Leon lay on the hallowed turf of Stamford Bridge, tears of pure joy and immense relief streaming down his face. The final whistle had blown, confirming Aston Villa's 2-1 victory over Chelsea, a win that had secured their place in the Champions League. The roar of the Villa fans, though a small pocket in the vast stadium, was deafening, a triumphant chant of "VILLA! VILLA! CHAMPIONS LEAGUE!"
He slowly pushed himself up. He looked out at the sea of faces in the stands, the cheering, the smiling, the ecstatic fans. He saw their joy, their disbelief, their hope.
A fleeting, almost painful memory flashed in his mind: his first life, the injury that had ended his football dreams, the crushing despair. He remembered the feeling of helplessness, of his body betraying him.
He looked down at his legs, strong and capable now, and a small, private laugh escaped him. He, Leon Fischer, at just sixteen, was a world-renowned player. The contrast was stark, almost comical.
