Leo stared at Ethan, his face a cocktail of confusion, shock, and genuine concern.

The roar of 75,000 fans seemed to fade into a distant hum. "An NPC? Ethan, what are you talking about? We're at a real football match! That's a real person! He's got a family, a dog, a favorite type of pizza! He's not a bunch of code!"

Seeing his friend's panicked expression, Ethan felt a jolt of reality.

He had let his mind, so steeped in the logic of the game, run away with him.

The idea was insane. Utterly, completely insane. He had to backtrack, fast.

A loud, slightly forced laugh erupted from his chest.

"Dude, relax! I'm joking!" he said, clapping Leo on the shoulder a little too hard. "God, I've been so deep in the game lately, I'm starting to see traits and animations everywhere. My dad made a 'perfectly timed run' to the kitchen for a cup of tea this morning."

Leo continued to stare at him for a second, his brow furrowed, before slowly breaking into a relieved grin. "Okay, man, you had me worried there for a second. I was about to call for a medic. An NPC," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"You really need a day off."

"Tell me about it," Ethan said, turning his attention back to the pitch, his heart still hammering.

He pushed the unsettling thought, the image of that perfectly executed 'Cool Finisher' animation, to the deepest, darkest corner of his mind. It was a coincidence. It had to be.

The rest of the match was a brutal, fascinating lesson in football.

United's young, energetic team, having landed their one sucker punch, were slowly and systematically dismantled by the sheer, world-class quality of Liverpool.

The Liverpool midfield began to dominate, their famous front three started to find space, and the game turned.

A brilliant, curling shot from outside the box made it 1-1 just before half-time.

Then, early in the second half, a lightning-fast counter-attack, a blur of red shirts and one-touch passing, ended with a simple tap-in. 2-1 to Liverpool. The young United team fought bravely, but they were outclassed. The established stars of Liverpool were just on another level. The final whistle blew with the score remaining the same.

'Prodigy' stood on the sideline, his expression unchanged.

He calmly shook the opposing manager's hand and walked down the tunnel, looking less like a defeated coach and more like a player who had just learned a valuable piece of data from a failed mission.

The train ride home was a much quieter, more thoughtful affair. The initial buzz of being at Old Trafford had faded, replaced by the sober reality of what they had witnessed.

"So, he lost," Leo said, breaking the silence as they rattled through the darkening countryside. "Even with his FCG wonderkids."

"Yep," Ethan replied, staring out the window. "It's not a cheat code, is it? You can have all the S-Rank potential in the world, but you can't just buy the cohesion and experience of a team like Liverpool. It has to be built. It takes time."

"It's kind of reassuring, in a weird way," Leo mused. "Means we actually have a chance to build something real. It's not just about who gets the best players."

He turned to Ethan, a familiar, competitive glint in his eye. "Speaking of which, how's my future FA Cup final opponent doing? Ready for your next match?"

"We've got Wigan away. It'll be tough. But the training this week has been incredible. The win against Bolton really boosted everyone's morale."

"How are the new kids settling in?" Leo asked.

"Better than I could have hoped," Ethan said, his voice filled with genuine pride. "Viktor's hat-trick seems to have completely erased his confidence issues. He's a different player in training now, full of swagger. And Kerrigan... well, he's still a chaotic menace, but he's our chaotic menace. He and Emre are starting to develop this weird, almost telepathic understanding. It's fun to watch."

"And what about our secret weapon?" Leo asked, lowering his voice. "Any new tips from Liam?"

"Are you kidding? My phone is full of them," Ethan said, pulling out his device. "He's become a one-man global scouting network from his hospital bed. He sent me a full dossier this morning on a 17-year-old defensive midfielder from the Brazilian third division. Calls him 'The Octopus'. Says he's the real deal."

"The Octopus?" Leo laughed. "That's an amazing nickname. Is he any good in the game?"

"He's an S-Rank potential monster," Ethan said, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. "But he's valued at £400k, and I've only got £375k left in the budget. I'm so close, but so far."

"Ouch. That's rough," Leo sympathized. "You need a cup run, my friend. That prize money is looking more and more important."

"Tell me about it," Ethan sighed. "What about you? How's the fortress at Orion FC?"

"Solid as a rock," Leo said proudly. "Gallardo, my S-Rank defender, is a cheat code. We won our second league game 1-0. He was man of the match. Again. We're not scoring a lot of goals, but nobody can score against us. I'm building from the back, like a proper Italian manager."

"You, an Italian manager? You don't have the tactical discipline to manage a Sunday league team," Ethan teased.

"Hey! I'll have you know my 4-4-2 is a finely tuned machine of defensive perfection," Leo shot back.

They spent the rest of the journey home like that, laughing, arguing, and geeking out over their shared secret world.

They were two managers, two friends, two rivals on the same impossible journey.

Ethan got home late, tired but happy. He checked on his mom, who was sleeping peacefully, and gave Gaffer a final goodnight pat.

He was about to head to bed when he decided to do a quick check of his FCG inbox on his phone, just to clear any notifications before the next day's training.

There were the usual messages: a weekly training report, a scouting update on a potential loan player, a happy birthday message from the virtual board of directors that was two days late.

He was about to close the app when he saw a new, unread message at the bottom of the list.

It had arrived just a few minutes ago.

The sender's name made his heart skip a beat.

From: Manager 'GridironGuru', Quantum FC

Ethan's finger trembled slightly as he tapped it open.

The message was short, direct, and dripping with a condescending arrogance that was a world away from the charismatic streamer's public persona.

Subject: That was cute.

Couch,

I saw your little cup result against Cardiff. A lucky comeback and a penalty shootout. Don't get used to it. The minnows always get a few bites before the sharks start feeding.

By the way, I just received my personal invitation to the 'Apex Challenge' as a special guest entry. The organizers seem to think my involvement will bring some much-needed prestige to their little tournament.

I'll see you in the later rounds... if you make it that far.

GG.

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