Emperor of Football: Julien De Rocca

"Shock in Paris: Bastia Dethrone Lyon to Claim Historic Second Coupe de France!"

"De Rocca Makes History with First-Ever Hat-Trick in French Cup Final!"

"History Made: Youngest MVP in French Cup Final Annals!"

The morning newspapers across France bore headlines that seemed almost too extraordinary to believe. Sports editors, accustomed to documenting the predictable triumphs of football's aristocracy, found themselves scrambling for superlatives suitable to capture what had happened at the Stade de France.

A Ligue 2 team—a second-division club from the island of Corsica had won the championship!

The media coverage was instantaneous and overwhelming.

In the online forums where modern football passion finds its most creative expression, Bastia supporters crowned their hero with words that transcended fan worship and entered the realm of high art. The club's online forums had become filled with galleries of poetic tribute:

"Beneath the Louvre's dome rest the immortal relics of human genius—works that have endured wars, revolutions, and time itself. And yet, with unshakable conviction, we proclaim: the finest masterpiece of the twenty-first century is not found on canvas or in marble, but in the left foot of Julien De Rocca."

Meanwhile, in Ajaccio—the proud capital city where Napoleon Bonaparte first drew breath and dreamed of continental conquest, the local media had found their own poetic voice to chronicle this latest chapter in Corsican greatness:

"The cliffs of Corsica, carved by millennia of Mediterranean storms, and the waves that crash against our shores have forged something unique in the genetic memory of our people—the unbreakable code of conquerors.

When De Rocca spread his arms wide in triumph at Paris's magnificent Stade de France, Napoleon's bronze statue in Ajaccio's main square seemed to stir in the evening sea breeze—

This island that once gifted the world a continental hegemon is now revealing the revolutionary 'Napoleon-De Rocca Code' to European football through Julien's meteoric ascent.

When that final whistle pierced the Parisian night air, the eagle flag totems that floated majestically above the conquered stands were not mere symbols of support—they were the devout coronation banners of Corsica's newest emperor."

On this transcendent night of Bastia's ultimate triumph, the giant electronic screen on the historic Terra-Vecchia center building seemed to throb with significance in the hearts of every supporter who gazed upon it.

The impossible had become inevitable: Bastia had scaled the summit of French Cup glory and earned their passport to European competition for the coming season!

From the rugged mountains and beaches of Corsica to the grand boulevards of Paris, and soon to the historical stadiums of continental Europe—the path once walked by that legendary predecessor seemed to appear once again beneath De Rocca's feet.

In the small hours of the morning, when the first ferry from the mainland was still hours away and the island seemed to exist in its own time bubble, more than a thousand Bastia faithful had gathered at the airport. They came armed with flags, banners, drums, and voices already hoarse from hours of celebration that had never truly paused since the final whistle in Paris.

The early morning sea breeze carried the salt tang of the Mediterranean and the intoxicating scent of wild herbs from the mountainsides, but all of nature's perfume was overwhelmed by the electricity of anticipation that crackled through the crowd.

When the charter flight's engines finally fell silent and the aircraft door opened, when the heroes emerged blinking into the pre-dawn light with the French Cup gleaming in their exhausted but ecstatic hands, the composure of the waiting crowd shattered like glass.

Instant madness.

"DE ROCCA!" The name echoed off the terminal buildings and seemed to shake the earth.

"BASTIA! BASTIA! BASTIA!" The chant built like a thunderstorm, each repetition gaining power and purpose.

"Julien, where are you going next season? Tell us you're staying!" Individual voices rose above the collective roar, desperately seeking the answer to the question that had haunted their dreams throughout the long flight back to Corsica.

The players, their bodies drained by ninety minutes of the most intense football of their lives followed by hours of celebration, summoned reserves of energy they didn't know they possessed to interact with the supporters who had made this journey from impossible dream to glorious reality.

Standing at the center of this storm of emotion, facing a sea of faces glowing by mobile phone lights, Julien did not try to beat around the bush or delay the moment of truth. His voice, clear and unwavering despite his exhaustion, roared through the noise.

"I want to continue staying here."

For a second that seemed to stretch into an hour, complete silence fell—a thousand voices were catching their breath in common disbelief.

Then came the explosion.

A collective gasp transformed instantly into the most joyous eruption of sound the island had ever witnessed.

"DE ROCCA IS STAYING NEXT SEASON!" The revelation spread through the crowd like ripples across a pond, each person becoming a messenger of this good news.

