Chapter 2 — A New Kind of Football
Amsterdam smelled different.
The air was crisp and clean, carrying hints of rain and the faint bitterness of coffee drifting from nearby kiosks. Julian Mattheus Côrrea Dos Santos stepped out of Schiphol Airport with a small suitcase, his Flamengo jacket zipped to his chin. His eyes were sharp but filled with quiet awe. The Netherlands was nothing like Rio. Everything here felt organized — lines, colors, people. Even the pigeons walked in neat rows.
"Welcome to Europe," he muttered under his breath.
[Tip: Maintain proper hydration. Climate adjustment reduces stamina by 7%.]
The System's voice — dry and neutral — broke the silence inside his head.
Julian rolled his eyes. "You couldn't just let me enjoy the view?"
[Enjoyment is inefficient without performance. You're not here for tourism, remember?]
He smirked faintly. "You sound just like my dad already."
The System didn't reply. It didn't need to. The screen hovering faintly in his vision flickered, updating.
---
[Name]: Julian Mattheus Côrrea Dos Santos
[Age]: 14
[Position(s)]: CF, CAM, CDM
[Rating]: 56
[Status]: Wonderkid
"EXP" (0/10,000)
[Origin]: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
[Current Club]: Flamengo (U-20s)
(Transfer Pending: Ajax AFC Youth Academy)
{Training Center} (Locked)
[Attributes]:
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[Attacking]: 81
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[Defense]: 29
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[Physique]: 69
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[Mental Fortitude]: 47
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[Skills]: 7
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[Auxiliary Attributes]: 62
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Current Quest: Make It Through Ajax Evaluations
---
The cab ride to the academy took forty minutes. The city outside looked like a painting — brick canals, bicycles gliding by, sunlight reflecting off calm water. Yet Julian couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't belong here.
He wasn't built for order. His football — his life — had always been noise, rhythm, impulse.
When the car stopped at the Ajax Academy gates, the red-and-white crest gleamed on the stone wall like a holy symbol. The guard waved him through, and as he stepped out, Julian exhaled slowly.
He'd seen this place in dreams.
Now he was walking into it for real.
Inside, everything gleamed — spotless pitches, glass training facilities, perfectly timed schedules on digital boards. He could hear the faint, disciplined thump of footballs in sync, like a metronome.
No samba. No laughter. No chaos. Just patterns.
[Environment scan complete. Tactical density: High. Creativity tolerance: Low.]
Julian grinned. "So basically, I'm doomed."
[Correction: You are misaligned. Doom is optional.]
He chuckled. "That's the best thing you've said so far."
---
The first session began with introductions. The players stood in two organized lines, names and positions called out by Coach Willem De Vries — tall, silver-haired, sharp-eyed. When Julian's name was announced, murmurs passed through the group.
"Flamengo kid?"
"Brazilian?"
"He's fourteen? He played U-20?"
Julian just smiled faintly. He'd been through this before. The looks, the whispers — they always came before the first touch.
The drills started simple: short passes, movement, one-touch control. Every motion was calculated, every error magnified.
Julian followed the pattern for about five minutes before something inside him twitched.
The rhythm was wrong.
Too slow. Too robotic. Too… predictable.
The ball came to him — he stopped, hesitated, then flicked it behind his heel, rolled it forward with the sole of his foot, and sent a curved pass that split two defenders and landed perfectly at the striker's feet.
The pitch went silent.
The striker stared down at the ball, then at Julian. Even Coach De Vries paused.
Julian shrugged. "It worked, didn't it?"
[Observation: Low-percentage technique executed with 99% accuracy. Tactical justification: Questionable. Efficiency rating: 74%.]
Julian smirked. "You're welcome."
The next drill began — pressing patterns, zonal coverage. He was supposed to hold formation, intercept passes, and reset. But when he saw an opening, instinct took over. He darted forward, stole the ball cleanly, and nutmegged a midfielder on reflex before sending a through ball that left everyone frozen again.
Coach De Vries blew his whistle sharply.
"Dos Santos!"
Julian froze.
"That's not the drill."
"I know," he replied, breathing hard. "But it's a goal."
De Vries's eyes narrowed. "Here, it's not about goals. It's about control."
Julian didn't answer.
