The home team, Technical University of Dortmund, took the initiative as the match began, kicking off with purpose. The jerseys of the two teams vividly illustrated the rich football heritage of their respective cities. Technical University of Dortmund's yellow kits closely mirrored those of Borussia Dortmund, known affectionately as "The Black and Yellows" by their passionate supporters. Meanwhile, the players of Westphalian University of Applied Sciences, where Franck Ndongo commanded the defense, donned blue kits that paid homage to Schalke 04, their city's pride and Dortmund's fierce rivals.
For those familiar with the intense football culture of the Ruhr region, it was easy to imagine that they were witnessing a scaled-down version of the famed Ruhr Derby. The rivalry between Dortmund and Gelsenkirchen ran deep, steeped in a century-old history of fierce competition. However, the atmosphere here, while charged, could never quite match the raw energy and fervor of a professional derby at Signal Iduna Park or Veltins-Arena. Players like Franck, who had grown up far from the cauldron of the Ruhr, in Yaoundé, Cameroon, approached the game with a different mindset. For them, this was an important match to win, but it didn't carry the weight of historical enmity that defined encounters between Dortmund and Schalke in the professional leagues.
Yet, there was one exception—the personal rivalry between Franck and Conta Fermolin. This duel promised sparks, rooted in fierce competition and mutual respect.
From the first whistle, Technical University of Dortmund seized control of the game. Understanding the strengths and weaknesses of both sides, Coach Norbert Elgert deployed a classic 4-4-2 formation. The midfield was arranged in parallel lines, a setup that emphasized solid defensive play with quick transitions to counterattacks. Alain Nkoum, a reliable presence between the posts, anchored the defense, while Franck, donning the captain's armband and wearing the number 5 jersey, led the backline with a calm authority. Up front, Samuel Ndi Ebogo, alongside a towering striker who stood at 1.87 meters, led the attack. Samuel, with his nimble footwork and ability to hold up play, was integral to Westphalian's counterattacking strategy.
Samuel had been in blistering form recently, netting eight goals in the last ten matches. His clinical finishing had accounted for 60% of the team's total goals during this period. Coach Elgert knew his team's attacking hopes rested heavily on Samuel's shoulders.
However, the match quickly became a stark reminder of the harsh realities of football. The gulf in class between the two teams was evident from the outset. Technical University of Dortmund demonstrated a higher level of tactical discipline and technical proficiency. Westphalian's midfield, despite being packed with tireless defensive midfielders who could run all day and break up play with ease, struggled to maintain possession and build meaningful attacks. Their offensive strategy heavily relied on Franck's ability to launch precise long balls from the back to set up quick counterattacks for Samuel. Franck's long passing, rated highly at a professional level of 74, was a potent weapon, but it required space and time—luxuries that were in short supply against Dortmund's relentless pressure.
Technical University of Dortmund had clearly done their homework. They deployed a three-center-back formation, a tactical adjustment that effectively nullified Westphalian's counterattacking threat. Two of the central defenders stayed deep, close to their penalty area, effectively marking Samuel out of the game and cutting off the supply line from Franck.
The midfield battle was equally one-sided. Dortmund's relentless pressing suffocated Westphalian's attempts to string together any meaningful passes. The lack of a creative playmaker in Westphalian's midfield became painfully apparent, as their long-ball tactics were easily anticipated and intercepted by Dortmund's disciplined defenders. Westphalian found themselves constantly on the back foot, struggling to get out of their own half.
From a tactical perspective, Dortmund exuded confidence. They knew that their high-intensity pressing game would drain their physical resources, potentially leaving them vulnerable in the latter stages of the match. But they were banking on the inexperience and lack of depth in the Westphalian squad to crumble under the pressure before they did. Dortmund was determined to kill the game off early, to leave no doubt about the outcome.
