The Football Legends System

A two-story villa tucked into the green edge of the city. Not far from a quiet town. A white-brick facade covered in ivy. A winding stone path through a wild but beautiful garden. A small river nearby, winding gently.

Inside, the air smelled like wood and morning sun.

Lauren wandered through the kitchen, eyes wide. She touched the walls like she was trying to feel the heartbeat of the place.

Nathan stood in the middle of the backyard, the soft crunch of gravel under his boots. A light breeze brushed his skin. Birds chirped from somewhere out of sight.

"This is it…" he said quietly, voice barely louder than the wind. "This is our home."

DING.

The system's voice echoed in his mind, bright and almost… cheerful?

[Achievement Unlocked – Your First Home!][+300 Legendary Points]

He smirked, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead. "Even the system feels safe."

That evening, as they sat on the back steps of their new home, the sun dipped below the treeline, casting long golden shadows across the garden.

Nathan watched the light reflect off the small river in the distance.

It wasn't a match.

But it felt like victory.

A different kind.

He stretched out his legs, letting his shoulders relax fully for the first time in… years, maybe.

"Do you think this changes anything?" Lauren asked suddenly, her voice gentle.

Nathan looked at her.

"No," he said. "I think it just adds something."

He turned back to the horizon.

"Now, I don't just have something to play for," he murmured. "I have somewhere to come back to."

----

The morning light spilled through the tall windows of Nathan's new villa, stretching across the wooden floors. Outside, the river hummed gently in the background, birds singing the kind of peace he never used to notice. He sat on the couch, one arm resting lazily over the backrest, the other holding a mug of dark roast coffee—strong, and warm.

On the TV in front of him, YouTube auto-played another clip: "Nathan Perry – Final Sprint vs Liverpool | Match-Winning Run."

The crowd on screen roared—YAAAAHHH!!He watched himself dart past two defenders, his touch tight. The cross whipped into the box—Boom!—a clean finish. Goal.

He smirked. Not bad.

Just as the replay slowed for a second time, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. Unknown number. British code.

Nathan blinked once, picked it up, and answered with a neutral tone. "Hello, Nathan speaking."

The voice that followed was composed, low, and unmistakably assured. "Good morning, Nathan. This is Gareth Southgate."

Nathan sat up slightly, heart pausing.Southgate? The Gareth Southgate?

"I'd like to officially congratulate you on being called up to the team's World Cup training camp."

For a full second, Nathan couldn't speak. His mind scrambled for words, for breath.

"I… I'm on the national team?" he finally asked, voice hoarse.

"I've been following your progress closely," Southgate replied. "Not just the goals. Your ability to shift momentum. Lead when it matters. We need that energy. We need you."

Nathan exhaled slowly, eyes darting toward the kitchen, where Lauren was preparing breakfast. She looked over, sensing something, head tilted.

The call ended with polite words and a schedule.

Nathan lowered the phone, still holding it like it might vanish.

He turned to her.

"I'm going to wear the England shirt…" His voice cracked. "Finally."

Lauren dropped the plate in her hand and rushed over, arms wrapping around him before words could.

The drive to the national team camp felt surreal. Southern London rolled by in gentle motion, but Nathan barely noticed the scenery. His thoughts were louder.

The England squad. The Three Lions. The badge he'd dreamed of since he was six years old, kicking a ball against the brick wall in his backyard, pretending he was scoring the winner in a World Cup final.

And now?

Now it was real.

He pulled up to St. George's Park, where luxury met legacy. The architecture was sleek, glass and steel balanced by pristine fields and statues of legends. There were press vans parked at a distance. Security. Quiet tension in the air—everyone here had something to prove.

"Nathan Perry?" asked a staff member at the entrance.

He nodded.

"Welcome to the national team."

Inside the changing room, it didn't take long before the noise hit.

"Oi oi! About time you showed up!" Bukayo Saka called from across the room, arms spread wide like they were old friends. "We've been waiting for you!"

Nathan laughed and shook his hand, only for Jude Bellingham to wrap an arm around his shoulder from behind.

"Stay ready, brother," Jude said, voice calm but charged. "We're gonna need that magic of yours."

