Leo looked at the coordinates again, squinting at his cracked screen.
16th Ave, Redway. Eastwood.
The map showed a diner at the edge of the South District, where the city started to change into Eastwood's industrial zone. It looked like it'd take two matatu rides and a walk.
He stuffed the phone in his pocket and stood, grabbed his duffle bag and glanced around the small apartment. His mother wasn't home from her morning shift yet. He scribbled a quick note on the back of a receipt.
{Going to check something. Don't worry.}
…
The first matatu was packed. An old speaker behind the driver buzzed with loud music. Leo stood the whole ride sandwiched between two workers in overalls, one hand gripping the overhead rail as the van swerved through potholes.
"Redbridge Terminus! Change buses here!"
He hopped off quickly, checking the time it was 9:47 AM, he had just over an hour to make it. He jogged across the dusty lot, and hopped onto a second bus bound for Redway.
The next bus smelled like fried onions. Leo slid into the back row, trying not to bump his training kit bag against anyone.
A few kids boarded with footballs in mesh sacks. He watched them quietly, they looked excited and full of hope this made him remember having that once.
By 10: 21 AM, the bus dropped him off at a cracked sidewalk just past the South District sign. From here, it was walking distance. About ten minutes.
The buildings looked tired. Brick walls with peeling paint, old market stalls turned into garages. A few street kids kicked a flat ball near a fence, barefoot.
He followed the coordinates carefully, counting intersections. His stomach rumbled. He had skipped breakfast to save time, but the truth was that he didn't even remember the breakfast, his mind reeled on how to get registered under a club within 72 hrs.
Ignoring his stomach urge for something he continued following the coordinates carefully, nerves creeping up with every step, then at the corner of 16th Avenue, he saw it. Redway Eastwood Diner.
The faded sign buzzed, the door squeaked as he pushed it open. Inside, it smelled of strong tea, onions, and something fried. Fans turned lazily above tired red booths.
A few old men in faded jackets sat at the counter and a waitress leaned over the jukebox. Leo stood awkwardly near the entrance, heart thudding as his eyes scanned across.
That's when he saw a man in a dark coat, sitting by the window with a cup of tea. Leo recognized him instantly, not from fame but from presence.
Edward Grayson. Grayson looked up and gestured once with a nod, no smile or wave. Leo slid into the seat across from him.
"You found the place," Grayson said simply.
Leo nodded, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow.
"Wasn't easy."
Grayson's lips barely moved, "Football never is."
… There was silence for a moment, then without wasting time Grayson leaned forward.
"No promises, no quick cash, just growth. Real growth. If that's what you want."
Leo blinked. "That's your pitch?"
"I don't pitch," Grayson said. "I offer." Then he placed a worn napkin on the table. An address scribbled in black ink.
Hume United FC. East Hollow Field. East District.
"There's a three-day trial window. You start tomorrow at eight."
a@
"Always. But this ain't free entry. You earn your place. Or you walk."
Leo hesitated. He still had time left on the system's countdown, about @a 60 hours now. He needed a club or a guardian to register him officially before the clock hit zero. If he didn't register in time, he'd get stat-locked. No way back after that.
"Why me?" he asked.
Grayson took a slow sip of his tea, before turning to Leo, "You've got something. But raw talent fades fast without form. I can give you structure and discipline but only if you show up."
…
Back home that afternoon, Leo sat on the edge of his mattress, phone buzzing again.
Another message, he opened it slowly.
It read, {Star FC Recruitment – North District Showcase Invitation}
{Glitter, highlights, smiling coaches and One-liners like
"Fame loves the bold."
"Exposure Matches Guaranteed!"
Star FC. North District. Glitz, gear, money.}
After reading it, Leo didn't have time to think more about it because suddenly the system's voice ringed in his mind followed by a flickering holographic screen as usual.
Ding!
[System Quest: Choose Your Path]
[Growth or Glory?
Star FC – Fast Fame, Loose Structure
Hume United – Slow Build, Tactical Mastery
Hint: Legacy hides in discomfort.]
Leo stared at the screen. He thought of his mom, himself playing in the dusty street, losing at Silvercrest, the pit matches and the kid from yesterday who asked if he'd ever play again. Then looked at the clock, 58 Hours Left, h fingers hovered over the message from Star FC but clicked Grayson's contact instead.
"I'm in."
Almost instantly, a reply came through:
"Trials. 8:00 AM. East Hollow. Don't be late."
…
He pulled out the money from his drawer.
$10 from the first pit match remaining from the first pit pay, $100 from the next and $ 80 from South District.
He laid it out on the bed and counted it again, $190.
He stuffed $60 into an envelope for his mom, with a small note: Food and bills.
Then walked to a vendor two streets down and picked up a cheap training kit, short, T- shirt, socks and a tracksuit for $20. He slipped them into his bag,
He still had $110 left. Enough for transport to East District, maybe snacks, maybe gear repairs later, he checked the time again. 57 hours left.
Then in a low voice he mattered ' this has to work it has to.
