The sun hung low over the Ilupeju Sports Complex, its fading warmth casting long shadows across the training pitch. Evening sessions always carried a different energy—quieter, sharper, more personal. The noise of the day faded, replaced by the measured rhythm of breathing, boots on turf, and the sharp whistle of a coach trying to extract perfection from young players.
Joseph Oya stood at the center circle, hands on his hips, sweat rolling down the bridge of his nose. His chest rose and fell in steady, deliberate breaths. The past weeks had been heavy—pressure, expectation, whispers of being "the academy's future project," and now the looming National Youth Invitational. Everyone felt it. But Joseph carried it differently. It sat on him not like a burden—but like armor.
Coach Adewale paced in front of him and his teammates, his expression stern but his eyes burning with an almost manic intensity.
"Today is decision day," he announced. "Not for me—no. For you. I want to know which of you can take the fire inside you and turn it into something real."
The players exchanged glances. Intense sessions were normal. But this tone?
This was different.
Joseph wiped his face with the hem of his shirt and refocused. He wasn't afraid—if anything, he felt a strange calm settling inside him. His system progress had been steady; his confidence was growing; his instinct sharper than ever. Something in his gut whispered that today mattered.
"Pair up!" Coach barked.
Joseph turned—exactly as someone bumped his shoulder.
It was Kelechi, the center-back who had been on edge for weeks. He wasn't Joseph's enemy, but the rivalry between them had escalated. Kelechi hated losing challenges to him. He hated how the younger players looked up to Joseph. And most of all… he hated the whispers that Joseph might be scouted first.
"Let's go, Oya," Kelechi said with a stiff jaw. "Show me something."
Joseph nodded once. No words. Just focus.
_________________________________________
The cones were arranged in a tight diamond. It was a close-quarters duel—fast touches, quick decisions, shoulder-to-shoulder combat in its purest form. Coach threw the ball between them.
"WIN OR GET RUN OVER!"
The ball bounced.
Joseph reacted a split-second earlier.
He nudged it forward, but Kelechi closed in instantly, shoulders tense, eyes sharp. The air between them grew heavy—the kind of tension that made other players slow down just to watch.
Joseph feinted left.
Kelechi blocked it.
Joseph rolled the ball right.
Kelechi stuck out a leg, stopping him again.
The defender was playing like someone possessed.
"Is that all?" Kelechi taunted under his breath.
Joseph didn't rise to it. Instead, something inside him lit—a flare of cold determination.
Focus. Don't rush. Think.
He shifted his weight, dropped a shoulder, and performed a tight inside turn that forced Kelechi to twist awkwardly. The ball moved half a meter ahead—barely an opening.
But it was enough.
Joseph exploded past him.
Kelechi cursed, turned, chased—and caught up fast. He pressed his forearm into Joseph's back, trying to destabilize him. Joseph dug his heels in, lowered his center of gravity, and shielded the ball.
The turf scraped under his boots.
"Hold!" Coach shouted. "Absorb the pressure!"
Joseph gritted his teeth. Kelechi was strong—much stronger—but Joseph had grown, too. Months of training had strengthened his balance and core. Slowly, inch by inch, he twisted his body to slip away.
Then—
Kelechi shoved him.
Not lightly. Not competitively.
Hard.
Joseph stumbled, barely keeping his footing. The ball rolled free.
The pitch froze.
Coach Adewale's whistle sliced through the tension.
"Kelechi!"
The defender looked up, chest rising and falling aggressively. "Sorry, Coach."
"No. You're not," Coach said sharply. "Control your emotions or get off my pitch."
A hush fell. Kelechi clenched his jaw—he looked like he wanted to argue—but instead he shook his head and stepped back.
Joseph picked up the ball. He didn't glare, didn't respond. He simply reset himself.
Coach watched him closely.
"Oya. Again."
THE SECOND ROUND
The ball dropped.
Kelechi surged immediately, trying to take possession early, but Joseph had already shifted into a higher gear—feet moving fast, almost dancing around the ball.
He performed a sharp L-turn, pivoted, and used a drop of his shoulder to make Kelechi commit prematurely. The defender lunged—
And Joseph tapped the ball through the small gap between his legs.
The entire squad shouted: "OHHHHHH!"
Kelechi spun, furious.
Joseph didn't look back. He took the ball around the final cone and stopped it cleanly on the line.
Coach nodded once, satisfied, but even he couldn't hide the flicker of surprise in his eyes.
Joseph walked back, and for the first time, he met Kelechi's glare. Not with arrogance. Not with challenge.
Just calm, unshaken confidence.
Coach clapped his hands.
"Good. Switch!"
THE SCRIMMAGE
Once the duels ended, the team shifted to a full-pitch scrimmage. The floodlights flickered on, bathing the grass in white brilliance. Joseph wiped sweat from his neck as he jogged to his position—right winger for today's tactical setup.
