The Utrecht Junior Arena felt louder than usual. Even though this was only a U-18 match, the small stands beside the field were filled with more people than during my debut last week. There were a few local reporters, some amateur scouts, and even some young supporters waving Utrecht scarves.
Maybe the rumor about "the Indonesian newcomer who scored on his debut" had already spread around.
I took a deep breath at the touchline. My legs trembled—not from fear, but from adrenaline.
"Richard."
Coach De Vries patted my shoulder. His gaze was sharp, though slightly less rigid than usual.
"This is your chance. Prove that your debut goal wasn't luck."
I nodded. "Yes, Coach."
From the corner of my eye, I saw Narten standing a few meters away. His face was blank, but his eyes were cold—saying, I'll crush you today.
Coach Bram approached with his clipboard.
"Your main focus: fast transitions. Once you get the ball, drive forward. Don't hold it too long."
"Understood."
The system activated.
> [System Active: Match Day Boost Lv.1]
Speed +5%, Focus +3%, Stamina +5% for the first half.
I tightened my boots.
"Alright. Let's go."
---
Kick-Off: Pressure From the First Second
The whistle blew.
Barely 10 seconds passed and our opponents—ADO Den Haag U-18—were already pressing hard. They played aggressively, very different from last week's team. Their number 8 slammed into me the moment I received the first pass.
I stumbled a bit.
"Oi! Watch it!" Sora yelled from the right flank.
The opponent just shrugged as if he didn't care.
I steadied my breath.
Alright. If you want to play rough, I'll answer rough.
De Vries shouted from the sideline,
"Richard! Use that half-turn again!"
I nodded, even if he probably couldn't hear me.
---
Minute 12 – Counter Attack
Our left-back won the ball and immediately passed it to me.
Three players rushed in to press me.
I stopped the ball with the back of my foot, then—
Half-turn.
A clean spin using the hip movements I'd trained countless times. One defender slid too far left, the other reacted too late. I was already free.
The small stadium erupted.
"Richard! Right side!"
Sora raised his hand, calling for the ball.
With a quick first touch, I sent a low through-pass.
Sora took it—ran—tapped it forward—
AND SHOT.
GOOOAL!
1–0 for Utrecht U-18.
Sora hugged me. "Bro! Your passing is getting insane! Coach Bram's definitely proud!"
I just chuckled.
At the sideline, De Vries nodded. His expression was unreadable—but I could see the hint of satisfaction.
Narten?
He just stood there, jaw clenched, eyes burning.
---
Minute 27 – Heated Duel With Narten
During our build-up, Narten—who should've passed the ball to the right—held the ball.
Too long.
Way too long.
He was pressed, lost the ball, and the opponents countered. I spun around and sprinted back.
"Narten! Clear the ball!" our center-back yelled.
Too late. Their winger entered a dangerous zone.
I chased him down—slid—
BRAK!
Ball out. Clean tackle.
But Narten marched toward me afterward.
"Don't act like a hero, newcomer," he hissed.
I stared back coldly. "If you passed faster, we wouldn't be in trouble."
His face tightened. "Watch your mouth."
The referee blew the whistle for the throw-in, but the tension between us was already obvious to everyone.
---
Minute 39 – My Golden Chance
Sora stole the ball again and launched a long through-pass. I cut through the Den Haag backline.
Just me and the keeper.
One more touch.
One more step.
I lifted my foot—
But a defender tackled me from behind. Hard. Brutal.
I tumbled, rolling across the ground.
The small stadium buzzed with angry shouts.
The referee blew his whistle—foul.
But no card.
"Are you kidding me?!" our captain yelled.
I stood up with a slight limp. My knee stung, but still worked.
> [System: Minor Injury Detected → Recovery Speed +10% for the rest of the match.]
I clenched my jaw. "I can continue."
De Vries nodded from afar.
His eye for reading players never failed—he knew I wasn't lying.
---
Second Half – Rising Intensity
The second half began with Den Haag pressing even harder. My legs were getting heavier, but the system kept my stamina from dropping too fast.
De Vries called out,
"Richard! Drift wider to the right! Look for the diagonal gap!"
"Yes, Coach!"
As I shifted my positioning, Narten looked at me with an unreadable expression. Maybe jealousy—maybe anger that the coach gave me more instructions.
Or maybe he hated the spotlight shifting away from him.
---
Minute 68 – The Long-Awaited Second Goal
Our defensive midfielder won the ball and passed it to me.
I used a quick touch to fake out their number 6.
A one-two with Sora.
I cut inside.
The keeper came forward.
But I didn't shoot immediately.
I chipped the ball—light, precise, elegant.
It floated…
And dropped into the net.
GOOOAAALLLL!
2–0.
The small stand roared, some kids screaming my name.
I couldn't hold back a smile. This felt like a dream slowly becoming real.
Coach Bram gave me a thumbs-up.
De Vries? He simply nodded… which, for him, was the highest form of praise.
Narten?
He didn't celebrate. His expression was shaken—as if the goal stabbed deep into his pride.
---
Minute 87 – A Small Drama
During a possession play, I bounced a short pass to Narten. Instead of continuing the build-up, he held the ball, then passed it way too far—straight out of bounds.
Sora groaned. "Bro, come on. Focus!"
Narten didn't answer. He just stared at the ground.
I didn't say anything, but deep down—
He wasn't angry at me.
He was angry at himself.
---
Full Time: A Small Cheer
The final whistle blew.
FC Utrecht U-18 won 2–0.
One goal. One assist.
A complete performance.
Some kids in the stands rushed to the metal barrier, calling my name.
"Richard! Richard!"
I jogged over and gave them some high-fives.
But… behind them stood a boy who didn't shout.
A blond kid, innocent face, but eyes sharp and focused.
Around 10 years old.
He didn't cheer. He observed.
Unblinking.
As if evaluating me.
When I looked back at him, he gave a small smile—not over the top, not childish. More like… acknowledgment.
He spoke softly, almost only audible to me:
"You're really good, brother. My name is Ivar Janner. Someday… I want to play on the same team as you."
I froze for a second.
That name—somehow—felt important. Heavy.
Sora called out, "Richard! Photo time!"
I turned back toward the stands.
But Ivar was already gone.
Only his small silhouette lingered in the hallway.
The system chimed.
> [System: "Future Link" Activated.]
Future Teammate Detected.
Name: Ivar Janner
Potential: A+
Bond: Future National Team Teammate – Inactive.
I smiled quietly.
"Alright, Ivar. If fate really puts us together in the national team someday… I'll be ready."