Soccer System: All the Skills, One Player!

The atmosphere in the Brighton dressing room was electrifying. Players, coaches, and members of the staff gathered in a tight semi-circle around the television. They had carefully positioned it so that everyone could watch the draw for the last 16 of the Champions Youth League.

Lucas, sitting on the bench between Miguel and Felix, watched the screen with an anxious smile. He noticed the nervousness disguised as excitement in his colleagues around him.

Arthur was playing with a bottle of water, spinning it endlessly, while Javier and Loki were quietly debating who they could face.

"Do you think it could be Liverpool?" Loki asked, trying not to sound worried.

"I hope not. But if it is, let's show them who's boss."

Meanwhile, Daniel Riber and Luiz Fernando were analyzing the possibilities more seriously. "If a team like Bayern comes, we have to be careful of their physical strength. Those guys play hard," commented Daniel.

"We're good. We have technique, speed and, above all, teamwork. Whoever it is, we can beat them."

Across the room, Eddie and Alex were just as excited. Although they maintained a professional attitude, they couldn't hide the sparkle in their eyes. These were this team's first playoffs.

"If we get past this stage, there will be no limit to what these boys will do." Alex commented with a smile.

Eddie massaged his temples. "I don't want to imagine what the dressing room will be like after that."

"I'd rather play an Italian team. I know they focus a lot on defense, and that would give us a lot of freedom to play our style," Javier suggested.

Raphael agreed. "Yes, but if a Spanish team comes, it will be a challenge because our styles are similar."

When the broadcast started, everyone was silent. UEFA displayed the pots with the qualified teams, separated into the group leaders and the runners-up. The announcer explained the rules: teams from the same country could not play with each other at this stage, and there would be no matches between teams from the same group.

Brighton was in the runners-up pot, waiting to find out their fate.

The cameras showed the balls with the teams' names on them being placed in the containers, while the presenter made a speech about the quality of the qualifying clubs.

"Bayern, Barcelona, Real Madrid, Milan, Juventus... we're in a tournament of giants," commented Felix.

Lucas smiled, lightly tapping Anton on the shoulder. "That's how it has to be. If we want to be the best, we have to play against the best."

At the start of the draw, they announced the team names. First, a small ball was drawn from the first-place pot.

"And the first team to be drawn is... Barcelona!"

"Wow, straight up with a giant!" commented Miguel, as everyone leaned in to see who the Catalans' opponents would be.

The presenter pulled out another ball, now from the runners-up pot. "And Barcelona's opponent will be... Porto!"

Everyone in the dressing room breathed a sigh of relief.

"At least we escaped them," said Arthur, laughing.

As the names were announced, the dressing room became quieter. Each draw increased the tension. "Liverpool will face Ajax," announced the announcer, followed by mixed reactions from the players.

When only a few names remained, Brighton had still not been drawn. And at one point they had changed the order of the pots, choosing first the opponents who came second and then those who came first.

Nerves were running high. Then, finally, it was Brighton's turn. The announcer took a small ball from the second-placed team's pot and announced:

"The next team will be... Brighton!"

Everyone held their breath as the announcer took a ball from the group leaders' pot.

"And Brighton's opponents will be... Real Madrid!"

The dressing room was completely silent. Everyone's eyes were glued to the screen, as if they couldn't believe what they had just heard. Real Madrid. The Spanish giant, famous for its history, its achievements and, most importantly, its senior squad that had won the last Champions League.

"Real Madrid..." Miguel was the first to break the silence, his voice a whisper laden with incredulity.

"We're fucked." Felix muttered, leaning forward and covering his face with his hands.

Arthur dropped his water bottle on the floor, his eyes wide. "Did it have to be those guys?"

"They have players who already play in another minor league." Javier said. "Most of their under-20s also play for Real Madrid Castilla."

The changing room was now full of murmurs and nervous laughter. Lucas then stood up, picked up Arthur's bottle, which was rolling on the floor near the television, and threw it at Arthur. Then Lucas turned off the television, and that caught everyone's attention.

