Chapter 2 : A Deal With Fate

His consciousness wavered, drifting between the past and the future, until the angel's voice called to him once more.

"Do you wish to be a footballer in your new life?"

The question was barely spoken before his answer came—"Yes!"

No hesitation. No doubt.

He had lost football once. He had felt the agony of standing on the sidelines, watching others live the dream that was ripped away from him. This time, there would be no regrets. He would chase the game he loved with everything he had.

The angel's presence swelled, as if pleased by his conviction.

"Very well."

A pulse of energy surrounded him, and the voice continued, carrying the weight of divine decree.

"For your act of bravery, for sacrificing yourself to save another, you will be blessed in this life. You will grow into a body of strength and grace—a physique built for greatness. You will possess a face admired by many, unmatched in beauty."

The words flowed over him like fate being rewritten, his new form already shaped by divine hands.

"But that is not all," the angel declared. "To fulfill your dream, you will receive a gift. A system, unlike anything this world has seen. A guide, a power, a force to push you toward your destiny. It will unlock on your fifth birthday."

A system? He didn't fully understand, but one thing was certain: this time, he wasn't just aiming for greatness—he would claim it.

As the angel's presence faded, so did his consciousness. The last thing he heard before being fully embraced by his new life was the whisper of fate itself:

"Become the best in the world."

His consciousness wavered, floating between existence and the unknown. He had just been given the truth of his new life—reborn as the grandson of Johan Cruyff, but orphaned at birth, with his father, Jordi Cruyff, gone, and his mother, Ilana Ivanov, having given her life to bring him into this world.

The weight of that knowledge pressed upon him, though he barely had time to comprehend it before the angel's voice called out again—calm, yet absolute.

"Do you wish to be a footballer in your new life?"

It was a simple question.

But for him, there was never any doubt.

"Yes!"

The answer burst from him with absolute certainty. He hadn't hesitated, not even for a second. There was no need to think, no reason to question. Football was his everything. The sport had been his passion, his identity, the force that shaped his very soul. He had lived for it once, and when it was cruelly stolen from him, he had suffered a fate worse than death.

He had died with regrets—of the matches he would never play, the goals he would never score, the trophies he would never lift again. But now, fate had given him something he had never imagined possible: another chance.

This time, he would not lose it.

This time, he would reach the heights he was always meant to.

The angel's presence pulsed, growing stronger, as if pleased by his unwavering resolve.

"Very well."

A sudden warmth surrounded him, unlike anything he had ever felt. It was as though reality itself was bending to accommodate his desire, as if his fate was being rewritten by divine hands.

"For your act of bravery, for the selflessness you showed in your previous life, you will be blessed in this one. You will grow into a body of strength and grace—a physique built for greatness. Your form will be powerful, your movements fluid, a masterpiece in motion."

He felt it happening already—the very essence of his new existence shifting, molding into something destined for perfection. A body meant for the beautiful game.

"You will possess a face admired by many, unmatched in beauty. Charisma, elegance—a presence that commands attention."

He wasn't just being given a new life—he was being sculpted into something extraordinary.

But the angel wasn't finished.

"But that is not all."

The voice echoed through the void, resonating with a power that sent chills through his soul.

"To fulfill your destiny, you will receive a gift unlike anything this world has seen."

A gift?

"A system. A force that will push you beyond human limits. A guide, a power, an entity that will shape you into what you are meant to become."

A system? The word lingered in his mind. He didn't fully understand it, but he knew one thing—this was something far beyond natural talent, something that would elevate him to a level no one had ever reached before.

"The system will unlock on your fifth birthday. From that moment forward, your path to greatness will begin."

His mind raced. He had been given the ultimate chance. A second life, a perfect body, and now, a system to propel him to the top. There would be no stopping him.

The angel's voice softened, its presence beginning to fade. But before it disappeared completely, it spoke one final sentence:

"Become the best in the world."

The words burned into his very being, a prophecy, a command, and a promise all at once.

And as he faded from the realm of the divine and into his new existence, he made a vow to himself.

This time, nothing would stop him.

__________

A soft breeze drifted through the open window, carrying with it the scent of fresh linen and the distant hum of the bustling city. The world felt warmer, lighter—almost unreal.

And then, he opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a pair of deep, wise eyes staring down at him, filled with something between wonder and warmth. Eyes he knew. Eyes he had once looked into on a stage surrounded by golden lights.

Johan Cruyff.

The breath he did not even know he was holding caught in his tiny chest.

Johan Cruyff—the genius, the legend, the man who had revolutionized football, the architect of Total Football. The very same man who had placed the Ballon d'Or in his hands all those years ago, back when he was at the peak of his career. He had admired him not just as a player but as a visionary, a footballing mind beyond his time.

