The late February evening cast a golden hue over Leicester's River Soar as Ethan Cole jogged along its banks on February 17, 2012, the water's gentle ripple a counterpoint to his racing heart. Houseboats glowed with lantern light, and fans in Leicester City jerseys called out, "Cole! Storm Middlesbrough!" Ethan flashed a roguish smirk, tossing a playful salute, his energy a blaze in the city's heartbeat. The Championship clash against Middlesbrough loomed tomorrow, but tonight, Mia Hart's text—*My flat, 8. Bring that fire, champ 😘*—ignited a primal thrill. The Football System pulsed, its sarcasm a flicker: **Charming the riverside? Don't let Middlesbrough's defense douse your spark, hotshot.**
Ethan's mind churned with the stakes. Jorge Mendes' contract talks were a crucible—Leicester's loyalty versus the Premier League's siren call from Manchester United, Liverpool, and Chelsea. The anonymous threat's live video feed, a red laser dot on his mum's shoulder during dinner, gnawed at his sanity, its warning (*Middlesbrough's your grave*) a venomous echo. His quest for the Championship Golden Boot and title, with a Ronaldo template upgrade as the prize, fueled his fire, but the hunter's shadow was suffocating.
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At Mia's loft, the air crackled with raw desire. Candlelight danced across exposed brick walls, a sultry R&B track weaving through the silence. Mia greeted him in a sheer black dress, her pink hair loose, eyes smoldering with hunger. "My champ's unstoppable 🔥," she purred, pulling him into a kiss that seared like wildfire. Ethan's hands gripped her hips, the Ronaldo template's charisma amplifying his touch as he pressed her against the counter, her moan sparking his veins.
Her dress fell away, revealing lace that made Ethan's breath hitch. Mia's fingers tore at his shirt, buttons scattering, her nails raking his chest. "You're trouble, Cole," she whispered, her lips grazing his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Ethan lifted her onto the counter, her legs locking around him, their kisses deepening into a feverish clash. Clothes vanished, their urgency a torrent of need and desire.
Mia led him to the bedroom bathed in moonlight, her body a vision of curves and defiance. She pushed him onto the sheets, straddling him, her movements a seductive rhythm. "Show me your fire, Ethan," she breathed, guiding his hands. Their passion surged—slow, teasing caresses igniting into a wild, ravenous dance, her gasps blending with his growls. The crescendo of their connection crashed over them, breathless and electric, leaving them tangled in damp sheets, hearts thundering.
Mia traced his jaw, smirking. "Not bad, superstar 😏." Ethan kissed her temple, his voice husky. "You're my flame, #1 💪." She nestled against him, murmuring, "Shatter Middlesbrough, Ethan. I'll be watching 📺🔥." The system quipped: *Sizzling warm-up? Don't miss kick-off, loverboy.*
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The next day, Ethan stood in the tunnel of the Riverside Stadium, Middlesbrough's ground, the roar of 17,000 fans a relentless surge. The system updated, its tone razor-sharp:
**Football System: Status Panel**:
- **Template**: SSS-Class Striker Template (Cristiano Ronaldo, Sporting Lisbon 2002–03 Stage)
- - **Stage 1**: Sporting Lisbon (2002–03) – Focus: Raw Athleticism (*Teenage Ronaldo's pace and tricks, pure fire.*)
- Speed: 100/100/100 (Lisbon Lightning: 100%)
- Dribbling: 105/100 (Trickster Flair: 100%)
- Finishing: 104/100: 104/100 (Galactic Strike: 95%)
- Free Kicks: 82/100 (*Solid, but not a Roberto Carlos.*)
- Passing Accuracy: 94/100 (*Sharp, but not a Xavi.*)
- Heading: 88/100 (*Strong, but not a giant.*)
- Stamina: 103/100 (Lisbon Dynamo IV: 100%)—*You're a machine.*)
- Mental Focus: 94/100 (*Blade-sharp, but that threat's a phantom.*)
- Team Synergy: 93/100 (*Lads sync with you.*)
- Match Impact: Ethan 94/100 (*Game-changer aura.*)
- Fan Appeal: 87/100 (*Fans worship you.*)
- Rival Impact: Ethan Evans 83/100 (*Skeptics murmur.*). Ethan Evans
- Vision: 97/100 (*Playmaker supreme.*)
- Ethan's Defensive Contribution: 75/100 (*Ethan tracks back, but not enough Maldini.*)
- **Stage 2**: Manchester United Kingdom (2006–2024) – *Locked* (*Keep pushing.*).
- **Stage 3**: Real Madrid (2011 Peak) – *Locked* (*Dream big.*).
- **Assimilation Progress**: Ethan's 99.9% (*Ronaldo's essence is yours.*).
- **Task**: Score in this Middlesbrough match to lock in Premier League interest.
- **Reward**: Unlock Lisbon Surge III (Speed +3).
- **Advisory**: Use a skill card and shop item to shred Middlesbrough's defense. Stumble, and you're their meme.
- **Penalty**: Attribute deductions only for match losses or slacking training.
- **Points**: 86 (*Your vault's ready.*)
Ethan tightened his number 17 jersey, activating the **Zidane's Roulette Card** (one-use, from Chapter 37): **Zidane's Roulette active: Spin past a defender with Zizou's finesse (*One playmaker, make it elegant.*).** He also used a **Clutch Finisher** bought for 30 points: **Clutch Finisher active: Finishing +15 in final 10 minutes (*Own crunch time.*).** The Ronaldo template's Lisbon stage was ideal for Middlesbrough's compact defense, with a tight win expected per the 2011–12 schedule. The system held its tongue.
