Chapter 2

The office at Manchester City's headquarters was far from what Jack had imagined. It was sterile, dated, and looked nothing like the high-tech, polished environment he'd always associated with the club. Instead of the bustling hub of a successful footballing giant, it felt like the home of a club on the brink of collapse—empty, lifeless, and weighed down by years of neglect.

Jack sat in front of the desk, his fingers drumming against the wood, trying to digest the magnitude of the situation. The holographic screen was still in front of him, pulsing with its eerie blue light. It was silent now, waiting for him to make the next move.

"You know," Jack muttered to himself, "I've never managed anything in my life. What do I know about running a football club?"

The System seemed to pick up on his frustration. A new notification flashed on the screen:

[New Objective: Visit Club Headquarters]

[Reward: 1 Five-Star Staff Member (Position: Coach)]

Jack sighed, rubbing his temples. He had no choice but to follow through. He clicked the "Accept" button.

A moment later, the front door of the office opened with a soft click. Standing in the doorway was a tall man with short-cropped dark hair, wearing a black suit. He had an air of authority, but there was something about him that seemed almost too polished—like a man who'd been living in the shadows of success for far too long.

"Mr. Mercer, I presume?" The man's voice was smooth, controlled, but there was an edge to it. "I'm Nathaniel Clarke. I'll be your personal liaison from now on. The System has indicated that you're in need of guidance, so I'll assist in whatever capacity is required."

Jack stood up, his hand instinctively shaking Clarke's. "Nice to meet you," he muttered. "Guidance? I'm just… trying not to get fired before my first match."

Clarke chuckled lightly. "You're not going anywhere, Mr. Mercer. Not yet, at least. However, the System's rewards have begun to take effect. Shall we get started?"

Jack followed Clarke through the winding corridors of the headquarters, his mind racing. It was overwhelming. Just days ago, he was an analyst. Now, he was the owner and manager of a football club on the verge of ruin. But the system seemed to have something in store for him—an opportunity, maybe. He didn't trust it, not entirely, but he couldn't afford to ignore it.

Finally, they reached a small office tucked away in the back of the building. It was modest, with simple furniture and a large window overlooking the empty training fields outside.

"Here we are," Clarke said. "This is where you'll be making decisions on the club's staffing. You'll find that there are only a few viable candidates for key positions. The System has granted you one Five-Star staff member. A coach, to help you get started."

The screen flickered to life again, and Jack saw a profile of a man on it: Antonio Garcia—Five-Star Coach, with a background in tactical analysis, coaching various lower-league teams. The System had done something right, for once.

Jack took a deep breath. This was his first real decision as manager of Manchester City, and it was a significant one.

"What's his background?" Jack asked, trying to hide his growing sense of hope.

"Antonio Garcia is a tactician, focusing on developing young players and refining the team's overall strategy," Clarke replied. "His tactical insight has been praised, and he's managed clubs with limited resources. He's a perfect fit for what you're dealing with."

Jack nodded slowly, considering the options. Despite his skepticism about the System's motives, it seemed like Garcia was exactly the kind of person he needed to help him pull City out of the mess they were in.

He tapped the screen, confirming his decision.

[Staff Member Added: Antonio Garcia, Five-Star Coach]

"Well done, Mr. Mercer," Clarke said. "Now, we move on to the next step. I'd recommend focusing on your upcoming match. You have only three days left, and the club's current financial situation means you'll have to make do with what you have—at least for now."

Jack frowned. "So, I'm stuck with the squad?"

"For now, yes," Clarke answered. "However, as your reputation improves and the club's performance stabilizes, you will gain access to more funds and resources. In the meantime, you'll need to make tactical adjustments that suit your current squad."

Jack glanced back at the screen, where the team's roster was displayed. The players were a mishmash of underperformers, overpaid stars who had long passed their prime, and unproven youngsters. The squad was a far cry from the City he had once known.

"Great," Jack muttered. "I get a one-star squad, a coach, and a deadline."

Clarke smiled. "You'll find that this challenge isn't as daunting as it seems. You've already started with a solid foundation—Antonio Garcia is a tactical mind. He'll help you shape the team, and the squad will improve over time."

