The air in the locker room was heavy. The pyers were still catching their breath, their jerseys soaked in sweat. Some slumped on the benches, others leaned against the walls. No one dared to speak.

  Then, Conrad walked over to Lucien and Harry and wrapped them in a hug.

  "Hahaha, thank you. Because of you two, we got our revenge."

  Lucien, as usual, remained stiffly silent. But Harry’s face lit up with joy.

  Conrad then turned to Harry. "Kid, your run was insanely fast, but don’t push yourself too hard. You’re still young. You’ve got a long way to go."

  Then, the sound of steady footsteps echoed—

  Reinhart walked in, followed by McNeil and Malcolm. His steps were slow but heavy, his boots clicking against the locker room floor. Every head turned. Silence draped over the room like a thick fog.

  Expressionless, Reinhart stood before his pyers.

  "2-1. You came back. But you haven’t won yet. Don’t get compcent."

  His voice was calm but sharp.

  He scanned each of their faces.

  "Conrad… you lost too many duels against Bruno."

  "Thomas… your positioning improved, but twice you let Kyler shoot from outside the box. Don’t give him that space again."

  "Ismael, good in duels, but don’t panic when clearing. Two of your clearances nearly became chances for them."

  "Lucien…" (He paused, a faint smirk forming.) "You appeared at the perfect moment. Keep pying like that—don’t get satisfied too quickly."

  Then, Reinhart turned to Harry. Every eye followed.

  Harry bowed his head. His body still trembled from the adrenaline of his goal. But his racing heart wasn’t from exhaustion—it was from fear of being scolded.

  "Harry… in the first half, we almost lost our rhythm because of a lost ball on the right fnk. That was on you."

  Harry bit his lip. His head sank lower.

  "But…"

  Reinhart walked slowly toward him.

  "You made up for it. You chased down the keeper. You scored. And you lifted this team’s spirit."

  His expression remained cold, but his tone softened slightly.

  Then, Reinhart stopped right in front of Harry.

  With one hand, he patted Harry’s shoulder.

  "Thank you for working hard for the team."

  Harry looked up. His eyes glistened. A few teammates smiled faintly. Lucien gave a proud nod from his seat.

  "Remember this. In the second half, I don’t just want you to py. I want you to fight. Not for the score. But for the name on your chest… and the name on your back."

  "We’re changing tactics for the second half. We’re targeting this pyer."

  Reinhart pointed at a photo—a substitute who was certain to be brought on in the second half.

  After listening to the pn, the pyers prepared for the second half.

  One by one, they stood up. Their breaths steadied. Confidence began flowing back into their veins.

  Harry rose to his feet, met with a light punch to the chest from Conrad.

  He chuckled softly—but this time, with confidence.

  They marched out of the locker room, strides firm.

  The second half awaited.

  [SECOND HALF – Priestfield Stadium – Gillingham 1 : 2 Bradford]

  Bradford City made multiple substitutions:

  Matias repced by Duvant

  Ismael repced by Eden Mirza

  Tom Shield repced by Koji Yamane

  With these changes, Bradford’s formation shifted dramatically. They adopted a 4-3-3, with Alexander Kamara as the pivot and Eden Mirza orchestrating py.

  [Commentator 1]:"Attention, everyone! Bradford has made three substitutions at once—this is a complete overhaul!"

  [Commentator 2]:"Ismael is repced by Eden Mirza, Matias is pulled out, and Duvant—the young winger—comes in. Lastly, Tom Shield makes way for Koji Yamane. And look at this… Lucien is now pying as a false nine!"

  [Roger]:"This… this is a 4-3-3. But not just any 4-3-3. Look at their positioning—it’s Tiki-Taka! Just like Guardio’s Barcelona!"

  The kickoff restarted, but this time, the ball seemed glued to Bradford’s feet. Quick, short, precise passes flowed effortlessly.

  [Martin, stammering]:"What… what are we seeing?! Bradford is dominating completely! They’ve transformed into an entirely different team!"

  Pass after pass. Eden was the conductor of it all—directing the orchestra. Gillingham struggled to regain possession, let alone mount an attack. And one pyer was visibly frustrated—Owen Valerio.

  Gillingham’s young star, brought on to change the game, now looked isoted on the left fnk. Every time he tried to push forward, Lucas Lecir was there—cutting off his space, intercepting passes meant for him.

  [Commentator 1]:"Owen tries to press… but look at that! Lucas Lecir is like a shadow—never letting him escape!"

  And when Owen finally got the ball for the first time in the second half—it became the beginning of the end.

