Camilo pushed the door open and walked into his apartment. The air inside was still. Really quiet.
He let out a small breath and threw his hospital wristband onto the table. Three weeks had passed, but somehow it felt like he'd just left the place yesterday.
He dropped his small duffel bag next to the couch, kicked off his shoes, and opened the fridge. Inside were some leftovers — something that looked like half a plate of rice and chicken. He pulled it out, stuck it in the microwave, and sat down to eat without saying a word.
That's when he saw it again, the screen.
Small, kind of faint, and glowing blue — just floating near the edge of where he could see. It wasn't bright enough to block what he was looking at, but it was always there, quietly blinking. Like some kind of ghost reflection that wouldn't go away no matter what.
[System Online]
[User: Camilo Mendez]
It hadn't gone away since he woke up in the hospital. Even when he blinked or looked in a different direction, it stayed there — like it was just part of the air around him now.
He stared at it for a few seconds, then let out a small laugh. "You've gotta be joking."
He picked up his fork and kept eating. One bite. Two bites. Three. He tried to ignore it. Really tried. But it just… stayed there, watching him, if that was even something it could do.
After he finished eating dinner, he washed the plate, dried his hands on a towel, and sat down on the couch. The blue screen followed wherever his eyes went.
Camilo frowned at it. "Okay… fine. Let's figure out what you are."
He leaned forward and tried to swipe at it like it was a phone screen. His fingers went straight through it like smoke.
He tried again. And again. Nothing happened.
"Come on, how am I supposed to use this thing…" he said under his breath.
He poked at the air a few more times, even tried waving his hand around. The screen didn't move at all. It didn't do anything. It just floated there, silent and still.
Then he muttered, mostly to himself, "What did Zidane call it again? The GOAT System?"
The second those words came out of his mouth, the screen changed completely. Lines of glowing text started appearing, scrolling really fast across the blue light.
[GOAT SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
[Welcome, Camilo Mendez]
[Analyzing Player Profile…]
Camilo's eyes went wide. "Wait, what—?"
The screen flickered and rearranged itself, showing something totally new — something that looked like a player card, just like the ones from FIFA or PES.
PLAYER: CAMILO MENDEZ
AGE: 19
POSITION: LW / AMF
DOMINANT FOOT: Right
WEAK FOOT: Left (Strong)
PHYSICAL STATS:
Speed: 74
Strength: 68
Acceleration: 77
Dribbling: 80
Passing: 75
Shooting: 72
[Skill Traits: Flair, Vision, Ball Control]
[Status: Rookie / Potential Rating: ???]
[Begin Journey →]
Camilo blinked at the words floating there. "This is… crazy."
He leaned in closer, looking carefully at the glowing numbers. "They even got my left foot stats right," he said quietly, shaking his head.
He tilted his head a bit, his eyes stopping on the last line.
[Begin Journey →]
He waited for a second, not sure what to do. Then he whispered, "Begin Journey."
The screen pulsed with light.
[Analyzing Player Metrics…]
[Generating First Path…]
[Finding Match Based on Style and Potential…]
Camilo stood up from the couch, staring as the blue light reflected off his apartment walls.
[Match Found: Ronaldinho Gaucho – Level 01]
[Training Path Unlocked: Jogo Bonito]
[Mission: Awaken Your Style]
Then, a small text box blinked open below everything else.
TASK:
Play with freedom. Express your style.
"True skill is not just control, it's joy." – R. Gaucho
Objective: Record your first solo training session.
Reward: Skill Boost [Flair +2]
Camilo let out a slow breath. "Record my… training?"
The screen flickered one more time.
[Tracking Active.]
[Good luck, Mendez.]
He stood there for a few seconds, the light shining in his eyes. Then he whispered to himself, "Alright. Let's see what this thing can do."
He walked over to his closet and pulled out a black hoodie and his training gear — just an old Neymar shirt he'd had for years, some shorts, and his cleats. He pulled the hoodie on over his head, tied the laces of his boots tight, and grabbed his small duffel bag again.
As he opened the apartment door to leave, the screen followed him for a second, then slowly faded away, like it somehow knew where he was going.
