The bus made its way toward Arlesey City, home of Arlesey Athletic F.C. This match was an important one for the Westminster youths. A victory would move them into second place in the league table and put them in a much stronger position.
Even though the season was still in its early stages, climbing toward the top of the table would give the players a significant boost in morale.
Dynasty League: Under twenty-one league
1. Bush Hill Rangers F.C. - 9 Points
2. F.C. Cerceda - 7 Points
3. Westminster F.C. - 6 Points
4. Arlesey Athletic F.C. - 5 Points
5. Fair Oak F.C. - 3 Points
6. Western Park F.C. - 3 Points
7. West Hampstead F.C. - 3 Points
8. Giants Hawks F.C. - 0 Points
9. Hartford United. - 0 Points
Winston looked through the Dynasty League pamphlet the head coach had given him during their earlier debriefing. Leaning against the window, he still had trouble falling asleep. His gaze wandered across the tall, wide bus windows. The brightness of the full moon triggered a yawn. He seriously needed this sleep.
He searched his pockets and retrieved a sleeping pill he'd taken from the medicine cabinet that morning before entering the training grounds. Winston wondered which skill he should focus on next. As he stretched his hands, a wave of dizziness washed over him, followed by a sudden heaviness in his eyelids. It hit him like violet waves. Before he realized it, he was knocked out cold.
Winston was jolted awake by a violent shake. He flinched, disoriented, and looked up to see Oswin standing over him with a smirk.
"Bro, you sleep like a log. We've been trying to wake you up for a while now," Oswin said, stretching his arms. "C'mon, everyone's waiting for us outside."
Winston wiped the drool hanging from the corner of his mouth. He felt as though he'd been asleep for days. After stretching, he noticed something immediately. He had never felt this rejuvenated. For so long, Winston had barely paid attention to how exhausted his body had become.
He dragged himself out of the bus, only to be blinded by the morning sun.
"Okay, huddle up. Listen," the head coach said. "We've separated all of you into two groups."
He placed a box filled with room keys on a table. A staff member began distributing them to the youths. Each key was labeled with a number. If two players received the same number, that meant they would be roommates.
When it was Winston's turn, only two keys remained. He and Oswin were the last two players left. They looked at each other and gave each other a dap.
"That's what's up. We're roommates."
"Since everyone is all set, get some rest for now. Tomorrow, around six a.m., report here," the head coach continued. "And no staying out late."
His gaze shifted toward Winston. Winston awkwardly scratched the back of his head. As the youths and club personnel made their way toward the hotel, the striker coach went in the opposite direction, heading toward the entrance of the buses.
As he passed Winston, he called out. "Maximilian, let's go. Time for more training. No need to waste time admiring the scenery."
His raspy, rugged voice carried across the area. He glanced up and down at Winston before walking past him. A potent scent of tobacco and caffeine tickled Winston's nostrils. Winston watched the striker coach disappear around the corner.
"Ayo, Winston, c'mon, bro. Let's check out our room." Winston turned toward Oswin, who was holding the large glass hotel door open.
"Maybe after I'm done unpacking," Winston murmured.
He grabbed his suitcase and followed Oswin inside. "Man, I heard this hotel has a jacuzzi and a sauna. What do you think we should try first?" Oswin asked, flipping through the hotel brochure. "It also has an enormous swimming pool. I hope some babes are there too." A lustful smirk spread across his face.
Winston shook his head. "I'm just gonna head downstairs to the training ground for a couple of drills," Winston said. "I want to use this free time to brush up on some skills."
Oswin, already down to his boxers with a towel draped over his shoulders, glanced at him. "You and your workaholic tendencies are inseparable. Don't go too far, though. We don't want our trump card sleeping in the hospital again."
Sitting on his bed, Winston opened the Core System. To be honest, training on his own without a mentor to tell him where he needed to improve was becoming frustrating. The system made upgrading his attributes fun, but without proper guidance, all he was doing was increasing his stats without actually mastering them.
For example, the Dead Ball skill he'd recently acquired was exactly that—an acquired skill. He still couldn't figure out how to use it effectively. What he had learned from the striker coach the previous day, while watching him train Maximilian, was mostly about form and stance. Even then, Winston still struggled to apply it properly.
Annoyed by all of this, he grabbed his gym bag and headed downstairs toward a nearby training ground.
Ding
[Stats]
Name: Daley Winston
Age: 19
Weak Foot: 2
Foot: Right
Profession: Footballer
Team: Westminster F.C. (Under twenty-one team)
Player Rating: 81
Position: Center forward.
Potential: 87
Acceleration
Sprint Speed
Shooting
Passing
Dribbling
Physical [Nether Essence: 56%]
Reward Points: 00
Acquired Skills
Skills moves:
[Shooting]
Shooting: 70
Att. Position: 67
Finishing: 57
Shot Power: 66
Long Shots: 67
Volleys: 36
Penalties: 44
Winston reviewed his statistics for a while before deciding to continue with his upgraded option. Maybe this time, he could push them to seventy or higher. For the next couple of hours, he alternated between taking penalty kicks and running with the ball for twenty to forty yards. Every so often, he checked his stats.
Nothing changed. The same numbers stared back at him. Unbeknownst to Winston, a distant observer was watching him intently from the training ground balcony. Despite the many people scattered across the facility—some playing, others training—the man's eyes remained fixed on Winston.
"I never thought I would see you come this far, Dad."
"Yeah, the day was too beautiful. Besides, I needed to stretch my legs," the man replied.
"Shouldn't you be at work?"
"It's my break."
"I thought you said your break was usually around noon."
"So you were listening," she said, stretching her body.
"One of my co-workers asked me to cover her shift because she's going to be late."
The man gestured toward the lone youth kicking a ball on the field. "Do you know that kid over there?"
The young woman squinted and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight. "I don't know. Maybe he's one of the groups of footballers who arrived here earlier. I believe there's a game coming up in the next few days."
She glanced at the man. "Should I call him over?"
"No. I was just wondering."
The man turned his back and began walking toward the exit. The young woman watched her father stride away before glancing back toward Winston, who was now sprinting up the steep stairs toward the balcony. When Winston reached the top, he scanned the entire area, hoping to catch another glimpse of the mysterious figure he'd noticed earlier.
He cleared his throat. "Excuse me, ma'am. Do you know where the gentleman who was standing here went?"
"He left."
Leaning against the steel balcony railing, she shifted her body to face Winston. "Do you know him?"
"No. He just looked familiar." Winston hesitated. "He looked like Dumi Crowe, the legendary football striker."
"Is he your hero?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Yes. After my father, he's the second person I look up to. He's the one who inspired me to choose the striker position."
"It must be important for you to meet him."
"It is."
She studied Winston for a moment before speaking. "Listen. The day after tomorrow, around noon, meet me here."
"Okay."
Winston watched the captivating young woman walk away. She wore a neat hotel uniform as she disappeared down the corridor. He remained on the balcony for a moment, his mind filled with questions.