"Play with speed," Coach said behind him. "Today is about quick decision-making. The scouts will want that."
Joseph froze.
Scouts?
He didn't ask questions. He didn't want to be the guy begging for details. He just nodded and jogged onto the pitch, heart beating faster, but mind razor-focused.
The whistle blew.
Immediately, the tempo surged. Passes zipped. Boots cracked against the turf. Voices echoed.
Joseph pressed forward, hovering near the sideline, waiting for his moment. The ball traveled through midfield—Shola, to Malik, to Tobi.
Then finally—
"Tobi!" Joseph called, hand raised.
The midfielder saw him. A cross-field pass whipped into his path.
Joseph cushioned it with his chest—then in the same motion, flicked it over the left-back's outstretched leg.
Speed. Light. Precision.
He pushed forward, sprinting down the flank. Two defenders converged. Joseph slowed, dragging the ball backward to force them to hesitate. His timing was perfect.
He burst forward through the new gap.
The defenders stumbled to recover.
Joseph cut inside.
Malik surged toward the box.
Tobi was unmarked at the edge.
Kelechi—now moved to the opposing team in the scrimmage—began closing fast.
Joseph scanned quickly.
Three options.
One heartbeat.
He slipped the ball through to Tobi.
Tobi didn't hesitate—he struck.
The ball curved beautifully…
…and slammed into the top corner.
The pitch erupted.
"Beautiful play!"
"Sharp movement!"
"Great vision, Oya!"
Joseph jogged back with a controlled smile, chest thudding with satisfied adrenaline.
Coach Adewale watched him carefully, murmuring something to his assistant coach.
The scrimmage continued. Joseph stayed involved—quick touches, smart passes, bursts of speed, clever positioning. He wasn't the loudest. He wasn't trying to be the hero.
He was being consistent.
Reliable.
Focused.
And it showed.
THE MOMENT OF RECOGNITION
As the session ended, the players gathered near the bench. Coach dismissed them, but gestured for Joseph to stay behind.
Joseph's stomach tightened.
"You trained well today," Coach said simply.
"Thank you, sir."
"But that's not why I kept you."
Joseph blinked.
Coach pulled out his phone and showed him a message—barely a line of text.
"We're coming to watch the academy's right winger this weekend. Confirm match time."
— Arsenal Africa Regional Scout
Joseph nearly forgot to breathe.
Coach pocketed the phone.
"This is not a guarantee," he said. "It's an opportunity. And if you want it… you must show them that today wasn't luck."
Joseph nodded slowly, every nerve in his body tightening with purpose.
"Can you handle that pressure?" Coach asked.
Joseph raised his head, eyes steady.
"Yes, sir."
Coach smiled faintly.
"I believe you can."
As Joseph walked off the pitch, his legs felt lighter, his mind clearer. Everything—the drills, the duels, the fights, the sweat—had led him to this moment.
The dream was no longer far away.
It was coming toward him.
And Joseph Oya was ready.
__________________________________________________________________________________
📌 SYSTEM UPDATE — PLAYER PROFILE: JOSEPH OYA
[Post–Chapter 22 Version]
Name: Joseph Oya
Age: 16
Position: Right Winger / Attacking Midfielder
Foot: Right (Improving Left)
Condition: Fit
Mental State: Focused, Motivated, Rising Competitive Instinct
---
⚡ CORE ATTRIBUTES
Pace: 84 → 85
Acceleration: 86 → 87
Agility: 83 → 84
Stamina: 78 → 80
Strength: 71 → 72
Balance: 74 → 76
Dribbling: 82 → 84
Ball Control: 81 → 83
First Touch: 78 → 79
Finishing: 76
Long Shots: 72
Crossing: 77 → 79
Passing (Short): 78 → 79
Passing (Long): 72
Vision: 80 → 82
Decision-Making: 75 → 78
Off-the-ball Movement: 79 → 81
Aggression: 70 → 72
Composure: 74 → 77
Confidence: 76 → 80
---
🧠 SPECIAL SKILLS & TRAITS
Improved Shoulder Feint Lv. 2
Precision First Touch Lv. 1 → Lv. 2
Close-Quarters Control (NEW)
Situational Vision Boost (During fast play)
Rising Leader Aura (Minor)
Scout Alert Flag: ACTIVE 🔥 (Arsenal Africa Regional Scout Tracking)
---
📈 MATCH & TRAINING NOTES
Consistently winning 1v1 duels even under physical pressure
Remarkable composure during tight-space drills
Increased synergy with midfielders (Tobi & Malik)
Coaches have marked him as a "High Potential Winger"
Psychological stability rising — confidence under tension noticeable
Rivalry with Kelechi triggered hidden competitive growth
---
🎯 SYSTEM REMARK
"The host's momentum is increasing rapidly. Maintain discipline, focus, humility, and intensity. An opportunity approaches — prepare to seize it."