Chapter 50 – The Edge of the Flame
Thiago’s boots struck the turf before the sunrise did.
The Palmeiras training ground still held morning dew, lines of mist curling near the corner flags. Lights hadn’t even come on at the dorm when he’d slipped out—quiet, clean, focused. The city slept behind the hills, but inside him, something stirred.
The System flickered on, faint in his vision:
SYSTEM:
Coach Impression: Holding (Positive)
Goal Involvements This Season: 4
Club Confidence: 87 / 100
He dismissed it with a blink. That number would rise—not because he needed to prove anything, but because it felt inevitable. A promise he had made to himself in silence.
He ran drills solo: cones lined like soldiers, touch tight, passes firm. He hit the wall ten times, then a hundred. Practiced low shots with either foot. Imagined pressure, heard phantom footsteps closing in. He dribbled as if every movement had to be the one that mattered.
By the time the sun finally climbed over the practice dome, a few staff had arrived. One assistant coach stopped, arms crossed, just watching. Eneas was not yet on site—but word would reach him. Thiago didn’t train for attention. But attention came anyway.
At breakfast, the first team gathered in clusters. Murmurs of the next match hummed at the edges. Red Bull Bragantino. Known for vertical passes, high pressing, fast transitions. Thiago heard his name mentioned quietly—by defenders who had faced him in training, by midfielders who watched how he covered half-spaces when others didn’t.