CHAPTER 107: CARABAO CUP - FIRST ROUND

"I still don’t understand that last goal," Jonathan Rowe said, shaking his head in a state of happy confusion.

"The ball went through, like, three of our players, hit their keeper, and then just... went in? Was that even legal?"

"Who cares? It was hilarious," David Kerrigan chimed in, having been a spectator to the second-half madness. "The look on Guru’s face when my goal went in off Hanley’s backside... priceless. I’d trade my ’Composure’ trait for that any day."

Ethan walked into the center of the room, a calm, proud smile on his face.

The players looked up, their eyes clear, their spirits unbroken.

"That wasn’t a defeat," Ethan began, his voice ringing with a conviction that left no room for doubt. "That was a statement. He had every advantage. Better players, a bigger budget, and a trait that literally lets him cheat. And we took him to the absolute limit."

He looked around the room, at the tired, triumphant faces.

"Did any of that feel real to you at the end? Their last goal? The way their players were suddenly in the perfect position every single time?"

A few players shook their heads. They had all felt it. The strange, unnatural shift in the game’s final moments.

"He didn’t just predict the future," Ethan said, a slow, dangerous grin on his face.

"He pressed a button and wrote it. That’s how scared of us he was. He had to cheat to win. In my book, that makes us the real winners."

A low, appreciative murmur went through the room.

"But here’s the most important thing," Ethan continued, his tone shifting.

"That match? That wager? It was a high-stakes, soul-crushing, absolutely insane exhibition match. It meant nothing. It was a friendly. Our real season, our real story, is still waiting for us."

He brought up the league table on the main screen. Apex United was still proudly at the top. He then brought up the EFL Trophy bracket. They were still in the semi-final.

"We have a league to win," he declared, his voice filled with a new, powerful focus. "We have a real cup to conquer. Let Guru play his rigged games in his space palace. We’ve got a real world to conquer. Let this loss be the fuel that drives us for the rest of the season. Let’s go win something that actually matters."

He finished, and the room erupted, not in the wild celebration of their previous wins, but in a deep, determined roar of a team that had just found its true purpose.

He logged off, the weight of the wager lifting from his shoulders, replaced by a simple, clear-headed resolve. He sat up in the pod, feeling a profound sense of peace.

He went downstairs to find a scene of pure, domestic bliss.

His mom and dad were on the sofa, watching a cheesy old black-and-white movie, laughing at the terrible jokes.

Gaffer was asleep on his dad’s feet, letting out little sleepy yips. And sitting at the kitchen table, a laptop open in front of her but her attention on the film, was Sarah.

"Hey, you," she said, looking up as he entered. "Tough game?"

"We lost," he said, collapsing onto the sofa next to his mom. "But we won. It’s complicated."

"As long as you had fun," his mom said, patting his leg.

"Oh, it was fun," he said with a grin.

The four of them sat there, watching the movie, a comfortable, happy silence settling over them. It was the perfect antidote to the high-stakes, high-stress world of the game.

"So," Ethan said, turning to his sister during a commercial break.

"How was the first week at the new job? Are you saving the world one misunderstood youth player at a time?"

Sarah’s face lit up, a brilliant, passionate glow that he had rarely seen before. "It was... amazing, Ethan," she said, her voice filled with a genuine, infectious excitement. "It was the hardest week of my life, and the best. I met this one boy, a 16-year-old goalkeeper, who was dropped by a big academy because he wasn’t tall enough. He was completely broken, ready to give up on his dream."

She leaned forward, her eyes shining. "I spent three days on the phone. I called every semi-pro club in a fifty-mile radius. I used all my scary ’corporate lawyer’ skills to argue his case. And today... today, one of them offered him a trial."

She took a deep, happy breath.

"He cried, Ethan. The kid just sat there and cried with relief. And I... I actually helped someone. It felt... real."

Ethan just looked at her, a feeling of immense pride swelling in his chest. This was why he played. This was the prize money, the wager, the whole point of the game, right here, in this room.

It was the freedom for his sister to be a hero.

"That’s incredible, Sarah," he said, his voice a little thick. "You’re a natural."

"Well," she said with a grin. "I had a good coach."

The movie finished, and a comfortable, sleepy peace settled over the house.

Ethan went to bed, his heart full, his mind clear.

The loss to GridironGuru was a distant memory.

The next morning, his phone buzzed. It was a notification from the FCG app.

He opened it, a flicker of curiosity in his mind.

It was the draw for the Carabao Cup, the other, more prestigious domestic cup competition that included all the top teams. He had forgotten they were even in it.

He tapped on the notification, and the virtual bracket materialized on his screen. He saw the big names: Manchester United, Liverpool, Quantum FC.

He traced the line from his own Apex United crest to their first-round opponent.

His heart stopped.

It was a small, unassuming crest, a team from their own division

. A team whose manager he had recently had a very interesting "tactical debriefing" with over a pizza.

The screen glowed with a beautiful, terrible, and utterly perfect reality.

Carabao Cup - First Round: Apex United vs. Nova Athletic.

He stared at the screen, a slow, disbelieving, and absolutely delighted grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," he whispered to the empty room.