There were only nine players sitting on the benches. Isaiah King was gone, crying in the shower. Shaun Higgins was gone, probably breaking a door in the hallway.

The remaining nine looked like soldiers who had been asked to fight a tank with a spoon.

Benjamin Pavard stood in the center of the room. The World Cup winner did not look panicked. He looked annoyed. He was wiping mud off his knees with a towel.

"Nine men," Pavard said. His voice was calm. "I have played in the World Cup Final. I have played in the Champions League. But I have never played nine against eleven."

He looked at Michael Sterling.

"Boss. We need a plan. A crazy plan."

Michael took a deep breath. He looked at his team.

Kenji Sato was vibrating. The Japanese Engine had already run seven kilometers in the first half.

Kai Sora was sitting with his head back, eyes closed. He looked like he was meditating. Or sleeping.

"The plan is simple," Michael said. "We do not attack. We do not shoot. We survive."

He grabbed a marker and walked to the whiteboard. He drew a formation.

5 - 3 - 0

"We play with no strikers," Michael announced. "Danny, you drop into midfield. Kenji, you play right back. Pavard, you are the libero. You sweep everything."

Danny Fletcher, the captain and top scorer, nodded. "I will tackle, Boss. I will run until I vomit."

"Kai," Michael said.

Kai opened one eye. "Yes Boss?"

"You are the outlet," Michael said. "When we get the ball, we give it to you. You keep it. You hide it. You make them foul you. You buy us seconds to breathe."

"I will be a vault," Kai promised. "Nobody steals from the vault."

"Spurs will come at us," Michael said. "They will throw everything. But remember one thing."

He pointed to the crest on their chest.

"This is the Fortress. We do not die easily here. We fight for every inch of grass. We fight for Diego. We fight for Isaiah. We fight for Higgins."

The players stood up. There was no cheering. Just a grim silence.

"Let us go," Pavard said. "Into the fire."

SECOND HALF

The teams walked out.

The Tottenham players looked confident. They were chatting. They were laughing. They knew they had two extra men. They knew it was just a matter of time.

But the Barnsley fans did not care about math.

As the nine men walked onto the pitch, the stadium erupted.

"WE ARE BARNSLEY! SUPER BARNSLEY!"

It was a wall of noise. A shield of sound.

MINUTE 46

Tottenham kicked off.

They attacked immediately. They spread the pitch wide. They made the nine men run.

The ball went to Kulusevski on the wing. He had space. Kenji Sato sprinted over to cover him.

Kenji was fast, but he was tired. Kulusevski cut inside.

He shot.

BLOCK!

Pavard threw himself in the way. The ball hit his chest.

"CLEAR IT!" Pavard screamed.

Mateo smashed the ball upfield. It went nowhere. It just went back to the Spurs goalkeeper.

And the wave started again.

MINUTE 55

It was a siege.

Barnsley could not get out of their own box. It was attack after attack.

Son Heung-min got the ball on the edge of the box. He did a step-over. He shot.

Sam Jones dived.

SAVE!

Sam pushed it round the post.

"Come on!" Sam roared at his defenders. "Wake up!"

Michael stood on the sideline. He was soaked by the rain. Arthur Milton stood next to him, gripping his cane.

"They are getting closer Boss," Arthur whispered. "The dam is going to break."

"Hold," Michael whispered back. "Just hold."

MINUTE 60

The breakthrough happened.

It was inevitable. Physics eventually wins.

James Maddison received the ball in the pocket of space where a midfielder should have been. But Barnsley had no midfielders left.

Maddison looked up. He saw the gap.

He curled the ball.

It was a beautiful shot. It bent around Pavard. It bent around Sam Jones.

It hit the inside of the post and spun into the net.

GOAL.

0 to 1.

The Tottenham fans cheered. It was a relief for them.

The Barnsley players slumped. They had fought so hard for sixty minutes.

Pavard clapped his hands. "HEADS UP! NO PITY! WE GO AGAIN!"

Michael felt a pain in his chest. It was unfair. It was cruel. But that was the Premier League.

"Keep going!" Michael shouted. "Do not collapse!"

MINUTE 68

Barnsley tried to play.

Sam Jones rolled the ball to Kai Sora.

Three Tottenham players rushed at Kai. They wanted to humiliate him.

Kai did not have his sunglasses. His eyes were focused.

He did a drag-back. He spun away from Bissouma. He nutmegged Sarr.

The crowd cheered. A moment of magic in the darkness.

Kai looked up. He saw Danny Fletcher making a run.

But Danny was alone against four defenders.

Kai paused. He put his foot on the ball. He waited.