In stark contrast to Westphalian's disjointed midfield, Dortmund's number 10 was a masterclass in midfield leadership. His playing style was reminiscent of Arsenal's Cesc Fabregas during his prime—elegant yet incisive, capable of splitting defenses with a single pass or driving forward to create chances himself. He was the metronome of Dortmund's attack, orchestrating play with an intelligence and vision that posed a constant threat to Westphalian's beleaguered defense.
By the fifteenth minute, the match had become a one-sided affair. Westphalian was pinned back deep in their own half, struggling to deal with the constant waves of Dortmund's attacks. Franck, towering at 1.93 meters, was tasked with marking Fermolin, a physically imposing forward who not only matched him in height but also possessed a surprising degree of agility and technical skill. Initially, Franck had expected Fermolin to play as a traditional target man, holding up the ball to bring his teammates into play. However, Fermolin demonstrated a level of skill more akin to Zlatan Ibrahimovic—confident with the ball at his feet, capable of turning and driving at defenders with intent.
But Fermolin had not counted on Franck's astute defensive mind. Rather than engaging in a physical battle, Franck anticipated Fermolin's moves, keeping his focus entirely on the ball. He waited for the right moment to strike. That moment came as Fermolin wound up for a shot, believing he had created a sliver of space. Franck slid in with perfect timing, cleanly dispossessing Fermolin and sending the ball out of bounds, his tackle executed with such precision that it left Fermolin on the ground, frustrated and confused by Franck's rapid response.
The home crowd erupted in protest, but the referee, well-positioned and unfazed by the noise, allowed play to continue, much to Fermolin's chagrin. He couldn't comprehend how Franck had closed him down so swiftly.
For Franck, this was merely another day at the office. His reaction speed, honed to a fine edge, allowed him to make decisions and act faster than most players on the pitch. The Star Player Evolution Engine had rated his reaction time at 67, a reflection of his ability to think and move quicker than his opponents, a skill that was proving invaluable in this match.
Despite Dortmund's dominance, Franck's defensive heroics kept Westphalian in the game. However, there was only so much one defender could do. As a central defender, Franck could stabilize the backline, repel attacks, and organize his teammates, but he couldn't single-handedly turn defense into attack.
This realization is why many young players are drawn to attacking positions. Scoring goals, creating chances—these are the moments that grab headlines and etch names into the memories of fans. Defenders, on the other hand, toil in the shadows, their successes often going unnoticed unless they falter. Franck had once harbored similar aspirations, yearning for the glory of the attacking roles. But everything changed when he watched the 2006 World Cup final, where Fabio Cannavaro, Italy's captain, delivered a defensive masterclass that neutralized one of the world's most potent attacks, led by Thierry Henry. Cannavaro's ability to dominate the air despite being shorter than most forwards, his timing in challenges, and his unmatched reading of the game were revelations to Franck. He realized that defense was not just a necessity but an art form in its own right—one that he now aspired to master.
Franck's admiration for Cannavaro fueled his commitment to becoming the best central defender he could be. Cannavaro's World Cup-winning performance, where he outclassed strikers much taller and supposedly stronger than him, became Franck's benchmark. He trained tirelessly, honing his aerial ability, improving his positional awareness, and sharpening his decision-making under pressure. Now, in this college league final, he was beginning to see the fruits of his labor.
Back on the pitch, Westphalian continued to struggle under the weight of Dortmund's relentless attacks. Dortmund's number 10 continued to pull the strings, probing for weaknesses in Westphalian's defense. Yet, Franck's unwavering presence was a thorn in their side, frustrating Fermolin and stymieing Dortmund's most promising moves. Hansen, Dortmund's coach with a background in professional football, began to regret underestimating Franck. His two critical interventions had visibly shaken Dortmund's confidence, leading to a growing sense of frustration among their ranks.
As the first half drew to a close, Technical University of Dortmund shifted their attacking focus. Recognizing that Franck had effectively locked down the right side of Westphalian's defense, they redirected their efforts to the left, targeting a weaker link. Despite Dortmund's dominance, they hadn't managed to breach Franck's side, a testament to his defensive solidity. Coach Elgert quickly adjusted, reinforcing the left flank to stifle Dortmund's newfound strategy. The combined efforts of Franck and his teammates soon blunted Dortmund's right-wing threat.
