For a long moment, Ethan stood frozen in the tunnel, the roar of the crowd a distant hum compared to the golden glow of the notification in his mind.
Managerial Instinct. Your gut feeling just got an upgrade.
It was more than just prize money or experience points. The game was actively rewarding his football brain. It was sharpening his greatest weapon.
A euphoric, breathless laugh escaped his lips. He was so caught up in the moment that he barely noticed James Pearce giving him a curious look.
"You alright there, boss? You look like you just saw a ghost," his assistant said.
"Better," Ethan replied, a massive grin spreading across his face.
"I just saw the future."
He pushed through the tunnel entrance and into the joyous chaos of the dressing room. The atmosphere was electric. Players were shouting, laughing, and blasting celebratory music from a speaker.
Ashley Barnes was recounting his battle with the Bradford defenders with wild gesticulations, while a few younger players were gathered around Emre Demir, asking him to describe his wonder goal again.
Ethan clapped his hands, and the room gradually quieted down, the players turning to him with beaming, sweat-drenched faces.
"I have nothing to say," Ethan started, and a few players chuckled.
"You said it all out there on the pitch. Every single one of you.
That wasn’t just a win. That was a statement. We were disciplined, we were aggressive, and when the time came, we were brilliant. I am proud to be your manager today."
A chorus of "Hear, hear!" and applause filled the room.
"This is our foundation," Ethan continued, his voice filled with passion. "This feeling, right now? This is what we fight for every single week. Remember it. Bottle it up. Because we’re going to need it."
He then moved through the room, making a point to speak to key players. He found Grant Hanley icing his knee.
"Grant, that goal-line clearance was as important as either of Emre’s goals. That’s captain’s work. Thank you."
The veteran defender, a man of few words, just nodded, but the look of respect in his eyes was worth more than any speech.
"Just doin’ my job, gaffer."
He then cornered Ashley Barnes.
"You, my friend," Ethan said with a grin, "were an absolute menace. You changed the game the second you stepped on the pitch. That’s exactly what I wanted."
Barnes let out a hearty laugh.
"Glad to be of service, boss. Love getting stuck in."
Finally, he approached Emre Demir, who was quietly packing his bag, trying to stay out of the spotlight.
"Two goals on your debut," Ethan said softly, leaning against the locker next to him.
Emre looked up, a shy smile on his face. "I was lucky. The second one, Ash did all the hard work."
"It’s not luck when you do it twice," Ethan countered. "And it’s not luck that you sprinted seventy yards to be in that position. That’s hunger. I saw your XP notification pop up after the match. You’re already getting stronger. Keep working like that, and there’s no limit to what you can achieve with us."
The praise from his manager clearly meant the world to the young star. He stood up a little straighter. "I will, Coach. I promise."
"Alright everyone, listen up!" Ethan called out one last time. "Hit the showers. Get some food, get some rest. You’ve earned it. Training tomorrow is a light, recovery session. Then it’s a day off. Our next friendly is against Ipswich in two days. Let’s be ready."
With a final nod, he turned and exited the dressing room. He walked back through the now-empty tunnel, the phantom cheers still echoing in his ears, and ended the session.
The world swam back into focus. He was in his bedroom, the evening sun casting long shadows across the floor. He felt ravenous, his body demanding calories to match the mental and emotional energy he’d just expended.
He practically flew down the stairs.
"Mom, is there any leftover dinner?"
His mother smiled, pointing to a plate set aside for him.
"I had a feeling you’d be hungry after your big... match."
He devoured the food, his phone already in his hand, thumbs flying across the screen in a text to Leo.
The reply was instantaneous, as if Leo had been waiting by his phone.
Leo:NO WAY!!! DETAILS! NOW!
Ethan:Demir scored both. The first was a curler from outside the box. The second sealed it after I switched to a 4-4-2. The kid is a cheat code.
Leo:You switched to a 4-4-2 and it worked?! My manager!
Ethan:Get this. The game gave me a secret objective. ’Win with a tactical change that leads to a goal’.
Ethan:The reward was a new trait. ’Managerial Instinct’. It says it will give me flashes of insight during matches. My gut feeling got a passive buff!
Leo sent back a string of mind-blown emojis.
Leo:BRO. The game is upgrading YOU. This is next level. You’re not just playing it; you’re evolving with it.
Ethan grinned. Leo’s hype was infectious and validating. After finishing his meal and promising his sister he would, in fact, look at his university application forms "soon," he retreated back to his room.
The win was incredible, but it had also illuminated a clear need. His mind was already on to the next problem.
He didn’t lie down in the pod for the full simulation. Instead, he sat at his desk and accessed the game’s main menu through his computer, a feature for handling club business outside of match days. He clicked on the "Scouting & Transfers" tab.
His remaining budget stared back at him: £875,000.
It was a pittance. He couldn’t afford an established star. He couldn’t even afford a well-known prospect from a top league. He needed a diamond. A needle in a global haystack.
He opened the player search filter.
Position: Striker (ST)
Value: Less than £500,000
The system whirred for a moment before populating a list. There were hundreds of names, mostly grayed-out profiles from obscure clubs in leagues he’d barely heard of. To get a full report on any of them would cost a small portion of his scouting budget.
He had to choose who to scout very, very carefully.
He added more specific attributes to the filter, based on what he knew Emre needed.
Key Attributes: Pace, Acceleration, Off-the-Ball Movement, Finishing.
The list shrank dramatically. Now there were only a few dozen names. He scrolled through them, looking at the brief snippets of information available.
A 17-year-old from the Colombian second division. An 18-year-old from the Finnish league. A promising but raw talent from South Korea.
He was about to log off, feeling slightly discouraged, when he reached the very bottom of the list. One profile stood out, not because of the player’s name, but because of his club.
Player: Viktor Kristensen
Club: FC Midtjylland (Denmark)
Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. FC Midtjylland. They were famous in the real world for their revolutionary, data-driven approach to scouting and player development.
They were a factory for finding undervalued talent. If a player was in their system, they were there for a reason.
A 16-year-old valued at only £250k from a club like that? It seemed too good to be true. He must have a flaw. A terrible injury record, a poor personality, something.
With a trembling finger, Ethan clicked on the profile. The basic, unscouted attributes appeared. Most were average, as expected for a 16-year-old. But then he saw them. The four attributes he had filtered for. Next to each was a single, glowing, golden star.
Pace: ★ Thɪs chapter is updated by novel✶fire.net
Off-the-Ball Movement: ★
The game’s UI indicated that a golden star represented an attribute with exceptionally high growth potential—an S-Rank or higher ceiling.
This kid wasn’t just promising in one area. He was potentially elite in all four of the exact attributes Ethan was looking for.
He was a perfect, tailor-made partner for Emre Demir. And he was cheap. Suspiciously cheap.
A new objective burned in Ethan’s mind, brighter and more intense than any the game had given him so far.