The virtual crowd at The Apex was in a state of confused uproar, unsure whether to celebrate a comeback or mourn a lost lead.
On the pitch, the Orion FC players were still celebrating their last-second equalizer as if they'd won the league. Leo was in the middle of it all, being hoisted onto the shoulders of his S-Rank defender, Matias Gallardo, a look of pure, unadulterated glee on his face.
Ethan stood in his technical area, watching the chaos unfold. He wasn't angry. The initial shock had given way to a kind of bewildered amusement.
He looked at the 'Derby Day' modifier notification again and just shook his head, a laugh bubbling up from his chest. Of course, the game had a luck stat. It was the only possible explanation for what had just happened.
He walked onto the pitch, weaving through his own disappointed players, and headed straight for the celebrating mob.
Leo saw him coming and, sliding off his defender's shoulders, met him in the center circle with a grin so wide it looked like it hurt.
"Don't say a word," Leo said, holding up a hand, still breathless from celebrating. "Don't you dare say a word about luck, stats, or anything else. That was pure, unadulterated tactical genius and the heart of a champion."
"The heart of a champion?" Ethan laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
"You hoofed the ball into the box for ten minutes and got bailed out by two deflections and a calamitous goalkeeping error. My 'Managerial Instinct' trait didn't even know how to process that level of nonsense."
"Details, details," Leo waved a dismissive hand. "My S-Rank defender scored a 93rd-minute equalizer against your SSS-Rank attacker's team. That's the only stat that matters. I believe the score was 3-3. A moral victory for the underdog."
"You were the underdog for all of five minutes before you switched to a formation from the Stone Age and threw four strikers on," Ethan retorted. "My players didn't know whether to mark them or ask for their autographs."
They both burst out laughing, the competitive tension dissolving into the familiar comfort of their friendship.
"Seriously though," Leo said, his expression turning more sincere. "Your team is good. Really good. That Kerrigan kid is a nightmare, and Emre… he's on another level. I had to put two men on him in the second half."
"And your defender, Gallardo, is the real deal," Ethan admitted. "He's a monster. If it wasn't for him, we would have scored six."
They stood there for a moment, two managers surveying their handiwork, a silent understanding passing between them. They were rivals, but they were in this together.
"Well," Leo said, clapping his hands together. "Pre-season is officially over. The real fun starts now. See you in the FA Cup?"
"You won't make it that far," Ethan shot back with a grin. "Good game, Leo."
"Good game, Ethan."
Back in the Apex United dressing room, the mood was somber.
The players felt like they had lost. They had dominated the game, only to throw it away at the last second.
Ethan walked in, his expression calm and unreadable. He let the silence sit for a moment before speaking.
"Okay," he said simply.
"Let's talk about that. We just drew 3-3 in a game we should have won 3-1. We got complacent. I got complacent. We took our foot off the gas, and a team with nothing to lose punished us for it. It was sloppy, it was unprofessional, and it must never, ever happen again when the points are on the line."
He let the criticism land, seeing the players straighten up, accepting the rebuke.
"However," he continued, his tone lightening considerably.
"That was the final game of our pre-season. And pre-season is not about results. It's about preparation. It's about learning. And we have learned a massive amount in the last three games."
He started to pace, a new energy in his voice.
"We learned we can dominate a team on our level. We learned we can get a harsh lesson from a team in a higher league. And today, we learned how to never, ever let a game slip away again. We have tested our tactics, we have integrated three new, brilliant young players, and we have come together as a team. Our pre-season is complete. It was a success."
He looked around the room, seeing the disappointment in their eyes being replaced by a flicker of pride.
"Everything up to this point has been a warm-up," he declared.
"Next week, the real work begins. The League One season. Forty-six games. A long, hard fight for promotion. And it all starts in seven days, right here, at The Apex."
He paused, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Our first opponent is a team called Luton Town. They're one of the favorites for promotion. They're tough, they're physical, and they probably think we're just some new club with a fancy stadium who are going to be a pushover."
He clapped his hands together.
"Let's prove them wrong. Get your rest. Work hard in training this week. Because next Saturday, we begin our march. Any questions?"
No one spoke. They were already looking ahead. The draw was forgotten. The league was all that mattered.
"Good," Ethan said. "Hit the showers. I'll see you all tomorrow."
As the players began to disperse, a wave of relief and excitement washed over Ethan. The practice games were over. Now, every match mattered. He logged off, the virtual world fading away, leaving him with the quiet hum of his bedroom and the anticipation of the week to come.