As the half wore on, Dortmund began to slow the pace of the game, a tactic intended to draw Westphalian out of their defensive shell and create openings. However, this change in tempo played into Westphalian's hands. Sensing an opportunity, Coach Elgert urged his players to press higher and faster, to disrupt Dortmund's rhythm. Franck led the charge, stepping up from the back to press Dortmund's number 10, who suddenly found himself surrounded by a sea of blue shirts. With little time to think, Dortmund's playmaker attempted a quick turn, only to find Franck waiting for him. Franck intercepted the pass with ease and launched a swift counterattack.
Samuel, Westphalian's talismanic forward, sprinted down the pitch, his eyes fixed on the goal. The quick interplay between him and his teammates carved open Dortmund's defense, setting up a three-on-three scenario. Just as Samuel prepared to break through on goal, he was cynically brought down inside the box. The crowd erupted, but the referee, after a moment of consideration, awarded only a corner, ruling that Samuel had not yet gained full control of the ball.
Undeterred, Franck made his way into Dortmund's penalty area for the corner. His height and aerial ability made him a significant threat, and Dortmund's goalkeeper, Finn Bergmann, standing a full ten centimeters shorter, felt the pressure. As the corner kick curled into the box, Franck soared above everyone, meeting the ball with a thunderous header that drove it into the ground before it bounced up into the net. The stadium erupted in a mix of shock and elation as Westphalian took a surprising 1-0 lead.
Coach Hansen's face darkened as he realized, too late, the full extent of Franck's abilities. His team had been outplayed not just in the defensive third but now on set pieces as well. Franck had proven his dominance on both ends of the pitch, and with it, he had shifted the momentum firmly in Westphalian's favor.
As the first half concluded, Franck's performance had made an indelible mark on the match. He had shown that even in a college league final, a central defender could be the pivotal figure—the one who dictates the outcome through sheer determination and skill.
The impact of the scoreline was most evident on the faces of the two coaches. Coach Elgert of Westphalian appeared relaxed, reclining in his seat with a sense of satisfaction. With a one-goal advantage, he saw no reason to change tactics. His team would continue with their defensive counterattack strategy, confident that Dortmund would have to take the risks to change the game. His plan was to react to whatever Dortmund threw at them in the second half.
In stark contrast, Dortmund's head coach, Hansen, was visibly tense. Gone was the confident demeanor he had displayed before the game. Now, he was hunched over, furiously sketching out adjustments on his tactical board, trying to devise a way to break down Westphalian's resilient defense.
The first half ended with Westphalian leading 1-0. It was no exaggeration to say that Franck had been instrumental in this unexpected scoreline, excelling in both defense and attack.
Despite the unfavorable score, Dortmund's cheerleading squad remained energetic, their optimism unshaken. From their perspective, their team had dominated the match and had simply been unlucky. Surely, Westphalian couldn't keep up this level of defensive resistance for another 45 minutes? They believed Franck's heroics were a fluke, and it was only a matter of time before Dortmund turned the game around.
The deep-seated football rivalry between Dortmund and Gelsenkirchen was something that transcended mere sport. It was a part of the cultural identity of the region, passed down through generations of fans. Even in this college setting, the emotions associated with the Ruhr Derby were palpable.
Franck was well aware of this. As he walked off the pitch towards the locker room, the jeers from the Dortmund fans didn't faze him. Instead, a subtle smirk played on his lips. He was relishing the challenge and the role he was playing in silencing the opposition.
As the teams headed into the locker rooms for halftime, they prepared to receive their coaches' instructions for what promised to be a thrilling second half.
