The FC Utrecht U-18 training field was lightly misted that morning. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, but all the players were already lined up—except for one man who arrived first, as usual: Richard. The boy was squatting, tying his shoes, his breath rising like fine smoke in the cold Dutch air.
"Morning, Richard," Coach Bram greeted, patting him on the shoulder.
"Morning, Coach," I replied.
Coach Bram smiled slightly. "De Vries is going to be tough today. Are you ready?"
I took a deep breath. "Always ready."
My inner system seemed to vibrate.
> [System: Intense training begins. Mission Day 2: Withstand De Vries' Tactical Test & Counter Rival Pressure.]
I gently tapped my left chest. "Let's begin."
---
Tactical Simulation Begins
De Vries arrived promptly at 7 a.m. He was tall, cool, and composed—like a war general ready to assess his troops.
"Everyone assemble!" he shouted.
We crowded around the head coach. Some players were still breathing heavily from warming up.
"Today we're focusing on vertical progression, quick transitions, and one-on-one duels in the half-spaces," De Vries explained. "And there's one more thing…"
His sharp eyes landed squarely on me.
"…I want to see if Richard really deserves to be your second starter."
Several players exchanged glances, but the most striking was Narten, the offensive midfielder who had hated me from the start. He grinned, clearly waiting for his chance to stomp me alive.
"First simulation pairing," De Vries continued, "Richard vs. Narten. One-on-one. Three sets. The winner will be determined by successfully penetrating the attacking zone."
The overcast sky grew heavier.
---
Round 1 – Duel Begins
I stood at the center line. Narten faced me directly. He hissed softly.
"You think a great debut makes you special? Lots of them have had great debuts. But staying here? That's what matters."
I didn't reply. Why? Energy had to be conserved.
De Vries' whistle blew.
I immediately moved. The ball was at my feet, heading right, then flicking to the left. Narten followed closely, but his timing was half a second off. I cut inside—then spun, avoiding the tackle.
"Nice move, Richard!" shouted a voice from behind—Sora, one of the wingers.
I closed the remaining 15 meters.
Shoot.
THUD!
The ball hit the mini-net target.
De Vries noted emotionlessly. "1-0 to Richard."
Narten cursed under his breath.
---
Half 2 – Narten's Pressure Increases
It was Narten's turn to start. He whipped the ball at me, deliberately harder than necessary.
I blocked it with my chest, the ball bouncing a little high—and Narten immediately pressed aggressively.
Very aggressive.
His elbow hit my arm, but I was still standing. He grabbed the ball, spun it, and then stabbed quickly. I followed, trying to cut off the line.
But he was already in front.
He shot, hard.
CRACK!
The ball went in.
"1-1," De Vries said flatly.
Narten looked at me with a contemptuous smile. "It's not that easy, newcomer."
I clenched my fists.
---
Round 3 – The Decisive Round
Now the pressure was palpable. The other players surrounded, silent, watching. Even Bram stood with his arms folded, waiting.
De Vries said, "The winner of the third round will be my priority for a starting spot this weekend."
My breath held for a moment.
This wasn't just a training exercise. This was an assessment.
The whistle blew.
I immediately dropped my shoulder, as if about to move left—then accelerated fully to the right! Narten chased, but too late. I dribbled once, twice, into the half-space.
20 meters.
15 meters.
But Narten made a sliding tackle from the side.
I jumped!
His foot nearly hooked my ankle. I landed a little unsteadily, but the ball was still under control.
And as he rose—I shot.
The ball curved beautifully.
SWISH!
It went straight into the top corner of the net.
From the sidelines, there were a few small shouts.
De Vries nodded slightly. "Point for Richard. 2-1."
Narten's face flushed. His jaw clenched.
He leaned in, whispering softly, "Don't get too excited. The real game is more brutal."
I stared back. "I'm ready."
---
Team Tactical Drill – De Vries' Pressure Levels Up
After the intense duel, the drill moved into an 11v11 tactical simulation. De Vries emphasized quick transitions—and treated me like a live test.
"Richard! Too slow to turn back!"
"Richard! Focus on the half-space, not the flank!"
"Richard! You're the player I'm targeting today, know that!"
I was sweating profusely. My legs were getting heavy.
But every time I nearly faltered…
> [Active System: Stamina Booster Lv.1 → Reduces fatigue by 10%]
My breathing stabilized. My movements regained their lightness.
Meanwhile, Narten repeatedly tried to interrupt my movements, even bumping into my shoulder.
"Oops," he said sarcastically.
"Enough," De Vries snapped. "Focus on the game, not your ego."
Narten swallowed his anger, but it was clear he hated me even more.
---
Climax: De Vries Stops Practice
In the final minute of the simulation, the ball came to my feet. I received it, turned, and sent a through pass to Sora, who was running diagonally.
Sora shot—and scored.
A sharp whistle sounded.
De Vries stepped forward. Everyone held their breath.
"Training's over."
He looked around the team, then stopped right in front of Narten and me.
"You two dominated the intensity of today's training. Good… but also dangerous."
Narten lifted his chin, as if waiting for praise.
But De Vries stared at me longer.
"Richard. Today's performance was solid. Your movement has matured. Your passing vision has improved. You're starting to understand the tempo of the Dutch league."
I swallowed. My heart was pounding.
Then De Vries turned to Narten.
"And you—you're talented. But if you keep wasting energy on your ego, you'll never reach the professional level."
Narten's face fell. The silence felt like ice.
The head coach continued, his voice firm yet cold.
"I'll assess again tomorrow, but for now… Richard is one step ahead."
A low murmur escaped from some of the players.
Narten clenched his fists, his eyes burning with anger.
---
Tension Breaks in the Hallway
After training, I walked toward the locker room. My body was tired, but my heart was satisfied.
Then a voice rang out from behind.
"Hey, newcomer."
I turned.
Narten was leaning against the wall, his face dark.
"Don't even think the starting spot will fall into your hands so easily. I'll make you regret coming to this club."
I stared at him undaunted. "If you want to fight, fight on the pitch. Not here."
He leaned closer, inches from my face.
"I'll destroy you in tomorrow's tactics match. Remember that."
I met his gaze. "We'll see."
Narten smiled faintly—a smile full of ill intent.
Then he left, leaving a cold air pressing down on my chest.
---
System Beep
As I leaned against the wall, trying to calm myself…
> [System: Rivalry Set.]
[Registered Rival: Narten Valken. Rival Pressure Level: High.]
[Bonus Mission: Defeat Narten in Tomorrow's Tactics Exam.]
I let out a long sigh.
"Alright, system. Let's get this over with."