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Harbinger Of Glory

Chapter 56: Initiation. · Oct 18, 2026

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Chapter List (629)

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51 Chapter 51: Loftus Road [1] 2026-10-18
52 Chapter 52: Against The Run Of Play. 2026-10-18
53 Chapter 53: Now, More Than Ever 2026-10-18
54 Chapter 54: Just A Start 2026-10-18
55 Chapter 55: You’re In The Club, Now 2026-10-18
56 Chapter 56: Initiation. 2026-10-18
57 Chapter 57: Maestro 2026-10-18
58 Chapter 58: Vicarage Road 2026-10-18
59 Chapter 59: Second Baby Steps 2026-10-18
60 Chapter 60: Young Mind 2026-10-18
61 Chapter 61: First Of Many 2026-10-18
62 Chapter 62: Down And Out 2026-10-18
63 Chapter 63: Two Sides Of London [DONT READ PLEASE.IT IS NOT FOR THIS NOVEL]] 2026-10-18
64 Chapter 64: First Glimpse 2026-10-18
65 Chapter 65: Seeking Salvation. 2026-10-18
66 Chapter 66 66: Unlucky 2026-10-18
67 Chapter 67 67: Losing Grip. 2026-10-18
68 Chapter 68: Run Or Sit. 2026-10-18
69 Chapter 69: First Strides. 2026-10-18
70 Chapter 70: Where Has He Been. 2026-10-18
71 Chapter 71: Don’t Back Down 2026-10-18
72 Chapter 72: The Meeting. 2026-10-18
73 Chapter 73: What First Team Does To A Boy. 2026-10-18
74 Chapter 74: What’s On Your Mind. 2026-10-18
75 Chapter 75: Objectives. 2026-10-18
76 Chapter 76: Club Captains. 2026-10-18
77 Chapter 77: Wigan Vs Blackpool. 2026-10-18
78 Chapter 78: Half Of Football. 2026-10-18
79 Chapter 79: Punished By The Margins. 2026-10-18
80 Chapter 80: Team Sessions.[Second Time SSSORRY GUYS DON’T UNLOCK IT. DIFFERENT STORRY] 2026-10-18
81 Chapter 81: The Equaliser. 2026-10-18
82 Chapter 82: Stoppage Time Fever. 2026-10-18
83 Chapter 83: Mia’s Genie. 2026-10-18
84 Chapter 84: What Just Came In. 2026-10-18
85 Chapter 85: Both Want Him. 2026-10-18
86 Chapter 86: Aftermath, After Millwall. 2026-10-18
87 Chapter 87: Old Acquaintance. 2026-10-18
88 Chapter 88: A Blast From The Past. 2026-10-18
89 Chapter 89: Catch Me If You Can. 2026-10-18
90 Chapter 90: First Of Many. 2026-10-18
91 Chapter 91: The Start Of Something Different. 2026-10-18
92 Chapter 92: An 2026-10-18
93 Chapter 93: The Good Boys. 2026-10-18
94 Chapter 94: Call Of Two Nations 2026-10-18
95 Chapter 95: The Next Step 2026-10-18
96 Chapter 96: Agent Talks 2026-10-18
97 Chapter 97: Latics And The Smoggies. 2026-10-18
98 Chapter 98: Pound For Pound. 2026-10-18
99 Chapter 99: Braveheart. 2026-10-18
100 Chapter 100: Leo, Leo, Leo. 2026-10-18

The final drill wrapped with a sharp whistle, and the group dispersed.

Most of the lads were already peeling off GPS vests and tossing bibs into the bag by the halfway line.

Leo was sweating, breath heavy, but not gasping.

Since Fletcher had stepped into the middle of the rondo, Leo hadn’t lost the ball once.

The passes came clean — sharp one-twos, disguised layoffs, a little shoulder drop to create space when he needed it.

As the group started walking back toward the building, Fletcher matched his stride with Leo’s.

”You’ve got a good eye,” the striker said, dragging his bib off with one hand.

