Wait... the system can lower my rating?
As Winston walked through the hallway of the training facility, he summoned the Core system and scrolled through his stats. Sure enough, his overall rating had dropped. He slowed to a stop and glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention. Finding the hallway empty, he leaned against the wall outside the medic's room and continued examining the changes to his status.
[Winston Daley Stats]
Name: Daley Winston
Age: 19
Weak Foot: 2
Foot: Right
Profession: Footballer
Team: Westminster F.C. (U21 team)
Player Rating: 71 -5
Position: Center forward.
Potential: 82 -5
[User skills improved]
Shooting: 71 +1
Passing: 56 +1
Reward points: 00
Skills moves: None.
Skill Shop.
Advance
Failing to complete these daily challenges carries serious consequences. Not only does my rating drop, but my potential decreases as well. That changes everything.
Winston continued scanning the Core system. Some of my attributes have improved... only slightly. His eyes settled on two of them.
Passing... Shooting...
Maybe I can use points to improve them even further. Hmm... I definitely can't afford to fail the next daily challenge.
Shoosh!
The sudden sound of a door sliding open startled Winston. He straightened immediately. A tall, lean man in his mid-thirties, dressed in the club's tracksuit, stepped out and looked at him with mild surprise.
"Come on in."
Winston followed him into the examination room.
"How are you feeling?" the medic asked.
"I feel great, Doc."
"I'm glad to hear that. Did the hospital prescribe any medication after you were discharged?"
"No."
The medic nodded before handing Winston a small specimen cup.
"We'll need a urine sample to screen for any medications or prohibited substances. The coach was a little concerned because you were in the restroom longer than expected."
Winston forced a small smile. I guess I was in there longer than I realized. There was no way he could explain that he had been studying a mysterious system only he could see.
"If we find anything unusual," the medic continued, "we'll determine whether it's medication-related or if further tests are necessary."
After providing the sample, Winston sat on one of the plastic chairs while the medical staff recorded notes and reviewed his file. The silence in the room made him restless. His left leg bounced uncontrollably against the floor.
A few minutes later, another medic escorted him into a different room. Electrodes were attached to his chest before he stepped onto a treadmill. As the speed gradually increased, the staff closely monitored his heart rate, breathing, and other vital signs.
Once the treadmill test was complete, Winston was directed to an oxygen chamber, where he spent the next few hours breathing oxygen under close supervision. Afterward, the staff woke him and led him to the recovery pool.
"Mr. Daley, how do your lungs feel right now?" one of the medics asked.
"They're fine... just a little heavy."
"That's normal. Do you feel dizzy?"
"Now that you mention it, I did when I came out of the oxygen chamber."
"That's expected," the medic explained. "The recovery pool helps your body adjust after oxygen therapy and promotes circulation."
"Any other symptoms?"
"No."
"Excellent. When the timer goes off, head back to the office where you had your first examination. The head medic will go over your results." The medic stood, clipboard in hand, before walking away.
Westminster doesn't joke around when it comes to its players' health. Looking around the recovery pool, Winston realized he wasn't alone. Several youth players were already there, chatting comfortably with one another. Judging by the way they laughed, teased each other, and exchanged jokes, many of them had known each other long before joining the club.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Time to get out.
As Winston approached the head medic's office, he overheard muffled voices inside. He couldn't make out what they were saying before the conversation suddenly stopped.
Shoosh!
"Come in, Mr. Daley. We've been expecting you." Winston stepped inside. Sitting on a plastic chair, flipping through a stack of papers, was a familiar face.
The head striker coach. "Oh... Coach."
"Mmm."
"Please, have a seat," the head medic said. "Your vital signs are normal, and overall you're in good condition. We also didn't find any prohibited substances or medication in your system that would raise concerns with the federation."
Before the medic could continue, the striker coach cut him off.
"But your numbers are terrible, boy." His blunt tone made Winston sit up straighter. "I'm comparing your latest results to the ones from before your injury. What happened?"
