The air in the players' tunnel at Stamford Bridge was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and nervous energy. Leon Fischer stood shoulder to shoulder with Chelsea's captain, Enzo Fernández (Current: 87). The roar of the crowd above them was a physical force, vibrating in his ribs, each cheer and chant for the home side threatening to break him apart.

He closed his eyes for a split second, and his mind flashed back to his own Premier League debut, a nervous bundle of excitement and fear. That day, the roar of Villa Park had been overwhelming, but this… this was different.

This was Stamford Bridge, a fortress, and the stakes were astronomically higher. The gulf between that first tentative step and this colossal moment felt massive, yet deep down, he still felt like that same scared boy.

Coach Emery, usually a picture of calm intensity, stepped beside him, his hand firm on Leon's shoulder. His voice, a low whisper that cut through the din, was filled with a fierce belief. "Go prove to them, Leon. Prove to them that sixteen isn't an excuse—it's a miracle."

Leon met Emery's gaze, a silent promise passing between them. He took a deep breath, the weight of expectation settling on his shoulders. He would prove it. He would.

KICKOFF!

Chelsea immediately exploded out of the blocks, fueled by the deafening roar of their home crowd.

Their 'Current' ratings, from Enzo Fernández (Current: 87) in midfield to Raheem Sterling (Current: 86) on the wing, pulsed with aggressive intent.

They pressed Villa relentlessly, a blue wave crashing down on every claret and blue shirt.

Leon found himself immediately under immense pressure. He received a pass from John McGinn (Current: 84), and before he could even look up, he saw the 'ghosted outstretched leg' of Conor Gallagher (Current: 85) lunging in.

Leon tried a quick turn, but the ball, usually glued to his feet, seemed to bobble. He misjudged the touch, and the ball squirmed away.

THWACK!

Gallagher won the tackle, and the ball immediately zipped forward to Nicolas Jackson (Current: 84). Jackson burst through, clean on goal!

Leon's heart leaped into his throat. His 'sight' screamed a 'leg-and-ball' projection from Jackson, a powerful shot coming. He watched, helpless, as Jackson unleashed a fierce strike.

The ball rocketed towards the net!

But Emiliano Martínez (Current: 85), Villa's goalkeeper, reacted with incredible speed.

He launched himself across goal, his 'Current' radiating pure instinct, getting a strong hand to it, pushing it wide for a corner.

SAVE! A collective gasp of relief from the Villa bench.

Leon felt a wave of fury at himself. A misplaced pass.

A near-goal conceded. What if I really am just hype? The insidious thought, a venomous whisper, began to creep into his mind, threatening to unravel his composure.

Every time Leon touched the ball after that, a wave of jeers erupted from the Chelsea faithful.

"BOOOO!" they roared, their voices dripping with mockery, trying to get into his head. "OVERRATED! ONE-SEASON WONDER!"

He tried to ignore it, to focus on his 'sight', but the noise, the pressure, the internal doubt, made it harder.

He saw the 'ghosted runs' of Chelsea's midfielders, but his reactions felt a fraction slower. His passes, usually pinpoint, occasionally drifted. He felt like he was fighting against himself as much as against Chelsea.

"Chelsea are absolutely dominating this first half! They're relentless in their press! And Leon Fischer, usually so composed, seems to be struggling under the pressure today. A few uncharacteristic mistakes from the young midfielder!"

Chelsea continued to press. Raheem Sterling (Current: 86) was a constant menace on the wing, his speed and trickery causing problems for Matty Cash (Current: 83). Leon tried to track back, to cover, but Chelsea's movement was too fluid, too quick.

Around the 30th minute, Chelsea had another golden opportunity. Enzo Fernández (Current: 87) hit a sublime through ball to Cole Palmer (Potential: 90, Current: 85), who was clean through.

Palmer unleashed a powerful shot, but once again, Martínez (Current: 85) was there, making another crucial save, pushing it over the bar. MARTÍNEZ AGAIN!

Leon felt a surge of gratitude for his goalkeeper. Martínez was keeping them in the game, single-handedly.

The pressure mounted. Villa struggled to get out of their own half. Every clearance was met with a roar of disapproval from the Chelsea fans.

Leon's legs felt heavy, his mind racing, trying to find a solution, an opening, anything to break Chelsea's suffocating grip.

Then, in the 42nd minute, the inevitable happened.

Chelsea won a corner. The ball swung in, a dangerous, curling cross. Leon saw the 'ghosted head' projection of Thiago Silva (Current: 87), rising above everyone, a powerful header coming. He screamed a warning to his defenders, tried to push forward to block, but the box was a chaotic mess of bodies.

BOOM! Silva's header slammed into the net!

GOOOAL! Chelsea 1 - Aston Villa 0!

Stamford Bridge erupted, a deafening roar of triumph. Leon watched, his heart sinking. They were trailing. And it felt like it was his fault, his early mistake, his inability to control the midfield. The 'What if I'm just hype?' whisper grew louder, more insistent.

The referee blew the halftime whistle almost immediately after the goal. The sound was a mournful wail. Players trudged back to the dressing room, heads bowed, shoulders slumped. The weight of the 1-0 deficit, the relentless pressure, the Champions League dream hanging by a thread, was crushing.

Leon walked, his legs feeling like lead, his mind a whirlwind of self-recrimination.