The discovery of Viktor Kristensen lit a fire under Ethan. He couldn't just sit on this information. In the cutthroat world of football transfers, both real and virtual, hesitation was a death sentence.
A 16-year-old with four golden-starred attributes at a club famous for producing talent, valued at a mere £250,000? It wasn't a bargain; it was a glitch in the matrix, a pricing error he had to exploit before someone else did.
He didn't bother with the computer menu this time. He needed the full, immersive experience. He needed to be in the world.
Lying back in the pod, the familiar darkness enveloped him, followed by the seamless transition into his virtual office.
The view of the empty Apex stadium at night was serene, but he had no time to admire it. He strode to his desk, the polished mahogany cool beneath his fingertips, and navigated directly to the "Transfers" tab.
Viktor Kristensen's profile was still there, glowing with untapped potential. Ethan's heart hammered against his ribs. This was his first real move as a manager, his first attempt to shape the club in his own image. He bypassed the "Scout Player" option.
It was too slow, too cautious. He needed to be bold.
His finger hovered over the button that read [Initiate Transfer Negotiations]
. He took a deep breath, the kind a player takes before a penalty kick, and pressed it.
The world dissolved.
Not into darkness, but into a different kind of reality. The warm, personal space of his office vanished, replaced by the cool, impersonal ambiance of a high-end corporate meeting room.
The air smelled faintly of glass cleaner and expensive coffee.
He was sitting at one side of a long, frosted-glass table. The chair was a sleek, ergonomic leather design. Through a large window behind him, he could see a generic, bustling cityscape that was neither his hometown nor Denmark. It was a neutral ground. A deal room.
Across from him sat two figures. One was a man in his late forties, with sharp blue eyes, neatly styled blond hair, and an impeccably tailored gray suit. His posture was perfect, his expression calm and analytical.
An icon next to his head identified him as "Claus Jensen, Director of Football, FC Midtjylland."
He was the gatekeeper.
Beside him, looking impossibly young and utterly terrified, was Viktor Kristensen. He was a skinny kid with a mop of sandy-blond hair and wide, nervous eyes that darted around the room, avoiding eye contact with everyone. He was fiddling with the sleeve of his club tracksuit, a bundle of raw, untapped talent and palpable anxiety.
Claus Jensen smiled, a polite, professional smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Mr. Couch. A pleasure. I must admit, we were surprised to receive your inquiry. Apex United. A new project, I understand?"
Ethan's mind raced. He wasn't just a kid in his bedroom anymore. He was a manager, a negotiator, the representative of a new footballing dynasty. He had to act the part.
"Mr. Jensen," Ethan began, his voice coming out steadier than he expected.
"Thank you for meeting with us. Yes, we are a new project, but one with immense ambition. And we believe Viktor here," he said, nodding towards the nervous teenager, "is exactly the kind of player we want to build our future around."
Jensen steepled his fingers. "Viktor is a fine prospect. One of the best in our academy. Which brings me to the question: you haven't even sent a scout. This is a direct approach. It's… unorthodox."
"We believe in being decisive," Ethan countered smoothly. "Our analysis identified Viktor as a perfect fit for our system. Why waste time?"
Jensen gave a slight, appreciative nod.
"Very well. Let's not waste time, then. You've seen his valuation. Shall we start there?"
A holographic interface appeared on the table between them, displaying the transfer terms.
Player: Viktor Kristensen
Transfer Fee: £250,000
"We are prepared to meet the valuation," Ethan said, trying to keep his tone even, trying not to sound too eager.
Jensen chuckled softly. "Of course. But the valuation is just the beginning. There is a reason, Mr. Couch, that a player of Viktor's potential is available at such a… reasonable price."
"I'm listening," Ethan said, his guard up. Here came the catch.
"Viktor possesses a particular personality trait," Jensen explained, his gaze unwavering.