Jack looked at the man, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "I hope you're right," he said quietly. "I'm going to need all the help I can get."

Clarke gave him a reassuring look. "That's the spirit. Now, go ahead and make your plans. The next three days will set the tone for the season."

As Jack made his way back to the office, he felt a slight sense of relief. Antonio Garcia could help him get through the first match, but it was still going to be a challenge. The club was in shambles, and he needed to make critical decisions quickly. There was no room for mistakes—not if he wanted to avoid getting fired and potentially ruining his future.

The financial reality of the club was harsh. There were no lavish signings in his future. Every penny would need to be spent wisely, and even the smallest decision could make or break his career. He could feel the pressure mounting already.

He sat back at his desk and opened the team's financial records. The numbers were grim. The squad was overpaid, with bloated contracts and little room to maneuver.

Still, Jack knew what he had to do. He couldn't let the team flounder under the weight of mismanagement and poor planning. It was time to find a way to make Manchester City proud once again.

The next few days would be a whirlwind of preparation, decisions, and tactics. Jack didn't know exactly what lay ahead, but he did know one thing for sure: failure wasn't an option. Not just for the club, but for him.

With the lifetime debt hanging over him, the stakes were higher than ever. Jack's challenge was no longer just about rebuilding a fallen club—it was about saving his own future. With everything on the line, he had to succeed.

The future of Manchester City rested in his hands. And in three days, Jack would have to step onto the pitch for his first match.

Failure was not an option.

As Jack sat at his desk, staring at the screen, he couldn't shake the feeling that time was slipping through his fingers. The match was fast approaching, and he still had so much to do. Antonio Garcia, his one five-star coach, was a blessing, but Jack knew it wouldn't be enough to turn this ship around in three days. He needed to meet the squad, assess the coaching staff, and get a sense of the club's facilities—all while figuring out a tactical approach that wouldn't end in disaster.

With a deep sigh, Jack stood up and headed out of the office. Clarke had mentioned that the squad was available for him to meet, so that was his next step. He needed to understand who he was working with, their strengths, their weaknesses, and how he could make the most of the players at his disposal.

The locker room was eerily quiet as Jack stepped inside. The players were lounging around, some on their phones, others reading magazines or stretching. It didn't feel like the high-energy environment he had imagined when he'd thought of managing a top-tier club.

The atmosphere was heavy with a sense of disillusionment. This was a club in crisis, and Jack could feel it the moment he walked through the door. The players didn't look defeated, but there was no spark either. They looked like a team who knew they were underperforming, yet had no idea how to change it.

One player, a tall center-back with a shaved head, looked up first. His eyes narrowed when he saw Jack, sizing him up.

"You the new manager?" he asked, his tone flat.

Jack nodded. "Jack Mercer. And yes, I guess you could say I'm the new manager… for better or worse."

The center-back stood up, offering a firm handshake. "Charlie Matthews," he said with a wry smile. "Welcome to the circus. Hope you've got a good plan, because we need one."

Jack couldn't help but chuckle. "I wish I had one figured out already."

Matthews gave a knowing smile and stepped aside to let Jack into the room. Several other players turned to look at him, some with curious expressions, others with mild indifference.

Jack gave them a quick scan. The squad was made up of a mix of players who looked like they were in their early twenties and some who had clearly been around for a while. A few had the rugged looks of seasoned professionals—players who had seen better days but were still hanging on. Jack couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility weighing on him. He needed to make these guys believe again.

"Alright, everyone, gather round," Jack said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "I'm Jack Mercer, and yes, I'm your new manager. I know it's not an ideal situation, but we're going to make the best of it. I need to know what we're working with, so I want each of you to introduce yourselves and tell me your position."

One by one, the players gave their names, positions, and a brief summary of their career. There were a few standouts: a young, quick winger named Liam Patel, a solid goalkeeper in his thirties named Greg Barnes, and a veteran midfielder named Alex Pierce, who had spent most of his career bouncing between League One and League Two.