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It's worth noting that the German football infrastructure is exceptionally advanced. Even at the level of amateur university leagues, the facilities were nothing short of top-tier, featuring immaculate natural turf fields and locker rooms that could rival those of professional clubs. For Franck Ndongo, the contrast was stark. Back in Cameroon, he had grown up playing on rough, uneven pitches, with little more than makeshift rest areas to offer respite between matches. Now, as he looked around at the pristine conditions in which he played, he couldn't help but marvel. It was no wonder, he thought, that German football had managed to rebound so swiftly from the disappointment of the 2000 European Championship.
Coach Norbert Elgert was visibly pleased with his team's performance in the first half. Clapping his hands together, he praised the players with genuine enthusiasm. "Great work, guys! If we can keep up this intensity for another 20 minutes in the second half, I'm telling you, they'll be the ones to crack first!"
After a brief pause, Coach Elgert added with a teasing smile, "And hey, it wouldn't hurt if we scored another goal... Samuel, Franck stole your spotlight with that goal. What do you say you answer back in the second half?"
Samuel Ndi Ebogo, always brimming with confidence, grinned and shot back, "Don't worry, Coach. Franck might have scored one, but I'm getting another in the second half! I'm the striker here—who dares to steal my job?"
Elgert's attempt to stir a little friendly competition had clearly worked, as Samuel's determined response drew a knowing smile from Franck, who thought to himself with amusement, "Let's see if you can back that up."
Most spectators expected Technical University of Dortmund to come out with all guns blazing at the start of the second half. The real question on everyone's mind was whether Westphalian University of Applied Sciences could withstand the inevitable surge of pressure during those critical first fifteen minutes.
But to everyone's surprise, it was Westphalian who struck first in the second half. As soon as the whistle blew, they seized the momentum with a meticulously planned and executed attack. The midfield, displaying a blend of vision and precision, threaded a perfectly weighted pass through the heart of Dortmund's defense. The ball found its way to Westphalian's towering striker, who, using every inch of his considerable height and strength, shielded the ball from the advancing center-back. His hold-up play was textbook, as he skillfully controlled the ball with his chest before laying it off with a deft touch right into the path of Samuel.
Samuel, already on the move, timed his run to perfection. His acceleration was explosive, like a sprinter out of the blocks, instantly creating a gap between him and the chasing defenders. The crowd gasped as he surged forward, his eyes locked onto the goal, the defenders left grasping at air in his wake. Samuel's every stride exuded confidence, and as he entered the penalty area, it became clear that he was in full control of the situation.
With the goalkeeper advancing to close down the angle, Samuel remained unfazed. In a split second, he assessed his options. The keeper was off his line, trying to make himself as large as possible, but Samuel was already a step ahead. As the distance between them closed, Samuel executed a quick feint with his body, sending the goalkeeper sprawling to one side. With ice-cold precision, Samuel then nudged the ball with the inside of his right foot, guiding it smoothly past the keeper's outstretched arms.
The ball rolled into the bottom corner of the net, just brushing the inside of the post before settling into the back of the goal. It was a finish that combined composure, finesse, and deadly accuracy—a striker's goal in every sense. The net rippled, and for a brief moment, there was silence, as if the stadium itself had paused in disbelief. Then, the realization hit the Dortmund fans like a tidal wave—Westphalian had doubled their lead to 2-0, and the shock was palpable.
These two goals were nothing short of devastating. The first had shattered Dortmund's confidence, and the second had effectively broken their morale. The once vocal supporters of Dortmund fell silent, their faces mirroring the disbelief that had swept through the stands. On the pitch, Dortmund's players looked shell-shocked, their body language revealing the psychological blow they had just suffered. What had been a tightly contested match had suddenly swung dramatically in favor of Westphalian, and it was clear that this second goal had sent shockwaves through the entire Dortmund camp.
