World football system-Chapter 37: Flames of Fatigue

Tobi had barely caught his breath from the weekend’s win before school yanked him back into a different kind of pressure.

Monday morning, he was scribbling Spanish literature notes while squeezing a protein bar into his mouth. His classmates snuck glances at him—not in awe anymore, but with a mixture of envy and detachment. He was famous, yes, but fame isolated.

"Rosa Montero’s theme of identity is about inner struggle," the teacher said.

Tobi looked up.

Inner struggle. The phrase clung to him like sweat.

His body still ached from Saturday’s match. His mind was splintered between match footage, tactical revisions, and the 5-page essay due by midnight.

> [SYSTEM STATUS]

Physical Condition: 84%

Mental Strain: HIGH

Stress Tolerance: Dropping

Suggested Action: REST MODE + Emotional Reset

But how could he rest?

Coach Moreno had called for double sessions this week. Valencia was preparing for a Copa del Rey quarterfinal. Miguel had already started staying after practice for extra drills. The arms race was on.

---

That evening at the training grounds, Tobi stayed behind, too. He went through agility drills, then worked on his through balls until his thighs burned.

Rodrigo walked by, shaking his head. "You’ve got nothing to prove, you know?"

Tobi didn’t stop. "Feels like I do."

Rodrigo crossed his arms. "You’re burning out."

"I’m catching up."

"No—" Rodrigo stepped closer, voice firm. "You’re setting yourself on fire just to light someone else’s torch."

Tobi paused. That stung.

"Go home, Oliveira."

---

Back at the apartment, Clara was at her laptop, juggling contract renewals, calls, and emails. Leonor was doing passing drills in the hallway, using cones made of cereal boxes.

"Coach said my weak foot needs work," she mumbled while flicking the ball. "I’ll be ambidextrous like you soon."

Tobi smiled, but it felt hollow. "I’m not even sure which foot’s working today."

Clara looked up. "What’s wrong?"

"Just tired."

"You’re always tired, Tobi. That’s not normal."

"I’m playing. I’m passing. I’m assisting. Isn’t that enough?"

"It’s not about the game. It’s about you."

He looked away.

---

The Copa quarterfinal came fast. Valencia vs. Granada.

Tobi started, as did Miguel. The first half was a blur—tight pressing, long balls, heavy tackles. He took a knock to the shin in the 17th minute, ignored it, then sprinted full pitch to track back by the 30th.

By halftime, he was drained. Coach noticed.

"You want off?"

"No. I’m fine."

But he wasn’t.

In the 62nd minute, he misread a diagonal switch. Granada scored from the counter. Miguel equalized six minutes later, but the damage was done.

1–1. Penalty shootout.

Tobi stepped up third.

The stadium was dead silent.

He aimed left.

The keeper guessed right.

Saved.

Valencia lost.

---

The locker room was suffocating.

Coach Moreno didn’t yell.

Rodrigo didn’t speak.

Miguel gave him a pat on the back, but even that felt heavy.

> [SYSTEM ALERT]

CONFIDENCE: Critical Low

Fatigue Index: MAX

Emotional Stability: Fragile

Trust Delta: -9%

Fan Sentiment: Mixed

He skipped the press conference. Walked straight to the bus. Sat alone. His phone buzzed with media alerts. He didn’t check them.

---

That night, Clara found him in the dark kitchen, sitting on the counter, staring at nothing.

"You don’t have to carry it all."

He didn’t respond.

"You’re not a machine."

He muttered, "But I have one inside me, don’t I?"

She sat beside him. "Even machines crash when they’re pushed too hard."

Leonor appeared, sleep in her eyes. "Is Tobi okay?"

"He will be," Clara said.

Leonor came and hugged him. "You’re my hero, even when you miss."

That broke him.

He cried—finally.

---

The system flickered awake that night.

> Emotional Crisis Acknowledged

Activating Recovery Sequence:

– Rest Mode: ON

– System Coaching: OFF

– External Metrics: Muted

Duration: 48 hours recommended

He accepted.

For the first time in weeks, he slept without nightmares.

