Tuesday morning arrived at the Sterling Era Training Complex with a strange kind of calm.

Outside the gates there were television trucks from Sky Sports and BBC and even a crew from Japan here to see Kenji Sato. The world was watching Barnsley. The little team from Yorkshire was one win away from the Premier League.

But inside his office Michael Sterling was hiding.

He locked the door. He pulled the blinds down. He made himself a cup of coffee.

He needed a moment of peace. He needed to see the truth.

He sat in his leather chair and opened his laptop. He did not open the email or the news sites. He pressed the secret button combination that only he knew.

The room shimmered. The blue light of the System flooded the air.

[SYSTEM REPORT: END OF SEASON PROGRESSION]

Michael took a deep breath. He remembered looking at this screen in August. Back then his team was full of red numbers and low ratings. They were boys playing a man's game.

Now the screen was glowing gold.

[SQUAD ANALYSIS]

Michael clicked on the first name.

NAME: KAI SORA

POSITION: CM

AGE: 17

GROWTH STATUS: EXPLOSIVE

Start of Season CA (Current Ability): 55

Current CA: 76

Michael whistled. A twenty one point jump in one season was impossible. It was unheard of. But Kai had played forty games. He had provided twenty assists. He had scored that impossible goal against Millwall.

Michael looked at the specific stats breakdown.

PASSING: 18/20

VISION: 19/20

TECHNIQUE: 18/20

WORK RATE: 4/20 (previously 2/20)

Michael laughed out loud. The work rate had doubled but it was still terrible. Kai was a genius who walked around the pitch but Michael would not trade him for anyone.

He clicked on the next name.

NAME: ISAIAH KING

POSITION: RW

AGE: 16

GROWTH STATUS: SUPERSTAR

Start of Season CA: 64

Current CA: 75

The kid Arsenal released. The kid they said was too small.

DRIBBLING: 18/20

ACCELERATION: 19/20

FLAIR: 20/20

TEMPERAMENT: VOLATILE

Michael nodded. Isaiah was a firework. He could win a game in five seconds or get a yellow card for arguing with his own shadow. But he was magic.

Michael clicked on the defenders.

NAME: DIEGO NUNEZ

POSITION: CB

AGE: 19

GROWTH STATUS: MONSTER

Start of Season CA: 66

Current CA: 77

STRENGTH: 19/20

AGGRESSION: 20/20

BRAVERY: 20/20

Diego was Premier League ready right now. If Barnsley did not go up on Sunday then half the teams in Europe would try to buy him. Michael felt a knot of anxiety in his stomach. He could not lose Diego.

Finally he clicked on the unsung hero.

NAME: KENJI SATO

POSITION: CM

AGE: 18

GROWTH STATUS: ENGINE

Start of Season CA: 62

Current CA: 74

STAMINA: 20/20

TEAMWORK: 20/20

DISTANCE COVERED: LEAGUE RECORD

Michael leaned back in his chair. This was his masterpiece. He had built this. He had found the pieces that nobody else wanted and glued them together with belief and System Points.

The total squad value had jumped from five million pounds to over eighty million pounds.

The door handle rattled. Then it rattled again harder.

"Boss! I know you are in there! I can smell the coffee!"

It was Arthur Milton.

Michael sighed and waved his hand to dismiss the blue screen. It faded away just as Arthur unlocked the door with his spare key and marched in.

Arthur looked happy. He was wearing a new suit. It was grey and actually fit him properly.

"Look at you Arthur," Michael said smiling. "You look like a Director of Football."

"I am a Director of Football," Arthur rasped sitting on the sofa. "I just usually dress like a farmer. But this week is special. We have to look the part."

Arthur threw a stack of papers on the desk.

"What is this?" Michael asked.

"Scouting reports," Arthur said. "For Middlesbrough."

Michael picked them up. Middlesbrough were eighth in the table. They had nothing to play for. They were safe from relegation and too far from the playoffs.

"They are on the beach," Michael said scanning the report. "Their players are already booking holidays to Dubai."

"Do not underestimate them," Arthur warned pointing a finger. "They have Carrick as manager. He is smart. And they have that striker on loan from Villa. Archer. He is fast."

"We have Diego," Michael reminded him. "Diego eats fast strikers for breakfast."

"True," Arthur chuckled. "But the pressure Michael. It does funny things to legs. Remember Wembley?"

Michael looked at the picture of his Dad on the wall. He remembered the pain of that penalty shootout against City. He remembered Danny Fletcher crying.

"We are different now Arthur," Michael said softly. "We have scars now. Scars make the skin tougher."

Later that afternoon the team gathered in the canteen for lunch.

The mood was loose. Too loose maybe.

