The locker room at halftime was usually a place for tactics and shouting. Today, it was quiet.

Michael Sterling looked at his team. They were winning 1 to 0 against Newcastle United. They were beating a Premier League giant. But the cost was sitting right there on the empty bench where Mateo usually sat.

Mateo was in the medical room with a face like a balloon.

Michael turned to Finn Riley. The Wild Fox looked nervous. He was a winger. He liked running forward and shooting. He did not like running backward and tackling. Now, he had to play Left Back against one of the richest teams in the world.

"Finn," Michael said. His voice was calm in the silence.

Finn jumped slightly.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Don't try to be Maldini," Michael said. "I don't need you to make perfect tackles. I just need you to be a pest. You are faster than them. If they run, you run. If they turn, you turn. Be annoying."

Finn cracked a small smile. "I can do annoying, Boss. My mom says it is my best quality."

A ripple of laughter went through the room. It broke the tension.

"Good," Michael said. He looked around the room. "Mateo took a ball to the face for this lead. Do not let his swollen eye be for nothing. We have forty-five minutes to hold the Fortress. Let's go."

The second half began under a deluge of rain. The Yorkshire sky had opened up, turning the pristine grass of Oakwell into a slick, fast surface.

Newcastle United was not messing around anymore.

Their manager made two changes at halftime.

He brought on his captain, a rugged English defender, and his star winger, a lightning-fast Frenchman with feet like drumsticks.

They went straight for Finn.

Minute 48. The Newcastle goalkeeper rolled the ball out. Two passes later, the ball was with the French winger. He looked at Finn Riley, saw a striker playing out of position, and licked his lips.

He pushed the ball past Finn and sprinted.

"Run, Finn!" Michael screamed from the sideline.

Finn turned. He pumped his arms. He was fast. Maybe the fastest player in the Championship. He caught up to the winger in three strides.

The winger tried to cut inside. Finn didn't know how to tackle properly, so he just sort of ran into him.

Shoulder to shoulder.

The winger was strong, but Finn was moving at top speed. The collision sent both of them skidding across the wet grass. The ball rolled harmlessly out for a goal kick.

The crowd cheered. It wasn't pretty defending. It was ugly, messy, chaotic defending. But it worked.

Finn stood up, wiping mud off his face. He gave Michael a thumbs up.

"That works!" Michael yelled back.

Minute 60. The pressure was relentless. Newcastle had 70% possession. They camped in the Barnsley half.

Barnsley could not get out. Every time they cleared the ball, it came right back.

Sam Jones was earning his paycheck.

A cross came in from the right. The Swedish Giant, Newcastle's striker, rose above Higgins. He headed it down.

Sam Jones was there. He caught the ball, clutching it to his chest like a baby. He fell to the ground, wasting precious seconds.

"Slow it down, Sam!" Arthur Milton rasped from the bench. "Kill the clock."

Sam lay there for a solid ten seconds before the referee told him to get up.

He kicked the ball long.

It landed near Kai Sora.

Kai was tired. He had run more in this game than he had in the entire month of August. His socks were rolled down. His hair was plastered to his forehead.

A Newcastle midfielder charged at him.

Kai didn't run. He shielded the ball with his body, leaning back into the player. He waited for the foul.

The whistle didn't blow. The midfielder stole the ball.

"Danger!" Michael whispered.

The midfielder played a through ball. The Swedish Giant was in. He was one on one with Higgins.

Higgins was strong, but he had been playing for sixty minutes against Premier League athletes. He was half a step slow.

The striker shifted the ball to his right foot and shot.

Higgins threw his body in the way.

THWACK!

The ball hit Higgins in the stomach. It sounded painful. Higgins grunted, but he didn't fall. The ball deflected wide.

"Corner!" the referee shouted.

Higgins bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air.

"He is running on fumes," Michael said, looking at his bench. He didn't have another center back. He had a youth academy kid who was sixteen and weighed about as much as a wet towel.

"He has to stay," Arthur said grimly. "The Butcher does not quit."

Minute 75.

It suited Barnsley. Newcastle wanted to play slick, fast passes. The mud slowed the ball down. It turned the game into a brawl.

Barnsley loved a brawl.

Jamie Weston was chasing every lost cause. He was sprinting forty yards just to pressure the goalkeeper, forcing a hurried clearance.

"Look at the fans," Arthur said, pointing his cane at the stands.

Michael looked. The 20,000 Barnsley fans were not sitting down. They were standing in the rain, singing.

"We are Barnsley! Super Barnsley! From the Fortress to the sea!"

They sensed it. They sensed that their team was dying on its feet, and they were trying to carry them over the line with noise alone.

Minute 85. Newcastle threw the kitchen sink at them. They pushed their defenders forward. They were playing with four strikers.

