My Ultimate Gacha System-Chapter 308 - 296: The Final Begins

Stadio Olimpico

Interior Corridor

5:52 PM

Inside the tunnel the walls are lined with Coppa Italia branding showing trophy images in gold against black backgrounds, and plaques mounted at regular intervals list past winners with years engraved in chronological order.

JUVENTUS - 14 TITLES 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

LAZIO - 7 TITLES

INTER - 8 TITLES

ROMA - 9 TITLES

The echo of boots on concrete fills the corridor and creates rhythmic sound that bounces between walls, and across the hall the AC Milan dressing room door is closed with voices murmuring faintly behind thick wood that muffles specific words into indistinct rumble.

Atalanta’s dressing room is narrow but clean with individual stalls arranged along three walls, and shirts hang waiting with names stitched across the back and the Coppa Italia patch sewn onto the left sleeve showing the competition’s official emblem.

Demien finds his stall and sets his bag down on the bench, and sitting beside his regular match boots are the custom Adidas Predator Elites that arrived this morning—matte black with blue accents and his initials "DW" embossed subtly on the heel.

He picks one up and the weight is lighter than expected while the material feels different from his usual boots with the upper constructed from some synthetic weave that Adidas calls Primeknit, and he examines the stud configuration on the sole before setting them back down beside the standard pair because the decision about which to wear will come after warm-up when he knows how the pitch responds and whether familiarity matters more than the marginal performance advantages the custom pair might offer.

Players begin changing slowly and the room fills with the rustle of fabric and the rip of Velcro as shin guards are secured, and socks are pulled up carefully before compression shorts are adjusted and shirts are tucked into place.

No music plays from anyone’s phone and conversations don’t develop beyond brief practical exchanges, and the silence carries different quality than nervous tension because this is focus rather than fear.

Gasperini enters at 6:14 PM with the team sheet printed on white paper, and he pins it to the tactical board without speaking before stepping back toward the door.

Players glance over and names are processed quickly, and Demien sees his position listed in midfield beside Ederson exactly where tactical preparation throughout the week indicated he would be.

He exhales once through his nose and continues tying his laces because confirmation doesn’t change preparation and the work required remains identical regardless of whether starting was certain or uncertain.

Outside the stadium fills and the roar begins building as supporters take their positions in the stands, and chants echo through concrete creating sustained noise that bleeds through walls into the dressing room where players can feel the vibration of thousands of voices synchronized.

Drums pound rhythmically from somewhere in the Curva Sud where the most dedicated supporters gather, and the bass carries through the structure and into bones in a way that makes the final feel physical before kickoff has even arrived.

The translucent panel slides into Demien’s vision as he stands to adjust his shirt one final time, and the blue text appears against the white wall behind the tactical board.

「CURRENT BALANCE」

「770 TP | 4 SP | 513 MP」

「NEW MATCH MISSION」

「OBJECTIVE: Win Coppa Italia Final」

「REWARD: 300 TP + 300 MP + 15 SP」

「BONUS OBJECTIVE: Score in the Final」

「BONUS REWARD: +200 TP + Skill Unlock」

「MISSION ACTIVE」

The panel fades after five seconds and he sits back down while his hands work through the familiar motion of retaping his wrists even though the tape doesn’t need adjustment because routine helps ground his mind in preparation rather than allowing it to project forward toward outcomes that can’t be controlled yet.

Gasperini steps to the center of the room at 6:27 PM and every player turns toward him while conversations stop mid-sentence, and he stands with his hands in his jacket pockets while his eyes move across the faces watching him.

"Sixty years since this club won a major trophy," he says, and the words carry weight that doesn’t require emphasis. "Sixty years. Tonight we end that."

He pauses and the room stays completely silent.

"We don’t just play to compete," he continues, and his voice stays level without rising. "We play to win. Every tackle. Every pass. Every second. Leave it all out there."

He claps once and the sound cracks sharply in the quiet room.

"Let’s go."

Players rise from benches and hands come together in the center of the room, and voices layer over each other creating one unified shout that’s sharp and brief before silence returns immediately.

Stadio Olimpico

Tunnel

6:38 PM

The corridor outside is dimmer than the dressing room and officials wait near the tunnel entrance wearing black uniforms with Coppa Italia badges, and the referee checks both lineups on his clipboard while his assistants stand beside him reviewing their own documentation.

AC Milan players emerge from their dressing room across the hall and their red and black shirts create visual contrast against the concrete walls, and faces are set with expressions that mirror Atalanta’s focus because both teams understand the magnitude of what sits ninety minutes ahead.

Both squads form lines with Atalanta on the left and Milan on the right, and mascots wearing miniature kits stand at the front holding hands with captains while trophy bearers position themselves behind the referee carrying the Coppa Italia on a platform covered in blue cloth.

The noise from the stadium grows louder as kickoff approaches and the sound builds like pressure that can’t be contained, and voices blend into sustained roar that suggests the Stadio Olimpico is completely full with over sixty thousand supporters creating atmosphere that will carry through the entire match.

The tunnel opens ahead and light spills in from the pitch where floodlights have been activated even though evening hasn’t fully arrived, and the referee signals with one raised hand that both teams should begin walking.

The roar hits like a physical force when they emerge and the sound crashes down from every direction simultaneously, and flags wave across every section creating walls of color—red and black on the northern end behind Milan’s goal, blue and black on the southern end behind Atalanta’s goal.

Smoke rises from flares in both curvas and the colors mix in the air creating hazy clouds that drift across the pitch, and the visual spectacle combines with the noise to create sensory overload that would overwhelm anyone not accustomed to these moments.

Atalanta’s players spread into their positions and Demien jogs to his spot in central midfield where Ederson is already positioned three yards to his right, and the grass feels firm beneath his boots while the evening air carries warmth that will fade as night settles completely.

The referee places the ball at the center circle and both captains meet for the traditional handshake, and the coin toss happens quickly with Milan winning the decision to kick off first.

Commentary Booth

6:43 PM

"Welcome to the Stadio Olimpico in Rome for the 2024-25 Coppa Italia final," the lead commentator says while the broadcast shows aerial shots of the packed stadium. "Atalanta face AC Milan in what promises to be a thrilling encounter between two teams desperate for silverware."

"This is Atalanta’s first major final in sixty years," his colleague adds while the camera focuses on the Atalanta supporters’ section. "Their last significant trophy came in 1963. For Milan, they’re seeking their first Coppa Italia since 2003—a twenty-two year wait that makes tonight equally important for both clubs."

The screen transitions to show both starting lineups side by side with player photos and formation graphics.

"Both managers have selected attacking lineups," the lead commentator continues. "Gasperini with his preferred 3-4-2-1, Pioli with Milan’s 4-2-3-1. This should be an open match with quality on both sides."

The camera focuses on Demien as he adjusts his position in midfield, and his name and number appear on screen with statistics displayed below.

"Demien Walter," the co-commentator says. "Nineteen years old. Twenty-eight goals and twenty-five assists across all competitions this season—fifty-three goal contributions in thirty-eight appearances. Those are world-class numbers from a teenager, and he’s been absolutely instrumental in Atalanta’s Champions League push and this cup final run."

The referee checks his watch and raises the whistle to his lips while players crouch slightly in their positions, and the stadium’s noise peaks as everyone realizes the final is about to begin.

The whistle blows.

Fweeeeeetttttttt!!!!!