Michael Sterling sat in his office. He was looking at the league table.
1. Manchester City
2. Liverpool
3. Arsenal
4. Barnsley
Fourth. They were fourth in the Premier League. It was a miracle. It was ridiculous. But it was real.
The door to his office opened with a bang.
Arthur Milton walked in. He was wearing a beret. Again.
"Bonjour Boss," Arthur said placing a basket on the desk.
"Arthur," Michael said looking at the hat. "Why are you French today? Did we sign Mbappe while I was sleeping?"
"No Boss," Arthur said pulling a long baguette out of the basket. "But I have been scouting in France. The food is amazing. The butter is salty. And the players? The players are fast."
Arthur sat down. He tore a piece of bread and ate it.
"I found soone Boss," Arthur said chewing happily. "A striker. He plays for Lyon. His na is Jean Luc Dubois."
Michael pulled his laptop closer.
"Show ," Michael said.
Arthur connected his tablet to the big screen.
A video started playing.
It showed a tall striker in a white kit. He was strong. He held off defenders easily. He turned. He shot. Goal.
The video cut to another clip. Jean Luc received the ball on his chest. He volleyed it. Goal.
"He looks strong," Michael admitted. "He moves well for a big man."
"He is nineteen," Arthur said. "He has scored twelve goals in Ligue 1 this season. The scouts say he is the next Giroud but with speed."
Michael activated the System.
He focused his eyes on the player on the screen. The familiar blue interface shimred into existence.
[SCOUTING REPORT]
[NA: JEAN LUC DUBOIS]
[AGE: 19]
[CURRENT ABILITY: 79 (PREMIER LEAGUE READY)]
[POTENTIAL ABILITY: 88 (ELITE STRIKER)]
[TRAITS: TARGET MAN. AERIAL THREAT.]
Michael frowned slightly.
"88," Michael whispered.
"What was that Boss?" Arthur asked dipping his bread in coffee.
"His potential," Michael said. "The System says it is 88."
Arthur looked confused.
"88 is good Boss! That is a top player. That is a player who wins you gas on a rainy Tuesday against Everton."
"I know," Michael said leaning back in his chair. "And look at his current rating. It is 79. He is better than our backups right now. He could start gas tomorrow."
"So we buy him?" Arthur asked hopeful. "I can go back to Lyon. I can eat more cheese."
"We keep watching him," Michael decided. "88 is great Arthur. But we are building a Dynasty. A Dynasty needs 90. A Dynasty needs 99. Jean Luc is a very good sword. But I am looking for Excalibur."
"You are becoming greedy Boss," Arthur laughed. "Two years ago you were happy with a striker who could run without falling over."
"Success changes standards," Michael said. "Keep Jean Luc warm. If we cannot find a god we will buy the soldier. He is a very good Plan B."
Arthur nodded. He wiped the crumbs from his mouth.
Then his face changed. The smile disappeared. He looked serious. He looked like a spy who had just found the nuclear codes.
"Boss," Arthur said lowering his voice. "I have sothing else. Sothing... bigger."
"Bigger than the next Giroud?"
"Much bigger," Arthur said. "Close the door Boss."
Michael stood up and closed the office door. He sat back down.
"Talk to Arthur."
Arthur opened a new folder on his tablet. It was password protected. He typed in the code: SAUSAGE123.
A profile appeared.
It was not a French player. It was Brazilian.
He was short. He was stocky. He had legs like tree trunks.
ENDRICK.
Michael felt his heart stop for a second.
Endrick. The boy wonder. The kid who joined Real Madrid at eighteen. The future Pele.
"Arthur," Michael said slowly. "Why are you showing a Real Madrid player? We have money but we do not have Real Madrid money. He has a release clause of one billion euros."
"He does," Arthur said. "Or he did."
Arthur leaned across the desk.
"I have a contact in Madrid. A cleaner. She hears things."
"You have a spy who is a cleaner?"
"She makes good paella," Arthur shrugged. "Listen Boss. Endrick is unhappy. Mbappe plays every ga. Vini plays every ga. Rodrygo plays every ga. Endrick sits on the bench. He eats sunflower seeds."
"That is normal," Michael said. "He is young. He has to wait."
"He does not want to wait," Arthur said. "And here is the bomb."
Arthur clicked a docunt. It was a contract scan. It was in Spanish.
