The locker room was heavy with silence at halftime. Sweat dripped, lungs still heaving, but no one dared speak after Coach Darius's words.
Arthur sat at the far end of the bench, bouncing his knee, every muscle in his body taut. He wasn't even playing, yet his shirt clung to him as if he'd run the first forty-five minutes himself.
He had watched every second—their defensive gaps, the rival midfield's arrogance, the reckless overlapping fullbacks. His mind was buzzing with observations, but they were just thoughts unless he stepped onto the pitch.
Please, Coach. Give me a chance.
The second half kicked off with the same frantic energy as the first. Hayes pressed higher now, trying to claw their way back. Marcus almost slipped a through ball past the defense in the 51st minute, but Adrian was a step too slow.
Arthur leaned forward on the bench, fists clenched. That was the space. If Adrian had just curved his run…
At the 58th minute, disaster nearly struck again. Ironclad striker broke through one-on-one with Jordan, but Jordan dove low, deflecting the ball with the tips of his gloves. The stadium gasped, then erupted in noise.
Darius turned toward the bench. His eyes landed on Arthur.
"Hayes. Warm up."
Arthur's heart stopped. For a split second, his legs refused to move. Then adrenaline kicked in, and he leapt to his feet, jogging down the sideline. The crowd murmured—some cheering encouragement, others jeering mockingly.
"Hayes?" Cloris muttered on the field when he noticed. His expression twisted. "Really?"
Marcus shot Arthur a quick grin, eyes sparkling. "About time."
At the 60th minute, the substitution board lit up.
Lucas OFF – Arthur ON.
The moment Arthur's boots touched the grass, a shiver went through him. The noise of the crowd blurred, the field stretched wider than ever, and every sense sharpened.
The system whispered faintly in his mind:
Ding!
[Debut Match: Pressure detected.][Composure -2.0][Vision +1.0 (Heightened focus).]
Arthur swallowed hard. His legs felt lighter than air, but his chest was a furnace.
His first touch came almost immediately. Marcus dropped deep, shielding the ball from a ironclad midfielder before rolling it Arthur's way.
Arthur's heart pounded as the ball spun toward him. He trapped it with his right foot—sloppy, too heavy. The ball rolled a yard too far.
ironclad midfielder lunged.
Arthur barely managed to poke it sideways to Darren before being dispossessed.
"Careful!" Darren barked, irritation flashing in his eyes before returning the ball forward.
Arthur's face burned. His first touch in his debut had nearly cost possession. The jeers from the rival supporters stung his ears.
Calm down. Just play simple. One ball at a time.
For the next few minutes, Arthur kept it safe—receiving short passes, recycling them quickly. Nothing risky, nothing fancy. His heart still hammered, but slowly his breathing evened out.
In the 68th minute, Marcus carried the ball forward, three defenders closing in. Arthur drifted into space, raising his hand slightly.
Marcus glanced, then slid the ball toward him.
Arthur turned sharply, his system flickering:
Ding!
[Opponent Defensive Line: Overcommitted]
Through the blur of bodies, Arthur saw it—a channel opening on the right flank. Without thinking, he angled a perfectly weighted pass into the gap.
Adrian burst forward, chasing the ball.
The crowd roared as Adrian reached it first, cutting into the box. He shot—low, near post.
The keeper parried it away, barely.
"Unlucky!" Marcus shouted, clapping his hands.
Arthur's chest swelled with a flicker of pride. His first real contribution had nearly created an equalizer.
But ironclad weren't idle. In the 73rd minute, Hayes lost the ball deep, and the opponents countered viciously. Arthur sprinted back, lungs burning. His stamina bar—the one the system faintly displayed—was already dipping.
Ironclad winger cut inside. Arthur slid in desperately, mistiming it by a fraction. The winger skipped past him easily, sending a cross into the box.
Only Jordan's reflexes kept the ball out of the net.
Arthur lay on the grass for a heartbeat, chest heaving, shame burning his ears. Too slow. Too weak.
But then Marcus's voice cut through. "Up, Arthur! Come on—we need you!"
Arthur pushed to his feet, jaw clenched.
By the 80th minute, Hayes finally found their rhythm. Ironclad were tiring, their earlier press not as sharp. Darius barked instructions from the sideline, urging patience.
Arthur hovered between midfield and attack, nerves giving way to instinct. When Darren fed him the ball just outside the box, he felt time slow.
One of Ironclad defender lunged.
Arthur feinted left, nudged right—not with pace, but with timing. The defender stumbled, surprised.
Arthur slid the ball through a narrow gap toward Adrian.
Adrian fired—blocked.
The rebound fell loose.
Marcus pounced, smashing it toward goal.
GOAL!
The stadium erupted as the net rippled. Hayes players swarmed Marcus in celebration.
Arthur stood frozen for a moment, chest heaving, until Marcus grabbed him in a bear hug. "That pass was perfect!"
Arthur's face flushed, a smile breaking despite himself.
The scoreboard read 1–1. Hayes were back.
The final ten minutes were chaos—Hayes pressing for a winner, Ironclad clawing back. Arthur's legs felt like lead, each sprint draining him further. He misplaced two passes, drew groans from the crowd, and nearly collapsed after chasing down a counterattack.
But he didn't stop. Even as his stamina hit rock bottom, even as his lungs screamed, he kept running.
When the final whistle blew, the score was still 1–1.
Not a win. But not a loss.
Arthur bent over, hands on his knees, chest burning. His debut had been messy, uneven, full of mistakes—but also full of moments.
The system flickered faintly as he limped toward the tunnel:
[Debut Match Completed]Match Rating: 6.3/10+ Passing +2.0+ Vision +1.5+ Stamina +0.5Special Note: Your persistence has impressed the system. Continue performing in official matches to unlock hidden functions.]
Arthur exhaled, a tired grin tugging at his lips.
This was only the beginning.