Outside, the night air felt cool on his face. The streets were quiet, just the distant sound of a few cars driving by and the soft buzzing of streetlights.
Camilo walked down the narrow path behind his apartment building with his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. After a few minutes of walking, he saw the glow of floodlights up ahead — a small public football pitch, tucked away behind a row of apartment buildings.
He smiled just a little bit. The field was pretty worn down, with patches of uneven grass and one net that was torn at the corner. It reminded him of back home in Brazil — playing barefoot on rough ground, chasing his dreams with just a cheap plastic ball.
He stepped onto the field, feeling how the turf gave a little under his boots.
The system suddenly blinked back to life, floating faintly in front of him again.
[Training Environment Detected]
[Session Tracking: Active]
Camilo blinked in surprise.
Before he could even take a step or touch anything, the field started lighting up — not with actual real lights, but with some kind of strange glow that only he could see. Shapes started forming across the grass. Shadows turning into solid figures. In just a few seconds, two defenders were standing in front of him. They looked real… but not quite. Like mist that had been shaped into people.
And right there in front of him on the ground was a ball. It was floating for just a split second before it dropped onto the grass with a soft thud.
Camilo took a step back, his eyes going really wide. "What the…?" he whispered.
He turned around quickly, halfway expecting someone nearby to scream or point at what was happening. But a couple walking past the fence outside just kept walking. They didn't even look his way once.
No one else could see any of this. It was just him. Only him.
The screen flickered again with new words.
[New Task Generated]
Dribble past the defenders.
Camilo looked back at the two ghostly players standing there waiting. He let out a small laugh, half nervous and half excited about what was happening. "Guess we're really doing this, huh?"
He dropped his bag on the ground by the goalpost and walked toward the ball.
Camilo took a deep breath and tapped the ball forward with his foot. The two defenders moved right away, just like real players would move.
He tried doing a step-over move, then faked going one way, and slid the ball past the first defender but the second one came in fast and cleanly took the ball away from him. The ball rolled off into the grass… and then just disappeared.
Like it had never even been there at all.
Before he could even figure out what just happened, another ball appeared right in front of him, floating for a second before dropping softly onto the ground.
He blinked. "Okay… that's pretty cool," he said quietly, shaking his head a little.
The system blinked now, showing new words.
[Skill Progress: +0.01% — Dribbling]
He squinted at the message floating there. "Are you serious right now?"
Still, he decided to try again.
The defenders showed up again as the screen pulsed softly in front of him. He moved left fast, spun to the right, and this time he got past one of them but then his right leg suddenly froze mid-step. A sharp memory flashed through his mind — the tackle from the game. The fall. The sound of the crowd fading away. His balance slipped, and the ball slipped away with it.
He stumbled forward, catching himself right before he hit the ground. His breathing was uneven now, coming out short and heavy.
[Task Failed]
Camilo stared at the faint letters until they slowly faded away. "Of course…" he said under his breath.
The ball appeared again in front of him, glowing faintly on the grass. He let out a long breath through his nose. "Alright. One more time."
He went for it again, moving faster this time. A quick shift of his body, a fake, a roll of the ball. But just as he slipped past the first defender, his right leg hesitated again. The memory hit him hard — the crunch of the tackle, the noise of the crowd, the pain shooting through his body. He froze completely. The ball disappeared again.
[Task Failed]
He clenched his jaw tight. "Again."
The ball showed up again. He tried one more time. Then again. And again after that.
Each time, the exact same thing happened. His body would move, but his mind wouldn't let him go all the way. The fear was sitting deep inside him, like his leg still remembered exactly what it felt like to get hurt that badly.
By the time he finally dropped down onto the grass near the halfway line, his shirt was completely soaked with sweat. His legs were burning and tired. The field was quiet again, just the soft hum of the city in the distance.
He stared up at the night sky, his chest rising and falling as he breathed hard, finally understanding how much that injury was still controlling him.
For a while, he just sat there on the grass, thinking. Thinking about the injury. About the voices he heard in that bright light. About what all those legendary players had told him.
Then slowly, without even realizing it was happening, his eyelids started to feel heavy. The field around him started to blur. The sounds faded away.
And before he knew it, he was asleep — right there on the pitch under the night sky.
---
To be continued...