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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: A Forgotten Name

The floodlights hummed above, cutting sharp beams through the mist that clung to the evening air. Beneath them, the pitch glistened, damp from a drizzle that had passed an hour earlier, its emerald surface now slick and alive with the smell of wet grass. The stadium wasn't grand—its concrete stands were chipped, the paint fading, and only a few thousand fans filled the seats. But for a boy sitting hunched at the edge of the bench, it felt heavier than any coliseum.

Adrian Silva tugged at his loose jersey, the number 27 clinging damply to his back. His hair, black and damp with sweat despite not having played a single minute, clung stubbornly to his forehead. He could hear the jeers from the home crowd—small, sharp daggers that pierced deeper than the evening chill.

"Waste of a roster spot!"

"Coach, don't bother sending him in!"

"He couldn't score in an empty net!"

Adrian clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding against the bile of frustration rising in his throat. He tried to steady his breathing, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. Every insult felt etched across his skin, burning, impossible to ignore.

He raised his head, eyes lifting toward the pitch. The game was alive with motion—his teammates running, sliding, battling for every ball. The crowd roared when a strike narrowly missed the post. The sound thundered through the stadium, a storm of energy Adrian was excluded from, chained to the silence of the bench.

His fingers curled tightly around the hem of his shorts. A part of him wanted to scream, to leap into the chaos of the field and prove them wrong, but another part larger, heavier—reminded him of the truth: he was nothing more than a shadow, a forgotten name on the squad list, destined to vanish into football's gutters.

A gust of night wind swept through, carrying the mingled scents of rain, sweat, and the faint tang of beer from the stands. Adrian inhaled deeply, his gaze drifting skyward.

Above the haze, the floodlights blazed down like merciless suns, their glow haloing the edges of his face. His lips parted, and for a moment, his eyes softened—not with despair, but with a quiet, stubborn fire.

He imagined himself out there, beneath the world's eyes. Standing not in this crumbling stadium, but on the pristine grass of Old Trafford, Camp Nou, the Bernabéu. He could almost hear the chants, see himself raising his arms in triumph.

His heart thudded harder, almost painfully.

And then—

[System Initialization Complete.]

[Football System Activated.]

The voice wasn't from the crowd. It wasn't from the pitch. It was inside his head, crisp and mechanical, yet resonant, as though it had been waiting there for years.

Adrian's breath caught in his throat. His vision flickered, the stadium dimming for a fraction of a second before a faint, translucent screen shimmered before his eyes.

Lines of text burned into existence:

Name: Adrian Silva

Club: União Barreirense (Second Division, Portugal)

Position: Forward

Overall Rating: 43

Attributes:

– Speed: 49

– Stamina: 45

– Dribbling: 42

– Passing: 40

– Shooting: 44

– Mentality: 38

> Quest Unlocked: Score one goal in an official match. Reward: +5 Shooting, Skill Card (Basic Finishing).

The bench, the crowd, the cold night—everything faded, leaving only the glowing screen and the pounding rhythm of his heart. Adrian stared, wide-eyed, his lips parting in disbelief.

And then, slowly, his face shifted. The boy who had sat defeated in silence now wore an expression unlike any he'd ever worn before—his brows drawn down, eyes ignited, the corners of his mouth tugging not into a smile, but something sharper.

Determination.

The storm of the match still raged on the field, but Adrian knew: from this night forward, his game his life would never be the same.

---

The scoreboard glared in cruel red:

Union Barreirense 0 – 2 Leixões SC

Seventy-eight minutes played.

The home crowd's patience was wearing thin. Booing echoed through the modest stadium, mixing with the rattling of plastic seats and the hoarse shouts of frustrated supporters. The drizzle had returned, thin streaks of rain sliding down from the night sky, dotting the pitch with glimmers of silver.

Adrian sat stiffly on the bench, knuckles white where they gripped the wood. His chest was still trembling from the shock of the screen he had seen, the words etched clearly in his mind: Quest: Score one goal in an official match.

The world around him felt sharper now—sounds clearer, lights brighter, as if the very air itself had thickened with meaning. Every breath burned against his lungs like fire.

On the touchline, Coach Mendes paced with a scowl carved deep into his weathered face. His team was being suffocated, their passes sloppy, their energy drained. One forward clutched his thigh, grimacing after yet another failed sprint.

"Damn it…" Mendes cursed under his breath. His eyes swept the bench, a mixture of frustration and desperation in his gaze. They finally landed on Adrian.

The boy's heart stopped.

"Silva," Mendes barked, his voice sharp as steel. "Warm up."

For a moment, Adrian froze. Me?

The sneer from his teammates confirmed it.

"Coach must've lost it…" one muttered.

"Dead weight's going to save us?" another scoffed.

Adrian ignored them. His chest tightened, but the fire from earlier roared louder. He stripped off his warm-up jacket, rain splattering against his damp hair as he jogged toward the touchline. Every step felt heavy, yet beneath it all, the faint shimmer of the System window hovered at the edge of his vision, silent but waiting.

When the substitution board went up, a few laughs rippled from the stands. "Who's that kid?" someone shouted. "Game's already lost!"

Adrian clenched his fists. He wasn't deaf. He heard every word, every doubt, every insult. But as he crossed the white line and his boots sank into the slick grass, something changed.

The noise of the crowd dulled, swallowed by the pounding of his heartbeat. The cold drizzle felt less like rain and more like baptism, washing the weight of his failures away.

"Forward, number twenty-seven, Silva," the announcer's voice crackled over the speakers, almost uncertain.

The match resumed. The ball zipped past him at first, his teammates barely acknowledging his presence. Adrian pressed, hungry, his legs moving faster than he remembered.

And then, in the 84th minute, it came.

A miscontrolled pass, skidding loose on the wet surface. The defender slipped trying to recover it, and suddenly the ball was rolling into open space. Adrian's instincts screamed.

He burst forward.

The System flickered in his vision:

[Opportunity Detected: Chance on Goal.]

[Temporary Buff: +10 Speed for 10 seconds.]

His legs responded as though lightning coursed through them. He sprinted, water splashing beneath each step, overtaking the stumbling defender. Gasps erupted from the crowd as the "benchwarmer" outran them.

The goalkeeper surged forward, arms wide, the roar of the crowd rising like a storm.

Adrian's breath hitched, the world narrowing to the spinning ball and the looming figure ahead.

For a heartbeat, fear threatened to seize him.

Then the screen flashed again:

Quest Reminder: Score one goal in an official match.

Adrian swung.

His boot struck the ball with a wet crack, sending it arcing high over the keeper's shoulder. Time seemed to slow as the stadium held its breath. The ball dipped—beautiful, cruel before slamming into the back of the net.

GOAL.

For a second, silence. Then the stadium erupted—shock, disbelief, raw noise bursting like thunder.

Adrian stood frozen, chest heaving, rain dripping from his chin as his teammates stared at him, wide-eyed. His face once etched with quiet shame was now alive, eyes burning with defiance, lips parted in the faintest shadow of a smile.

The System chimed softly in his mind:

Quest Complete.

Reward: +5 Shooting. Skill Card Unlocked: [Basic Finishing].

Adrian tilted his head toward the roaring stands, their doubt now drowned in chaos, and whispered to himself through the storm

"This… is only the beginning."

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