The first-team training facility was bathed in the early morning sun as Alex Rivera stepped onto the main pitch. The grass was freshly cut, the air crisp, and the floodlights were still on even though the sun had risen. This was no ordinary session. Galaxy were in 6th place in the Western Conference — just one single point above the playoff cut-off line. The team below them still had a game in hand. They were barely surviving, fighting week after week to stay in the playoffs. Every training session, every touch, every free-kick practice carried the weight of that fragile position.
Coach Victor Morales had the squad gathered early. The veterans were stretching, some chatting quietly, others eyeing the young No. 33 with a mix of respect and rivalry. Captain Marco "El Rey" Delgado gave Alex a firm nod. Carlos "El Pulpo" Mendoza smirked when their eyes met — the rivalry from previous sessions was still alive. Diego "The Beast" Torres cracked his knuckles and stared a little longer than necessary.
"Today we push hard," Morales announced, voice carrying across the pitch. "Team sessions first, then individual work. Rivera — you're with the attacking mids. We have a big match coming. We're in sixth place — one point above the line. We cannot drop points. Work like your season depends on it. Because it does."
The session began with high-intensity team drills. Possession grids with immediate pressure, one-touch maximum, three defenders in each small zone. The ball moved fast. Alex received it under heavy pressure from Mendoza and another veteran. He killed the ball with God's First Touch, dropped his shoulder, performed a rapid step-over, and exploded with Phantom Shadow Dribble. The after-image froze Mendoza for a split second. Alex burst past him and played a crisp, weighted pass into the next grid.
Mendoza stood up, breathing hard, and gave a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Still flashy, 33. Let's see how long it lasts when the legs are gone."
The drills continued without mercy. Next came 1v2 defending situations in the box. Alex was asked to create against two senior defenders at once. Torres came in aggressively, shoulder-barging hard. Alex absorbed the hit, used quick body feints to shift the second defender, then burst past both with a double Phantom Shadow Dribble. He delivered a low cut-back that was finished cleanly.
Torres got up slowly, wiping grass from his knee. "You're quick, kid. But quick gets you hurt when someone times it right."
The rivalry was open and constant. Every duel carried an extra edge. Alex stayed silent and worked harder, his mind locked on the upcoming match and the chance to start.
System notifications flashed silently in his vision between rotations.
[System Notification]
First-Team Training – High Intensity Bonus
EXP Gained: +920
Dribbling: +3 (now 99)
Passing: +3 (now 99)
Physicality: +2 (now 89)
Phantom Shadow Dribble Progress: +28% (A+ Grade nearing Legendary threshold)
After the team drills, Coach Morales pulled Alex aside for individual free-kick practice. The coach set up a wall of mannequins and called over two goalkeepers. "You've been working on this. Show me what you've got. We need you ready for set-pieces in the next game."
Alex placed the ball 28 yards out, slightly left of centre. He took three steps back, eyes locked on the far top corner. He ran up and struck it with pure technique. The ball curled viciously over the wall and dipped into the top corner. The goalkeepers could only watch.
Morales nodded, arms crossed. "Again."
Alex repeated it over and over. Ten free-kicks. Fifteen. Twenty. Each one was slower, more deliberate, more focused. He adjusted his run-up, his plant foot, the angle of his foot on contact. The ball kept finding the top corner with that magical dip and curl. The goalkeepers were diving full stretch but rarely getting a hand to it.
The coach watched every strike in silence. The veterans on the other side of the pitch occasionally glanced over, impressed but not saying anything.
After the twentieth free-kick, Morales finally spoke. "That's enough. You've improved a lot. Keep working on it. You're getting closer to something special."
Alex wiped sweat from his forehead and nodded. The individual session had been long and grueling, but he felt the free-kick skill settling deeper into his body.
System notifications flashed again.
[System Notification]
Individual Free-Kick Training Bonus
EXP Gained: +1,200
Magical Carlos Free-Kick (S-Grade) Progress: +35%
Overall Rating: +4 (now 109)
The squad gathered at the end of the session for a quick team huddle. Coach Morales stood in the centre, arms crossed, face serious.
"Listen up. We've been working hard. The table doesn't lie — we're in sixth place, one point above the playoff line. We're barely surviving, but we're still in the fight. I've made a decision for the next game."
He looked straight at Alex.
"Rivera — you're starting. You've earned it. You came on late in the last match and turned the game around. You've shown in training that you belong. You will start the next away game. Be ready. The team needs your creativity and fight from the first minute."
The squad fell silent for a second, then erupted in applause and back slaps. Delgado patted Alex on the back hard. "You earned this, 33. Go show them."
Mendoza and Torres exchanged glances but joined the applause. The rivalry was still there, but respect had grown.
Alex stood there, stunned but happy. He had been expecting to be on the bench again. Starting the next game was a huge step. He nodded to the coach, voice steady. "Thank you, Coach. I won't let you down."
Inside, his mind was racing with joy and determination.
I'm starting. The coach trusts me. The team is in sixth place — one point above the line. I will help them reach the playoffs. I will help them win. Number 33 is starting.
The session ended with the squad dispersing. Alex walked toward the exit, mind full of the news. He couldn't wait to tell his family, Emma, and Sophia.
The training arc was paying off. The next game was coming. And Alex Rivera was ready to start.