The night was dark and rainy, almost 10 p.m. Despite the late hour, Turing School was noisy, with shouts of excitement and cheering coming from the gymnasium. A large gymnasium befitting a wealthy school like this one, with multiple stands packed with people, cameras near the court recording the athletes, and even a commentator.

"Only two minutes left in the game! A close contest between the Richter School team and our beloved Turing School team. A fierce 3-3 battle in the final of the National Youth Soccer Championship!" shouted the commentator, sitting at a table near the futsal court.

The crowd was frantic and deafening; the number of people watching the match was undoubtedly impressive. On the court, all the players ran as if their lives depended on it, the boys from Richter School in yellow and blue uniforms chasing after him, doing everything they could to stop the blonde boy who kept running nonstop.

The ball at his feet, controlled with the same mastery as professional players in the national league. One, two, three defenders advanced against him, only to be dribbled past without mercy, seeing nothing but a blur moving with the ball at his feet, giving them no chance to intervene. They only witnessed the speed and skill of that boy, who in a matter of seconds made a powerful shot with no chance for the goalkeeper to save it.

"It's over!" shouted the commentator with unparalleled excitement, surpassed only by the cheering crowd. "It's over! In the final seconds of the game, the captain of our team scored the decisive goal, finally breaking the tie! For the third year in a row, Turing School takes home the title of National Youth Soccer Championship!"

The Turing School players, wearing white and red jerseys, ran to their captain, a tall and handsome boy. They all gathered around him, their teammates praising him for how amazing he was; so many compliments would make anyone's day.

"You were amazing, Alex! Incredible as always."

"Yeah! How do you manage to be so skilled?"

"Dude, you dribbled past all of them, how do you do that?"

The boy stayed quiet for a moment until a smile appeared on his face.

"Calm down, guys, it's not that big of a deal. I just did what I had to do to win," he replied modestly, with a gentle smile on his face.

The celebration began shortly after, and while all the members of the Turing School team were celebrating, the captain found himself alone in the locker room. He was still wet from the shower, wearing only a towel around his waist, alone, just staring at himself in the mirror. His short blonde hair slicked back, the athlete's body wasn't very bulky but still strong for a seventeen-year-old boy. He just stared at his reflection in the mirror, looking into his own red and empty eyes.

After a few minutes, he got dressed, and instead of celebrating with the team, he left. Passing through the school gates, wearing a coat to withstand the cold rain, he was stopped by a girl. He didn't seem intimidated or scared, just curiously looked at the shorter girl, a beautiful girl with long brown hair who was carrying a bag.

"Elizabeth..." the boy said, surprised to see his best friend alone so late at night. She was standing on the sidewalk before the school, staring at him with her green eyes.

"Hi Alex, I watched your game," she said in a sweet voice, her gaze fixed on Alexander's face.

"You did, huh? And what did you think?"

She stepped closer to him, now just inches away.

"Everyone must have already told you this, but it was amazing. You were the best once again."

"Oh, come on, it's not that big of a deal, I didn't even play that well."

"Of course you did! You scored almost all the goals by yourself."

"I didn't do it alone; I had help from my friends."

"They just stood there, barely doing anything. You did it all by yourself."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I just... wanted to tell you how well you played."

"I'm flattered, but it's late, and I need to go," he said, trying to continue on his way, but Elizabeth stopped him, stepping in front of him.

"I wanted to give you something, but I couldn't because of the celebration." She pulled something out of her bag, a letter in an envelope sealed with a heart. This surprised Alex, his raised eyebrows revealing his reaction.

"What's this?"

"A letter. I want you to read it, but not here, at home, and I want you to give me an answer tomorrow. Can you promise me that?"

"Of course, I give you my word."

She moved forward and hugged him, which certainly startled him, but he reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her, and looking at her once again, with a smile on his face. After a few more seconds, they said goodbye, and the soccer team captain walked through the streets to his home while the girl went her own way. The rain grew more intense, making it difficult to see in the darkness, but he didn't stop.

