Parallel World. United States.
The U.S. Football Association's Youth Team Training Base.
Chaos unfolded on the pitch—teenage players were brawling in broad daylight.
In the stands, the overweight head coach stood next to a smug, cigar-smoking man named Zachary Tate, a powerful figure in U.S. youth football circles.
The coach flattered with a grin plastered across his face.
"Mr. Tate, your son's performance today is top-class. I truly believe he deserves to be captain of the youth team."
"Hmm!" Tate puffed out a cloud of smoke and gave a lazy nod. He was enjoying the praise.
On the field near the goalpost, Zachary's son, Riley Tate, awkwardly took a wild shot.
The ball smacked the goalkeeper right in the face before rolling out of bounds.
"You f**king idiot!" Riley screamed. "Blocking my shot? You think you can stay on this team?"
The young goalkeeper turned pale, stammering, "I didn't even move—"
"How dare you talk back!"
Riley charged and slapped the boy hard across the face. The poor kid burst into tears but didn't dare fight back.
Everyone knew the truth—Riley Tate was untouchable. As the son of the team leader, he could do anything and get away with it.
"Get off the damn field!"
The goalkeeper, humiliated, lowered his head and walked off.
The coach, trying to look impressive, said to Zachary Tate, "You've really raised a tough leader..."
Before he could finish, Zachary cut him off coldly.
"Tell that kid he's done."
"Absolutely! I'll have him gone by sunset."
...
The dismissed goalkeeper sat on the bench, defeated.
Meanwhile, the assistant coach gestured to a new substitute.
"Hey—uh, Romeo Teixeira. You're up."
The black-haired teen stood from the bench, adjusting his shin guards with quiet calm.
Romeo was half-American, half-Argentine. He'd trained at La Masia and now played for Barcelona B as a central midfielder. But he wasn't just any youth prospect—he was also a reincarnator who had landed in this world just eight days ago.
Tweet!
The whistle blew.
Romeo joined Team B—Riley Tate's opponent.
From the moment he stepped on the pitch, something changed. He moved with poise and fluidity, orchestrating plays like a seasoned maestro. Every pass was calculated. Every touch crisp.
He wasn't flashy. Just efficient. Deadly efficient.
Although Romeo's skill level was just average in Spain's youth circuits, here in America's corrupt development system, his level was like watching a Champions League player scrimmage against middle schoolers.
With Romeo running the midfield, Team B's cohesion skyrocketed.
Then came the breakthrough.
Romeo dribbled past a defender, spun elegantly, and unleashed a slicing through ball.
The ball threaded through the legs of a stunned center-back and landed perfectly at the feet of the striker.
A simple tap-in.
Goal! 1-0.
The opposing keeper didn't even move.
But the celebration was short-lived.
"You f**king moron! Who told you to shoot?!" Riley Tate roared. The striker froze, visibly terrified.
...
Romeo watched all this in silence.
He had once hoped this version of American football would be better—cleaner. But it was worse.
Rotten to the core.
On the restart, Riley fumbled his first touch, letting the ball roll five meters away. A Team B player reflexively went to intercept but quickly backed off—scared of what Riley might do.
Romeo couldn't hold back a laugh.
He stepped forward. Smooth. Precise. Clinical.
A single movement. He stole the ball cleanly from Riley like it was nothing.
"You little sh*t! You think you're special?!"
Riley lunged with studs raised, aiming directly at Romeo's knee—a career-ending move if it had landed.
Romeo dodged with a sharp turn.
Cold fire ignited in his eyes.
That wasn't just dirty—it was criminal.
Riley wasn't finished. He rushed again.
This time, Romeo struck back.
BAM!
One punch. Right to the face.
Riley crashed to the ground, holding his bleeding nose and howling in pain.
"You bastard! You hit my son?!"
Zachary Tate stormed down from the stands like a bull seeing red.
"You're finished, boy! I'll make sure you never play in the U.S. again! I'll have you jailed and blacklisted!"
Romeo met his rage with icy calm.
"If this is what American football is... I'd rather walk away."
As chaos exploded on the field, the coaches and staff scrambled to restrain Tate before things escalated.
The head coach screamed, "Get out! You're banned from this facility!"
Romeo didn't even flinch.
He turned and walked away—his back straight, his conviction unshaken.
"Take my son to the hospital!" Tate barked. "And cancel that kid's citizenship application. I want him erased from the system!"
The federation would later make it official.
Romeo Teixeira: permanently expelled from the U.S. Youth National Team. Banned from all domestic development leagues.
But the story wasn't ending.
It was just beginning.
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