”Quick feet, too, but you don’t panic. You see the picture.”

Leo stayed quiet, not sure if it was a compliment or a setup.

Fletcher added, ”If I’m on the pitch and you come on, just feed me. That’s your job. I’ll do the rest.”

Leo nodded, still catching his breath. ”Got it.”

”Don’t overthink it,” Fletcher said.

”Just be reliable. That’s how you stay with us.”

They reached the side doors and filtered through, heading toward the cafeteria.

The smell of warm food and recovery shakes already floated through the hallway and inside, trays were stacked, food lined out buffet-style, as the squad broke off into small groups.

Leo grabbed a tray, followed the line, and walked toward the main cluster of tables where most of the first team were already dropping into their seats.

Just as he went to pull out a chair, a voice cut across the room.

”Oi.”

Leo paused, tray in hand.

McClean was leaned back in his chair, sipping from a bottle of water, expression half-serious, half-pleased with himself.

”You can’t sit yet.”

Leo frowned. ”Because?”

”You haven’t yet been initiated,” McClean said, setting his bottle down.

”You skipped it before QPR. The call-up was too quick, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”

Around the table, a few players perked up.

One or two looked at each other knowingly.

Chris Sze shook his head, grinning under his breath.

”Here we go.”

Leo looked at Dawson’s empty seat in the corner of the room, as if someone might rescue him from this, but nobody moved.

He sighed. ”It’s not singing, is it?”

”Nah,” McClean said, sitting up now, his tone almost cheerful.

”We’ve moved past that. Got a new tradition for late initiations.”

Joe Bennet raised a finger, helpfully.

”You’ve got to list the starting eleven of Wigan’s 2013 FA Cup Final.”

Leo stared.

”By position,” McClean added. ”In order.”

”Are you serious?”

Fletcher leaned in with a smirk.

”This was your idea, by the way,” he said to McClean.

”No, my idea was the spelling bee with only foreign last names,” McClean replied.

”This one’s just tradition now.”

Leo looked at the faces around the table — a mix of amusement, interest, and a few waiting for him to crack.

Even Fletcher had turned in his seat, arms folded, watching.

”I was, like, seven in 2013,” Leo muttered.

”That’s not our problem,” Whatmough said.

”You’re a Wigan player now. Know your history.”

The table clapped in unison, slow and dramatic.

”Line-up! Line-up! Line-up!”

Chris stood, arms wide like a game show host.

”You can use one lifeline.”

Leo rolled his eyes. ”What kind?”

”You can ask Fletcher to spell Maloney. That’s it.”

Laughter again.

Leo rubbed the back of his neck, walked up to the middle of the room, and turned to face them.

”Alright,” he said.

”But if I get this right, McClean’s buying me boots.”

McClean snorted. ”If you get it right, I’ll buy you two.”

The room settled as Leo stood in the middle of the cafeteria, arms folded, head slightly tilted like he was bracing for embarrassment.

A couple of players leaned forward in their seats, ready to laugh him off the stool.

Chris leaned in with a grin.

”You’re on stage now. Let’s hear history, mate.”

Leo took a deep breath, scratched his chin for show, then started.

”Alright... keeper was Joel Robles. Number one.”

McClean immediately sat up straighter.

Leo went on.

”Back four — Boyce, Scharner, Alcaraz,. Midfield — Espinoza,McCarthy, McArthur, Maloney, Gomez. And... um...”

He paused, squinting like he was reaching for it.

”Callum,” he added, slowly.

A few players nodded, surprised already.

”Up top was... Kone.”

He let that sit for a second.

Chris whispered, ”He’s done it.”

But Leo wasn’t done.

He started walking slowly in a half-circle.

”Subs that came on — Ben Watson scored, obviously. Then Di Santo came on late. And Ali Al-Habsi came in to shut it down.”

He stopped.

Turned.

Looked at McClean directly.

”And the manager... was Roberto Martínez.”

McClean narrowed his eyes. ”You rehearsed this.”

Leo shrugged.