But what struck Jack the most was the uncertainty in their eyes. They weren't full of fire. They weren't excited about a new challenge. No, this was a squad that had grown tired of losing, tired of the cycle of failure, and tired of the uncertainty.

Jack cleared his throat. "Look, I know we've been through a lot. This club has been through a lot. But we're not going to sit here and wallow in it. We're going to get better. Starting now. I'm not promising miracles, but I'm promising that I will give everything I have to this club. And I expect you to do the same."

There was a moment of silence before Matthews nodded. "Fair enough. We'll follow your lead, boss."

Jack smiled. It wasn't much, but it was a start. At least they were willing to listen.

Next, it was time to meet Antonio Garcia, the coach the System had assigned to him. Jack had heard good things about Garcia's tactical mind, but he still wasn't sure how it would all come together. They needed a game plan for their first match, and Jack didn't have much time to figure it out.

Garcia was waiting in a small office near the training ground. When Jack entered, the coach stood up and shook his hand firmly.

"Mr. Mercer, it's an honor to work with you," Garcia said, his accent heavy but clear. "I know this isn't an easy situation, but I believe we can turn it around. We'll need time, of course, but we'll start with small steps."

Jack took a seat opposite Garcia. "I'm counting on you to help me make the most of what we've got. We've got three days until our first match, and I'm honestly not sure what we're walking into. I need to figure out what we can do with this squad, and fast."

Garcia nodded, leaning forward. "I've already been reviewing the team's recent performances. We need to focus on defense. Our attacking options are limited, but we can shore up the backline and play to our strengths. A solid defense will give us a platform to build from. I suggest we start with a 4-4-2, but we can be flexible."

Jack ran his hands through his hair, feeling the pressure mounting. "I don't know if I'll be able to turn this around with just a defensive approach. We need to make something happen up front. What about a more attacking setup?"

Garcia raised an eyebrow. "An attacking setup requires balance. Right now, I think we're better off focusing on stability, getting through the first few matches without conceding too many goals. We'll build from there."

Jack paused, mulling over Garcia's words. As much as he hated to admit it, the coach had a point. The squad was far from perfect, and throwing them into an attacking formation without the necessary foundations could backfire.

"Alright," Jack said, finally. "We'll go with your plan. For now."

The days leading up to the match felt like an endless whirlwind of decisions, assessments, and questions Jack couldn't quite answer. When he wasn't meeting with his staff or dealing with club logistics, he was out on the training pitch, trying to figure out what he had in front of him. The squad might have been large, but the quality was… questionable at best. A few players stood out, but most were simply average for League Two standards, with a handful looking like they might not even belong at that level.

The training ground, a far cry from the state-of-the-art facilities Jack had imagined when he thought about football clubs, was worn down and underfunded. The grass on the pitch was patchy in places, and the goalposts seemed to creak with every shot. A few old banners with the club's fading logo hung along the walls of the small stands. It was a stark reminder of how far the club had fallen. The facilities reflected the state of the club—lost, struggling, and desperately trying to hold on to what little pride it had left.

Jack stood at the edge of the pitch on the first day, watching as Antonio Garcia, his one five-star coach, barked orders at the players. The training session was a basic one—focused on fitness, basic drills, and keeping the squad sharp. Jack could see the focus in Garcia's eyes, but the players seemed disengaged. There wasn't the usual fire you would expect from a squad gearing up for a match in just three days. Jack knew that part of the problem was mental—it wasn't just a lack of skill, but a lack of belief. And that was something he couldn't fix in a couple of days.

Garcia was working with the defenders, drilling them on positioning and communication. The session was intense, but Jack could see the gaps—the sloppiness in positioning, the lack of cohesion between the center-backs, and the reluctance to commit fully to the defensive drills. Jack had always been an analyst, so it was hard not to notice the flaws right away.

He turned to Garcia, who had noticed Jack's lingering presence and walked over, wiping his brow with a towel. "What do you think of the session?" Garcia asked.

"I think we need more focus on the basics," Jack replied, shaking his head slightly. "The defenders—there's no clear communication between them. And the midfielders aren't tracking back fast enough. It's almost like they're expecting the attackers to bail them out. We need a foundation. I know it's just training, but they need to understand how to cover for each other."

