WebNovels

Chapter 12 - Chapter 12 : The First Spark

The locker room was alive with celebration. Boots clattered against tile, laughter filled the air, and water bottles sprayed like champagne. Players shouted, hugging the striker who had scored the winning goal, replaying the moment with exaggerated gestures.

Adrian sat quietly at first, peeling the damp jersey from his chest. He wasn't at the center of the celebration, but he wasn't invisible either. A few teammates clapped him on the shoulder as they passed, muttering, "Good work out there, Silva," or "Solid defending, man."

The coach's voice eventually cut through the noise."Three points earned tonight. Hard-fought. Everyone dug deep. Some of you," his gaze swept across the room, "finally started showing me you can rise to the level we need."

His eyes flicked toward Adrian. Just for a second, but long enough to make Adrian straighten.

The team dispersed into showers and chatter, the high of victory still buzzing in the air. Adrian stayed seated, exhausted but buzzing with a different kind of energy—one that went deeper than the thrill of a win.

Then he felt someone looming beside him.

"You didn't disgrace yourself," Ramos said. His voice was flat, but his eyes carried something Adrian hadn't seen before acknowledgment.

Adrian looked up, half-grinning through his exhaustion. "That your version of a compliment?"

Ramos smirked faintly, shaking his head. "Don't get comfortable. One match doesn't make a player. But you didn't crumble. You adapted. That's… a start."

Adrian leaned back against the bench, letting out a long breath. "Feels like I'm finally breathing out there."

"Don't mistake breathing for surviving," Ramos warned. "Next time, they'll study you. They'll come harder. You want to stay on this pitch, you keep building. No shortcuts. No excuses."

Adrian nodded, gripping the towel in his hands. "I'm not stopping."

Ramos studied him for another moment, then turned away without another word, his presence vanishing into the shower steam.

Adrian sat there, heart pounding. Not just from the match, but from what he felt—he was earning ground. Slowly. Painfully. But it was real.

That night, the city was quieter than the stadium had been, the streets nearly empty as Adrian walked home. His legs dragged with fatigue, his body begging for rest, but his mind wouldn't settle.

He unlocked his small apartment, the sound of the door echoing through the silence. Dropping his gear bag to the floor, he sat by the window, looking out at the faint glow of streetlamps.

The chants from the crowd still echoed in his ears. SILVA. SILVA. SILVA.

He closed his eyes, gripping the crumpled slip of paper Ramos had given him days before. The drills and the foundation.

Tonight proved something. Not that he was a star.

But that he wasn't a shadow anymore.

He whispered to himself, voice low but steady. "This is just the start."

And in the stillness of the night, he knew it wasn't the victory that mattered most.

It was the obsession to keep climbing.

---

The morning after, Adrian woke before dawn. His body ached in every joint, but his mind was already racing. He dressed quickly, lacing his boots tight, and slipped out into the gray-blue quiet of the streets.

The annex pitch waited for him like an old confidant, grass still wet with dew. The slip of paper was worn thin now, edges frayed from being folded and unfolded too many times. Still, he set it down at midfield like it was scripture.

Recovery runs. Shadow marking. Ball control under fatigue.

He threw himself into each drill until the chill of morning gave way to the harsh bite of daylight. By the time he stopped, his shirt clung to him, his legs were lead, but his touches felt sharper even his instincts felt to be quicker.

When he finally trudged back home, he noticed something different on his phone.

Headlines. Notifications. His name.

"Who is Adrian Silva? The breakout defender making noise in last night's win."

"Underdog performance stirs hope for club's struggling back line."

"One-game wonder or hidden gem?"

Adrian's chest tightened as he scrolled. There were clips of his interceptions, fans commenting, debates brewing in real time. Some praised him, others dismissed him, saying it was a fluke.

But his name was there. Out in the world.

By the time training resumed that afternoon, whispers followed him onto the pitch. Teammates eyed him differently—not hostile, not envious, but curious. A few nudged him playfully. "Look at you, Silva. Internet's talking."

Adrian tried to laugh it off, but deep down, the pressure coiled. One match had given him a taste of recognition. Now he had to prove it wasn't an accident.

As drills went on, he noticed someone else watching him more closely than usual.

Not Ramos this time.

Javier Cortez, the academy's golden boy. Forward, beloved, the kind of player headlines were built around. His smirk carried the ease of someone who had always been center stage.

During a scrimmage, Cortez drifted into Adrian's zone on purpose, testing him with quick turns and sharp bursts of speed. Adrian kept his ground, blocking passing lanes, forcing him wide. For a few minutes, it was nothing more than practice.

Then Cortez leaned in close after a challenge, his voice low, almost casual.

"Don't get used to the spotlight, Silva. One good game doesn't mean you belong in it."

He jogged off, leaving Adrian rooted, chest burning hotter than his lungs.

It wasn't just drills anymore. It wasn't just proving himself to Ramos.

Now, he had a rival.

And Adrian knew this was the true test—whether he could rise again when someone was determined to push him back into the shadows.

More Chapters