Faced with a two-goal deficit, the coaching staff of Technical University Dortmund knew they had to act decisively. Their initial tactics, which relied on a three-center-back formation to stifle Westphalian's attack, had failed to produce the desired results. Now, with time running out and the pressure mounting, they abandoned their conservative approach in favor of a more aggressive, attacking setup. The midfield was pushed higher, and the full-backs were given the green light to bomb forward, creating overlaps and stretching the Westphalian defense.
Dortmund's renewed intensity quickly put Westphalian on the back foot. The pressure was mounting, and in the 70th minute, one of Dortmund's midfielders picked up the ball just inside Westphalian's half. With a quick look up, he spotted a gap in the defense and threaded a through ball between the Westphalian defenders. The ball found Dortmund's right winger, who sprinted toward the penalty area with Alain Didier Nkoum and the rest of Westphalian's defense scrambling to cover.
The winger, seeing a defender closing in, attempted to cut inside, but the defender's positioning was strong. Anticipating the move, the Westphalian defender managed to get a foot in, but the ball ricocheted off the winger's shin and fell kindly to a Dortmund midfielder who had made a late run into the box. He took the ball in his stride and unleashed a powerful low shot. Alain reacted quickly, diving full stretch to his left and getting a fingertip on the ball, deflecting it just wide of the post for a corner. It was a crucial save that kept Westphalian's two-goal cushion intact.
From the resulting corner, the pressure intensified. Dortmund's number 10 delivered a curling cross into the crowded penalty area. The ball was met by a strong header from a Dortmund defender who had come up for the set piece, but Alain was once again up to the task, leaping to his right to tip the ball over the bar. The Westphalian goalkeeper was showing his class, keeping Dortmund at bay with a series of brilliant saves.
But Dortmund wasn't done yet. In the 77th minute, after a series of intricate passes, the ball was worked out to their left-back, who had surged forward to join the attack. He sent a low cross into the box, aiming for one of the forwards. The cross evaded Franck, but another Westphalian defender was on hand to clear. Unfortunately, the clearance was poor, and the ball fell directly to a Dortmund midfielder lurking on the edge of the area. He took one touch to control before firing a low, driven shot through a sea of bodies. The ball skidded across the slick turf and into the bottom corner, beating Alain, who was unsighted by the crowd in front of him. Dortmund had finally breached Westphalian's defense to make it 2-1.
The goal injected fresh life into the Dortmund players and fans alike. The once-silent supporters roared back to life, urging their team forward in search of an equalizer. The momentum had shifted, and Westphalian found themselves on the back foot, forced to absorb wave after wave of Dortmund's attacks. The tension was palpable, with every clearance, every tackle, and every pass taking on heightened significance.
However, just as Dortmund's belief was beginning to swell, Westphalian struck with a devastating counterattack that would seal the match. In the 82nd minute, with Dortmund committing players forward, Westphalian's defense held firm and cleared the ball to Franck, who had dropped deep to collect it. He quickly surveyed the field and, with a calmness that belied the situation, launched a precise, lofted pass over the top of Dortmund's high defensive line.
Samuel, who had been lurking near the halfway line, instantly sprang into action. He timed his run to perfection, sprinting onto the ball as it descended. His speed was electrifying, leaving the Dortmund defenders scrambling to catch up. As he approached the penalty area, the goalkeeper, Finn Bergmann, raced off his line in a desperate attempt to close down the angle. But Samuel, ever composed, had already made up his mind.
With a deft touch, Samuel cushioned the ball into his path, taking it into the box. Finn Bergmann lunged forward, trying to narrow the gap, but Samuel was one step ahead. In one fluid motion, he cut inside, feigning a shot to send the keeper diving prematurely. With the goalkeeper now committed, Samuel calmly rolled the ball through his legs, watching as it slowly trickled into the back of the net.
Samuel's second goal of the match was a dagger to Dortmund's hopes. It showcased his composure under pressure and his ability to capitalize on a single moment to turn the game decisively in his team's favor. The Dortmund players could only watch in despair as the ball crossed the line, their comeback hopes dashed in an instant. With the score now 3-1, any remaining resistance from Dortmund crumbled.
