Chapter 20 - LEEDS VS NORWICH
The locker room was thick with tension.
A low hum of voices. The occasional sharp clatter of studs against tile. The muffled roar of the crowd beyond the tunnel — distant, yet pulsing like a war drum.
Nathan sat silently, hunched forward on the edge of the bench, eyes lowered as he laced his boots with calm precision. He could feel the storm rising around him. Not fear. Not nerves. Just… clarity.
His breathing was steady. Each inhale slow and deep, his chest rising with the weight of the moment. The final loop of his laces tightened. He exhaled.
Then — Ding!
A soft, mechanical chime echoed in his mind.
[You can unlock a new skill for 50 Legend Points.]
[Random Unlock?]
[Skill Unlocked: Ronaldinho Dribble]
He blinked.
And then the corner of his mouth twitched.
A second later, he was on his feet, punching the air with a wild grin. "Yesss! Finally, something worth it!"
"I got the Ronaldinho Dribble skill…" Nathan breathed, eyes gleaming. "Tonight's not going to be normal."
---
The squad surged into motion, the low clatter of boots echoing down the corridor as the players filed into position.
Nathan stepped into the tunnel, heart pounding, blood hot. The wind tunneled in from the open stadium, biting and raw, but he didn't flinch.
The stadium erupted as they stepped onto the pitch — a thunderous, rolling wave of sound that rattled the air.
Boom!
The kickoff came like a gunshot.
Norwich came out aggressive. No surprise there — they were fast, technical, and ruthless when they smelled blood. Their pressing was suffocating. Passes had to be one-touch. Every decision, instant. Every mistake, punished.
But Nathan… was dancing.
Every touch felt alive.
The ball stuck to his foot like it had no interest in leaving him. His hips moved like water, slipping between defenders with no wasted motion. A fake here — flick there — then a spin, and suddenly two markers were left behind, blinking at the space he used to be in.
"OHHH!" The crowd gasped as he nutmegged the Norwich captain near the sideline with a no-look roll.
"WHAT was that?!" Marco yelled from midfield, barely keeping up.
Nathan smiled without answering. His body knew things his mind hadn't learned yet — feints that flowed like jazz, rhythm born of instinct.
But then—
THUNK!
A misplaced pass from the back.
The ball bounced awkwardly across the defensive line. Leeds' center-back hesitated — just for a split-second.
Too long.
Norwich's striker pounced like a wolf. A blur of yellow and green streaked past the defender, boot slicing low.
Crack!
The shot zipped under the keeper's arm, straight into the bottom corner.
GOAL.
The away fans exploded in the far corner of the stadium. But everywhere else?
Silence.
Grayson slapped his head with both hands. "A rookie mistake!!" he barked.
Leeds 0 - Norwich 1.
Minute 34.
At home.
Nathan stood still near the center circle, his jaw tight.
He wasn't angry.
He was burning.
Not at the defender. Not at the mistake.
But at how quickly the tide could turn. One lapse. One breath too slow. And everything you'd worked for threatened to fall apart.
He glanced at the scoreboard. The red glow of the numbers seared into his brain.
There was too much riding on this match — not just points, not just standings.
Reputation. Progress. Identity.
They had clawed their way into the title race. They couldn't fall now.
A few teammates let their shoulders sag. Others shouted, trying to raise spirits. Jamal Carter clapped his hands. "Heads up! We answer back, yeah?"
Nathan nodded once. Touched his chest. Felt the heartbeat. Still steady.
Still ready.
When play resumed, Norwich smelt blood. Their confidence surged. Their midfield tightened like a vice.
But Nathan... shifted gears.
In the 41st minute, he dropped deep to receive a pass.
The moment he turned, two defenders converged. But he didn't pass.
He danced.
Flick! — sole roll to the left.
Snap! — body feint to the right.
Swish! — shoulder drop, double stepover.
One defender stumbled.
The second froze, caught in the rhythm.
Crack! — Nathan exploded past them into space, leaving gasps in his wake.
"Oi, he's moving like a cheat code!" Marco called out, wide-eyed.
Nathan didn't hear him. His focus was razor-sharp.
He slipped a pass through to Jamal in stride — a razor-threaded through-ball that split the defense in half.
But Jamal's shot was dragged wide. Inches off.
Tch...
Nathan closed his eyes for a moment. Reset.
"Keep doing that," Jamal said, jogging past him. "Next one's in."