Emperor of Football: Julien De Rocca Chapter 402: Chapter-402 An Announcement

Liverpool Football Club Official Announcent

We are thrilled and imnsely proud to announce to the world: a new, ambitious era officially begins at Anfield.

We are honored to reveal the first and most significant signing of this new chapter—the club has reached an agreent with French national team captain Julien De Rocca, who officially transfers from SC Bastia to Liverpool Football Club!

This 18-year-old attacking prodigy has signed a long-term contract with the club and will wear the iconic number 10 shirt—a symbol of our core ambitions.

Last season, Julien achieved extraordinary success, leading Bastia as their undisputed jewel to an unprecedented treble: the Europa League, Ligue 1 title, and Trophée des Champions.

In the Europa League final, he delivered a performance that sent shockwaves through European football—an unprecedented hat-trick of goals and assists in a single match, single-handedly dominating the ga with his genius and skill.

Abdullah Al-Salman, representing Liverpool's new ownership group PIF, stated: "Julien represents the future of football. His arrival is a resounding declaration of our ambition—to bring the world's most exceptional talents to Anfield and win everything. His technique, vision, and goal-scoring ability perfectly aligns with Liverpool's footballing philosophy. We firmly believe he will develop into a world-class superstar here and help the club usher in a glorious new era."

Regarding this transfer, Julien De Rocca himself expressed: "Joining a club with Liverpool's magnificent history and passionate supporters fills with pride. I feel the enormous trust and expectations the club has placed in , and it drives forward. I'm eager to challenge myself in the Premier League and, alongside my new teammates, win trophies for this great club and these incredible fans. I cannot wait to run out at Anfield with 'You'll Never Walk Alone' echoing around the stadium."

Welco to Anfield, Julien!

This is your new ho. This is where you'll write the next chapter of your legend!

The official announcent settled all the previous speculation.

Among the scramble from Real Madrid, PSG, Manchester City, Bayern Munich, Manchester United, Chelsea, and other European giants, Liverpool erged as Julien's final destination.

According to multiple dia reports, Liverpool paid Bastia a transfer fee of €80 million—not the highest bid received, but a staggering sum nonetheless.

In truth, this was Bastia showing goodwill, only requiring Julien's release clause to be triggered. However, the Saudi ownership didn't need the discount, and instead offered Bastia a five-year shirt sponsorship deal—this ti, the prestigious chest sponsorship at Ligue 1's premium tier.

anwhile, Julien's wages exceeded £300,000 per week. So outlets reported £350,000, others £400,000. The exact figure remained uncertain, but everyone agreed: well over £300,000 weekly.

English football pundits wasted no ti offering their verdicts.

"This is madness. I'm not questioning Julien's talent, but placing this wage burden on an 18-year-old's shoulders is extrely dangerous. It will make dressing room managent incredibly difficult."

"It's a massive gamble. But if he can replicate his Bastia form, he'll send Anfield into delirium."

"This demonstrates how alarmingly inflated modern football has beco. A player's value is no longer determined solely by on-pitch performance but by market capital. We need to be vigilant."

"Phenonal talent, phenonal price. Every Premier League defender's nightmare begins next season."

Amidst the tremors of that official announcent, May 25th arrived.

Dawn broke over Bastia. The sky still wore its pale morning hues, but the city had already awakened.

Fans eagerly pulled on their shirts and flooded into the streets. Today was monuntally special for Bastia supporters—not because of a Champions League final, but their treble-winning parade!

Early morning saw Bastia's Port Boulevard completely subrged beneath a human tide, as if the entire heart of Corsica had converged here, beating violently with collective emotion.

Countless blue flags, scarves, and banners draped every corner of the city. Blue confetti poured from balconies like a blizzard, shimring against the diterranean's azure waters.

As the crowds swelled denser, the atmosphere intensified.

The fans surrendered themselves to an almost delirious joy, burning through every ounce of energy they possessed.

Sunlight blazed. Sea wind carried its salty bite.

But neither could match the scorching heat radiating from this mass of humanity determined to exhaust every last drop of celebration.

This wasn't rely a parade. This was an elaborate, unspoken farewell party—everyone resolved to etch it into mory in the most spectacular fashion possible.

At Nine o'clock sharp.

An open-top bus emblazoned with massive images of the Europa League, Ligue 1, and Trophée des Champions trophies rolled slowly out of Bastia's training complex, escorted by local police.

