Chapter 1 - Daddy's Boy!
The sun scorched down on the turf like it had something to prove.
Final match day. The stands were packed with noise, sweat, and tension—parents shouting, scouts scribbling, and teenage dreams dangling by the edge of ninety minutes. Flags waved. Plastic horns screeched. And high above the buzzing chaos, the commentator's voice cracked through the speakers with that unmistakable blend of smugness and drama:
"Welcome to the Regional Youth Finals—where futures are made... or shattered. All eyes, today, on the son of a legend. Can Nathan Perry silence the doubters?"
Nathan stood in the center circle, boots tight, shoulders stiff, mouth dry.
He could hear them.
Every. Single. Word.
"Daddy's Boy! Daddy's Boy!" the chants came from the left stand, relentless and rhythmic.
On the touchline, Coach Tyler Perry stood with his arms folded, stone-faced. His presence loomed larger than the scoreboard, than the stadium, than the sky itself. Leeds United scouts flanked him. They weren't even watching Nathan—at least not like they were watching the others.
A rival midfielder jogged past and smirked. "Let's see what Daddy's training got you today."
Nathan didn't respond. He couldn't. He was too busy holding himself together, piece by piece.
They don't see me. Just his shadow.
Whistle.
The match exploded into motion. And from the first touch, Nathan felt... wrong.
His legs weren't heavy, but his timing was off. A pass too short. Then too long. A misread run. A trap that bounced away like the ball had a grudge. His own teammates glanced at him—some with pity, some with that same old bitterness.
"He's only on the field because of the coach. What a joke."
He heard it clear as day, even though no one said it out loud.
Nathan tried to reset. He focused on the basics—quick passes, off-the-ball runs. He wasn't playing badly. Just not enough to matter. In a game like this, invisible was worse than terrible.
A breakaway unfolded in the 34th minute. Beautiful triangle play down the wing. Nathan sprinted into space, arms out, yelling for it—
"Here! Through ball!"
But the ball didn't come.
Instead, their striker, Kamari, took a wild swing from thirty yards out. It flew into Row Z.
The crowd laughed. But somehow, somehow, it was Nathan they mocked.
Halftime. 2-1 down. Coach Tyler didn't even look at him.
And the commentator's voice rolled through again, loud and smug and merciless:
"Another invisible performance from Nathan Perry. Maybe coaching isn't hereditary after all."
When they returned for the second half, the tone had changed. Urgency gave way to fear. Every touch was tight. Every pass, too cautious or too desperate. The team couldn't find rhythm.
And Nathan? He was collapsing inside.
Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm just the coach's kid.
Minutes ticked down. The score turned to 3-1 in the 75th. Then 80th. Then 85th.
The 87th minute. A mad scramble in the opponent's box. A shot rebounded. A mis-clear. The ball rolled to Nathan.
Right in front of goal. Right there.
His heart thudded. Time slowed.
NOW. Just swing. Just HIT IT—
He struck it clean.
Too clean.
The ball soared up—too high—sailing over the bar, into the stands, past all the mockery and into the pit of his own failure.
"OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!!" The collective gasp hit like a slap.
Groans. Hands on heads.
The commentator didn't hold back.
"You cannot miss those… no matter who your father is."
Nathan stood there, frozen. His cleats sunk into the grass. The world spun.
His head dropped.
"I'm done. I've embarrassed myself... again."
And then—
Ding.
A sharp pulse echoed in his chest.
His ears rang. The stadium vanished into silence.
A glowing screen blinked to life in front of his vision. Blue, ethereal, impossibly real.
[Hidden Legend System Activated.]
Due to first-time activation, a random Legendary Skill has been granted.
Congratulations! You have unlocked: Cristiano Ronaldo's Shooting – Lv.1
Nathan blinked. He looked around.
Everything had stopped. The crowd, the game, the sky. It was like the universe was holding its breath.
Then—FWOOOM.
Time snapped back.
His legs suddenly felt light—dangerous. His breathing calmed. The panic drained from his mind like poison sucked from a wound.
There was only clarity. Like the roar of the crowd had been turned into a whisper.
The 89th minute.
The opponent, desperate to burn time, passed lazily across midfield.
Nathan surged forward like a shadow from the dark.
THUD!
He stole it with a clean, bone-rattling tackle that made the stadium jolt.
Gasps. "What the—?"
He didn't wait. He turned. Accelerated.
No hesitation.
He saw the goal. Thirty yards out.
Planted his left foot.
And swung.
BOOM.
The strike was pure violence. The ball curved with fury, kissed the air, and—
CRACK!
—exploded into the top-right corner.
The keeper dove.
Too slow.
The net rippled like it had been struck by lightning.
The commentator screamed over the crowd:
"WHAT A GOAL!! Was that—was that Cristiano Ronaldo?!"
The scoreboard ticked: 3–2.
The stadium was alive now. Wild. Chaotic. Hope surged like a second wind.
But Nathan didn't celebrate.
He jogged back, eyes locked in, breath steady.
90 +2.
The team pressed high. A turnover. Quick one-two.
Kamari—now humble—fed Nathan with a clean through ball.
He didn't even think.
He struck it mid-air.
THUMP.
Straight into the bottom corner.
3–3.
Teammates surrounded him, disbelief painted on every face.
"Who the hell is this guy?" one whispered.
Nathan didn't smile. He looked to the clock.
One minute left.
90 +4.
Corner.
Their final chance.
The ball curled into the box.
Nathan rose—above them all—like a shadow cast by the gods.
WHAM!!
A perfect CR7-style header. Downward. Powerful.
Goal.
4–3.
Whistle.
The entire stadium went silent.
Not out of respect.
Out of shock.
Nathan stood alone near the center circle, chest heaving, soaked in sweat. His eyes scanned the frozen crowd. His teammates looked at him like he wasn't real. The scouts? Wide-eyed.
Even Coach Tyler... speechless.
Then—
[Legend Points Gained: +100]
Nathan inhaled, deep and slow.
He looked up.
The pressure was still there. The judgment. The weight of the name "Perry."
But now… something else burned inside.
A spark.
A beginning.
He muttered, under his breath—but it echoed louder than any goal:
"Let them say whatever they want... I'll show them what a legend looks like."