The morning arrived quietly, almost deceptively so.
Sunlight filtered through the thin clouds above Carrington, painting the training ground in soft gold. The grass looked perfect—too perfect. Noah knew from experience that days like this never stayed calm for long.
He jogged onto the pitch with the Core Group, boots crunching lightly against the ground. His body felt different these days. Not stronger in a dramatic way, but more… responsive. Like his muscles were finally listening to his thoughts instead of arguing with them.
This is how it starts, he thought.
Not with power. With control.
"Big day," Marcus said beside him, rolling his shoulders. "Internal match. Scouts watching."
Liam, who had somehow wandered close despite being in the Development Group, leaned in and whispered, "If you score, remember me when you're famous."
Ethan adjusted his glasses. "Statistically, he'll remember no one."
Noah smiled but said nothing. His eyes drifted toward the far side of the pitch.
Damien Blackwood stood alone, juggling the ball effortlessly.
Each touch was crisp, confident, almost arrogant. He didn't look at anyone else—like the world existed only to watch him perform.
Pure ego, Noah noted.
But backed by real talent.
Coach Harrison's whistle echoed.
"Listen up!" he shouted. "This isn't a drill.
This is a match. Core Group versus Combined Squad. Ninety minutes, proper rules. Show me what you are."
A real match.
Not a friendly.
Not practice.
Noah's heartbeat quickened.
This was the kind of game that changed things.
Reputations were built here—quietly, without applause.
One mistake could follow you for years.
One moment of brilliance could open doors you didn't even know existed.
They took their positions.
Noah was placed as a central attacking midfielder, just behind the striker. It suited him. Space to see everything. Time—if he earned it.
The whistle blew.
The match began at a blistering pace.
The Combined Squad pressed aggressively, trying to overwhelm the Core Group early.
Tackles flew in.
The ball moved fast. Faster than any training session.
Noah's first touch came under pressure.
He controlled the ball, turned—and nearly lost it.
Too slow.
He passed back immediately, heart pounding.
Calm down. This isn't the future. This is now.
Damien demanded the ball constantly, barking orders, pointing where others should move. Some obeyed. Some didn't.
When they didn't, his frustration showed.
He dribbled past one defender.
Then another.
A third challenged him—and Damien forced his way through, using raw acceleration.
The crowd—small but attentive—murmured.
He shot.
Saved.
Noah exhaled slowly.
Same pattern. Same finish.
The game settled into rhythm.
Noah started reading movements, positioning himself not where the ball was—but where it would be.
He intercepted passes, redirected play, kept things moving.
No flashy moves.
No techniques.
Just football.
At the twenty-minute mark, he felt it again.
That strange sensation.
Like the world narrowing.
The shouts faded. The ball stood out sharper than everything else.
For a second, he thought—
Is this—
No.
It vanished just as quickly.
Not yet.
The system remained silent.
Good.
Damien received the ball near the edge of the box again. Same setup. Same angle.
This time, Noah moved early.
He cut across the passing lane, forcing Damien wider.
Damien hesitated.
That half-second was enough.
A defender recovered.
The chance died.
Damien glared at Noah.
Noah met his gaze calmly.
Nothing said.
Everything understood.
Halftime arrived with the score still 0–0.
Players collapsed onto the grass, breathing heavily. Sweat soaked their kits despite the cool air.
Coach Harrison walked among them slowly.
"You think this is enough?" he said. "This pace? This intensity?"
No one answered.
He stopped in front of Noah.
"Ravenscroft," he said. "You see the field well. But vision without courage is useless."
Noah nodded. "Yes, Coach."
Coach Harrison turned away.
Damien scoffed quietly.
Second half.
The match restarted with renewed aggression.
The Combined Squad adapted, targeting Noah more aggressively now. Two players closed him down every time he touched the ball.
So they've noticed.
Pressure mounted.
Noah lost possession once.
Then twice.
A mistake here would spiral.
SYSTEM NOTICE:
Mental Load Increasing
Recommendation: Controlled Breathing
Noah inhaled deeply.
No shortcuts.
He adjusted his play—shorter passes, quicker movement, drawing defenders away instead of fighting them directly.
It worked.
Space opened.
At the sixty-fifth minute, Marcus won the ball and surged forward. He glanced at Noah instinctively.
Noah didn't call for it.
He moved.
Marcus passed.
Noah received the ball between the lines, one defender closing fast.
He turned—cleanly.
Shot?
No.
He slipped a pass through the narrowest gap imaginable.
The striker latched onto it.
Goal.
The pitch erupted.
1–0.
Noah clenched his fist once, quietly.
Damien stared.
That wasn't power, he thought bitterly.
That was command.
The match intensified again.
Damien grew more reckless, trying to force moments. His dribbles became sharper—but riskier..
At the seventy-eighth minute, he lost the ball again.
Noah intercepted.
The field opened in front of him.
For a brief second, instinct screamed—
Run.
His legs responded before thought.
Not faster.
Just… cleaner.
He drove forward, defenders scrambling.
One tried to tackle.
Noah shifted his weight and slipped past—not with skill, but timing.
The goalkeeper rushed out.
Noah slowed.
Then chipped the ball lightly.
It arced.
Time seemed to hold its breath.
Goal.
Silence.
Then chaos.
2–0.
Noah stood still, stunned—not by the goal, but by the feeling.
That moment.
That clarity.
SYSTEM NOTICE:
Momentary Alignment Detected
Status: Incomplete
Incomplete…
So that wasn't it.
The final whistle blew minutes later.
The match ended.
Noah bent forward, hands on his knees, lungs burning.
Damien walked past him, jaw tight.
"This isn't over," Damien said quietly.
Noah looked up.
"I know."
Later, as the sun dipped lower and players dispersed, Coach Harrison called Noah aside.
"You're not the strongest," he said. "You're not the fastest. But you influence the game."
He paused.
"That's rare."
Noah nodded respectfully.
The system chimed softly as he left the pitch.
SYSTEM UPDATE:
Match Completed
Stat Growth:
Vision +2
Composure +1
Passing +1
Hidden Progress:
Flow Frame Sensitivity Increased
Noah smiled faintly.
Ninety minutes, he thought.
And the world took one small step closer to noticing me.