Chapter 16: Out of the Abyss

The air was different at Pirelli Stadium. It wasn't the heavy, suffocating atmosphere of desperation that had loomed over the place for months. Burton Albion had clawed their way out of the League One relegation zone, three consecutive victories lifting them into safer waters. The team, the fans, and even the beleaguered staff had begun to feel something alien—something they hadn't dared embrace in far too long. Relief.

The league table was published that morning, and it was the talk of the town. Burton, previously stuck in 21st place, had now climbed to 17th. They were still in the bottom half, but for a club that had been staring down the barrel of relegation for weeks, it felt like a miracle.

In the club's administrative office, Arthur Wilkins, the financial officer, stared at the updated standings on his computer screen. For the first time in months, he allowed himself a smile. "Seventeenth," he muttered, shaking his head. "Not glamorous, but damn if it doesn't feel like we're walking on clouds."

Behind him, Rebecca Hill, the team coordinator, pumped her fist. "Three wins on the bounce! I swear Kane's a magician. First Fleetwood, then Rochdale—what's next? Championship glory?"

Wilkins chuckled. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Hill grinned but said nothing. Quiet optimism had taken root.

On the training pitch, the players were gearing up for their next session. The mood was light, with jokes and laughter echoing across the field. Stephen Quinn, ever the leader, stretched alongside Jamie Allen.

"Seventeenth, mate," Allen said with a grin. "Never thought I'd be this happy about it."

Quinn nodded. "You'd think we'd won the league with the way everyone's buzzing."

Nearby, Lucas Akins and David Templeton were teasing Kyle McFadzean, who had earned a yellow card in the Rochdale game for a clumsy tackle.

"Oi, McFadzean," Akins called out. "Next time, try kicking the ball, not the player."

Templeton chimed in. "Yeah, mate, you almost sent the poor lad flying into orbit."

McFadzean rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a smirk. "Maybe I'll aim for you lot next time."

The banter was a stark contrast to the tension that had gripped the team just weeks ago. The players weren't just surviving anymore—they were thriving.

At The Yellow Lion Pub, the fans were in high spirits. The place was packed, the walls vibrating with laughter and debate.

"Seventeenth, lads!" Martin, the grizzled Burton supporter, shouted from his usual spot near the dartboard. "We're bloody seventeenth!"

"You sound like we're lifting the trophy next week," Gary replied, grinning as he nursed his pint. "But yeah, feels good, doesn't it?"

Martin gestured toward the screen showing the league table. "Look at that gap! We're five points clear of relegation now. Five points! If we keep playing like this, we'll be safe by Christmas."

Liam, ever the optimist, leaned forward. "It's not just safety, though, is it? It's Kane. The man's got us playing proper football again. That Sidewinder Drift? Genius."

Gary shrugged. "Genius or witchcraft—whatever it is, it's working."

The pub erupted in laughter, the fans basking in the rare joy of a stress-free weekend.

The media had taken notice too. Burton Albion wasn't just another struggling League One club anymore—they were the story. Articles flooded online forums, local papers, and sports channels, dissecting Victor Kane's tactical brilliance.

One headline read: "The Snake Charmer: How Victor Kane Is Saving Burton Albion."

The accompanying article praised the innovative Sidewinder Drift, describing its serpentine movements as "a tactical ballet that confuses defenses and creates spaces where none existed." It speculated on Kane's unique approach, even hinting at rumors of a secretive "manual" that might be fueling his genius.

Another piece, less flattering, posed the question: "Can Kane's Tricks Last?" The writer argued that while Burton's recent success was commendable, Kane's unorthodox methods might struggle against more disciplined teams. The fan forums lit up with debates in response.

"Just wait until we smash another team," one fan replied. "They'll change their tune."

Victor Kane, meanwhile, remained impervious to the noise. For him, success was a fleeting moment between challenges. He stood on the training ground, the Snake Tactics Manual open in his hands. The glowing text confirmed what he already knew—Sidewinder Drift was evolving.

The recent matches had pushed the Team Synchronization Buff toward its limit, nearing its upgrade to 40%. But Victor knew the buff wasn't a substitute for preparation. The players needed to master the Drift's nuances before facing their next opponent.

Victor flipped to the skills section. The unlocked Coil Maneuver shone faintly, ready to be introduced. But it wasn't time yet. He needed to prepare his team, to engrain the skill into their instincts. Only then could he activate it with the hand signs during a match.

"Step by step," Victor murmured to himself. "We're not done yet."

Burton Albion's staff felt the weight of their newfound success. In the canteen, Rebecca Hill chatted with Tom Ellis, the club's head groundskeeper.

"Feels different, doesn't it?" Rebecca said, sipping her tea.

Ellis nodded. "Like the whole club's woken up. The players are smiling, the fans are singing—hell, even the grass looks greener."

Rebecca laughed. "Let's just hope Kane can keep it going. We're not out of the woods yet."

Ellis smiled faintly. "True. But for the first time in a while, it feels like we've got a map."

As evening fell, the streets around Pirelli Stadium buzzed with activity. Fans gathered in clusters, reliving the triumphs of the past three matches and speculating on what might come next.

"Think Kane's aiming for promotion?" one fan asked.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," another replied. "We're safe, and that's enough for now."

But deep down, hope had begun to replace despair. For Burton Albion, the horizon finally looked brighter.

Victor sat alone in his office, the manual resting on his desk. He wasn't celebrating—not yet. Success was fleeting, and the stakes would only grow higher. But for the first time since his arrival, he allowed himself a small moment of satisfaction.

They were out of the abyss. And they weren't going back.