King Power Stadium – Halftime
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The whistle blew.
But the noise didn’t stop. It shifted.
It mutated.
Rooney’s breath came out like smoke. He dragged his sleeve across his brow, lungs tight, boots feeling like anchors. The crowd—still roaring. Not with joy. Not even with anger. Just... noise. Like static trapped in a speaker. Wild. Relentless.
Above th...
2025-07-09 20:11:33 +0000 UTC View PostAlright, quick update —
I’ve realized this new schedule just isn’t working. For me or for you. So I’m going back to what does work: daily chapters.
Starting now, you’ll be getting a new chapter every day again — each one at least 5k words. No more delays, no more weird gaps. I’ve got my own place now, full control of my time, and nothing stopping me from grind...
2025-07-09 15:44:57 +0000 UTC View PostNovember 28, 2015 King Power Stadium – 4:18 PM | Manchester United Dressing Room
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Shirts hung on metal hooks. Boots were aligned beneath benches like obedient soldiers. The clock ticked softly overhead.
The locker room wasn’t comfortable by any means, only having the bare necessities but the players were already accustomed to this. A tactic everyone in the league us...
2025-07-06 01:24:25 +0000 UTC View PostNovember 27, 2015 Belvoir Drive – Early Morning
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The strategy room was quiet. The fluorescent lights buzzed gently overhead. Marker pens clicked open and closed. Chairs creaked as coaches leaned in or sat back, each man studying the whiteboard at the front of the room like it might blink or bite.
Claudio Ranieri stood in front of it, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. ...
2025-07-01 19:22:16 +0000 UTC View PostNovember 26, 2015
Manchester — 1:42 AM
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David De Gea sat alone on his couch in the flat. The television’s glow flickered across his face, soft and bluish, the only light in the room aside from a single lamp humming weakly in the corner. A half-empty glass of water rested untouched on the coffee table. His legs were tense. His spine ached. But he hadn’t moved in over an hou...
2025-06-27 08:52:11 +0000 UTC View PostNovember 22, 2015 — 6:12 AM
Leicester, Hale Residence
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The rain had stopped sometime in the night. A dull gray glow filtered through the bedroom curtains, soft and colorless.
Depressing as always in the U.K.
Tristan lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped over Barbara’s hip. Her body was pressed close, legs tangled with his under the she...
2025-06-23 22:09:14 +0000 UTC View PostSorry for the long delay, but please do enjoy this 8k chapter.
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POST-MATCH INTERVIEW
Camera set. Mic clipped. Floodlights still bleeding into the tunnel. The crowd noise hadn’t died—just dipped into that low post-match hum.
Tristan stood just off-center. Boots unlaced. Shirt soaked and clinging to his shoulders. Hair curled wet against his forehead. A fresh cut ran ...
2025-06-21 01:08:58 +0000 UTC View PostHalftime Broadcast — Sky Sports Studio
London — 4:51 PM (UK Time)
The camera came back before anyone in the studio even realized they were live.
The score was still glowing in the corner of the screen:
Newcastle 0 – 3 Leicester City
Alan Shearer sat stone-still. Arms folded. Like he was trying to hold the entire North East together through sheer willpower. Hi...
2025-06-17 20:03:02 +0000 UTC View Post📢 Quick Poll for You All!
I’m currently releasing 5 chapters per week on Webnovel , and we’re about 24+ chapters ahead on Patreon.
Now I want to hear from you:
👉 Would you prefer:
A) Shorter daily chapters (2k–4k words) — more frequent but faster reads sinc...
2025-06-17 19:48:23 +0000 UTC View PostThe wind hit differently this morning.
Not colder, just... wetter. A wind that didn’t blow so much as it snuck in under your coat and stayed there.
Danny Drinkwater stepped through the main doors, boot bag in hand, shoulders hunched, and felt it straight away.
Not the cold.
The mood.
It was a far cry from the usual kind of atmosphere you expected after an interna...
2025-06-15 05:01:04 +0000 UTC View PostNovember 17, 2015 — Wembley Stadium
Moments before kickoff
The hallway lights buzzed low and steady above the tunnel. Cold tile. Warm breath. Studs tapping in uneven rhythm.