Isaiah King was standing on a chair holding a banana like a microphone. He was interviewing Kai Sora.

"So Mr. Bouncer," Isaiah shouted in a terrible American accent. "Tell the people. What will you do when we win the league?"

Kai was eating a bowl of pasta. He did not look up. "I will sleep for a week. Then I will buy a robot to do my running."

"Boring!" Isaiah yelled throwing the banana to Jamie Weston. "Jamie! What about you?"

"I am going to get a tattoo," Jamie announced puffing out his chest. "A tattoo of the trophy. On my face."

"Please do not do that," Michael said walking into the room.

The players laughed. They sat down.

Michael looked at them. They were so young. The average age of his starting eleven was nineteen. In any other era they would be the youth team. Here they were the kings of Yorkshire.

"How are the legs?" Michael asked looking at Kenji.

Kenji stood up and bowed. "My legs are full of power Sterling san. I ate three bowls of rice. I can run to London if you need."

"Please do not run to London," Michael laughed. "Save it for Sunday."

He looked at Diego. The Uruguayan was quiet. He was staring at his phone.

"Everything okay Diego?"

Diego looked up. His eyes were intense. "My mother is coming," Diego said. "From Montevideo. She lands on Saturday. She has never seen me play professional football."

The room went silent.

"That is huge Diego," Michael said. "We will make sure she gets the best seat in the house."

"She is loud," Diego warned with a small smile. "She screams louder than the fans. If she sees a striker kick me she might jump on the pitch and hit him with her handbag."

"I would pay to see that," Higgins grunted from the back of the room.

Michael clapped his hands. "Right. Listen up. The media is outside. They want to talk to you. They want to make you famous."

Isaiah jumped up. "I am ready! I was born ready! Where is the camera?"

"Sit down Hollywood," Michael said. "Only Danny and Higgins today. We keep the rest of you calm."

Isaiah slumped back in his chair pouting. "You are suppressing my talent Boss."

"I am suppressing your ego," Michael corrected.

The training session that afternoon was light. Just rondos and tactical shape.

Michael stood on the sidelines watching.

He saw the quality.

Kai played a pass that sliced through the defense like a hot knife through butter. Isaiah controlled it with a velcro touch. Danny finished it with a deadly strike.

It was clockwork.

But Michael noticed something else.

Every time the ball went out of play the players looked at the stands. They looked at the giant empty seats. They were imagining Sunday. They were imagining the noise.

Pressure.

It was invisible but it was heavy.

After training Michael called Danny Fletcher over.

The Prince looked older than he did a year ago. His shoulders were broader. His face was harder.

"How are you feeling Skipper?" Michael asked walking with him towards the tunnel.

Danny wiped sweat from his forehead. "I am good Boss. Just... thinking."

"About what?"

"About the penalty," Danny admitted. "At Wembley. I keep seeing it. Every time I close my eyes I see the post."

Michael put an arm around him. "That was a different Danny. That was a boy who thought he had to carry the world. You are not alone anymore Danny. Look around."

He pointed to the pitch where Diego was giving Kenji a piggyback ride and laughing.

"You have a family now," Michael said. "You have a Bull to protect you. An Engine to run for you. A Spark to create for you. You do not have to be perfect. You just have to be part of the machine."

Danny looked at his teammates. He smiled. A real genuine smile.

"You are right Boss. We are a weird family but we are a family."

"Exactly," Michael said. "Now go get a massage. We need those legs fresh."

That evening Michael stayed late at the office.

The sun went down turning the sky purple. The floodlights of the stadium flickered on for a test.

Michael walked out into the empty stadium.

He walked to the center circle. The grass was perfect thanks to the System upgrade.

He closed his eyes.

He imagined the whistle. He imagined the roar. He imagined holding the trophy.

His phone buzzed.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

Michael opened his eyes. The blue screen appeared in the empty air above the pitch.

[FINAL OBJECTIVE: THE PROMISED LAND]

[TASK: WIN GAME 46]

[REWARD: PREMIER LEAGUE STATUS]

[BONUS REWARD: ???]

Three question marks. The System had never done that before.

Michael stared at the mysterious reward. What could be bigger than promotion? What could be bigger than millions of pounds?

"Mystery box," Michael whispered. "I like mystery boxes."

He turned around and looked at the Director Box.

He could almost see his Dad sitting there smoking a cigar and laughing.

"We built it Dad," Michael said to the empty seat. "We built the Empire. Now we just have to put the roof on."

He walked back towards the tunnel.

Saturday was tomorrow. Then Sunday. The Final.

Barnsley versus Middlesbrough. Second place versus Eighth place.

Destiny versus History.

Michael smiled in the darkness.

"Bring it on."

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