A few days had passed. News of John's heroic performance flooded sports channels. His saves were going viral on social media, and hashtags bearing his name united an entire country. But fame didn't change the rhythm of training. The locker room remained the same—full of tension, sweat, and silent rivalry.
Coach Coyer scheduled a special closed-door training session. No media. No fans. Just the players—and purpose. He needed to know how prepared the team was for the big matches, especially now that national team scouts had begun to take notice.
One by one, the players entered the stadium. Raul gave John a brief nod. Marcos ignored them both, silently tying the laces of his cleats. The others acted as usual, but there was a subtle tension in the air—like a silent war had begun.
Coyer gathered them in the center of the pitch.
"Starting today, you're not playing against each other," he said. "You're playing against your shadows—your doubts, ambitions, and fears. And in that battle, each of you has your own truth."
They began intense training. The cold air steamed with effort. John dove through mud, leapt up again, left the pitch soaked—but never complained. There was something in his eyes—deeper than a hunger for victory.
From a corner of the field, Marcos watched him. When the others had returned to the locker room, he approached John, who was still cleaning his gloves.
"You're starting to believe it, aren't you?" Marcos whispered.
John looked up.
"Believe what?"
"That you're irreplaceable. But let me warn you—one day, when everyone's dazzled by your glory, I'll be the one who doesn't believe in you. And on that day, I'll be ready—to take your place."
John stared at him for a long moment.
"If that gives you strength—go ahead. But I didn't take my place; it was entrusted to me. And I'll keep it—until the last moment."
Marcos walked away without another word.
---
On the Threshold of the National Team
Two days later, John sat in Coach Coyer's office. Coyer took out an envelope and placed it on the table.
"This is from them. The national team. They're inviting you to the preliminary camp. Two weeks—in the North. It'll be serious training."
John opened the envelope. Inside—a formal invitation, a badge, and dates. His name was written in bold: VERMOG, JOHN ALLEN.
"And the team?" John asked.
"We'll play two matches without you. It'll be tough. But this is your path, John. If you don't take it now, you'll regret it later."
John sat in silence. Something inside him hesitated. But then he remembered Daniel's letter. His mother's eyes watching from the screens in Sornarrel. And he knew—this was their journey too.
"I'll go," he said.
Coyer smirked.
"But don't forget—glory is temporary. Humanity is permanent."
---
Last Conversation with His Mother
Before heading to camp, he called home.
"Mom, I'm going to the national team."
There was a brief silence.
"I already knew. Your eyes are the same as your father's when he left for the war. But don't forget—we love you not for your fame, but for your truth."
John's voice softened.
"I haven't changed, Mom. I've just grown."
His mother chuckled.
"That's the danger, dear. When you grow up, you forget how to see the world through a child's eyes."
John promised—he wouldn't forget.
---
At the Camp
The weather in the North was cold, but the training was on fire. The national team players didn't know each other, but all of them were there to prove they belonged. From the very beginning, John stood out with his smart positioning, fast reactions, and above all—his calm.
Coach Ferno, who had led the national team for years, approached him one day.
"You're more than average, Vermog. But I want to see you… broken. I want to see what you do when everything falls apart. Say—when you concede a goal, or when a teammate blames you for his own mistake."
John took a deep breath.
"I'm used to loss, sir. I broke long before I met you. And that's why I'm still standing."
The coach nodded.
"Good. We'll see."
---
Return to Suonsi
When camp ended, John was met with another surprise.
Suonsi had played two matches without him. They had lost the first. In the second—they conceded a last-minute goal due to Marcos's mistake.
He returned to the locker room and sensed something had shifted. Some greeted him with smiles. But Raul remained quiet. And Marcos—cold as ever.
When John approached him, Marcos said:
"Congrats on the national call-up. But when the team loses without you, that's your failure too."
John didn't smile.
"No. That's my responsibility. And that's exactly why I've come back."
---
The Breath of the Epilogue
That evening, John looked out over the city from above. Alvenport was quiet, but he knew—within that silence was belief. He sat down and opened Daniel's letter again. Read it once, twice, then wrote his reply.
"Dear Daniel, when you stand at the gates of your school, remember—I'm not the one who made you brave. It was your own heart. I just showed you it was possible. Now it's your turn—to stand tall, even when everyone doubts you. I believe in you. — John V."
He sealed the letter and looked up at the starry sky.
Fame had begun to shine—but his feet were still planted firmly on the ground.