My Ultimate Gacha System

Wednesday, September 20, 2023

Allianz Arena — Full Time

Sweat cooled fast on the back of Demien’s neck the moment his legs stopped moving, and above the tunnel entrance the scoreboard still held the same number it had held for the last five minutes.

BAYERN MUNICH 3 — 3 MANCHESTER UNITED

United’s players scattered across the pitch in different directions instead of gathering to celebrate the way a winning side would have. Bruno bent forward with his hands on his knees, chest still heaving from the last sprint back. Højlund kept glancing at the scoreboard as if it might change if he looked at it enough times.

Casemiro said something short to Martínez, a hand resting on his shoulder for a second, before turning to walk toward the tunnel with his shirt already pulled halfway up his chest to wipe his face.

Onana stood near his own box a few seconds longer than everyone else, not moving, staring at the six-yard line like it owed him something.

Three goals conceded didn’t disappear just because United had scored three back. It would follow him into every headline tomorrow morning regardless of the point they’d taken.

Demien walked slowly toward the center circle with his hands on his hips, his breath still ragged. He’d rescued the point rather than won the match, and neither feeling cancelled the other one out. It sat heavy in both directions at once.

A UEFA staff member in an official bib approached him near the touchline with the Player of the Match board tucked under one arm, waiting for a gap to catch his attention.

Demien looked confused for half a second, still running through the goals United had conceded rather than the ones he’d been part of, and it took him a moment to understand why the man was walking toward him specifically.

Bruno noticed first and shoved his shoulder lightly from behind. "That’s you," he said, nodding at the board. "That’s you, man."

Demien took it from the staff member’s hands. He didn’t grin like it was nothing, and he didn’t act cold about it either. He held the board for a second, turned it slightly to read his own name printed across it, then glanced once at the scoreboard still glowing above the far stand.

The two things sat next to each other without resolving. This was huge. The result still bothered him.

The pitch-side interviewer found him a minute later near the touchline, microphone already coming up, a camera operator jogging to keep the shot steady while the crowd noise rolled on behind them both.

"Demien — let’s start with the free kick, because everyone’s going to be replaying that one tonight. Talk us through it."

Demien exhaled once before he answered, still catching his breath between the words. "Bruno gave me the ball," he said. "The wall gave me one side to aim at. I just tried to hit it clean and let it do the rest."

The interviewer nodded, already moving to the next one. "You were 3-1 down with under twenty minutes left. What changes in a United dressing room in that moment?"

Demien looked down at the pitch for a second before he answered, like he was still standing in it. "We stopped rushing," he said. "Højlund kept making the runs even when the service wasn’t there yet. Casemiro wanted that last ball more than their defender did. And Onana kept us in it before we even got to 3-3 — without that save, it’s four, not three."

"Adriano Ventresca came on for Bayern tonight," the interviewer said, tilting the microphone slightly. "You two came through Fiorentina’s academy together. What’s that like, facing him?"

Demien kept his answer level, careful without sounding careful. "We know each other from Fiorentina," he said. "He’s a very good player. Tonight he was Bayern and I was United."

The interviewer paused half a beat, maybe hoping for more, then let it go. "Last one. Point gained, or two points dropped?"

Demien looked down at the award still sitting in the crook of his arm, then back out at the pitch where the ground staff were already rolling out the equipment for the corner flags.

"Both, probably," he said slowly. "Coming back from 3-1 here means something. But we scored three away at Bayern and didn’t win. That tells you we’ve still got work to do."

「PLAYER OF THE MATCH AWARDED」 「MATCH CONTRIBUTION: 1 GOAL | 2 ASSISTS」 「MEDIA ATTENTION: RISING」

Adriano caught up to him just past the mixed zone rope, before the tunnel swallowed them both toward separate dressing rooms, cameras close enough to catch the handshake but not close enough to catch anything said between them.

He tapped the award once with a knuckle, almost lazy about it. "You kept that one busy tonight."

"You nearly ruined my night," Demien said.

Adriano huffed something close to a laugh through his nose. They clasped hands and pulled into a quick half-hug, gone as fast as it started, both of them still half-turned toward their own tunnels, both of them still processing a match that had gone everywhere in ninety minutes.

Neither of them said anything else. There wasn’t time, and there wasn’t need.

Manchester United Dressing Room

The room wasn’t a party. A few players clapped when Demien walked in with the award tucked under his arm, but the sound came out tired rather than loud, the kind of applause that happens because it’s expected rather than because anyone has the energy left to mean it fully.

Bruno dropped onto the bench beside him, still breathing hard, boots half-unlaced. "You picked a stupid night to become impossible to ignore," he said, shaking his head slowly.

Højlund crossed the room and took his hand properly, gripping it a beat longer than a normal handshake needed. "Thank you for that ball," he said. "I mean it."

Casemiro passed by on his way to the ice bath and just nodded once, said the delivery had been good, and kept walking — which from him counted as a full speech.

Onana sat a few lockers down, elbows on his knees, staring at his gloves rather than taking them off. Demien crossed the room and sat next to him without saying anything at first.

"Three conceded," Onana said eventually, not looking up. "That’s what tomorrow’s headlines will be about. Not the three we scored."

"Your save before 3-3 kept us in it," Demien said. "That’s the story too, whether they print it or not."

Onana didn’t answer straight away. He turned the gloves over once in his hands, and something in his shoulders eased slightly, just enough to notice.

Ten Hag came in once the room had properly settled, once the noise had dropped to something closer to normal breathing, and he didn’t raise his voice at all.

"Good response," he said, looking around the room rather than fixing on any one player. "Bad control."

He let that sit for a second before he carried on.

"We don’t need to concede three goals to show character," he said. "Coming back from 3-1 at Bayern — that’s real, that shows something about this group. But it’s clear our spacing broke, our transitions broke, more than once tonight. That’s not something we accept just because the scoreboard ended level."

He looked at Demien for a moment, then let his eyes move on around the room.

"The draw only means something if we learn from it before the next match," he said. "Not after."

Nobody argued with him. Nobody needed to. The silence that followed was its own kind of agreement.

The system surfaced quietly once the dressing-room tension had already settled, after the football had been allowed to matter first.

「MATCH MISSION COMPLETE」

「Pressure-Release Actions: 5/5」 「Bayern Pressing Traps Identified: 3/3」 「Clear Chances Created: 1/1」 「Midfield Collapse Prevention: Complete」 「Bonus Objective: Complete」

「REWARD GRANTED: +90 MP」 「BONUS REWARD GRANTED: +10 SP」

「UPDATED BALANCE: 74 TP | 13 SP | 138 MP」

Demien looked at the numbers without much reaction at all. They mattered — they always mattered — but the match still weighed more than the reward attached to it tonight. He closed the panel when Bruno called him toward the bus, and the numbers faded without ceremony.