Chapter 73: Volume 1, - 73: Novice
By Tuesday night, the small paved courtyard behind the apartment building had become Rayan’s classroom.
Under the faint orange glare of the single wall-mounted light, he reset the ball for what felt like the fiftieth time. His shirt was soaked, his breathing heavy against the cool evening air. He took two brisk steps forward, dropped his shoulder hard to the right, and shoved the ball left with the outside of his boot.
[Head movement telegraphed.]
[Repetitions accepted: 14/100]
Rayan dragged his foot over the ball to pull it back. He paused, wiping sweat from his eyes. When he tried too little movement, the System called it insufficient weight transfer. When he threw his upper body into it, the movement became a telegraphed signal that any competent full-back would read instantly.
He set the ball down again, focusing on the biomechanical model from the interface. The key wasn’t a violent lunge. It was a small, convincing lie. A subtle shift of the hips and eyes that made the defender believe he was committing to a stride, right before his plant foot caught his weight and redirected his momentum.
He jogged in at a natural pace, kept his head upright, flicked his eyes towards the right, and dropped his weight onto his right foot just enough to load the spring in his leg. He snapped back to the left, taking a crisp exit touch.
[Successful repetition.]
[Repetitions accepted: 15/100]
A faint, quiet breath of satisfaction escaped him. He built a rhythm, stringing four clean reps together in quick succession.
[Successful repetition.]
[Successful repetition.]
[Repetitions accepted: 19/100]
By the twenty-fifth attempt, his thigh muscles began to burn. The quick deceleration was taxing, demanding precise eccentric control. On the next try, his planted knee wobbled slightly, forcing his upper body to lean back to preserve his balance.
[Stance too upright.]
[Repetitions accepted: 22/100]
Rayan grunted, ignoring the warning, and immediately tried again. His exit touch dragged off his toes, heavy and clumsy on the concrete.
[Exit touch too heavy.]
[Form compromised due to muscle fatigue. Mission progress paused.]
[Repetitions accepted: 22/100]
Rayan stood over the ball, his hands on his knees, staring at the translucent warning. The System wouldn’t allow him to grind mindlessly through bad technique. If he wanted the reps to count, every single one had to be sharp. He picked up the ball, tucked it under his arm, and walked upstairs to rest.
On Wednesday, Rayan returned to the courtyard after school with the counter still fixed at twenty-two. His first attempt failed because he approached too slowly, turning the movement into an obvious rehearsal rather than a believable attack.
[Approach speed insufficient.]
He reset and increased his pace without rushing the exit touch. The next repetition counted. So did the one after it. Over the next twenty minutes, six more were accepted in uneven pairs. Then, for the first time, he managed a streak of six before his shoulders began exaggerating the false route again.
[Head movement telegraphed.]
[Repetitions accepted: 36/100]
The number tempted him to continue, but Sofia called him upstairs for dinner and he still had schoolwork waiting. Rayan left the ball beside the courtyard wall instead of forcing another exhausted set.
Thursday was the Corpus Christi public holiday. With no school, Rayan had a full day ahead, but his routine remained tied to real life.
After helping his mother carry groceries up the three flights of stairs and completing a history reading assignment for Bia’s presentation group, he used a two-hour window before afternoon academy duties to return to the courtyard.
With fresh legs and a clearer understanding of the movement, the counter began to move steadily.
[Successful repetition.]
[Successful repetition.]
[Repetitions accepted: 48/100]
He was no longer overthinking the shoulder drop. The motion was becoming a single, fluid sequence: approach, glance, plant, and push. By mid-afternoon, before he left for Sporting’s scheduled academy session, the display updated:
[Repetitions accepted: 67/100]
At Alcochete later that day, during an eight-versus-eight small-sided drill, Rayan decided to test the motion under live conditions.
Receiving a square pass from Nuno along the left flank, Rayan turned to face Rodrigo Neves. Wanting to execute the move perfectly, Rayan slowed his approach to a near-stop five yards away, carefully setting up his footwork. He dropped his shoulder to feint inside.
Rodrigo didn’t bite. Because Rayan had killed his own speed, Rodrigo simply stood his ground, leaned his arm across Rayan’s chest, and poked the ball away cleanly with his trailing boot.
"You’re giving him all day to read it, Rayan," Duarte Faria remarked dryly as he jogged past towards the central channel. "He’s not a traffic cone."
Rayan swallowed his frustration, tracking back quickly to recover his defensive shape.
During the next stoppage, Coach Tavares walked over to the touchline, whistling to pause the transition.
"Rayan," Tavares called out, pointing directly at the space where the duel had occurred. "Why did Rodrigo dispossess you so easily?"
"I slowed down," Rayan acknowledged, breathing hard.
"You killed your own speed," Tavares said. "Attack him. Give him a direction to fear, then shift him when he plants."
Rayan nodded immediately. Tavares’s advice matched the System’s earlier warning about maintaining enough approach speed to make both directions believable. The interface provided the structural breakdown, but real football required the courage to execute it against a living opponent at full speed.
By Friday evening, back in the courtyard after official squad training, Rayan set up for his final set of repetitions. His movements were far lighter now, the mechanical hesitation disappearing from his stride.
Friday’s first set stalled at ninety-one when he began rushing the exit touch, eager to finish before his legs tightened again.
[Exit touch too heavy.]
[Repetitions accepted: 91/100]
Rayan walked the length of the courtyard twice before resetting. When he returned, he stopped chasing the counter and concentrated on making each movement resemble a real attack. Eight repetitions counted. For the last one, he checked his stance, steadied his breathing and approached at match speed.
He glided forward, sold the subtle rightward glance, loaded his plant leg without dropping his hips too low, and exploded away to the left.
[Successful repetition.]
The translucent display updated inside his vision.
[TRAINING MISSION COMPLETE.]
[Correct repetitions: 100/100]
[Body Feint proficiency: Novice — 24%]
[Live-pressure objective unlocked.]
Rayan exhaled, resting a hand against the brick wall. A 24% proficiency rating in the Novice tier meant the move was far from a guaranteed match-winner. It was merely a tool he had begun to shape, raw and unpolished, but functional under the right conditions.
A new notification expanded across his field of vision, detailing the upcoming match requirements:
[MATCH OBJECTIVE]
[Primary: Complete three progressive attacking actions.]
[Bonus: Execute one successful Body Feint against an active defender.]
[Primary Reward: +1 Attribute Point]
[Bonus Reward: +1 Attribute Point and +8% Body Feint proficiency]
Rayan studied the details carefully. The System clarified that progressive actions included carries, forward passes or penetrative touches that advanced the team’s attack into the opponent’s defensive third. The bonus was entirely optional, carrying no hidden penalty or negative consequence if he chose not to attempt it.
His gaze lingered on one word in the bonus objective: successful.
Executing one hundred controlled repetitions on an empty paved courtyard was a technical baseline. Doing it against a defender who actively wanted to stop him and take the ball was something else entirely.