[Advice: Adjust approach. Unstructured creativity yields resistance in rigid environments.]
He muttered under his breath, "So you're telling me not to be myself?"
[Clarification: Be yourself strategically.]
He almost laughed. "That's so Dutch."
---
Hours later, after drills and lectures on "positional geometry," Julian lay on the grass behind the main field, sweat glistening on his neck. He could still hear the rhythmic thud of other groups training nearby.
He sighed. "They play football like it's math."
[Mathematics is a language. Master it, and you can speak chaos fluently.]
Julian blinked. "Did you just make a joke?"
[Negative. Though statistically humorous outcomes are increasing.]
He laughed, unable to stop himself. "You're learning."
[Correction: Adapting.]
He stared up at the sky, the Amsterdam clouds drifting lazily. For a moment, Rio flashed through his mind — the hot sun, the chatter, the noise. Here, everything was quieter. Too quiet.
He missed the pulse.
But then he remembered something — the ball sticking to his feet, the way his tricks made defenders freeze, the little gasps from teammates when he turned impossible moments into brilliance.
That was his pulse. He'd bring it here.
[New Subquest Generated.]
Subquest: Adapt and Overcome
Objective: Blend Brazilian creativity with Ajax tactical structure.
Reward: Attribute Synchronization Bonus (+3 to all skills upon completion).
Julian sat up, reading the glowing text. "So even you think I can mix both?"
[Belief is irrelevant. Data suggests it's the only viable path to survival.]
He grinned. "Then let's survive beautifully."
---
Two days later, during a small-sided match, Julian's first real test came.
The Dutch players moved like gears in a clock — quick passes, perfect spacing, endless triangles. It was elegant, yes, but lifeless. Julian hovered between positions, his instincts pulling him forward, sideways, back again.
[Hold formation. Maintain your zone.]
"Just watching isn't football," he muttered.
The ball came to the opposing midfielder. Julian's body moved before thought. A flick of the hip, a stolen touch — the ball was his.
"Dos Santos, hold!" the coach shouted.
He didn't. He darted forward, weaving past two defenders with a smooth step-over, cutting right, spinning left. One defender lunged — Julian chipped the ball over his boot, caught it mid-air with his chest, then volleyed it into the top corner.
Silence. Then gasps.
The System chimed.
[Move Efficiency: 41%. Result Effectiveness: 100%. Spectacle Rating: 99%.]
[New Passive Skill: "Instinctive Improvisation" — Unpredictable movement increases chance of successful plays under pressure.]
Julian exhaled, smiling.
Coach De Vries rubbed his chin. "Dos Santos," he said slowly, "what was that?"
Julian shrugged. "Brazilian math, coach."
Half the team laughed. Even the stern Dutchman cracked a reluctant smile.
[Note: Humor increases social cohesion by 8%. Keep using it.]
Julian whispered, "You're tracking jokes now?"
[Only the successful ones.]
---
That night, back at his small dorm room overlooking the canals, Julian sat on the bed scrolling through his stats.
[Name]: Julian Mattheus Côrrea Dos Santos
[Level]: 2
"EXP" (1,300 / 10,000)
[Attributes Updated]:
Attacking: 81 → 83
Defense: 29 → 30
Physique: 69 → 70
Mental Fortitude: 47 → 51
Skills: 7 → 8
Auxiliary Attributes: 62 → 65
New Skill: Instinctive Improvisation
Subquest Progress: 24% Complete
He smiled faintly. "Not bad for the first week."
[Correction: Barely acceptable.]
Julian laughed. "You really know how to ruin a moment."
[That's my role outside training.]
He leaned back against the wall, staring out the window. The lights of Amsterdam shimmered on the water, quiet and cold.
"System," he said softly. "Do you think I can really make it here?"
There was a long pause.
[Analysis incomplete. But you're statistically the least predictable player in this academy. That's either genius... or suicide.]
Julian chuckled. "Guess we'll find out."
[Reminder: Training begins at 06:00. Sleep efficiency below 80% will affect stamina regeneration.]
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, closing his eyes. "Boa noite, coach."
[Boa noite, prodigy.]
The faint glow of the System faded into darkness.
Outside, the rain began to fall softly over Amsterdam — measured, rhythmic, perfect.
Inside, Julian dreamed of chaos.