Ficorpio
Chapter 1
“By unanimous decision of the Football Federation Disciplinary Committee!”
“Effective immediately, Ethan Bennett is permanently removed from the national team!”
“He will never be called up again!”
The heavyset official onstage delivered every word like a hammer blow.
At once, the media swarmed.
Cameras snapped toward Ethan, who stood alone at the edge of the room, boxed into a corner like he didn’t belong there.
“Ethan Bennett! The Federation says you refused to follow team management and broke discipline. Is that true?”
“Did you argue with the coaching staff in the locker room?”
“Or do you really think your skill level gives you the right to challenge the team’s core players for their spots?”
“Ethan, why aren’t you saying anything? Don’t have the guts to answer?”
“…”
They came at him like hyenas scenting blood.
Every question was sharper than the last, all of them chasing headlines.
Ethan stared back coldly, his thoughts hard and silent.
Broke discipline?
Defied the coaches?
Wasn’t it really because he refused to hand his place to some sponsor’s pampered golden boy?
Because he wouldn’t play along with their disgusting fixed-match arrangements?
What the hell had he done wrong?
A few of his former national teammates brushed past him in a hurry.
Not one of them spoke for him.
One even lowered his head and let out a muffled snort.
“We told him to stop acting so high and mighty.”
“He really thought the national team couldn’t function without him?”
“Whatever. Not my problem.”
Ethan glanced at them, disgust burning behind his eyes.
A bunch of soft frauds who could barely control a ball.
All they knew was how to cash checks and coast.
They played like garbage and still got paid like kings.
Sharing a locker room with them had been an insult.
At the same time, the internet was already exploding.
#EthanBennettPermanentlyBannedFromNationalTeam shot to the top of the trending list.
The comment section rolled like a tidal wave.
“Serves him right! If even the national team doesn’t want him, he’s trash!”
“Never liked that guy anyway!”
“But Ethan played great in the league. Why bury him for good?”
“Anyone defending him can get lost. If he got kicked out, it means there’s something wrong with him!”
“…”
Ethan pulled out his phone and gave it a quick glance.
The top-liked comment stabbed at his eyes.
“The national team may be awful, but not just anyone gets in. Throwing out someone like Ethan is perfectly normal.”
His thumb came down with a sharp click, locking the screen.
…
In a high-end café downtown, Vanessa Hayes sat with her legs crossed, her fitted skirt hugging every line of her figure.
She was painting her nails a vivid, glossy red.
Her best friend slid a phone across the table.
“Vanessa, look. Your ex is completely finished.”
Vanessa barely glanced at the screen.
“I told you ages ago—he’s a total idiot. Stubborn, self-righteous, always acting like he was above everyone else.”
“He’d go on and on about tactics, about his World Cup dream.”
She let out a short, mocking laugh.
“He couldn’t even come up with a decent bride price.”
“Couldn’t buy me a fully paid apartment downtown, either.”
“And now look at him. He pissed off the people running the Federation and got blacklisted on the spot.”
She tossed back her wavy hair, smug satisfaction flickering in her eyes.
“Good thing you got out when you did,” her friend said with a giggle behind her hand. “He doesn’t seriously think leaving the national team means he can still play in the World Cup, does he?”
Vanessa lifted her coffee and took a slow sip, contempt written all over her face.
“If Ethan Bennett makes it to the World Cup,” she said lightly, “I’ll go live online and apologize to him in front of everyone.”
Elsewhere, former national team coach Daniel Brooks sat alone in his office.
The press conference streamed on the screen in front of him. His brow was knotted tight.
The cigarette between his fingers trembled slightly.
“That kid…” he murmured. “Ethan Bennett is the most gifted player I’ve seen in years.”
Then he fell silent for a moment and took a long drag.
“But in the swamp that is domestic football, what good is talent by itself?”
Smoke drifted from his lips as he let out a weary sigh.
“You didn’t know how to play their game. Didn’t know how to flatter the people above you.”
“What a waste.”
He shook his head.
In the end, he still didn’t reach for the phone on his desk.
Back at the press conference, the official process had wrapped up. The executives left smiling, as if they’d just completed some routine bit of business.
The reporters surged toward Ethan like a flood, trapping him in a dead-end stretch of hallway.
Microphones were practically shoved into his face.
“Ethan, now that you’ve been permanently cut, are you saying goodbye to professional football for good?”
“No domestic club would dare sign you now. Are you planning to go work in a factory next?”
“Can you at least bow and apologize to the fans you let down?”
The room was a wall of noise.
Every question dripped with malice.
Ethan said nothing.
Then, after a few seconds, he slowly lifted his head.
His gaze swept across the crowd, sharp as a blade.
For one brief instant, the chaos around him actually quieted.
He looked straight into the camera at the center.
“Apologize?”
Chapter 2
His voice was calm, but it carried.
“The people who should apologize aren’t me. It’s the parasites on that stage who turned football in this country into a business.”
