⚽ Football Reborn: The Manager from the Future
Chapter 10 – Island of Fire: Meeting the Machine in Madeira(~630 words)
The plane banked over the jagged cliffs of Madeira, descending toward the island's only runway—cut narrowly into the Atlantic Ocean like a scar between sea and stone. Ethan pressed his face to the window, watching the waves lash against the rocks.
"This place is carved by fire," he murmured.
The AI spoke softly in his earpiece.
"Local terrain: volcanic origin. Economic index: lower-middle. Psychological profile of subject: intense, volatile, excellence-obsessed."
"Target spotted: Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro. Playing 5-a-side, community pitch, Funchal district."
Ethan stepped off the plane with a worn backpack and boots still muddy from Darlington's last training session. No suit, no entourage. Just a man chasing a name written into future Champions League finals and Ballon d'Or galas.
He checked into a cheap hostel, dropped his bag, and walked twenty minutes uphill toward the Funchal pitch. Children's laughter echoed off the cobblestones, and stray dogs barked as kids battled fiercely over a weathered football.
And there he was.
Cristiano.
Only 12, but already built like a racehorse. Lean. Muscles straining through a torn jersey. He wasn't just playing—he was dominating. He barked at teammates for missed passes. Threw his arms in frustration when someone didn't track back. Scored two goals, then ran back to defend like his life depended on it.
Ethan watched, transfixed. Messi danced through chaos with joy.
Ronaldo? He punched through it with fury.
After the game, Ethan approached the edge of the pitch, nodding to the older man watching with folded arms. A weary face, hardened by years of work—José Dinis, Cristiano's father.
"You're not local," José said flatly.
"I'm not," Ethan replied. "I came to speak with you. And your son."
"You're a scout?"
"A manager. From England. I have a proposal."
José laughed bitterly. "Everyone has proposals. But no one has money."
"I have both," Ethan said. "But more importantly, I have a future for your boy."
José raised an eyebrow. "He's good. But no one's that good."
Ethan pulled out his tablet and tapped into the AI, letting it play a projection—side-by-side footage of Cristiano today, and what he'd become: lightning runs, headers like missiles, celebration after scoring in Champions League finals.
José stared, breath catching.
"This… this is—?"
"This is what your son can become," Ethan said. "But only if someone believes in him now."
Cristiano approached, wiping sweat from his brow. "Pai, who's this?"
"This is the man who says you're going to be the best in the world."
Cristiano looked Ethan dead in the eye, unflinching. "I already know I will be."
Ethan smiled. "Then let's speed things up."
Later that night, Ethan sat across from Dolores Aveiro, Cristiano's mother, in their modest kitchen. She was stronger than she looked—worn by hardship, but sharp, protective.
"You want to take my son across the ocean to a small club in England?"
"Not take," Ethan said. "Build. We'll enroll him in an academy, house him, train him. In two years, he'll be better than any 15-year-old in Portugal."
"He doesn't speak English."
"He learns fast. Trust me."
Dolores folded her arms. "He's not soft like other kids. He trains until he vomits. He cries when he loses. He's angry. He's… different."
Ethan leaned forward.
"That's exactly why he's going to make it."
At dawn, a contract was signed. The first leg of greatness secured.
✅ Cristiano Ronaldo: Developmental Agreement Signed
Family housing: Pending
Training start: 3 months
AI projection: Early first-team debut probable by age 16
As Ethan left the house, Cristiano ran to catch him.
"When do I start?"
"Soon," Ethan said. "Train until I call."
Cristiano nodded once. "I will."
And Ethan believed him.
Because Ronaldo didn't wish for greatness.
He demanded it.