World football system-Chapter 74: The Road Back Begins

The ceiling above him was unfamiliar.

Tobi Oliveira blinked slowly, wincing as pain throbbed through his left ankle and up to his calf. The sterile scent of disinfectant and the distant beeping of medical monitors told him everything he needed to know. He was in the hospital.

Again.

The injury from that date with Emilia had hit him harder than expected—mentally more than physically. At the time, the twist had seemed mild. He had laughed it off, insisted he was fine, even cracked a joke about it being karma for trying to impress his girlfriend with a ridiculous jump shot into a fountain coin pool. But by the next morning, his ankle had ballooned, and a deep pain had settled in. An MRI had confirmed a high ankle sprain with minor ligament damage—enough to sideline him for four to six weeks.

Tobi let out a slow breath. That was already two matches missed. Two matches on the bench. Two matches without him in the red and white of Arsenal.

The door opened quietly, and Emilia stepped in, holding a paper cup of coffee. Her eyes met his, and immediately her face brightened.

"You’re awake," she whispered, walking over and placing the cup on the bedside table.

Tobi offered a faint smile. "Barely. This bed’s not made for footballers."

She laughed gently and took his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. "Coach was here earlier. He said to rest. They’re being cautious."

"They should be. But I hate this. I can’t sit around while the team fights without me."

"You don’t have a choice, Tobi. You need to recover properly."

His fingers gripped hers tighter. He knew she was right, but it didn’t make the frustration burn any less.

Back at the Arsenal training ground a week later, Tobi sat on a bench with his crutches leaning beside him, watching his teammates run drills. The pain had lessened, and the swelling had gone down, but he was still doing rehab work with the physio.

"I miss the rhythm of the pitch," he murmured to himself.

Emile Smith Rowe jogged past and called out, "Don’t worry, superstar. We’ll keep your spot warm."

Tobi forced a grin, hiding the ache in his chest. But beneath the surface, doubts were brewing.

Was his body betraying him again? Was the dream slipping?

Later that night, back in his flat, Tobi opened his system interface—something he hadn’t dared to check since the injury. The holographic panel glowed blue in the dark room.

[SYSTEM STATUS]

Overall Fitness: 72 (-10)

Sprint Speed: 84

Agility: 79

Match Readiness: 56 (-25)

A sharp exhale left him. It was worse than he thought.

[NEW MISSION: Road to Redemption]

Objective: Regain full fitness and match form within 21 days.

Reward: +5 Resilience, +5 Fan Approval, +2 Vision.

Tobi stared at it. Twenty-one days? The physio said four to six weeks.

But something inside him sparked. The old fire. The part of him that refused to go down.

He tapped into the mission.

[Accepted.]

Tomorrow, the road back would begin.

The steady rhythm of the treadmill beneath Tobi’s feet echoed through the private training room, a slow, controlled cadence that spoke of caution more than speed. Sweat clung to his brow despite the air conditioning humming quietly overhead. Every step was deliberate, every motion monitored. His eyes flicked occasionally to the mirror ahead, catching his own reflection: a ghost of the player he’d been before the injury.

But he was coming back.

"You’re doing good, mate," said Arsenal’s physio, Rob, his accent as thick as his patience. "Don’t rush it. We’re aiming for longevity, not headlines."

Tobi gave him a nod but said nothing. His mind was elsewhere — not just on the dull ache in his thigh or the way the scar tissue tugged with each stride, but on the fire burning behind his ribs. He was missing matches. He was missing moments. Life wasn’t pausing for him.

Especially not Emilia.

It had been a week since their last proper date — the one that ended in the unfortunate misstep and subsequent fall that led to his hamstring injury. Guilt still gnawed at him. Not at her, but at the fact that for once, he’d let his guard down, let himself be a teenage boy in love, and it had cost him time on the pitch.

But even more than guilt, there was fear. Fear that Arsenal might move on. That Mikel Arteta might favor someone else. That the fans would forget. That the System, quiet and observant lately, was watching his doubt fester.

Ding!

The treadmill slowed as the 30-minute timer hit zero. Rob walked over and handed him a towel.

"Same time tomorrow. You’ll do another light jog before we step into directional sprints next week."

"Thanks, Rob," Tobi replied quietly.

He wiped the sweat from his face, unplugged his earphones, and stepped down, rolling his shoulders. The pain wasn’t gone, but it was manageable.

And so was the silence.

At least, until the System stirred.

