The television flickered in the dimly lit living room, casting an artificial glow across the walls. Noah Ravenscroft sat slouched on the threadbare couch, a half-empty bag of crisps at his side, eyes glued to the screen.
The commentary boomed from the speakers, but it might as well have been whispers to Noah. He could hardly hear it over the roaring thoughts in his head.
Another year. Another golden generation.
And here I am… nothing.
The pitch looked perfect. The stadium, a cathedral of lights, echoed with the shouts of thousands of cheering fans.
The players—young, strong, blessed with talent that seemed unfair—ran across the field with the kind of precision Noah had once dreamed of.
But that dream had ended, brutally, in a single moment.
A sharp pain in his left knee flared as he shifted uncomfortably. That knee—the one that had betrayed him so cruelly—was still a reminder. The injury, the surgery, the months of rehabilitation that had gone nowhere.
Every doctor had said the same thing: "Your football career is over, Noah."
He reached for the remote and turned the volume down. The room was quiet now, save for the muted cheers in the background and the low hum of the refrigerator.
Noah leaned back and let his head fall against the couch, staring at the ceiling. The shadows above seemed to twist and writhe in sympathy with his thoughts.
He could feel the weight of years he hadn't played, of opportunities he would never have, of the glory he had been denied.
His friends from school had moved on,
becoming professionals in their towns, some even getting scouted for the big leagues. And Noah? He had been left behind.
"Maybe… maybe it's easier if I just—"
The thought was fleeting, dangerous, a whisper of surrender.
He closed his eyes, trying to block it out, but the despair had a way of sinking in deep.
And then, just as the despair reached its peak, something… strange happened.
The air in the room shimmered slightly, almost like heat rising off asphalt. Noah opened his eyes, blinking.
The television screen flickered violently, static crawling across it like tiny white snakes. He rubbed his eyes, thinking it was fatigue.
But it wasn't.
A sharp, metallic voice echoed in his head.
"Welcome, Player. You have been granted a second chance. Activate: Greatest Footballer System."
Noah froze. His heart skipped a beat. What the hell…?
"Uh… what?" he muttered, rubbing his temples.
"System interface initializing. Player profile detected: Noah Ravenscroft. Birth date:
14/09/1988.
Status: Former footballer, dreams unfulfilled.
Probability of GOAT ascension: 0%. Initiating reincarnation protocol."
Noah's vision blurred. The couch, the crisps, the flickering TV—all of it melted into a kaleidoscope of light. He felt a strange pulling sensation, as if the very fabric of his existence had been torn and rewoven. His body felt weightless, suspended in nothingness.
"Wait! I—I don't understand! I—"
The words dissolved into the void. Time itself seemed to fold, seconds stretching into infinity. And then, abruptly, it ended.
He gasped, finding himself lying on a hard wooden floor.
Sunlight streamed through a classroom window, warm and bright,
illuminating a familiar, smaller version of himself.
I… I'm ten?
Noah's hands flew to his face. The reflection in the mirror across the room confirmed it: the soft, round cheeks, the slightly crooked front teeth, the wide, curious eyes.
He was a child again—ten years old, back in 1998.
And a note of irony hit him like a tidal wave.
The Manchester United Academy…
He was in his old academy classroom, the walls decorated with motivational posters, dusty trophies in the corner.
His childhood friends, unaware of this impossible twist, were chattering excitedly about practice and matches.
Noah staggered to his feet, trembling. He tried to speak, but the words came out shaky.
"Is… this real?" he whispered.
"Affirmative. Real. Temporal displacement successful. System functions online."
Noah froze again. The voice—the system—was in his head. And then, like a holographic interface materializing in front of him, a panel appeared, glowing softly:
PLAYER STATS: NOAH RAVENSCROFT
Speed: 210
Acceleration: 190
Strength: 180
Ball Control: 160
Dribbling: 150
Shooting: 150
Vision: 100
Football IQ: 120
Mentality: 130
Stamina: 200
SYSTEM FUNCTIONS:
Anime Gacha (locked)
Footballer Gacha (locked)
Stat Panel (active)
Reincarnation Bonus: 1/∞
Noah blinked. He was stunned, staring at the numbers as if they were some alien language.
"Wait… wait a minute… this can't be real. Numbers? Stats? Anime… Gacha? What is happening?!"
"System functions will unlock as you train, improve, and achieve. Your goal: Become the Greatest Footballer of All Time. Initial growth phase: slow. Grind required. Current limitations: human baseline."
Noah felt a shiver run down his spine.
The words were simple, mechanical, but they carried infinite weight.
He was being given a second chance, a chance to rewrite his glory.
He stumbled to the door, still dizzy from the sudden temporal shift.
Outside, the academy grounds looked exactly as he remembered—lush green pitches, goalposts gleaming in the sunlight, the distant roar of kids playing football echoing through the morning air.
And then he saw them.
Liam Carter, grinning as he practiced volleys, already shouting, "Hey! Watch this, Noah! Bet I can score from the halfway line before you can blink!"
Ethan Hayes, furiously scribbling tactical diagrams in a notebook, muttering numbers and formations, completely absorbed in strategy.
Marcus Rodriguez, dragging an enormous kit bag, pretending it weighed a ton, and grinning when Noah stumbled into view.
Noah laughed aloud. The sound was foreign but exhilarating. Friends… this is real. I'm really back.
"Alright," he whispered to himself, fists clenched. "This time… I won't fail. I'll make it. I'll be… the Greatest."
And with that, he kicked a stray ball across the academy pitch. It soared farther than he expected, spinning perfectly, bouncing once, twice, rolling to a stop right at Liam's feet. Liam froze, eyes wide.
"Woah…" Liam muttered. "Since when do you kick like that, Noah?"
Noah smirked for the first time in years.
"Since never. But now? It's just the beginning."
Somewhere in the distance, the system hummed softly, ready to track, guide, and push him toward greatness.
The path ahead was impossible, grueling, and uncertain—but for the first time in his life, Noah Ravenscroft felt alive.
And somewhere deep down, a small, stubborn part of him laughed at the irony: I failed once. But now… I get to do it all over.
And this time, I won't just play. I'll rewrite history.