After the game, a brief but memorable award ceremony took place. As the team captain, Franck proudly stepped forward to receive the trophy from an official of the North Rhine-Westphalia Football Association.
As the celebrations wound down, Samuel approached Franck with a wide grin. "How about that, brother? I scored two! Ready to celebrate tonight?"
"Absolutely," Franck replied with a laugh, as he packed up his gear. But as he glanced towards the stands, his eyes quickly found Lena Weissbach, and he hurried over to her.
Samuel paused for a moment, then shook his head with a knowing smile. "Figures, choosing the girl you like over your bros!"
"Franck, you were fantastic out there!" Lena said with a warm smile, her eyes reflecting genuine admiration.
Franck chuckled, his grin widening. "Thanks, Lena. I'll take that as high praise coming from you."
She playfully rolled her eyes, "Don't let it go to your head."
Franck raised an eyebrow, his tone light. "Well, you know, a victory kiss wouldn't hurt."
Lena laughed softly and leaned in, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "There. That's all you're getting with everyone watching."
Franck smirked, "I guess I'll have to make do."
"Yep, that's all for now," Lena replied with a teasing grin as she gave him a gentle nudge.
Just then, they noticed someone approaching—Fermolin.
Lena's expression immediately darkened, and she instinctively moved closer to Franck, who quickly wrapped a protective arm around her. His gaze hardened as he asked, "What do you want?"
Franck wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. He had no reason to be kind to someone trying to pursue the girl he liked.
Fermolin stopped in front of them and spoke with a measured tone, "First of all, I want to apologize. On the field, you showed strength that I respect. I take back what I said earlier. But I won't give up pursuing Lena just because of a bet. If you like her, then we'll compete fairly."
"Enough, Fermolin!" Lena interjected firmly. "I've already told you, I don't feel anything for you. Franck is the one I like—do I need to prove it to you?"
She then kissed Franck again, leaving Fermolin visibly stunned.
Undeterred, Fermolin continued, "Lena, are you sure you won't give me a chance? My father owns a company. Even if I don't play football, I can give you a good life."
At this, Franck's expression darkened. He gently released Lena and stepped forward, pointing at Fermolin. "Do you think she cares about your money? Lena isn't a commodity. If you want to compete, I'm not playing. The bet was made to teach you a lesson. If you want to earn my respect, then honor our bet like a man and walk away. Otherwise, don't think I won't make things difficult for you."
Franck's words carried the weight of someone fiercely protective of those he cared about, and Lena's heart swelled with warmth at his stance.
Seeing that he was outmatched and unwelcome, Fermolin reluctantly turned and walked away, casting one last defiant look over his shoulder.
Franck chuckled softly, his confidence unshaken.
That evening, Franck and Lena shared a quiet dinner at her off-campus apartment. She had gone to great lengths to prepare a traditional German meal, opting for a classic dish of Sauerbraten with red cabbage and potato dumplings. The tender, marinated beef, slow-cooked to perfection, was rich with flavors of vinegar, spices, and a hint of sweetness. The tangy red cabbage provided a perfect balance, while the potato dumplings, soft and comforting, rounded out the meal. It was a rare treat for Franck, who was more accustomed to the typical Western fare served at school, and he couldn't help but savor every bite.
Despite being a journalism student, Lena came from a family with deep culinary roots, and it showed in her cooking. Although the culinary skills were traditionally passed down to the men in her family, Lena had clearly inherited the talent.
Franck took a bite of the meal she had prepared and immediately gave her a thumbs up, thinking to himself, "What a great catch! She's the perfect mix of beauty and skill."
"To winning the championship!" Lena toasted, raising her glass with a proud smile. "I always knew you had it in you."
"Of course!" Franck responded with a grin. "But this is just the beginning. My goal is to win the entire German university league!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," she teased, though her eyes were filled with belief. "But I do think you can do it."
