Two days after Eden's contract was signed, he had already started adjusting to the main team. After hearing his story, for some reason, the pyers became very fond of Eden, partly because of his innocence. He had been taught the basics of football, and for yesterday's training, he was still focused on learning by watching matches. A faint smile appeared on Reinhart's face as he remembered his future memories. About the crazy striker who shone brightly even at his very old age. Now, Reinhart was waiting for that pyer at a small café near the city center. He waited calmly, sitting alone while gazing at the road wet with dew.

  The café door opened. A young man with a slim build, about 187 cm tall, his hoodie covering part of his face, entered while looking around with a suspicious gnce. It was him. Matias Alvez.

  "Please, have a seat," Reinhart said ftly but kindly.

  Matias pulled the chair with a slight scraping sound. He sat down without touching the coffee that had been provided.

  Reinhart’s eyes focused on Matias, then he spoke, "Don't you want coffee?"

  Alvez, who had been looking down, spoke without answering Reinhart. "Bradford, right?" he muttered finally, staring out the window. "The media says this club is half-dead. Key pyers left. Even the staff left."

  Reinhart didn’t respond, merely raising an eyebrow while sipping his coffee.

  "And now, you need a lot of pyers, a lot of time to adapt. In this increasingly crazy league. Honestly... sounds like nonsense," continued Alves. "Why should I join a pce that everyone believes will sink?"

  Reinhart finally looked directly into Matias's eyes. There was a brief silence. Then he leaned forward.

  "Because you are a failed pyer who sank," Reinhart said.

  Matias furrowed his brow, his expression showing frustration at hearing that statement. "Failed? Nonsense."

  Before Matias could finish speaking, Reinhart interrupted, reading a note that he took out of his pocket.

  "Do you know what was the most talked-about topic in Engnd st season?" Reinhart continued. "It wasn’t about who won... it was about that 17-year-old Uruguayan kid who scored 7 goals in 3 preseason matches."

  Matias fell silent. His hand slowly clenched into a fist on the table.

  "The Next Cavani," Reinhart continued. "That's what they called you. All eyes were on you. But then... the season started. One match, two, three... and no goals. By the end of the season: zero. What was once praise turned into mockery."

  Matias's fist tightened. His jaw clenched, his eyes still downcast. He was about to speak again, but...

  "But I didn’t come here to reopen your wounds, Matias," Reinhart's voice sounded, but unlike the cold tone he had been using, it softened. "I came here to tell you that all of that wasn’t entirely your fault."

  Matias looked at him, slowly but full of repressed anger.

  "You are a striker with the style of a goal poacher. A killer in the penalty box. But st season, you were forced to be a target man. Standing alone up front, waiting for the ball, holding it up, aerial duels. Honestly, you were bad at that because it’s not your style. It’s not your way of pying."

  Matias's expression slowly changed, from anger to confusion. He began listening to Reinhart seriously.

  "The interim coach at Barrow during preseason knew your style. He adjusted tactics to fit your way of pying. He made you shine as a fierce striker. But the season changed... when Barrow’s main coach was announced, everything changed... and everything you had learned was discarded. You were asked to become someone else."

  Reinhart then stared at a vacant spot in front of him. An invisible hologram of statistics appeared, visible only to him, showing numbers:

  Name: Matias AlvezAge: 18Position: CFPotential: 89

  Rating : 81Speed: 83 / 91Physical: 79 / 82Technique: 75 / 88

  Skills:

  Phantom Finisher: Always in the right position to score goals, as if reading the future. Positioning and reactions inside the penalty box are well above average.

  Instinct Trigger: In chaotic situations, tight spaces, and high pressure, his instinct to control the ball and shoot activates automatically. No need to think, just feel.

  Special Notes:

  Inheritor of the Goalfire

  Additional Notes:

  Will rise again at an older age, not now.

  "You’re not the next Cavani, Matias," Reinhart said confidently. "You’re better than Cavani himself."

  Matias lifted his head. His gaze changed. No longer cynical, but still not convinced.

  "You want me to join, but as what? A backup striker? A substitute?" Matias asked, half-challenging.

  "I didn’t come here to look for substitutes," Reinhart continued. "I want you to be the main pyer. The focal point of the attack. The star who will bathe in goals. But that’s not all. I need someone who wants revenge. Not on his old club, but on the fate that tried to crush him."

  He leaned forward, staring sharply into Matias's eyes.

  "My goal is clear, to bring Bradford back to the Premier League. And for that, I don’t need perfect pyers. I need those who have fallen and still choose to rise."

  "If you want to rise, join me."

  Matias stayed silent for a long time. Only the sound of his heavy breathing was heard. But his eyes now burned. No longer dull, but filled with fire.

  Reinhart finally stood up and left, leaving Matias still sitting, staring at the contract in front of him.

  But that day, Bradford got their main striker. And Matias Alvez got his stage back.