Leo woke up before the alarm. The air was still, heavy with the scent of sweat-soaked walls and cheap detergent. His eyes adjusted to the low light bleeding in through the cracked window. 4:50 AM.
He turned his head, Kael lay on the top bunk, silent as a statue, one leg dangling off the edge. Leo stretched quietly, bones popping in protest. The nerves were already here, clawing at his stomach.
He dropped to the floor and started doing pushups. First ten, then twenty. Slow but steady. His palms slapped lightly against the cold cement.
Then there was a creak above. Kael leaned over the edge.
"You warming up or fighting ghosts?"
Leo grunted. "Warming up."
Kael rolled over. A few seconds later, he climbed down and started doing pushups beside him, no words. It turned into an unspoken competition. They went until both collapsed.
Leo wiped his face with a towel. His arms burned, but his chest felt lighter. Still no prompt from the system. Not even a flicker.
He changed into his cheap training kit. The shirt hung loose but it was his, it was earned. He grabbed his towel and water bottle, slipped on his shoes, and stepped out into the cold dawn.
The surroundings were quiet. Pale orange lights flickered on the poles. Mist hugged the ground. East District looked almost peaceful. He jogged toward the field, East Hollow field.
The field was foggy, like something out of a dream. Dew clung to the uneven grass. The rusty goalposts stood tall like ancient guards. A few boys were already there for the trials. Some were stretching while others just standing around, hands in pockets, looking like they regretted waking up.
Leo counted, they were about twenty of them by the time the whistle blew. Coach Grayson walked in from the far end, clipboard in hand with his jacket zipped all the way up. No smile. Just greetings and business.
"Morning, boys. Welcome to Hume United. This is a trial, not a tour." Just business.
"Three days," he said, voice sharp. "Prove you belong. Or get out of the way for someone who does."
Then she stepped forward. Maddy Tao, short, fierce-eyed, and sharp like a blade, with tight braids pulled into a bun and a whistle resting on her hip. Her eyes scanned the squad like she was reading each player's soul. She wore a black windbreaker, clipboard under one arm, stopwatch in the other. She didn't look much older, late twenties maybe, but the way the players stood straighter when she appeared told Leo all he needed to know.
This was no assistant in title alone. Maddy Tao had played midfield for one of the top national clubs before a knee injury cut her career short. Now, she ran Hume's training sessions making others to be sharper, faster, smarter.
She walked down the line, calling names, checking attendance and jotting notes on her tablet. Her gaze landed on Leo for a second.
"Are you Foster?"
Leo nodded.
She gave a small nod back, with no smile. "Hope you brought more than heart."
…
Warm-ups started immediately, giving no chance for talking or delay. They began with laps, not casual jogging, it was full-length sprints across the width of the field, five times back and forth. Breath came hot and ragged in Leo's throat by the third. Some slowed down but Leo didn't, he kept his pace his legs stretching and heart hammering in rhythm.
Then came the stretches, Tao shouted instructions. "Left leg forward! Hold for fifteen! Switch! On your toes, bounce, bounce!"
They dropped to the grass, pulled knees to chests and twisted at the waist. Steam rose from the warming bodies and the mist began to lift.
As if not enough, suicides followed everyone groaned quietly.
But Tao kept on giving instructions and observing
"Go!"
They dashed to the ten-yard mark then back, twenty-yard and Back, then thirty.
Leo's lungs burned, his calves screamed. But he gritted his teeth and kept pushing. Here there were no shortcuts.
Cone sprints followed. Orange markers set out in zig-zag lines, they had to dash through, weaving tight, without knocking any over.
Leo nearly lost balance on a quick turn, his right foot slipped. But he caught himself and kept going.
Tao instructed, "Again! Back through."
Leo's feet slammed against the wet grass, his eyes locked forward, and every breath felt heavier than the last. He wasn't the fastest or the strongest. His legs burned, the chest ached but he didn't stop.
Sprints followed, then the agility cones, whistle cues and zig-zag turns. Leo slipped once , got up fast and blew past the last cone, nearly crashing into a fence.
Some guy from the Banter Squad laughed.
"Speedy but clumsy," he called out.
Leo ignored him. Then came the mental drill. Tao stood in the center.