Franck looked at her, admiring the way her dimples deepened when she laughed. After a moment, he joked, "Why don't you transfer to my school next year?"
Lena paused, understanding that Franck was concerned for her safety after Fermolin's advances. Her smile softened, and she asked, "Are you worried about me?"
"Maybe... I mean, I did just fight for you. I know I'm confident, but some things aren't entirely up to me."
"Oh, so I'm just a pawn to be fought over?" she retorted playfully, pretending to be annoyed.
They bantered back and forth for a while before Lena became serious again. "I'm not transferring. I've settled in here, and the faculty likes me. Besides, Technical University of Dortmund is one of the top schools in Germany—I want to finish my studies here. As for Fermolin, I've made it clear that I'm not interested. He usually keeps his distance, but I guess seeing you today set him off."
"Now that he knows about us, I doubt he'll stay calm," Franck mused, concern lacing his voice.
"Let him be. I won't give him a chance. Trust me, okay?"
Seeing her resolve, Franck nodded, though he added a gentle reminder, "Just be careful. If anything happens, call me."
Later that night, while his teammates celebrated their victory with computer games, Franck lay in bed, reflecting on the match and checking the feedback from the Star Player Evolution Engine.
The system's voice, Tactica, soon appeared, saying, "Congratulations on completing your first task. The host has maximized his abilities in the finals. Would you like to view your current data and receive your mission rewards?"
"Definitely," Franck responded, eager to see how he had progressed.
A moment later, the system's data projection appeared before his eyes. Franck's abilities had indeed improved, with his heading ability increasing from 63 to 64 thanks to his goal in the game. His speed, awareness, and reaction times were also nearing an upgrade.
The system's precision was remarkable, as it highlighted the specific areas where Franck's performance had shone, particularly in his defensive clearances and reaction time.
But what Franck was most curious about was the reward for completing his first task. Still unfamiliar with the system's quirks, he could only hope it would be something truly beneficial.
The system then opened the mission reward package.
Reward: Set-piece accuracy +5; this ability's training speed doubles. Note: If the host cannot demonstrate the corresponding ability improvement in a game within half a month, the task reward will be forfeited.
"Seriously...?" Franck sighed. "What good is set-piece skill for a defender? It's not like increasing my speed. And there's a time limit too? That's just unnecessary pressure."
He asked Tactica, "Can the mission reward be changed? I'd rather have 5 speed points."
"Once a mission reward is received, it cannot be exchanged," Tactica's cold voice responded.
"Well, that's disappointing," Franck thought. "Am I supposed to turn into Roberto Carlos?"
Resigned to the outcome, Franck decided he would need to dedicate some extra training to his shooting skills, even if it didn't seem immediately useful. After all, it was his first task reward—letting it go to waste would be a shame.
The following day, the school held a special ceremony to commend the football team's remarkable achievement. Standing out in a division brimming with strong teams and securing a place in the national round of 16 was a new milestone for the school, and Franck had played a pivotal role.
Meanwhile, the draw for the national finals had been announced. The German University League's national finals were structured as a knockout competition, with teams drawn two by two to determine the winner in a single match. There simply wasn't enough time for a group stage format.
Westphalian University of Applied Sciences had drawn Free University of Berlin, the division champion from the capital.
It was a favorable draw. Although Free University of Berlin was highly ranked academically, their football team was far from formidable. In fact, the entire Berlin region wasn't particularly known for its football strength, with Hertha Berlin being a mid-table Bundesliga team at best.
While German football, in general, was renowned for its quality, its regional distribution of talent and success was uneven. Bavaria, home to the Bundesliga giants Bayern Munich, was by far the strongest region. This year, the University of Munich, last year's national champion, was once again the top favorite to win. North Rhine-Westphalia, with its rich footballing culture and the presence of clubs like Dortmund and Schalke 04, was also considered a powerhouse region.
But that was the landscape of professional football. At the college level, where the fundamentals of the game took precedence, the competition was far more unpredictable and complex.