Debut

Richard stood at the edge of the Beerschot VA training ground, gripping his bag tightly. The crisp morning air carried the faint scent of freshly cut grass, and the hum of conversation among players filled the space.

This was it. No more hype, no more talk—just football.

Jasper had given him a ride, still buzzing with excitement. "Man, these guys are good, but I've got a feeling you're gonna shake things up."

Richard smirked. That's the plan.

Elias, the scout, approached with a clipboard. "Richard, good to see you. The coach wants to assess your level today, so just play your game."

Richard nodded. Easy enough.

The coach, a tall man with sharp eyes, called everyone in. "Alright, warm up. Then we split into teams for an eleven-a-side."

Richard jogged onto the pitch, scanning the players. Some looked experienced, others hungry. He was somewhere in between—new, but dangerous.

The session started with passing drills—quick touches, movement, scanning the field. Richard's passes were crisp, precise, and he felt some eyes on him.

Then came the scrimmage.

Richard's team lined up, and as the whistle blew, he felt it immediately—this wasn't some casual game. The tempo was high, the tackles were sharp, and the pressure was constant.

But Richard thrived in chaos.

---

Fifteen minutes in, he got the ball in midfield. A defender rushed in. One feint. One sharp turn. Gone.

He drove forward, eyes scanning the field. A winger made a run. Richard sent a perfectly weighted through-ball, slicing the defense open.

Goal.

The coach nodded approvingly.

A few minutes later, the ball bounced to Richard outside the box. He let it roll, then struck it cleanly with his right foot.

The keeper barely moved. Top corner. Goal.

Now people were watching him differently.

One of the senior players, a towering center-back, gave him a shove during a duel. "Not bad, new guy."

Richard just grinned. "Not bad yourself."

---

By the end of training, Richard was exhausted but satisfied. He had held his own, made an impact, and earned respect.

As he walked off the pitch, Elias clapped him on the shoulder. "Good first day. But this is just the beginning."

Richard smirked. Exactly.

Richard had barely stepped off the pitch when Elias pulled him aside.

"You impressed today," the scout said. "But now comes the real test—getting signed."

Richard nodded, but he wasn't worried. He knew what he could do.

---

Coach's Office

The head coach leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, as he spoke to the sporting director.

"That Nigerian kid, Richard Blake? He's special."

The sporting director raised an eyebrow. "You sure? One session isn't enough to judge."

The coach shook his head. "I've seen enough. Vision, passing, composure—he plays like someone beyond his years. And that goal? Top class."

The sporting director glanced at Elias. "You scouted him. What's his background?"

Elias smirked. "Raw talent. A little arrogant, but he backs it up. You'll regret it if you don't sign him."

Silence. Then the sporting director nodded. "Fine. Let's make it official."

---

Richard Signs His First Pro Contract

Richard sat across from the club's representatives, pen in hand.

The contract lay before him—his first professional deal.

He picked up the pen, exhaled slowly, and signed his name.

"Welcome to Beerschot VA," the sporting director said, shaking his hand. "You'll make your debut next week."

Richard grinned. Game on.

---

Back on the pitch, things felt different. He wasn't just some trial player anymore. He was part of the squad.

Some teammates congratulated him, while others sized him up. That was fine—he'd prove himself again and again.

During training, he linked up with the strikers, testing his passing range.

A teammate, a fast winger named Luka, grinned. "Damn, you've got vision, man."

Richard smirked. "Just make the runs."

He sent a perfect lobbed pass over the defense. Luka sprinted, controlled it in stride, and scored.

"Okay, okay!" Luka laughed. "I like this guy."

By the end of the session, Richard felt something solidifying.

This team was his new battlefield—and he was ready to take over.

Richard barely had time to process his first pro contract before he was back on the pitch.

Now, he wasn't just some trial player trying to prove himself—he was part of the team.

And that meant one thing. He had to earn his place.

After training, Richard found himself surrounded in the locker room.

A tall, muscular defender, Joachim, smirked. "So, you're the big new signing, huh?"

Richard leaned back. "You tell me. You were the one watching me from behind all session."

The room erupted in laughter, and Joachim raised his hands. "Okay, okay, I respect it."

The team's vice-captain, a midfielder named Jasper, clapped Richard on the back. "You'll fit in just fine."

Richard smirked. Of course he would.

Later that evening, a group stayed back for extra drills.

Luka, the speedy winger, nudged Richard. "Let's see if you can feed me those passes again."

