Mission?

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"Alright, lads, next up is the quarterfinals," Victor said to everyone who sat in their respective spaces, staring eagerly at him. "The match is tomorrow, so we're not going to do any physical drills. I'll just play some footage of our opponents and discuss a bit of tactics."

Everyone groaned when they heard what Victor said—well, everyone except Jerry, who had a very hard time stopping himself from pumping his fists in the air.

Nobody liked 'discussing tactics.' It was the most boring thing about being a footballer. No teenager wanted to hear about inverted fullbacks or offside traps; they wanted to kick a ball around on a large patch of grass.

Naturally, Jerry, like the other players in the room, didn't like talking about tactics. But he'd gladly hear all about gegenpressing and disciplined formation shapes than risk stressing his body further.

Victor walked to the middle of the room, where a projector was turned toward a blank white screen. He fiddled with the projector for a bit before it projected an image onto the screen.

"Turn off the lights, boys," Victor said. A moment later, the lights were turned off, and the video being projected became much more pronounced. Victor played the video, and after two minutes, it stopped.

"What you've all seen right there is the buildup play of Jermaine Walter Academy." Victor walked to the edge of the room and dragged a small whiteboard slightly in front of the projector. There were a few magnetic pieces and marked scribblings placed on strategic locations on the whiteboard. It was obvious that Victor had made prior preparations.

"They play a 5-2-3 formation and like to build out from the back, so their defenders are on the ball a lot. They like to invite pressure into their half and then go on quick attacks. They have three quick and strong forwards as well as midfielders who are very good at passing through different ranges.

"Defensively, they play high-pressing football, looking to catch teams on turnovers and execute fast counterattacks."

"Now, the majority of you here can handle pressure on the ball, so I don't think their high pressing should be much of a problem. As for their buildup play, to counter that, we'll be playing 3-4-3 tomorrow. The three center-backs will remain deep to stop any unexpected attacks as well as control the pockets of space being left..."

Victor continued explaining things to the boys in the locker room. He called out some players who would start in unfamiliar positions and explained in detail what he expected from them. Although they didn't have time to practice most of what he said, he didn't demand too much from them, so barring any unexpected situations, there shouldn't be much of a hiccup.

After Victor finished talking, he left the locker room. As soon as he left, the previously quiet atmosphere disappeared. Everywhere became rowdy as everyone started talking to their friends.

When Victor left, Jerry stood up and walked toward Jordan with his arms outstretched as if he wanted to hug him.

"There he is, the best young left winger in the world. All those academy ballers ain't got shit compared to you," Jerry said with a smile as he approached Jordan. "And al—"

"I already told my mum you're coming back with me. You don't have to do all this," Jordan said with a small smile. He didn't let Jerry finish his statements and just cut him off midway.

"Oh..." Jerry rubbed the tip of his nose. "In that case, thank you."

"I shouldn't even be helping you. You took my starting spot," Jordan said. "Maybe it'll be best if you walk home."

"No, no!" Jerry pleaded. "I'll talk to Victor. I'll, um... Okay, there's nothing I can do, but you don't have to be so petty. You should be the bigger man."

"Relax, I'm just kidding," Jordan said. "You'll only walk home if you play too well."

After a bit more playful banter between the pair, Jordan's mum arrived and drove him home. After saying a heartfelt thank-you to Jordan's mum, Jerry walked into his house and slumped on his bed.

Victor told him he would be playing as a left ten in the 3-4-3 tomorrow. It wasn't entirely a new position, given that he'd basically been playing as a ten since he joined. He was basically just confined to the left side of the pitch now—which was a major problem for him.

Even when he played as a striker, he was given the freedom to roam, play one-two passes, and link up play. This was the first time he wouldn't be able to roam as much as he would have liked. The worst part was that he didn't have any sort of practice to help him get used to it. He was just supposed to show up on the day, magically accustomed to his new role.

"Fuck, Jeremiah," Jerry muttered under his breath. He didn't know why or how, but it was his dad's fault.

He was about to lay down and have a nap when he heard a bell chime. There was only one thing it could mean... The system!

[Ding!]

[Host has been given a new mission.]

[Ding! Mission download complete.]

[Mission: Host is playing in a new position today. Host should have the ability to adapt to new positions, so Host should achieve a minimum of 7.0 in the system rating.]

Jerry stared at the notifications for a few seconds.

"Uh-huh... I'm fucked," he muttered under his breath. "What's a system rating?"

[Ding!]

[System rating: The system will rate your match performance out of ten and give you a general report after every match Host plays. The system takes into account general stats like dribbles completed, expected goals, expected assists, accurate passes, etc.]

"Why didn't I get one two days ago?" Jerry asked after reading the information. If what he read was true, then it meant he basically had his own personal FotMob or something. That was pretty cool.

[Ding!]

[System only finished downloading mid-game, hence the system couldn't configure an accurate rating.]

"Oh..." Jerry nodded briefly after reading the system's explanation. He recalled the mission again and nodded as he fell asleep.

'It can't be too hard.'