Morning came too quickly.
Sunlight crept through the curtains of Adrian's room, warm and unforgiving, dragging him out of a dreamless sleep. His body ached in places he didn't expect—legs heavy, shoulders sore, mind strangely sharp.
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
Last night hadn't been a dream.
The system.
The trial.
The numbers.
Adrian sat up slowly and swung his legs off the bed. The familiar weight of doubt settled in his chest, instinctive after years of disappointment.
"Legacy Gridiron," he said quietly.
A subtle pulse responded.
[Active.]
His breath caught, just a little.
"So you're still here," he muttered.
He didn't need to close his eyes this time. The information surfaced smoothly, like a thought he'd practiced a thousand times.
[Status — Adrian Vale]
Strength: 52
Agility: 54
Endurance: 58
Game Vision: 73
Clutch Mentality: 61
Chemistry: 43
Reputation: 39
The increases were there.
Small.
Almost insulting.
Adrian stared at the numbers, jaw tightening.
"That's it?" he said flatly. "I nearly passed out for that?"
[Growth reflects efficiency, not effort alone.]
He scoffed. "You sound like my father."
The system didn't respond.
Adrian leaned back against the headboard, rubbing his face. Rationally, he knew this wasn't magic that would turn him into a star overnight. Still… seeing those numbers laid bare was uncomfortable.
They weren't guesses.
They weren't opinions.
They were truth.
And the truth was that compared to elite players—compared to his brother—he was still far behind.
The difference was that now, the gap had a shape.
And shapes could be crossed.
Breakfast at the Vale household was quiet.
Not awkward—just controlled.
The dining room was wide and elegant, sunlight pouring in through tall windows, reflecting off polished surfaces that never showed a speck of dust. Adrian sat across from his father, his older brother to the side, his older sister scrolling through her phone with mild disinterest.
Lily sat beside Adrian, swinging her legs.
"You're sore," she said suddenly, peering at him.
Adrian blinked. "What?"
"You're moving slow," she explained matter-of-factly. "Did you train again?"
His mother glanced up briefly, concern flickering in her eyes before she masked it with a sip of coffee.
Adrian nodded. "Yeah. A little."
His father didn't look up from the tablet in his hand. "Be careful not to overdo it," he said. "Injuries end careers before they begin."
Adrian swallowed the retort that rose instinctively.
"Yes, sir."
His brother finally glanced at him. Their eyes met for a brief moment—calm, unreadable.
"Try not to be late today," his brother said. "Coach hates that."
Adrian nodded again.
Lily leaned closer and whispered, "Are you going to play today?"
He smiled faintly. "Probably not."
She frowned. "That's stupid."
His older sister snorted quietly, not looking up. "She's not wrong."
Adrian chuckled under his breath.
Sometimes, that was enough.
The heat hit him the moment he stepped onto campus.
Miami didn't ease into the day—it attacked it. The sun hung high, relentless, as students flooded the walkways, laughter and conversation blending into a constant hum.
Adrian moved through it all like a ghost.
Some people nodded politely. Others barely spared him a glance. A few whispered, their eyes flicking toward him before darting away.
Vale's other son.
The one who doesn't play.
By the time he reached the locker room, the noise had shifted. Lockers slammed shut. Music played from someone's speaker. The energy was different here—tighter, sharper.
Game day practice.
Adrian changed quickly, pulling on his gear with practiced motions. The weight of the pads settled over his shoulders, familiar and oddly comforting.
"Yo, Vale."
He looked up to see one of the receivers leaning against a locker, arms crossed.
"You starting today?" the guy asked, tone casual but eyes curious.
Adrian shook his head. "Doubt it."
The receiver shrugged. "Coach has you running drills, though. Guess that's something."
Something.
Adrian stepped onto the practice field moments later, helmet under his arm, eyes scanning the layout automatically.
Routes. Spacing. Defensive alignment.
The system stirred faintly.
[Game Vision engaged.]
It wasn't dramatic. No flashing lights or alerts. Just… clarity.
Adrian frowned slightly as he watched the defense shift.
"That linebacker's off," he muttered.
The play started.
The starting quarterback dropped back—and immediately hesitated.
The pocket collapsed faster than expected.
Sack.
Coach's whistle cut through the air, sharp and irritated.
Adrian felt it before he realized why.
"That blitz was coming," he said quietly.
The words slipped out without thought.
A few heads turned.
Coach looked over. "You see something, Vale?"
Adrian hesitated, then nodded. "They disguised it late. Strong side overloaded."
The coach studied him for a moment, then waved him over.
"Show me."
Adrian swallowed and stepped forward, pointing out the positioning, explaining what he'd noticed. The words came easily—too easily.
The coach listened, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Run it again," he said.
They did.
This time, the quarterback adjusted.
The blitz came.
And failed.
A murmur rippled through the team.
Adrian stood there, heart pounding—not from exertion, but realization.
The system hadn't made him stronger.
It had made him clearer.
Coach nodded once. "Good eye."
Two words.
But they hit harder than any praise Adrian had ever received.
From the sidelines, Lily's voice echoed in his memory.
You're going to be amazing someday.
Adrian clenched his fists.
The numbers might still mock him.
But for the first time, the game felt like it was finally listening back.
Reader Question
Do you like how Adrian's strength is starting to show through understanding rather than raw talent?
Would you want to see him prove himself through strategy and intelligence? 💬🔥