The stadium lights blazed down like judgment as the great Empire Legion—EL FC—marched onto the pitch. Beside them, their only real threat: the Asphalt Pride. The world watched, breath held. But Empire had something else… a secret weapon.
Rex Marlowe.
As he stepped onto the field, the crowd erupted. This was it—his moment. The roar of the fans, the floodlights overhead… he felt it in his bones. This was where he belonged.
The whistle blew. Kickoff.
This was the World League Cup Final—a clash written in the stars. Empire struck first, displaying total dominance: slick passes, ruthless dribbles, sharp chemistry. Within the first ten minutes, they were unstoppable.
But then—one slip. The left winger lost control on a hard drive, and in that blink, everything changed.
The Pride pressed back with fury. Empire resisted, but the rhythm had cracked. Commands flew from the sidelines, but neither team could break the deadlock. First half: a stalemate. Second half: same story.
Then, the twist.
No extra time. The officials raised the stakes. Golden Rule—first to score wins.
It wasn't football anymore. It was war.
Midfielders clashed. Strikers dashed. Defenders dove. And then—chaos. Empire's CAM went down hard. The call was made.
Rex Marlowe re-entered the game.
The crowd exploded. His name echoed from every corner. One word. His word.
"DOMINATE!"
He grinned. And he ran.
Rex broke through the Pride's lines with terrifying speed. Fired once—saved. Headed again—saved. A stunning bicycle kick—still denied. Their keeper, Armstrong, was a fortress.
The pressure mounted. Rex's fire began to flicker. Pride's plan was working: break their rhythm, break their mind.
Then, he snapped.
Rex went solo. No passes. Just raw fury. He tore through defenders like paper. But it was a trap. Just as he pulled back to strike, they hit him—a vicious tackle.
No card. No foul.
Rex hit the ground. The ref stayed silent. And Pride countered.
Empire's defense was scattered. Vulnerable. The Pride exploited it with brutal precision.
Seconds later… the net rippled.
The Pride had scored.
The whistle blew.
Game over.
Empire had fallen.
Rex lay on the pitch, eyes wide. The silence after the roar was deafening. Every stare, every breath, pointed at him.
He broke formation. He lost control. He lost them the Cup.
He didn't look back as he walked off the field.
He couldn't
__________________________
Rex Marlowe woke with a jolt.Sweat clung to his skin, soaking through his shirt. Another nightmare. Same one. Same guilt.He got out of bed, wandered into his tiny kitchen, brewed a bitter cup of coffee, and sat at the diner table. His phone screen lit his tired face as he scrolled.
Same headlines. Same outcome.Empire Legion disbanded.The GFF had officially sanctioned the coach.Banned for life.
Why?No one really knew.And Rex... he didn't care enough to find out.
Coffee drained, he took a shower, muttered a half-hearted prayer, and stepped out into the world.No more glory. No more cameras. No more crushing pressure.But also—no purpose.
For five years, he drifted. Job to job. Place to place. Now? He was a PE teacher in a rundown high school tucked deep in the ghettos.He hated it.But he stayed.He had the money to live like a king, but guilt made every dollar feel like blood money.
Late again—by choice. The school didn't pay enough for punctuality. Most of his classes were in the afternoon anyway.The school was chaos. A patchwork of crumbling walls, broken lockers, and 400 kids all trying to escape something.
Rex wasn't escaping.He was hiding.
He pushed through the crowd toward the teachers' lounge—and bumped into a student. A new face.But something stopped him. Not the kid's expression. His leg. When Rex accidentally knocked into it, the pain shot up his own foot like he'd hit steel.
He said nothing. Just walked it off.In this place, you didn't ask too many questions.
At school, Rex had a reputation.Not the worst teacher—just the most unbothered.He'd secretly helped the swim team win gold, the track team take silver, and the tennis team place in regionals.But no one knew. That was his rule.The principal once asked him to start a football team. Rex simply said, "If that happens, I quit."
Today?He was free. No classes. No meetings.He headed to the rooftop—his usual escape.
But peace didn't last.
The door creaked open behind him.Five large boys stepped out… with a smaller one trailing behind. Blonde, wearing a rosary.Gabriel.
Rex remembered him. The kid who transferred a few weeks ago and boldly announced in class, "I stand for Christ."Rex respected it.Others didn't.
The gang circled him. They beat him down. Took his wallet. Humiliated him.Rex watched.He wanted the boy to fight back.He never did.
When the gang finally left, Rex walked over.
"You good?" he asked.
Gabriel gave a soft smile. "Yeah."
"I'll take that as a yes." Rex helped him up.
But then, curiosity broke through."Why didn't you fight back? You could've won."
Gabriel looked at him. Calm."My weapons of warfare are not carnal."
It was scripture. And Rex knew it.As the boy limped off, something caught Rex's eye—a notebook on the ground.
Gabriel Sterling.
Rex picked it up and decided to return it.
But before he could, a loud crash echoed from a nearby classroom.Rex ran.
Inside, a mountain of a teen with black hair and fury in his eyes was pummeling another student.Rex recognized him: Kaito Tanaka, nicknamed Rage.He was once a rising boxing star—until a violent outburst ended his career.
Just as Rage was about to strike again, Rex stepped in. One move. One block. The teen was pinned.Silence fell.Both boys were sent to the principal.The rumors started instantly.
"That guy needs to be locked up.""He's a menace."
But Rex saw something else.Potential.
Rex had a feeling. Rage didn't need containment—he needed control.
Later, he finally returned Gabriel's notebook.The classroom was half-empty. Most students were likely out back, drinking, smoking, or worse.The principal turned a blind eye—unless it was about relationships. That scar still lingered. A scandal years ago with a pregnant student and a lying teacher nearly brought the whole school down.
Still, Rex found Gabriel, nose deep in his biology book."Here," Rex said, handing him the notebook.
"Thank you, sir!" Gabriel smiled again.
"No need." Rex nodded and left—only to catch a cold, lingering stare from a student in the back.
Rex shrugged it off.Another lost soul.
Back in the teacher's office, the principal was yelling. Minutes later, Kai and Ren walked out—twins. Identical. Dangerous. Brilliant.They caused trouble daily… but they topped the school academically.Their only rivals were each other.
Just as Rex settled down, a sleek black limo pulled up outside the school.A boy stepped out—flanked by bodyguards.
Rex knew that crest.A Himel.One of the most powerful families in the country.
They met with the principal behind closed doors. No one knew why.
By the end of the day, Rex didn't ask. He just left.He caught a bus—not home, but to Larry's Glass, the pub that dulled his nights.
He took his usual seat at the counter.Quiet. Isolated. Numb.
But tonight, something changed.A man entered. Rex didn't look up. But he felt the brush of movement.The man slipped something into Rex's bag.
A letter.
He didn't read it until he got home.
After a shower and a sigh, he spotted it—crumpled on the kitchen floor. He opened it.
An invitation.The Scrapyard Circuit.An underground football league.No rules. No mercy. No oversight.
Rex scoffed.He knew that name. It was the last place he'd ever go.It was where the broken played.Criminals. Scars. Scum.
He tossed the letter aside.
The next morning, Rex was at school early.Why?Because today… he had a full class load. And for some reason, he didn't want to disappoint.
Same gym. Same trash.Bottles. Cigarettes. Condoms.He cleaned it all up—again.
Class after class came and went. Theory, training, drills.By the end, he was exhausted.
As he packed up, the principal summoned him.
In her office, no words were spoken.Just a letter.
Rex opened it.
His eyes widened.The words felt like chains snapping shut.
"Assemble a soccer team… or else."