Chapter 1: Whistle of Rebirth
Chapter 1: Whistle of Rebirth
Nicholas Marjan had always lived and breathed football. Not in the flashy, stadium-hopping, selfie-taking way, but in the quiet, consuming, obsessive way that made other people think something was wrong with him. To his few friends, he was just "Niels"—a nod to his odd mix of European football taste and Asian roots. He wasn't the type to play on a team. He was the guy running simulations in FIFA Career Mode until dawn, watching tactical breakdowns in multiple languages, and memorizing youth prospects from leagues most people didn't know existed.
Football wasn't just a passion—it was the only thing that made sense.
Then, one rainy night, he died.
There was no warning. No blaze of glory. Just a stupid slip on a wet pavement during a late snack run. A crack. A flash. Darkness.
But when he opened his eyes, it wasn't to fluorescent lights or sirens.
It was sky. Real, open sky. Pale blue, soft clouds. A training pitch underfoot.
His body ached in all the wrong ways. His right knee screamed—a sharp, fiery ache that pulsed with memory. It wasn't just pain; it was familiar pain. ACL-level pain.
He sat up, slowly. The pitch was uneven, surrounded by wire fences. In the distance, faded banners flapped on rusted poles. Everything looked... older.
2007? 2008?
He stumbled toward the nearest building, heart hammering. The locker room smelled like sweat and dust. Inside, a cracked mirror waited.