The bus ride back from Manchester was quiet.

Isaiah King was asleep, his head resting on the window, clutching his pink boots like a teddy bear.

Kenji Sato was reading a book about recovery yoga, but his eyes were closed.

Only Kai Sora was awake. He was playing a video game on his handheld console, the light illuminating his sunglasses.

Michael Sterling sat at the front. He looked at his phone. The battery was dying because he had received over a thousand messages in the last two hours.

Arthur Milton sat next to him. The old scout was eating a packet of crisps very slowly.

"We did it Arthur," Michael whispered. "We actually did it."

"We poked the bear," Arthur mumbled, crumbs falling on his coat. "And then we punched the bear in the nose. The world is going crazy Boss. My wife just texted me. She says the butcher gave her free sausages because we won."

"Free sausages," Michael smiled. "That is the real trophy."

Michael looked out the window at the passing lights of the motorway. They were fourth in the league. They were in the FA Cup Quarter Finals. They were the story of the season.

But stories cost money.

Michael opened his banking app. The win bonus for the squad was massive. Beating a top six team away triggered a clause in the new contracts.

"We just spent two hundred thousand pounds on bonuses tonight Arthur," Michael said.

"Worth it," Arthur grinned. "For that goal? I would pay it myself."

The next morning, the Sterling Era Training Complex was besieged.

There were camera crews from Japan, France, Uruguay, and Turkey. The global nature of the squad had turned Barnsley into a tourist attraction.

Michael hid in his office. He needed to see the data.

He opened his laptop. The System interface hummed to life.

[MATCH ANALYSIS COMPLETE]

[MAN UTD 1 - 2 BARNSLEY]

[RATING ADJUSTMENT IN PROGRESS...]

Michael watched as the numbers spun. This was his favorite part. Watching his players evolve in real time.

NAME: DANNY FLETCHER

OLD RATING: 76

NEW RATING: 79

STATUS: CAPTAIN FANTASTIC

VALUE INCREASE: +£15,000,000

Danny Fletcher. The boy who missed the penalty at Wembley was now knocking on the door of being an elite striker.

NAME: ARDA GULER

OLD RATING: 78

NEW RATING: 81

STATUS: THE MAGICIAN

LOAN VALUE: ASTRONOMICAL

"We have a problem with Arda," Michael muttered. "Real Madrid are watching. If he keeps playing like this, they will want him back. Or they will ask for one hundred million."

NAME: KAI SORA

OLD RATING: 80

NEW RATING: 83

ATTRIBUTE BOOST: COMPOSURE (20/20)

NOTE: The subject does not feel pressure. He treats Old Trafford like his back garden.

Michael leaned back. His team was getting better every week. But with better ratings came bigger problems.

There was a knock on the door.

It was Danny Fletcher.

The Captain walked in. He looked fresh, despite playing ninety minutes of war the night before. He was wearing a simple club hoodie.

"Morning Boss," Danny said.

"Morning Captain," Michael smiled. "That header. Van Persie would have been proud."

Danny smiled shyly. "Isaiah's pass was perfect. I just had to hit it."

Danny sat down. He looked a bit uncomfortable. He rubbed his hands on his knees.

"What is it Danny?" Michael asked.

"Boss," Danny started. "I am happy. I love this club. You know that. I was here when we were nobodies."

"I know."

"But," Danny paused. "The guys... Isaiah, Kai, Diego. They signed new contracts. Big contracts."

Michael nodded. He knew this was coming.

"They are on hundred thousand a week," Danny said quietly. "I am on twenty five. I am the captain. I scored the winner at Old Trafford."

Michael looked at Danny. He saw the pride. He saw the hurt.

In football, money is respect. If you pay the captain less than the rookie, you lose the captain.

Michael opened his drawer. He pulled out a file.

"I was waiting for you to come in Danny," Michael said.

"You were?"

"Yes. I wanted you to ask. It shows you know your worth."

Michael slid a paper across the desk.

"This is not a negotiation," Michael said. "This is a correction."

Danny picked up the paper. He read the numbers.

WEEKLY WAGE: £90,000

SIGNING BONUS: £1,000,000

CONTRACT LENGTH: 5 YEARS

Danny's eyes widened. "Ninety thousand?"

