Chapter 2 - Daddy's Boy?. Fine
The crowd was still roaring, but Nathan heard it like an echo underwater—muted, distant, unreal. His legs were numb, his lungs tight, his boots caked in turf and glory.
He'd done it.
Hat-trick. Comeback. Hero.
The final whistle had blown, but the shockwaves were still rippling through the pitch, the stands, and somewhere deep inside his own chest.
He walked toward the sideline like a man coming down from a dream, sweat dripping down his face, his pulse still hammering. The adrenaline hadn't faded yet. Neither had the disbelieving looks from his teammates. No one spoke. They just… stared.
As he neared the touchline, he saw him.
Coach Tyler Perry. Arms crossed, posture as rigid as ever, eyes like twin razors trying to read every line of his son's face. That usual edge of disapproval—gone. Replaced by something else. Something unreadable.
"You did well, Nathan," his father said, voice low. Controlled. Measured.
Nathan blinked. That was it? After everything?
He opened his mouth to reply, but another voice beat him to it.
"I think that was something special."
Nathan turned, and there he was—a man in a navy blazer, clipboard in hand, with the Leeds United crest shining on his breast pocket. His eyes were sharp, appraising. Like a hawk sizing up prey it suddenly realized was more than just a mouse.
"We've been watching you for a while," the scout continued, stepping forward, his tone steady but tinged with something else—genuine excitement. "But today… today was different."
Nathan swallowed. "Different?"
"That," the scout said, pointing back to the pitch where the echoes of the crowd still lingered, "was a game-changer. And not just for the scoreboard."
A second man approached, younger, a little scruffier but just as sharp. "We've already lined up training sessions for next week," he said, his grin wide. "If you're interested, we'll get you in front of the academy staff. Make it official if you impress."
Nathan felt a rush in his chest. Not the kind that comes with panic, but the kind that comes with possibility. Leeds United. The very name made his stomach twist with disbelief.
This was it. His chance.
He looked down at his own hands for a second. They were trembling. Not from exhaustion—but from the weight of the moment.
He wasn't supposed to be here. Not really. He was the coach's kid. The scapegoat. The joke. And now, out of nowhere, he'd flipped the script.
His gaze flicked back to his father. Tyler gave him a small nod—subtle, almost invisible to anyone else. But to Nathan, it felt like a green light.
And maybe, just maybe, a bit of pride.
Nathan straightened his spine. Took a breath.
"Yes," he said, loud enough to be heard over the lingering noise. "I'm ready."
The younger scout grinned. The older one just nodded. "Good," he said. "Then your journey starts now."
Thud.
The moment burst like a balloon as someone clapped him on the shoulder—hard. Nathan turned to see Lucas, the team captain, looking at him with a face caught between disbelief and respect.
"I don't know what the hell that was, man," Lucas muttered, "but... damn. You turned into a monster out there."
Nathan gave a small smile. "Guess I had something to prove."
"No kidding. Keep that up and you'll be outta here before we even hit playoffs."
Other teammates hovered nearby. Some gave him cautious nods. A few still kept their distance. One or two looked like they were trying to figure out how a guy they ignored all season had just become him in ten minutes.
Let them wonder.
Nathan took a long breath and stepped toward the bench. As he reached for his water bottle, something flashed in front of his vision.
[Ding!]
[Legend Points Gained: +100]
His fingers froze mid-grab. The screen hovered just beyond the bottle, bright and impossible.
His eyes darted around. No one else saw it. No one else could.
The same electric hum from before vibrated through his chest, like a second heartbeat awakening.
[Cristiano Ronaldo's Shooting – Lv.1]
"Oi! Nathan!" one of the assistants barked. "Get moving. Scouts wanna speak again in the lounge!"
"Yeah," Nathan said, finally grabbing the bottle. "On my way."
He walked toward the tunnel, boots dragging against the turf. The lights above flickered slightly, casting long shadows behind him. His body was starting to ache—delayed onset. His legs felt like steel rods bent out of shape. But his mind?
Sharp. Focused. Hungry.
The tunnel swallowed him in shade, the noise of the stadium dimming into a soft hum. Each footstep echoed louder than the last.
At the end of the corridor, he paused for a beat.
This was more than football now. More than family drama or locker room whispers. The System had changed everything. Not just the way he played—but the way he saw the game. Angles. Pressure. Movement. Timing. It had all snapped into place like puzzle pieces he didn't even know were missing.
Was it some kind of AI implant? Magic? Hallucination?
Whatever it was… it worked.
But with it came a question that wouldn't stop bouncing around in his skull.
Was it really him scoring those goals? Or the System?
He clenched his jaw. No—he felt it. The strike, the movement, the instincts—they were his. The System didn't take over. It amplified him. Like flipping a switch on a hidden engine.
That meant the power was inside him all along. He just needed help unlocking it.
A slow, satisfied smile tugged at his lips.
Let them say what they want.
"Daddy's Boy?" Fine.
They'd remember the boy.
But soon, they'd know the legend.
He stepped into the lounge where the scouts were waiting. A new beginning—one he was ready for.