The 2-0 victory over Shrewsbury had been a different kind of win—calm, professional, and utterly dominant. It was the victory of a team that was starting to believe in its own superiority.

"And that, my friends," Kenny McLean was saying, a professorial look on his face, "is what we call 'game management'. No drama, no heart attacks, just a quiet, efficient dismantling of the opposition."

"Speak for yourself!" David Kerrigan retorted from across the room, where he was polishing his boots with a towel. "I was bored. I nearly fell asleep in the second half. The gaffer wouldn't let me take anyone on."

"That's because we were winning 2-0 and didn't need you to get another ridiculous red card," Grant Hanley grunted, but there was no heat in it. He was smiling.

Viktor Kristensen, the scorer of the first goal, was quietly talking with Emre. "That pass... I didn't even know I was open until the ball was already coming to me," he said in awe.

Emre just shrugged, a small smile on his face. "You made the run. My job is easy."

Ethan clapped his hands, and the room turned to him. "That was a mature performance," he said, his voice filled with a deep, satisfying pride. "Last week against Cardiff, we won with miracles and chaos. Today, we won with intelligence and control. That's the mark of a top team. Three games, three wins. We've laid down a marker for the entire league."

He let the praise sink in. "Enjoy this. Rest up. We have a full week of training before our next league match. Let's use it to get even better."

He logged off, the feeling of a job well done washing over him.

As he sat up in the pod, a small light on its side, which had always been green, began to flash blue.

A message appeared on the pod's small integrated screen.

[MANDATORY FIRMWARE UPDATE IN PROGRESS. DO NOT POWER DOWN. Estimated time remaining: 10 minutes.]

He watched, fascinated, as a progress bar slowly filled.

The next day, he met Leo in the park.

The 'Safe Mode' update was the only topic of conversation.

"It's a leash, man!" Leo insisted, pacing back and forth with a frantic energy. "They're putting a leash on us! They saw what happened to 'Prodigy' against Liverpool—he lost! They saw your insane comeback against Cardiff. They're realizing that the human element, our 'Managerial Instinct', is too unpredictable. 'Safe Mode' is probably an AI assistant that stops you from making 'sub-optimal' decisions!"

"You think?" Ethan asked, intrigued by the conspiracy theory. "The message said it was voluntary."

"That's how they get you!" Leo exclaimed, pointing a dramatic finger at Ethan. "They make it 'voluntary' so you don't feel like a prisoner. But what if turning it on gives you an XP boost? Or better transfer options? They'll incentivize conformity! We're not just managers, Ethan; we're lab rats!"

Ethan laughed. "You've been reading way too many forums."

"The truth is out there, man," Leo said, deadly serious. "Speaking of which, have you talked to our man on the inside?"

They found a bench and video-called Liam. He looked much better, his color returned, sitting up in his hospital bed with a laptop propped in front of him.

"Let me guess," Liam said, his voice a familiar, calming presence. "You two are panicking about the 'Safe Mode' update."

"Leo thinks it's a corporate conspiracy to turn us into boring, predictable managers," Ethan said.

Liam chuckled. "It's not a conspiracy. It's a liability waiver. Think about it from their perspective. They have thousands of people neurally-linked to their servers. One person has a pre-existing heart condition and gets a little too excited during a virtual penalty shootout, and suddenly Aetheria Dynamics is facing a multi-billion-dollar lawsuit. 'Safe Mode' is just their insurance policy. It probably just monitors your heart rate and logs you off if you get too stressed. It's for the casuals. We don't need it."

His pragmatic, professional take on the situation was like a splash of cold water.

It made perfect sense.

"See?" Ethan said, nudging Leo. "Not a leash. An insurance policy."

"Fine," Leo grumbled, but he looked relieved.

"Anyway," Liam said, his expression turning sharp and focused. "Forget about that. I've found something much more important. Something that changes how we need to think about player development."

Ethan and Leo leaned closer to the phone.

"I've been cross-referencing the FCG database with real-world youth league results," Liam explained, a true scout in his element. "The database is mostly static. A player's Potential Ability is set. But I found an anomaly. There's this 16-year-old kid, a winger at Ajax's academy. In the game, his potential was a decent 82. An A-Rank prospect, but nothing special."

"Okay..." Ethan said, intrigued.

"Last weekend, in the real world, he made a surprise debut for their first team because of an injury crisis. He came on for ten minutes and scored a brilliant solo goal. A real world-class moment."

Liam paused for effect.

"I checked his FCG profile again this morning. His potential is no longer 82. The game has updated it. It's now 91. He's an S-Rank."

Ethan and Leo stared at each other, the implication of Liam's discovery dawning on them with the force of a physical blow.

"The potential isn't fixed," Ethan breathed. "It's dynamic. It can change based on real-world performances."

"Exactly!" Liam confirmed. "It means our wonderkids aren't just assets in a game. Their value, their very future, is tied to their real-life counterparts. If the real Viktor Kristensen has a breakout season in Denmark, our Viktor gets a massive boost. But..."

"But if he gets a bad injury," Leo finished, his voice a worried whisper, "or has a terrible run of form..."

"Our Viktor's potential could plummet," Ethan concluded, a new, terrifying variable entering into his carefully laid plans.

They were silent for a moment, processing the new information. They weren't just managing a team; they were investing in a portfolio of living, breathing, unpredictable human beings on the other side of the world.

"It makes our job harder," Liam said. "But it also gives us an edge. We can scout players whose potential is about to explode before it happens in the game. We just need the right information."

He looked at them, a determined glint in his eye. "Which brings me to my next tip. Forget 'The Octopus' for now; you can't afford him. There's another kid. A 17-year-old center-back playing for a club called Shamrock Rovers in Ireland. His name is James McCarthy."

"What's his potential?" Ethan asked immediately.

"Right now? It's a pathetic 75," Liam said with a grin. "But I have a source inside the club. He told me that McCarthy has been absolutely dominating the first-team players in training. The manager is planning to give him his senior debut next week, in a big cup match."

He leaned closer to the camera, his voice a conspiratorial whisper.

"His valuation in the game is £50,000. He's a lottery ticket, guys. A lottery ticket that's about to be drawn."

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