The information raced beyond the airport perimeter with the speed of wildfire, carried by text messages, social media posts, and old-fashioned word of mouth to every corner of the island where Bastia supporters were still celebrating.

Bars that had remained open all night to accommodate the celebrators erupted in fresh celebrations. Streets that had finally begun to quiet suddenly filled again with the sound of car horns and ecstatic voices.

Even Bastia's seasoned players, men who had witnessed countless transfer sagas and understood the cold economics that usually drove such decisions, stood stunned by their new captain's declaration.

In their professional judgment, Julien now had the technical ability, the tactical intelligence, and the proven big-match temperament to get a place in any team in Europe.

Yet he was staying.

As the team made its way toward the waiting bus, Jérôme Rothen approached Julien with the posture of a man who had seen everything the beautiful game could offer.

He draped a arm around Julien's shoulder, guiding him away from the crowd toward the team bus. "You're absolutely certain about this decision?" He asked, his tone telling the meaning of such decision and genuine concern.

"Yes." The single word was quite decisive.

Rothen's face crinkled into a smile that contained multiple emotions—pride, admiration, and perhaps a touch of wonder at the rare species of player.

"Then I'll fight alongside you for another year," He said, his voice gaining strength with each word. "I know the team will definitely need to bring in quality reinforcements if we're serious about making an impact in Europe. I don't know if these old legs will still be useful, but I'm prepared to take a significant pay cut to renew for one final season with the club, then hang up my boots with dignity."

When Rothen spoke these words, his eyes held the calm glow of a man at peace with his choices, without a trace of regret or bitterness for opportunities that might have been.

Julien observed his face, searching for the right words to acknowledge such selfless loyalty, but Rothen raised a hand to stop any attempt at sentiment.

"Don't even think about trying to comfort me," He said with a chuckle. "Being able to work alongside you at the twilight of my career, watching your meteoric rise, and even winning two major championships—I'm already living beyond my wildest dreams.

You should know that before coming to Bastia, I had been out of professional football for nearly a year. I had genuinely intended to walk away from the game forever, but something deep inside refused to let me abandon this beautiful obsession."

As other teammates began approaching toward them, Rothen quickly delivered his parting thought.

"Perhaps I can follow you in creating one more miracle," He said, his voice filled with emotion as he gave Julien's shoulder a final, meaningful pat before resolutely boarding the bus.

Behind Julien, Vincent appeared with an eager expression. "Are you truly, really staying with the team?"

Julien just nodded and smiled.

Throughout the coastal road that led back to Bastia's training base, the entire bus hummed with discussion about Julien's decision to stay. Players who had been too tired to speak just minutes earlier found new energy in debating about this.

At the front of the bus, Hadzibegic sat in the coach's seat, his usual stern demeanor replaced by an expression of pure contentment. His hands now rested peacefully in his lap as he gazed out at the familiar Corsican landscape.

Coming to Bastia—taking a chance on this modest club with its passionate supporters and limited resources had been the defining decision of his coaching career. Tonight, as they carried French Cup gold back to their island home, he knew with absolute certainty that he had chosen correctly.

Back at the training base, each player retreated to their assigned dormitory room. The club had invested in providing individual quarters for every squad member, though many chose to maintain their own homes and families elsewhere on the island.

Julien collapsed onto his bed with the satisfied exhaustion. His mind remained filled with the celebration—tens of thousands of voices raised in perfect harmony, the rhythmic thunder of applause, the moment when the trophy was placed in his hands.

The roar of the crowd still echoed in his ears like the distant crash of waves against Corsican cliffs, a sound that would provide the soundtrack to his dreams for months to come.

Julien finally had time to check his victory points.

When he opened the system and saw the new addition of 120 victory points, he was stunned—so many!

Indeed, important matches were the way to earn more.

With his current balance reaching 181 points, Julien felt no hesitation in making what seemed like an obvious investment in his future.

[Exchange Successful!]

[Victory Points -100, Remaining Victory Points: 81]

[Obtained: Victory Chest x1]

The familiar rush of anticipation coursed through his veins as he prepared to discover what enhancement awaited him. These chests had never disappointed him yet.

[Opening Victory Chest x1]

[Obtained Random Enhancement Ability—Flexibility Attribute Receives Additional Enhancement!]

