The announcement from Coach Emery – "Fischer. You will start." – echoed in Leon's ears, a booming gong that drowned out all other sounds.
Starting against Manchester City in the FA Cup. It was a baptism by fire, a challenge that felt both terrifying and exhilarating. His heart hammered, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs.
Leon's gaze drifted across the room to the other players – seasoned veterans who had faced City countless times. Their 'Current' ratings, already high, seemed to solidify, radiating quiet confidence. For Leon, his own 'Current: 79' felt like a tiny candle flame against a roaring bonfire.
The days leading up to the match were a whirlwind of tactical sessions.
Coach Emery meticulously broke down Manchester City's playing style, their patterns, their individual strengths.
Leon absorbed every word, every diagram, his mind racing to commit it all to memory.
He studied videos of Kevin De Bruyne (Potential: 93, Current: 91), watching his impossible passes, his masterful control of the midfield. He analyzed Rodri (Potential: 90, Current: 89), City's anchor, a wall of calm precision.
And Erling Haaland (Potential: 94, Current: 92), a force of nature in front of goal.
"They move as one," Emery stressed, pointing at the tactical board.
"Their passing is relentless. You, Leon, will be crucial in disrupting their rhythm in midfield."
"You must be disciplined. Always aware. Your vision will be paramount."
Leon nodded, a knot forming in his stomach. His vision was paramount. He had to rely on it, trust it completely.
This was why he had worked so hard, for moments like this.
The day of the match arrived, grey and overcast, the air thick with anticipation.
The bus ride to the stadium was quieter than usual, the players lost in their own thoughts.
As they approached Villa Park, Leon saw the streets packed with fans, a sea of claret and blue scarves and flags.
The atmosphere was already electric.
The dressing room was different today. Less boisterous, more focused. The gravity of the opponent, the prestige of the FA Cup, hung in the air.
Leon found his kit laid out, the number 47 proudly displayed.
He carefully pulled on the Aston Villa jersey, feeling the fabric against his skin, a shield and a responsibility.
Coach Emery gave his final words, his voice clear.
"This is our home. This is our Cup. Play with heart. Play with courage. Believe in each other."
As Leon walked out of the tunnel, the roar that greeted them was a physical force, shaking the very ground.
The stadium was packed, a sea of passionate fans screaming, cheering, stomping. Leon's eyes swept across the stands, spotting his mom, a tiny figure waving frantically, and Byon, jumping up and down, his excitement radiating even from a distance. He gave them a quick, shaky smile.
Then, his gaze landed on the opposing team, already lined up on the other side of the pitch.
Manchester City. Their light blue kits seemed to glow, almost vibrating with an aura of immense talent.
Leon's 'sight' flared, and above each City player, the numbers shone, brilliant and powerful. Haaland's 92 Current. De Bruyne's 91 Current hummed with creative energy. Rodri's 89 Current stood firm like a mountain. It was overwhelming.
The referee blew the whistle.
Kickoff!
The game began at a breakneck pace.
Manchester City immediately took control of possession, their passes zipping around the midfield with incredible speed and precision.
It felt like playing against ghosts – every time Leon thought he had a player trapped, the ball was already gone, moved to another City foot.
"Keep your shape! Close them down!" McGinn's voice barked instructions.
Leon found himself working harder than he ever had. His initial 'Current: 79' felt inadequate against the relentless pressure.
He pressed, he chased, he tried to anticipate, but City's movement was fluid, their understanding almost telepathic.
He saw Jack Grealish (Potential: 88, Current: 86) dance past a defender with effortless grace, his 'Current' shining brightly.
The commentator's voice boomed over the stadium speakers:
"And Bernardo Silva receives it from Foden… he's got space! Oh, is he going to—?!"
Leon reacted purely on instinct. He saw the path, a faint line of intent, guiding him.
He lunged, sliding in, his foot just getting a touch on the ball, deflecting it wide for a corner. A collective gasp of relief from the Villa fans.
"Good block, Leon!" Douglas Luiz yelled, patting him on the back.
But the reprieve was short-lived.
From the resulting corner, Kevin De Bruyne swung in an inswinging cross that curled wickedly.
Rodri rose highest, a towering header that left Emiliano Martínez (Potential: 87, Current: 85) with no chance.
GOAL! Manchester City 1 - Aston Villa 0!
The cheers from the small contingent of City fans were drowned out by a collective groan of disappointment from the Villa faithful.
Leon felt a pang of frustration. They were trying, but City was simply too good, too relentless.
The game continued in much the same vein. City dominated possession, their attacks coming in waves. Leon found himself deeper in his own half than he liked, constantly trying to intercept, to block, to just get a touch on the ball. His 'Current' rating flickered, dropping slightly as the pressure mounted.
Just before halftime, City struck again.
A quick counter-attack, Haaland (Current: 92) bursting through the middle, unstoppable.
Nathan Aké (Potential: 87, Current: 81) hit a perfect through ball, and Haaland, with a clinical finish, slotted it past Martínez.
GOAL! Manchester City 2 - Aston Villa 0!
The halftime whistle blew, a welcome sound.
Leon trudged off the pitch, his lungs burning, his legs heavy. The dressing room was quiet, the weight of the two-goal deficit palpable.
Coach Emery, however, remained calm.
"They are a great team," he said, his voice even.
"But we have not given up. We show them respect, yes, but we show them our fight too.
Be more compact. More aggressive in the press. We get the next goal.
We get one, the momentum shifts." He looked at Leon. "Fischer, you are doing well. Keep seeing the game. Find those small spaces."
Leon nodded, taking a deep breath. He had to believe.
He still saw those glimmering 'Potential' numbers, a reminder of his own growth, his own path. He wouldn't give up.
The second half started, and Aston Villa came out with renewed determination.
They pressed higher, fought for every ball. Leon started to find more passes, linking play, trying to push his team forward.
He even managed to win a free-kick in a dangerous area after a quick one-two with Ollie Watkins.
Douglas Luiz stepped up, and his powerful shot dipped just over the bar. Close!
But City's quality was undeniable.
They soaked up the pressure, then hit back with devastating speed.
Around the 60th minute, Phil Foden (Potential: 90, Current: 88) cut in from the left, dancing past two defenders, and unleashed a curling shot that found the top corner.
GOAL! Manchester City 3 - Aston Villa 0!
A collective sigh went through the stadium. Three-nil. It felt crushing.
The dream of an FA Cup upset was fading fast.
Leon felt a wave of despair. It was too much.
These players were operating on a different level, their 'Current' ratings so consistently high, their movements so flawless. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally.
But then, he remembered his "second life." He remembered his mom, Byon, all the sacrifices. He wouldn't quit. He couldn't.
He dug deep, pushing past the fatigue.
He saw Kevin De Bruyne with the ball, effortlessly dictating play.
Leon rushed towards him, determined to win the ball back, even if just once. De Bruyne, with a subtle shift of his body, passed to Rodri, who then threaded a pass to Haaland.
Haaland, with his incredible strength and speed, burst into the box, shrugging off a defender.
He wound up for a shot, a thunderous strike that would surely make it 4-0.
Leon, already falling back into position, saw it.
Not just the numbers above Haaland, not just his 'Current: 92' pulsing with power.
But something else. A flicker. A faint, almost transparent outline of a leg connecting with a ball, a ghostly projection of the impending shot, a split second before it happened.
It was a new layer to his 'sight,' a momentary glimpse into the immediate future of the play, showing him the exact trajectory, the force, the angle of the strike. It was like seeing the future before it occurred.
It was happening. Now.