The head medic quickly interjected. "Mr. Daley has only recently returned after several weeks of recovery. His body is still adjusting, so comparing the two sets of results isn't entirely fair."
The striker coach snorted. "Rubbish."
He tossed the papers onto the desk and leaned forward. "Maximilian looked twice the player you did out there today. Frankly, I'm surprised you even earned minutes with the senior squad."
Winston slowly clenched his fists beneath the table. The words stung-but deep down, he knew the coach wasn't entirely wrong. Watching Maximilian train earlier had shown Winston just how far behind he still was.
"We don't need a striker who'll hold this team back," the striker coach continued. "We need someone capable of leading us to the Under-21 Champions League."
Those final words struck Winston harder than anything else. His chest tightened. He lowered his head, swallowing the frustration building inside him.
I'll become the best striker on this team. No... I'll become the best player in the entire Under-21 league.
When Winston left the medical building, he spotted a familiar figure standing outside with a kit bag slung over one shoulder. "You took so long I thought they weren't going to let you out," Oswin joked.
Winston chuckled. "You know how they are. They never rush anything."
Stretching his arms, Winston squinted as the afternoon sun hit his face. He raised a hand to shield his eyes."Why are you still here? I thought everyone had already gone home."
"Nah." Oswin shrugged. "I wanted a little more exercise... and a bit of sunshine. Gotta keep this body in shape—for me and for the ladies."
He struck an exaggerated bodybuilder pose. Winston couldn't help laughing.
"C'mon," Oswin said. "I know a bakery around the corner. Best pies you'll ever eat."
As they walked, Winston finally asked the question that had been on his mind. "How did you know I play as a striker?"
"Oh, that?" Oswin scratched the back of his head. "I got lost trying to find the coach's office. While I was there, I noticed the squad roster pinned to the wall. Your name was on it... along with your rival's."
A few minutes later, Oswin pushed open the door to a small bakery near the training ground. The shop was quiet, with only a handful of customers inside.
"Ayooo! We're starving! Anyone working today?" Oswin shouted as he lightly knocked on the glass display filled with meat pies, fruit pies, and pastries.
"Sorry! I'm coming!" A young dark-skinned woman emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron. She had an elegant hourglass figure and a warm smile. For a brief moment, Winston forgot where he was.
Then she noticed Oswin. "Oh... it's you." She folded her arms. "I hope you're actually going to pay on time today."
Oswin grinned. "Winston Daley, meet Busisiwe Bowen. Busisiwe, this is Winston."
Without missing a beat, Oswin turned toward the display. "I'll have two classic meat pies and a slice of apple pie. Training made me hungry."
He looked over at Winston. "What about you?"
But Winston and Busisiwe were still looking at each other.
"Winston Daley," Winston said.
"Busisiwe Bowen," Busisiwe replied with a smile.
She glanced toward Oswin. "Don't mind him. When he's hungry, his stomach talks more than he does."
Turning back to Winston, she asked, "What can I get you?"
Snapping out of his daze, Winston cleared his throat. "One classic meat pie, please."
"And something to drink?"
"Any soft drink is fine."
Oswin laughed. "So you're not even going to ask what I want to drink?"
Busisiwe rolled her eyes. "Let me guess... a Coke Zero."
"Bingo."
After they finished eating, Oswin continued chatting away while Winston occasionally found himself glancing toward the counter. Busisiwe was busy serving another customer. Oswin nudged him with his elbow.
"You know... you've been staring at her for a while."
"Huh?"
"Go ask for her number."
Winston blinked. "Isn't she your girlfriend?"
Oswin burst into laughter. "No way. We went to high school together,"
He lowered his voice with a grin. "I'm talking to another girl online. She's gorgeous."
Winston chuckled and shook his head, "Maybe another time. Right now, I want to focus on football."
Oswin smiled. "Fair enough. Let's get going."