[Flexibility Enhancement +1: Additional Effect—When Ball Control attribute exceeds 85, this effect will trigger: Ball control ability in unconventional positions improves by 30% (all ball-contact body parts except hands), with preferred foot improving to 50%;

Unconventional positions: such as falling, losing balance, non-standing states, etc.]

'Flexibility enhancement!'

As Julien absorbed the details of his latest enhancement, a slow smile spread across his face. To the casual observer, flexibility might seem like a relatively modest improvement compared to raw pace or shooting power. But for a forward who understood the complexity of elite football, this was practically an extraordinary skill!

The ability to maintain perfect ball control while falling, while off-balance, while twisting his body into seemingly impossible positions—this opened up entirely new possibilities.

Goalkeepers train widely to read conventional shooting positions and angles, but how could they possibly prepare for shots delivered from positions that were beyond unconventional and beyond their expectation?

Julien's mind immediately began cataloguing the applications: volleys struck while falling backward, flicked finishes executed while sliding, extreme touches while dribbling.

His shooting attribute had always benefited from his superior ball control—the two skills were inextricably linked in the art of finding the net. Now, with this enhanced flexibility, he would possess the ability to score from situations where other players would struggle even to make contact with the ball.

The treasure chest system continued to exceed his expectations, providing exactly the type of enhancement that would be helpful at the highest levels of competition.

This reinforced his understanding of his abilities and plans for the future: the early stages of his development will be based on these improvements through chest rewards, allowing him to rapidly rise to elite status.

Later, as he approached the absolute pinnacle of his abilities, he would invest points in his potential and fine-tuning his skills.

Understanding this progression made Julien even more convinced that transferring to a larger club at this moment would be a miscalculation. He needed time to maximize the benefits of the chest system, to accumulate the victory points that would come from continued success in familiar surroundings.

Mostly now he needed to carefully consider which players Bastia could realistically attract in the coming transfer window. With ten million euros to spend and the allure of European competition to offer, they would have opportunities that had never previously existed.

But success in the transfer market required more than just financial resources.

The research would begin tomorrow.

The next day, Bastia's entire squad was given a day off.

Even though the next Ligue 2 match was less than two days away, the team had already clinched the championship early.

The final four matches were meaningless from a competitive standpoint. Win or lose, Bastia's promotion to Ligue 1 was secure.

The coach had already announced his intention to use these remaining fixtures as opportunities for squad evaluation, giving playing time to reserves and fringe players who might prove useful for the challenges ahead. The stars who had carried them this far deserved rest, and the substitutes deserved their moment to audition for larger roles.

For the first time in months, Bastia's training facility rested in unusual tranquility. Even Julien, notorious for his dedication to extra training sessions and tactical study, had succumbed to the exhaustion of triumph and missed his customary morning workout routine.

The silence of the empty training pitches was in contrast to the continuing celebrations throughout Bastia itself, where the party that had begun at the Stade de France showed no signs of ending.

On every street corner throughout the port city, groups of supporters gathered around newspaper stands, their voices energetic as they relived every moment of the previous night's triumph. The local papers had sold out by mid-morning, their headlines already becoming collector's items that would be framed and displayed in homes across Corsica.

The most significant story dominating every conversation was, naturally, Julien's public declaration of not leaving the club. This single statement had transformed what might have been a bittersweet celebration that victory tinged with the fear of inevitable departure into of only pure joy.

For years, Bastia supporters had lived with the constant anxiety that accompanied supporting a smaller club blessed with exceptional talent. They had learned to love carefully, always prepared for the heartbreak of watching their heroes depart for grander stages and larger paychecks.

But today, they could walk with their heads held high, their voices ringing with pride as they answered anyone who questioned their captain's future: "No, you cannot take Julien De Rocca away from us. He is our legend! He is our king! And kings do not abandon their kingdoms!"

By midday, sharp-eyed fans had discovered something extraordinary near the Terra-Vecchia center building. On the wall of an adjacent structure, a piece of street art had appeared overnight—clearly the work of someone who had been too inspired by the previous evening's events to wait for official commissions or permissions.

The artwork was simple: a meticulously detailed portrait of De Rocca in his moment of triumph, arms spread wide as he had stood at the Stade de France, accompanied by a single line of text that seemed to capture the essence of everything Bastia supporters felt in their hearts:

"The day you chose Bastia, Bastia embraced football."

________________________________________________________

Check out my patreon where you can read more chapters:

patreon.com/LorianFiction

Thanks for your support!