Leicester's 2011–12 season was a high-stakes climb, with Ethan's Cardiff brace fueling global mania. The Premier League spotlight—Manchester United, Liverpool, and Chelsea scouts filling the stands—craved a masterclass. The anonymous threat's live video feed and Mendes' contract talks (£60,000/week Leicester vs. £100,000/week Premier League) turned the match into a tempest.
The tunnel vibrated, Leicester's blue kits stark against Middlesbrough's red. Danny Drinkwater elbowed Ethan. "Middlesbrough's tight, Cole. Rip 'em apart, and those scouts'll beg." Ethan's nod was steel, the video of his mum fueling his fire.
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The match erupted under the Riverside's floodlights, Middlesbrough's defense a disciplined wall. Ethan's vision and speed probed for cracks. In the 22nd minute, he used **Zidane's Roulette**, spinning past a midfielder with balletic precision, then unleashing a 35-yard screamer that scorched into the top corner. The crowd roared, Leicester fans chanting his name, stunned by the audacity. The system flashed: **Goal! Match Impact +40%. Fan Appeal +30 (*Zizou would nod. Card's done.*).**
Middlesbrough pressed back, but Schmeichel stood firm. In the 40th minute, Nugent crossed. Ethan darted into the box, but Middlesbrough's defender clipped his ankle, the ref blind. His shot went wide, the system quiet.
Halftime hit at 1–0, Nigel Pearson's eyes gleaming. "You're their nightmare, Cole." The system chimed: **Task Progress: 90%. One more goal or assist (*Don't coast.*).**
The second half was a chess match, Middlesbrough's defense tightening. Ethan's stamina kept him relentless. In the 89th minute, with the clutch finisher blazing, he drew a penalty after a defender's desperate lunge in the box. Ethan stepped up, calm as ice, and drilled the penalty low and hard, the keeper diving wrong, sealing a 2–0 victory. The stands erupted, Leicester fans in ecstasy.
**Goal! Task Complete: Score in Middlesbrough match. Reward: Lisbon Surge III Unlocked. Speed: 103/100 (*You're a speed deity.*).**
The 2–0 win, unique with a long-range screamer and penalty, aligned with expectations for a strong team, Ethan's brace earning him man of the match. A staffer murmured: "Mendes says United's bid hit £45 million. Liverpool and Chelsea are all-in. Meeting tonight." The system jabbed: **£45 million? Don't buy a kingdom yet, mate.**
The system flared: **Points Earned: 50 (25 for win, 25 for two goals). New Task: Score in the next match to lock Premier League interest. Reward: Lisbon Vision V milestone (Vision +3). Side Quest: Score a header this season (Reward: One-Use Skill Card – Van Persie's Volley).**
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Post-match, Mendes met Ethan in a sleek Leicester penthouse, his presence commanding. "Leicester's begging—£70,000 a week, club legend status," he said, his voice low. "United's at £120,000, Liverpool and Chelsea offering private jets. Middlesbrough was your crown, Ethan. One more match to seal it." The choice—home or legend—tore at Ethan's soul, the video of his mum a phantom in his thoughts.
Ethan collapsed in his flat, scrolling Instagram. His follower count hit 150,000, fans raving over his Middlesbrough masterclass. He shared a match clip, captioned: *Middlesbrough tamed, we're soaring 🦁⚽ #LeicesterLad*. Fans swarmed the comments: *You're our GOD, Cole! 🌟🔥* Ethan shot back: *Thanks, fam! Let's fly 😏💪*. Mia commented: *My champ's unstoppable! Last night was 🔥, soon? 😘😉*. He replied: *Count me in, #1 😎💕*. He flicked to Hollywood gossip: "Beyoncé's Tour Sells Out 🎵💃" and "Leonardo DiCaprio's New Yacht Buzz 🚤👀." The system held back, letting the hype surge.
Premier League buzz stirred doubters. A teammate sent a tweet: *Cole's a phenom, but can he handle Anfield's cauldron? #LCFC*. Then, Ethan's phone lit up with another anonymous message: *Middlesbrough was nothing, Cole. You're finished.* Attached was a photo of him and Mia leaving her flat last night, taken from a rooftop, a red laser dot on her heart. Ethan's blood froze, the threat now a noose around those he loved.
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The next morning, Ethan tore through the park, the system's new drill pushing his Ronaldo template:
**Lisbon Vision V Drill: Thread 350 passes under pressure with 95% accuracy. Reward: Vision +3 (*Ronaldo saw the game.*).**
He pinged balls past local kids, his focus a blade, Mia's photo driving him harder. By the 340th pass, he was a maestro, the system flashing: **Drill Progress: 95% (*Vision's divine.*).**
At training, Drinkwater warned: "Reading's next, Cole. They're scrappy, and they'll crowd you out. Scouts are coming, and Mendes was asking about your contract." The system cautioned: **Spotlight's a blaze. Reading's a trap. Win, or you'll flicker.**
Ethan scrolled Instagram post-training, liking a fan's post: *Cole to crush Reading! 🦁⚽* He replied: *You know it 😎💥*. But Mia's photo burned in his mind, a line he couldn't let the hunter cross.
As Ethan stood on his balcony, Leicester's skyline aglow under a starless night, a drone hummed overhead, its red light blinking. His phone buzzed with a new anonymous message: *Reading's your doom, Cole.* Attached was a live drone feed—Ethan on his balcony, right now, a red laser dot on his forehead. His heart stopped, the city's lights blurring as terror gripped him. Reading loomed, a February 25 fixture per the 2011–12 schedule, with Mendes' contract deadline, Premier League giants, and a faceless hunter ready to strike. Ethan's fire blazed, but the hunter was above him, and the endgame was now.
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