"Four goals," Alexander muttered, his pace quickening with every second.

"Four goals," he muttered again.

"Four goals and those useless players did nothing. Forwards who don't attack, defenders who don't defend, a goalkeeper with no strength in his hands, useless, all of them useless," he muttered, his tone furious, his fists clenched, his expression full of anger to the point where his veins bulged. His eyes were empty, pale, lifeless, soulless. He took the letter Elizabeth had given him, staring at the heart-shaped seal on it, remembering the feelings the girl had shown him, feelings she had always shown him, and he tore it apart. "Boring."

It seemed like the fury in his body had calmed down, but he paused to breathe, perhaps because the cold was biting at his nostrils.

"Why... Why is everyone so useless? They keep praising me just because I do what needs to be done. It's boring. Today was the national championship final; I should be home. I missed the EverMagic event. It was supposed to be the war festival between all the guilds, a total war between the world's best, all those below me who want to take me down in one place, and I missed it! I missed it because I have to represent these useless people who can't even kick a ball. I missed something that would have been genuinely interesting. I'm quitting this crappy team; I'll find something interesting."

He muttered, stopping to walk and looking up. Even with the heavy rain, he saw the starry sky, the rare lights of the stars piercing through the dark city. It was something beautiful to see, even he admitted that, but something interrupted his observation—lights moving in a zigzag, strong lights rapidly approaching him, and when he realized, he was hit.

The sound of the siren was deafening, both ambulances and firefighters were there, working hard, trying to get the boy out from the wreckage. The drunk driver? There wasn't much left of him, just an arm among the crumpled metal.

One of the firefighters approached the edge of the car but stopped moving, a look of shock on his face.

"My God, you're still alive, kid? He's alive!" shouted the firefighter, holding a saw to cut the piece of steel that had pierced Alexander's stomach.

"Kid, what's your name? Tell me your name, keep your head up, don't lower your head!"

"...Boring..." Groans of pain.

"Boring? That's it, keep talking, tell me your name, can you say your mother's and father's names?"

"...Boring..." His face was destroyed, his body weak, his eyes empty, soulless, losing the little light they had as life left that body. "I just wanted... something interesting."

Alexander Loren, born on August 10, 2006, died on June 7, 2024. May he rest in peace.

"It's hot..."

A voice in an empty place.

"I feel warmth in my chest... But it's so cold on the outside..."

Darkness, darkness, and cold.

"I can't breathe... My chest burns, but I feel trapped..."

A strange sensation, stranger than that, pain, pain in his head, as if someone had hit him hard.

"My head hurts... Why... cold... heat..."

In that cold and unknown darkness, a beam of light appeared, he opened his eyes, only to witness a light bright enough to blind him.

"Shura!"

A voice could be heard, a strange distant voice, calling him, pleading.

"Shura!"

Calling out a name, calling for someone.

"Shura!"

He opened his eyes, no longer in the darkness, his vision still distorted, his head hurting like never before. There was something in front of him, someone, his hearing still poor, his consciousness nervous—it was a girl.

"Shura! Thank the gods you woke up."

He tried to raise his arms, but he couldn't. He could feel the cold rainwater wetting his face, his hands and feet were freezing. He was lying in someone's lap, he could feel it, he could feel the grass touching his arms and legs. He wanted to move, but his body wouldn't obey him.

"I... what... where am I..." he said weakly, doubt and confusion in every word.

"Shura, don't speak, save your breath. There's still blood coming from the wound..."

What was once a voice became an amalgamation of voices, all with the same tone, desperate, and worried.

"Shura!"

"Son!"

"Brother!"

It was still hard to understand what had happened, an intense cold in his stomach as if he could still feel the piece of steel that had pierced his stomach in the accident, but there was nothing there. Despite so many things and voices, poor consciousness, and poor body, he saw one thing. In the distance, shining, it was like a message, a large translucent square of golden and white colors.

[!!!Welcome, player!!!]