Lying face-up on his bed with his head resting on his hands, Winston eventually sat up and walked toward the fifteen-centimeter-wide floor-to-ceiling curtains. He pulled them aside and immediately hissed at the bright orange morning sun rising over the horizon.
"This is the third day I haven't been able to sleep. The medical staff said my body is probably still in shock from all the training I've been piling onto it," he murmured.
Winston examined his body. His physique had become noticeably more defined, even though he hadn't been lifting weights for very long. His body was beginning to resemble the proportions of Michelangelo's famous statue of David.
He strode toward the bathroom and glanced across the room. Oswin was still fast asleep, his face turned upward as he snored like a chainsaw. Winston envied him.
I wish I could sleep like that.
He splashed cold water onto his face before staring at his reflection in the mirror for a while. He wasn't tired. His stamina was still completely full.
"Today is match day. Even though I haven't been able to get much sleep, I don't feel exhausted. I just hope the exhaustion doesn't catch up with me during the game," he muttered.
With that, Winston stepped into the shower.
Ding!
[User daily challenge]
[Call for the ball: 25/0]
[Deadball goals: 2/0]
[Make assists: 5/0]
Winston sat on his bed with the Core System open, rubbing his chin as he thought about the challenges awaiting him in today's match.
Dead Ball goals, even though I haven't mastered the skill yet. With my current form, it would be difficult to use it even once, let alone twice. He continued studying the challenge requirements. I have to receive the ball twenty-five times. With Oswin on my side, that should be easy.
His eyes narrowed as he considered the next requirement. Hmm... the five assists will be a challenge. Maximilian is one of them. His brute strength is considerable, but his acceleration is sluggish. And judging by this assist challenge, I should be the only one passing the ball to him if I want him to score without passing to another player.
Winston leaned back against the headboard, thinking about the greater significance of today's match. A victory would guarantee them second place in the league table. On top of that, completing the daily challenge would earn him additional reward points and possibly another boost to his skills.
He let out a frustrated sigh. "Why do you wake up so early, bro?" Oswin's familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. Oswin stood beside his bed with his arms stretched overhead, a slow yawn pulling at his jaw.
"What? It's eight in the morning. What time do you usually wake up?"
"Nah, that's still early." Oswin flopped back onto his pillow and buried his face in it. "You should've come to the upper-floor pool party. There were two beautiful girls," he said, lifting his head and making a squeezing motion with his hands. He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one arm. "The coach's decision about your place in the starting eleven is still on your mind, isn't it?"
"Yeah. The striker coach has been giving Maximilian private tutoring."
"Yeah, I've been wondering about that. We all thought he was giving everyone one-on-one training."
"No. He only gives the rest of us basic drills."
"Dang, bro. Did you do something to the striker coach? It looks like there's some history between you two."
"Believe it or not, I've never met him before. All I know is that they hired him around the same time I was transferred here."
Oswin scratched his chin. "His behavior toward you is strange. You'd think he had some kind of grudge against you."
Oswin then headed toward the bathroom. Winston remained seated on the bed, pondering his friend's words. He searched through his memories for an old, grumpy man who smoked like a chimney, but nothing came to mind.
Maybe I did something without realizing it.
Without overhearing the two teammates talking at the club gym, Winston never would have suspected that the striker coach was giving Maximilian an advantage by training him privately.
Now, however, he couldn't ignore it.
If Maximilian is getting private training while the rest of us are only getting basic drills, then I have to find another way to catch up.
Shaking his head, Winston decided to focus on the upcoming match. He didn't want any distractions. Given the pressure of fighting for second place in the league and the prospect of improving his abilities and potential rating, he figured that was for the best.
A player's rating was essential for assessing their potential. Scouts from bigger clubs used those ratings when searching for promising young players. Winston's high shooting rating was largely responsible for his overall potential. His technique was still elementary, yet he could consistently strike the goalpost.
Granted, he still struggled to actually put the ball into the net. The goals he'd scored in previous matches had convinced him that he was improving. In reality, though, there was a lot more luck involved than he realized. Most of those goals had simply been him striking the ball and hoping it went in.
And so far, it had worked.
But how long can I keep getting away with that? The head coach clapped his hands, attempting to rally the squad, who appeared somewhat nervous.
"For now, head to the ground and get some warm-ups in."
The entire team proceeded through the hotel's ground-floor lobby, heading toward the rear entrance that connected to the passageway leading to the football stadium.
As they approached the stairway, Winston's attention was drawn to a heated argument nearby. He recognized the girl from the previous day. She was being confronted by a young man wearing an Arlesey Athletic F.C. uniform.
Upon closer inspection, Winston noticed that the young man appeared to be around the same age as the other youths. He had a pale complexion and a voluminous mass of curly ginger hair. Winston didn't intervene. For all he knew, the two could have been dating and simply going through some relationship problems.
Still, their argument was loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the hotel. "Look, it's Duke, man. And that must be his girl. He's skilled and has a beautiful girlfriend too. I wish I were that lucky."
"You know, you can work hard too. Sure, you won't have the natural talent he was born with, but you could still become like most of us who work hard to achieve something."
"Yeah, but imagine being born with the skills he has, man. I'd just go pro by now."
The conversation between the two youths ahead of Winston continued, prompting him to shift his attention back toward Duke. The ginger-haired youth had now joined two other players.
So that's our competition.
As Westminster's players descended the stairs, Winston suddenly felt a pair of eyes fixed on him. A chill ran down his spine. He whipped his head around. Two twins stood nearby, staring at him with icy expressions.
Great. Now this feels like a death match.
Winston ignored their stares and scanned the crowd instead. He wasn't looking for a familiar face, yet his gaze eventually settled on a figure speaking with another attendee. The nervousness he'd been trying to suppress slowly spread throughout his body. The passing wind made him shiver. Then someone called his name.