Lumina Arena, two days later
The stadium was empty. Echoes of cheers from the last match had long faded into the concrete silence. John Vermog stood alone at the center of the pitch—not to train, but to think.
Two days had passed since the historic victory, yet the sudden fame weighed heavier than the years of struggle that preceded it. The media buzzed. Whispers stirred within the team. The coach was colder now, less expressive.
From the edge of the field approached Raul Desmond—the backup goalkeeper. Tall, seasoned, with a subtle sting in his gaze.
"You played well, Vermog," Raul said, stopping just close enough. "But don't let one game fool you into thinking you've earned a spot I've held for five years."
John offered a faint smile.
"I didn't come to take anything, Raul. I came to deserve it."
Raul stared for a moment, then walked away—his steps precise, leaving behind a tension that lingered in the air.
---
In the coach's office
Coach Andreas Koer sat behind his desk, eyes fixed on the tactical board. John stepped in quietly.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Sit."
A pause. Then the coach spoke without looking at him.
"You played excellently, John. But standing at the peak of success… that's where a man becomes alone. Now you have to decide—will you save the team, or save yourself?"
John blinked, confused.
"Do I not meet the standard?"
"You do. But Raul's pressing to return. The next match is critical. There will be a choice. And I'll be watching—to see who fights not just on the pitch, but within this team."
---
The Pressure Mounts
The next morning, John opened his phone to find his face splashed across major sports outlets. One headline stood out:
"Is Vermog's Fame Fleeting? Swans Consider Returning to Desmond."
Social media was divided. Some hailed him as the next big thing. Others questioned his consistency.
One comment burned into his mind:
"You play well, but you're not one of us. The city will swallow you, country boy."
He turned off the phone.
That same morning, a sharp knock echoed in the training hall. In stepped a new figure—black training gear, dark glasses, and a poised presence.
His name was Marcos Elara. Trial period. Fresh from international clubs. Already whispered about as the "next big thing."
He walked over and extended a hand.
"John Vermog, right? Pleasure. You're already pushing me to bring my best."
John shook it, cautiously.
"Competition is healthy. But this isn't a game for us. It's responsibility."
Marcos smiled.
"That's why I'm watching you closely. Not just your play… your heart. The city loves building heroes—only to forget them. Stay sharp."
They parted ways with no further words. But John knew—this wasn't just rivalry. This was a test of identity.
---
Late-Night Training
John returned to the field that night, again alone. The floodlights were dimmed, half-glowing.
Behind the net stood David.
"What are you doing here?" John asked.
"I knew you'd come," David replied. "You never stay down for long. I remember that look in your eyes. You wore it the first time you trained with just mud and hope."
John chuckled, then looked up at the vast night sky.
"You ever wonder what comes after you win? I won one game—and now the real storm begins."
David rolled the ball forward.
"Then prove you belong. Let's train. Show me why you're worth standing in the storm."
They trained deep into the night. Only the sound of the ball, the rustle of movement, and the breath of persistence filled the space. Sweat cleared the pressure. John became himself again.
---
Match Eve
Coach Koer posted the lineup.
Starting Goalkeeper: John Vermog.
Whispers followed. Some surprised. Some skeptical. But anticipation stirred.
Raul said nothing. Just a long look—part insulted, part respectful.
Marcos approached John before kickoff.
"Today's your day. But don't forget—people watch hardest when you're at the top. And when you stumble, they'll forget your victory first."
John looked him in the eye.
"I don't fear being forgotten. I fear going silent when there are still people who believe."
---
The Match: Swans vs. Luseon
The crowd roared. The Swans faced Luseon FC—a dangerous, physical team. But this time, John wasn't playing to prove he deserved the spot.
He was playing to prove that faith can last longer than fame.
10th minute: A strike from 20 meters. John dived, snatching the ball at the lower corner.
27th minute: A mispass from his own defender. The opponent ran through, one-on-one. John didn't wait—charged out, covered the angle, stopped the shot cold.
71st minute: A brutal header aimed at the inside post. John flew. Fingertips grazed it—redirected just enough. Off the post. Cleared.
The stadium stood up. Roared.
In the final minutes, Coach Koer sprinted to the sideline, arms raised.
Victory. 1–0. Once again, thanks to John Vermog's fearless wall.
---
Post-Match
He joined the team in a quiet huddle. Said only one line:
"The next match is a new story. And we have many more to tell."
---
The Headlines Shifted Again
"Vermog: Unbreakable"
"The Swans' Heart Beats in Goal"
"His Name Will Echo for Years"
Back in Sonarel, David sat watching the replay. A younger boy beside him asked:
"That's John Vermog, right?"
David smiled, gaze fixed on the screen.
"Yes. But this… this is still just the beginning."