Not long after Leeds United's official website posted the transfer bombshells, the front gates of the Thorp Arch training ground were under siege.
A horde of reporters, camera crews, and photographers swarmed the entrance like vultures spotting fresh meat. Everyone was desperate to be the first to snap a shot of the new arrivals—Reus, Hummels, Alves, and Sneijder—or grab a few juicy quotes from the coaching staff. Unfortunately for them, Arthur wasn't in the mood for a media circus.
"Allen," Arthur had said dryly, hands stuffed in his pockets, "go toss them a bone before they chew through the fence."
So off Allen went, sleeves rolled up like he was marching to a battlefield. He flashed his charming PR smile and politely informed the mob that a press conference would be held later that afternoon at Elland Road. Until then, the press were kindly requested to leave the Thorp Arch perimeter—or at least not slobber on the grass.
Inside the training ground, Diego Simeone was already in full drill-sergeant mode, barking at players like an angry rooster. Cones were flying, bibs were tossed, and the sound of footballs being volleyed echoed through the grounds.
Arthur, however, stood a few feet from the touchline, unusually quiet.
He hadn't jumped straight into work today. In fact, he was just standing there, arms crossed, looking a little stunned.
Because exactly one minute earlier—right when he'd stepped onto the training pitch—the familiar metallic ding! echoed in his head.
[Ding! A player in the team bound to the host is about to reach the peak of talent!]
Arthur blinked.
[Ding! System updated. The host can now view the progress bar of each player's comprehensive evaluation in their profile.]
[Ding! Task triggered: Talent Fulfillment!]
[Task: A player in the team is close to realizing their full potential. Help them reach the peak comprehensive evaluation within one month. (Increased training or more game time speeds up the process)]
[Reward: Injury Recovery Card x1, Random Peak Player Template Experience Card x1]
[Note: This task is repeatable. Each time a player is close to reaching peak form, the task will auto-trigger. Check the task list regularly.]
Arthur blinked again.
"…Finally," he muttered under his breath. "Took you long enough."
He had honestly begun to think the system had gone dormant—or worse, had run out of tasks altogether for the season. But here it was, back from the dead, bearing shiny gifts.
And this time, it was feeling generous. Repeatable tasks? Rewards for each peak player? Arthur almost wanted to hug someone. Not Simeone, of course—he looked like he'd bite.
He found the nearest bench and plopped down with purpose. Pulling up the system interface in his mind like a nerd flipping open a laptop, he quickly navigated to the player list.
"Alright, let's see who's ready to explode into greatness," he muttered.
He scrolled past familiar names—old veterans with full bars, young talents still crawling along the progress track—until he landed on one glowing with potential:
[Kasper Schmeichel]
Arthur tapped into the profile. His eyes widened a little.
Age: 21
Offensive Threat: 31
Defensive Strength: 95
Body Balance: 95
Long Pass Accuracy: 87
Short Pass Accuracy: 89
Goal Line Technique: 93
Bounce: 93
Reaction: 94
Agility: 88
Injury Tolerance: A
Talent: A+
Form: Hot
Special Traits:
Accurate Prediction
Extreme Calmness
Comprehensive Evaluation: A (93%)
Arthur whistled under his breath.
"Look at you go, Kasper. You're one clean sheet away from turning into a Danish wall."
He hadn't looked at individual player panels in weeks, maybe months. Usually he just skimmed the overall squad status before each match, making mental notes. But today, he was suddenly reminded of how much progress these players had made. Two years ago, Kasper was just a promising keeper with a famous dad and a decent left foot. Now? He was on the verge of elite.
Arthur stared at the glowing 93% bar like it was a ripe fruit just begging to be picked.
Only 7% left. A few intense training sessions, maybe a couple man-of-the-match performances, and boom—peak achieved. And with it came the reward card. Arthur didn't care much for the recovery card, but that "Random Peak Player Template"? That sounded delicious. Who knew what the system might cough up? A Messi DNA download? A Van Dijk makeover?
Now properly excited, Arthur dove deeper. He spent the next thirty minutes clicking through every player profile on the list—yes, even the kids who still tripped over cones. Maybe he'd find another diamond in the rough.
Spoiler alert: he didn't.
"Well," Arthur muttered with a grimace, "the system giveth and the system taketh away."
Most players were nowhere near their peak. A few were stagnating, stuck in the B+ zone like they were allergic to improvement. The veterans? Already maxed out. The newbies? Barely halfway up the mountain.
Aside from Kasper—and the odd exception or two—everyone else was still far from greatness.
He leaned back on the bench and let out a long breath.
"So basically, it's still the stingiest system ever."
Still, he couldn't complain too much. At least now he had a target. A ticking clock. A measurable goal.
And knowing Kasper, he wasn't going to waste the opportunity.
Arthur's smile returned as he closed the system panel.
"Time to turn you into a legend, Kasper," he muttered, watching the young keeper stretch in the distance.
The system may have been stingy, but it had just drawn a chalk line in front of him—and Arthur wasn't the type to back away from a challenge.
Not when rewards were on the line.
Not when greatness was just 7% away.
And especially not when cameras would soon be rolling at Elland Road.
