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Lio stood alone at the penalty mark as his heart pounded like a war drum in his chest.
His cleats dug into the ground, and he felt every blade of grass beneath his feet, each one vibrating with the energy of the crowd. Thousands of eyes were on him, burning with expectation, hope, and the desperate hunger for victory.
The roar from the stands was deafening, like the sound of a crashing wave that threatened to sweep him away.
His breath came out in clouds, visible even under the bright stadium lights.
The chill of the night air pressed against his skin, and he could feel a heavy weight on his shoulders that made his every step tasking.
He had dreamed of this his whole life—a shot that could secure his team the championship and secure his future.
A shot that could take him from the minor leagues and thrust him onto the world stage, into the realm of legends.
But this was no ordinary shot, no ordinary game.
Across from him, the opposing goalkeeper, petre "The Phantom" zect , was already in position. Zect was a formidable opponent, known for his supernatural reflexes that allowed him to phase-shift momentarily, making him appear in one place and then instantly in another.
No striker had ever beaten him in a one-on-one penalty shot. He stood still now, his eyes glowing with a faint, eerie blue light.
His grin was predatory, knowing, and he radiated a cold confidence that sent a chill down Lio's spine.
Lio's own ability, "Thunderstrike," had always served him well.
It allowed him to channel kinetic energy through his leg, giving his shots an unstoppable speed and power. He had used it countless times to bend the ball in impossible trajectories, to strike with such force that goalkeepers simply couldn't react.
It was his signature move, his secret weapon—the reason scouts from the major leagues were here today, watching.
He glanced at the sidelines. The scouts were there, sitting with an air of quiet intensity. This was his chance. If he could score, he would be recruited into a bigger team, a ticket to fame, glory, and a future he had only dared to dream of.
Lio closed his eyes for a moment, steadying his breath, feeling the familiar pulse of energy building in his leg. He could sense it—like a storm gathering in his muscles, a crackling surge ready to be unleashed.
He opened his eyes, focusing on the ball, on the goal, on the one spot where he would send it, where even petre zect wouldn't be able to reach.
The referee blew the whistle.
Lio charged forward, his body coiled like a spring. He swung his leg back, feeling the kinetic energy surging through him, ready to release it in a devastating strike.
The air seemed to hold its breath as the crowd fell into a tense silence. This was it. This was the moment.
But then, suddenly, something went wrong.
He felt it before he saw it—an emptiness, a void where the energy should have been. His leg moved, but the familiar force of his ability was gone. There was nothing.
Panic reverberated through his insides like ice. He tried to summon the energy again, but his leg felt heavy, sluggish, unresponsive.
*What's happening?* Lio's mind raced. His foot connected with the ball, but it was a weak, limp strike—nothing like the unstoppable force he was known for.
The ball rolled forward, slow, pathetic, as if mocking him. He felt his stomach drop, dread clawing up his throat.
Across from him, petre's grin widened. The goalkeeper vanished for a split second, his body blurring as he shifted, and then he reappeared directly in front of the ball. With a single, casual flick of his hand, he deflected it to the side, sending it spinning harmlessly away from the goal.
The stadium erupted—not with cheers, but with gasps, with cries of disbelief and groans of disappointment.
Lio's teammates stared in shock, their faces mirroring the horror that twisted in his gut. The scouts turned away, shaking their heads, their expressions hardening into indifference. They were already losing interest, their phones in their hands, sending quick messages to whoever they had next on their lists.
Lio stood frozen with widened eyes as his heart sank into an abyss of despair.
His body felt weak, his legs trembling, as if the ground beneath him was crumbling. How had this happened? How had his ability failed him now, of all times?
Then, amidst the chaos, he saw him—his best friend, Chris, standing near the bench. Chris's expression was tense, his eyes darting nervously.
Lio's mind raced back to earlier in the locker room when Chris had handed him a bottle of water, urging him to drink it. "Stay hydrated, buddy," Chris had said with a smile that now seemed forced in hindsight.
Lio's breath hitched. He could still taste the bitter aftertaste that he'd dismissed as nerves.
He felt a sickness rising in his stomach, a dawning realization that struck harder than any blow. Chris…had he done something?
Lio stumbled back as his vision blurred and his thoughts turned into a jumbled mess of disbelief and betrayal.
He felt his legs give way, collapsing to his knees, his hands gripping the turf. His chest tightened, his breaths coming in ragged, shallow gasps.
The crowd's noise became a distant roar, the world spinning around him. The agents walked away with their backs turned. They had lost interest.
He had failed, lost everything in that single moment. His dreams of glory, of stepping onto the world stage, crumbled like ash in his hands.
Chris's face flickered in the corner of his vision, and Lio could see it now—the guilt, the regret.
But also, something colder, something calculating. Lio's eyes narrowed, anger cutting through the fog of despair. He wanted to scream, to shout, to demand answers, but his voice was lost in the sea of noise around him.
A hand grabbed his shoulder—his coach, pulling him up. But there was no comfort in the touch, only a firm push to move, to leave the field. He felt like a ghost, drifting, numb, every step heavier than the last.
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*Fifteen years later*
Lio stood in the dimly lit corridors of the stadium with the mop handle against his calloused palms.
He looked down at his reflection in the dirty water of the bucket. His eyes were hollow and his expression blank.
He was a janitor now, cleaning the floors he once dreamed of gracing as a champion. His uniform was stained, his hands blistered, but his mind was a storm, a raging torrent of regret and betrayal that had not festered even in the slightest within the last fifteen years.
He had been on the cusp of greatness, and it had all been taken away. Not by fate, but by a friend he had trusted more than anyone.
One night, as he was mopping the floors, he stumbled upon an old, dusty locker room in a forgotten corner of the stadium. Although after fifteen years the stadium had been reconstructed many times but this room seemed to have been left alone.It was the spot he and his once best friend Chris used to hangout,filled with sentiment of the Good old days when life felt easier, a hard bitter taste erupted throughout his throat and he felt a sudden wave of mixed emotions, pain, anger, disappointment. He couldn't stand it anymore as being in that corner was like rubbing salt on his wound, he turn around to leave so he could end his shift when a tiny gleam of light caught his eye, Curiosity piqued then decided to investigate more as he approached the light source, the light passed through the vent of an old locker and became brighter the more he approached it. He reached out is hand to open it up, as he gripped the cold and rusty handle of the locker he took a deep breath and opened it. It made a loud sharp screeching noise that made him squint his face. And there it was..... a strange, glowing artifact that pulsed with an otherworldly energy, and as he reached out to touch it, a blinding light enveloped him, while this happened he stood there with an emotionless face, thinking to himself "so my time as come?, I wish it had came earlier"........thinking he was about to die.
When the light faded
HUHNN?
Lio found himself standing in a familiar place, but everything was different. He looked down at his hands and realized they were smaller, his body leaner, younger and he could feel a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time.... it was the energy of his special move "THUNDERSTRIKE!". He was back in his teenage years, before the pressures of the world had weighed him down.
Confusion and wonder filled his mind. Had he been given a second chance? The artifact had somehow regressed him to his younger self, offering him an opportunity to rewrite his story. Determined not to repeat his past mistakes, Lio vowed to train harder, to hone his abilities, and to seize this new chance at revenge.