The Football Legends System

Later – Small-Sided Possession Drills

One-touch. No time.

Clack! Tap! Tap!"Switch!""Faster!"

Nathan spun past Conor Gallagher, popped the ball to Trent, got it back—Thud!—and twisted through a gap that barely existed. A flick outside the boot, and the ball was gone again.

Sweat dripped. Vision blurred. But he was flying.

Then—Crack!—a late challenge from Stones sent him staggering.

"Oy!" Jude snapped. "Chill, it's training!"

Stones held up a hand. "All ball."

Nathan got up with a grin, brushing grass off his shorts. "He's fine. Let's keep it going."

After the Session – Cooling Down by the Sideline

The squad sprawled out along the benches, chugging water and rubbing out cramps. Trainers walked between them, spraying ice packs and wrapping tight hamstrings.

Jude wandered over, tossing a towel around his neck. He sat down beside Nathan and nudged him with an elbow.

"Alright," he said, smirking. "Here's the deal."

Nathan raised an eyebrow.

"If you score your first goal in the tournament," Jude continued, "I'll let Lauren choose where we go for dinner."

Nathan chuckled, stretching out his legs. "You're brave. You know she's gonna pick some fancy rooftop sushi place where the menu has no photos."

Jude laughed. "I'll just drink tap water and fake a smile."

Nathan leaned back on his hands, eyes flicking up toward the sky. The sun was higher now. The day was warming up.

"Deal," he said. "But get ready—because that goal's coming in the first match."

Jude glanced at him, eyebrows raised.

Midday – Tactical Briefing

Back in the hotel, the team filed into the strategy room. The coaching staff had built a 3D projection model of Argentina's likely formation. Animated clips played on loop—Garnacho making darting runs, Nico Paz breaking through midfield, Carboni drifting between the lines.

"Watch number 19," said the assistant coach. "He likes to ghost in late, just outside the box. If you ball-watch, he'll punish you."

Southgate stepped forward.

"No fear," he said. "Respect them, yes. But fear? Not in this room."

His eyes swept the room.

"Because you've all done the work. You've all been tested."

Then his gaze settled, just for a heartbeat, on Nathan.

"Some of you are new. Some of you are expected to carry weight. But none of you are here by accident."

Nathan's chest tightened—just slightly.

Later That Night – Hotel Rooftop

The team had the night off. Nothing wild. Just quiet conversations, fresh air, the faint buzz of New York traffic far below.

Nathan stood by the railing, sipping on a protein shake and watching the skyline burn gold against the darkening sky.

He felt the door open behind him. He didn't have to look to know who it was.

Lauren walked up beside him, holding her own drink.

"Your phone's blowing up," she said. "Your dad called."

Nathan didn't respond right away. His grip on the cup tightened, just for a second.

"Didn't answer," he muttered.

Lauren nodded. She didn't push.

The wind caught strands of her hair. For a moment, they just watched the city breathe.

"You looked good today," she said after a while. "Confident."

"I felt good," Nathan said. Then, quieter, "It's weird. I should be nervous. But I'm not. Not really."

"Because you're ready."

He turned toward her. She was smiling—softly, proudly.

He smiled back.

Later – In His Room

Nathan lay on his bed, earbuds in, staring at the ceiling.

His phone sat on the nightstand, face down. The glow of the city crept in through the curtains.

Tomorrow, more training. Then press day. Then final tactical adjustments.

Then… game day.

He closed his eyes.

In the darkness, he saw the stadium. The noise.

He saw himself on the pitch. The ball at his feet. Pressure closing in.

And still—he didn't flinch.

A breath escaped his lips.

Haaaah…

He whispered to no one, voice low.

"I'm scoring in that first match."

----------

Miami was transforming.

It wasn't just heat rising off the pavement anymore. Flags waved from every hotel balcony. Painted faces spilled out of bars and cafés. The streets pulsed with music, vuvuzelas, horns, and chanting voices from every language on earth.

"Vamos Argentina! ¡Messi! ¡Messi!"

"England's bringing it home, mate—Saka and Berry? That's a cheat code!"

"This is history. One last dance for Messi... and maybe the first for someone new."

