Chapter 2: Chains of sadness

The skies over Caelwyn Ridge burned orange with the setting sun as Kael Drayden stepped off the hover transit and onto the cracked sidewalk leading to home.

The metal duffel slung across his back still bore the sweat of victory. His chest was light. His heart still raced with adrenaline, the echoes of the final whistle ringing in his ears.

We won.

We actually won.

The Valkyries had completed the greatest comeback in academy finals history, and Kael—he—had led it. Scouts from three major VSNL teams had approached Coach Ohlan after the match. Word was already spreading on Halostreams and sportsfeeds. Kael Drayden: the Shockline Savior.

The doors to his family's rusted housing unit creaked as he pushed them open. The apartment smelled of cheap burn-whiskey, old oil, and regret. Faint music played from a static radio in the kitchen. The living room was lit only by the flicker of the broken holo-screen, where a low-budget drama buzzed silently.

His mother sat on the torn recliner, a half-empty bottle resting on her knee, eyeliner smudged and eyes glassy. His father, sprawled on the couch in a grease-stained tank top, barely looked up as Kael walked in.

Kael's grin wavered but held. They're drunk again… But he still had to tell them.

"I did it," Kael said, dropping his duffel and standing straight. "We won. We beat Frostgard. I scored two goals. Coach said scouts asked about me."

Silence.

Then his mother let out a crooked laugh.

"You won?" she slurred. "Wow. Congratulations, superstar. Did they hand you a golden toilet too?"

His father barked a humorless chuckle. "That your big speech? You get all puffed up 'cause of a damn game?"

Kael's throat tightened.

"It's not just a game," he said quietly.

His mom stood, wobbling slightly. "Oh, it's not just a game, huh? You think you'll buy a mansion with a ball, Kael? You think the electric bill pays itself when you sprint around in tight shorts?"

Kael didn't answer. He looked down.

His father grunted. "What you need is a job. Real work. Welding, factory, food plant—something useful."

"I'm seventeen," Kael said, voice trembling, not from fear but frustration. "I just finished the best season of my life. I've trained every day since I was nine. That win today—people saw it. I matter out there."

His mother rolled her eyes and took another swig. "You don't matter, boy. You never did. Not in this house. Not outside it."

Kael froze.

His father didn't even flinch at the words.

"You're chasing dreams that aren't yours," she continued. "They belonged to someone better. You? You were a mistake. We never wanted a kid, especially one with your... fantasies."

That word. Mistake.

Kael's breath caught in his chest.

"I stayed," he said softly. "Through everything. I never asked for anything. Just support."

His father stood now too, cracking his neck. "Support? You want support?" He grabbed the empty bottle on the table and pointed it at Kael like a judge's gavel. "Then support us. Pay rent. Get a damn job. Or get out."

Kael's fists clenched so hard his knuckles whitened.

"I will," he said, turning toward his room. "I'll get out. And when I make it to the League—when I finally wear that VSNL crest—you'll watch from this couch and remember this moment. Every word."

His mother scoffed. "Keep dreaming."

Kael didn't answer. He stepped into his cramped bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He pressed his forehead against the cold wall, heart pounding—not from anger. From the deep, acidic sadness he'd grown far too familiar with.

No trophies lined his room. He had nowhere to put them. Every medal, every team patch, every picture of him smiling had been shoved into a trunk under his bed, hidden away like shameful secrets. His parents had never once attended a game. Never once congratulated him.

He lay on the hard mattress, staring at the flickering ceiling fan.

Yet… despite it all…

Kael smiled.

Because he knew what the scouts saw. What his teammates believed. What the crowd had roared that night:

He was good enough.

And now, summer had begun. Tryouts for the Super Nation League's development program—the VSNL Circuit—were just around the corner.

He had nothing but a duffel bag, his will, and the fire inside his chest.

But maybe… that was all he needed.