Rising Potential and a New Horizon

The morning after Power Surge clicked complete, Luca stretched in his room, feeling the tautness of his muscles from weeks of relentless training. The Football Prodigy System panel lingered in his vision, and his eyes snagged on an unexpected shift—his potential had jumped from 85 to 87. He blinked, muttering, "What the hell?" The system pulsed, offering an explanation without him even asking.

*[System Notice: Potential Increase]*

Reason: Consistent performance, mastery of skills like Stepovers, Roulette, and Body Feint, plus the physical leap from Power Surge have raised your ceiling. Potential reflects your adaptability and future capacity—keep pushing, Host.

Luca grinned, a spark flaring in his chest. His ceiling wasn't some static cap; it stretched as he grew. Sophia barged in, yawning mid-step, "Why're you smirking like a creep?"

He struck a mock-heroic pose, flexing. "Potential's up, swamp queen—I'm officially a bigger deal than you." She snorted, rubbing sleep from her eyes, "Yeah, a bigger dork. Mom's got pancakes—hustle before I eat yours." He lobbed a sock at her retreating back, laughing.

Downstairs, Emily hummed over the stove, flipping golden stacks. "Morning, hotshot! Feeling strong?" Luca snagged a plate, already salivating. "Like a tank, Mom."

He hollered up the stairs—"Up, slug princess!"—and Sophia trudged down, hair a wild tangle, muttering, "You're a foghorn with legs—gross." Gianpiero smirked behind his coffee mug, folding his newspaper. "Potential's a good sign, Luca. Means the league's yours to conquer—keep that fire burning."

Training was a furnace, Rossi still obsessed with Luca's finishing. "Cappetta, bury it every time—no excuses!" Luca attacked the drills—spinning a Roulette into a slick Body Feint, then hammering shots at the net, each strike a little crisper.

Rondo sessions turned into a comedy show—Matteo grinned, "Luca's shooting like he's got jelly legs today!" Luca fired back, picturing Sophia's taunts, "Better than Paolo's tap-dancing—where's the rhythm, clown?"

Paolo flailed in the circle's center, trapped, "I'll dance on your grave, Cappetta!" Nico doubled over, cackling, "With those moves? You'd fall in first!"

The next two matches flew by.

November 9th against Torino U15s, Milan rolled to a comfortable 3-1 win. Luca's moment came late, he got his first assist against Torino U15s with flair and precision. Starting on the left wing, he received a pass and instantly spun past a defender using his Roulette skill, the ball glued to his feet. With his blazing speed, he raced down the line, drawing another defender, then lofted a perfect cross with the outside of his foot to Paolo, who headed it in from close range.

A week later, November 16th against Sampdoria U15s, they dominated again, 4-2. Luca got his chance after a midfield spark. He intercepted a loose ball and burst forward, using Stepovers to dodge a midfielder. Spotting Matteo's run, he unleashed a sharp through ball slicing the defense. Matteo took one touch and finished past the keeper, crediting Luca's vision.. Rossi's approval was a low grunt, "Steady work, Cappetta."

Luca flopped onto his bed that night, the system panel glowing with his latest haul.

*[Task Update: Season of Glory]*

Assists: 2 (Torino: 1, Sampdoria: 1)

Match Wins: 2 Points Earned: 3000 (2000 + 1000)

Total Points: 15,800 → 18,800

Eighteen thousand eight hundred points—a fortune. He could cash them in for raw stat boosts, but before he could ponder further, a sudden chime snapped him upright.

***[System Task: Spotlight Challenge]***

Objective: Play exceptionally and impress the U17 coach in the match against Roma U15s (November 30th, 2 weeks).

Reward: 5000 points, +3 to all Physical Attributes, U17 consideration.

Note: Eyes are on you, Host. Seize it.

Luca's breath hitched. The U17 coach watching him? He was carving a name in U15, but U17 was a whole new level—a leap he hadn't dared dream of yet. He paced his room, mind spinning like a top.

Roma U15s were no pushovers—play big, shine bright, and the U17 squad might call. His boosted potential wasn't just a fluke; it was a ladder to climb. "Gotta nail this," he muttered, resolve hardening like steel.

Training became an obsession. Coach Rossi's voice cracked like a whip, "Roma's next—tough nuts! Sharpen every edge!" Luca threw himself into it—sprinting down the wings, hammering shots into corners, chaining Roulette into Body Feint combos with flair.

Matteo kept pace, grinning, "U17's watching? We'll crush it together." Paolo scoffed from the sidelines, "Dream on, bench boy," but Luca tuned him out, focus narrowing to a pinpoint.

At home, Sophia caught him juggling in the backyard. "What, auditioning for the circus now?" He spun a Roulette, smirking, "Nah, just outclassing your clown act—stick to tripping over air."

Luca crashed into bed, the Spotlight Challenge looming large. Two weeks until Roma—two weeks to turn heads. Chiara's date danced in his thoughts, the league title burned in his chest, and now U17 dangled like a carrot.

He'd train like a machine, laugh off Sophia's jabs—"foghorn with legs" echoing—and seize every chance. His potential promised he could; his hunger swore he would.