Adrian didn't move.
He lay flat on the cool grass, chest rising and falling slowly, eyes fixed on the dark Miami sky above him. The distant hum of the city felt far away, muted, as if the world had taken a step back.
But the voice in his head hadn't.
[LEGACY GRIDIRON SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
The words hung there—clear, precise, impossible to ignore.
Adrian blinked once.
Then again.
"…I've finally lost it," he muttered hoarsely.
He pushed himself up onto his elbows and glanced around the training field. Nothing had changed. The grass was still perfect. The goalposts still stood quietly at the far end. The lights from the mansion behind him cast long shadows across the yard.
No holograms. No glowing panels. No dramatic effects.
Yet the presence remained.
Calm.
Watching.
Waiting.
"System?" Adrian whispered, feeling ridiculous as soon as the word left his mouth.
A sharp pulse flared behind his eyes.
[Host recognized: Adrian Vale]
[Age: 17]
[Status: Active]
Adrian sucked in a breath.
His heart slammed against his ribs as he scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over the football beside him.
This wasn't exhaustion.
This wasn't imagination.
The voice—no, the interface—was too structured, too clear.
"Okay," he said slowly, forcing himself to stay calm. "If this is real… then respond."
The night air felt heavier, like it was listening.
[Awaiting command.]
Adrian laughed once—short, sharp, almost hysterical.
"Holy hell…"
He dragged a hand through his sweat-damp hair, pacing a few steps before stopping again. Years of disappointment, of frustration, of pushing himself until his body failed—none of it had prepared him for this.
"Show me… whatever you're supposed to show me."
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Then the world shifted.
Not visually—not like a screen appearing in front of him—but internally. Information unfolded in his mind, crisp and undeniable, like knowledge he had always had but never accessed.
[Legacy Gridiron System]
Primary Function: Football Growth & Legacy Development
Core Principle: Effort + Insight + Pressure = Evolution
Below that, lines of data appeared.
[Physical Attributes]
Strength: 52
Agility: 54
Endurance: 58
[Mental Attributes]
Game Vision: 71
Clutch Mentality: 60
[Team Attributes]
Chemistry: 43
Reputation: 39
Adrian stared.
"…That's it?" he asked.
The numbers weren't impressive. In fact, they were painfully average—some even below what a varsity starter should have.
If this system was supposed to make him special, it wasn't doing a great job at first glance.
"These numbers… they're low," Adrian said quietly.
[Current evaluation reflects reality.]
That stung.
He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. "So what, you're here to tell me what I already know?"
A pause.
Then—
[Correction.]
[You possess high latent potential in Game Vision.]
[Growth conditions unmet.]
"Growth conditions?" Adrian echoed.
Another pulse of information surged.
[Legacy Gridiron does not grant instant dominance.]
[System rewards sustained effort, adaptive thinking, and high-pressure execution.]
[Shortcut growth is restricted.]
Adrian exhaled slowly.
Of course.
Nothing in his life had ever come easy.
"So I still have to work," he said. It wasn't a question.
[Yes.]
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
That, at least, made sense.
"What about talent?" Adrian asked after a moment. "Can you… fix that?"
The answer came without hesitation.
[Talent is not corrected.]
[Talent is surpassed.]
His breath caught.
"What does that mean?"
The system didn't explain.
Instead, another line appeared.
[Initial Trial Available.]
[Do you wish to begin?]
Adrian's pulse quickened.
A trial.
This was how it started in every story he'd ever heard. A test. A challenge. Something that separated fantasy from reality.
He hesitated.
Images flashed through his mind—his father's calm disappointment, his brother's effortless success, the clean jersey he wore while others fought on the field.
And Lily's voice.
You're going to be amazing someday. I know it.
Adrian straightened.
"Yes," he said firmly. "Begin."
The moment the word left his mouth, the world fell away.
He was no longer standing on the training field.
The air around him shifted, growing cooler, sharper. The sounds of Miami vanished, replaced by a low, steady hum.
Adrian found himself standing at the fifty-yard line of a football field.
But it wasn't any field he recognized.
The stands were empty—vast and shadowed, stretching upward into darkness. The stadium lights above were dim, flickering faintly, casting uneven patches of light across the turf.
No crowd.
No teammates.
Just him.
"Okay," Adrian muttered, turning slowly. "This is new."
A figure appeared across the field.
At first, Adrian thought it was a mirror.
Same height. Same build. Same face.
Then the figure moved.
Its stance was perfect. Balanced. Confident.
And suddenly, Adrian understood.
"That's… me?"
[Trial One: Self.]
[Objective: Complete three successful drives.]
[Condition: No physical enhancement.]
Adrian swallowed.
"So I'm playing against myself," he said. "With no boosts."
[Correct.]
The other Adrian—the trial version—settled into a defensive stance, eyes cold and focused.
This wasn't about strength.
It was about understanding.
"Fine," Adrian said, gripping the football that had appeared in his hands. "Let's do it."
He dropped back.
Immediately, pressure hit him from all sides.
The defensive Adrian moved faster than expected, reading his motion, anticipating his steps. Adrian barely avoided a sack, rolling to the side and throwing on instinct.
The pass fell incomplete.
[Drive Failed.]
Adrian grimaced.
Again.
He tried a different approach—quick release, short route.
Intercepted.
[Drive Failed.]
Frustration bubbled up inside him.
"This is impossible," he snapped. "You're literally me."
[Incorrect.]
[You are not you under pressure.]
The words made him pause.
Not him under pressure.
Adrian closed his eyes briefly, breathing in, breathing out.
Friday nights.
The bench.
The silence.
He opened his eyes again.
This time, he didn't rush.
He watched.
He read the defense—not reacting, but predicting.
When the snap came, Adrian stepped back smoothly, shifting just enough to draw the defense. He didn't throw immediately. He waited half a second longer.
Then he released.
The ball cut through the air cleanly.
Complete.
[Drive Progressing.]
Adrian's heart pounded—not with fear, but focus.
Again.
And again.
He adapted, adjusted, trusted what he saw instead of panicking.
The third drive ended with a clean touchdown pass.
The stadium lights flared brighter.
[Trial Complete.]
Adrian stood there, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow.
"That… felt real," he said quietly.
[Because it was.]
The field dissolved, the darkness fading as the familiar night sky returned.
Adrian collapsed back onto the grass of his training field, staring up at the stars once more.
A final message appeared.
[Reward Granted.]
Game Vision +2
Clutch Mentality +1
The increase was small.
Almost insignificant.
But Adrian smiled anyway.
For the first time, improvement didn't feel like a lie.
It felt earned.
He pushed himself to his feet, legs shaky but spirit steady.
"This is just the beginning," he murmured.
From the mansion window, a light flicked on.
Someone was awake.
Adrian picked up the football, cradling it against his chest.
Tomorrow, nothing would look different.
But he would be.
Reader Question
What do you think of the Legacy Gridiron System so far?
Do you like that it focuses on effort and pressure instead of instant power?