The away dressing room at Home Park was a scene of beautiful, glorious carnage.

Empty water bottles lay strewn across the floor like fallen soldiers.

The tactics board was covered in celebratory scribbles.

And in the middle of it all, the nine heroes of the miracle win were in various states of ecstatic exhaustion.

Kenny McLean was just sitting on a bench, staring into the middle distance, shaking his head. "I've played over 500 professional games in my career," he said to no one in particular. "I have never, ever seen anything like that. Not even close."

Jonathan Rowe, still buzzing with adrenaline, was re-enacting Emre's solo goal using a stray sock as a ball. "And then he did the little shimmy, and the defender? Gone! And then the keeper? See ya later! It was poetry!"

In one corner, a strange alliance had formed. Grant Hanley and David Kerrigan, the two players who had been sent off, were sitting side-by-side in a self-imposed "naughty corner."

"I hope you're proud of yourself," Hanley grumbled, though there was no anger in his voice, only a kind of weary disbelief. "Getting sent off for a professional foul is one thing. Getting sent off for being a cheeky git is another."

"Hey, we were catalysts for the chaos!" Kerrigan argued, completely unrepentant. "If we hadn't gotten sent off, the gaffer wouldn't have activated his secret 'mad genius' mode. We took one for the team. We're heroes, you and me."

Hanley just stared at him, then slowly broke into a grudging smile and shook his head. "You're an absolute menace, you know that?"

Ethan walked into the center of the room, and a cheer went up. He let it wash over him, a wide, proud grin on his face. He felt less like a manager and more like the ringmaster of the most exciting circus on Earth.

"I have a lot of things to say," he began, his voice hoarse from shouting. "But I think the official game notification I just received sums it up best. It was a 'Legendary Objective'. Not a win. A legend. What you nine men did out there in that last twenty minutes... they will tell stories about it. You refused to lose. You stared into the abyss and spat in its eye."

He looked over at the naughty corner. "Hanley, Kerrigan. You're both suspended for the next three matches. And you're both on cleaning duty with the youth team for a month. But," he added, a twinkle in his eye, "thank you for creating the chaos."

The room erupted in laughter.

"This win is massive," he concluded. "It puts us three points clear at the top of the table. But more than that, it showed us, and the entire league, who we are. We are a team that never, ever gives up. Get showered. Get rested. You are all legends."

He logged off, the sound of his players singing a ridiculously off-key victory song echoing in his ears.

He sat up in the pod, the silence of his bedroom a stark contrast to the joyous anarchy he had just left.

He felt a deep, bone-deep exhaustion, but it was the best kind of tired. He looked at the new trait in his manager profile. 'Chaos Theory'.

A big red button he could press when all hope was lost. It was a terrifying, beautiful new toy.

He was about to get up and fall into his real bed when his bedroom door creaked open. He looked up, expecting to see his dad or his mom checking on him.

Instead, he saw his sister. Sarah was just standing there, leaning against the doorframe, an unreadable expression on her face.

And then, she did something he never expected.

She walked over to the sleek, white, alien-looking pod, and sat down on the end of it as if it were the most normal piece of furniture in the world.

"So," she said, her tone light and teasing. "Done playing with your imaginary friends for the night?"

Ethan blinked, completely taken aback.

"Uh, yeah. Just finished. We won."

"I know," she said, a small, genuine smile playing on her lips. "I could hear you yelling from downstairs. You sounded happy."

"It was... a pretty crazy game," he admitted, a grin spreading across his face.

"Good," she said, and her smile widened. "Because you've earned a break. A real one."

"A break? What are you talking about? I have work tomorrow."

"Not anymore, you don't," she replied, and his heart sank.

Had Mr. Henderson called?

Had he been fired for being too happy about a virtual football match?

Seeing the panic on his face, Sarah quickly clarified. "No, you're not fired, you drama queen. I called your manager, Mr. Henderson. I explained that our mom is recovering and that the whole family has been under a lot of stress. I asked him if it would be possible for you to take a couple of days off, unpaid, just for a family trip. He grumbled something about 'kids today' and 'pickle apocalypses', but he said yes."

Ethan was stunned.

"A trip? Where are we going?"

"Nowhere fancy," she said, her eyes sparkling with an excitement he hadn't seen in years. "Dad's gassed up the car. Mom's doctor said the fresh air would do her good. We're packing a picnic. We're going to the sea."

The sea. The thought was so simple, so wonderfully normal, that it felt more surreal than the nine-man miracle he had just witnessed.

They hadn't gone on a family trip, not even for a day, in years.

"Why?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Because we need it," she said softly. "All of us. And because you deserve it. You've been working at the shop, you've been helping around the house, you've been... present. It's been nice having my brother back."

She stood up and ruffled his hair, just like she used to when they were kids.

"So, get some sleep, gaffer," she said, her voice filled with a warm, sisterly affection. "Because we're leaving at sunrise. And I'm not stopping for coffee, so you'd better be ready."

She walked out, leaving Ethan sitting on the edge of the pod, a feeling of profound, overwhelming happiness washing over him.

He looked at the sleek, futuristic machine that housed his wildest dreams, and then at the simple, familiar door through which his real life was calling.

For the first time in a long time, he had no idea what was coming next. And it felt amazing.

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