Ethan woke up thinking about toast.
That was it. Not football. Not Millwall. Not the system telling him to dominate the Championship.
Toast.
Specifically, the fact that he'd burned it again.
He stood in the kitchen of his flat, staring down at two slices that were black enough to be legally classified as charcoal, and sighed.
"Brilliant," he muttered.
The system did not respond.
That somehow annoyed him more.
He scraped at the toast anyway, crumbs scattering across the counter, checked the time, and froze.
Late.
Not late late—but close enough to feel his chest tighten. He grabbed a hoodie, pulled it on backwards, swore quietly, corrected it, then spent a full thirty seconds looking for his left sock.
He found it under the sofa.
Of course.
By the time he got into his car, his phone buzzed. Messages he hadn't opened from the night before. Mentions. Notifications. His Instagram—still empty—had gained another few thousand followers overnight.
He turned the phone face down.
Not today.
Training was already underway when he arrived. Not a good look, but not unforgivable. Alex Neil noticed immediately. He always did.
Neil didn't shout. Didn't wave him over.
He just looked at his watch, then back at Ethan.
That was worse.
Ethan jogged onto the pitch, slotting into the warm-up line, heart rate climbing faster than usual. His legs still felt heavy from the match, ribs tender, but manageable.
Alex Neil walked over during stretches.
"You alright?" he asked casually.
"Yeah," Ethan said. Too quickly.
Neil studied him for a second. "You look like you're thinking."
Ethan hesitated. "Just tired."
Neil nodded. "Good. Don't turn football into homework."
Then he walked away.
Ethan exhaled.
That line stuck with him as training began. Passing drills. Short spaces. One-touch. Two-touch. Movement without the ball.
Normal.
Almost too normal.
That's when the system chose to interrupt.
SYSTEM UPDATE: CAREER PROGRESSION ACTIVE
Ethan nearly miscontrolled the ball.
He recovered, laid it off cleanly, then glanced around to make sure no one had noticed. Alex Neil was watching a different drill.
Good.
SYSTEM STATUS: OBSERVATION PHASE COMPLETE
Ethan jogged into space, heart thudding for reasons that had nothing to do with fitness.
He wanted to tell it to wait.
It didn't.
PRIMARY DEVELOPMENT TEMPLATE: CONFIRMED
The words hung in his vision while he sprinted through a shuttle run, lungs burning, sweat stinging his eyes.
This would've been cooler, he thought, if I wasn't dying right now.
During a water break, he leaned forward, hands on knees, pretending to catch his breath.
SYSTEM EXPLANATION: INITIATING
Oh no.
The system's tone was different now. Less assistive. More… certain.
The system does not create ability.
It identifies repeatable patterns of elite efficiency.
Ethan straightened slowly.
Template focus:
• Movement economy
• Decision speed
• Output per touch
He frowned.
That… sounded familiar.
COMPARATIVE MODEL: EARLY-CAREER ANALYSIS
There was a pause.
Then:
PRIMARY TEMPLATE:
LIONEL MESSI – EFFICIENCY DECISION MODEL
Ethan choked on his water.
He coughed, hard, earning a glance from a teammate.
"You good?" someone asked.
"Yeah," Ethan said hoarsely. "Fine."
Inside, his brain was screaming.
Messi?
SYSTEM CLARIFICATION:
This is not replication of physical attributes.
This is not replication of skill ceiling.
Good. Because that would've been insane.
Template focus limited to:
• Spatial recognition
• Timing of action
• Risk minimisation with maximum impact
Ethan stared at the ground.
"So," he muttered under his breath, "no pressure then."
SYSTEM RESPONSE:
Pressure is unavoidable.
Of course it was.
Training finished without incident, though Ethan felt like he was moving half a second ahead of everyone else—not faster, just… earlier. Seeing passes before they opened. Letting the ball go before defenders arrived.
Alex Neil noticed.
After the session, he called Ethan over.
"You're playing simpler," Neil said. "That's good. But don't disappear into it."
Ethan nodded. "Yes, gaffer."
"Football's still football," Neil added. "Don't let anyone—or anything—convince you otherwise."
That felt deliberate.
At home later, Ethan collapsed onto the sofa, phone in hand. His bank app updated automatically.
Weekly Wage: £8,000
Appearance Bonus: £2,000
Ten thousand pounds.
He stared at it for a long moment.
Then ordered groceries without checking the total.
Progress.
That evening, Millwall played again. Ethan came on for the final half hour. Nothing spectacular. No goals.
But in the seventy-ninth minute, he drifted inside, drew two players, and slipped a pass through a gap that hadn't existed a second earlier.
Goal.
The crowd reacted late. Then loudly.
After the match, the system responded.
TEMPLATE SYNC: 3%
Three percent.
That was it.
Ethan laughed quietly to himself in the changing room.
All that… for three percent.
At home that night, scrolling through memes and unanswered messages, the system appeared one final time.
TEMPLATE ACTIVE
GROWTH PATH: NARROW
ERROR TOLERANCE: LOW
NEXT EVALUATION:
UNDER ALEX NEIL
UNDER PRESSURE
Ethan locked his phone and leaned back.
Nineteen years old.
Championship footballer.
Messi template at three percent.
Still couldn't make toast properly.
He smiled.
Then exhaled.
Tomorrow, he'd do it again.
END OF CHAPTER 25
Author's Comment
This chapter was meant to feel normal on the surface.
No explosions. No instant dominance.
The system doesn't make Ethan special — it just raises the standard. Three percent isn't a reward, it's a warning. From here on, mistakes matter more, and progress has to be earned every single match.
Things are about to get uncomfortable.
Thanks for reading — and let me know what you want to see next:
• A bad game under pressure
• Dressing room tension
• England youth interest
• Or the system pushing too far