The soft hum of the Aston Villa academy's common room had replaced the distant roar of a World Cup crowd. Two years had passed since Leon watched Kane dissect the Danish defense.
Two years that felt like a lifeti of relentless effort, growth, and the quiet, burning pursuit of a dream.
Now, at sixteen, Leon Fischer was a different player entirely.
His fra was taller, stronger, honed by countless hours in the gym and on the ticulously maintained pitches of Bodymoor Heath.
His touch was silkier, his passes sharper, and his mind, aided by his unique vision, worked at an astonishing speed, anticipating plays before they even fully ford. He was no longer just a promising talent; he was a standout.
His own numbers, when he bothered to glance at them, confird it:
Leon Fischer – Potential: 94, Current: 78.
Current: 78 It was a number that placed him among the elite U18 players in the country, a testant to his unwavering dedication.
He was the undisputed heartbeat of Aston Villa's U18 midfield, known for his ability to control the tempo of any ga, his passes often finding teammates in impossible pockets of space.
And Byon? His partner in glory was still right there with him.
After that nail-biting final assessnt, Byon had truly blossod. His raw pace and dazzling trickery had been refined, his decision-making sharper, his runs more intelligent.
Byon – Potential: 91, Current: 77. He was now a dynamic winger for the U18s, a constant threat down either flank, his connection with Leon on the field almost telepathic after all these years.
They had celebrated countless victories together, including an U18 league title last season, a gleaming trophy that sat proudly in the academy's display cabinet.
This morning, however, the usual academy routine felt different.
Leon had just finished a grueling U18 training session, working on set-piece routines, when Coach Miller, now the U18 head coach, called him aside.
"Leon," Coach Miller began, his expression unreadable, a slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes.
"Excellent session today. Your delivery from those corners was exceptional."
"Thank you, Coach," Leon replied, a hint of curiosity in his voice. Coach Miller rarely pulled him aside like this.
Miller paused, then took a deep breath.
"The senior team has a few injuries in midfield. And they've been watching you closely in the U18 matches."
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
"Unai Ery wants you to train with the first team for the rest of the week. And… there's a strong possibility you'll be in the squad for the Premier League match this weekend."
Leon's breath hitched. Premier League.
The words hung in the air, heavy, shimring brighter than any 'Potential' number he'd ever seen.
His heart started to pound, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs.
This wasn't just a step; it was a leap across a chasm he'd only ever dread of.
"The… the Premier League, Coach?" he managed to stamr, his voice barely a whisper.
Coach Miller nodded, a rare, proud smile finally breaking through.
"Yes, Leon. Your debut. At Villa Park. Against Crystal Palace this Saturday."
A wave of shock, disbelief, and then a pure, exhilarating rush of joy washed over him.
Crystal Palace. The sa club whose scout, Mr. Davies, had watched him all those years ago. It felt like destiny.
"Go on," Miller said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Go tell your Mom. Go tell Byon. You've earned this."
Leon could barely contain himself. He practically sprinted to the changing room, grabbing his phone.
His mom answered on the second ring, her voice warm and familiar.
"Mom! You won't believe it!" he blurted out, the words tumbling over each other.
"I'm training with the first team! And… and I might play in the Premier League this weekend!"
There was a stunned silence on the other end, then a joyful sob.
"Oh, Leon! My boy! I knew it! I always knew you would do it!" Her voice was thick with emotion, and Leon felt a lump form in his own throat. This was for her. All of it.
Next, Byon. Leon found him in the common room, engrossed in a video ga. "Byon!"
Byon, startled, looked up. "What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Better than a ghost," Leon grinned, unable to wipe the ecstatic smile off his face.
"I'm getting called up. Premier League squad. This weekend."
Byon's jaw dropped. The controller slipped from his hands, clattering to the floor.
"No way! Are you serious?! Leon, that's… that's insane! Our dream, mate! It's happening!" He jumped up, pulling Leon into a bone-crushing hug, thumping him on the back.
"You absolute legend! We need to celebrate!"
The next few days were a blur. Leon found himself walking into the first-team changing room, surrounded by players he'd only ever seen on TV.
Ollie Watkins (Potential: 89, Current: 86) greeted him with a friendly nod.
Douglas Luiz (Potential: 88, Current: 82) offered a casual handshake.
John McGinn (Potential: 87, Current: 83) cracked a joke that eased Leon's nerves.
The speed of first-team training was electrifying. Every pass was sharper, every movent quicker. Leon's sight worked overti, processing the high 'Current' numbers of these seasoned professionals, watching how their instincts guided them.
He was initially a step behind, the pace almost overwhelming. But he quickly adapted, relying on his vision to anticipate plays, making smart, simple passes, and positioning himself perfectly.