The entire room sucked in a breath.
Had he lost his mind?
Ethan’s expression never changed, but every word landed like iron.
“From today—from this second on—”
“Ethan Bennett and this country’s football establishment have nothing to do with each other.”
The reporters froze for half a beat, then went even crazier.
“So this is it? You’re just giving up?”
“If you’re not playing here, where exactly do you think you can go?”
“Who would even want you?”
Ethan ignored them.
He turned and looked at a promotional poster on the far wall.
2026 World Cup.
His eyes locked on it.
“Where am I going?”
When he spoke again, his voice was firm enough to shake the air.
“I’m going there to chase my dream.”
A burst of laughter exploded behind him.
“Chase your dream?”
“Yeah, right! Going as a tourist?”
“Or maybe as a cheerleader?”
Ethan didn’t smile.
His voice came out rough, but there was something in it that made people’s hearts tighten.
“Even if all I can do is stand in the crowd…”
“I’ll still see a real World Cup with my own eyes.”
Then he shoved past the reporters in front of him and strode out of the venue.
Behind him, shutters kept firing.
“He’s delusional!”
“He’s dreaming!”
…
Ethan walked alone down the street, the city moving around him in a blur.
Did he not want to fight for his country?
He wanted it more than anything.
He had dreamed about it for years.
But he would never crawl back and beg a pack of rotten parasites for the right to keep that dream alive.
“I won’t accept this.”
His fist clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palm.
“You people think you get to take my dream from me?”
Ding.
A strange voice rang out in his ears.
Clear. Weightless. Not human.
It felt as if it had come from somewhere beyond the world itself.
[Host’s football obsession has reached activation threshold.]
[Green Pitch Dominator System officially activated.]
Ethan stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.
A system?
He drew in a slow breath and forced down the tremor in his chest.
More than twenty years.
It had finally come.
[Host may earn various cards through official matches, training sessions, and mission objectives.]
[Warning.]
[System cards only activate during matches or official training.]
[Cards are subject to duration limits and cooldown limits.]
[Activation consumes host stamina. If stamina is depleted, severe physical collapse may occur.]
As the voice continued, Ethan was already analyzing.
“Only works on the pitch. So I can’t use it in everyday life.”
“There’s also cooldown… and stamina cost…”
He did the math almost instantly.
“So if my body can’t handle it and I force a card anyway… I could literally collapse on the field.”
The thought didn’t scare him.
Instead, something in him burned hotter.
“So this isn’t some brainless cheat that lets me sleepwalk to victory. If I want to use it, I still have to be strong enough myself.”
He let out a low laugh.
“But that’s exactly what makes competition worth it.”
The system spoke again.
[Starter gift pack delivered.]
[Obtained: Basic Physical Boost Card]
[Quality: Common]
[Effect: Can be assigned to improve speed, endurance, explosiveness, physical strength, and related attributes by 15%. Duration: 3 minutes.]
[Stamina Cost: 10]
[Cooldown: 30 minutes]
A pale white card, glowing faintly, appeared within his consciousness.
Ethan wanted to test it immediately.
“Use the Physical Boost Card.”
[Notice.]
[Cannot activate in a non-match environment.]
He paused, then shook his head and laughed.
“No loopholes at all, huh?”
“It really is forcing me back onto the pitch.”
His eyes lifted, and for the first time since the announcement, something fierce and alive flashed in them.
“Good,” he said softly. “That’s exactly what I want.”
Riverton. An aging apartment block.
Under the dim kitchen light, the dinner table felt suffocatingly quiet.
Ethan Bennett hadn’t flown out right away. He’d come home first.
“Eat some more. Look at you-you’ve lost so much weight I can barely recognize you.”
His mother’s eyes were red as she placed a huge piece of braised ribs into his bowl.
She had already seen the news. Even her hand trembled as she served him.
Across from him, his father sat in silence, smoking one cheap cigarette after another.
Smoke drifted through the cramped room.
The only sound was the steady ticking of the clock on the wall.
“Maybe… maybe you should stop playing,” Helen said at last, her voice breaking. “Come home. Find a proper job.”
She couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“I don’t want you going out there just to be humiliated again.”
Ethan felt his nose sting.
His eyes burned.
He set down his chopsticks and forced a smile anyway.
“Mom, I’m really okay. I just want to try one more time.”
“Just one last time.”
His father stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray with a sharp click.
Then he looked at Ethan and asked, in a low, heavy voice, “You’ve really made up your mind?”
Ethan met his gaze and nodded hard.
“I have.”
Chapter 3
“Before, I wanted to wear my country’s jersey and play in the World Cup. I wanted to win something for my country.”
“Now they don’t want me anymore, so I’ll get there another way.”
His father stared at him for a long time without speaking.
Then he rose and strode into the back room.
A moment later, he came back carrying an old, yellowed shoebox from the deepest corner of a cabinet.
“Take it.”
He dropped the box onto the table.
Ethan opened it and froze.
