Marcus had never thought he would see Coach Davor like this. The man who once commanded the academy's touchline with a voice that could silence a stadium now sat hunched on a worn wooden bench near the riverside, his face shadowed by exhaustion. His tracksuit looked wrinkled, his eyes hollow. It was the look of a man stripped of everything.
Marcus approached slowly, his fists buried in the pockets of his hoodie. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The city hummed faintly in the background, distant traffic, the cries of gulls, but between them, there was only silence. Finally, Marcus broke it.
"Why did you want to meet me?" His tone was flat, but his chest was tight. He still remembered the night he collapsed on the street, the sting of the eviction mail, the way Kael's smirk seemed to follow him even in his nightmares.
Davor lifted his head, his voice hoarse. "Because I thought you deserved to know what happened to me. You've probably seen the headlines by now."
Marcus clenched his jaw. Of course, he had. Expelled. Disgraced. Supplier of banned substances to academy players. The words had been plastered across every sports feed the night before. He had tried not to care. But it did something to him, seeing his coach, the only man who had believed in him once, dragged into the same pit he had been thrown into.
Davor let out a slow breath. "Kael Veyron. Him and his father. They made sure I would never coach again. They fabricated evidence, testimonies, false transactions, fake footage. Said I was supplying doping substances to the boys under me." His voice cracked slightly, then steadied. "The academy didn't hesitate. They wanted to save face, and I was the perfect scapegoat."
Marcus' nails dug into his palms. He stepped closer, his voice sharper. "And what about me? Does this have anything to do with why I was expelled?" His eyes searched Davor's face like a blade pressing against a wound. "Tell me the truth."
For a long moment, Davor said nothing. He looked at Marcus, then away, as though struggling with words he couldn't afford to release. Finally, he shook his head. "No… both cases are different."
The hesitation before those words was small, but Marcus caught it. It sank into him like a thorn. His chest tightened, his breathing quickened, and anger spilled out before he could hold it back.
"That bastard." Marcus' voice trembled, his fists shaking. "What does this boy even want? First, he ruins me with that message, 'you will never know.' He laughs while the academy tears me apart. Now he's destroyed you too. What game is Kael playing at?!" His voice cracked, carrying a mixture of rage and helplessness. He kicked the gravel under his feet, the small stones scattering violently.
Davor lowered his head, unable to meet his eyes. "I don't know what game he's playing. But Marcus…" He paused, his voice weighed down by shame and sincerity. "What happened to you was wrong. Whether you were guilty or innocent, I don't know. But I know this, you were one hell of a talent. And I can't watch that talent go to waste."
Marcus laughed bitterly, a hollow sound. "Waste? It already has. You think any club in England will touch me now? I'm branded. Done. Forgotten before I even began."
"Not if you don't give up." Davor leaned forward, his tone sharpening, finding traces of the coach he once was. "Listen to me. I've seen players thrown into the dirt, and I've seen them rise again. There's a place I know, a place where players like you, the outcasts, the broken, get their second chance. It's not glamorous. It's not the Premier League. But it's where redemption begins."
Marcus frowned, his voice edged with suspicion. "What place?"
Davor's eyes flickered with something, resolve, but also secrecy. "Not now. You'll know when the time is right. For now, you train. You polish your game. You get stronger. And when the moment comes, I'll take you there. Redemption for you… and maybe for me too."
Marcus stared at him, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. He wanted to shout, to demand more, but instead he said through gritted teeth, "You're asking me to wait. To suffer. Again."
"I'm asking you to fight," Davor said firmly. "If you stop now, Kael wins. If you push, if you sharpen yourself into a blade… then when the time comes, you'll cut him down."
The words lodged inside Marcus. He hated how much they rang true. His knuckles ached from clenching too hard. He swallowed back the storm inside him, then spoke, quieter this time.
"I have been training," he admitted. "At my old school ground. Every day. But… there's something I need to tell you."
Davor raised an eyebrow, curious. Marcus hesitated, then let the truth spill out.
"That night, when I collapsed on the street… something happened. When I woke up, I saw kids playing football with my ball. One of them did a trivella. And somehow... somehow... I felt it in my body. Like I had already done it a hundred times. When I tried it myself… it just happened. Perfect. Clean." He stopped, his voice trembling with the memory. "Later, in a friendly with those kids, I saw one of them nutmeg a defender. And again, it was like my body remembered it before I even tried. I pulled it off. Perfectly."
He looked Davor in the eye, desperate to be believed. "I can copy skills. Skills I've never trained. I don't know why, or how, but it's real."
For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Then Davor chuckled, shaking his head. "Marcus, you've got to be kidding me. The eviction, the shame, it's messing with your head. You're imagining things."
"I'm not!" Marcus' voice cut through the quiet, sharp and raw. His hands trembled as he balled them into fists. "I know what I felt. I know what I did. You think I'd lie about this? That I'd cling to some fantasy just to survive?" He stepped closer, his eyes burning. "No. This is real. And I'll prove it."
Davor's smirk faded as he saw the seriousness in Marcus' gaze. His voice softened, uncertain. "Marcus…"
"Follow me." Marcus' tone left no room for argument. His chest heaved with determination, his eyes locked onto the coach's. "I'll show you what I got that night. The night I lost everything."
The river's current rushed faintly in the background, carrying the weight of silence between them. Davor didn't answer, but Marcus knew he would follow. He had to.
Because this was no longer just about redemption.
It was about proving that Marcus Hale was not done.