The afternoon sun of Madrid beat down on the Alfredo Di Stéfano Stadium, but the heat didn't seem to affect Chinglensana Singh. The roar of the small crowd, a mix of dedicated fans and hopeful scouts, was a distant buzz to him. All that mattered was the green rectangle of grass beneath his boots and the white ball at his feet. He was a ghost on the pitch. While his teammates in the Real Madrid Castilla squad darted with youthful, explosive energy, Chinglensana moved with a quiet, almost languid grace. He wasn't the fastest, nor the most physically imposing. He was the brain of the operation, the one who saw the game three steps ahead. It was a trait that had bewildered and frustrated him in his previous life, where his nuanced play was often lost in the chaotic scramble of Indian football.
Here, in the structured world of Real Madrid's academy, it was his greatest asset.A defender for the opposing team, a sturdy, broad-shouldered lad from Getafe B, lunged in for a tackle. Chinglensana didn't panic. He simply shifted his weight, a subtle, almost imperceptible feint, and the defender's momentum carried him harmlessly past. The ball remained glued to his foot.
Dribbling (Novice) skill check successful. +5 XP
A small, holographic window only he could see shimmered at the corner of his vision. It was his secret, the "System" that had inexplicably appeared with him in this new body, in this new world. He ignored the notification, his focus already on the next phase of play.He looked up, a quick scan of the field. His teammate, a lightning-fast winger named Borja Mayoral, was making a run down the flank. It was a risky pass, through a narrow gap between two defenders, but Chinglensana saw the opportunity. He saw the trajectory, the timing, the exact weight needed. He didn't just kick the ball; he caressed it, a precise, low-driving pass that seemed to defy the laws of physics.The ball threaded the needle, rolling perfectly into Mayoral's stride. The winger collected it without breaking his rhythm and slotted it past the keeper. A cheer erupted from the stands.
Passing (Intermediate) skill check successful.+15 XP
Assist! +50 Points
The holographic interface flickered again, updating his stats in real time. It looked exactly like the stat screens from the FIFA video games he used to play. His Player Card was visible, showing his overall rating and his individual skill levels.
Chinglensana Singh
Age: 16
Position: CAM/ST
OVR: 73
PACE: 75
SHO: 68
PAS: 78
DRI: 77
DEF: 52
PHY: 70
Every successful dribble, every well-timed pass, every perfectly executed shot added a small amount of XP to that skill's progression bar. Accumulating enough XP would allow him to level up a stat, and the points he earned from things like assists, goals, and wins could be used to directly upgrade a skill of his choosing. He felt a quiet satisfaction. This wasn't just football; it was a game he was expertly playing, a chess match against a board of opponents who didn't even know the rules had changed.
After the match, a comfortable 2-0 victory for Castilla, he walked into the changing room, a serene look on his face. He'd barely broken a sweat. The other players were a mix of boisterous celebration and exhausted collapse. They were good, but they didn't have his secret.As he was tying his shoes, a figure appeared in the doorway. It was Santiago Sánchez, the Castilla coach. The room fell silent. Sánchez was a man of few words, and when he spoke, everyone listened."Singh," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You have a visitor. Carlo Ancelotti."A collective gasp went through the room. Chinglensana felt his heart, which had been so calm just moments ago, finally give a lurch. Ancelotti. The first team manager.
He followed Sánchez out of the changing room and into a small office. Ancelotti was there, impeccably dressed, a small, knowing smile on his face. He gestured to a chair."Sit, Chinglensana," he said, his Italian accent thick but warm. "We have a problem. An injury to Jesé. A serious one. The club needs a forward. And I've been told you are... interesting."Chinglensana felt the full weight of his regression and his system collide. This was it. The moment he'd been waiting for, the second chance he'd been given. The door to La Decima was ajar, and Ancelotti was holding it open.