Richard didn't hesitate. One touch. A weighted through-ball. Luka was in.

Goal.

Luka grinned. "Alright, I like you."

The team's starting striker, Tomás, crossed his arms. "Passing's nice, but can you finish?"

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Line it up."

Tomás played him a pass at the edge of the box. Richard took one touch and curled it into the top corner.

The squad whistled and clapped.

Jasper chuckled. "Guess we won't have to worry about creativity this season."

Richard just smiled. This team was starting to feel like home.

Over the next few days, the squad's chemistry built on and off the pitch.

Tactical drills, team dinners, locker room debates about who was the GOAT—Messi or Ronaldo.

"Ronaldinho," Richard had joked. "Man had the game on cheat mode."

By the time match week arrived, he wasn't just the new guy anymore.

He was one of them.

The crowd was electric, thousands of voices blending into a low hum of anticipation. Richard sat on the bench, his leg bouncing as he watched the game unfold. This was his first match as a professional, and he was itching to get on the pitch.

His team started with aggressive pressing, forcing the opposition to play long balls. Jasper controlled the midfield, dictating the tempo, while Luka stretched the defense with his blistering pace.

But the opposition was disciplined. Every attack met resistance. Every pass into the box was cleared before it could turn dangerous.

Then, disaster struck.

A misplaced pass in midfield. A sudden counterattack. Their left-back got caught out of position, and the opposing winger pounced. He sprinted down the flank, cut inside, and sent a low cross into the box.

Joachim slid in, barely missing the interception. Their striker took one touch—then another—before firing a shot into the bottom corner.

0-1.

Richard gritted his teeth. He could see the frustration in his teammates' faces. They had been on top, but one mistake had cost them.

His team tried to respond, pushing forward, but the opposition smelled blood. Every tackle was harder, every duel more physical. Jasper was muscled off the ball. Luka was shoved to the ground after a heavy challenge.

Then, another slip-up.

A long ball over the top. Their striker broke free, one-on-one with the keeper. The entire stadium held its breath.

A shot.

A desperate dive from the goalkeeper.

The ball brushed his fingertips but still found the net.

0-2.

Richard clenched his fists. The coach swore under his breath, his gaze darting toward the bench.

Then—

"Richard, warm up."

His heart pounded. This was it.

He sprinted to the touchline, stretching his legs. The fourth official raised the board. His number flashed.

He jogged onto the pitch, shaking off the nerves. The game had already become a war. Every touch mattered.

[SYSTEM ACTIVATED]

A screen flickered in his vision.

[QUEST: SPARK A COMEBACK]

Change the game's momentum.

Reward: Random Star Card.

Richard barely had time to process it before the ball was in play again.

A pass came his way. Immediately, a defender pressed him hard, shoving into his side. Richard shielded the ball, turning sharply before laying it off to Jasper.

Physical. Fast. Ruthless.

Every time he got the ball, someone was on him. He tried a forward pass—intercepted.

Minutes later, Luka darted into space, calling for the ball. Richard spotted the run and threaded a through-ball past two defenders. Luka took a touch, cut inside—

And his shot was blocked.

Richard gritted his teeth.

Another attack. Jasper sent in a cross. Their striker leaped—denied by the keeper's outstretched hand.

Time was slipping away.

Then, a moment of chaos.

A scramble in the box after a corner. The ball bounced loose. Richard reacted first, driving toward it. A leg swung at the same time. A brutal collision.

Pain shot up his ankle, but he kept going. He nudged the ball wide before getting shoved off balance.

The referee blew the whistle.

A free kick at the edge of the box.

Richard caught his breath as Jasper stepped up.

A tense silence.

The whistle blew.

Jasper curled it over the wall—

The keeper parried it away.

Richard sprinted forward. The rebound fell to their striker, who fired again—off the post!

Luka lunged—GOAL!

1-2.

The stadium erupted.

Richard barely had time to celebrate before he was running back into position. They weren't done yet.

Another attack. Richard received the ball and turned, his vision razor-sharp. He saw a tiny gap and slipped the ball through.

Their striker ran onto it, faked a shot, and cut inside. One more touch—GOAL!

2-2.

Richard clenched his fists. They had fought back.

The final whistle blew, and he exhaled sharply.

[QUEST COMPLETED]

Reward: Random Star Card Acquired.

A golden glow flickered in his vision.

His system had just changed everything.