The Football Legends System

Next Morning – Carrington Training GroundVideo Analysis Room – 10:04 a.m.

Click.

The screen flickered to life. The room was packed. Players sat in rows, eyes forward. Amorim stood at the front—no tactical board today.

Manchester City in motion.

Possession.

Rotation.

De Bruyne drifting between lines, finding half-spaces like a chess grandmaster spotting a gap in a puzzle.

But Amorim didn't just show the brilliance.

He showed the cracks.

Walker overcommitting.

The gap behind Gvardiol when City pushed high.

The space between Rodri and the back line when De Bruyne surged forward.

Amorim tapped the pause button. A still frame froze on the screen: City's midfield shape pulled slightly apart.

He turned.

Not to Bruno. Not to Valverde.

To Nathan.

"They'll expect you to play like a typical winger," Amorim said calmly."Stick wide. Run down the line. Whip it in.""But you are not typical.""You are our key to winning."

Nathan stared at the screen.

But inside—Tch…

—

Training Pitch – Day 2

"SHIFT!" Valverde barked, pointing at Garnacho to close the space.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Zirkzee sprinted onto every pass like his life depended on it.

Bruno orchestrated from deep, eyes scanning, arms gesturing constantly.

The rhythm was brutal. No wasted motion. No soft drills. It was finals mode.

Nathan?

He moved—slipping into half-spaces, testing his body, testing his timing. When he cut inside, the defenders tightened nervously.

Tch—!CRACK!The net rippled as his shot ripped through it.

—

6:12 a.m. – Day Before the Final

Ding![System Alert: New Feature Unlocked – System Store!]

Nathan sat up in bed, heart suddenly thudding in his chest.

He opened the interface with a swipe of his hand.

A new section glowed at the top of the screen:

"Legendary Store"

Rows of glowing items appeared—each pulsing faintly with energy.

His breath caught slightly.

Stamina Bottle – (+30% energy for one half)Speed Bottle – (Boosts acceleration for a short period)

At the top:

Balance: 1670 Legendary Points

He hesitated. Just for a second.

Purchased: Stamina Bottle ×2 (500 points)Purchased: Speed Bottle ×1 (400 points)Purchased: Legendary Moment Card ×1 (750 points)

Points dropped to 20.

Nathan closed the store with a soft exhale.

Haaah…

He stood and walked to the bathroom mirror.

His reflection stared back—eyes darker under the lights.

No doubt.

No fear.

Only purpose.

"I'm ready—with everything I've got."

He looked down at the schedule stuck to his wall.

One word written in bold, red ink:

WEMBLEY.

—

Later That Morning – Closed-Door Training

Rain tapped against the rooftop of the Carrington dome as Nathan danced through a slalom of cones, boots squeaking on the turf.

He wasn't faster than before.

But he felt different.

When he struck the ball, the sound echoed:

BOOM!!

Ruben Amorim and the staff watched from the sidelines.

"His rhythm's back," one assistant murmured.

Bruno joined Nathan on the pitch.

"Final stretch," he said, stretching his arms. "You feel it?"

Nathan nodded. "I've never been clearer."

"Good." Bruno offered a tight grin. "Let's make it count."

—

6:42 a.m. – Wembley Morning

Sunlight crept between the curtains, painting soft golden lines across the hotel walls.

Nathan's eyes opened before his alarm.

His body felt light. Ready.

He stepped into his track pants, pulled the team hoodie over his shoulders, and made his way downstairs.

The dining hall buzzed now—but not with chatter. With presence.

Valverde sipped his black coffee with a scowl like it had insulted him. Zirkzee had both hands around a protein shake, his eyes fixed ahead like he was already visualizing his first touch. Simons bounced his leg, earbuds in, tapping his fingers on the table.

—

Wembley Stadium – Pre-match Warm-up

The air hit different.

Wembley didn't just host finals—it devoured them. It absorbed pressure and echoed it back in waves.

Red and blue filled the stands in perfect halves, like a war split across a battlefield. Flags waved. Flares burned. The chants crashed into one another.

Nathan! Nathan! Nathan!Haalaand! Haalaand! Haalaand!

Nathan jogged toward the far corner. The grass under his boots felt heavier than usual—but that was just his heartbeat.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He stretched, rolling his shoulders, rotating his hips—

Ding!

The system's glow burst quietly into his vision.

[Congratulations! You've fulfilled the requirements to unlock a Random Legendary Spirit.]

His breath caught.

A flicker of light.

[You have 200 points – Would you like to unlock a Random Legendary Spirit?]

He didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

[Skill Unlocked – Spirit of Neymar]

—BOOM!

A rush hit his brain like a sonic wave.

Creativity. Flair. Skill under pressure.

His footwork shifted subtly—more elastic, more rhythmic.

His center of gravity changed. He moved like liquid now.

He blinked. Looked down at his hands. Clenched his fists once.

"Now… I'm ready."

—

0th Minute – Kickoff

The referee raised his whistle to his lips.

A long exhale.

FWEEEEEET!

The FA Cup Final had begun.

Manchester United vs Manchester City.Red vs Blue.

—

2nd Minute

Rodri drove the ball through the center circle and laid it off to Haaland.

Thud!

Haaland didn't wait.

He turned, leaned into the shot—BOOM!

A missile from 25 yards!

Onana flew—arms stretched in slow motion—

"HAAA!"

BAM!He parried it away with both fists.

United fans screamed in relief.

—

5th Minute

Foden darted between the lines, his weightless turns making defenders hesitate.

Tap, tap!He slid a no-look pass into space.

De Bruyne burst forward—

But Casemiro was already reading it.

CLACK!

A ruthless challenge. Clean.Ball won.

The midfield general pumped his fist once, like a general reclaiming lost ground.

—

7th Minute

Valverde slipped a pass wide.

Nathan received it near the touchline. Walker squared up—low stance.

But Nathan didn't hesitate.

One touch with his left.Quick shimmy with the right.Then—a backheel nutmeg.

Tch—

He slipped past before Walker could even turn.

"OOOOOOOH!!"

The Wembley crowd exploded—red half surging to its feet.

Nathan surged into the final third.

But Bernardo Silva came in late—

CRACK!

His foot clipped Nathan's ankle. He stumbled. Fell.

Free kick.

Dangerous position.

Bruno stepped up to take it.

He whipped it with pace and curve—

Whoosh!Kepa dove—punched it away.

The game had begun.