The news came quietly, like a whisper in the corridors of Garen Athletic's training facility. Kellan De Vries had been approached by Charlton United, one of the top clubs across the sea. Their scouts had been following him for months, intrigued by the quiet boy who controlled games with intelligence rather than speed alone.
Kellan read the email alone in his small apartment. He sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes scanning the words over and over. An opportunity to move abroad. To challenge himself against stronger, faster, older players. To step into a world he had only dreamed about. His heartbeat was steady, but inside, a storm of emotions churned. Excitement, fear, anticipation — and the familiar quiet determination that had always guided him.
Henrik and Alena arrived later that evening. They sat across from him at the kitchen table, the room warm with the smell of Alena's cooking. Henrik cleared his throat. "It's big, son," he said. "Bigger than anything here in Beldora. You'll face challenges you can't imagine. But you're ready."
Alena reached over and touched his hand. "Remember, Kellan. Talent opens doors, but character keeps them open. This will test both."
Kellan nodded quietly, absorbing their words. He didn't need encouragement. He had been tested before — the rejection from the foster family, the early years at Grenn, the pressure of breaking into the first team — and he had survived. This was just another step.
Two weeks later, he was on a plane. The hum of the engines was hypnotic, a steady reminder that the world was bigger than Dronen or even Garen. He stared out the window as the clouds passed beneath him, thinking of the muddy pitches where he had first learned rhythm. Everything he had done up to this moment had led to this leap into the unknown.
Charlton United's training complex was a world apart from anything Kellan had seen. Pristine fields stretched endlessly, gym facilities gleamed under harsh fluorescent lights, and the locker rooms smelled of leather, sweat, and ambition. Coaches were precise, demanding, and unyielding. Players were fast, strong, and competitive. The environment was intimidating, even for someone who had already faced pressure at Garen and with the national team.
On his first day, Kellan stepped onto the field quietly, boots laced tight, eyes scanning the surroundings. The senior players didn't pay him much attention — newcomers were common, and expectations were high. But as soon as training began, his movements spoke for him. He controlled the ball, anticipated runs, and found spaces where others didn't. By the end of the session, a few older players approached him, impressed. "You're calm for a kid," one said. "But you see the game like someone twice your age."
For Kellan, it wasn't about impressing anyone. It was about adapting, learning, and proving — mostly to himself — that he belonged. Every drill was a lesson, every pass a test. Nights were spent alone in his new apartment, replaying sessions in his mind, writing notes in his notebook. Observe, anticipate, act. Control is more than skill. Patience wins space. The words felt like lifelines, reminders that focus was his advantage.
The first friendly match arrived sooner than expected. Kellan was given a chance to play off the bench. The stadium was half-full, the crowd buzzing with curiosity. He entered during the second half, the tempo frantic, the ball moving faster than he had ever encountered. But Kellan adapted seamlessly. Every touch was measured, every pass precise. Within minutes, he had split defenders with a subtle movement that led to a goal. The crowd cheered, but he didn't celebrate. He jogged back to position, calm, eyes alert.
Off the field, life abroad was lonely at first. Language barriers, cultural differences, and distance from family weighed on him. Most young players would have struggled. Kellan observed, adapted, and found small routines that kept him grounded. Training, meals, notes, sleep — the rhythm he had mastered since Dronen remained his anchor.
Within months, his influence at Charlton United grew. Coaches spoke of his "game intelligence" and "quiet authority," teammates began to rely on him, and analysts back in Beldora took notice. His move abroad, which had seemed daunting at first, became another step in his journey — a stage where the lessons of rejection, patience, and persistence converged.
One evening, after a rigorous training session, Kellan stood by the window of his apartment, looking at the city lights shimmering in the distance. He thought of Dronen, Grenn, and the Verhoevens' rejection that had once hurt so deeply. Every obstacle had shaped him. Every quiet moment had prepared him for this stage.
He opened his notebook and wrote simply: The bigger the stage, the quieter the mind.
And in that quiet, Kellan De Vries felt ready for everything that awaited him.