The bus's exterior bore enormous lettering: "BASTIA ARE CHAMPIONS OF EUROPE" alongside a panoramic photo of the entire squad.

When the bus appeared on the streets, the entire boulevard exploded with earth-shaking roars!

"BASTIA!"

"JULIEN!!"

The shouts crashed over them like tidal waves.

Julien, De Bruyne, Lukaku, Kanté, Mané, and the rest wore commorative championship t-shirts, waving continuously to the crowds below.

Teammates positioned Julien at the very front. He gripped the Europa League trophy, repeatedly hoisting it high overhead—each lift triggering increasingly frenzied waves of cheering.

Behind him, Roten, Lukaku, and others sprayed champagne wildly, roaring "BASTIA ARE CHAMPIONS!" Unrestrained joy radiated from every face.

The bus crawled forward at an agonizingly slow pace, like a ship cutting through a blue ocean.

Along the route, balconies, windows, lampposts, even bus stop roofs overflowed with delirious supporters. They waved flags, blew horns, scread themselves hoarse calling out each hero's na.

Banners appeared everywhere:

"ONCE IN A LIFETI TREBLE! WE WITNESSED HISTORY!"

"LEGENDS NEED NO CROWNING—JULIEN IS KING!"

"THANK YOU, JULIEN! YOU MADE OUR DREAMS CO TRUE!"

"FROM FONTENAY-SOUS-BOIS TO THE SUMMIT OF EUROPE—OUR JULIEN!"

Throughout the journey, fans repeatedly broke through security barriers, desperate to touch the bus, to embrace the players.

The bus had to stop frequently. Security personnel linked arms forming human chains, but their faces showed understanding and smiles.

After hours of parading, the convoy finally reached the traditional celebration venue—Saint Nicolas Square.

Before Napoleon's statue, the square had transford into a churning blue ocean. Even the central fountain had been dyed blue.

A temporary stage rose from the crowd's center.

Chataigner was first to mount the platform. He wore a slightly rumpled suit with no tie, gripping the microphone tightly.

He gazed at the surging blue sea before him, silent for several seconds.

Then he roared: "BASTIA! MY FAMILY!"

The surroundings erupted with deafening responses.

"Thirty-five years! Thirty-five years ago, we watched our dreams shatter. Back then, this square held only tears and silence.

But today!

Look at you! Look at us! Look at this blue ocean! Look at these heroes!"

Chataigner gestured around at the fans, at himself, at the players, continuing.

"We've taken it back! And we didn't bring back just one trophy! We brought back Bastia's pride! Tell everyone—we didn't win this championship to prove how great we are. We won it because what we once lost, we will reclaim!!"

"BASTIA!"

The crowd's roar nearly lifted the sky itself. The celebration had barely begun, yet already reached boiling point.

Chataigner drew a deep breath, his gaze cutting through the unrestrained masses to land precisely on Julien.

"Now I want to say sothing to one person in particular."

The entire square fell miraculously silent. Every eye turned toward Julien on stage.

"Julien.

Two years ago, on that rainy day when you arrived from Nantes to Corsica, many people told you were trouble. That you were finished. That I shouldn't waste ti and resources on you.

But I saw a lost genius—soone who didn't need accusations, but opportunity. A ho.

I rember when I drove you to the training ground for the first ti. You said to : 'Sir, I won't let you down.'"

Chataigner's voice cracked completely. He had to pause, and blink hard to not let tears fall.

"Today I want to tell you, Julien—you didn't just avoid disappointing . You exceeded . You exceeded everyone's wildest dreams!

With your feet, your heart, your soul—you gave us all a miracle!

You helped this island rediscover its pride!

You proved that believing in a young person's potential is the most worthwhile gamble in this world!

Thank you, Julien!

Always rember—Bastia will forever be your ho.

There will always be a door open for you here. An embrace waiting for you.

You will always be our son. Our hero."

The mont Chataigner's words ended, Julien stepped forward and embraced him tightly.

Perhaps without Chataigner, he would still have beco a star. But Chataigner's sincerity toward him was genuine and irreplaceable.

Clap clap clap!

Thunderous applause exploded across the square.

This gesture carried more power than any eloquent speech.

Around them, so emotional fans were already weeping openly, covering their faces with their arms, shoulders trembling.

Not just for this mont, but because their captain was leaving.

________________________________________________________

Check out my patreon where you can read more chapters:

patreon/LorianFiction

Thanks for your support!