The adrenaline from the Newcastle match had finally faded, leaving Leon with a pleasant ache in his muscles and an even more satisfying buzz in his mind.

Two-one. His first Premier League goal. The winner. It felt like a dream, yet the triumphant shouts of his teammates, the roar of the crowd, and the constant stream of congratulatory messages on his phone were all very real.

In the dressing room after the game, the atmosphere was electric. John McGinn had clapped him so hard on the back, Leon thought his spine might pop.

"Welcome to the big leagues, Leo! What a strike!"

Ollie Watkins (Current: 86) simply grinned, shaking his head.

"You just… knew, didn't you? Knew exactly where that little gap was."

His eyes held a flicker of curiosity, as if trying to understand how Leon saw the game.

Even Coach Emery, who rarely showed much emotion, had given him a firm handshake and a rare, genuine smile.

"Excellent, Fischer. That is what we want. To find the solution."

Leon's own 'Current' rating now stood proudly at 80. It was a huge leap, a clear indicator that playing at the highest level was rapidly accelerating his development, pushing him closer to the elite players.

The next few days were a welcome reprieve.

Coach Emery had given the team a couple of light training sessions and then a much-needed day off. Leon spent the morning recovering, icing his hip, and catching up on sleep.

He still thought about his 'sight,' about the ghostly projections that now accompanied the numbers. He was getting better at interpreting them – the foot and ball for a shot, the arc for a pass, the outstretched leg for a tackle.

It was a language he was rapidly learning to speak.

Later that afternoon, he met Byon in the academy common room. Byon (Current: 79) looked tired, but a hopeful energy radiated from him.

His final assessment for the senior pathway was tomorrow.

"Rough night?" Leon asked, noticing the slight dark circles under Byon's eyes.

Byon groaned, flopping onto a sofa.

"Couldn't sleep. Just replaying every single drill. What if I mess up? What if Mr. Davies still thinks I'm not consistent enough?"

Leon sat beside him, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Hey. Don't even go there. You've worked your tail off. Your 'Current' is 79 now, Byon. That's fantastic.

You're making better decisions, your runs are sharper, your finishing is clinical. You've earned this."

Ethan (Current: 75), the agile midfielder from their U16 days, walked by, overheard them, and chimed in.

"He's right, Byon. You've been on fire in training. Everyone's been talking about your improvement."

Byon managed a weak smile. "Thanks, guys. Just… feels like everything rides on this one day."

"That's why you thrive on it," Leon said, remembering his own Premier League debut.

"Pressure makes diamonds. You're a diamond, mate. Now, come on. Let's get out of here for a bit. My treat. My mom gave me some cash for the Newcastle goal."

Byon's eyes lit up. "Free snacks? Now you're talking! The academy canteen's getting boring."

They decided to walk to a market not too far from the academy grounds, a bustling place with fruit stalls, small cafes, and local shops.

It was a good way to clear their heads. As they walked, Leon felt a few eyes on him, subtle whispers, and quick glances.

"Did you see that?" Byon mumbled, nudging him. "That lady just pointed at you."

Leon shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

"Probably just recognized the Villa kit." But he knew it was more than that. It was the growing recognition from his Premier League appearances.

As they entered a small bakery, the smell of fresh bread and pastries filled the air. Leon was choosing a croissant when the baker, a cheerful man with flour on his apron, suddenly stopped.

"Are you… Leon Fischer?" the baker asked, his eyes wide.

Leon nodded, a little awkwardly. "Yeah, that's me."

"Oh my word!" The baker beamed.

"I saw your goal against Newcastle! Absolutely brilliant! My son, he plays for the local U10s, he wouldn't stop talking about it! Said you're his new favorite player!"

He gestured to a large, freshly baked cake. "Here, on the house! A celebration cake for a future star!"

Leon felt a blush spread across his face. "Oh, you really don't have to–"

"Nonsense!" The baker pressed a small, perfectly decorated chocolate cake into Leon's hands.

"Go on! Keep up the good work!"

Leon walked out of the bakery, the cake box in hand, Byon roaring with laughter beside him.

"A free cake, Leo? You're officially famous!"

"It's... weird," Leon admitted, feeling a mix of amusement and slight discomfort.

He was used to the praise from coaches and teammates, but public recognition felt different, heavier. It meant more eyes were on him now, more expectations.

They found a quiet bench in a small park nearby and devoured the cake, the sweetness a perfect counterpoint to the day's events.

They talked about Byon's assessment, Leon giving him last-minute tips, reassuring him.

"Just remember what Mr. Davies said," Leon advised.

"Consistency. Don't try to do too much. Show them you can make the smart pass, the intelligent run, every single time." He saw a faint 'determination' shimmer around Byon's 'Current: 79', a positive sign.

"I will," Byon promised, finishing the last piece of cake. "I swear, I'm going to make you proud."

The next day, Leon felt a quiet anxiety for Byon. He had his own light training session with the first team, but his mind kept drifting to his best friend.

He knew how much this meant to Byon, how hard he had worked to overcome that initial critique from Mr. Davies.

Later that afternoon, after his training, Leon was in the common room, scrolling through football news, when his phone buzzed.

It was a message from Byon: "It's done. I'll tell you everything later. Meeting up?"

A wave of relief washed over Leon. "Yeah! Come to my room when you're done."

Hours later, as dusk settled over the academy, Leon heard a knock on his door.

It was Byon, but his usual exuberant greeting was subdued.

"So?" Leon asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. "How did it go? Are you in?"

Byon walked in, his hands in his pockets. He sat on Leon's bed, looking at the floor.

"It went... well, I think. I played really well, Leon. Best I've ever played, honestly. I followed everything you said. Made smart choices. Was consistent."

"That's great!" Leon felt a surge of hope. "So, what's the news? Are you on the senior pathway?"

Byon finally looked up, a strange, unreadable expression on his face.

He held Leon's gaze for a long moment, then slowly reached into his pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper, a crisp document.

"They… they offered me a contract," Byon said, his voice barely a whisper. "A professional contract."

Leon's heart leaped. "Byon! That's incredible! Congratulations! I knew you could do it!" He felt a surge of pride for his friend. This was fantastic news!

But Byon didn't smile. He just held out the paper. "Read it, Leon."

Leon took the document, a wave of confusion washing over him. Why the somber tone? He unfolded it, his eyes quickly scanning the official-looking text, then freezing on the bold, prominent logo at the top.

His unique sight flared, the words on the page suddenly feeling impossibly bright, pulsing with an almost blinding energy.

The logo wasn't Aston Villa. It was a familiar, distinct sky-blue badge.

The name written clearly beneath it, confirming the crest:

MANCHESTER CITY FOOTBALL CLUB

Leon's breath hitched. His eyes darted from the logo to Byon's face, then back to the contract. Manchester City? The champions?

The team that had just crushed them 4-2? His mind reeled.

He looked at Byon, who finally met his gaze, his eyes filled with a complex mix of triumph, hesitation, and something else Leon couldn't quite decipher.

Byon had just signed with their biggest rivals. The shock was immense, hitting Leon like a physical blow. This was not how he had imagined their shared journey continuing.

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A/N: Every power stone helps! Thanks for sticking with the story.