Richard Blake exhaled sharply, hands on his knees, sweat dripping from his forehead. The humid Nigerian air clung to him, thick and heavy, as the scoreboard loomed above—2-0, 70 minutes played. His team, Phoenix Academy, was getting dominated in the semifinals of the national youth tournament.
He had played in plenty of tough matches before, but this? This was something else.
His opponents, Lagos Blue Strikers, weren't just skilled. They were brutal, pressing high, tackling hard, and suffocating Phoenix's attack. Every time Richard got the ball, they were on him in seconds, giving him no time to breathe.
From the sidelines, his coach was yelling something, but Richard wasn't listening. His focus drifted to the stands, to the reason why this match mattered more than any other.
Seated near the front row, wearing a navy jacket with the Beerschot VA logo stitched on the chest, was a European scout. Word had spread before the match—this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The scout was looking for raw talent, players with the potential to make it in Europe.
So far, Richard had given him nothing to be impressed by.
The thought sent a jolt of frustration through him. He was Richard Blake, the best damn attacking midfielder in this league! And yet, right now, he was completely powerless.
The match restarted. Richard jogged toward midfield, trying to shake the exhaustion from his legs. His breathing was ragged, and his vision blurred slightly.
Damn it… is this how it ends?
Then, suddenly—
[Ding!]
A blue notification screen flashed before his eyes.
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
Congratulations! You have unlocked your first Star Card.
[S-Tier Star Card: Kevin De Bruyne – Midfield Maestro] Acquired!
Richard's eyes widened as a strange warmth spread through his body. His mind sharpened, his breathing steadied, and suddenly—he could see the entire pitch differently. Passing lanes he hadn't noticed before opened up, movements of his teammates became clear, and every possible play formed in his head like a chessboard.
He clenched his fists, heart pounding.
What the hell… is this?
The ball rolled toward him, 25 yards from goal. Instinct kicked in. He took a quick touch, setting himself up.
Two defenders rushed to block.
He didn't hesitate. Left foot planted. Right foot swung.
The moment his foot connected, he felt it—the perfect strike.
The ball rocketed through the air, dipping violently at the last second. The goalkeeper barely had time to react. The net rippled.
GOOOOAL!
The stadium erupted. His teammates swarmed him, but Richard barely registered them.
In the stands, the Beerschot scout leaned forward, interest sparked.
Not done yet.
Minutes later, Richard picked up the ball near midfield. Two defenders charged in.
He feinted left. They bit. With a sudden spin, he turned right, leaving them in the dust.
Now he had space.
He glanced up—his striker was making a run. The vision boost kicked in.
He saw it. The perfect pass.
Richard swung his foot, sending a perfectly weighted lofted through ball over the defense.
His teammate took one touch, then smashed it home.
2-2.
The crowd went wild. The momentum had shifted.
Richard jogged back to midfield, adrenaline surging. He glanced at the system screen hovering in his vision.
WARNING: Star Card is temporary.
Time remaining: 10 minutes.
His heart skipped. If the effect wore off before extra time, what would happen?
In the stands, the scout was no longer just watching—he was evaluating.
Richard had one chance to prove he was Europe material.
And he wasn't planning on wasting it.