He could feel his own 'Current' rating subtly nudging upward, adapting to the higher level.
By Friday, the squad list for the Crystal Palace match was pinned up.
Leon's na was on it. He was number 47.
Saturday arrived in a haze of nervous excitent. Leon shared a pre-match al with the team, trying to absorb the atmosphere, the focused intensity that radiated from the experienced players. The air vibrated with anticipation.
He called his mom one last ti. "I'm here, Mom. At Villa Park."
"I'm so proud of you, my love. Just enjoy every mont," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
He saw Byon in the stands before kickoff, a familiar, excited face among the roaring crowd, waving wildly. Leon gave him a thumbs-up. This was it.
The dressing room was a hive of controlled energy. Unai Ery, the manager, delivered his final tactical instructions, his voice calm but firm.
Leon listened intently, his heart thumping against his ribs. He felt a mix of overwhelming nerves and pure, unadulterated excitent.
The roar from the crowd as the team walked out onto the pitch was deafening, a wave of sound that crashed over him, vibrating through his very bones.
Villa Park, a sea of claret and blue, felt enormous, alive. He took his place on the bench, his eyes sweeping across the erald green pitch, then up at the towering stands. This was real.
The match began with a fierce intensity.
Aston Villa, known for their attacking flair, pressed hard, but Crystal Palace, defensively organised, held their ground.
Leon watched intently, his 'sight' processing the ga, seeing the gaps, the potential passing lanes, the defensive vulnerabilities.
He saw Crystal Palace's Eberechi Eze (Potential: 88, Current: 83) weaving through midfield, a constant threat.
Half-ti ca, the score still 0-0. The atmosphere in the dressing room was tense, but focused.
The second half started, and Crystal Palace, spurred on, started to gain montum.
They won a free-kick just outside the box.
Eberechi Eze stepped up, his 'Current' number glowing with intent.
He curled a beautiful shot, but it clipped the post and went wide. A collective gasp of relief from the Villa fans.
Around the 70th minute, the manager turned.
"Fischer! Get ready! You're on for McGinn!"
Leon's heart leaped into his throat. This was it. His mont.
He quickly shed his training top, receiving a quick pat on the back from Ollie Watkins. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing mind.
As he jogged towards the touchline, the stadium announcer's voice bood:
"Substitution for Aston Villa! Coming on, number 47, Leon Fischer!"
A ripple of applause, then a roar as he stepped onto the Premier League pitch.
The grass felt softer, the air crisper, the lights brighter than anything he'd ever experienced. He could feel the eyes of thousands on him, the weight of the mont heavy on his shoulders.
He heard Byon's distinct shout from the stands.
His first touch was a simple layoff to Douglas Luiz, a nervous pass that nonetheless found its target.
He settled into the midfield, trying to find his rhythm. The pace was ferocious, every player a blur of motion.
He saw his own 'Current' score flicker slightly, adjusting to the unprecedented pressure.
Then, around the 85th minute, with the score still 0-0, Aston Villa launched a final attack.
The ball ca to Leon, deep in midfield. He took a touch, looked up, and his vision flared.
He saw Ollie Watkins making a darting run into the box, marked tightly, but there was a sliver of space opening up between two defenders.
Leon took a chance.
He hit a first-ti, lofted pass, a difficult chip that sailed over the heads of the Crystal Palace defense, curving perfectly into the path of Watkins.
It was an audacious pass, a risk, but his 'sight' had shown him the exact trajectory, the precise weight needed.
Watkins, with his predatory instincts, latched onto it.
He took one touch, then slamd the ball past the onrushing goalkeeper.
GOAL! ASTON VILLA 1 - CRYSTAL PALACE 0!
The stadium erupted. A thunderous roar filled the air, so loud it felt like the ground itself was shaking.
Watkins ran to the corner flag, celebrating wildly, and his teammates sward him.
Leon stood for a mont, breathless, watching the chaos, a wave of pure elation washing over him.
He had done it. His first assist. On his Premier League debut.
The final whistle blew just minutes later. Aston Villa had won! The crowd roared its approval.
As the players walked off, exhausted but triumphant, Coach Ery t them at the tunnel.
He paused in front of Leon, a rare, genuine smile on his face. He extended a hand.
"Welco to the Premier League, Leon,"
Ery said, his eyes gleaming.
"That pass... pure quality. You belonged out there."
Leon shook his hand, his heart swelling with pride. He belonged. The words echoed in his mind as he walked through the tunnel, the cheers of the crowd still ringing in his ears. This wasn't just a debut; it was the confirmation of a new beginning. His second life had just taken its biggest step yet.
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A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Your thoughts in the comnts are always appreciated.
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