"So that's it? That's how we're going to react? Are we going to lower our heads just because they've drawn Real Madrid? Because if so, you can stop here. We don't even need to go out on the pitch." Lucas said out loud.

Everyone looked at him, surprised by his decisive tone. Miguel opened his mouth to say something, but Lucas held up his hand, asking for silence.
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"Listen. I know they're giants. I know their name carries weight. They have a history, they have talent, and yes, they are favorites in this match, even though we've been unbeaten for over ten games. But you know what? That means nothing when we go out on the pitch."

He paused, walking among the players. "Do you remember the game against Dortmund in the group stage? They were favorites too. And what happened? We played with everything we had and won the second leg. We nearly won the first one too."

"But Real are another level. They have players who have already played professionally."

"So what? They're players like us. They have two legs, two arms and a heart beating in their chest. What's going to decide this game isn't the name on their uniform or their history. It's who wants it more. Who will fight harder. Who will leave their blood, sweat and tears on that pitch."

"Remember what we are. We are Brighton. We don't have the weight of their history, but we have something much more important: we're hungry. Hungry to prove that we can be among the best. Hungry to show that no one will intimidate us. And above all, a hunger to win. It was the will that founded this club and that will always be the essence we must carry."

"I believe in every one of you. Raphael, you have a speed that can break down any defense. Miguel, you're our number ten. Felix, you're an advanced defender. Anton, you're a goalkeeper who has saved the impossible. And all of you, WE, together, are a team. We are a family. Real Madrid may have incredible players on whom they paid millions of euros when those players had barely touched a ball, but they certainly don't have what we have: unity."

Lucas raised his fist. "When we go out on that pitch, I want every one of you to play like it's the last game of your life. No matter what happens, we're going to go out with our heads held high. We're going to show the world what Brighton is made of, and we're going to be champions!"

"That's it! Let's go all out!" Luiz Fernando stood up.

Miguel also stood up, raising his arms. "Let them get ready! Brighton are coming!"

"You talk a good game when you want to. I'm with you." Willian said.

Soon, the entire dressing room was on its feet, shouting and clapping. Jimenez, who arrived late and only saw the moment his opponent was announced, smiled as he looked at Lucas.

Eddie approached and put his hand on Lucas' shoulder. "That was inspiring, Captain. Now it's time to turn those words into action. Do ten laps of the major field before heading to the institute."

"Yes, sir!"

As the players left the dressing room with enthusiasm, Eddie, Alex and Jimenez stayed behind, observing the group's contagious energy.

Jimenez crossed his arms and leaned slightly against the wall, watching Eddie with an intrigued smile. "I have to admit, Eddie, at first I had some doubts about your decision to take the armband off Felix and give it to Lucas. I almost reversed that when I became the coach."

Eddie raised an eyebrow and remained silent, letting Jimenez continue.

"I mean, Felix is a solid player, experienced, and has a natural way of leading. The trade seemed... risky. I didn't think Lucas would have the same firmness or authority. But after that..."

Jimenez gestured towards the corridor. "I was wrong. Lucas may not be the most traditional leader, but he has something that few can convey. He inspires. And that's exactly what these kids need."

Eddie smiled slightly, putting his hands in his pockets. "I knew there would be resistance to change. Felix is an excellent player and is still a key part of our team, but leadership goes beyond experience or toughness. It's about being able to make everyone around you believe in something bigger. And with Lucas, it's as if the team has gained a new soul."

Alex nodded in agreement. "Lucas has the soul of an old man. When I talk to him, it feels like he's much older."

Jimenez sighed and ran his hand through his beard. "You're right. He turned a moment of tension into pure motivation. If he can do that here, imagine what he can do on the pitch against Real Madrid."

Eddie patted Jimenez on the back in a friendly gesture. "So I think we're all on the same page now. But we still have a lot of work to do to prepare for this game. Real Madrid is a huge mountain to climb, but this group has something special. They can surprise the world."