”I signed four months ago. The boys in the U21S made me debate the ’13 final versus United ’99. I’ve known that team like scripture since.”

Chris grinned. ”Man did a full presentation in the dorm over it.”

Leo looked back toward the table.

”And McClean — since you offered, I’ll take the Adidas F50S. Solar blue. Chrome studs. You know the ones, and as for the second boot, I’ll hold onto it and tell you when I need it.”

Silence followed, and for a while, everyone just turned to stare at Mclean until Fletcher let out a short whistle and leaned back.

”You got done,” he said to McClean. ”He got you, mate.”

McClean scratched his jaw, then smirked, a bit annoyed.

”Cheeky little shit,” he muttered, shaking his head.

”Fine. I’m burning them if you ever have a stinker in them”

Laughter broke across the room.

Leo walked back to the table like he’d been there a hundred times.

The seat was open now.

He dropped into it, finally took a sip of water, and exhaled.

Just outside the door, Dawson had been standing the whole time, coffee in hand, leaning quietly against the frame.

He’d heard the whole thing.

He let a faint smile pull at the corner of his mouth, turned down the hallway, and muttered under his breath as he walked away:

”Welcome to the squad.”

.......

7:14 p.m. – Manchester.

Mia’s laugh echoed off the kitchen walls, high and uncontrollable, as she kicked her feet up on the coffee table and nearly spilt a half-open juice pouch.

”You’re lying,” she wheezed, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

Leo smirked as he leaned back into the couch.

”I’m not. Fletcher told McClean he had to buy me boots. You should’ve seen his face.”

”And the initiation?” she said, gasping.

”They really made you do a history quiz?”

”Wigan’s FA Cup final, full line-up,” Leo said.

”I pretended to stutter on a few just to keep them guessing.”

She cackled.

”You’re ridiculous.”

He shrugged, stretching his legs.

”Hey, I learned it the week I signed. I was practically forced to.”

Mia grinned and reached over to grab her phone.

”But, when you get your first start, you’re wearing the boots I decorated for you, right?”

”Every day of the week.”

”Promise?”

”Promise.”

Just then, the front door clicked open and Sofia entered, keys in one hand, grocery bag in the other, still in her navy scrubs.

She gave them both a look.

”I could hear Mia from down the hall. What did I miss?”

Leo grinned.

”Just the story of my public humiliation. The usual.”

Sofia set the food down and waved him toward the table.

”Well, you’ll need fuel to go with your ego. I made enough.”

The family of three settled down and ate before debating a few things behind the TV until it dulled down after a while.

Mia had fallen asleep beside him, curled up with her hoodie pulled over half her face.

Sofia appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, half smiling.

”She’ll twist her neck sleeping like that,” she whispered.

Leo looked over. ”She always does. Then she blames me.”

Sofia walked over and gently straightened the blanket across Mia’s shoulder.

”You should go to sleep too,” she said softly. ”You’ve had a long day.”

Leo stood slowly, stretching his arms. ”I will.”

He paused, reached into his jacket and pulled out a small white envelope.

He handed it to her without a word.

She looked at it, then back at him.

”What’s this?”

”My wages. From last month.”

Sofia opened it and blinked.

”Leo—this is... this is twenty thousand pounds.”

He didn’t answer. Just started backing toward the hallway.

”Why are you giving me this?” she asked, a little sharper now.

He turned and jogged the last few steps to his door.

”You’ll just argue,” he said quickly, twisting the handle.

”I—”

Leo ducked into the room, slammed it shut, and clicked the lock.

”I’ve got training,” he called through the door.

”And if you keep banging, Mia’s gonna wake up and start asking questions. You want that?”

There was a long silence.

Then a soft knock.

Sofia stood there for a few more seconds, still holding the envelope.

She just shook her head, quietly, and whispered into the hallway, ”You’re impossible.”

Behind the door, Leo sat on his bed, leaned back against the wall, and smiled to himself, eyes closed, as his heartbeat finally started to slow.

A/N: Had some free time have this one. See you later.

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