Over Deva Stadium, the home field of mid-table Chester, who had nothing to play for, the rain continued to fall.
For them, this match was just another Saturday.
For Wrexham AFC, it was life or death.
As the players warmed up, Leo Faulkner watched from the touchline, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets.
Wrexham had won one game and lost one game, but they were still only four points above the relegation zone.
They couldn't afford to slip. One bad result, and they'd be right back in danger.
And judging by the way Chester's coach, Paul Ranger, was walking toward him, Leo was about to get another reminder that no one took him seriously yet.
Ranger was a broad-shouldered, old-school coach, the kind who believed football was about grit, fight, and long balls into the box.
He smirked as he stopped beside Leo, looking him up and down.
"You're the Wrexham lad, huh?"
Leo didn't look at him. "Seems like it."
Ranger chuckled. "Fair play to you, mate. But let's be honest—you're just delaying the inevitable, aren't you?"
Leo finally turned his head, expression unreadable. "That so?"
"Come on," Ranger shrugged. "Your lot are going down. Everyone knows it. Doesn't matter how many lucky wins you scrape together."
Leo didn't respond.
Ranger grinned, taking Leo's silence as a sign of doubt.
"Here's some advice," Ranger continued. "Don't get too fancy. I've seen new managers like you before, trying to reinvent the wheel. Play it simple today. Otherwise, we'll tear you apart."
Leo finally smirked.
"Appreciate the advice," he said casually. "But I think I'll take my chances."
Ranger let out a short laugh. "Your funeral, mate."
As the Chester coach walked off, a blue screen flickered in Leo's vision.
[Ding! Opponent Tactical Analysis Complete.]
[Chester FC: Weakness – Struggles against deep defensive blocks.]
[Suggested Formation: 5-3-2 Ultra-Defensive Counterattack.]
Leo's smirk widened.
Let's see who tears apart who.
The first half was ugly.
Wrexham lined up in a deep 5-3-2, sitting in two tight defensive lines, refusing to press.
Chester dominated possession, passing the ball around, trying to find a way through.
Ranger's frustration grew with every failed attack. His team had the ball, but they weren't creating any clear chances.
Whenever they got close to Wrexham's box, Jos Root and John Barnes cleared everything away.
By the 30th minute, Chester started forcing crosses into the box—desperate long balls, hoping for a mistake.
But Wrexham's defense held firm.
At halftime, the scoreboard read:
Chester 0 – 0 Wrexham.
Inside the locker room, the air was tense.
Some players looked exhausted from all the defending. Others, like Smith, looked frustrated.
"We're just sitting back," Smith muttered. "No offense, no rhythm. How do you expect us to win?"
Leo didn't look up from the tactics board. "Patience."
Smith scoffed. "Patience for what? Another lucky counterattack?"
Leo turned and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Patience for when they get desperate."
The room fell silent.
"We've frustrated them for forty-five minutes," Leo continued. "In the second half, they'll push higher. They'll send more men forward. And that's when we strike."
A new notification flashed in Leo's vision.
[Ding! Real-Time Tactical Adjustment Available.]
[Player Recommendation: Bring on Reed Johnson in the 70th minute for counter-attacks.]
Leo nodded to himself. The game plan was set.
The second half started exactly as Leo expected.
Chester pushed higher and higher, leaving their defense exposed.
Ranger was getting impatient, waving his arms, demanding more attacking movement.
Leo just waited.
Then, 70th minute.
Leo turned to his bench.
"Johnson. You're on."
The young winger's eyes lit up.
He replaced Alex Stayn, shifting the team into a 5-4-1 hybrid, waiting for the perfect moment.
Chester continued attacking, leaving more space behind.
Then, in the 85th minute, it happened.
A sloppy pass in midfield.
Smith, for all his attitude, made the crucial interception.
One quick pass forward—straight to Johnson.
Chester's defenders reacted too late.
Johnson exploded down the wing, sprinting past the last defender, one-on-one with the keeper.
He took a deep breath—then calmly slotted the ball into the bottom corner.
GOAL.
Chester 0 – 1 Wrexham.
The away fans erupted.
Leo?
He simply smiled.
The final whistle blew.
Wrexham had stolen a 1-0 victory.
Ranger stormed off the pitch, furious.
Leo walked over to shake his hand.
Ranger glared at him. "You parked the damn bus."
Leo smirked. "I stuck to what I know."
Ranger clenched his jaw. "Lucky amateur."
Leo's smirk grew wider.
"Lucky? Or did I have a real game plan?"
Ranger said nothing. Just turned and walked away.
Leo watched him go, hands in his pockets.