Next Big Thing

[Drop some powers, leave a comment or review if you want, and enjoy the chapter, trying to hit 400 power stones this week.] 

.....

After finishing the extra ball-stopping training, Tristan and Mahrez, still dressed in their Leicester City training kits, strolled off the field and began walking back to the base. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, the cool breeze a welcome relief after a hard day's work.

"Tristan, any idea when you're getting your driver's license?" Mahrez asked, playfully nudging him as they walked side by side, sweat still clinging to their jerseys.

Tristan grinned, shaking his head. "Still a bit of time left. My first road test is next month."

Mahrez, who was just 23 at the time but already brimming with confidence on and off the field, raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Already know what car you're getting? Something flashy?" He shot a knowing smirk.

Tristan chuckled, the image of a flashy sports car momentarily flashing in his mind, before fading. "Not yet. I'll probably practice with my dad's old Volkswagen first. You know, get used to driving before thinking about anything new."

Mahrez snorted, his laugh contagious. "A Volkswagen, huh? And here I was thinking you'd go straight for a Lambo or something."

"I'm not Jamie Vardy!" Tristan said, laughing. "That'd be too much, too soon. Gotta start somewhere, though."

The banter between the two continued as they entered the locker room. It had become a routine of sorts for them, both pushing each other on the pitch and off. Mahrez headed straight for the showers, while Tristan sat down, a subtle smile playing on his lips. He had developed a strong bond with the Algerian over the past few months, their mutual respect growing with every training session.

But his focus wasn't solely on that. As Mahrez disappeared into the showers, Tristan opened his [Character Panel] once again. The familiar interface popped up in his mind, and he quickly navigated to his [Stop] attribute.

The corner of his mouth lifted in satisfaction. Thirty days of extra ball-stopping drills, under the watchful eye of one of the world's best, had paid off. His [Stop] attribute had increased by five points, from 64 to 69. It wasn't an overnight transformation, but it was noticeable. His first touch felt smoother, more precise, more controlled. Seeing the gains confirmed that his hard work had been worth it.

He smiled to himself, knowing this was just the beginning.

Mahrez hadn't slacked off either. Under Tristan's guidance and constant encouragement, his passing had improved dramatically. It was like they were spurring each other on—every training session, every game, a new challenge to surpass the last.

With his newfound precision, Mahrez had racked up seven assists, only one behind Tristan, who still led the team. They weren't just teammates; they were competitors in the best way.

Feeling pleased with their progress, Tristan refocused. He wasn't done yet. The season had far more to offer, and so did his potential. He opened the [Props Bar] and stared at the card glowing faintly with a soft white light.

"It's time," he muttered, a wave of anticipation settling in his chest. With a thought, the system's voice chimed in.

[Do you wish to use the Training Accelerator Card?]

"Yes," Tristan answered without hesitation.

[Ding Dong!] [The prop has been successfully used.] [Please select an attribute to accelerate.]

Six options appeared before him: [Ball Control], [Shooting], [Passing], [Defense], [Physical], and [Spirit]. His fingers hovered briefly, but his mind was already made up. He tapped [Ball Control].

[Selection successful.]

The card's glow intensified before dissolving into a stream of light, flowing directly into his chest. He placed a hand over his heart, feeling no physical change, but a subtle mental shift—a spark of excitement, knowing that his efforts were about to pay off even faster.

"The effect looks pretty dramatic," he thought, appreciating the system's visual cues. But he knew that hard work would be needed regardless of the system's help. His plan was clear—more ball control drills, more touches, more refinement. This was his opportunity to close the gap with the best, and he wouldn't let it slip away.

The Championship season was shaping up to be a historic one for Leicester City. Under Nigel Pearson's leadership, every player on the squad, from attackers to defenders, even Kasper Schmeichel in goal, seemed to be performing at their peak.

But the real standouts were the front three: Tristan, Mahrez, and Vardy. Tristan's vision and exceptional passing, Mahrez's flair and sharp dribbling, and the relentless finishing of 27-year-old Jamie Vardy had created a trio that defenders across the league dreaded facing.

Since January, when the three had begun starting together, Leicester had been unstoppable.

