Lying on his bed, facing up, two blocks of ice he ordered from the room hotel service. Still replaying the match in his head, it seemed like a torture to him, but in honest this has become Winston's ritual; he finds that him doing this has helped him analyze his shortcomings. Sometimes it can be overwhelming, like the match he played yesterday. That loss took the wind out of the entire squad, and Winston took it the hardest. Moving his arm over his face. With a heavy sigh, he sat up, the lump in his throat; he breathed in and out, preparing to face disappointment opening the core system. Furrowed his brows.
Ding!
[User daily challenge]
[Call for the ball: Completed]
[Deadball goals: Not completed]
[Make assists: Not completed]
[Nethen Essence: 50%]
Oh!, for a while now this Nethen Essence has been going up; now it stopped at fifty percent. Does this mean my rating would not be affected? If so, how can I increase this Nethen Essence?
Ever since I entered that simulation, this Nethen essence got activated, and after I won that simulation match, my physical skill reached seventy, and the Nethen essence percentage started going up.
Winston Daley Stats
Nether Essence: 50%
Name: Winston Daley
Birthdate: 25-11-04
Age: 19
Weak Foot: 2
Height: 176cm (5'9)
Foot: Right
Profession: Footballer
Team: Westminster F.C. (Under twenty-one team)
Player Rating: 81
Position: Center forward.
Potential: 87
Acceleration
Sprint Speed
Shooting
Passing
Dribbling
Physical
Reward Points: 00
Skills moves: None.
[Physical selected]
[Physical]
[Nethen Essence: 50%]
Physical: 70
Jumping: 70
Stamina: 70
Strength: 70
Aggression: 70
Hair stood up on the back of his head; Winston stood up, dragging his feet to the bathroom. Splashing cold water in his face with a grin on his face. A surge of excitement caused him to clench his hands tightly. He now has a bit of knowledge about how the core works.
Now wanting to know what the Nethen Essence does. He rushed out of the bathroom and grabbed his gym bag,
"If I continue training my physique, will I be transported back to that simulation again?" he muttered to himself
Rushing to the training ground, a familiar soft voice called him, when he whipped his head back, the familiar girl appeared in front of him. "Hey, I was hoping to see you today. You okay, you seem to be in pain."
"Oh, hey no I just strained my leg in the match yesterday."
"Oh okay, are you free, I want to introduce you to him. I am getting off work early today.
"Yes, yes, I am free."
"Don't worry about it, we can take a taxi there."
"No, I want to take a walk, maybe my legs would be fine."
"If you're sure, then please wait here, I am going to clock out."
Maybe this will work in my favour, maybe Crowe Dumi will give me tips on how to improve my skills
"Okay, I'm ready, let's go"
"Alright."
Winston and Annalise walked along a concrete tile walkway bordered by straight lines of lush trees. The scene was like a romantic movie scene: "So how do you know Crowe Dumi?"
"Oh, he is my father."
Winston looked at the young woman with surprise in his voice and wide eyes. He said, "Wait, your father, is thee Crowe Dumi is your father."
"Hehehe, yeah, I'm Annalise Crowe," she said with a gentle smile, looking back at Winston.
Quickly looking away, Winston said, "wow, no wonder you were nonchalant when you were talking to him."
"Yeah, he is, Dad."
"By the way, I'm Winston Dalely."
Winston continued, "I know your name, you with Westminster F.C. the football club, He watched your match yesterday"
So I wasn't seeing things, it was really him at the stadium. "What does he think... of the match, I mean?" Winston questioned, his voice laced with curiosity.
She paused for a moment before responding. "Mmm, I think he enjoyed it—he said it was interesting and a shame, too."
"You can ask him how he thinks about it."
Winston's heart sank, asking one of his heroes how he played, knowing fully well he played horribly. With a shake of his head, he was fully aware that seeking Dumi's advice would lead to critique of his playing technique.
Having walked for a few kilometers on the pathway paved with concrete tiles, they reached a pedestrian crossing, and from that point onward, they continued until their view was met with a substantial house, surrounded by lush, well-tended fields, and flanked by sturdy beige stone pillars that were capped smoothly and enhanced with upward-protruding dark wrought-iron panels. "This is my house,"
Winston's heart began to pound with anticipation as he realized he was on the verge of meeting the very individual he had once observed on the television screen alongside his father. He dedicated himself to improving his shooting ability because of his strong desire to emulate the man he admired.
Oh man, why am I sweating so much now? Okay, Winston, breathe in, breathe out. This moment is one in a million. Play it cool, play it cool.
Okay, my name is Winston Daley, my name is Winston Daley… okay hoooo.
The moment Annalise clutched the doorknob, executed a turn, and swung wide the enormous, darkly patterned glass door, Winston felt a distinct and uncomfortable tightening in his chest. "Dad, I'm home and I brought a visitor," she said, her hand gesturing Winston to come inside. The loud, smooth jazz relaxed the tension Winston had; "You want something to drink."
