The Football Legends System

The Next Morning – Carrington Training Ground.

The sky over Manchester was grey, heavy with clouds that hadn't rained yet but threatened to.

The mood inside the training facility was no different.

The players arrived one by one. No jokes.. Even the usual clatter of boots on tile was quieter than normal.

Demir leaned toward Valverde near the gym hallway.

"Nathan's not himself…" he whispered. "He hasn't spoken since yesterday."

Valverde looked toward the coffee room, brows furrowed.

He didn't say anything.

Inside, Nathan stood by the coffee machine, waiting for it to finish grinding.

His eyes were empty. Dark bags beneath them. He didn't even flinch when Valverde stepped beside him.

The older midfielder took a sip from his own cup, watching Nathan from the corner of his eye.

"You know," he began quietly, "you don't have to carry the world alone."

Nathan didn't answer.

Valverde leaned against the counter.

"This is football. Not the end of life."

A pause.

Nathan's hand gripped the cup tighter.

"…I know."

His voice was... Dry.

"But I felt like dead weight. Like I let you all down."

The words were more vulnerable than anything he'd ever said in the media. Because this wasn't for the cameras. This was truth.

Valverde's reply came without hesitation.

"You didn't."

He set his cup down.

Then turned to face Nathan.

"You're the reason we even got here."

Another pause—just as Bruno walked in.

The captain's shirt was half-tucked, hair still wet from the shower. He looked from Valverde to Nathan and exhaled.

"You're not taking this blame alone," he said firmly. "We're a team. We win together. We lose together."

Nathan glanced at him. His lips twitched—but no words came.

Then, unexpectedly, Valverde smirked.

"You know what?" he said, arms crossed. "If you shoot the ball to the moon next time…"

Nathan blinked.

Valverde grinned.

"I'll go fetch it myself."

For the first time since Madrid, a soft sound escaped Nathan.

He chuckled.

Bruno raised an eyebrow. "You laughing, Perry? That a miracle I hear?"

"Maybe," Nathan muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Demir poked his head in from the corridor. "If we're telling jokes in the coffee room, I'm calling Amorim."

Valverde stepped out, patting Nathan's shoulder on the way.

"Just don't bottle it all up," he said quietly. "We still need you. You hear me?"

Nathan nodded once.

He turned back to the coffee machine, grabbed his cup.

And finally… took a sip.

–––––

Outside, the clouds hadn't broken yet.

But they would.

Soon.

Nathan walked into the locker room, nodding silently at each teammate. One by one, they greeted him back.

He sat on the bench, laced up his boots.

As he tightened the final knot, his fingers paused.

He looked up at the empty training pitch through the glass.

And in his chest—beneath the bruises and the regrets—a small flame burned again.

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Boom. Boom. Boom.

Nathan could hear his own heartbeat over the roar of Old Trafford. The stadium was packed, red scarves waving like flames in a windstorm, thousands singing in thunderous unison.

"Nathan Perry!! Make 'em dance!"

He tightened his laces slowly, boots gleaming under the tunnel lights. Around him, teammates stretched, paced, cracked knuckles. But Nathan?

He stood still.

Focused.

Ding!

The world froze. Just for him.

A familiar translucent screen flickered into view.

[Congratulations!]

[You've acquired: Spirit of Luka Modrić!]

Nathan blinked.

A slow grin spread across his face.

"Woah… Modrić's passing? This is gonna be a party."

–––––

Matchday – Manchester United vs Crystal PalacePremier League – Round 34Old Trafford – Under the lights

The moment the whistle blew, United pressed forward like hounds scenting blood.

Valverde darted forward. Bruno shifted laterally. Zirkzee dragged defenders wide.

Nathan danced in the pockets between midfield and defense.

7th minute.

He dropped deep, pulled in a Palace midfielder, then popped a quick one-two with Valverde.

Tap! Tap!He surged forward. Crystal Palace's line panicked—too high, too flat.

Nathan saw it.

Swoosh!

A perfectly weighted through ball split the back line.

Demir sprinted onto it like a bullet. One touch, then—Thump!

Goal.

Old Trafford erupted.

"1–0! Demir scores! But my word, what a pass from Nathan Perry!"

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41st minute.

Crystal Palace tried to fight back. Press higher. Push their wingers forward.

Mistake.

Nathan dropped between the center-backs, arms out.

Martínez gave it to him.

He turned. Eyes scanning.

One look.

Just one.

Then—

Boom!

A long diagonal rocket, side-spin curling mid-air, slicing over five players.

Valverde controlled it with an outrageous touch, then—Crack!Bottom corner.

2–0.It was surgical.

In the dugout, Amorim didn't even celebrate. He just stared, arms folded.

Bruno turned toward Nathan as they jogged back.

"You playing chess while we're all on checkers?"

Nathan shrugged. Smirked.

"Guess I got Croatian in my blood today."

–––––

Final score: Manchester United 3–1 Crystal Palace.

Nathan walked off to chants and a storm of camera flashes.

–––––

Three days later – Matchday.

Brentford vs Manchester United.

The air outside Brentford's stadium was colder. Wind biting. Rain waiting.

The locker room was quiet—concentrated.

Nathan adjusted his shin guards when—

Ding!

The system shimmered into place again.

[Congratulations!]

[You've acquired: Spirit of Ousmane Dembélé!]

Nathan whistled low under his breath.

"Oh… now we're testing both feet."

Valverde glanced over. "You talking to your imaginary friend again?"

"Yup," Nathan replied. "He says I'm about to cook."

–––––

Kick-off.

Brentford came out. Compact lines. Deep block. Tactical fouling.

Tch.Nathan hated this type of game. Tight spaces.

But now?

He smiled.

32nd minute.

A Bruno flick. A Zirkzee dummy.

The ball rolled to Nathan, just at the edge of the box.

He took one step.

Snap!Cut inside. Onto his left.

Then—

BOOM!!

A shot arced into the top far corner.

The net rattled like a struck bell.

"Unbelievable strike!! Nathan Perry, take a bow!"

He ran toward the away fans, arms out wide. Not yelling. Just breathing.

He was back.

–––––

68th minute.

Brentford overcommitted. They were desperate.

Valverde intercepted. Bruno surged forward. Three on three.

Then Bruno slipped it to Nathan—

Full sprint.

The wind screamed in his ears.

He dipped his shoulder, beat one man, then chopped inside—

Onto his right.

Crack!

Bottom left corner.

Second goal.

Nathan didn't celebrate this time.

He looked to the sideline. At Amorim. At the badge on his chest.

–––––

Final score: Brentford 0–2 Manchester United.

Man of the Match: Nathan Perry.