---

Chapter 36 – Balance on the Brink

The first rays of dawn slipped through the curtains, soft golden light casting long shadows across the floor of the Oliveira apartment. Tobi sat alone on the balcony, a steaming cup of herbal tea in his hands—courtesy of Clara, who insisted he take the system’s rest mode seriously. For the past 36 hours, he hadn’t touched a ball. No tactical footage, no drills, no gym. Just books, sleep, a few family walks through the quiet alleys near Mestalla, and Leonor’s endless barrage of questions.

"Do you think one day I’ll play at the Camp Nou?" she asked over dinner. "Do they let girls play there?"

"Of course they do," Tobi replied, tousling her hair. "And if they don’t, you’ll be the one who makes them."

He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he laughed freely until she dragged him into a board game last night and beat him—twice.

Now, as birds chirped on the rooftops, and the early sounds of the city stirred to life, he felt... not better, but calmer.

> [SYSTEM NOTICE]

Recovery Mode Complete

Emotional Stability: 82% (+19)

Confidence: Moderate

Match Fitness: 87%

Performance Consistency Trait: Developing

Clara stepped onto the balcony, arms folded over a wool cardigan. "Back to the grind today?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. But I’m doing it for me this time."

She smiled. "That’s all I ever wanted."

---

At the training ground, the tension had shifted.

Miguel greeted him with a nod. Rodrigo slapped him on the back. Even Coach Moreno gave him a look that wasn’t disappointment—it was expectation.

Tobi was back.

The next match was against Villarreal. A tough side. Known for tactical rigidity and punishing any lack of sharpness in midfield.

Coach Moreno approached after warmups. "You’ve got the start. Not because Miguel can’t play. But because you need this."

Tobi nodded. "Understood."

---

The match kicked off under floodlights. Valencia’s fans filled the air with chants, flares, and deafening roars.

Villarreal pressed high. Tobi adjusted early, playing quick one-twos with the fullbacks, occasionally dropping back to form a makeshift double pivot with Rodrigo.

It was working.

In the 18th minute, he received the ball at the halfway line, turned between two markers, and sent a 40-meter pass curling onto the wing. The crowd gasped. The forward didn’t miss.

1–0.

> [SYSTEM ALERT]

Match Impact Bonus: +11%

Tactical Awareness: Upgraded

Long Passing: 91

By halftime, Tobi had registered an assist, won six duels, and controlled the rhythm of the match. But fatigue crept in. His legs were heavy—not from lack of fitness, but from too much thinking.

Villarreal equalized early in the second half. A poor clearance led to chaos in the box.

Coach Moreno didn’t panic. He turned to the bench but kept Tobi on.

"You want to finish this?"

Tobi nodded. "I do."

---

In the 76th minute, he made his move.

A recycled corner. The ball bounced at the edge of the box. Tobi anticipated it, stepped forward, and struck.

It wasn’t power—it was precision.

The ball curled past defenders, kissed the bottom right post, and nestled into the net.

2–1.

He didn’t run to celebrate. He stood still. Soaked in the sound. The name they were chanting now was his.

> "TO-BI! TO-BI! TO-BI!"

> [SYSTEM UPDATE]

Match Rating: 9.5

Club Trust: Restored

New Trait Unlocked: Composed Finisher

Goal of the Month Nominee

---

After the game, he sat in the changing room, shirt soaked, boots muddy, heart full. Miguel sat beside him.

"That goal..."

"I needed it."

"We all did."

Rodrigo walked past and clapped both on the shoulder. "This team is only as strong as its heartbeat. Tonight, you kept it alive."

---

The next day at school, he expected whispers. Instead, his literature teacher handed him back his paper with a small smile.

"A-," she said. "Not bad for a footballer."

Tobi grinned.

Back home, Leonor ran to him with her latest news: she had been made vice-captain of the youth squad.

He picked her up and spun her around. "Looks like we’re both climbing."

Later, after everyone had gone to sleep, Tobi opened the system interface one last time.

> PLAYER PROFILE

Name: Tobi Oliveira

Age: 17

Position: CAM

Club: Valencia CF (Senior Team)

Goals This Season: 6

Assists: 12

Fan Rating: 9.1 Avg

Internal Rating: 87 OVR

> SYSTEM MESSAGE

The pressure is not gone. But you are learning to stand on it, not sink beneath it.

Tobi smiled, closed the interface, and turned off the light.

Tomorrow was another day.

But for tonight—he was enough.

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