CHAPTER 100: THE CUP

The words were a jolt of electricity.

The players looked at each other, and the fear in their eyes was replaced by a cold, hard anger.

Ethan, on the sideline, felt a surge of pride. He didn’t need to say anything.

His captain had said it all. He just pointed to his head, a clear, simple instruction to his players:

Stay smart. Stick to the plan.

The game restarted, and the battle truly began. Apex didn’t panic.

David Kerrigan, on his chaos mission, began to torment the Wednesday captain, a series of taunting, infuriating dribbles that were designed to get under his skin.

The game became a tense, tactical war of attrition.

Chances were few and far between, but the intensity was unbearable.

Then, in the 65th minute, disaster struck. Kenny McLean, the veteran heart of their midfield, stretched for an interception and went down, clutching the back of his thigh. He had pulled his hamstring.

The game stopped.

The Apex players gathered around their fallen comrade, their faces etched with concern. Ethan knew instantly it was a bad one. He called over to the bench. "Jacob! Get ready!"

As McLean was being helped off the pitch, a look of profound disappointment on his face, Jacob Sørensen, the young Danish midfielder, ran on to replace him. It was a huge blow.

They had lost their most experienced head in the heat of a semi-final battle.

But the setback only seemed to galvanize them. They were playing for Kenny now.

In the 81st minute, their moment came.

David Kerrigan, who had been a constant, buzzing nuisance, won a corner. Emre Demir jogged over to take it.

"A huge moment in this cup semi-final!" the commentator’s voice crackled with tension. "Apex United have been magnificent in their response to going down so early. Can they find the breakthrough?"

Emre whipped in a perfect, in-swinging corner, aimed directly at the near post, exactly as Liam’s report had advised.

And rising like a titan, out-muscling his marker, was the captain.

Grant Hanley. He met the ball with a header of such immense power and precision that it flew into the top corner like a rocket.

1-1!

The tiny away section erupted. The Apex bench exploded.

Hanley roared, a sound of pure, cathartic release, as his teammates mobbed him.

They were back in it.

The final ten minutes were a frantic, end-to-end battle. Both teams were searching for a winner.

The game was stretched, legs were tired, and mistakes were starting to creep in.

The game entered the 92nd minute. Stoppage time. A Sheffield Wednesday attacker picked up the ball and drove at the Apex defense.

He jinked past one challenge and bore down on the box.

James McCarthy, the S-Rank wonderkid, the hero of so many moments, saw the danger. He came across, his timing perfect, and launched himself into a textbook slide tackle. He won the ball cleanly, poking it away from the attacker’s feet. It was a perfect, goal-saving tackle.

But the attacker was clever.

He saw the tackle coming and went down, his legs trailing over McCarthy’s outstretched leg.

The referee, who was trailing the play, saw a desperate, last-ditch lunge in the penalty area. He blew his whistle and pointed to the spot.

Penalty.

The world seemed to stop.

The Apex players were on their knees, their faces a mask of pure, horrified disbelief.

The Wednesday players celebrated as if they had already scored.

Ethan just stood on the sideline, his hands on his head.

It was a cruel, unjust, and utterly heartbreaking decision.

Angus Gunn stood on his line, a lonely, defiant figure in a sea of roaring home fans.

The Wednesday captain placed the ball on the spot.

He took a deep breath, ran up, and smashed the ball into the bottom corner.

2-1.

The final whistle blew a moment later.

The dream was over.

The Sheffield Wednesday players and fans celebrated wildly, their passage to the final secured.

The Apex United players just collapsed to the turf, the emotional and physical exhaustion of the battle finally consuming them.

They had given everything.

They had been brave, they had been brilliant, and in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

Ethan walked onto the pitch, his heart a heavy, aching stone in his chest.

He went to each of his players, pulling them up, patting them on the back, his face a mask of quiet, profound pride.

As they walked towards the tunnel, the dejected Apex players went to applaud their small corner of traveling fans. They were expecting silence, maybe a few polite claps. Instead, the fans rose as one, a standing ovation of thunderous, defiant applause. They were singing their team’s name, a sound of pure, unconditional love and pride.

They hadn’t won the match. But they had won the hearts of their fans.

Ethan was the last to leave the pitch. As he reached the tunnel, a figure stepped out to meet him.

It was ’CatenaccioKing’, the Sheffield Wednesday manager.

He didn’t look triumphant. He looked impressed. He extended a hand.

"Your team has the heart of a lion, son," the legendary manager said, his voice a low, respectful rumble. "You almost had me. You have a very bright future."

Ethan shook his hand, a small, grateful smile on his face. "Thank you. Congratulations."

He walked down the tunnel, the roar of the crowd fading behind him, the sting of defeat a bitter taste in his mouth. He had lost.

The cup run was over. The prize money was gone.

And the wager against GridironGuru... that was gone too.

He pulled out his phone, a feeling of numb emptiness washing over him.

There was a new message from the unknown number.

He opened it, expecting a message of condolence, or perhaps of mockery.

It was neither.

Bad luck. The wager is void. But your performance didn’t go unnoticed.

A second message came through a moment later.

GridironGuru was watching. He’s impressed. He says your team has ’guts’. And he’s still looking for a game.

Ethan’s heart started to pound, a new, impossible hope surging through him.

He’s proposed a new wager.

A one-off exhibition match. Neutral server. Same stakes.

He doesn’t need a trophy on the line. He just wants to prove he can beat you.

He wants to know if you have the courage to accept.