The town of Morecambe was caught in a carnival-like atmosphere.
Across Europe—and especially on the British Isles—the media had begun to take notice.
After all, a Fourth Division club had just dropped over €20 million on signings without warning. Anyone would be curious.
And for the press, curiosity was more than enough to stir a frenzy.
Once word got out, The Independent quickly published a front-page piece with the headline:
"Fourth-Tier Side Spends €24 Million on Day One of the Transfer Window—Who is the Mysterious New Owner?"
The article detailed Morecambe's modest history, broke down the quality of the new signings, and dove into the club's sudden transformation under new owner Juninho D'Alessandro.
Within days, football fans across the UK were talking about Morecambe and its enigmatic owner.
Some fans even used the news to throw shade at their own club owners.
"If a Fourth Division team can spend €24 million," one fan grumbled online, "what excuse does a League One side have for not even putting up €10 million?"
Just two days later, Morecambe dropped another bombshell—a €8 million signing from Sweden's Allsvenskan: Zlatan Ibrahimović!
With a total outlay of €32 million, Morecambe suddenly ranked in the top 10 highest spenders of the 2000 summer transfer window.
More news outlets picked up the story. Morecambe's past, present, and seemingly explosive future became talking points across the football world.
Even neutral fans were starting to keep an eye on their results.
---
A few days passed.
At Morecambe's training ground, newly signed players reported in one after another. Those who didn't meet the new standards were respectfully let go.
Soon, the club finalized a 24-man senior roster.
The team's original head coach, upon receiving the new squad list, was summoned to Juninho's office for a meeting.
Inside the owner's office, Juninho D'Alessandro sat calmly behind his desk. Standing nearby were Ryan and the now clearly nervous head coach.
"Sir, I still don't even know your name," the head coach began, cautiously.
Juninho gave a small smile. "That's alright. You won't need to."
The coach blinked.
"I'm sorry," Juninho continued, still polite but firm. "We'll be paying your severance immediately. Your services are no longer required."
Football was cruel—and the truth was clear. The original coach simply didn't have the ability to manage a squad like this.
No matter how much he may have cherished the role, it was time for him to go.
"You're letting me go?" the coach asked, stunned—though a flash of disappointment quickly replaced the shock.
He'd suspected as much before walking in. With the kind of money being thrown around, it made no sense for a lower-league manager like himself to remain in charge.
Still… he hadn't expected the decision to be delivered so bluntly.
"Then… who will replace me?" he asked, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.
Juninho smiled. "I will."
"…You?" the coach repeated, eyes narrowing.
He glanced Juninho up and down. Was this a joke?
He had assumed the new owner would hire a top-tier manager. Instead… he was planning to take the role himself?
"Young man," the coach said, tone hardening, "money doesn't mean everything. At least respect the game."
"If you're going to sack me, that's your right—but at least bring in someone competent."
Juninho chuckled softly and turned to Ryan. "Mr. Ryan, please show him out. And make sure the severance is paid."
There was no point explaining himself—no way to tell the coach that he was actually a time traveler who knew the future of football, or that he had access to a player training system from another dimension.
Better to end things cleanly.
Ryan sighed, clearly conflicted, but nodded and motioned to the door. "This way, please."
The coach clenched his jaw as he followed Ryan out.
At the door, he muttered, "If you really take over this team, I swear—I'll watch every match."
"And when you fail, I'll be the first to mock you."
"You should go back to whatever business world you came from. Don't disgrace the bench of football. You're no coach—especially not a kid playing games!"
Juninho merely smiled as the coach stormed off.
No hard feelings. The man clearly loved football—he just couldn't see the vision yet.
---
Once Ryan returned, Juninho handed him a stack of printed documents.
"This is the new training schedule. Starting tomorrow, we follow this."
Ryan glanced at the papers. The layout looked fairly standard.
Two hours of technical work in the morning… followed by two hours of physical conditioning in the afternoon.
But his brow furrowed as he noticed something strange.
"Sir… why are Messi, Ronaldinho, Ibrahimović, and Vidić on completely different training plans?"
Juninho looked up.
"They each have a personalized program. Don't question it—just make sure they stick to it. We'll see the results by the end of the season."
What Ryan didn't know was that Juninho had purchased these custom plans from the system for 120 points.
The training wasn't dramatically different in content—but if these four stuck to the regimen for a full season, each would gain +15 attribute points.
Fifteen points might not sound like much… but for talents already close to world-class, that was the edge they needed to surpass their original timelines.
Several seasons on this track, and they'd soar past the heights they'd ever known.
"…Alright then," Ryan said after a pause. He still didn't fully understand, but trusted the boss's instincts by now.
He left the office and began distributing the team's new training plans.
Back in his seat, Juninho finally let out a long breath.
Everything was in place.
Now it was time to lead this team—for real.
---