"Fuck . I can already feel that the Premier League is calling."
A kit man with a grey beard muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead while hiding in the shade of the dugout. He was wearing a jacket with the initials ’LUFC’ stitched on the chest.
"Dave, won’t we get in trouble for sitting around and doing nothing like this? The warm-up is starting."
Next to him was a young intern with ssy blonde hair and a bag of balls over his shoulder. His eyes seed worried as he voiced his anxiety.
"Tim, you should know by now that Farke doesn’t care since we’re 2-0 up away from ho. I’m sure he never even noticed us sitting here."
To his left, another staff mber appeared and handed them both a bottle of Lucozade from the cooler. He had a warm smile on his face with a Leeds scarf tied around his wrist.
"But Dave, why would he even care if we watched? We’re part of the team."
Both Dave and Tim turned their attention to the newest physio assistant, a knowing smile forming on their faces.
"Oh you know, the sa reason as you." Dave replied, sending a wink his way.
The physio’s face reddened, however, he tried to play it cool. "W-What do you an? I’m here so I can support the players’ recovery."
Despite saying so, his eyes betrayed his lie as they drifted to the pitch.
"Hey, don’t go and insult our intelligence, lad." Dave moved closer and nudged him gently with his elbow.
"We all know that you’re here to watch a certain winger play." He said with a hint of playfulness and teasing in his tone.
Was he that obvious?
Thinking back to all the tis he’d been staring at Rio’s stats on the iPad throughout the first half made his embarrassnt even worse. He quickly held the Lucozade to his face, feeling it heat up.
Seeing this, both Dave and Tim chuckled. Their favorite pasti was to tease the new staff mbers who got star-struck.
However, there was no malice, no bad intentions.
Dave let out a deep sigh. "Ten years I’ve watched wingers co and go at Elland Road, yet none have moved like him. Raphinha was good, but this kid... he is a machine."
Tim tilted his head, not expecting the sudden confession from the veteran kit man. He took another look at Dave and evaluated him.
He was old school, with calloused hands and a cynicism born from years of Championship heartbreak. Even Tim, who had only been here for a season, could not compare to the trauma Dave had seen.
’If Dave is impressed by soone he’s only watched for a month, then this kid must be special.’ He thought inwardly.
The physio let out a sigh also, however, it wasn’t full of resignation, it was more like admiration. His eyes were on the two center-backs who were jogging through their warm-down drills.
"Rodon... He’s just so solid." He murmured.
Dave looked at the young physio and couldn’t help but slap him on the back.
"Ah! What was that for, Dave!?" Small tears ford on the corner of his eyes, making him look like a lost puppy.
Dave huffed, "Why are you even entertaining those defenders? Don’t you know they’re just at shields?"
Hearing such blasphemy, the physio puffed out his cheeks and instantly ca to his favorite player’s defense. "Joe is not just a at shield! Struijk is the one who hoofs it, Joe can actually pass despite being a giant."
"Ah... Sorry." Dave recognized his mistake and quickly apologized.
Their antics seed to amuse Tim who let out a chuckle, covering his mouth to not make it obvious.
However, this did not work. The laugh got the attention of the two other staff mbers.
"Oho. You can afford to laugh, young man?"
Tim felt an aura surrounding both the veterans, making him regret his actions.
He panicked, quickly bowing his head to apologize. However, the two laughed shortly after at his anxious reactions. Tim was pulled into a side-hug, feeling the warmth and camaraderie that he wasn’t used to in the cutthroat world of football.
"By the way, why do you even need to worry about the warm-up? I heard Farke has already decided the subs for the second half." Dave asked Tim.
"What!? Already?" Tim was shocked, feeling his own lack of inside knowledge hit him hard. It was a devastating blow to his ego.
Unaware of the crisis Tim was currently experiencing, the physio’s face turned a little sour.
"I didn’t know Farke made decisions that fast... What could he possibly have seen in the first half that would make him change things now? Kamara coming on?" The physio scoffed, feeling a little vulnerable about his dical advice being ignored.
He turned towards Rio, who was in the middle of a rondo with the substitutes. His sharp movents and serious expression spoke of how dedicated he was to keeping the montum.
The physio didn’t know why, but a big part of him wished to support Rio in any way he could. But he was afraid of distracting him with too much data, which was why he kept his distance, cheering him on from the iPad screen.
Both Dave and Tim looked at each other, seemingly understanding each other without words. They couldn’t help but want to root for the team.
"Hang in there, lads!" Dave said, puffing air out of his nose.
"Yeah, keep the balls pumped until we lift the trophy." Tim added, clenching his fist and holding it out.
The physio turned his head after hearing such words of encouragent, not expecting such a thing.
"You guys..."
"Mmm, I’ll do my best." He said, a hopeful smile creeping onto his face.
Rio, who was in the rondo circle, suddenly felt as if he had eyes drilling into the side of his head. He quickly turned only to see the three staff mbers jump up in shock and quickly act as if they were busy organizing bibs.
A look of confusion crept onto his face, however, he shook his head a mont later. Now was not the ti to get distracted; he still needed another three assists before he completed the Creator mission.
[Chat Room Active]
The_King: The staff are watching. Good. When the kit man believes, the city believes. Now, focus.
Total_Football_14: The second half is a trap. Southampton will co out angry. They will press high. Use the space behind them.
Zizou_5: And if you score, run to the kit man. He looks like he needs a hug.
Rio smiled internally. The legends noticed everything.
He jogged back to the pitch as the referee blew the whistle for the second half.
PEEEP!
Southampton kicked off.
As Cruyff predicted, the Saints were angry. They abandoned their patient passing ga and sward forward like bees.
46th minute.
Smallbone, the Southampton midfielder, smashed into Ethan Ampadu.