Inside lay a pair of worn old cleats, the leather scuffed and cracked with age.
They were the cleats he’d worn as a teenager when he’d won his first city championship.
“You’ve been stubborn since you were little. Once you decide something, not even ten horses could drag you back,” his father said.
“So if you’re going, then don’t come crawling home with your tail between your legs.”
“Go out there and make something of yourself.”
His father’s voice was rough, but the weight behind it landed like iron.
Holding the yellowed shoebox against his chest, Ethan felt heat surge into his eyes.
“Dad… don’t worry. I will.”
…
Two hours later, outside the airport.
Ryan Carter came sprinting over from a distance, breathing hard.
“Those idiots online don’t know a damn thing!” he barked, face flushed red with anger.
“They’ve got no idea you nearly wrecked your right leg trying to win for your country back then!”
“A bunch of keyboard clowns sitting there talking crap-they’re freaking disgusting.”
Looking at his furious best friend, Ethan was strangely calm instead.
He reached out, patted Ryan on the shoulder, and smiled faintly.
“Let it go, Ryan. There’s no point.”
“I stopped wanting to explain myself a long time ago. Nobody cares anyway.”
“What happens on a football pitch has to be settled on a football pitch.”
“Goals speak louder than explanations ever will.”
Ryan went still for a second.
Looking at the certainty in Ethan’s face, he asked carefully, “Ethan… if you go overseas, do you really have a shot at the World Cup?”
Ethan was silent for a moment.
He didn’t mention the system.
He only answered seriously, “Before? No.”
“But now… maybe I do.”
Ryan clenched his jaw.
Then, all of a sudden, he pulled a wrinkled bank card from his pocket and shoved it into Ethan’s coat.
“Take it. PIN’s my birthday.”
Ethan frowned and immediately tried to pull it back out.
“Are you insane? This is your money. I’m not taking it.”
“Cut the crap.”
Ryan locked a hand around his wrist, eyes wide.
“This is everything I’ve saved up over the years. My future-house, future-wife, all of it-whatever. You’re going abroad alone, so don’t make yourself suffer more than you have to.”
“If you really make it, you can pay me back ten times over. A hundred times over.”
Ethan looked at the deadly serious expression on his friend’s face and stopped refusing.
He nodded and tucked the card away close to his body.
“All right. When I make it, I’ll pay you back ten times. A hundred times.”
Soon after, Ethan boarded the flight.
Leaning back in his seat, he tried again.
In his mind, he said, “System, attempt to activate the Basic Physical Boost Card.”
[Ding!]
[Cannot be used outside a match or official training environment.]
Ethan clicked his tongue.
“Still locked down that tight, huh.”
“So I really do have to get on the field first.”
Meanwhile, back home, the internet was still exploding with talk about Ethan Bennett.
Some people had even spent the night digging up highlight clips from his league days-clips of him slicing past defenders with brilliant bursts of speed.
“To be fair, forget his personality for a second-the kid’s pace and vision really were on another level domestically.”
“Shame. His temper ruined him.”
But there were far more jeers than praise.
“If he’s that good, why didn’t any European club want him?”
“Because he blew up his own career, obviously. Who’d sign a dressing-room cancer like that?”
Riverton. An upscale cocktail bar.
The lights were low and suggestive, the music loud enough to shake the walls.
Vanessa Hayes wore a barely-there slip dress that showed off flashes of pale skin under the shifting lights.
One of her friends walked over with a drink in hand and held out her phone.
“Vanessa, look-someone snapped a picture of Ethan at the airport. He really did leave the country.”
Vanessa glanced at the photo of Ethan dragging his luggage through the terminal.
She let out a laugh, her face full of contempt.
“Left the country?”
“He’s just hiding from the backlash.”
“What, like going abroad suddenly means he’s actually going to play in the World Cup?”
“In this lifetime, he’ll never be anything but a joke who couldn’t even afford a wedding ring.”
More than ten hours later, the plane touched down in one of the North American host cities for the World Cup.
Ethan wheeled his suitcase out of the airport terminal.
The moment he stepped outside, a scorching wave of excitement slammed straight into him.
It was overwhelming.
Everywhere he looked, flags of every color snapped in the wind.
Massive promo posters of star players hung across glass-walled skyscrapers, each one dozens of feet high.
Fans filled the streets with faces painted in team colors, singing their national anthems at the top of their lungs.
Even the air itself seemed charged with adrenaline and sweat and restless hunger.
Ethan’s blood started to boil.
“So this… this is what the World Cup feels like.”
In the center of a public square, a giant screen looped the tournament promo reel.
Every frame made his pulse hammer.
Messi weaving through defenders in one of his trademark runs.
Cristiano Ronaldo smashing a shot with brutal force.
Neymar dancing through defenders with samba flair.
Mbappe exploding forward like a human missile.
And Haaland, Bellingham, and the rest of the new generation, roaring into the future.
The booming voice-over echoed through the whole district.