Chapter 317: 2026 Premier League season
Today was the opening day of the 2026 Premier League season.
"Boss... my heart is beating so fast I think it’s going to crack my ribs," Arthur Milton whispered. The assistant manager was aggressively chewing on a handful of red jelly babies, his clipboard pressed tightly against his chest.
"Relax, Arthur," Michael said, his voice as flat and calm as a frozen lake. "The system is perfectly calibrated. The variables have been accounted for."
[Ding!]
A translucent blue screen flashed in Michael’s field of vision.
[Football Empire System]
[Quest Active: The Empire Strikes First!]
[Description: The Premier League doubts your newly assembled squad. They think last season was a fluke. Prove them wrong on Opening Day against Chelsea FC.]
[Objective: Win the match with a clean sheet. Assert total physical dominance.]
[Reward: 15,000 System Points, +20% Global Fear Factor, ’Ruthless Dynasty’ Team Aura.]
Michael swiped the screen away just as the referee blew the whistle to summon the players.
From the home dressing room, the Misfits marched out. They didn’t look like the chaotic, easily frightened kids from a few months ago. They looked like an army.
At the front was Lisandro ’The Butcher’ Martinez, his heavily tattooed arms flexing as he cracked his neck. Behind him was Enzo Moretti, sporting a freshly taped left ring finger to cover his brand-new wedding band. Arda Güler and Kaito Tanaka walked side-by-side, sharing a quiet, intensely focused nod. And bringing up the rear was Jax, who wasn’t holding his phone or smiling for the cameras. He actually looked deadly serious.
On the other side of the tunnel stood the billionaire-backed superstars of Chelsea FC. Cole Palmer, Enzo Fernandez, and Reece James looked over at the Barnsley squad with a mixture of curiosity and mild disdain.
"Look at them," Arthur muttered, nudging Michael. "Chelsea thinks they can just walk in here and take three points. Remember a month ago, Boss? When we were getting ripped apart in training by our own reserves? I actually said to you... maybe we need more practice on defense before the Friendly tournament."
Michael allowed a rare, tiny smile to touch his lips. "You did say that, Arthur. But then we played Diego Simeone’s Atletico Madrid. And my defenders learned what true suffering is."
"Yeah..." Arthur shivered, recalling the brutal, closed-door friendly where Lisandro had turned the pitch into a wrestling mat to protect the newly-wed Enzo Moretti. "I don’t think Cole Palmer is ready for the Butcher."
The teams walked out onto the pitch. The noise from the Barnsley fans was an absolute earthquake. Up in the VIP executive box, Kenji Sato was wearing a purple suit that literally glowed under the stadium lights, waving a massive flag with Kaito Tanaka’s face on it.
The referee checked his watch. He raised the whistle to his lips.
Peeeeeep!
The 2026 Premier League season officially began.
Chelsea took the kick-off. Enzo Fernandez immediately tried to dictate the tempo, pinging a sharp pass out wide to Mykhailo Mudryk. The Ukrainian winger trapped the ball and instantly turned on the jets, expecting to easily bypass Barnsley’s young right-back, Liam.
But Liam didn’t backpedal. He didn’t panic. The ghost of the brutal sand training and the traumatic Atletico friendly kicked in.
Instead of retreating, Liam stepped directly into Mudryk’s path, dropping his center of gravity and burying his shoulder into the winger’s chest. It was a perfectly legal, devastatingly heavy challenge. Mudryk went flying out of bounds, tumbling onto the running track.
"Welcome to Yorkshire, mate~!" Liam yelled, pumping his fist.
The Barnsley crowd erupted.
Chelsea looked shocked. Cole Palmer raised his hands, complaining to the referee, but the official just waved play on.
"Good!" Michael shouted from the touchline, clapping his hands once. "Hold the line! Suffocate the space!"
Barnsley didn’t just hold the line; they built an iron wall. Every time Chelsea tried to enter the final third, they hit a brick wall of pure, unadulterated Yorkshire grit, spearheaded by the terrifying Argentine defensive midfielder.
In the 22nd minute, Chelsea’s record-signing striker tried to drop deep to receive a pass. He didn’t even get to touch the leather. Lisandro Martinez arrived like a freight train, sliding perfectly through the grass, cleanly taking the ball and leaving the striker staring at the sky in disbelief.
Lisandro popped up instantly, the ball glued to his feet. He looked up and fired a pass straight to Enzo Moretti.
"Now!" Michael whispered, his eyes locking onto the tactical geometry unfolding on the pitch.
Enzo didn’t need to look. With the ’Legendary Vision’ trait he unlocked during his wedding-day friendly, he already knew where everyone was. He cushioned the ball with his right foot and immediately clipped a delicate, looping pass over the Chelsea midfield.
Arda Güler received it beautifully on his chest.
Suddenly, the Chelsea defense panicked. They had three Barnsley players sprinting at them like starving wolves. Arda drifted to the right half-space, drawing two defenders toward him.
"Jax!" Arda called out, slipping a no-look pass directly into the teenager’s path.