"FOUL!" Ethan scread, rolling on the floor.
The referee waved play on. The crowd roared. The atmosphere had turned toxic.
"Stay calm!" Cooper shouted.
But it was hard to stay calm when bodies were flying.
Rio tracked back. He saw Walker-Peters sprinting down the wing, eyes full of vengeance.
"He’s coming for ," Rio thought.
[Skill: The Scout’s Eye Active]
[Target: Kyle Walker-Peters]
[Status: Red Mist]
Rio grinned. An angry player makes mistakes.
Walker-Peters received the ball. He didn’t look for a pass. He drove straight at Rio.
"I’m going to end you!" Walker-Peters grunted, pushing the ball past Rio and trying to barge him off the pitch.
Rio didn’t fight the contact. He used it.
[Skill: Titan’s Core]
He absorbed the shoulder barge, planted his foot, and spun around the full-back.
Walker-Peters, expecting resistance, flew past him and crashed into the advertising boards.
CRASH.
The Leeds fans in the away end cheered.
"Olé!"
Rio ca away with the ball. He looked up. The pitch was open.
"Counter!" Rio scread.
He sprinted. 40 yards. 50 yards.
Kamara was running with him. Piroe was peeling off the center-back.
But Rio saw sothing else.
[Mission: The Creator (2/5)]
He needed assists.
He drove into the box. He could shoot. The angle was there.
But he saw Sumrville arriving late at the back post.
Rio faked a shot, freezing the keeper, Bazunu. Then, he scooped a delicate chip over the defense.
It was a lob wedge. Perfect weight.
Sumrville didn’t even have to jump. He just nodded it in.
GOAL.
0-3.
49th minute.
"YES!" Sumrville scread, pointing at Rio. "You genius!"
Rio laughed, jogging over. "Too easy, Crys. Too easy."
DING.
[Mission Update: The Creator]
[Progress: 3/5 Assists]
Rio looked at the scoreboard. 3-0. The ga was dead.
But the mission wasn’t.
"Two more," Rio whispered.
The ga restarted. Southampton looked broken. Their fans were already leaving.
But Russell Martin wasn’t giving up. He made a triple sub.
"Adams on! Fraser on! Edozie on!"
Fresh legs. Fast legs.
55th minute.
Edozie, the new winger, ran at Ayling. Ayling, tired and on a yellow card, backed off.
Edozie crossed it. Che Adams rose high.
THUD.
Goal.
1-3.
The crowd woke up. "WHEN THE SAINTS GO MARCHING IN!"
Rio frowned. A clean sheet bonus was gone.
"Focus!" Farke shouted from the touchline. "Do not let them breathe!"
Rio looked at his teammates. They looked rattled. The ghost of last season’s relegation battle was haunting them.
"Hey!" Rio clapped his hands loud. "Wake the fuck up! It’s 3-1! We are Leeds!"
He ran over to Ayling. "Luke, let him go outside. I’ll double up."
Ayling nodded, sweating. "Thanks, kid."
60th minute.
Southampton pushed for a second. They left gaps at the back.
Huge gaps.
Rio intercepted a loose pass from Smallbone.
He looked up. Piroe was making a run.
"Go on then," Rio muttered.
He unleashed a 40-yard through ball. It cut the grass. It cut the defense.
Piroe was through. One on one.
He rounded the keeper.
And missed.
He hit the post.
"NO!" Rio scread, falling to his knees. "JOEL!"
Piroe put his hands on his head. "Sorry!"
Rio shook his head. That was assist number four. Gone.
The_King: Patience. The artist does not rush. Create another masterpiece.
Rio stood up. He wiped the dirt from his knees.
"Okay," he whispered. "One more try."
65th minute.
Leeds corner. Rio walked over.
The Southampton fans were booing him. throwing coins.
Rio picked up a coin. He kissed it and tossed it back.
The crowd went feral.
Rio placed the ball. He saw Rodon. He saw Struijk.
But he also saw Ethan Ampadu lurking on the edge of the box.
"Ethan!" Rio signaled.
He whipped it to the edge of the D.
Ethan hit it first ti. A volley.
BOOM.
It flew through the crowd. It hit a defender’s hand.
PEEEP!
Penalty!
The referee pointed to the spot.
"Yes!" Rio shouted.
But wait. A penalty count as an assist?
[System Query]
[Answer: No. A penalty won counts as a ’Chance Created’, not an assist unless missed and rebounded.]
"Fuck," Rio muttered.
Piroe grabbed the ball. He was the designated taker.
"Joel," Rio walked over. "Let take it."
Piroe looked at him. "Rio, I’m the striker. I need goals."
"I know," Rio lowered his voice. "But I need... sothing else."
Piroe hesitated. He looked at Rio’s eyes. They were burning.
"Fine," Piroe handed him the ball. "Don’t miss."
Rio placed the ball on the spot.
He looked at Bazunu.
[Scout’s Eye Active]
[Target: Gavin Bazunu]
[Weakness: Bottom Right]
Rio stepped back.
He ran up. He opened his body.
He passed the ball.
To the side.
"WHAT!?" The crowd gasped.
Piroe, who knew the routine from training, ran onto the ball.
Bazunu had already dived.
Piroe tapped it into the empty net.
GOAL.
1-4.
The audacious penalty pass. The Cruyff penalty.
DING.
[Mission Update: The Creator]
[Progress: 4/5 Assists]
"YOU MADMAN!" Piroe scread, jumping on Rio. "WE ACTUALLY DID IT!"
Rio laughed. "I told you I’d feed you!"
Farke on the sideline was holding his chest. "My heart... these kids will kill ."
The Southampton players were furious. Disrespected again.
But the scoreboard didn’t lie.
1-4.
One more assist needed.
Rio looked at the clock. 70th minute.
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