And now, he was his grandfather.

It was overwhelming. In his past life, this man had been someone he looked up to from afar, an icon he had never imagined knowing beyond the brief moments their paths had crossed. And yet, here he was—holding him, cradling him in his arms as though he were the most precious thing in the world.

This was real.

As the realization settled in, his gaze shifted, drawn to the figure beside Johan. A woman, with soft features and a kind, knowing expression. He recognized her instantly.

Danny Coster.

Johan's wife. His grandmother.

A strange feeling stirred inside him. In his past life, he had never known what it felt like to have a family—a real family. He had been alone for so long, pushing himself forward through sheer will, relying on no one, because there had never been anyone to rely on.

But now… now he wasn't alone.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, something warm filled his chest. Something he had lost in his past life.

Belonging.

The weight of this new reality settled in, and for the first time since his rebirth, he felt at peace.

This was his new beginning. His new family.

And this time, he would not waste the life he had been given.

__________

June 7, 2003.

His birthday.

Three years had passed since the day he opened his eyes to this new world, since he was cradled in the arms of Johan Cruyff and met the kind gaze of Danny Coster. Time had moved swiftly, and now, on this special day, he found himself in front of a mirror as his grandmother carefully buttoned up his small white shirt.

"You're growing so fast, Nico," Danny mused, smoothing out the fabric. "Before we know it, you'll be running all over the place like your grandfather used to."

He chuckled softly, looking up at her with a bright gaze. "I already run a lot, Grandma."

Danny laughed, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. "That's true. But soon, you'll be even faster. Maybe even faster than Johan was in his prime."

He grinned at the thought. "Faster than Grandpa?"

"Well," Danny tilted her head playfully, "you might have to work a little harder for that. But if anyone can do it, it's you."

Dressed in a beautiful white suit, Nico stood before the mirror, gazing at his reflection. Even at just three years old, he looked striking—his emerald green eyes shimmering under the soft light, his silky black hair neatly combed, his porcelain white skin giving him an almost ethereal beauty.

Danny Coster clapped her hands together, her eyes twinkling with delight. "Oh, my beautiful boy!" she cooed, unable to hide her excitement. "Nico, you look like a little prince! No—even better!"

He tilted his head slightly, amused by her reaction. "Really, Grandma?"

Danny placed her hands on her hips, feigning offense. "Of course! Just look at you. Those eyes, that hair—ah, my heart can't take it! You're going to make every girl in Barcelona cry when you grow up!"

Nico chuckled, adjusting his tiny cuffs. "I just want to play football, Grandma."

Danny laughed, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. "And you will, my love. But that doesn't mean you can't look absolutely fabulous while doing it."

Danny took his hand gently, leading him out of the room and into the warm afternoon light. The sound of laughter and chatter filled the air as they stepped into the beautifully arranged birthday party—a celebration fit for a prince.

The garden was decorated with elegant white and gold banners, balloons swaying in the breeze. Friends, family, and well-wishers had gathered, all eyes turning toward him as he stepped forward in his immaculate white suit.

And then, Johan Cruyff approached.

His legendary grandfather, the man who had shaped football itself, bent down and hugged him warmly, his strong yet gentle hands resting on his small shoulders.

"Nico, you look beautiful," Johan said, his voice full of pride and love.

Nico, feeling the warmth of the embrace, smiled brightly. "Thank you, Grandpa."

Johan pulled back slightly, studying his grandson with an affectionate gaze. "You've grown so much already. One day, you'll be even taller than me."

Danny chuckled beside them. "And even more handsome."

Johan smirked playfully. "That, we'll have to see."

Nico stood before the grand three-tiered birthday cake, its surface decorated with delicate golden accents and the number three shining at the top. The soft glow of the candles flickered in his emerald-green eyes as the people around him—his family, his grandparents, and all the guests—began to sing.

"Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday to you…"

Johan and Danny stood beside him, their voices warm and full of love. His grandmother had her hands gently placed on his shoulders, swaying slightly to the rhythm of the song, while Johan, with a proud smile, clapped along.

Nico looked around at the faces gathered—some familiar, some new—but all smiling, all celebrating him. In his past life, moments like this had been rare. But now? Now, he had people who truly cared.

As the song reached its final notes, Danny leaned down and whispered, "Make a wish, my love."

Nico closed his eyes.

A wish?

There was only one thing he could ever truly wish for.

To play football. To become the best.

To live this new life without regrets.

With that thought, he took a deep breath and blew out the candles. The room erupted in cheers and applause, and as the cake was cut, Nico felt something settle deep within him—a promise to himself, to his past, and to his future.