"Huh, water would be fine, thank you."
"Go straight to the hallway on the right side, the is a lounge room."
He uttered a soft "Ooh, okay" and then proceeded to walk towards the lounge area, and as his proximity to the source of the music increased, the previously subdued smooth jazz grew significantly louder, now accompanied by a distinct voice humming in unison with the intricate melody of a solo guitarist. As Winston made his way into the lounge area, which was characterized by its absence of a door, he noticed Crowe Dumi, whose back was to him, deeply involved in inspecting various vinyl records, his feet executing a syncopated tap-dance routine. A profound wave of emotions surged through him as he realized that the very man he admired was standing just a few steps away from his current location.
"Hey honey, who is this visitor, is they here for you or me?" he said, picking up his whisky glass on the coffee table. He didn't even bother looking up—he hummed with more animated this time, his favourite part was playing. "Why are you so quiet, did something happen at the hotel?"
"Umm, excuse sir," Winston said, clearing his throat.
In a moment of surprise, Dumi's head snapped around, and he almost lost his grip on the glass of whisky he was holding. He replied, "Oh, it's you. The boy who has been practicing alone nonstop for two days straight."
"Oh yes, my name is Winston Daley," he said, rushing to shake hands with Dumi, who returned the favour. "Nice to meet you too, please sit down," he replied while turning down the music.
"How was yesterday's match? I heard you played well? Tell me, did you and your team win? I couldn't attend it," he said, pouring whisky.
Winston found himself contemplating whether this was a form of testing or a genuine situation, especially since he had a clear view of Dumi and noticed many individuals approaching him for pictures and autographs. Upon casting his gaze toward Dumi, Winston found himself taken aback by Dumi's enduring athletic build, an observation that led Winston to surmise Dumi was likely in his mid-forties, a deduction made all the more plausible by Dumi's early retirement. He was still at his peak when he announced that he would be retiring from playing football. Of course, the football world was shocked; why would someone retire in his peak?
Dumi initially garnered significant recognition for his remarkable performance in a single season, where he not only achieved the impressive feat of scoring 200 goals but also single-handedly elevated his team from a fifth-place standing to the coveted first position. Having achieved the remarkable feat of winning multiple championships for five consecutive years, he developed a distinctive playing style that garnered admiration from young strikers across the globe. Speculation arose on various social media platforms following his announcement of retirement at the young age of thirty, with many suggesting it was a consequence of him failing to capitalize on scoring chances during the championship finals for his team.
"We gave the match our all, but the other team was too good," Winston said, twiddling his thumbs.
"Is that so, then tell me, if you have to rate yourself on your performance, what rating would it be?" Dumi said, eyes fixated on Winston while sipping his whisky.
"Hmmm, maybe five and a half."
"What led you to assign that rating to your performance?"
For a while, the room fell silent. Winston pressed one of his thumbs so hard that the pain jolted him, causing him to tilt his head up to face Dumi, who was seated cross-legged. "It was because… It's because I wasn't good enough. I felt like I was dragging the team."
"Oh, is that so? Why…"
"C'mon, dad this is not therapy," Analise said, entering the lounge room with a tray holding glasses of juice and some cookies. "Don't listen to him, he was there."
"I was having a light, man-to-man conversation."
"But you were grilling him."
"Well, that's how men talk."
"Yeah, right?"
"Anyway, I am off time for my afternoon nap."
"Actually, Dad, he is here for you." She said, stopping her father, who was a distance away from exiting the lounge room. "Me, why." Annalise looked at Winston, who stood up.
"I was hoping you could be my trainer, I will pay. Please, sir."
With a heavy sigh, Dumi asked, "Doesn't your club have a forward trainer?"
"We do, but he is not good, he only trained us on the fundamentals,"
"Kids these days, what's wrong with the fundamentals?"
Dumi assessed Winston from head to toe. And he asked, "What is wrong with your legs?" pointing at his legs. Dumi had been watching Winston for some time and was unsure how to approach the subject. "I strain my legs when I was running—it doesn't hurt though."
"And what did the medic say?"
"I haven't told them."
He shook his head and asked, "You've developed muscle tension; when was the last time you messaged your legs?"
"Umm about two weeks ago."
"What, kid, are you stupid?"
"Dad, is it serious?" asked Annalise, glancing at Winston's swollen legs.
"Yes, if you constantly train without rest, your muscles will start tearing up. In my guess, this kid has been training night and day without actually taking time off."
"Is it possible for someone to fix it?""
"Yes, I know a guy, a retired physician."
"Okay, then you can help him by taking him to that physician."
"But my nap."
"You really should consider venturing out more, Dad; staying inside all the time isn't healthy."
"Please, Mr. Crowe," Winston said in a pleading voice.
"Already, kid, you don't have to look at me with those puppy eyes. You look like a lost dog. c'mon kid, we will take a car there."
"Okay, thank you"
"Don't thank me yet, we still need to see if Haruto can treat your legs first."