My Ultimate Gacha System

Demien's POV

「Assist #2 registered | Mission progress: 3/3 involvements LOCKED」

「Chances created: 5/5 ✓」

「Final-third pass accuracy: 15/16 (93.75%)」

「ALL OBJECTIVES COMPLETE」

The panel lingered for two seconds this time, the green checkmarks confirming everything, then vanished as Demien jogged forward toward where Lookman was already celebrating.

Commentary

"WALTER SURROUNDED... SPINS OUT... UNBELIEVABLE THREADED BALL! LOOKMAN WITH THE CHIP—THREE-NIL! THIS IS A MASTERCLASS FROM ATALANTA!"

"THAT PASS, FABIO! FORTY-FIVE YARDS, THREADED BETWEEN TWO DEFENDERS WITH THE PRECISION OF A SURGEON'S SCALPEL! And Lookman's finish—ice-cold, absolutely ice-cold! This is getting embarrassing for Cremonese now!"

Curva Nord

The stadium rose as one, the roar transcending anything that had come before because this wasn't just dominance anymore, this was destruction, and the Curva Nord started the fast call-and-response chant that only came out when Atalanta were truly flying.

"SI-GNOR!"

"SI-GNOR!"

"SI-GNOR!"

"SI-GNOR!"

The rhythm was infectious, spreading from north stand to east stand to west stand within seconds, twenty-three thousand voices unified in celebration, and even the neutral sections were joining in because football this good transcended club loyalty.

Lookman sprinted toward the corner flag and slid on his knees with both arms raised to the sky, his face pure joy, and Demien arrived second with Højlund right behind him, all three embracing while the rest of the team piled on top in a mass of celebration.

When they separated, Lookman grabbed Demien's face with both hands and pressed their foreheads together, shouting something in English that was lost in the noise but the meaning was clear—that pass was fucking perfect—and Demien just smiled and clapped once before turning back toward the center circle.

Touchline

Gasperini allowed himself a full smile now, the kind that rarely appeared on his face during matches, and he clapped three times—measured and controlled—before turning to his assistant.

"We could have five by halftime if we wanted," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the stadium noise.

The assistant nodded while making notes. "Walter's at ninety-four percent passing in the final third. Two assists, one goal. He's controlling everything."

"He understands the game," Gasperini replied, and coming from him that was the highest praise possible. "Knows when to hold, when to release, when to take responsibility. That's rare at eighteen."

43' - 45+1' |

The final three minutes of the half passed in a haze of Atalanta possession, the ball circulating in wide patient arcs while Cremonese chased without conviction, their legs too heavy and spirits too broken to mount any serious pressure.

At forty-three minutes Demien touched the ball twice—once receiving from Koopmeiners and playing immediately to Hateboer, once dropping to collect from Tolói and recycling back to Scalvini—both simple, both effective, both keeping the tempo controlled.

The fourth official raised his board showing one minute of added time, and Gasperini immediately signaled to his players to keep the ball, no risks, just see out the half and regroup.

45+1' |

De Roon had possession near the center circle when the referee checked his watch one final time before raising the whistle to his lips.

FWEEEEEEEEEEET!

HALF-TIME: ATALANTA 3-0 CREMONESE

The teams walked off to contrasting receptions—Atalanta's players applauded by twenty-three thousand supporters who remained standing and chanting, Cremonese's squad trudging toward the tunnel with heads down and shoulders slumped under the weight of forty-five minutes that had felt like ninety.

Half-Time Statistics

The big screen displayed the numbers that told the story better than words ever could:

ATALANTA 3-0 CREMONESE

Possession: 78% - 22%

Shots: 14 - 1

Shots on Target: 8 - 1

Expected Goals: 2.8 - 0.1

Corners: 7 - 0

Pass Accuracy: 89% - 71%

Demien Walter: 2 assists | 1 goal | 94% final-third pass accuracy | 5 chances created

Commentary - Half-Time Analysis

"Well, Marco, that was as comprehensive a forty-five minutes as you'll see in Serie A this season. Atalanta three, Cremonese nil, and it could genuinely have been five or six."

"Absolutely dominant, Luca. And the star of the show has been Demien Walter—two assists, one goal, involved in every single goal, controlling the tempo from that number eight position. At eighteen years old, this is the kind of performance that gets people talking across Europe."

"What impressed me most was his maturity. He never forced anything, never tried to do too much, just made the right decision every single time. That forty-five-yard pass for the third goal? That's world-class vision and execution. The curved strike for the second goal? Top-bin placement that a striker would be proud of. And the blind back-heel for the first? Pure instinct."

"Cremonese have been outclassed in every department. They came here to defend, to frustrate, to maybe steal a point, and they've been taken apart systematically. The question now is how many more Atalanta score in the second half."

Atalanta Dressing Room

The atmosphere was controlled celebration—players sitting at their lockers drinking water and energy drinks, some stretching tight muscles, others lying back with ice packs on their calves, and the quiet satisfaction of a job well done filled the room without anyone saying much.

Demien sat in his assigned spot between Lookman and Koopmeiners, his shirt already changed to a fresh one for the second half, and the system notification glowed at the edge of his vision.

「HALF-TIME MISSION UPDATE」

「Status: ALL OBJECTIVES COMPLETE」

「Rewards will be distributed at full-time」

「Current Performance: EXCELLENT」

「Match Rating Projection: 9.1」

He dismissed it with a thought and leaned back against the wall, letting his legs rest for the final time before the second half began.

Gasperini entered the dressing room, and the entire squad went quiet immediately, conversations cutting off mid-sentence as all eyes turned toward the manager.

"Good," Gasperini said simply, standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed. "That was very good. Professional, controlled, clinical when it mattered."

He paused, letting the words settle.

"But the match isn't over. Cremonese will come out desperate in the second half because three-nil down means they have nothing to lose. They'll press higher, take more risks, and if we get sloppy they'll punish us."

His eyes scanned the room, making contact with each player individually.

"So we go out and we finish them. No letting them back in, no cheap goals, no loss of concentration. We control the second half exactly like we controlled the first, and we put this match to bed early so I can rotate and save legs for next week."

De Roon stood, the captain's armband tight on his bicep. "Understood, Mister."

"Good. Five minutes, then back out for warm-up."

Gasperini left without another word, and the room's energy shifted immediately—the relaxed satisfaction replaced by focused determination because the job was only half done.

Curva Nord - Half-Time

The home support never sat down, the Curva Nord bouncing and chanting through the entire fifteen-minute break while drums thundered and scarves waved in constant motion, and the energy in the stadium felt electric despite the comfortable lead because this was Atalanta, this was their team, and they'd waited too long for performances like this.

"VINCI PER NOI, MAGICA ATALANTA!"

"VINCI PER NOI, MAGICA ATALANTA!"

Win for us, Magic Atalanta.

The chant spread from north to east to west, creating a wall of sound that reverberated through the empty pitch, and when the players emerged for the second-half warm-up the noise level climbed even higher because this was what football was supposed to feel like—your team dominating, your players performing, your stadium united in celebration.

Three assists locked, all mission objectives complete, and forty-five minutes still to play.

Now came the flood.