The scent of aloo parathas hit Neil before he even opened his eyes.
It wasn't a dream. He was still here—2017, back in his old bed, with his ancient fan spinning above him like a half-drunk Beyblade. A cracked phone charger dangled from the socket like a snake mid-yawn.
Neil sat up and blinked at the ancient wallpaper on his phone: a low-res photo of him and his academy squad at the U-17 camp. One of them had since gone viral for becoming a meme goalkeeper. Another played semi-pro in Gujarat. Neil? He died at thirty with knees made of disappointment.
Not anymore.
He rubbed his eyes just as the system pinged softly in his mind.
[Skill Integration Complete: Streetwise Bargaining (C)]
He blinked. It didn't feel like lightning. More like… intuition. As if people had suddenly become easier to read—tics, tone, hesitation. He could practically predict when someone was about to lie. This was like downloading street smarts into his brain.
As he walked into the kitchen, his mom slid a paratha onto his plate and raised an eyebrow. "Extra butter?"
Neil smirked. "You know I'll never say no to butter, Maa."
She smiled, but her expression lingered longer than usual. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I feel like I dodged one," he muttered, more to himself.
After scarfing down breakfast and stuffing an extra paratha into foil, he laced up his boots and headed for the local training ground near the colony. The pitch hadn't changed—same crooked goalposts, same faded lines, same slightly damp air that screamed Delhi monsoon.
He kept his head down, hoodie up.
There were already a bunch of boys training—some from the national U-17 camp, others from nearby academies hoping to catch a scout's attention. Neil spotted Dheeraj Singh in goal again, calmly intercepting a low shot. Cool as ever.
A group of kids leaned against the fencing nearby, chatting while sipping sodas and nudging one another with excitement.
"Ferran Torres is gonna be insane in this World Cup, bro."
"Yeah, but did you see that Foden guy? Man dribbles like the ball owes him money."
"India's got talent too, na. Wait till the tournament starts. I heard Jeakson Singh's headers are no joke."
Neil slowed his jog.
They weren't hyping names from posters. They were talking about now. This moment. The future wasn't written yet.
And this time, I'm not letting it slip through my fingers.
He turned his gaze toward the players on the field. His system kicked in like a sixth sense—an invisible display that only he could see, floating above their heads like gamer tags.
[Jeakson Singh]– Aerial Supremacy (B): Score a contested header during a scrimmage against him.– Stamina Engine (C): Outlast him in a 1v1 endurance drill.– Tactical Awareness (C): Successfully read and intercept two of his positional runs.
That B-grade heading skill shimmered in Neil's mind like treasure. Jeakson wasn't flashy, but he had the kind of presence that grounded a midfield—and when he rose for a header, it felt like the pitch paused to let him land.
Neil jogged onto the grass, caught the coach's eye, and slipped into the scrimmage.
It was casual—no strict teams, just flowing play. But the competitive tension? Oh, that was real. Every kid on that pitch was fighting for a national spot. And in this chaos, Neil needed one thing.
A cross. A moment. A duel.
He drifted toward the left wing, pulling defenders with subtle feints. The ball came to his feet and he flicked it wide. His teammate curled it into the box. Jeakson tracked back instantly, reading the ball like a chess master.
Neil surged forward.
Their eyes met for a split second in the air.
Then he jumped.
Bodies collided—Jeakson's solid shoulder met Neil's ribs—but Neil twisted just enough to get above him. His forehead connected with the ball midair.
Thud.
It wasn't a rocket. It wasn't even on goal. But it was clean. A perfect contest. Right in the condition.
Neil stumbled as he landed, his pulse pounding. No sound from the system yet, but his gut said it was close.
Later, as the scrimmage wound down, Neil walked off the pitch, sweat dripping into his eyes.
"Header connected. It felt clean.""Now let's see if that was enough to crack the code."
He grabbed his water bottle and flopped onto the grass. Around him, the world buzzed forward like nothing had changed.
But Neil knew better.
His second life had already begun. And he'd just stepped into his first real battle.