The evening sun dipped low as Arthur walked back through the iron gates of the Hayes estate. The mansion loomed ahead, a shadow of its former glory.
Once, guards stood proudly at the entrance, servants bustled through the courtyards, carriages came and went. Now, silence. Only weeds grew between the cobblestones, and the golden lion crest above the gate was faded and cracked.
Arthur pushed the door open. The faint smell of bread and stew greeted him.
"Arthur? You're home," his mother's gentle voice called.
Lady Eleanor sat in the dining hall, wearing a simple dress, her silver hair tied neatly. She smiled as if nothing were wrong, though the weariness in her eyes betrayed her.
"How was training today?" she asked, placing another plate at the table.
Arthur hesitated. The truth? He had been mocked, shoved aside, gasping for air before the scrimmage ended. But for the first time, he'd seen a flicker of approval in the coach's eyes.
"…It was better than before," Arthur said finally.
Her eyes softened. She reached out, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. "That's good. Progress is enough."
From the doorway, heavy steps approached. Lord Reginald entered, shoulders broad, presence commanding despite his worn clothes. He carried himself like a captain even here, in this empty hall.
His stern eyes scanned Arthur. "You lasted the full match?"
Arthur nodded. "Yes, Father."
Reginald grunted. "Good. Endurance is a start. But remember—our name is not carried by lasting. It is carried by winning."
Arthur bowed his head slightly. "I understand."
Dinner was served. Stew, bread, and a little roasted meat — simple, but filling. The three of them sat at a table made for twenty, the empty chairs echoing like ghosts.
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Eleanor spoke, softly.
"Arthur… when you were small, do you remember the parades?"
Arthur froze. Memories from Arthur's past life — now his memories too — surfaced. The streets filled with banners, fans chanting Hayes! Hayes! as the team rode carriages with trophies held high. He remembered sitting on his father's shoulders, waving to the crowds.
"I remember," Arthur said quietly.
Eleanor smiled wistfully. "We were a family that stood at the top. But even now… even like this… we are still Hayes. That means we don't bow our heads. Do you understand?"
Arthur clenched his fists under the table. "I understand, Mother. I'll make sure those days return."
Reginald's stern face softened for a brief second. "See that you do."
Later that night, in his room, Arthur sat cross-legged on his bed. The system panel flickered before his eyes.
Ding!
[Skill Unlocked: Vision Lv.1]
Passing Accuracy +3
Key Pass Tendency (slight improvement in spotting runs)
Arthur flexed his hands, recalling the few moments during the scrimmage where he had seen passing lanes others missed. The system's boost wasn't miraculous — it was small, subtle. But he felt it.
So this is how it works… he thought. Not instant greatness. But step by step, skill by skill.
He glanced at the mirror. His reflection was pale, his body thin, shoulders not broad enough. His stamina was poor, his speed average. In FIFA terms, he was a bronze card nobody would remember.
But his eyes… his eyes burned with determination.
"I don't care if I'm a bronze card now," Arthur whispered to himself. "I'll grind. I'll train. I'll become a legend."
Outside, the night was quiet. The once-great Hayes crest swayed in the breeze, torn and faded.
Inside, in a lonely room lit by moonlight, a fallen noble's son clenched his fists and made his vow again.
Step by step. Day by day. The Hayes would rise.