****
Leeds United was packed with future football superstars—like a cheat code in Football Manager come to life. Most of the players on Arthur's roster were oozing talent, many marked with dazzling S-level potential. But even so, it would take at least one or two more years for this youthful army to truly bloom and hit their prime.
Arthur rolled his eyes so hard they nearly got stuck. He threw another mental curse at the stingy system that promised so much but delivered like a tight-fisted landlord. With a huff, he shut the system panel and trudged back onto the training ground, where a lively session was winding down.
By 3:30 p.m., the day's training wrapped up. The players were sweaty, a bit muddy, and either looking forward to a long shower or pretending they still had more in the tank. Arthur clapped his hands, calling it for the day. "Alright, good work, lads. Hit the showers, don't forget recovery, and no kebabs on the way home."
Meanwhile, Alan was already busy herding the club's latest acquisitions—including Sneijder—off to Elland Road for a mini press conference. The media had been buzzing since the announcement went live on the club's website. They were practically foaming at the mouth to get quotes and pictures of the newcomers. Alan, ever the reliable assistant, handled it with the patience of a man used to babysitting both journalists and footballers.
Fast forward to January 6, 2007. It was time for Leeds United's FA Cup debut for the season, and their first opponent was Portsmouth, away at Fratton Park. The stadium wasn't the flashiest or most modern, but it had a certain grit to it—like someone had tried to polish an old pub and gave up halfway.
Since the press conference a few days earlier, fans and pundits alike had been obsessing over one thing: when would Arthur let the new boys make their debut? He had signed them with a bang—surely they wouldn't just sit on the bench like expensive ornaments?
Arthur, being Arthur, gave them the stage.
He couldn't care less about the FA Cup. With the Premier League heating up and a clash with Chelsea looming large next week, Arthur was already looking ahead. He'd made up his mind—the FA Cup was the perfect sandbox to test out the new toys. And test them he would.
In fact, he sent out a lineup that had the media blinking in disbelief.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! I'm your old friend Lineker!" came the familiar, cheerful voice from the commentary box.
"To be completely honest," Lineker continued with a grin in his voice, "we weren't even going to air this one. Portsmouth versus Leeds in the FA Cup? Not exactly mouthwatering stuff… until Leeds went and exploded the transfer market right after New Year's!"
He let out a chuckle. "So after some intense arm-wrestling with the producer, we decided—screw it, let's broadcast the chaos!"
"Stop showing off," Jon muttered beside him, rolling his eyes and pulling the team sheets toward him. "Let's give the viewers what they came for. Here's the starting lineup for Leeds United."
Jon straightened the paper like he was about to read the weather, then launched into it. "In goal, we have the usual face—Kasper Schmeichel. I can't remember the last time we saw young Neuer. Maybe Arthur's saving him for something special. I'll admit, I miss the German kid's wild saves."
"In defense, from left to right: Dany Mills, Thiago Silva, Hummels, and Dani Alves. That's quite a wall. If Portsmouth want to score today, they're going to need a small miracle and probably a legal loophole."
"And now we get to the juicy bit," Jon went on, tapping the paper with relish. "Midfield is a diamond shape today. At the base is Mascherano, playing as the lone defensive mid. On the flanks, we've got two seasoned legends—Rivaldo and Camoranesi—yes, I said Rivaldo, and yes, he's still got it. Up top in the diamond sits Sneijder, making his return to Leeds after half a season away. Big spotlight on him today."
Jon smirked as he flipped to the forwards. "Now for the strikers. We've got fresh blood in the form of Marco Reus, making his Leeds United debut, and partnering him is none other than Fernando Torres—the man who just scored a hat trick in the last match. Could be fireworks."
Lineker, who'd been enjoying the rundown like it was a bedtime story, finally leaned into his mic. "Jon, I think you forgot something."
Jon blinked. "What's that?"
"You didn't even glance at Portsmouth's lineup," Lineker laughed. "You just did a whole monologue on Arthur's boys like they were the only team on the pitch."
"Oh, right." Jon waved it off. "No disrespect to Portsmouth, but let's be real. With this Leeds squad, they're probably going to spend most of the game chasing shadows."
"Fair," Lineker chuckled. "Still, let's give them credit for showing up."
When Jon asked Lineker what he thought of Arthur's lineup, the ex-striker gave a knowing smirk.
"Well, it's obvious Arthur's got his eyes set on the Chelsea game next week," Lineker said. "He's practically fielded a full reserve squad today. But here's the kicker—this 'reserve' team? Still absurdly strong. It's like he has a second army waiting in the wings."
He paused before adding with a laugh, "Honestly, this squad could probably beat half the Premier League as it is. If Portsmouth think they're catching a break, they're in for a surprise."
And as the camera panned across the tunnel where both teams were lined up to come out, the energy in Fratton Park shifted. Portsmouth's players looked determined, but you could tell some of them were eyeing Rivaldo like they were meeting a legend—because, well, they were.
From the stands to the broadcast booths, all eyes were now on Arthur's bold gamble. He didn't just give the new players a token run-out—he threw them into the fire.
And knowing Arthur, that's exactly where he wanted to see if they could shine.