World football system

The early morning sun filtered softly through the half-drawn blinds of the private maternity suite at St. Mary's Hospital in central London. The room was serene, modern, and warmly lit. A few feet from the large bed where Emilia lay resting, the rhythmic beeping of medical monitors provided a calm backdrop, a subtle soundtrack to the most important day of Tobi Oliveira's life.

A gentle knock at the door stirred Tobi from his light sleep in the armchair. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, adjusting to the soft morning light. The nurse entered with a warm smile, holding a clipboard.

"Good morning, Mr. Oliveira. Doctor Malik will be here shortly. How's the mum-to-be doing?"

Tobi stood, brushing the sleep from his eyes, and looked to Emilia, who lay with her hand over her round, full belly. She looked beautiful — exhausted, glowing, and radiant. Her dark curls were tied up messily, her features soft but strained.

"She's been calm," Tobi replied, walking over to take Emilia's hand. "We're both just... nervous."

The nurse chuckled. "That's expected. You two are about to become parents of four. You've both been incredible through this entire pregnancy."

Tobi nodded, trying to smile, though his stomach churned with anxiety. His fingers intertwined with Emilia's. She opened her eyes slowly, and their gazes met.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey, amor. How are you feeling?"

"Like there's a football team doing warm-ups in my stomach," she muttered with a breathy laugh.

Tobi laughed softly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "You're amazing. I love you so much."

She squeezed his hand. "You've said that a thousand times in the last hour."

"Because I mean it every time."

Just then, Doctor Malik walked in, flanked by two midwives. He offered a warm handshake to Tobi, then smiled at Emilia.

"Alright, Emilia. It's time."

Everything became a blur. Tobi changed into surgical scrubs, his hands trembling as he helped Emilia through every breath, every contraction. The cesarean had been planned — four babies were too much to risk a natural delivery. Tobi stood by her side in the operating room, clutching her hand as the procedure began.

Minutes ticked by like hours.

And then the cries.

First a boy. Then another.

Then the two girls, their tiny wails filling the sterile air like a choir of life.

Tobi's eyes were wet before he even saw them. Each baby was briefly shown to them, their cheeks plump, their hair dark and soft like Emilia's. The midwives gently swaddled each newborn and placed them into warm bassinets.

"Congratulations," Doctor Malik said with a proud grin. "Four beautiful, healthy babies — two boys, two girls."

Tobi leaned down, kissing Emilia's forehead, overwhelmed by emotion. She smiled up at him, tears streaking her face.

"We did it," she whispered.

"You did it, amor. They're perfect."

Later that evening...

The hospital room had been transformed into a cozy nursery suite. The babies rested in clear bassinets around the bed, labeled with names they had agonized over for months:

Emilia slept, completely exhausted, and Tobi stood by the window with his phone in hand, recording a video message for his sister Leonor.

"Hey, Nori," he said, voice cracking. "They're here. You're an aunt now. Four babies — can you believe that?"

He turned the camera to the bassinets, speaking softly as he showed each baby.

"I can't wait for you to meet them. I know you'll spoil them rotten. Emilia's okay, thank God. She's... she's everything. I don't even know how to describe how proud I am of her."

He paused the recording, walking over to each baby, checking every tiny breath, every soft sigh. He ran a gentle hand across each forehead, overwhelmed by the responsibility and love now tethered to his soul forever.

Meanwhile, across the world...

The footballing world erupted with congratulations. Arsenal's official page posted a heartwarming photo collage of Tobi and Emilia throughout her pregnancy, with a final image of the newborns' bassinets side-by-side. Messages poured in from teammates, rivals, coaches, and fans alike.

Arsenal manager Mikel Arteta visited later that night, a rare moment of coach and player bonding beyond football.

"You've built something beautiful, Tobi," Arteta said as he held baby Thiago in his arms. "This... this is more than trophies. It's legacy."

Tobi, sitting beside Emilia with Isla in his lap, nodded.

"I want to give them everything I never had. A home, love, a name they'll be proud of."

"You already are."

Midnight.

Tobi sat in the darkness of the room, lit only by the soft glow of night lights above the bassinets. Emilia stirred but didn't wake.

He opened his system.

[Life Goal: "Legacy Unlocked" – Father of Four: +100 Charm, +200 Willpower, +10 Charisma, Hidden Trait Activated: Protector]

[New Sub-System Branch: Family Management – Now Available]

Tobi's eyes widened.