"You are the leader," Michael said. "Kai is the genius. Isaiah is the spark. Diego is the muscle. But you Danny? You are the heart. Without the heart, the body dies."

Danny stood up. He looked at Michael. He didn't say anything. He just reached out and shook his hand. His grip was strong.

"Thank you Boss," Danny said. "I will score twenty goals this season. I promise."

"You already have twelve," Michael laughed. "Aim higher."

Later that day, the squad gathered in the media room for a tactical debrief. But the mood was too high for tactics.

Leo Volt, the tech billionaire, had sent a gift.

On the table in the center of the room sat twenty brand new, custom made watches. They were smartwatches, but they looked like luxury timepieces. They were Volt Watch Pros.

"For the giant killers," the note read.

"This watch tells me my heart rate," Isaiah King shouted, putting his on. "Look! My heart is beating at 60 bpm. I am ice cold."

"Mine is 45," Kai Sora said, looking at his wrist. "I am almost dead. It is very relaxing."

"Mine says I need to eat more protein," Diego Nunez grunted, looking at the screen. "Smart watch."

Michael walked to the front.

"Nice watches," Michael said. "But look at the screen behind me."

He pointed to the big LED screen.

It showed the updated Premier League table.

1. Manchester City - 35 pts

2. Arsenal - 33 pts

3. Liverpool - 32 pts

4. Barnsley - 29 pts

5. Tottenham - 27 pts

"We are in the race," Michael said. "Officially. We are six points off the top."

The room went quiet.

Six points.

It was nothing. Two wins.

"Can we win it?" Arda Guler asked. The Real Madrid loanee looked serious. "I won the league in Spain. This feels... similar. The energy is the same."

"We are not thinking about winning the league," Michael said quickly. He needed to manage expectations. "We are thinking about the next game."

"Who is next?" Benjamin Pavard asked.

"Everton," Michael said. "At Goodison Park."

A silence fell over the room.

Everton.

The team they had sold Finn Riley to.

"Finn," Isaiah whispered. "I miss him."

"We will see him on Saturday," Michael said. "And he will try to beat us. He will try to show us we made a mistake."

"Finn is fast," Kenji Sato noted. "I will have to run very fast to catch him."

"He knows our secrets," Arthur Milton said from the corner. "He knows The Carousel. He knows The Overload."

"He knows the old Carousel," Michael corrected. "We have evolved."

After the meeting, Michael went to the gym.

Diego Nunez was there. The Bull was doing leg presses. The weight stack was full. He was lifting half a car with his injured leg.

"Diego!" Michael shouted. "Careful! The doctor said light work!"

"This is light," Diego grunted, pushing the weight. "My leg feels strong Boss. It feels like iron."

"When can you play?" Michael asked.

Diego racked the weights. He stood up. He walked. No limp. No crutches.

"I am ready," Diego said. "The pain is gone. The anger burned it away."

Michael looked at the System.

[PLAYER STATUS UPDATE]

[DIEGO NUNEZ]

[INJURY: RECOVERED]

[FITNESS: 85%]

[MATCH SHARPNESS: LOW]

"You can be on the bench against Everton," Michael said.

Diego grinned. "I will sit on the bench and glare at the Everton strikers. They will feel my eyes."

Friday afternoon.

Michael sat in his car in the parking lot. He was about to drive home.

His phone rang. It was Julian Thorne.

"Michael!" Julian shouted. "I saw the ratings! The valuations! We are sitting on a gold mine!"

"We are sitting on a football team Julian," Michael said tiredly.

"Same thing," Julian said. "Listen. I have been talking to the marketing guys. They want to do a tour in the summer. Tokyo. New York. Montevideo. The 'Dynasty Tour'."

"We have to finish the season first," Michael said.

"I know, I know. But think about it. Kai Sora in Tokyo? We will sell a million shirts in one day."

"Julian," Michael said. "We play Everton tomorrow. Finn Riley is going to try and kill us. Can we talk about shirts later?"

Julian laughed. "Okay, okay. Focus on the football. But Michael..."

"Yes?"

"If we make the Champions League... I will buy you an island."

"I do not want an island," Michael smiled. "I just want three points."

"You are boring," Julian said. "But I love you. Good luck."

Michael hung up.

He drove out of the complex.

The rain had started again.

Everton away. Goodison Park.

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