"Left! Drop! Roll! Pass! Freeze!"
Players twisted, dropped, rolled. Some bumped into each other. Leo moved by instinct, his body snapped into position, just half a beat behind. He froze, eyes locked forward. One of the Nervous Runners stumbled into him.
"Sorry," The boy mumbled.
Leo nodded. Barely. His heart pounded like a drum. Still no system prompt.
"Next up! ball work, passing drills, control tests and quick turns. Push! You want the field? Earn it!" Tao barked.
Leo started rough, his first touch was heavy, a pass too soft. But halfway through, he adjusted letting the ball do the work. Coach Grayson didn't say a word. He just scribbled.
….
They were granted a short break, only ten minutes. Most collapsed onto the grass, hands on knees, dripping sweat.
Leo took a slow sip from his bottle, the water felt like gold down his throat. Then he spotted Kael standing under a tree, arms crossed, not drinking, just watching everyone.
A few guys from the Banter Squad laughed loud and tossed their shirts over their shoulders, flexing exaggeratedly.
"That kid nearly flew into the fence," one joked, jerking a thumb toward Leo.
"Yeah? Well at least he finished the drill," someone muttered.
Leo ignored it.
Then came the real test, 5v5. "Alright, form teams! Five-a-side! We're running half-pitch matches! No coaching, no help. Just show me who plays to win and who plays for show."
Tao's voice snapped them out of their rest.
One by one, those that identified themselves as captains chose, midfielders, defenders, a few of the loud Banter boys and a keeper.
Leo was left standing near the end, then he was picked last. A tall guy with bleached tips squinted at him. "Eh, fine. You, come midfield, just don't slow us down."
Leo nodded, he didn't care where he played just that he played.
The Whistle blew, and the game started fast. Leo's team pressed hard in the first minutes, but no one passed much. Everyone wanted to be the hero.
Leo stayed back, trying to read the game, then one of the Banter guys hogged the ball. Leo barely touched it, Then he saw a chance, an intercept, he controlled the ball on the half-turn, spotted the winger breaking through, and delivered a low pass blind pass toward the edge of the box between two defenders, it connected and the winger took it, crossed and scored.
Their was no celebration, just nods. Leo exhaled and jogged back.
A few minutes later, he lost the ball trying to dribble through two defenders.
"What was that?" bleached tips yelled. "Don't do too much, rookie."
Leo raised a hand. "My bad."
Next play, he stacked to simple, fast and smart passing.
Grayson stood near the sideline, scribbling still. His expression was unreadable. The game ended 2-2. With no glory moment or collapse either.
After the session, Grayson lined them up. One by one, he spoke to each.
"Too slow."
"No vision."
"Decent control."
Then when he reached to Leo, he paused. Then he said, "You're late to everything… except the pass. Fix that."
Leo blinked, it was not a compliment or a dismissal either.
Maddy Tao called out the list. Six players were cut immediately. Leo's name remained and with the rest, they were told to return the following day.
…
His legs felt like lead, dust clung to his socks and his lungs ached. Still no prompt.
He stared at the sky. 'Is the system broken? Gone?'
His phone buzzed pulling his thoughts back,
Grandpa. Mr. Wen: {The ones who grow slow often stand the tallest. Keep going, Leo.}
After reading this Leo smiled, just a little.
…
Back at the hostel, Kael sat at the desk, cleaning his boots. He didn't look up.
Leo nodded. "Hey."
Kael grunted. "You didn't suck."
"Thanks."
He sat by the window with his container of leftover yam. Cold, but edible. Outside, the sky burned orange behind the towers.
From another room, he heard laughter and a talk of an upcoming amateur tournament. One week away, Hume United would join and Couch Grayson might pick 2-4 players from the trials.
Leo chewed slowly. Official match… He didn't know it yet, that the system gave him time to practice enough it was not just silent.
Leo turned and looked in the cracked mirror, the one hanging crooked near his bed. He saw the bench at Silvercrest, the silence, the loneliness. He touched his chest.
'Day one… survived.' He smirked. 'But I'm not here to survive.'
His eyes burned with a quiet fire, then he leaned forward 'I'm here to take the field.'