So this was more than just football. The system recognized it too.

He sat back, breath shallow, eyes brimming. Everything had changed. A new season of his life had begun — one where the stakes were greater, the rewards deeper, and the meaning of victory entirely redefined.

Father. Partner. Champion.

The story was only just beginning.

The hospital room had quieted, the storm of nurses and doctors replaced by the warm hum of a resting family. Emilia lay asleep, pale but peaceful, her chest rising slowly beneath the blanket. Her hand still clutched Tobi's.

Tobi sat motionless in the cushioned chair beside the bed. His eyes were puffy and red, but not from sadness—he'd cried harder today than on the day they won the Champions League final. Not even lifting the Premier League trophy came close to the whirlwind of emotions he'd felt holding his children for the first time.

He looked to the transparent cribs on the other side of the room—four of them.

Two boys. Two girls.

Each of them wrapped tightly in little blankets, each bearing an ID tag that said: Oliveira.

"I'm a dad…"

The words felt foreign in his mouth as he whispered them again.

"Four of them…"

A soft knock tapped at the door. Tobi looked up, expecting a nurse—but instead, it was Mãe.

"Posso entrar, filho?" she asked gently.

He nodded. "Claro, mãe. Vem."

Mãe stepped in quietly, eyes instantly welling up at the sight of her sleeping daughter-in-law and the four tiny humans she had just brought into the world. She moved slowly, reverently, over to the cribs. One by one, she stared at each baby, her hand trembling as she placed it on the side of the nearest cot.

"Meu Deus… quatro," she whispered. Then she turned, wiping her cheek. "You okay?"

Tobi nodded again, but his voice cracked. "I don't even know how to feel. I'm scared, Mãe. I've never been this scared."

She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him. "That means you'll be a good father."

They stood there for a moment—just mother and son, no fame, no lights, no contracts—just two people in awe of the new lives added to their family.

Suddenly, Emilia stirred.

"Water…" she whispered.

Tobi moved fast, grabbing the bottle by the table. "Here, babe."

Her lips were dry and cracked, but she took a sip and then looked up at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Did I do okay?" she whispered.

"You did more than okay," he said, voice thick with emotion. "You were perfect."

She smiled faintly. "Do they have names yet?"

He chuckled nervously. "I was waiting for you."

Emilia blinked slowly. "Let's name the girls first…"

—

Later that evening…

The family sat around the hospital room—Mãe, Leonor (now visiting from Spain), and a few close friends. The mood was light, filled with quiet laughter and warm celebration.

"Alright, so what are their names?" Leonor asked with her typical curiosity.

Tobi glanced at Emilia, who nodded.

"Okay," he began, clearing his throat. "The first girl… her name is Ava Isabella Oliveira."

Mãe smiled. "Beautiful."

"The second girl… Luna Grace Oliveira."

"Aww," Leonor clapped lightly.

"The boys…" Tobi hesitated, then looked at Emilia.

She nodded. "Go on."

"The first boy is Mateo Elijah Oliveira. And the last… Noah Thiago Oliveira."

A silence followed, heavy with emotion, then Mãe spoke with tears in her eyes.

"Those are names that carry power… and peace."

—

The next day…

Tobi returned to the Emirates. Not to train—but to check in.

Coach Arteta had already heard the news. The entire team had. There was even a giant banner in the training ground that read:

"Welcome the Oliveira Quartet!"

Gabriel Martinelli was the first to hug him. "Four? Bro… you don't do anything halfway."

The squad laughed, and the warm vibe helped Tobi relax. He didn't know how long he'd be away—he planned on taking at least two weeks off—but he promised to stay sharp at home. Arteta clapped his back.

"You've earned this time, Tobi. Go be a father."

"I won't let the club down."

"I know you won't."

—

Back home that night…

Tobi was changing diapers for the second time that hour. Ava was crying. Luna was wide awake. Noah had already peed through his onesie. Mateo was the only one asleep.

"Why didn't anyone tell me being a father is harder than beating Bayern Munich away?" he grumbled.

Emilia, watching from bed with a sleepy smirk, teased, "Because then you wouldn't have done it."

He shot her a look, then grinned.

Despite the chaos, Tobi felt grounded. Happy. Whole.

The new arc of his life had begun—not just as a footballer, or as Arsenal's golden boy—but as something much deeper.

As a father.

As a husband-to-be.

As a man building a legacy that would last long after the boots were hung up.