The stadium roared long before kickoff, its noise pressing on Noah's ears like an invisible weight. Chants in German, drums pounding from one corner of the stands, and banners waving with Leverkusen's red and black crest made it feel like enemy territory. He swallowed, flexing his fingers as he stood on the pitch. His boots felt heavier today. His chest tighter.
This is different. He knew it wasn't nerves about playing—it was nerves about leading. Vermeer's words before the game still echoed in his head: "You're the general now. Orchestrate. Command."
He had agreed, nodded even, because that's what a professional would do. But in truth, the word general terrified him. Before yesterday, he had only been a connector—linking passes, keeping possession. Now, every decision he made would shape the whole team.
Ali jogged up beside him and punched his shoulder lightly. "Relax, bro. First touch will calm you down."
"Yeah…" Noah forced a smile, shaking his head to clear the noise, focusing on the field lines, on his position, on breathing.
The whistle blew, and the first pass rolled back to him.
Okay, easy one. Settle, look up, switch to Ali on the right.
But before his boot struck the ball, Leverkusen's midfield line surged like a closing trap, pressing in perfect sync. Their forward blocked the pass lane, Müller, the defensive midfielder, shadowed Noah's pivot, and a winger cut off the back pass.
"Shift left! Hold the middle! Give me an outlet!" Noah shouted. His voice cracked, barely audible over the crowd.
"Louder!" Ali barked from the right flank, but it was too late—his teammate in possession panicked, tried to turn inside, and immediately lost the ball.
Leverkusen transitioned in a blink, feeding their striker, who snapped off a shot just wide. The crowd erupted anyway, treating it like a goal. Rival chants filled the stadium: "Fluke! Fluke! Fluke!"
Noah bit his lip, dropping back to help on the next play.
[Football Vision Console]
Pass Map Efficiency: 74% (Below Threshold)
Press Resistance Duels: 0/2 Won
Vocal Command Recognition: Low (25%)
The pop-up almost mocked him. Only 74%? Normally, he sat near 90%. And vocal commands low? His teammates weren't listening—maybe because he didn't sound like he believed what he was saying.
He adjusted his run and demanded a pass from Jasper, their goalkeeper. "Quick outlet!" he called, motioning for a short pass. Jasper hesitated, then launched it long downfield, bypassing Noah entirely.
They don't trust me yet.
The game settled into a rhythm—one dominated by Leverkusen's press. Noah tried to push higher, to call out movements: "Left overlap, Ali pinch in!" But either they were a step late or ignored him entirely, unsure if following him would even work.
The ball came to his feet again near the center circle. He scanned, saw a one-two lane, and hit a pass—too soft, too obvious. Müller slid in, intercepting effortlessly, then barked, "You call that command?" before springing forward.
[Football Vision Console]
Interception Error: Passing Speed -12% (Ideal)
Spatial Error: Opponent Lane Prediction (1 Step Late)
Noah chased, but Müller was already laughing as he released to their winger. "Iniesta wannabe, eh? Cute passes yesterday—what happened to your magic?"
The winger cut inside, drawing two Ajax defenders, then laid off for their striker, who curled it past Jasper. 1–0.
The stadium exploded, rival fans pounding drums and shouting in English just for him: "Fluke! Fluke! Fluke!"
Müller clapped Noah on the back mockingly on the jog back. "Keep talking, maestro. Maybe one day they'll actually listen."
Noah's face burned. He gritted his teeth, calling for focus. "Heads up! Reset!" But his voice lacked conviction, more plea than command.
He pushed higher upfield on the restart, demanding the ball again. "Give it—Ali, tuck inside!" But the winger stayed wide, forcing Noah to turn awkwardly, giving Müller time to press again. Noah shielded and turned but released late, leading to a rushed clearance.
[Football Vision Console]
Pass Completion (Current Half): 65%
Duels Won: 1/5
Leadership Impact Rating: 42 (Low)
The stat burned into his vision, stabbing at his confidence. Forty-two? I've never been below sixty before…
A minute later, Ali muttered under his breath as he ran past, "You're trying too hard, Noah. Just play your game, man."
But what is my game now? He didn't know. He wasn't safe-passing Noah anymore, but he wasn't commanding Noah either. He was something awkward in between, and everyone could feel it.
The half wore on painfully, Noah trying again and again to direct plays, only for his timing to be off or his teammates to hesitate. One moment he called for a press trigger too early, leaving a gap behind; another, he hesitated and Leverkusen walked through midfield.
The crowd smelled blood. Every touch from Noah was met with whistles or sarcastic applause. "Ooohhh, he passed it sideways again!" one fan yelled, drawing laughter from a group near the tunnel.
By the thirty-fifth minute, Noah's frustration peaked. He attempted a diagonal switch—a high, ambitious ball—but it floated too long and was headed clear easily.
"Settle, Noah!" Ali barked. "We're scrambling because of you."
His chest tightened. The one thing he feared most was happening: his teammates were losing faith, and he couldn't even blame them.
[Football Vision Console]
Cognitive Load Warning: Stress Interference Detected
Pass Style Variance: Minimal (Predictable)
Vermeer finally stepped to the edge of his technical box, hands cupped to his mouth. "Noah! Calm down and breathe! Play your game!"
But what did his game even mean anymore? He had trained for three weeks to be a leader, to command, and yet now that he had the chance, everything felt heavier—like he was trying to wear someone else's boots.
The half closed with more jeers, rival fans chanting as if mocking his very existence: "Fluke! Fluke! Fluke!" The whistle finally came like a mercy kill.
Noah jogged into the tunnel, head down, lungs tight. He barely noticed Müller jogging past, patting his shoulder with a smirk. "Keep pretending, maestro. It's entertaining."
Vermeer met his eyes briefly as they approached the locker room. There was no anger there, just quiet disappointment, and somehow that hurt worse.
[Football Vision Console – First Half Summary]
Pass Completion: 67%
Duels Won: 2/7
Key Passes: 0
Leadership Impact Rating: 39 (Critical)
Recommendation: Reset Mental Load – Focus on Fundamentals
Noah stared at the numbers, his fists clenched tight. This wasn't him. At least—not the version of him he wanted to be.