As the weeks passed, fans began recognizing the chemistry between the trio, dubbing them the Three Musketeers. And after an unbeaten March, it was clear to everyone that Leicester City was on the brink of something special.

With 39 games played, they sat comfortably at the top of the table with 94 points—31 wins, 3 draws, and only 5 losses. Burnley, second place, trailed with 79 points. Queens Park Rangers and Derby County, both further behind, were practically out of contention.

Even with eight games left, promotion seemed inevitable. Tristan was well aware of what this meant for his future. The Premier League was on the horizon, and with it, an entirely new level of competition.

St. George's Park, Burton upon Trent, Staffordshire.

In a dark room, lit only by the glow of a projector, Gareth Southgate, 43, sat alongside his assistant, Steve Holland. The two had been watching video after video, scouting the most promising U21 talents England had to offer. Today's focus was on one player in particular—the rising star, Tristan Hale.

Southgate had already seen Tristan's highlight reels multiple times. The boy's vision, his technique, his passing range—it was all there. But Southgate knew better than to be swayed by flashy clips alone. He needed to see the player in real-time, in the heat of a game.

That's why he had attended a Leicester match at Turf Moor last month. And within seven minutes, Tristan had caught his eye, delivering a sublime, curved pass that set up the opening goal.

Steve paused the video on that very moment. "Look at the weight of the pass, the timing," he said. "That's Beckham-level vision."

Southgate nodded thoughtfully, his eyes tracing the trajectory of the ball on the screen. "What do you make of him?" he asked.

Steve didn't hesitate. "He's already ahead of the U21s. No one there can pass like that. Hell, I'd say no one in the senior team can pass like that either. I don't even think Beckham had this kind of spatial awareness."

Southgate raised an eyebrow. "Beckham?" The comparison was no small praise, and Steve didn't make such claims lightly.

Of course that was the first comparison that English made that moment Tristan made his debut with his looks and playing style.

"It's the way he finds space," Steve continued. "He's not whipping in crosses like Beckham, but he's threading passes through gaps that most players don't even see. It's... uncanny."

Southgate leaned back, impressed. He had been excited about Tristan since the first time he watched him play, but this? This was a level beyond.

"How many assists has he had this season?" he asked.

Steve flipped through his notes. "18 assists and 10 goals, amazing numbers for someone who just debuted three months ago."

Southgate crossed his arms, thinking deeply. "What do you think of him skipping the U21 team altogether? Bring him into the senior squad for the qualifiers."

Steve blinked, surprised. "You're serious?"

Southgate smiled faintly. "You've just compared him to Beckham. I'd be mad not to consider it."

Steve let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "He's got the talent, no doubt about that. But skipping the U21s? That's a massive leap, Gareth. You know how many players we've seen burn out from too much too soon."

Southgate knew Steve was right. The pressure that came with playing for the senior team was immense. Every touch, every pass scrutinized by the media, fans, and coaches alike. But he couldn't shake the feeling that Tristan Hale was built different.

"I've seen him handle pressure," Southgate said after a moment. "In every match, he's calm and composed. He makes decisions like a veteran. Look at him at Leicester—he's playing with grown man, and he's not just keeping up; he's leading. That's not something you see every day."

Steve nodded, still weighing the decision. "It's true. And with his playing style, he wouldn't be out of place against senior defenders either.But it's his mentality that's the real question. Can he handle the spotlight and the expectations that moment he joins the national team? You also have to consider his half Chinese; you know how some fans are."

Southgate leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the frozen frame of Tristan on the screen. "That's what we need to find out," he said softly. "He's got the tools, Steve. I think he's ready."

Steve didn't argue further. He trusted Southgate's judgment, and more importantly, he saw the same spark in Tristan that Gareth did.

"So, what's the plan?" Steve asked, turning to face him.

"We'll call Pearson," Southgate replied decisively. "I want to know more about his training habits, his mindset, and everything else about him. Then, we'll reach out to Tristan. See if he's ready for this step."

Steve nodded. "It's a bold move, Gareth. But if it works out, we could be looking at the next big thing in English football."

Southgate smiled, already picturing Tristan in the white shirt of England. "Exactly."

The two men sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the decision settling in. This could be the moment that shaped not just Tristan Hale's career but the future of English football.