Chapter 16 Only those with true wisdom can transform the ordinary into the extraordinary

Chapter 16

Only those with true wisdom can transform the ordinary into the extraordinary

In a fantasy football match of this caliber, one thing was absolutely essential: a skilled commentator.

Someone who could keep pace with every play. Someone who understood the game inside and out. Someone whose voice could stir emotions and keep the audience engaged.

And the man chosen for this role was none other than Shambo.

"What the hell is this?! Having a player commentate his own damn match! There's got to be a hundred students here—couldn't you pick one of them? The teachers are free, aren't they? Why don't they do it themselves?!"

"Come on, the teacher has to referee. Plus he's old—his voice isn't exactly pleasant to listen to. Shambo's got that booming voice, he's done plenty of commentary work before, and he knows the game well enough. For a match between SST and the Three Great Houses, who else would it be?"

"If we're down to having players commentate themselves, might as well not have commentary at all!"

"Haha, Assarun, that's enough. We're about to start playing. I won't be able to concentrate if I keep laughing like this."

"Look at him trying to impress his bride-to-be with his jokes. Such a show-off. Honestly, I don't appreciate being criticized either, but for the sake of this new couple's love, I suppose I can allow it."

Professor Kwan chuckled.

"That's not what I meant!" I found myself cracking another joke.

"Alright then, I've got the roster and positions for both teams."

Before I knew it, Shambo had slipped on his headset with the microphone.

"Are you seriously going to play football and commentate at the same time?!"

"Both sides have made unexpected strategic moves. Starting with Team A—goalkeeper: Noah Newman! Defense: the most beautiful and happiest bride-to-be right now, Himura Asuka!"

"Midfield: the supreme striker of Anti Meta, the man who claimed the SST title through sheer madness, a genius born once in a century, the arrogant groom unafraid to wage war against the Three Great Houses, our beacon of hope—Assarun!"

"Why is it so damn long? Hey Shambo, you're adding your own commentary! Stop praising me for a minute, will you? If I lose, all these fancy titles won't help—they'll just make me look more pathetic."

"...And striker is myself, Shambo, loyal follower of big brother Assarun!"

Gasps erupted across the field, followed by a wave of murmurs and whispers.

"What?! Assarun's playing midfield?!"

"Shambo's playing striker... This is absolutely insane!"

I understood their shock. The person who should be playing striker—me—had dropped back to midfield, while Shambo, typically a defender, had moved up to striker.

"You should've been shocked the moment they decided to have a player commentate his own match!"

"As for Team B—goalkeeper: Sam Curtis. Defense: the Unparalleled Shield, George Strong Shield. Midfield: Student Council President, Flame of Acid Wind, William Burn. Striker: Beautiful Rose with Dark Thorns, Claris Rose."

His introductions were perfunctory, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

Not showing much bias there, are you?

"What about the stakes?" Student Council President William spoke up just as we were about to flip a coin to decide who would start.

"Normally, insulting the Three Great Houses carries the death penalty. But this time, let's make it exile from the city instead. Or perhaps you'd prefer to become our slaves?"

Slavery was definitely out of the question, but exile actually sounded interesting. My current living situation wasn't exactly ideal anyway, and this might give me a chance to move cities and escape the protagonist.

Losing might not be so bad after all.

"Fine by me," I agreed.

"Why overthink it? You don't have the ability to beat big brother anyway."

Shambo was showing off again, and his words carried across the entire field through his microphone.

"Hey, Shambo, you're still mic'd up. Everyone can hear you."

"I don't see a problem with that. It's good if everyone hears. When big brother wins, they'll be too embarrassed to back out of the bet."

"We Three Great Houses are all honorable. We have no intention of breaking any agreements," William's voice rose.

"So what do you want from us if you win, Assarun?"

Just winning would be a miracle in itself. I wasn't expecting anything beyond that.

"How about the same terms? If you lose, you choose between exiling yourselves from this city or becoming slaves to big brother Assarun."

"This is going too far! You want the Three Great Houses to become slaves?!" Claris interjected.

"Haha, you had no problem suggesting it for us, but now you're upset when it's turned around? Fine, let's not bet anything at all."

Shambo's mouth was really something. How had he survived this long without getting his ass kicked?

"No! We'll take that bet!"

William's eyes flashed with reflected anger as he glared at Shambo.

"With you as striker, there's no way we'll lose."

All composure and politeness vanished from his voice.

"Alright, now that we've agreed, let's flip that coin."

Professor Kwan intervened, seeing that neither side was backing down.

"Assarun, you call it."

"Heads."

Professor Kwan tossed the coin skyward.

"Heads. Team A gets to kick off first."

Once decided, William and Claris stepped back the required distance from the player taking the kickoff.

Tweet!

The whistle blew.

"The match has begun! A contest between the Three Great Houses and SST-level player big brother Assarun, with stakes as high as exile or slavery."

He was actually going to play football and commentate at the same time.

"Team A, led by big brother Assarun, gets the opening kickoff. Shambo taps it gently, and the game officially begins."

"Shambo, find some open space. If I get a chance, I'll pass to you."

There was no way I could dribble past anyone for sure, but having Shambo handle everything alone would be too much to ask.

My plan was simple: draw at least one defender, then pass the ball at the perfect moment for Shambo to score.

That was about all I could manage.

"Understood."

Shambo responded and ran off.

"Player Shambo is now making his run, breaking away from the pack. Looks like he's finding space to receive a pass from his big brother."

"Why are you telling them our strategy?!"

"It's the commentator's code of ethics. When I see something, I have to inform the viewers."

"It's not just the viewers! The opposing team can hear every word!"

"Haha, A-Assarun, haha, that's enough now."

Asuka behind me started laughing again. She was way too easily amused—everything made her laugh.

God, this was driving me crazy!

Forget it. Just push forward.

"Big brother Assarun brings the ball into enemy territory. He encounters Claris Rose blocking his path, and he slips past her with ease. Truly worthy of being big brother Assarun."

I got past her easily! But something felt strange. It was almost like Claris hadn't even tried to take the ball from me.

"Heh. Let that fool run looking for an opening."

William laughed softly, then rushed forward to block my path.

"I know what you're thinking, Assarun."

In that instant, George Strong Shield also moved to intercept me.

"Oh! Big brother Assarun is being double-teamed! The Three Great Houses fear his skills so much they're using a double-team strategy—two players marking one!"

"Even if you're Assarun, you can't be confident about getting past both of us. So you used that strategy to draw George, our best defender, away from his position, planning to face me one-on-one. But I'm not falling for your trick."

No, I wasn't thinking anything that sophisticated...

The weight of their expectations pressed down on me like a stone. Two against one—the mathematics of it stark and unforgiving. But in that moment, something crystallized in my mind. This wasn't about strategy or skill. This was about the simple truth of who I was when everything else was stripped away.

The ball felt heavy at my feet. Heavier than it should have been. Heavier than the stakes we'd agreed to. But sometimes the heaviest things are the ones you have to carry.