"Read clause 14B," Arthur said pointing a sticky finger at the screen.
Michael looked. He could not read Spanish well but he understood numbers.
...minutos jugados < 500... cláusula de rescisión nula...
"Minutes played less than 500," Michael translated. "Release clause void?"
"Exactly," Arthur whispered. "His agent put a safety clause in the contract. If he does not play 500 minutes in the first half of the season the billion euro clause vanishes. It drops."
"Drops to what?"
"To his market value," Arthur said grinning. "Forty million pounds."
Michael stood up.
Forty million pounds. For Endrick.
It was theft. It was daylight robbery.
"How many minutes has he played?" Michael asked.
"480," Arthur said. "And Carlo Ancelotti just announced he is resting players for the Club World Cup. Endrick will not play in December. The clause triggers on January 1st."
"We have one month," Michael said. his mind racing. "One month to steal the biggest talent in the world from the biggest club in the world."
Michael pulled out his phone. The System was vibrating violently.
[GOD TIER TALENT DETECTED]
[NA: ENDRICK]
[POTENTIAL: 99 (THE CHOSEN ONE)]
[STATUS: UNHAPPY]
[CHANCE OF SIGNING: LOW BUT POSSIBLE]
"99," Michael read aloud. "The perfect score."
"If we get him," Arthur dread. "Endrick and Leo Stone. The Brazilian bull and the English ghost. We would be unstoppable."
"Real Madrid will fight," Michael said pacing the room. "They will try to fix it. They will offer him gold. They will offer him a castle."
"But they cannot offer him minutes," Arthur said. "We can."
Just then the door opened.
Diego Nunez walked in.
The giant defender was wearing a winter coat that looked like a sleeping bag.
"Hola," Diego said. "I sll bread. Arthur are you eating without ?"
"Take the baguette Diego," Arthur said throwing it to him.
Diego caught it in his mouth like a dog.
"Mmm," Diego said chewing. "Crunchy."
He looked at the screen. He saw the picture of Endrick.
"Baby Brazil," Diego said pointing. "I like him. He is small but he is wide. Like a mini fridge."
"Do you want him on the team Diego?" Michael asked.
"Yes," Diego said. "We need more South Aricans. The Europeans are too polite. They say sorry when they tackle. We say gotcha."
"We are going to try to get him Diego," Michael said. "But it is a secret. Top secret."
Diego zipped his lips.
"I am a tomb," Diego promised. "I will tell nobody. Except maybe my mother. And Enzo. And the postman."
"Tell nobody Diego," Michael warned.
Michael sat back down.
He looked at the two profiles.
Jean Luc Dubois. The safe option. The 88 potential. The player who was ready now and would score goals and keep them in the top four.
And Endrick. The 99 potential. The risk. The war with Real Madrid.
It was the difference between being a good manager and a legendary one.
"Arthur," Michael said.
"Yes Boss?"
"Forget the French boy. Keep him on the list but put him in the drawer."
"And the Brazilian?"
"Book a flight to Madrid," Michael said. "Not for . For you."
Arthur eyes went wide. "?"
"Yes. go there. Eat the tapas. Talk to your cleaner friend. Find Endrick agent. Tell him that Barnsley is the new ho of football. Tell him we have Diego Nunez. Tell him we have the best steak in England."
"I will tell him," Arthur said standing up and saluting. "I will charm him Boss. I will bring the boy ho."
"And Arthur?"
"Yes Boss?"
"Do not wear the beret in Madrid. They will think you are a spy."
Arthur took off the hat.
"Understood."
Michael turned to the window.
The wind was still howling outside.
Stealing a player from Real Madrid. It sounded insane. It sounded like sothing only a Misfit manager would try.
But Michael looked at the stadium lights.
They had built a Fortress. Now they needed a King to live in it.
He imagined Endrick in the purple shirt. He imagined the power. The speed.
"One month," Michael whispered.
The January transfer window was coming. And Michael Sterling was about to declare war on the Galacticos.
He picked up his phone and opened the banking app.
BALANCE: £115,000,000.
"We have the money," Michael said to the empty room. "Now we just need the courage."
He looked at the System one last ti.
[TARGET ACQUIRED: ENDRICK]
[DIFFICULTY: EXTRE]
[REWARD: ETERNAL GLORY]
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