Jax accelerated past Marc Cucurella as if the Spanish defender was running in slow motion. Jax didn’t do a step-over. He didn’t try to be flashy. He remembered Michael’s cold warning about efficiency. He reached the byline and fired a low, lethal cross across the face of the six-yard box.
Kaito Tanaka, the Japanese speedster, materialized out of thin air at the back post.
Smash!
The ball hammered into the roof of the net before the Chelsea goalkeeper could even raise his hands.
1-0 Barnsley!
"GOLAZO~!" Kaito screamed, sprinting to the corner flag and hitting his signature anime pose. Jax jumped onto his back, and Arda tackled them both to the ground in a massive, joyous pile.
Up in the commentary gantry, the television broadcasters were absolutely losing their minds.
"What a sweeping counter-attack! It took them less than ten seconds to transition from defense to a goal! Chelsea are shell-shocked! It’s absolute pure devastation from Michael Sterling’s men!"
Down on the touchline, Arthur was stuffing three jelly babies into his mouth at once. "Boss! Did you see that?! The asymmetric overload! It worked perfectly! We didn’t even give them a chance to breathe!"
"Do not celebrate yet, Arthur," Michael said, though his eyes were gleaming with pride. "We want total dominance. I want them to fear coming to this stadium."
For the rest of the first half, it wasn’t a football match. It was an execution.
Chelsea tried to adjust, but Michael had completely rewired his team’s mental processing. When Chelsea pressed high, Enzo Moretti simply chipped the ball over them. When Chelsea dropped deep, Arda Güler danced through their defensive lines like a ghost, threading passes that defied the laws of physics.
Right before halftime, Arda won a free-kick on the edge of the penalty box.
Enzo and Arda stood over the ball. The Chelsea wall looked absolutely terrified. Enzo whispered something to the young Turkish prince and ran over the ball. The Chelsea goalkeeper shifted his weight, anticipating Enzo’s shot.
Instead, Arda stepped up and whipped a curling, dipping strike with his left foot. The ball kissed the underside of the crossbar and bounced violently over the line.
2-0 Barnsley!
The stadium was shaking so hard Michael could feel the vibrations through the soles of his shoes.
The halftime whistle blew, and as the players jogged into the tunnel, the Sky Sports broadcast echoed around the stadium screens. The lead commentator’s voice was filled with a mix of awe and sheer disbelief.
"I cannot believe what I am watching! The league is begging folks... someone needs to find a way to stop this Barnsley team! They defend like street fighters and attack like poets! Michael Sterling has built a monster in Yorkshire!"
Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was electric. The players weren’t sitting down exhausted; they were pacing, hyped up on adrenaline and the sheer joy of tactical superiority.
"Did you see Palmer’s face?!" Jax laughed, taking a sip of his sports drink. "He looked like he saw a ghost when Butcher tackled him!"
Lisandro grinned, wiping sweat from his beard. "They are too soft. They play in London. They drink expensive lattes. We drink the rain! I want another goal!"
Michael walked into the center of the room. The noise instantly vanished. Total, unwavering respect commanded the space.
"You played a good forty-five minutes," Michael said, his voice level. "The defense was solid. The transitions were sharp. But two-nil is the most dangerous lead in football. Chelsea will bring on fresh legs. They will try to overload the wings."
Michael turned to Kaito. "Kaito. They are going to double-team you in the second half. They are terrified of your pace."
"Let them try, Boss," Kaito smiled confidently. "I have my gold hamstrings ready."
"Good," Michael replied. He looked at his entire squad. "We don’t sit back. We don’t defend the lead. We step on their throats. I want a clean sheet, and I want a third goal. Show the Premier League that Barnsley is not a stepping stone anymore."
"YES, BOSS!" the locker room roared.
[Ding!]
[System Alert: Tactical Resonance Achieved!]
[The squad’s confidence has peaked. ’Iron Wall’ defensive trait is currently operating at 150% efficiency.]
The second half was a masterclass in game management. Chelsea threw everything they had at Barnsley, bringing on a hundred million pounds worth of attacking substitutes.
It didn’t matter.
Every time a blue shirt touched the ball, two Barnsley players were instantly breathing down their neck. Leo Rossi was substituted on in the 75th minute, his long wavy hair bouncing as he lazily but perfectly executed a roulette turn past Enzo Fernandez, making the World Cup winner look like an amateur.
In the 88th minute, a frustrated Chelsea defender committed a foul inside the box. Penalty to Barnsley.
Kaito Tanaka picked up the ball. He had the chance to score his second goal of the game. But instead of walking to the spot, Kaito jogged over to Enzo Moretti and handed the ball to the Italian.
"For the wedding, Maestro," Kaito smiled, patting Enzo on the back.
Enzo looked at the ball, then looked at Michael on the touchline. Michael gave a single, firm nod.
Enzo stepped up to the penalty spot. He didn’t even look at the goalkeeper. He took a short run-up and casually slotted the ball into the bottom right corner, sending the keeper the wrong way.
3-0 Barnsley.
Enzo kissed his taped-up ring finger and pointed at the VIP box, where Kenji was crying actual tears of joy.
The final whistle blew shortly after.
Peeeeeep! Peeeep! Peeeeeeeeep!
[Ding!]
[Reward Claimed: 15,000 System Points]
