Away Locker Room, San Siro

The away locker room felt smaller than it had ninety minutes ago, the walls pressing closer with the weight of being one goal down at San Siro against the defending champions, and Demien sat between Lookman and Koopmeiners with a towel draped over his shoulders while sweat dripped from his hair onto the tile floor.

His legs felt heavy—heavier than they should after only forty-five minutes—and he knew why because the Warrior Spirit activation at the 26th minute had drained stamina faster than his body could recover, the technique giving him that burst of energy to track back but extracting a cost that was now manifesting as lead in his thighs and tightness in his calves.

The system rating burned in his mind: 6.9/10 at halftime, zero assists, mission requirement 7.8 average which meant he needed an 8.7+ performance in the second half PLUS the assist that had eluded him twice when Maignan saved and once when Højlund shot wide.

Twenty-three chances left to get it right, he thought, and the pressure sat in his chest like a stone.

Gasperini stood at the tactical board mounted on the wall, a marker in his right hand and his expression calm despite the scoreline, and when he spoke his voice carried authority that made everyone stop fidgeting and pay attention.

"We're not out of this," the coach began, and he tapped the board where Atalanta's 4-2-3-1 was drawn in blue with Milan's shape overlaid in red. "Milan expect us to panic. They expect us to throw bodies forward and leave space for Leão to destroy us on the counter. We won't give them that satisfaction."

He drew arrows showing the adjustment—Atalanta's defensive line dropping five yards deeper in the opening fifteen minutes of the second half, compressing space and forcing Milan to break them down through patient buildup rather than quick transitions.

"Demien," Gasperini said, and his marker circled the attacking midfield position. "You need to drop slightly deeper in the first fifteen minutes. Help Pasalic and Koopmeiners control the middle. Milan will push to kill the game early—we need to weather that storm, then we push higher when their legs start going."

Demien nodded, committing every word to memory.

"When you receive the ball," Gasperini continued, his tone sharpening, "Tonali will be on you within two seconds. Every single time. You need to decide faster—one touch to turn if you have space, or release immediately if you don't. No hesitation, no trying to dribble through three players. Quick decisions, quick execution."

The instruction was clear and correct because every time Demien had held the ball too long in the first half, Milan's press had suffocated him and forced turnovers or safe passes that killed momentum.

Musso spoke up from his position near the back, still wearing his goalkeeper gloves, and his voice carried the confidence of someone who'd made three world-class saves to keep the deficit at only one goal.

"We stay compact," the Argentine said firmly. "No space between lines. Make them work for every meter. If we defend as a unit, we give ourselves a chance."

Tolói nodded, the captain's armband tight on his bicep after inheriting it from De Roon's injury, and several defenders murmured agreement while adjusting their shin guards and retaping ankles.

Gasperini's final words were direct and focused on the attacking players. "Lookman, Malinovskyi—when Demien finds you, attack with conviction. No half-measures. Højlund—your movement in the box has been good, but you need to be more clinical. One of those chances Maignan saved needs to go in the second half."

The Danish striker nodded seriously, disappointment still visible on his face from the two near-misses.

"Fifteen minutes," Gasperini said, checking his watch. "Use the bathroom, hydrate, tape anything that needs taping. When we go back out there, we show Milan exactly who Atalanta is."

The squad began moving—some heading for the bathroom, others drinking from water bottles, a few getting fresh tape applied by the medical staff—and Demien stood slowly because his legs protested the movement after sitting for ten minutes.

He walked to the sink and splashed cold water on his face, the shock of it helping clear his mind, and when he looked up into the mirror his reflection showed someone exhausted but not broken, determined despite the circumstances.

8.7 rating in forty-five minutes, he thought, and the number felt impossible against opposition this good. Plus one assist. That's the mission. That's what the system requires.

His phone was in his bag across the room, and he knew Sophia had sent messages at halftime—encouragement, support, probably telling him he was playing well despite the score—but there was no time to check because the referee's whistle would blow in three minutes and he needed every second to prepare mentally.

The door opened and one of Gasperini's assistants stuck his head in. "Two minutes, everyone back out."

The squad began filing toward the tunnel for the second time tonight, and the noise from San Siro filtered through the concrete walls—sixty-eight thousand Milan supporters who sensed victory, two thousand Atalanta fans who refused to surrender.

Demien adjusted his shirt and followed his teammates into the corridor, and with each step the pressure built because this was it, this was the forty-five minutes that would determine whether the mission succeeded or failed, whether the 200 TP and 30 MP reward came or whether he walked away from San Siro with nothing but experience and exhaustion.

46th Minute - Restart

Fweeeeeeeeeeet!

The second half kicked off under the San Siro floodlights that had grown brighter as evening deepened into night, and Atalanta's approach was immediate—Højlund tapped the ball back to Demien who immediately drove forward with urgency.

Milan's press activated instantly. Giroud closed from the front while Díaz tracked Demien's movement, but Gasperini's halftime instruction was clear in Demien's mind—move the ball quickly, don't hold it, find space before they suffocate you.

Demien took one touch forward and played it square to Koopmeiners who'd positioned himself centrally, and the Dutchman's first pass went back to Tolói as Milan's forwards continued pressing high.

Atalanta circulated the ball across their defensive line, patient despite trailing, and Milan's defensive shape was compact—ten men behind the ball in two organized lines that denied space between them.

Commentator: "Atalanta restart the second half and try to establish some possession, but Milan's defensive organization is excellent. They're happy to sit back and force Atalanta to break them down."

Co-Commentator: "Smart from Milan. Why rush when you're ahead? Make Atalanta take risks trying to equalize, then hit them on the counter when spaces open up."

Tolói played a long diagonal toward Lookman on the left wing, the ball floating through the night air, and Calabria challenged for the header with the Nigerian winger.

Calabria won the duel, heading clear toward midfield where Bennacer collected and immediately looked to start Milan's counter, but Pasalic was positioned well and intercepted before the Algerian could turn.

The Italian substitute played a quick pass to Demien who'd dropped into the left half-space to receive.

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