Garcia nodded, taking Jack's words in stride. "Agreed. We have to take things step by step. The confidence isn't there, but that comes with solid structure. We'll keep working on it, but this isn't going to change overnight. We need to make sure the team trusts each other again. It's not just about the system; it's about rebuilding the mindset."

Jack rubbed his temples. "I know, but the match is in three days. I don't have the luxury of waiting for them to gel. We need to at least look organized, even if we're not perfect."

Garcia gave him a reassuring smile. "We'll make the most of the time we have. I'll focus on getting them more in sync. You focus on the tactical adjustments you want to make for the game. We have a plan, even if it's a temporary one."

The following day, Jack was at the training ground early, watching as the squad warmed up. The air was cold, but the sun was bright, casting long shadows over the field. Jack watched as his players stretched and jogged in small groups, preparing for another session.

He knew he had to do something more. Fitness wasn't the issue; the problem was much deeper than that. There was no energy, no belief that they could be more than what they had become: a mid-to-lower table League Two side fighting relegation year after year. Jack's mind was racing, trying to think of a way to ignite that spark in the squad.

He walked over to where Garcia was leading the defensive group through a set of exercises. The defenders were practicing closing down space, tracking runners, and clearing balls under pressure. Jack watched carefully, noting how hesitant some of them were. There were a few solid players, but none of them seemed capable of stepping up and taking charge. No one was grabbing the game by the scruff of the neck.

"Antonio," Jack called, motioning for him to come over.

The coach approached with a slight jog. "Yes, boss?"

"I think we need to focus on instilling some confidence here. Maybe we could try some small-sided games? Create more intensity, put them under pressure with tight spaces—get them thinking and reacting faster."

Garcia raised an eyebrow. "You want to take the session into a more competitive setting? That's an interesting approach. It could force them to adapt quickly, but we'll need to keep an eye on their discipline."

Jack nodded. "We're not going to fix everything, but we have to make sure they understand the urgency. It's about getting them used to making decisions under pressure."

Garcia thought for a moment before giving a curt nod. "Alright, we'll switch things up. Small-sided games, high intensity. I'll keep an eye on discipline, but I think it could work.

The day after that, Jack stood at the edge of the pitch, watching a small-sided game in progress. The players, divided into two teams, looked more engaged than they had in previous days. The pressure of a smaller space seemed to push them into making quicker decisions. Jack knew this wouldn't fix everything, but it was a start.

He watched as Liam Patel, a young winger with pace to burn, made a series of runs down the left flank. Jack could see the potential—raw and unpolished, but it was there. He made a mental note to work with him after training.

As the session continued, Jack turned to Antonio. "What do you think? Better, right?"

Antonio nodded. "It's getting there. Small-sided games like this build intensity. We just have to keep pushing them to make quicker decisions."

Jack agreed. "We can't afford to waste time. We need results."

As the days passed, Jack continued to refine his approach. With Antonio Garcia's help, they worked on defensive structure, building from the back and ensuring that the midfielders tracked back quickly. The small-sided games were a regular part of the training now, pushing the players to think under pressure and increasing their intensity.

Jack also worked closely with the squad's lone creative player, Alex Pierce, a veteran midfielder who still had a good eye for a pass. Jack knew that Pierce could be the key to unlocking their attacking potential, but he needed to find the right system to make the most of him.

The last day before the match was a tactical walkthrough, where Jack and Garcia laid out the game plan for the squad. They would play with a solid 4-4-2 formation, focusing on compact defending, pressing high when possible, and using their wingers to stretch the opposition. Jack knew that they weren't going to dominate possession, but if they could keep it tight and capitalize on any chances, they might just pull off a result.

The night before the match, Jack sat alone in his office, reviewing the team sheets and going over the tactics once more. He knew he was walking a fine line. One slip-up could send him into the abyss of failure—and he couldn't afford that. Not with the lifetime debt hanging over his head. Not with everything on the line.

He looked up at the clock—just a few hours left until he had to face the music.

Tomorrow would be the true test of his managerial abilities.

He just hoped it was enough.