Zeph Noor woke with a sharp gasp, his heart hammering in his chest like the pounding rhythm of a distant drum. The dim morning light crept through his window, filtering softly across the modest room he called home. But something was different. The familiar walls looked strange, as if warped by a surreal haze that clung to his mind. His body felt heavy, yet his senses were razor-sharp — an odd mixture of exhaustion and alertness that made his thoughts scatter.
"What… what's happening?" Zeph whispered, his voice barely audible.
A voice, calm and neutral, suddenly resonated inside his head, clear and certain as the morning sun breaking through clouds.
[Host]: "Welcome back, Zeph Noor. You have been activated as the bearer of the Legacy Engine."
Zeph's eyes widened. He sat up abruptly, gaze darting around as if expecting to find the speaker in the room. "Legacy Engine? What… who are you? What's happening to me?"
[Host]: "The Legacy Engine is the path to unlocking your true potential as the greatest athlete on the planet. This is only the beginning."
Zeph's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why me? I'm just a kid from Casablanca. I'm no one special."
The Host's voice softened slightly, as if sensing the doubt.[Host]: "Your current stats and skills reflect your true potential, but the Engine will help you evolve beyond anything you've imagined. Please state status."
"status"
A shimmering hologram flickered into existence before Zeph — translucent, glowing with a soft blue light. Numbers, bars, and icons filled the space, presenting a detailed breakdown of his physical attributes and football skills.
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Name: Zeph Noor
Titles: N/A
Age: 14
[STATS]
Strength: 9
Agility: 11
Stamina: 8
Speed: 12
[SKILLS – Category: Football]
Tempo Control: C>C+
Passing: C>B
Shooting: D>A
Ball Control: C>S
Dribbling: D>A
Defending: D>C
[PLAYER CARD]
Rohnaldhino(Lengendary)
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*A/N: the each class has 3 sub levels A-, A, A+ and SSS- is where Ronaldo and Messi are at and please do give me input if you have something to say or improve the story*
Zeph stared at the floating data, blinking in disbelief. His strengths and weaknesses laid bare in glowing text, while a legendary player's name flashed at the corner. "Is this really me?" he whispered, the weight of it settling deep into his chest.
[Host]: "These stats are accurate. Your skills show your current level but are far from your peak. The Legacy Engine will guide your progress through training, matches, and completing trophies. Your immediate goal is football: break every record, win every major trophy, and complete the football trophy tree. Then, other sports will become available."
Zeph swallowed hard. The pressure was overwhelming, but beneath it stirred a spark of hope — a chance to rewrite his story.
Before he could respond, his phone buzzed insistently. He glanced down — a call from Karim, his scout.
"Zeph, I'm outside. Ready to go?" Karim's voice was warm, steady.
Zeph nodded, though Karim couldn't see him. "I'll be down in a minute."
He stood, the Legacy Engine hologram fading gently, and began to prepare himself.
Outside, the air was fresh with the scent of blooming orange blossoms and city life. Karim's black car waited patiently. Zeph locked the door behind him and slid inside. The leather seat was cool, and the engine hummed softly as Karim started the car.
The ride to the airport was quiet at first. Karim glanced over, breaking the silence.
"You're gonna do great, Zeph. PSG doesn't make mistakes like picking players. They see the fire in you." His words were reassuring, but Zeph remained tense.
"I hope so," Zeph replied softly, staring out the window at the streets of Casablanca shrinking behind them. Memories of dusty fields and crowded alleys flickered through his mind — the places where he learned to love football, barefoot and reckless.
Karim chuckled, breaking the mood. "Remember when you scored that goal against the older kids? That dribble was magic. You've always had it in you."
Zeph smiled faintly. "That was a long time ago."
"Talent like yours doesn't fade," Karim said. "This is your time."
At the airport, crowds surged around them like rivers of energy. Zeph felt small among the sea of faces. His hands trembled slightly as they approached the gate.
Boarding the plane, the roar of engines filled his ears as the aircraft soared into the sky. Zeph stared out the window, clouds rolling beneath like an endless ocean. Alone in his seat, a flood of memories crashed over him — a flashback to when he was eight years old.
The dusty street near his home, the sun baking the cracked earth. A worn-out football, scuffed and battered, rested at his feet. Around him, older boys jeered, challenging him to try and keep the ball.
Zeph's heart pounded, but he focused. He dribbled past one defender, then another — his feet moving faster than his mind. The crowd fell silent as he slipped through the gaps, then scored the winning goal.
That moment wasn't just a victory. It was a promise — to himself and the world.
Back in the present, Zeph's fingers curled tightly into fists.
His pulse steadied. The journey was just beginning.
Landing in Paris was like stepping into another world. The city was vibrant yet cold — a mix of dazzling lights and shadowed streets. Karim drove swiftly through the traffic to the PSG academy, a massive fortress of glass and steel.
Inside, the training facilities were breathtaking. Fields stretched endlessly, and state-of-the-art gyms hummed with energy. Young players from around the globe moved like lightning, chasing the dream.
Zeph felt both awe and intimidation.
His first training session was brutal. Coaches barked instructions, and every drill pushed him past exhaustion.
He struggled but refused to give up.
Teammates eyed him curiously. Some nodded in approval; others whispered behind their backs. Zeph sensed the unspoken challenge — he had to prove himself.
But then, few days passed, and the unexpected happened.
One evening, Karim pulled Zeph aside, his face grim.
"Zeph… there's been an issue with your scholarship."
Zeph's heart dropped. "What do you mean?"
"The academy overbooked. They have to release some players. They're letting you go."
Bitter shock burned in Zeph's chest. "But why? I've given everything."
Karim's voice was low, heavy with regret. "It's politics. They don't value players from Morocco the same way. PSG isn't flexible."
Zeph felt crushed — betrayed by the very system that promised him a future.
But Karim wasn't finished. "There's another option. Sporting CP in Portugal. Smaller, less famous, but they want you."
Zeph's world shifted again. Paris, the city of dreams, had rejected him. Now he faced uncertainty in a new place.
The transfer process was a whirlwind of paperwork, travel plans, and whispered doubts.
Karim flew with him to Lisbon, sharing stories of great players who rose from humble beginnings. "Messi wasn't always the star. Ronaldo started small too."
Sporting CP's academy was different — quieter, less glamorous but welcoming. Coaches spoke kindly, and the training style was more technical, more cerebral.
But it was still not the same as PSG.