The ache in Leon's hip was a dull throb, a souvenir from Haaland's thunderous shot.
But it was a small price to pay. As he finally limped out of the dressing room, the cheers of the winning Manchester City squad still faintly audible from their side of the tunnel, a strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration surged through him.
Four-two. A loss. But for Leon, it felt like a victory of a different kind.
He had faced giants, and he hadn't just survived; he'd made an impact.
"Fischer! You were immense, mate!"
It was Ollie Watkins (Current: 86), catching up to him, a broad grin on his face.
"That goal! The touch, the finish, absolute class. And that assist for my goal, don't even get me started. You saw something none of us did."
He clapped Leon on the back, carefully avoiding his hip.
John McGinn (Current: 84), always the motivator, nodded.
"He's right, Leon. You changed that game in the last twenty minutes. Showed them what you're made of."
Douglas Luiz (Current: 85) added, "Your interceptions too. You were everywhere. You learned fast."
Leon felt a warm glow spread through him, overriding the physical pain.
To hear such praise from players he looked up to, players with 'Current' ratings that soared above his own 79, was incredibly validating.
"Thanks, guys. It was… a lot. But I saw things. Like, really saw them."
He still couldn't quite explain the ghostly projections without sounding crazy, but the feeling of understanding, of seeing the future of the play, was a secret power he now knew he possessed.
Coach Emery, though disappointed with the result, had also given Leon a brief, firm handshake after the match, his eyes conveying a silent message of approval.
"Keep learning, Fischer. This is just the start."
Leaving the stadium, the raw energy of the crowd was slowly dissipating, replaced by the cool night air. Leon spotted Byon waiting near the team bus, a determined look on his face.
"Leon! That was... unbelievable!" Byon (Current: 78) exclaimed, his voice hushed with awe.
"That goal! And the assist! I swear, you moved like you knew exactly where everyone was going to be!"
Leon grinned. "Maybe I did," he teased, nudging his friend.
"It was like the game slowed down, and I could just… read it." He didn't elaborate on the new 'sight' aspect, but Byon's knowing look suggested he understood Leon's unique way of seeing things.
Byon's face then clouded slightly.
"Makes me even more nervous for my assessment, though. Yours was brilliant, mine needs to be even better now. Mr. Davies expects consistency, right?"
"Hey," Leon said firmly, stopping Byon and looking him in the eye.
"Don't let that get to you. You've been amazing in training. You just focus on playing your game, making smart decisions, and showing them that consistency. We'll work every day until then."
He clapped Byon on the shoulder. "We do this together, remember? You're next, partner."
Byon managed a small, hopeful smile.
"Yeah. You're right. Thanks, Leon." His determination seemed to flicker back, a quiet resolve returning to his eyes.
Leon finally made it home, the familiar comfort of his house a welcome embrace after the electric chaos of the stadium.
The front door opened before he could even put his key in, his mother standing there, her face etched with a mixture of worry and immense pride.
"Leon! My boy!" She pulled him into a tight hug, much tighter than usual.
"Are you alright? That block… it looked so painful! And they were so fast, those City players!" Her hands immediately went to his hip, checking for injury.
"Mom, I'm fine, really," Leon said, gently pushing her hands away, though the concern in her eyes made his heart ache a little.
"Just a bruise. Nothing serious."
She still looked at him, her brow furrowed.
"But, Leon, it was so intense. Four-two. You were running constantly. You're only sixteen, my love. Is this… is this too much? The pressure, the tackles, the speed of it all?"
Leon took her hands, his voice softening.
"Mom, it's never too much. This is what I've worked for, what I've dreamed of. Yes, it's hard. But it's also… incredible.
That feeling when you make that pass, when you score, when the crowd roars. There's nothing like it." He looked at her, truly, deeply, wanting her to understand the depth of his passion.
She searched his eyes, and slowly, the worry in hers began to recede, replaced by that familiar look of understanding and unwavering belief.
"I know, my dear. I know. Just… promise me you'll always be careful. And that you'll tell me if it ever does become too much."
"I promise," he said, pulling her into another hug, the warmth of her love a soothing balm after the bruising encounter with City.
The next day, Leon felt a strange sensation.
His hip was sore, but his mind was buzzing. He decided to take a short walk to the local corner shop for some snacks, a small piece of normalcy amidst the whirlwind of professional football.
He pulled on a hoodie, hoping to go unnoticed.
As he reached the checkout with a bag of crisps and a drink, the young lad behind the counter, barely older than Leon himself, paused.
He looked at Leon, then at the small Villa crest on his backpack.
"Hey," the lad said, his eyes widening.
"Are you… are you Leon Fischer? The one who played against City yesterday?" His voice was a mix of awe and disbelief.
Leon felt a blush creep up his neck. This was new.
"Yeah, that's me," he mumbled, trying to act casual.
"No way!" The lad leaned closer.
"Dude, that goal! And that assist for Watkins! My dad was going mad. Said you were brilliant. Said you're the real deal!"
He quickly scanned Leon's items. "On the house, mate. Seriously. That was incredible."
Leon was momentarily speechless. "Oh, no, you don't have to–"
"Nah, seriously," the lad insisted, waving his hand. "Consider it a thank you. You were awesome!"
Leon walked out of the shop, his snacks forgotten, a strange, floaty feeling in his chest. Public recognition. It was a bizarre, humbling, and slightly exhilarating experience.
It was another sign that his life was truly changing, pushing him onto a bigger stage.
The rest of the week at the academy was intense.
Leon spent hours analyzing his new 'sight,' trying to consciously interpret the ghostly outlines.
A shimmering arc from foot to player meant a pass. A ghostly leg cocked back meant a shot.
An outstretched foot meant a tackle or block. He practiced in drills, looking for the cues, anticipating, reacting. His 'Current' rating solidified at 80, a solid number, but he knew he needed to push it higher, to master this new aspect of his ability.
Byon, meanwhile, was a man possessed.
His training intensity was through the roof. Leon ran extra drills with him, constantly challenging his decision-making, forcing him to think faster, to look for the optimal pass or shot rather than the flashy dribble. Byon's 'Current' rating slowly but surely climbed to 79, a fantastic achievement, and Leon saw his confidence surge with every successful drill.
"You're ready, Byon," Leon told him after their final pre-assessment training session.
"You've worked harder than anyone. Just go out there and show them what you can do."
Byon nodded, a serious look on his face. "I will, mate. For both of us."
As the week drew to a close, Coach Emery gathered the first team for the pre-match briefing.
The FA Cup was behind them; their focus was back on the Premier League.
"Next match," Emery announced, his voice firm, "is at home. Against Newcastle United."
A murmur went through the room. Newcastle. A tough, physical team, known for their relentless pressing and passionate fans.
Their star midfielder, Bruno Guimarães (Potential: 89, Current: 87), was a powerhouse.
Alexander Isak (Potential: 88, Current: 86) up front was always a threat.
This would be another brutal test.
"We need to respond," Emery continued.
"Show character. Show strength. And Leon..." He paused, his gaze fixed on Leon.
"You will start again. In midfield. We need your vision. We need your fight."
Leon's heart leaped into his throat again. Starting. Again. In the Premier League.
The 'Current' ratings of the Newcastle players flashed in his mind: Guimarães, Isak, Kieran Trippier (Potential: 86, Current: 85)—all formidable.
He felt the familiar rush of nerves and excitement.
This was his chance to prove that the performance against City wasn't a fluke.
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A/N: Your support means a lot. Feel free to leave a comment!