  He dribbled forward, trying to cut inside. But his run was abruptly halted—Lucas’ clean tackle swept the ball away, straight to Iron Lhen!

  [Commentator 2]:"Interception! So clean by Lucas!"

  Iron Lhen controlled it instantly—one touch, then a pass to Eden.

  Eden received it, pyed a quick one-two with Lucien—who then backheeled the ball magically to the right. Koji Yamane sprinted into the box, escaping the offside trap.

  Only the keeper remained. He rushed out too early—Koji gnced up, saw him off his line, and squared it to Duvant, arriving te on the left.

  A measured pass. A cool finish. GOAL.

  [Commentator 1]:"GOOOOOAAAAALLL!!! DUVANT! A near-perfect Tiki-Taka masterpiece!"

  Gillingham was rattled.

  But the match wasn’t over yet.

  [Minute 70]

  Mike Aliston came off, repced by Mike Lankshear—a young pyer who hadn’t stood out much before. But this time, Reinhart had a different pn.

  With Mike pushed higher, Bradford’s Tiki-Taka grew even bolder.

  Koji cut inside, dragging the fullback with him. Eden and Iron exchanged quick passes before releasing Mike on the right—completely unmarked.

  [Commentator 2]:"Mike! No one’s marking him—he’s charging down the right fnk! And wow… a low cross coming in—"

  In the box, Lucien positioned himself. The ball arrived behind him. Everyone thought he was too te… but no.

  Lucien jumped—and as the ball nearly passed behind him, he lifted his heel and executed a SCORPION KICK!

  The shot stunned everyone—including the Gillingham keeper, who stood frozen as the ball curled into the top-left corner.

  The crowd fell silent. Gillingham’s pyers stood motionless.

  [Commentator 1]:"THAT… THAT’S INSANE! A SCORPION KICK! LUCIEN HAS DONE IT!"

  1-4.

  Owen was subbed off. His face was pale, disbelief written all over it. On the bench, he stared bnkly at the pitch—no longer the shining prospect he once was. He also caught the furious, frustrated gre of his coach.

  Then, his eyes locked onto the gaze of one man—the opposing coach, who had been watching the match with cold detachment.

  Reinhart.

  As if sensing Owen’s stare, Reinhart turned and met his eyes.

  For a moment, Owen felt something strange—Reinhart’s calm, calcuting expression sent a chill down his spine.

  The match resumed. Everyone thought it was over.

  But Bradford wasn’t done.

  The party wasn’t finished.

  Bradford kept pressing. Eden, Lucien, and Duvant combined on the left—one-twos, triangles, pure magic.

  Duvant broke free. One-on-one with the keeper. No power. No emotion. Just a delicate chip—lifting the ball over the keeper’s head.

  GOAL.

  [Commentator 1]:"This… is a massacre. 1-5. Gillingham can do nothing…"

  Gillingham’s supporters, once roaring, now sat in silence. Some even began leaving the stands.

  On Bradford’s bench, Reinhart stood, watching the field. The cameras caught a small, knowing smile on his face.

  He then gnced at the opposing bench—Gillingham’s coach, head bowed in frustration, and Owen… staring emptily at the pitch, hope lost.

  Then, Reinhart called McNeil and Malcolm over.

  "In the winter transfer window—no matter what it takes, get him."

  Malcolm and McNeil followed his gaze—only to see the pyer who had performed disastrously in the second half, subbed off in shame. A broken, frustrated figure.

  Malcolm hesitated. "But… he had a terrible half."

  Reinhart smirked.

  "He pyed badly because we targeted him. That’s why he failed. We designed this tactic to destroy one man—to crush his confidence and make him the scapegoat. And now… we can get him cheap."

  Malcolm and McNeil finally understood.

  This was madness—usually, young pyers with little pytime would crumble under such pressure. Their careers could stall, their value plummet.

  "Besides, he’s a young pyer with room to grow. And he’s exactly what we need for the brutal schedule ahead."

  As he spoke, the holographic projection Reinhart had seen earlier flickered in his mind once more.

  Name: Owen ValerioAge: 16Position: Versatile (All Positions)Potential: 95Rating: 70

  Stats:

  Speed: 71 / 95

  Physicality: 69 / 95

  Technique: 73 / 95

  Skill:Jack of All Trades – Can fill any position, but cks specialization.

  Special Note:A pyer who failed because he was deemed unable to fulfill his role.

  [Commentator 2]:"From trailing… to total domination. Bradford has delivered a world-css performance. This isn’t just a win. This… is a lesson."

  FINAL SCORE: GILLINGHAM 1 – 5 BRADFORD