Even Harry Kane gave him a nod from his locker spot. "Looking sharp. Let's see it on the pitch."

Nathan felt it again—that hum in his chest. Not pressure. Responsibility.

....

Training started sharp.

Everything moved fast. The drills were timed to the second. Movement off the ball was just as important as the touch. The coaches barked instructions, and every player responded like a machine.

Thud!Tap tap—switch!Whoosh—press!

Nathan kept up. Barely.

The technical drills tested his focus. But it was the tactical shape, the seamless interchanging between Kane, Saka, and Foden, that stunned him.

He saw passes before they were made. Knew where the ball would land seconds in advance. It was like football on a higher frequency.

But even here, something clicked.

By the end of day one, a familiar sound echoed in his mind:

[System Notification][National Team Bonus Activated – World Stage Multiplier x2][+500 Legendary Points pending on tournament performance]

A faint grin played on his lips.

Alright, then… let's go global.

Day two brought the small-sided game.

Southgate stood in the center circle with his arms folded. "We're splitting into two squads. I want intensity, quick transitions, and leadership. Perry—left side. Play free, just behind the front two."

Nathan jogged to his position, tugging on his bib. Kane was ahead of him. Saka wide right. Jude in midfield. It felt like a dream team.

The whistle blew.

Tch!

The first few minutes were cagey. High pressing. Tight spacing. The midfield battle was ruthless. Every touch felt like a spark about to light a fire.

Then… Boom!

A quick turnover. Saka burst down the right.

Nathan saw it.

He dashed forward, skipping past one defender with a subtle feint. The next one lunged in—Clack!—but Nathan danced around him with a perfect first touch, letting the ball roll just enough behind him.

Now.

He backheeled—Tap!

The pass curved behind the defense. Kane didn't need a second.

Curl. Shot. SWOOSH—GOAL!!

The net rippled. Silence, then applause. Genuine applause.

Even Southgate smiled, nodding to his assistants.

"Exactly the kind of player we've been missing."

Nathan let the moment wash over him. Not with arrogance. But with quiet pride.

He hadn't just survived.

He'd belonged.

That night, the team sat together in the players' lounge. Cards. FIFA on the screen. Laughter bubbling in pockets across the room.

Nathan leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the open window. The air was cool, laced with the scent of cut grass and ambition.

He checked his phone. One message.

Lauren: "Did you show them who you are?"

He stared at the words for a moment, then typed back:

"I showed them what's coming."

-----

The locker room buzzed with low voices and the rustle of gear bags. Somewhere in the corner, Declan Rice was telling a story—something about his first call-up and messing up a rondo drill. Laughter followed.

Nathan sat on the bench, peeling tape from his wrist, boots still on. He was starting to feel it—that rhythm. The hum of belonging. The weight of the badge on his chest didn't scare him anymore. It felt… earned.

Beside him, Harry Kane leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, calm as ever.

"You know," Kane said, voice low "my beginning was kinda like this. Everyone doubting you. Wondering if you're just another name on the list. But the moment comes—one pass, one finish, one spark—and suddenly, they believe."

Nathan glanced over, caught the slight smile on Kane's face.

He nodded. "I didn't come here to sit on the bench."

He pulled off his boots, one after the other, letting the statement hang for a beat.

"I came here to win the cup."

For a second, silence.

Then Kyle Walker let out a low whistle. "Man's not here to play tourist."

The room erupted—grins, head shakes, a couple of claps. But not mockery.

Somewhere in the room, Jude Bellingham chuckled. "Well, if he plays like he did in training, I'd back it."

Nathan smirked, trying not to let the pride swell too hard. But it did. Just a little.

The next morning, the team assembled in the media hall—no press, just players, staff, and Gareth Southgate standing tall in front of a massive screen. The lights dimmed. A digital map lit up.

USA. Canada. Mexico.

The 2026 World Cup spread before them, a constellation of cities and stadiums.

Nathan leaned forward slightly, eyes locked.

"This," Southgate said, pointing to the display, "is the road ahead."

The screen shifted—schedules, venues, travel dates. Then came the group draw.