France lined the left side.
England the right.
No one spoke.
Not yet.
Pogba rolled his shoulders back, jaw set. Benzema stood just behind him, arms crossed. Griezmann shifted weig...
2025-06-12 21:21:32 +0000 UTC View PostNovember 13, 2015
Alicante, Spain
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Plates clinked. Chairs scraped. The coffee machine hissed behind the counter.
The breakfast room was quieter than usual. Not tense — just tired. Voices low. Heads down. A few players hunched over eggs and toast, nursing bruises with orange juice.
Tristan moved through the buffet line without saying much. Grabbed a banana. Poure...
2025-06-10 22:34:28 +0000 UTC View PostNovember 12, 2015
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Clouds pressed thick against the plane windows, smudging out the horizon in shades of pearl and slate.
Barbara sat curled in her seat, one leg folded beneath her, the other stretched out beneath the polished wood table. A pale grey blanket draped across her lap like fog. Her hair, still damp from the rushed shower that morning, clung in soft, uneven waves a...
2025-06-08 18:54:05 +0000 UTC View PostQuick update before that chapter. Not sure how many of you guys see the Discord update. I need a break, I’m burning out. Last few chapters didn’t feel right to me and I was just writing chapters that I wasn’t proud of.
So in order to make sure I don’t burn out from writing this story completely, I’m gonna take a week break from tomorrow until June 6. I will not post ...
2025-05-29 18:47:01 +0000 UTC View PostSarutobi Hiruzen
June 1, 1 bNb
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Izuma stopped just a step past the threshold. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and the office was just as he remembered.
Same old shelves lined with old paper, books, and scrolls. The same old black ink stains crusted into the table, a few scratches, dents, and chips were on the surface of the table as well. The varnish coati...
2025-05-29 14:17:32 +0000 UTC View PostNovember 3, 2015 — Belvoir Drive
Early Morning
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Sunlight — actual, proper sunlight — poured through the windows, casting pale gold lines across the carpet. The kind of morning that felt like it had wandered into the Midlands by mistake.
Claudio Ranieri stood by the radiator, mug cupped in both hands, watching the grounds crew move about the pitch like they couldn’t...
2025-05-28 22:24:49 +0000 UTC View PostOctober 24, 2015 — King Power Stadium
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Rain clung to the air the way it always did in October — not falling so much as hovering, like it couldn’t quite commit.
Crystal Palace had brought a decent crowd, their red and blue flags flapping stubbornly in the wind. But whatever noise they made got swallowed the moment Leicester’s end opened its throat. 2025-05-28 00:39:45 +0000 UTC View Post
October 21, 2015 — En Route to Belgrade
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The cabin lights were low. A soft amber glow spilled over the rows of plush leather seats, trays pulled down, boots kicked off. Outside, the sky was black and endless. Just the hum of engines and the low rhythm of turbulence beneath their feet.
Tristan sat by the window, hoodie half-drawn over his head. One leg folded under him. His ...
2025-05-27 00:20:09 +0000 UTC View PostHome
June 1, 1 bNb
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The barrier shimmered in his eyes—threads of chakra webbed across the treetops and curved over distant rooftops.
To most people, it was invisible.
But with the Sharingan spinning slowly in his tired eyes, it looked like a grand sight.
Too bad it was useless whenever you needed it.
He kicked a rock off the side of the r...
2025-05-25 21:45:15 +0000 UTC View PostOctober 19, 2015 — Evening
Leicester City Centre
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The wind had a bite to it. Not winter yet, but close enough that Tristan pulled his hoodie tighter and adjusted the black mask over his lower face. Not that it mattered much. It was dark. He was dressed low. He hadn’t expected anyone to notice.
But fame has its own downsides.
He stepped out of the s...
2025-05-25 21:33:22 +0000 UTC View PostOctober 19, 2015 — Afternoon
Undisclosed Location, London
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The blacked-out car rolled to a stop outside a quiet luxury hotel — no signs, no press, no questions. It looked like just another glass-wrapped building in central London.
