Tomás focused on the Upgradeable button.
A familiar electronic voice sounded.
[Ding! Congratulations! Your Lion Heart trait level has increased to LV1. You have gained the trait effect: Overflowing Adrenaline.]
Overflowing Adrenaline: The greater the pressure, the fiercer the rush of adrenaline pumping through your system.
Expect unexpected effects, running faster or jumping higher than usual.
The higher the trait level, the stronger the effect.
Leveling it up can also unlock new trait effects.
Tomás studied the trait.
It suited him perfectly.
He got nervous easily, and the nerves usually made him fall apart.
Up until now, that had been his single biggest weakness.
The academy coaches often criticized his competitive mentality.
He had wanted to change, but he never could.
In real matches, his legs felt heavy.
He tired out faster, misplaced simple passes, and knocked basic touches out of bounds.
After every match, he would drop his head, avoiding his teammates’ eyes.
He wanted to be like Rashford.
Out on the pitch, Rashford ran faster and jumped higher.
Against tougher opponents, he only got better.
With Lion Heart, his own tendency to panic was now an advantage.
The trait was a pure buff.
If I get more nervous than everyone else, does that mean I end up faster, higher, stronger than them once the whistle blows?
Could Marcus have some kind of Manchester United’s DNA System of his own?
Rashford had joined the academy at six years old.
He was as much a part of Manchester United’s blood as anyone.
Maybe that was why his missions rewarded Lion Heart experience in the first place.
And if he had been carrying his own version of this for ten years, it was probably leveled up sky high.
Tomás looked at Rashford.
Marcus Rashford, a gifted and talented player, your best friend, currently at 90% affinity.
You can view all his information.
“Tomás, why are you staring at me instead of watching the game?”
“No, it’s nothing.”
Tomás looked away and quietly opened Rashford’s attribute panel.
[Name: Marcus Rashford ]
[Occupation: Player]
[Age: 16 ]
[Title: Prodigy Rising Star ]
[Trait: Second Wind LV5 ]
[Special Skills: Exceptionally Gifted (Gold) Rapid Dribbling (Copper) Technical Dribbling (Copper) … Accurate Pass (Bronze) Volley Shot (Bronze) Rocket Acceleration (Bronze) … Lob Shot (Copper) Powerful Shot (Bronze) Dead Ball (Bronze)]
[Attributes: Passing: 70 Ball Control: 75 Shots: 73 Dead Ball: 75 Heading: 65 Defense: 50 Speed: 85 Endurance: 75 Strength: 66 Jump: 80 ]
[Overall Score: 71 ]
[Evaluation: A gifted young prodigy. ]
[Recommended position: Winger.]
Tomás’s jaw dropped.
His eyes went wide.
His expression went out live, broadcast around the world.
“This is utterly astonishing!”
“Suárez draws a handball from Rafael, cutting inside from the left edge of the box! Penalty! Liverpool have a penalty at Old Trafford!”
The commentator’s shout matched the look on Tomás’s face perfectly.
Except that wasn’t quite it.
“Ha, the commentator still has no idea who this kid is…”
The online comments section was losing it.
United were trailing, and the commentator was squirming.
Tomás wasn’t stunned about the penalty.
It was Rashford’s stats.
He hadn’t even left the academy yet, and he already had a 71 overall rating.
He’s younger than me, and my overall rating is only 48.
Tomás had never met Ronaldo, Messi, or Cristiano Ronaldo back when they were sixteen.
But he had met sixteen-year-old Rashford.
He had to wonder if at sixteen, Ronaldo, Messi, and Cristiano Ronaldo had all looked something like this too.
Those special skills and attributes were absurdly strong.
Tomás didn’t have a single special skill.
He was a blank slate.
Rashford’s skills were numerous and high quality, including a gold-tier one.
Exceptionally Gifted (Gold)
Gold, copper…
there had to be a silver tier too.
Rashford didn’t have a Silver skill yet, but the tier existed.
Tomás had zero special skills, let alone any idea how long it would take to level one to gold.
He didn’t know exactly how special skills would boost him, but it had to be good.
I wonder when I’ll get my first special skill.
Tomás glanced sideways at Rashford again.
Down on the pitch, Gerrard buried the penalty.
Liverpool went 1-0 up away from home.
Manchester United stared down yet another home defeat to Liverpool.
Rashford scowled.
He watched the match.
Tomás watched Rashford.
This is the kind of talent even a club as big as United treats like royalty.
He has to be one of the most gifted players in the world, full stop.
Tomás sat up straighter.
The gap between him and Rashford was massive, but he could keep closing it, bit by bit.
“Marcus. One day, the two of us are going to stand together in the middle of this pitch.”
Rashford looked at him.
He paused, then broke into a grin.
“That’s the spirit, Tomás. Keep that confidence up. We’re going to be United legends, the both of us.”
Down below, Sir Alex Ferguson’s face soured at the scoreline, but the tension around his eyes eased slightly as he watched the two boys.
Memories of the Class of ’92 flickered past.
Manchester United’s future is promising.
Three years?
Five years?
Manchester United would rise again.
Ferguson’s expression hardened.
Manchester United lost 0-3 at home to their arch-rivals.
For the first time in club history, they conceded three penalties in a single home game.
Gerrard converted two of them.
Another shameful record.
The Manchester United die-hards chanted for David Moyes to be sacked.
Over by the away end, United and Liverpool fans hurled insults at each other.
Tomás looked over at the away stands and saw a large, sarcastic banner: David Moyes is a football genius.
“Moyes is a piece of crap! We lost at home to Liverpool, and now we’re seventh in the league, three points behind Everton!”
Rashford spat the words out, cursing Moyes the entire walk away from Old Trafford.
Tomás listened quietly.
He hadn’t watched the match closely, so the crushing defeat didn’t hit him as hard.
“Tomás, if Sir Alex were still in charge, I’d have made my first-team debut already this season. Might even be the youngest scorer in Premier League history by now, making a name for myself, going off at the World Cup like Owen or Walcott did!”
So that was why Rashford was so worked up.
In the past, he would have figured Rashford was just making an idle wish.
But now, the attribute panel kept flashing through his mind.
“I believe you, Marcus. You’re the greatest genius in the world.”
The quiet conviction in Tomás’s voice stopped Rashford mid-rant.
Rashford knew he had exaggerated just a little.
But Tomás believed it.
He believed in Rashford more than Rashford believed in himself.
“You are too good to me brother.” Rashford threw an arm around Tomás’s shoulder.
In the sunset, the two of them stood side by side, the old stadium at their backs.
“Marcus, I want to do extra training today.”
“Okay, I’m coming with you.”
“Thanks…”
“Don’t you dare say thanks,” Rashford cut him off.
“Tomás, let’s sing GGMU together!”
Singing in the street used to embarrass him.
The old Tomás never would have done it.
“Yeah.”
Outside Old Trafford, a crowd of furious United fans continued to curse.
Oblivious to all of it, the two kids sang Glory, Glory, Man United at the top of their lungs.
Nearby, a passenger in a passing luxury car rolled down the window.
He caught sight of the two small figures and smiled at the song.
“Shall we stop, sir?”
“No. Keep driving. There’s hope ahead.”
And the Reds go marching on, on, on.