"Look—Maximilian is confused. See? All that hard work has finally paid off. Dumi really is a legend," Oswin said, flashing Winston a grin before giving him a low five.
Winston nodded, but his attention remained fixed on Maximilian. While marking him earlier, Winston had felt something unusual—a strange resistance whenever their bodies made contact. It hadn't felt normal.
There was definitely something different about him.
"He really is a legend," Winston said quietly. "But let's stay focused. You never know what he's planning. Be careful. He might try to injure one of us."
"Nah, I'm not worried," Oswin replied confidently. "He's going to lose this match."
The referee signaled for play to resume. Surprisingly, Maximilian didn't repeat his earlier approach. Instead of charging forward alone in search of another goal, he calmly passed the ball to a nearby teammate.
As Winston jogged past him, he glanced sideways. Maximilian was smiling, not just smiling—a wide, ear-to-ear grin stretched across his face.
Their eyes met, Maximilian chuckled softly. Winston narrowed his eyes before turning his attention back toward the ball.
What is he planning?
He and Oswin immediately pressed the youth midfielders, who exchanged quick passes between themselves. both Winston and Maximillian settled into the same formation they had used during their match against Arlesey Athletic F.C. Winston and Oswin took turns pressing and marking the midfielders, constantly switching responsibilities whenever the ball moved. The attacking midfielder stayed centrally, ready to pick up whichever player broke through the first line of pressure.
Behind them, the remaining Westminster players maintained a disciplined defensive line. For now, everything looked under control. But Winston couldn't shake the feeling that Maximilian was waiting for something.
And judging by that smile... He wasn't waiting for an opportunity, he was waiting for the right moment.
Ding!
[User Daily Challenge]
[Score: 01/04]
[Goal heading: 00/01]
[Cripple Maximilian]
Maximilian's teammates remained calm, patiently circulating the ball among themselves. They began working it down the right side of the field, drawing Winston and Oswin toward the flank. The two pressed together, boxing in the youth who had carried the ball toward the edge of the penalty area. With nowhere to go, he turned and passed it back to the goalkeeper.
Winston tapped Oswin on the shoulder. "Let's get back into position."
Oswin didn't reply. He simply nodded, and the two jogged back toward their positions. As Winston passed Maximilian, he noticed the striker casually strolling toward his own half, seemingly unconcerned with the flow of the game.
Then Maximilian raised a hand toward the goalkeeper. The goalkeeper understood immediately. He stepped forward and launched the ball directly toward Maximilian.
Maximilian chuckled when he noticed Winston and Oswin closing in, preparing to box him in.
Got you. The ball dropped toward him. Then, without warning, Maximilian leaped. He sprang over both Winston and Oswin, placing his hands on their shoulders for balance as he performed a backflip. Somehow, he kept the ball trapped neatly between his ankles throughout the entire motion.
For a moment, the entire stadium fell silent. No one had expected to see anything like it. Maximilian landed smoothly, still holding the ball between his ankles. He remained perfectly balanced for a brief moment before shifting the ball onto the sole of his foot.
Then he flicked it upward—in one fluid motion, Maximilian released his grip on Winston and Oswin, twisted his body, and struck the descending ball with tremendous force. The impact produced a sharp, almost violent crack that echoed across the stadium. The ball tore through the air, screaming past the Westminster players who were on Winston side on its way toward goal. Even the goalkeeper froze for a fraction of a second. The sheer speed of the shot had stunned everyone.
Thawck!
As Maximilian landed gently on the lush green field, everyone on and off the pitch stood frozen in disbelief. Even the striker coach was finally paying attention. Winston remained stunned. He wasn't only shocked by what Maximilian had just done. The moment Maximilian's hand had touched his shoulder, Winston had felt it again—a firm, strange resistance, similar to the sensation he had experienced during the simulation with the black silhouettes.
"Bro, did you see that?" Oswin asked, glancing at Winston. "What the hell was that? I didn't know Maximilian was that acrobatic."
"Me neither."
Maximilian chuckled over his shoulder as he walked away. "Let the game begin. You should've stayed in your room, loser."
He continued toward his teammates, who were still staring at him in disbelief. A few players even rubbed their eyes as if they couldn't believe what they had just witnessed.