Which was exactly the point.
Tristan stepped out first, hoodie up, hands in his jacket pockets. Jorge Mendes followed, blazer crisp...
2025-05-24 01:28:24 +0000 UTC View PostIzuma Uchiha
May 30, 1 bNb
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The rain started again around midday.
It wasn’t heavy—just enough to soak the hem of his cloak, and turn the dirt road beneath his boots from hard and packed to wet and soft.
He kept walking anyway.
The black fabric of his cloak clung to his shoulders, wet. The hood was drawn forward, shadowing his face from any eyes that migh...
2025-05-22 21:20:43 +0000 UTC View PostOctober 18, 2015 — Morning
New York City, USA
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The blinds were cracked just enough to let in a slice of early morning light. Barbara lay curled on the couch, one foot poking out from under the throw blanket, hair a hopeless mess. Biscuit was nestled at her hip, tiny snores puffing into the pillow like secret steam.
Her phone, facedown on the coffee table, buzzed once....
2025-05-22 21:05:57 +0000 UTC View PostOctober 16, 2015 — Morning
Belvoir Drive Training Ground
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Boots struck wet turf in a steady rhythm as the Leicester squad jogged laps beneath a flat grey sky. The air was damp enough that voices felt quieter. Cones lay scattered across the grass like someone had given up halfway through setting them out.
Robert Huth called out, annoyed about a missing training bib. 2025-05-21 23:23:15 +0000 UTC View Post
Fog and Fire
May 27, 1 bNb
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He was irritated.
That’s what he would say if he were being nice.
If he were to be a little bit less so, then he would say he was fucking pissed.
The weather was humid, and the air was murky. The sea wasn’t far, so the climate made sense, yet that didn’t make it any better.
He had been stationed here for coming up on t...
2025-05-21 15:11:16 +0000 UTC View PostOctober 12, 2015 – 8:14 PM
Lithuania
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The room buzzed the way footballers made anything buzz — plates clattering, spoons tapping bowls, someone yelling about FIFA rankings while Clash of Clans blared from a phone speaker.
Tristan sat at the far end of the table, barely looking at his plate. He’d eaten already. Didn’t feel like it now.
“Heads up,” Vardy...
2025-05-21 00:43:40 +0000 UTC View PostOctober 9, 2015 – 11:41 PM
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The TV flickered in the corner. A loop of tunnel footage, grainy slow-mo, and panel show clips cycled endlessly. Headlines crawled along the bottom of the screen like stock tickers:
TRISTAN VS HODGSON: THE SYSTEM CRACKS
IS ENGLAND’S GOLDEN BOY TOO BOLD?
TUNNEL TENSION: LEADERSHIP OR INSUBORDINATION?
MIDFIELD OR MUZZLE: IS ROY ...
2025-05-19 23:30:14 +0000 UTC View PostFuture Legends
March 16, 35 bNb
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Hiroto reclined against the wooden post and sighed, watching the field in front of him with scrutiny.
Joint class training day.
The training field was wider than usual, probably to accommodate the combined student body—it was really quite nice, if he was being honest.
He had no problem with fighting those a year older...
2025-05-19 01:46:02 +0000 UTC View PostOctober 9, 2015 – 5:42 PM
Wembley Stadium
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The corridors beneath Wembley were still — just the hush of rubber soles on polished tile and the soft echo from empty rows above.
Two hours to kickoff.
Tristan walked beside Gary Neville, half-zipped in his England warm-up top, a ball tucked under his arm. Sweat cooled beneath his base layer, fine and itchy along his...
2025-05-18 17:51:06 +0000 UTC View PostOctober 6, 2015 – 6:26 PM
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The wipers squeaked across the windshield every few seconds, clearing just enough drizzle for Tristan to see the dying daylight stretch along the motorway. The One-77 purred beneath him — smooth as a baby.
His phone buzzed in the cup holder.
Lingard calling.
He pressed the wheel control.
“Yo, mate. How’s it goin...
2025-05-16 22:47:32 +0000 UTC View Post