CHAPTER 36: THE POINT OF NO RETURN

The three days following the Old Trafford game were a strange, heady mix of triumph and anxiety.

The "Barnsley Braves" were the toast of the lower leagues, and the training ground was electric.

But as the week wore on, the "Raphael Problem" became the shadow in the back of everyone’s mind.

The team’s second league match was on Saturday, away at Crawley Town.

A team with a notorious reputation. They were a squad of physical, cynical, "dirty" players who specialized in dragging their opponents into ugly, brutal street fights. They were the exact opposite of Arthur’s new philosophy.

They were the worst possible test for a [CA 48] player who looked like he was made of bird bones.

Michael and Arthur watched him in the light possession drills.

The kid was a magician, a true [PA 93] talent. He’d pull off a no-look pass that would make the senior players gasp.

But then, the 200-pound captain, Dave Bishop, would jog past him, accidentally brush his shoulder, and Raphael would go flying, tumbling onto the turf like a bowling pin.

It was horrifying. He was a priceless, fragile diamond, and they were about to play against a team of hammers.

The "Rafael problem" was eating at Michael. He couldn’t sleep. He sat in his office, staring at the tactics board, a knot of dread in his stomach. He had unleashed Jamie and Finn, and it had worked. But this was different.

He couldn’t just hope Raphael would be okay. He had to make him okay.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"System," he thought, his voice a low, desperate command. "Show me my balance."

[BALANCE: 150 SYSTEM POINTS.]

It was the 100 points from the ’Honorable Defeat’ achievement, plus the 50 he had left over from buying [Power Shot]. It wasn’t much.

He’d spent all morning browsing the shop, but he hadn’t seen the perfect solution.

"Open the Skill Shop," he commanded.

The familiar blue list appeared.

[Power Shot].

[Shadow Dribbler].

[Third Lung]. All the one-match skills. They were good, but they didn’t solve the core problem. A stamina boost was useless if your leg was broken.

"Is this all you have?" he muttered, frustrated. "Scan for new skills. Anything related to... to injury prevention. To agility."

The system screen flickered.

[Scanning for new traits... One new item found!]

A new skill, one that hadn’t been there before, slotted into the list. It was a Permanent Trait, not a temporary boost. And it was expensive.

[PERMANENT TRAIT: Evasive Dribbler]

[Cost: 150 Points]

[Description: Massively boosts a player’s core Balance, Agility, and the ability to ride challenges. The player becomes almost supernaturally elusive. Reduces the chance of injury from tackles by 50%.]

Michael’s heart stopped. It was perfect. It would turn Raphael from a glass diamond into a slippery, untouchable ghost. It was the exact, tailor-made solution to his impossible problem.

But it cost 150 points. It was every single point he had.

He wouldn’t be able to buy any more [Power Shot] boosts for Jamie. He’d be completely broke.

He looked out the window. He saw Raphael, on the sidelines, trying to communicate with Finn Riley using a series of confused hand gestures, a small, hopeful smile on his face. He was a kid who had crossed the world for a chance.

Michael couldn’t let him be broken on the first test.

This was the definition of "all in."

"System," he commanded, his voice firm. "Purchase [Evasive Dribbler]!"

[Skill Purchased: Evasive Dribbler - 150 pts!]

[Current Balance: 0 pts].

His points vanished, leaving a painful, hollow zero. He had no safety net.

"Gift skill to: Raphael Santos. Permanently."

[Skill Gifting Confirmed. Raphael Santos has permanently learned the trait: Evasive Dribbler!]

A profound wave of relief washed over him. He had protected his asset. He had done the right thing. He leaned back in his chair, exhausted, broke, but satisfied.

And then, the blue screen flashed again, brighter this time, a celebratory fanfare echoing in his mind.

[MILESTONE ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED!]

[Congratulations! You have spent a total of 300 System Points!]

[Your commitment to building your empire has been recognized!]

[NEW FEATURE UNLOCKED: SYSTEM SHOP - FULL ACCESS!]

Michael sat bolt upright. "Full access?"

[DESCRIPTION: The full capabilities of the System Shop are now available. You may now purchase Consumable Items and Lottery Tickets!]

A new, expanded shop interface materialized in his vision, full of tabs and glittering new options. His eyes went wide. The "Skills" list was now just one small part of a much bigger, more glorious store.

He clicked on the [CONSUMABLES] tab.

[Minor Recovery Potion] (Cost: 50 pts): Instantly removes ’Minor Fatigue’ or ’Knock’ status from one player. (Max 3 per week).

[Single-Player Stamina Boost] (Cost: 100 pts): Sets one player’s stamina to 100% for the next match.

[Team Morale Booster] (Cost: 150 pts):

Slightly boosts the entire squad’s morale for 3 days.

His mind raced. He could manage fatigue after tough matches! He could ensure his stars were always at 100%!

Then, he saw the last tab. The one that made his inner gambler’s heart pound. [LOTTERY].

[Skill Lottery Ticket] (Cost: 200 pts): Grants one random Common or Rare skill to a player of your choice. (1% chance of an Epic Skill!)

Michael stared at the list, his mouth dry, his mind buzzing with a thousand possibilities. He could build a team of supermen. He could buy skills, manage fatigue, boost morale... He was a true fantasy manager, a god of his own small footballing universe!

And then, his gaze drifted back to the top of the screen.

[BALANCE: 0 PTS]

He had just unlocked the candy store... and he was completely, devastatingly broke.

The next day, in the away dressing room at Crawley, the atmosphere was thick. The room was tiny, the paint was peeling, and it smelled like damp.

Arthur stood in front of his team. They were ready for a battle.

"Right, lads," Arthur said, his voice calm. "You know the opponent. They’re not here to play football. They’re here for a fight. We are not going to give them one. We are going to be a ghost. We will be too fast, too smart, and too quick for them to even touch."

He turned to the tactics board. "Lineup. Jamie, you’re on the left. Finn, you’re on the right. Danny, you’re up top."

The "Holy Trinity." The players nodded, a murmur of approval. It was the combination that had terrified Man United.

"But," Arthur said, his voice dropping, "we are not playing a 4-3-3." He looked at his team, a terrifyingly confident smile on his face. "Today, we fight magic with magic."

He slapped a new name magnet onto the board, right in the hole just behind Danny Fletcher.

"Starting at the Number 10 spot... Raphael Santos."

A bomb had gone off. The room was in absolute, stunned silence. Michael, standing at the back, felt his own heart stop. He had bought the skill to protect the kid, not to start him against a team of butchers! This was insane!

The players were staring at Arthur, their faces a mask of pure, unadulterS. "Gaffer..." Dave Bishop said, his voice trembling. "He’s... he’s just a kid. They’ll... they’ll murder him."

"No, they won’t," Arthur said, his eyes glittering. "Because they won’t be able to catch him."