Upon reaching the hotel, the head coach instructed Winston to rest in his room. He strictly prohibited him from training, fearing that Winston might injure himself again, and made sure he understood the order. When Winston entered his room, he was disappointed to see that Oswin wasn't there. He had hoped to catch up with him. After tossing his bag onto the bed, Winston walked over to the balcony.
The night was bitterly cold, but strangely, Winston barely felt the biting wind. He eventually stepped back inside and walked toward his bags. Then, without warning, a surge of energy rippled through his bones and blood. Winston began hyperventilating. His vision blurred, and his legs gave out beneath him.
He collapsed—Winston remained unconscious for the entire night. When he finally woke, he was bewildered, struggling to understand what had happened as he slowly pushed himself upright. He immediately checked the Core System. Nothing appeared to have changed. Disappointed, Winston remained seated on the floor for a while.
Eventually, he decided to go over his plans again. The head coach had instructed him to remain in his room, probably because he didn't want Winston risking another injury. After all, he had promised Winston an opportunity to fight for a place in the starting eleven.
Still, Winston wasn't entirely sure. The previous match had ended in a draw, and he had no idea what had happened to Maximilian. He wasn't even sure whether Maximilian had recovered from his injuries the same way he had. Once he finished going over everything in his head, Winston stood and prepared to walk into the bathroom.
The door opened, Oswin stepped inside and froze.
"Wis!" His eyes widened before he rushed toward Winston with a delighted expression. "Bro, you're here! And you're completely healed!"
"Yeah. I'm back, bro."
Oswin immediately grabbed Winston by the shoulders and looked him over from head to toe. He even patted him on the front and back, still unable to believe what he was seeing. Anyone would have been shocked after witnessing a friend suffer injuries that severe. Oswin finally released him and shook his head.
"Damn, it's good to see you, man. I thought you were a goner."
"I got a second chance." Winston smiled. "Anyway, what did I miss? And how was the first match?"
Oswin sighed and walked over to his bed. "It was horrible, bro. The goal I scored was basically a fluke. We're lucky the team in second place also drew, and the team behind us lost their match."
Winston thought for a moment before asking, "Isn't Maximilian here? I thought he'd already be back."
Winston didn't know that Maximilian's injuries had been far more severe than his own. The club had kept his condition hidden from the rest of the team, so nobody knew exactly what had happened to him. Oswin shook his head and continued packing his clothes.
"Why are you packing?" Winston asked.
Oswin stopped and stared at him. "Wait... the head coach didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"We have another match in a couple of days. We're traveling to the next city, and the match we just played was an away game too."
Winston immediately rushed over to his bag and began packing his belongings, neatly folding his clothes. He paused for a moment.
Is the head coach planning to put me in the starting eleven? He wondered if he could speak to the coach and ask for the opportunity himself.
"Yo, Wis," Oswin said. "Is the head coach planning to put you in the starting eleven? We really need our best forwards right now. The strikers we've been using are seriously lacking."
"I haven't talked to the head coach about it. He only told me to stay in this room."
"Maybe he's thinking about putting you in."
"I hope so, bro."
Once they finished packing, a club staff member entered the room and collected their bags. He instructed Oswin to head downstairs while telling Winston to report to a room at the end of the hallway. Winston entered the room and was surprised by the amount of medical equipment inside. The club staff quickly instructed him to remove his shirt and step onto a treadmill. Electrodes and wires were attached to his chest before the machine started.
Winston went through a series of physical tests while the club's medical personnel monitored his performance and recorded their findings. Every so often, they exchanged glances and nodded among themselves. When the examination was finally complete, they instructed Winston to wait downstairs.
Judging by the expressions on their faces, Winston was almost certain of one thing.
I'm going to be in the starting eleven.
The piercing stare Winston received as he stepped off the elevator on the ground floor made him feel uneasy. A moment later, he spotted Oswin approaching. The two sat on a long couch. Winston slouched back, his head tilted toward the ceiling as they waited for the head coach's decision.
Although Winston knew the drills had been performed to check his vitals, the club was still deeply concerned about his health. Truthfully, he had been badly injured and had spent two and a half weeks in a coma. Yet after waking up, he had miraculously recovered, bearing almost no evidence that he had ever been injured.
They waited for hours, finally, the familiar ding of the elevator sounded. Winston immediately stood, The head coach stepped out and gestured for everyone to gather around him.
"As you all know, we've got another match coming up in the next city. We'll be taking the team bus, so there won't be any unnecessary stops. We still have a few games left before the season concludes." He clapped his hands once. "The last game we played was good, but I need more from you. Once we arrive in the next city, we won't have much time to prepare for the upcoming match. So we'll go over the tactics on the bus during the journey."
The players nodded—after the head coach finished speaking, Winston cleared his throat. The coach turned toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Winston, your vitals look normal." He flipped through the pages on his clipboard before continuing. "Mmm... I'll put you in, but not in the starting eleven. You'll come on in the second half."
An immense wave of relief washed over Winston. I can breathe again.
At least he wouldn't miss another match. His plan was still viable. All he had to do was prove during the second half that he was fully recovered and ready for a starting position. And he needed more goals. Before leaving the hospital, Winston had checked the top-scorer leaderboard. He wasn't far behind the leaders. He had scored four goals so far, while the players at the top had five or six. No one had managed to pull away yet.
Considering the limited number of matches remaining in the season, Winston calculated that he would need to average two or three goals per game if he wanted to secure a prominent position on the top-scorer leaderboard. Another surge of energy suddenly rippled through his body. This time, a cold sensation spread through his lower abdomen.
Winston's breathing immediately quickened. He pressed a hand against his stomach and hurried toward the couch before collapsing onto it. He hunched forward, cradling his abdomen as he struggled to steady his breathing.
Outside the hotel, on a balcony overlooking the now-dilapidated stadium, the striker coach stood with a phone pressed against his ear.
"I understand, boss. We should act now." He listened for a moment. "Yes, I understand. I'll keep my eye on him. I'll give you an update once the season concludes." He paused. "Oh, that kid took about ten pills. I still don't know his current location. But the Federation was here conducting its investigation."
After ending the call, the striker coach pulled out his cigarette pack and placed a cigarette between his lips. He lit it and slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke. His eyes remained fixed on the ruined stadium below. Without blinking, he tried to reconstruct what had happened on the pitch before everything went blank. He remembered almost nothing.
When consciousness finally returned, both players had been found injured as though they had survived a war. And he still didn't know what had caused it.