Mathis suddenly opened his eyes and stared at the green pitch in front of him, his face clouded with confusion. He looked left and right, trying to understand where he was.
"Where the hell am I?"
He blinked several times and even slapped his own cheek to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
He clearly remembered going to sleep in his parents' house the night before, filled with excitement.
That day, he had been promoted from PSG's U17 team to the U19 squad. His father had picked him up from training, and Mathis had spent the entire ride home telling him every detail.
At dinner he had repeated the news to his mother. They had celebrated with a nice meal, and he had gone to bed looking forward to his first U19 training session.
Yet now he found himself sitting on a long bench by the side of a different pitch — this was not Paris.
Just as Mathis was lost in thought, someone poked him gently.
"Mathis, why are you spacing out like that? Are you okay?"
Mathis turned his head. The person speaking was a young man with a weathered but still youthful face.
Information instantly flooded into his mind: José Fonte, nineteen years old, Sporting CP B team defender. Although he was nearly twenty, he was still just a perpetual substitute in the reserves.
Before Mathis could answer, a sharp, mocking voice rang out nearby.
"What else could he be spacing out about? This trash is about to be kicked out and is already thinking about his way out after this."
Mathis froze.
The insult on his skill stung, but what shocked him even more was the part about being cut from the team.
How is that possible? he thought. Why am I suddenly at Sporting CP? And why would they cut someone as talented as me?
Everything felt wrong.
Yesterday he had been in Paris, a highly-rated prospect at PSG.
Today he was sitting on a bench in Portugal, and a complete stranger was insulting him in front of everyone.
Mathis stood up slowly. His gaze moved past Fonte, and a face with curly hair appeared in his sight.
New information appeared in his mind: Edgar Marcelino, a nineteen-year-old Portuguese local winger. He was a semi-regular player in the Sporting CP B team and had always been extremely hostile toward him.
The confusion deepened.
Web novels… transmigration… He had read many of those stories. If this is real, then what am I now?
Before he could spiral, a new set of memories merged with his own.
He was still Mathis Tsala, born in 1986 and now seventeen years old. In this life, his parents were ordinary football-loving people from Cameroon.
Seeing how passionate their son was, they had supported his dream despite their modest means.
After nearly ten years playing in local clubs back home, they had scraped together every euro they could to send him to Portugal for a trial at Sporting CP's youth academy.
However, unlike his previous life — where he had been hailed as a generational talent and the next big thing at PSG — his talent in this world was painfully average.
No matter how hard he trained, he had barely made it into the B team. Advancing further seemed almost impossible. If he failed to impress today, he would almost certainly be released.
Without the weekly €200 training subsidy, he would have to call his parents and ask them to send money for a plane ticket back to Cameroon.
What the hell is this? Mathis thought bitterly. I went from being PSG's biggest prospect to fighting for survival on Sporting's B team?
His body still felt fast and agile, yet the football world here treated him like a nobody.
On top of that, he was completely alone in a foreign country.
At least the memories of this body were intact. Without them, he would have been totally lost.
Just as he processed everything, Marcelino's mocking voice rang out again, louder this time.
"What's wrong, you have something to say? Today's match is your last chance! Shouldn't you be watching the game properly? Even if you're definitely getting cut out, you shouldn't treat it so lightly!"
Marcelino had spoken loudly on purpose. Sure enough, the coach sitting at the far end of the bench turned and gave Mathis a sharp, warning glare.
Anger surged inside Mathis. The memories told him the original owner of this body had been quiet and timid, but he was no longer that person.
In his previous life he had been a prodigy with pride.
He shot back immediately, his voice clear and sharp in fluent Portuguese:
"The fuck are you talking about? Did you suddenly become a mind reader? How would you know if I'm taking the game seriously or not? Mind your own damn business!"
Marcelino, used to Mathis never talking back, was stunned into silence for a moment.
A rush of satisfaction ran through Mathis.
Before he could continue, José Fonte turned around, using his body to block the line of sight between them, and said with a bitter smile.
"Alright, calm down, both of you. Focus on the game. Our situation isn't looking good right now."
Mathis snorted, not yet realizing he had spoken perfect Portuguese.
Just then, a cold mechanical voice sounded in his mind.
[Dimensional Merge Compensation Protocol activated.]
[Parallel World Entanglement detected.]
[Victim identity stabilized. Profession locked: Football Player.]
[System synchronization commencing… Binding complete.]
Mathis jolted slightly. Even though it was 2003, he understood enough to realize what this meant — he had merged with an alternate version of himself, and this system was the compensation.
He wasn't overly panicked. He had read countless web novels about transmigration.
He was simply curious what the system would offer him to fix this terrible situation.
As he waited, the system's voice rang out again:
[Newbie Gift Package drawing commencing…]
[Drawing complete.]
[Reward: One Luís Figo Replication Card]
[Usage scope: This match only. After activation, the host will possess all of Luís Figo's football skills and abilities for the duration of the game.]
Mathis's eyes lit up. He knew exactly who Figo was.
The Portuguese superstar had caused a massive scandal by moving from Barcelona to Real Madrid a few years earlier.
He had already won the Ballon d'Or and was still regarded as one of the best players in the world, even if he was past his absolute peak.
Even though I was considered the next big thing at PSG, I was not yet at Figo's level. He thought.
With this card and my prodigy mind, I can finally dominate.
It was a shame it could only be used for one match, but he still activated it immediately.
A powerful surge ran through his body.
Everything suddenly felt perfectly synchronized — even better than in his previous life at PSG.
Filled with excitement, Mathis looked eagerly toward the coach.
This is my moment. Put me on and watch me destroy them!
However, the coach barely glanced at him.
Although this was a B team match, it was an important derby against Benfica B.
With the score going badly, there was no way the coach would risk fielding a player everyone already saw as a destined failure about to be released.
So, despite the burning passion in Mathis's eyes, the coach ignored him completely.
At the start of the second half, he substituted Edgar Marcelino onto the pitch instead, looking to add more impact on the wing.
Mathis felt particularly sour inside.