> [SYSTEM MISSION AVAILABLE] Mission: Reinforce Recovery with Mental Focus Duration: 7 Days Requirements: No social media, 2 hours of tactical study per day, 1 emotional check-in with Emilia, daily meditation, weekly psychologist session. Reward: +3 Recovery Speed, +2 Mental Toughness, Unlock: ’Mind over Muscle’ Passive Skill

Tobi read it twice.

"No social media..." he muttered. That meant no updates, no reposts, no Instagram Lives. It meant isolation — or something close to it.

But he knew he needed this.

> Accept Mission?

His thumb hovered for a moment over the virtual screen only he could see — then he pressed ACCEPT.

---

Back at his apartment, the walls seemed louder than usual.

Leonor was on a call with their mother back home, chatting away in a mix of English and Portuguese. Tobi listened from the kitchen as he poured himself a glass of water.

"You saw how slow he was jogging today?" she was saying with a cheeky smile. "He looks like he’s thirty!"

"I heard that!" Tobi called out, grinning.

Leonor stuck her tongue out at him from the hallway. "I meant it with love."

"Sure you did." fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

He moved to the couch, stretching his legs carefully. The pain was dull now, the inflammation mostly gone. It was progress.

Still, progress felt like nothing when matchday came and you weren’t on the lineup.

---

Matchday: Arsenal vs. Tottenham (North London Derby)

Tobi sat high in the Emirates box seats, dressed in the club suit, surrounded by reserve players and staff. The crowd was thunderous, the stadium pulsing with energy. The sun glared off the turf, casting long shadows. He clenched his jaw watching his teammates warm up — Saka, Martinelli, Ødegaard — all in motion.

He should be down there.

The whistle blew, and the match roared to life. Arsenal dominated early, possession fluid and sharp. But something was missing — a killer instinct. The kind of sharp movement and final ball Tobi knew he could deliver in his sleep.

At halftime, it was 0-0.

As they came off the pitch, Mikel Arteta glanced toward the stands and caught Tobi’s eyes. There was no expression, just a subtle nod. Tobi returned it.

And then Emilia texted.

> You okay? I miss you...

He hesitated.

The mission said one emotional check-in per day. It didn’t mean a full conversation. But...

> I miss you too. Watching the game. Wish I was out there.

The typing dots danced.

> You’ll be back stronger. I know it. Want to come over after? Just to talk.

> Just talk?

> Maybe more. 😏

Tobi felt heat rise to his ears. He grinned despite himself. The System dinged again:

> Emotional Check-In Complete. +1 Mental Resilience.

He didn’t realize how badly he needed that boost.

---

Later that night, at Emilia’s apartment, the mood was quieter than usual. The TV was on low, a bowl of popcorn half-empty between them.

"You’re healing faster than they expected," she said, brushing her fingers over his knee gently.

"Yeah. System’s helping."

She tilted her head. "You never talk about it much anymore. The System."

"It’s... complicated. It’s more than just power-ups and speed boosts. It’s like a second brain sometimes. A mirror. A burden."

Emilia didn’t pretend to understand. She just scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder. "Just promise me something."

"What?"

"Don’t lose yourself in trying to be perfect. You’re already enough."

Tobi closed his eyes.

That night, he didn’t dream of football. He dreamed of her.

---

Six Days Later

He was back on the pitch — not in a match, but on the training ground. The stiffness was gone. His directional sprints were clean. The physio had cleared him for ball work, and he was eager.

Ben White jogged over and slapped him on the back.

"’Bout time, superstar."

"I didn’t miss your sarcasm."

"Good. ’Cause I’m not changing."

Training was intense. Tobi relished every second, every pass, every sharp turn, every burst of acceleration. He was still cautious — he had to be. But his body was responding better than expected.

And the System had one last surprise.

> Mission Complete. Rewards Granted: +3 Recovery Speed, +2 Mental Toughness. New Passive Skill Unlocked: Mind Over Muscle — Increases pain tolerance and emotional clarity under pressure.

> Skill Description: Focuses adrenaline to reduce the impact of pain, panic, or injury-related hesitation in high-pressure situations.

He blinked.

That... could change everything.

He texted Emilia that night:

> Dinner on me. And maybe a dance.

> A dance? In your condition?

> I’ve got a new skill: Mind over Muscle.

> You’re such a dork.

> A dork who’s coming back.

---

By the end of the week, Tobi stood in front of the full Arsenal squad during pre-match briefings. He wasn’t in the starting XI. But he was on the bench.

And when Arteta looked at him, there was no question in the coach’s eyes.

Soon.

Very soon.

He’d be back on that pitch.

And when he returned, he’d be stronger than ever — not just in body, but in heart, in mind, and in resolve.

---