…
At around 4:00 PM, the apartment door opened, his mom stepped in, looking worn out and holding a cheap bag of groceries. Before she could say anything, Leo stood up, his face nervous but hopeful.
"Ma… I got invited to trials, for a real club in East District. Hume United."
She blinked. "A club? Like… a real one?"
He nodded. "They're not big but serious. A coach found me after that match with the South team. It's not just some talk, Ma. I'm leaving tonight. Trials start early."
For a moment, Olivia didn't speak.
Then she pulled him close. "Are they safe? You don't even know those people. What if…"
Leo held her tighter. "I need this mom, Please trust me."
She let out a soft sigh. "You've always wanted this."
Leo nodded, "I'm gonna make it worth every meal you skipped for me."
She gave him a sad, proud smile. "Just… don't disappear on me."
"I won't."
He handed her the envelope. "sixty dollars. For food, rent, whatever. I've still got enough for transport and upkeep."
She opened the envelope, his eyes misty, then a voice from the hallway interrupted softly.
"You're really going, huh?"
Leo turned.
Mr. Wen. Their neighbor from two doors down. Lean build, always wore the same dusty sweater, smelled like ginger tea and faded tracksuit. To Leo, he was just Grandpa Wen, the man stepped in slowly, holding a metal lunch tin.
"You've always had fire in those legs," he said. "You ever wonder why you never broke them with those wild kicks on the street?"
Leo chuckled. "Because you told me not to aim at the fence."
Grandpa Wen grinned. "That too."
He walked over, set the lunch tin on the table. "Boiled yams, cabbage and extra chili. For the road."
"Thanks, Grandpa."
Mr. Wen's eyes rested on Leo for a moment longer than usual. "You were born for more than these walls, boy. Go. Show them why the street taught you better than any field ever could."
Leo nodded, the weight in his chest softening.
…
He zipped his duffle bag, stood up, and walked to the window. The sun was starting to dip, casting gold light over Eastwood's skyline, he stared at it for a long time. Then whispered to himself with quiet conviction
"This time, I build everything from the ground up."
He made one more stop at Jace's place. He banged on the window.
"Yo!"
Jace popped out, toothbrush still in his mouth.
"What's up?"
"I got invited to trials. Hume United. East District. Tomorrow."
Toothbrush dropped, "No freaking way!"
"Way."
Jace grinned. "You need me to hype you up, carry your bag, fight jealous teammates…"
Leo cut him short "Just tell Brick Mouth Benny to chill with the edits."
"Bro, you're famous now! You know how many remix videos I've seen? They put flames under your boots!"
Leo shook his head. "This ain't for fame. This is my last shot."
Jace held up a fist. "Then go punch it through the net."
…
Leo stepped off the Eastbound matatu just before dusk.
The air smelled different out here, less exhaust, more grit. The streets weren't cleaner, but they moved with a different rhythm. Fewer posters. More graffiti. Even the streetlights buzzed like they were daring you to keep going.
He adjusted his duffle bag on his shoulder and checked the location again. {East Hollow Field. Off Old Mill Road.}
He crossed the narrow pedestrian bridge and followed the main road, passing old garages, food stalls, and a row of closed-down storefronts.
Then the view opened up, a wide stretch of cracked earth and patched grass.
Rusty goalposts. Chain-link fencing and faded banner drooping from the fence
{HUME UNITED FC – NO GLORY WITHOUT GRIT}
Leo exhaled, 'this is it' then he smiled. 'This is home now.'
…
He found the small building next to the field, half locker room, half office.
Inside a lean guy with a shaved head and a hoodie looked up from a crate of old cones, as Leo approached .
"You Foster?" he asked.
Leo nodded.
"Coach Gray said you'd show. You'll bunk at the Eastwood housing for now. We got a deal with the school hostel three blocks down. Shared room. You'll be with Kael. Don't touch his music player."
Leo blinked. "Okay…"
"Food vouchers too. Two per day. Don't lose 'em. Coach Grayson will skin you if you ask for more."
"Understood."
The guy paused, then offered a crooked smile. "Welcome to Hume. Training starts at 8. Don't be late. And uh… bring extra socks. You'll need 'em."
Leo nodded again, then followed the small path to the hostel.
…
His new room was small, with one bunk bed, one cracked mirror and a desk with scribbles carved into it.
He dropped his bag and sat on the edge of the bed, letting the silence settle in. There were no fans screaming here, no branded kits or scouts flashing contracts but he didn't mind.
He dropped his bag, took off his shoes, and flopped on the bed. He lay back, pulled the blanket over his legs, and stared at the ceiling. Then a familiar sound brought his thoughts back.
Ding!
[System Update: Player has entered Recognized Training Facility]
[Stat Progression Tracking Activated – Manual Allocation Enabled]
[72-Hour Registration Countdown: 49 Hours Remaining]
Leo stared at the screen, his eyes narrowing, them he whispered to himself, 'tomorrow, it starts, no more benches, just the grind and maybe… legacy.'