Moments later, the crowd erupted. "Fuck! Now I wish I'd bet on this Maximilian kid!"
"I told you to bet on him! He's playing even better than he did in the Supreme League!"
Several spectators who had placed their money on Winston slumped in their seats, already regretting their decisions. Some looked as though their entire savings had disappeared. "I lost everything. Shit. My wife is going to kill me."
The scoreboard now read 2–1.
The head coach blew his whistle, calling for an interval. Winston jogged over and joined the team huddle.
"I like what I'm seeing," the head coach said. "The rest of you need to show the same determination as Winston and Maximilian. I'm happy the match has remained clean, so keep it that way. We still have several league matches ahead of us. Keep working hard." His gaze shifted between Winston and Maximilian. "Now catch your breath for a few minutes. Then we'll resume."
Winston stepped toward the concrete sink beside the changing building and pushed his head beneath the running faucet. Cold water poured over his hair and down his face as he tried to clear his thoughts. A gentle tap on his shoulder made him lift his head. He turned and found Annalise standing behind him.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "I saw the match."
"Yeah, I'm fine." Winston wiped the water from his face. "What do you think? Do I still have a chance of winning?"
Annalise studied his expression. Despite everything that had happened, Winston appeared remarkably calm. "I think you do. Especially if you can stay this calm."
Winston smiled. "You know what would make me feel even calmer?"
Before Annalise could respond, Winston gently placed a hand around her waist and pulled her closer. He gave her a brief kiss.
"Ahem... Hey!" The head coach's voice immediately cut through the moment.
Winston and Annalise separated—Winston rubbed the back of his head, his face reddening with embarrassment, before hurrying back toward his teammates.
Oswin was waiting for him with a wide grin. "Damn, Wis. You actually landed the receptionist girl? Respect." He slapped Winston on the shoulder. "Now let's focus on the match and make you look good in front of your girl."
When Winston returned to the pitch, something immediately felt wrong. A faint, solitary sine wave hummed somewhere in the back of his mind.
Everything changed—the entire stadium appeared to slow down. Winston passed the ball along his side of the field, but his movements felt strangely disconnected from the world around him. He darted across the pitch and glanced upward.
Shadowy silhouettes had begun appearing around him. For a moment, Winston wondered if he had somehow returned to the Plain Simulation.
A human smeared silhouette resembling Oswin appeared on the left side of the field, dribbling the ball in slow motion. Winston looked down at his own hand, As he moved his fingers, they seemed to leave flickering trails behind them.
The entire world had taken on a strange smearing effect mixed with afterimage He forced himself into a sprint. Suddenly, the brightness surrounding his peripheral vision intensified. The flickering stopped, Winston came to a halt and scanned the stadium. Everything was frozen, The spectators stood motionless. The players were statues, no one blinked—no one moved.
"Welcome to my domain." An echoing voice rang through the silent stadium.
Winston spun around—before he could ask who had spoken, a flickering figure appeared beside his left shoulder.
"I knew it. You took the pill too."
Winston turned sharply, the silhouette vanished. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the frozen stadium.
Then the voice echoed again. "Hahaha! I'm the best player in this club." A flickering silhouette appeared on his right. "It's just you and me now. Nobody else is here."
The figure stepped closer. "Don't be afraid. Get your mind in the game. We still have a match to finish."
The silhouette disappeared. Another appeared behind Winston. "Don't tell me you're giving up now."
A series of flickering silhouettes began appearing around him. One bumped his shoulder. Another walked past him. Another appeared directly in front of him. They gradually moved closer until all of them merged into a single figure. Maximilian stood before him with a sinister smirk.
He placed one foot on the ball. "Let's finish this, loser."
With a casual kick, Maximilian sent the ball rolling toward the center of the field. Winston's eyes narrowed, a translucent notification flashed before him.
[User Daily Challenge]
[Score: 01/04]
[Goal heading: 00/01]
[Cripple Maximilian]
[Cripple Maximilian]
[Cripple Maximilian]
[Cripple Maximilian]
[Cripple Maximilian]
[Cripple Maximilian]
[Cripple Maximilian]