The referee's whistle cut through the pitch like a blade.
Full-time.
The scoreboard blazed above the field: 2–1. Another loss.
Noah Kane stood frozen in midfield, still feeling the ball's weight on his foot. He could see it in his mind—the space that had opened up seconds earlier, the perfect run Leo Barnes made through the defensive line, the golden chance that had been screaming for one, single, daring pass.
But he didn't take it.
He never did.
Instead, he'd turned away, rolled the ball back to the center-back, and watched the moment vanish.
"Bloody hell, Kane!" someone from the stands shouted.
He didn't look up. He didn't need to. He could already feel the disappointment radiating from his own teammates.
The locker room was quiet, too quiet. Boots clattered against the floor, the smell of sweat and grass hanging in the air like guilt.
Coach David Harper stormed in, eyes burning holes into every player, but especially Noah.
"You. Out." Harper pointed toward the exit. The rest of the team shuffled away, glancing back at Noah with unreadable expressions.
Noah stayed seated on the bench, staring down at his untied boots.
"You've got the vision, Kane," Harper said, crouching so they were eye-level. "You see things most lads can't. But you know what you don't have?"
Noah swallowed. "What?"
"Courage."
The word hit harder than any tackle.
"You keep playing safe. You think passing backwards will keep you from making mistakes? That's not how football works." Harper's voice rose, frustration leaking through his professional tone. "Midfielders like you are supposed to control the game. Take risks. Change the match. Not hide behind your bloody defenders."
Noah's lips trembled, but no words came out.
Harper stood up with a shake of his head. "One day, kid, you'll have to decide if you're the one running the game, or just another ball boy."
Who Is Noah Kane?
Noah had always been the quiet one.
Born in London to a Korean mother and an English father, he had grown up between two cultures but under one philosophy: "Better to play safe than to be the one everyone blames."
That lesson came from his father, Daniel Kane, a man who had once dreamed of playing professional football. One mistake—one bad pass on national television—had ended that dream. Daniel never played again, and his advice became a mantra: Stay safe. Don't risk it. Don't get blamed.
Noah followed it religiously. In school, he avoided trouble. In matches, he avoided risk. Coaches praised his clean passing, his positional awareness, and his low mistake count. But he also never made headlines. He never took chances.
And then there was Leo Barnes.
Leo was Noah's opposite: bold, fearless, always willing to take the shot. The perfect striker, the star of their youth team. And Noah? He was just the quiet kid who fed him easy passes—until today, when he couldn't even do that.
"Noah!"
Leo caught up to him outside the locker room, limping slightly but full of energy despite the loss. His blond hair stuck to his forehead, and his eyes burned with frustration.
"Why didn't you pass?!"
Noah froze. "I… I didn't think it was safe."
"Safe? We were losing, mate! Sometimes you take the risk. Sometimes you trust yourself, yeah?"
Noah wanted to say something, to explain how the thought of failing gnawed at his gut like acid, but no words came.
Leo shook his head. "You see the game better than anyone, Noah. You've got everything. But you're too damn scared to use it."
He turned and walked away. Noah stood there, shoulders slumped, feeling smaller than ever.
That night, Noah lay on his bed, replaying the scene over and over.
Why am I like this? Why can't I just… act?
His phone buzzed with messages from teammates, but he ignored them. His gaze drifted to the ceiling—and then something impossible happened.
A floating window appeared in the air, like something out of a video game HUD.
[Football Vision Console Activated]
Initializing…
Legacy Detected: "Iniesta's Legacy"
Acquired Skills:
Spatial Awareness Lv1
La Pausa Lv1
Weighted Passing Lv1
Noah bolted upright. "What the—?"
The text changed on its own:
"The eyes of a maestro are nothing without courage. Face your fear. Own your decisions."
The window blinked out of existence, leaving Noah staring at empty air.
The next morning, Noah walked onto the training pitch with a strange sense of clarity.
And then it happened again—the faint glowing lines overlaying his vision. Passing lanes appeared like arrows on a screen, players' movement paths highlighted in subtle colors. He blinked hard, but it stayed.
When the ball rolled to him, he trusted the lines, delivered a pass without overthinking—perfect weight, perfect angle.
"Whoa!" a teammate exclaimed. "Where the hell did that come from, Kane?"
Noah said nothing.
Coach Harper squinted. "Don't get fancy if you're not gonna commit, Kane."
Commit. The word echoed in Noah's head.
For the first time in his life, he wanted to change. He didn't want to be the invisible, safe player anymore. He wanted to own the pitch.
That night, he messaged Leo.
Noah: About yesterday… I'm sorry. I'll do better.
Leo: Better? You mean you'll stop playing scared?
Noah: Yeah. I think it's time I actually trust myself.
A long pause, then one simple emoji: 👍.
It was enough.
A final window flickered in his vision as he lay in bed, smiling faintly for the first time in weeks.
[New Quest: "Find Your Courage"]
Objective: Execute one clutch play under pressure.
Reward: +5 Composure Rating | Hidden Skill Path Unlock**
Noah clenched his fist. "Alright… let's see if I can actually change."