"Our psychological profiling is extensive. He has 'Low Big Match Importance'. In simpler terms, he can struggle under pressure. He might score a hat-trick against a lower-league team in a cup match, but in a final, he might disappear. It is a significant risk. Furthermore, our club's entire model is predicated on future success. We invest in youth, develop them, and sell them on. Any deal for Viktor must include a substantial sell-on clause."
The interface updated. A new line appeared:
Sell-On Clause Percentage.
"We would require a fifty percent sell-on clause," Jensen stated flatly. "5-0."
Ethan's mind reeled. Fifty percent. It was huge. It meant if he ever sold Viktor for £20 million, Midtjylland would get £10 million of it. But it also explained the low initial fee. They weren't selling a player; they were selling half a player, retaining a massive stake in his future.
This was his chance.
"Fifty percent is high," Ethan said, feigning concern.
"But I understand your model. However, the risk you mentioned… that works both ways. If he struggles under pressure, he may never reach a level where that sell-on clause is triggered. We would be taking on that development risk entirely."
He leaned forward, changing his approach. He turned his attention to the nervous kid across the table.
"Viktor," Ethan said, his voice softening.
"I'm not going to lie to you. My club is new. We're in the third tier of English football. It's a tough, physical league. But we have something no one else can offer you. We have a player, another generational talent just like you, named Emre Demir. He's a number 10. He sees passes no one else sees. But he needs a partner. He needs a striker who is fast enough and smart enough to run onto those passes. I didn't just see your stats, I saw a partnership. You and him, growing together, learning together, becoming the most dangerous duo in the world."
Viktor looked up, his nervous eyes meeting Ethan's for the first time. A flicker of interest, of hope, sparked within them.
Ethan turned back to Jensen.
"You want a sell-on clause because you believe in his potential. So do I. Let's be partners in that. You're worried about the risk, so am I. Let's share it. I'll agree to a high sell-on clause, but you have to work with me on the initial fee and the structure."
He made his counteroffer on the interface.
Transfer Fee: £300,000
Sell-On Clause: 40%
"I'm offering you more cash upfront than the valuation," Ethan explained. "But I'm taking a slightly larger piece of his future. Forty percent is still an enormous return for you. And at my club, playing every week alongside another world-class prospect, he will get the game time he needs to overcome his big-match jitters. We are the best possible place for him to develop and for your clause to become incredibly valuable."
Jensen was silent for a long time, his sharp eyes flicking between Ethan, the numbers on the table, and the young player beside him.
He saw a young, ambitious manager who wasn't just quoting stats but was selling a vision. He also saw that his own player, Viktor, was now looking at Ethan with an expression of pure, unadulterated hope.
"You drive a hard bargain for a new manager, Mr. Couch," Jensen said finally. A slow smile touched his lips.
"But your logic is sound. You are offering us a partnership."
He reached out a virtual hand across the table.
"We have a deal."
The interface flashed green.
[DEAL AGREED].
The transfer was done.
The meeting room dissolved, and Ethan was back in his office, his heart hammering in his chest. He had done it. He had signed his first player. He had his striker.
He felt a surge of triumph so powerful it almost made him laugh out loud.
He had a budget of £875,000. After the £300,000 fee, he'd be left with just over half a million. It was a huge gamble, but he knew, he knew it would pay off.
Just as he was basking in the glow of his victory, a priority notification flashed on his screen. It wasn't from his assistant or his board. It was a global news alert from within the Football Coaching Game universe.
[TRANSFER NEWS: Rival club 'Quantum FC', managed by user 'GridironGuru', has smashed the VMMORPG transfer record to complete the signing of 18-year-old Brazilian winger Savio from PSV for a fee believed to be in excess of £30 million.]
Ethan's blood ran cold. GridironGuru. The man who had given him this opportunity. He was a manager, too. And he wasn't shopping for bargains in Denmark. He was buying established, high-profile wonderkids for massive fees.
Ethan realized with a jolt that the gauntlet hadn't just been a giveaway. It had been a recruitment drive. And his main benefactor was now his ultimate rival. The race hadn't just started. He was already millions of pounds behind.