Chapter 19: The Relief of Survival

The final whistle echoed through the stadium like a hymn of deliverance, signaling not just the end of the game but the end of Burton Albion's long and grueling struggle against relegation. Fans leapt to their feet, their cheers swelling into a cacophony of triumph. There was no need to check the league standings—everyone knew what this meant. Burton was safe.

In the stands, Martin clasped Liam's shoulder, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "We're staying up, mate. We actually did it."

Liam grinned, wiping away what might've been tears. "Victor Kane. That man's a bloody genius. He turned this whole season around."

Around them, supporters were embracing strangers, their shared joy dissolving all barriers. A group of younger fans had unfurled a hastily made banner that read, "In Kane We Trust," its letters scrawled in bold black paint. The sight drew laughter and cheers, cementing Victor's place as a hero in their eyes.

The players didn't hold back their celebrations either. On the pitch, Stephen Quinn hoisted Lucas Akins into the air as Jamie Allen sprinted over, nearly tackling them in a euphoric hug. David Templeton did a victory lap, high-fiving every fan within reach along the touchline.

In the dugout, even the normally reserved Victor Kane allowed himself a small smile. Rebecca Hill, standing near the sidelines, clapped her hands furiously, her face glowing with pride.

"You're a miracle worker, Kane," she said as he passed by.

Victor nodded slightly but didn't stop. There was still another match to play, but for now, he let his players soak in the moment. He knew how much this meant to them.

Over at The Yellow Lion Pub, the atmosphere was electric. Fans packed every corner of the room, pint glasses raised high in celebration. The television replayed the goals on a loop, each shot accompanied by a fresh round of cheers.

"I told you!" Martin shouted, slapping the table. "Four wins in a row. Four bloody wins! We're safe, lads. SAFE."

Gary, sitting across from him, smirked. "Alright, alright. You called it. But don't forget—this wasn't luck. This was Kane."

Liam leaned in, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "You reckon they'll give him Manager of the Year? They bloody should. Did you see how they played tonight? That Coil thing? Absolute class."

The group dissolved into laughter and toasts, their voices blending into the jubilant hum of the pub. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Burton fans could dream without fear.

The media had picked up on the celebrations almost immediately, with headlines flooding social media and sports news sites.

"Survival Secured: Burton Albion's Miracle Run Under Victor Kane."

The accompanying article praised Victor's tactical brilliance, singling out his use of the Sidewinder Drift and the newly introduced Coil Maneuver as revolutionary. However, it also noted the mystery surrounding Kane's methods. Critics speculated about his strategies, with some hinting at an almost supernatural ability to outthink his opponents.

One commentator on a live sports channel said, "Kane's tactics are like nothing we've seen before. It's like he's one step ahead of everyone—not just in planning, but during the game itself. I don't know what he's doing, but it's working."

Another pundit added, "The real test will be next season. Can he sustain this success, or are we seeing a flash in the pan?"

The debates raged on, but for Burton fans, there was no doubt. Victor Kane had saved their season, and nothing could dampen their spirits.

Back at the Pirelli Stadium, the celebrations spilled into the locker room. Players sang at the top of their lungs, their voices echoing against the tiled walls. A bottle of champagne—origin unknown—was popped open, and its contents sprayed liberally across the room.

Stephen Quinn stood on a bench, addressing the team with a grin. "Lads, I don't know about you, but I reckon this is the best bloody team I've ever played for. Cheers to all of you—and to the gaffer."

A roar of approval followed, with players clinking their plastic water bottles together in a makeshift toast. Even the usually stoic Kyle McFadzean cracked a smile, raising his bottle high.

Victor watched from the doorway, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Moments like these reminded him why he loved the game, even in a world that wasn't quite his own.

That evening, as the stadium emptied and the players went home, Victor sat alone in his office. The Snake Tactics Manual lay open on his desk, faintly pulsing with an otherworldly light. He flipped to the standings page, which had updated to reflect their current position.

"17th," Victor murmured, tracing the glowing text with his finger. "Four wins. One more match to go."

The manual offered no response, but Victor didn't need one. He closed the book and leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a rare moment of reflection. They were safe. Burton Albion would remain in League One next season. And while there was still work to be done, tonight, he allowed himself to simply… be.