The System Turned Football's Worst Prospect Into a Monster.

Chapter 104: Volume 2, Chapter 104: 2 Goals, 2 Assists Againts Portimonense.

The printed team sheet fluttered slightly against the clip of the white plastic tactics board hanging inside the away changing room at the Estádio Municipal de Portimão.

Rayan read his name once, then read it again.

LF: Rayan El Mansouri

Pedro Gonsalves leaned over his shoulder, double-checking his own shift down into the central midfield unit. When Pedro glanced sideways, noticing the teenager’s gaze glued to the paper, Rayan smoothly reached out, unclipped the corner, folded the sheet into a neat quarter, and casually tossed it onto the wooden bench beside his kit bag. He kept his expression flat, as if starting for Sporting’s first team were an expected formality. But as he sat down to pull on his boots, his hands moved with an aggressive, restless rhythm. He yanked the laces twice as tight as usual, smoothed down the front of his green-and-white hooped shirt, and re-adjusted his shin pads three times before standing up.

Rui Amorim gathered the squad in a tight circle near the doorway, holding a whiteboard marker.

"Rayan," Rui said, pointing the cap of the pen straight at him. "Inside the structure, you have full freedom. You can attack the full-back on the outside, drive into the channel, or combine early. But keep the space usable for everyone."

Rayan nodded once. "Understood, boss."

Across the tunnel, Portimonense’s right-back, Filipe Relvas, was already locked in quiet conversation with his defensive midfielder.

"The kid likes to cut back on his right," Relvas murmured, adjusting his tape. "When he receives wide, don’t jump out. Force him outside. If he comes inside, I step across and you take the runner."

The whistle blew under the bright Algarve afternoon sun. From the opening minute, Portimonense showed they weren’t going to lie down. Their forward line pressed aggressively, forcing Coatez into two early aerial duels, and in the twelfth minute, a fast transition down Sporting’s right flank allowed Portimonense’s winger to slip a low cross into the box, where their striker turned it past the keeper to open the scoring.

Sporting didn’t panic. Coatez clapped his hands, a loud, booming crack that echoed across the pitch. "Shape! Reset now!"

Eight minutes later, the response arrived. Salvador Almeida collected a loose clearance in midfield and played a crisp, diagonal pass to Rayan on the left touchline. Relvas closed down instantly, keeping his body angled to cut off the inside drive, while the covering midfielder hovered three yards behind him.

Rayan didn’t hesitate. He showed Relvas the inside touch, dropping his shoulder, before suddenly dragging the ball down the line with an explosive burst of pace. Relvas reached out a hand, but Rayan blew past his outside shoulder.

"Early!" Victor Gyoker roared, charging toward the front post on a curved diagonal sprint.

Before the covering midfielder could cross over to block the passing lane, Rayan cut a hard, low ball backward across the six-yard box. Gyoker arrived a fraction of a second ahead of the centre-back, smashing a first-time strike into the roof of the net.

Rayan raised a fist, but before he could celebrate, Coatez’s voice boomed from the backline. "Back in shape! move up!"

Portimonense adjusted immediately. On the next attack, as Rayan received the ball near the left flank, the covering midfielder drifted wider, positioning himself specifically to cut off the early cutback to Gyoker.

Rayan saw the shift instantly. With the cutback lane blocked, a narrow seam opened between Relvas and the covering midfielder. Rayan drove straight at Relvas’s inside leg, threatening another pass. The defender froze, expecting the release. Instead, Rayan unleashed a sharp, double-touch acceleration, carrying the ball directly through the open channel. He split both recovering defenders through sheer burst speed, stepped into the penalty area, and stroked a cool, low finish past the goalkeeper’s outstretched leg before the central defender could cover.

Two-one.

The match opened up, and Sporting’s quality began to pull the game apart. On the opposite wing, Duarte Faria was producing an absolute masterclass in subtle execution. In the thirty-fifth minute, Duarte received a difficult, bouncing ball on the right edge of the box. With a defender glued to his back, Duarte used a light, disguised touch with the outside of his boot, shifting his body orientation to freeze the entire backline before sliding a weighted pass to Pedro, who tapped in Sporting’s third. Five minutes later, Duarte claimed a goal of his own, controlling a cross, shifting tempo with a soft fake, and curling a precise right-footed shot into the top corner.

"Hold your line, Rayan!" Salvador yelled as Portimonense tried to counter just before half-time. Rayan had drifted three yards too high, leaving space behind him. "Cover the inside!"

Rayan checked his stride, dropped back four yards to seal the passing lane, and intercepted the attempted clearance, immediately correcting his positioning.

By the sixty-fifth minute, Sporting led four-one, but Rayan wasn’t finished. Receiving a short pass from Salvador near the corner of the penalty box, Rayan shaped his body as if he were about to unleash a curling shot toward the far post. The Portimonense centre-back stepped out, attempting to block the effort.

Instead of shooting, Rayan disguise-passed a return ball straight through the defender’s legs into the path of Pedro, who had made a late run into the box. Pedro took one touch and slotted it low into the bottom corner.

Pedro trotted over to Rayan, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "I suppose you’ll claim you meant to nutmeg him."

"He opened his legs," Rayan said, giving him a quick tap on the shoulder. "Not my fault."

"Just keep giving me the ball, kid," Pedro replied with a dry smirk.

The final contribution came in the seventy-fourth minute. Sporting circulated the ball down the right side through Duarte and Salvador. Gyoker occupied both central defenders near the front post, dragging the entire Portimonense defensive block toward the ball-side.

Rayan drifted out to the far left, staying completely stationary outside Relvas’s peripheral vision. He waited, watching the full-back’s shoulders turn toward the ball. The moment Relvas fully committed his chest to the right side of the pitch, Rayan exploded into a blind-side run behind him.

Salvador spotted the movement from the midfield channel, clipping a pristine, diagonal cross over the defensive line. Rayan met the dropping ball on the volley at the back post, cushioned it cleanly into the far corner, and completed a commanding performance.

Sporting 6, Portimonense 1.

"Rayan!" Rui called from the touchline, gesturing toward the bench. The fourth official held up the board showing number 82.

Rayan jogged off the pitch to a warm round of applause from the travelling Sporting supporters. He shook Rui’s hand, exchanged high-fives with the substitutes, and took his seat on the bench, wrapping a warm towel around his shoulders.

An hour later, in the quiet interior of the team bus heading back to the Algarve hotel, Rayan pulled out his phone. A translucent, smoked-black panel materialised silently over the screen.

[HIGH-IMPACT SENIOR PERFORMANCE RECORDED.]

[Dominance Chain initiated.]

[Match output: 2 goals, 2 assists.]

Rayan scrolled past the match stats. The two goals and two assists satisfied him, proving his efficiency in a full senior match, but his eyes locked onto the top of the tactical review sheet attached to the report: Starting Left Forward. The word Starter carried a weight that a bench cameo never could.

Below the summary, a glowing prompt flickered at the bottom of the System interface:

[FUSION PATHWAY DETECTED.]

[Compatible Skills Synced: Explosive Exit + Body Feint.]

[Fusion Pathway Available: Explosive Deception.]