A cross came into the box. Chaos.

Sam Jones punched it. The ball didn't go far. It fell to the Newcastle captain on the edge of the box.

"BLOCK IT!" Michael screamed.

Danny Fletcher, the Prince, the captain, threw himself at the ball.

The shot was a rocket.

It hit Danny in the chest. He collapsed. The ball bounced out to Raph.

Raph didn't clear it. He saw something.

Newcastle had everyone forward. There was nobody back.

Nobody except one man.

Kai Sora.

Kai was standing near the halfway line. He looked like he was waiting for a bus. He was completely unmarked because he hadn't moved in five minutes.

Raph smashed the ball forward.

Kai Sora versus the Newcastle goalkeeper, who was sprinting out of his box.

"Run, Kai!" Jessica screamed from the stands.

Kai ran. It wasn't a sprint. It was a loping, graceful stride.

He got to the ball first. The goalkeeper was ten yards away, sliding in to tackle him.

Kai touched the ball past the keeper.

The keeper clipped him.

It was a foul. A red card foul.

But Kai didn't fall. He stumbled. He kept his balance. The goal was empty.

He was thirty yards out. The mud was thick. His legs were heavy.

He took a touch. He looked at the goal.

A Newcastle defender was sprinting back, trying to cover.

Kai pulled his leg back.

He didn't shoot. He stopped. He put his foot on the ball.

The defender slid past him, crashing into the advertising boards.

The whole stadium gasped.

Kai Sora, in the 88th minute of a cup game against a Premier League giant, had just faked a shot at an empty net to send a defender for a hot dog.

Kai looked at the open goal. He gently passed the ball toward it.

The ball rolled. It rolled through the mud. It was agonizingly slow.

It hit the post.

CLANG!

Michael fell to his knees.

"No!"

The ball bounced back out. But wait.

Who was that sprinting through the mud? Who was the idiot who had run eighty yards in the 88th minute?

It was Finn Riley.

The Wild Fox. The makeshift Left Back.

He arrived at the ball before the recovering Newcastle defenders. He didn't have time to think. He just slid.

He connected with the ball.

It trickled over the line.

GOAL.

2 to 0.

The explosion of noise was physical. It hit Michael in the chest like a shockwave.

Finn Riley didn't celebrate. He just lay face down in the mud, too tired to move.

Jamie Weston jumped on top of him. Then Danny. Then Higgins.

Michael hugged Arthur. The old man was laughing so hard he dropped his cane.

"They are crazy!" Arthur yelled. "This team is crazy!"

Minute 90+4.

The referee looked at his watch.

Newcastle had given up. Their heads were down. They knew they had been beaten by a team that simply refused to die.

PHWEEEEET!

The final whistle.

Barnsley 2 - 0 Newcastle United.

Michael walked onto the pitch. The rain felt like champagne.

The fans were invading the pitch again. Security tried to stop them, but they gave up. It was a party.

Michael found Finn Riley. The kid was covered in mud from head to toe. Only his teeth were white as he grinned.

"I was annoying, Boss," Finn panted. "Was I annoying enough?"

"You were perfect, Finn," Michael laughed, wrapping an arm around him. "You were perfectly annoying."

He saw Higgins shaking hands with the Swedish Giant. The Newcastle striker looked shell-shocked. He pointed at Higgins and shook his head in disbelief. Higgins just shrugged.

And then there was Kai.

Kai was sitting in the center circle, untying his boots. He looked up as Michael approached.

"That fake shot," Michael said, shaking his head. "You gave me a heart attack."

"The defender was fast," Kai drawled. "I had to send him away. Besides, hitting the post was part of the plan. Finn needed a goal."

"You are a liar," Michael grinned.

"Maybe," Kai smirked. "Can we go home now? I am wet."

Michael looked up at the stands one last time. The scoreboard glowed in the rain.

BARNSLEY 2 - NEWCASTLE 0

They were in the Fourth Round. They were fifth in the Championship.

Michael felt a vibration in his pocket. He pulled out his phone.

It was a notification from the banking app.

INCOMING TRANSFER: £150,000 (Cup Bonus)

And then, another vibration. A familiar blue light filled his vision, visible only to him.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: GIANT KILLER II]

[REWARD: 500 SYSTEM POINTS]

[NEW FEATURE UNLOCKED: THE SCOUTING NETWORK (GLOBAL)]

Michael stared at the blue screen. Global scouting.

He looked at his tired, muddy, beautiful team. They were heroes. But they were exhausted. He needed reinforcements. He needed depth.

And now, he could look anywhere in the world to find them.

"Arthur," Michael said, putting his phone away.

"Get the laptop ready. We are going shopping."

Arthur's eyes lit up. "South America?"

"Everywhere," Michael promised. "We are building an empire, remember?"

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