"Pass it!" Arthur yelled.

Kai did not pass. He turned his back to the defenders and shielded the ball.

Bissouma kicked his ankles. Sarr pushed him.

Kai did not fall. He stood strong.

PHWEEEEET!

Foul.

Kai took a deep breath. He lay on the grass for a few seconds longer than necessary.

"Tactical rest," Kai winked at Michael.

MINUTE 72

But the fatigue was real.

Kenji Sato stopped running. The Engine had finally stalled. He cramped up in both legs at the same time. He fell over like a toy soldier.

"Sub!" Michael shouted.

He brought on a young academy defender. A kid named Tom. Tom was eighteen. He looked terrified.

"Good luck Tom," Michael said pushing him onto the pitch. "Do not let Son score."

"Okay Boss," Tom squeaked.

MINUTE 75

Tottenham scored again.

It was brutal.

They overloaded the right side. Tom, the new kid, got confused. He followed the wrong runner.

This left Son Heung-min unmarked at the back post.

The cross came in.

Son volleyed it.

BANG.

The net shook.

GOAL.

0 to 2.

The game was over.

The Barnsley fans stopped singing for a moment. The reality set in. They were going to lose. Their unbeaten home record was gone. The Fortress had been breached.

Michael sat down on the wet bench. He put his head in his hands.

"Two goals ahead," Arthur said sadly. "With nine men. It is impossible."

"Nothing is impossible," Michael muttered. But he did not believe it.

MINUTE 78

The scoreboard stared down at them.

BARNSLEY 0 - 2 TOTTENHAM

The Tottenham fans were singing "Ole" with every pass. They were mocking the Misfits.

On the pitch, Kai Sora stood in the center circle. He looked at the scoreboard. He looked at the Tottenham fans laughing.

Kai did not like being laughed at.

He looked at Arda Guler.

"Arda," Kai said.

Arda looked over. He was exhausted.

"Do you have any magic left?" Kai asked.

"Maybe a little," Arda panted.

"Good," Kai said. "Because I am bored of defending. Let us attack."

"Attack?" Arda asked. "We have nine men Kai. We will die."

"If we die, we die attacking," Kai said. He adjusted his shirt. "I am going to run now. For real."

The game restarted.

Tottenham passed the ball around the back. They were comfortable.

Suddenly, a blur of red sprinted out of the midfield.

It was Kai Sora.

He pressed the Tottenham defender. He ran at full speed.

The defender panicked. He had never seen Kai run before. It was like seeing a statue come to life.

The defender slipped.

Kai stole the ball.

He was thirty yards out.

"GO!" Michael screamed jumping up.

Kai drove forward. Two defenders came to meet him.

Kai did not pass. He did not dribble.

He chipped the ball.

Over the defenders heads. Into the path of Arda Guler.

Arda controlled it on his chest. He was in the box.

He was one on one with Vicario.

Could they do it? Could they score a goal with nine men?

The stadium held its breath.

Arda pulled his leg back.

But before he could shoot, a Tottenham defender slid in from behind.

CRASH.

Arda went down.

The referee blew the whistle.

He pointed to the spot.

PENALTY!

The Fortress exploded with noise. It was a lifeline. A tiny, thin lifeline.

Michael looked at the pitch.

Who would take it?

Danny Fletcher was the designated taker. But Danny looked exhausted. His legs were shaking.

Arda Guler was holding his ankle.

Kai Sora picked up the ball.

The Architect. The man who hated running.

He walked to the penalty spot. He placed the ball down carefully.

He looked at the goalkeeper Vicario. Vicario was jumping up and down, waving his arms, trying to distract him.

Kai stood still. He adjusted his imaginary sunglasses.

"He is going to miss," Arthur whispered, covering his eyes. "He is too relaxed."

"Watch," Michael said.

Kai took one step back. Just one step.

He didn't run up. He just swung his leg.

SWISH.

A Panenka.

A slow, floating, disrespectful Panenka.

Vicario dived to the right. He watched helplessly as the ball floated into the center of the goal.

GOAL.

1 to 2.

Minute 80.

Kai didn't celebrate. He just picked the ball out of the net and ran back to the center circle.

He waved his arms at the crowd.

LOUDER.

The fans went berserk.

Michael felt the System vibrate in his pocket. It was going crazy.

[MOMENTUM SHIFT DETECTED]

[ADRENALINE SURGE: ACTIVE]

Michael looked at Arthur. Arthur was crying again.

"Ten minutes," Michael shouted. "Ten minutes to save the world!"

Barnsley 1. Tottenham 2. Nine men.

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