The locker room buzzed with the low hum of voices, the clatter of studs against tiles, and the fading echo of fans chanting outside the tunnel.
Virtus Lombardia's 3–1 victory still hung in the air like a heavy perfume of sweat, adrenaline, and disbelief.
Jaeven sat quietly on the bench, towel draped around his neck. His heart was still racing—not from the match, but from the realization that he had just lived his dream.
His debut.
Two goals.
And not just tap-ins—goals that shifted the tempo of the game, moments that lit a spark through the stands and turned uncertainty into euphoria.
His teammates clapped his shoulder as they passed—some with genuine smiles, others with that mix of surprise and acceptance that came when a newcomer suddenly rewrote expectations.
A few even joked.
"Kid's got ice in his veins."
"Guess Rossi's gamble paid off."
Coach Leonardo Rossi had watched him throughout the game, his expression unreadable. The man once known as The Midfield King didn't waste praise lightly. Yet, as he approached, his presence alone made everyone straighten.
"You did well out there," Rossi said finally, his voice calm but carrying weight. "Composure, creativity, and courage—that's what I want to see every week. But remember, a single match means nothing if you don't build on it."
Jaeven nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Understood, coach."
Rossi studied him for a moment, then walked away. That was it—no long speech, no dramatic praise. But to Jaeven, those four words were worth more than any applause.
When he finally stepped outside, the evening air felt cool against his skin. He spotted his family by the gate—his mother's tearful eyes, his father's proud but restrained smile. His younger sister practically bounced as she waved.
He waved back, heart swelling.
I really did it…
Yet deep down, he knew this was only the beginning.
---
That night, the quiet of his small apartment wrapped around him like a blanket. The adrenaline had faded, replaced by a strange sense of peace.
He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, when the faint chime echoed in his mind.
> [Ding!]
Divine Echelon Framework – Match Report Completed.
Calculating performance score…
Goals: 2
Assists: 0
Match Rating: 8.9
Result: Victory (+ Team Morale Boost)
> You have exceeded expectations for your debut.
Rewarding player growth.
> ⚽ Match Reward Summary:
• + Small increase in Ball Control and Spectral Awareness due to match rhythm adaptation.
• + Hidden stat: Confidence unlocked.
• + 1 Random Skill Ticket (Uncommon)
• + 1 Special Skill (Performance-based)
Jaeven sat up, heart pounding again.
"Two rewards?" he muttered.
> [Would you like to use the Random Skill Ticket?]
He hesitated—then nodded. "Use it."
> [Random Skill Rolling…]
…
Skill Acquired: Charismatic Presence (C)
Your composure and aura naturally draw attention. Teammates are more likely to trust your calls; opponents may hesitate momentarily under pressure.
(Passive – Affects off-pitch interactions and leadership growth potential.)
Jaeven blinked. "Charismatic… presence?" He almost laughed.
"Guess even the system's saying I clean up well."
Still, the description intrigued him. It wasn't just about looks—it was influence, presence, the kind of subtle pull he'd always seen in legends who could change a team's mood just by stepping on the pitch.
Then another line of text flashed.
> [Special Player Skill Reward – Triggered by Performance]
Skill Unlocked: Momentum Shift (B–)
Activates when trailing by 1 or more goals. Temporarily enhances decision speed, creativity, and execution under pressure. Duration: 10 minutes (real-time).
(Cooldown: 1 match)
His pulse quickened.
A skill that made him thrive when the team was struggling. A skill born out of fighting uphill.
"That… fits me perfectly."
He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the second goal. The pressure, the noise, the fear—and then that rush, that strange clarity when everything slowed down. He'd entered a zone where hesitation didn't exist.
Maybe that had been the seed of this skill.
> [System Tip]
"Greatness isn't built in comfort—it's born in moments when the world doubts you."
He smirked faintly. "You've got a poetic side, huh?"
The screen dimmed and vanished, leaving him alone again with his thoughts. But the warmth stayed. Not the glow of victory, but the steady flame of purpose.
He turned to his notebook on the nightstand—the same one he'd started since joining Virtus Lombardia. The cover read simply: Dream Log.
He opened to a blank page and wrote:
> Chapter One of My Real Life
– I debuted today.
– Scored twice.
– Coach acknowledged me.
– I can feel something changing inside me.
He stared at the words for a long time before closing it and whispering,
"This time… I won't fade away."
The system flickered once more before shutting down completely for the night.
> [System Note]
"Player mental state: Stable. Determination – Rising."
And as sleep slowly claimed him, the boy who once died dreaming of football drifted into dreams filled with stadium lights, roaring crowds, and a single voice echoing in his head—his own.
"This is only the beginning."
---