The sidewalks were a sea of color. Sky blue and white. Red and white. People danced. Hugged. Took selfies. Some just stared up at the digital billboards flashing above the arena:

ENGLAND vs ARGENTINA – World Cup Opener.

On every screen, two faces appeared more than the rest.

Messi. And Nathan Berry.

Inside the Team Bus

The air inside the England bus was colder than it needed to be. The AC blasted as if trying to freeze nerves before they reached the stadium.

Nathan sat by the window, head leaned lightly against the glass, headphones in.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Outside, fans lined the streets leading to Hard Rock Stadium. Some waved flags. Others screamed players' names. He spotted a few homemade signs—"BERRY #10"—painted with sharpie and pride.

It didn't feel real.

Not yet.

Saka leaned over from the row behind, a grin tugging at his lips. "Feels like we're in a movie, doesn't it? First match, World Cup… and it's against Messi?"

Nathan pulled one earbud out. "What kind of movie are we in, though? Drama? Action? Thriller?"

"Depends," Jude said from the aisle, legs kicked across a seat. "If I score first, it's a comedy."

Saka pointed. "Nah. Whoever scores first has to do Messi's celebration—arms out, chin up—but backwards to the crowd."

Laughter followed, but it wasn't light. Beneath it, tension simmered.

Nathan looked down at his palms. Slight tremble.

His debut on the world stage.

Coach Southgate's Voice Cut Through the Cabin

He stood near the back of the bus, one hand on the luggage rail, the other clenched in a fist by his side.

His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.

"This isn't just a match."

"It's a moment. For them, it's Messi's last dance. For us… it's the beginning of something. But no one plays alone today. Messi's not alone. And neither are we."

He stepped forward slowly, his gaze sweeping over the players.

"You're not just players. You're the hope of a nation. Play for your families. Play for your brothers on this bus. Play like it's the only match that's ever mattered."

------

The stadium gates groaned open. tens of thousands of voices rolling like waves through Miami International Stadium. Flags snapped in the wind. The colors of Argentina and England clashed.

And in the middle of it all… the team bus pulled up.

The doors hissed open.

Step.

Nathan Berry descended first.

This was the World Cup.

He looked up—at the tiers of chanting fans, at the cameras clustered by the barricades, at the bright blue stretch of sky that felt far too calm for a day like this.

"This is the World Cup…" he whispered to himself.

And then he moved.

Inside the Locker Room

It was cooler here. Quieter. But not by much. The buzz from the crowd still bled through the concrete walls.

Each player drifted toward their locker, each one alone in a shared moment.

Foden sat hunched over, tying and retying his boots, lips pressed into a tight line.

Saka leaned against the wall, watching a highlight reel on his phone—his own goals against Argentina from youth tournaments. Eyes locked, headphones in, the rhythm of a beat pulsing through his body.

Nathan moved slower.

He reached his locker and opened it with a soft click.

There it was.

🇬🇧 Nathan Berry – #10

He didn't speak. Just stared.

people expected you to carry something greater than your name.

He ran his fingers across the number.

Not long ago, he was just a shadow in someone else's story. The academy kid under a famous father. The maybe. The might-be.

Not anymore.

Southgate Entered

The door swung closed behind him with a Thud!.

Conversation died.

Gareth Southgate stood in the center of the room, arms behind his back. No notes. No board. Just his eyes sweeping across the room.

"Messi is great," he began. His voice was calm. Measured. The kind that settled into your chest and stayed there."But history doesn't belong to one man."

He paused. Let the words breathe.

"Every one of you… every single one… has the chance to carve your name into something eternal tonight."

He looked to the right. Then to the left.

"Saka. Jude. Foden. Nathan."

Nathan froze.

"Any one of you could become a legend."

Nathan pressed his palm to his chest.

Haaah…

He closed his eyes.

And then—like it was waiting for this exact moment—

Ding!

[World Cup Match #1: Initiated][Random Legendary Skill Loading…][Calculating football instincts… analyzing traits… syncing subconscious match awareness…]

---AUTHOR---

Thanks to everyone who made it to this chapter. If you're here, drop a comment I wanna see you all. Thank you! Much love