Parallel Universe AX-0089X.
On July 30, 2025, in the salt-stained coastal town of Bournemouth, the Vitality Stadium stood like a crumbling relic, its weathered stands and faded red seats mocking its past glory. Viktor Randall, 45, his tailored suit wrinkled from sleepless nights, paced the touchline. The pitch, once electrified by 11,000 AFC Bournemouth fans, lay silent, reeking of damp grass and despair.
Viktor's phone buzzed—creditor number fifteen today. He ignored it. A court order pinned to his office door screamed the truth: the Cherries were bankrupt. Debts of £200 million—£150 million to Atlantic Finance for a botched stadium expansion loan, £35 million to suppliers and HMRC, £15 million in unpaid wages to players and staff. Ninety days without pay. Ninety days of broken trust.
"How did I mess this up?" Viktor muttered, kicking a pebble into the shadows.
In 2022, Viktor, a real estate tycoon with a fortune built on London skyscrapers, bought AFC Bournemouth for £300 million, dreaming of turning the mid-table Premier League side into a European force. He'd splashed £120 million on signings like Carlos Ferreira, a Brazilian striker with a £5 million salary and a knack for missing open goals. The fans—Bournemouth's shopkeepers, fishermen, dreamers—expected trophies. Instead, over three years, the Cherries fought relentless relegation battles, their wage bill choking the club's finances.
Last week, the Premier League Board docked the Cherries 12 points for breaching Profitability and Sustainability Rules (PSR), a penalty that made relegation to the EFL Championship all but certain before the 2025-26 season's August 9 kickoff. The court appointed Stone & Partners as administrators to oversee liquidation unless Viktor cleared the debts by August 9, the deadline for the Premier League's mandatory 25-man squad list. No list, no league—the Cherries would be erased.
Viktor had fought back. He sold his Mayfair penthouse, Cotswolds estate, and vintage car collection, raising £200 million. He paid every creditor—£15 million to players and coaches, £150 million to the bank, £35 million to suppliers. But the players, owed three months' wages, invoked FIFA's Article 14bis, terminating their contracts. Ferreira joined Tottenham Hotspur for £40 million. Coach James Carter took £5 million in severance and walked. By August 1, the Cherries had no players, no coaches, and £500,000 left—barely enough for a month's utilities.
Clara, Viktor's assistant, emerged from the tunnel, clipboard in hand. At 42, her sharp eyes and tight ponytail radiated defiance. "The Premier League called," she said, voice flat. "Squad list by August 9, or we're expelled."
"Clara, we've got nobody," Viktor said, rubbing his temples.
"Figure it out," she snapped, arms crossed. "You're the owner."
He'd tried. Bournemouth University's football team scoffed at his £10,000-a-week offer—"Play for a dead club? No way." Local secondary schools had talent, but most kids were under 16, too young for Premier League contracts. Amateur leagues demanded salaries he couldn't afford. On X, #CherriesDoomed trended, with memes of Viktor as a clown torching the club's legacy.
The sun sank, casting long shadows. Viktor stood, keys jangling, ready for another night of whiskey and regret, when a blinding light flashed. A glowing orb, football-sized, hovered above the center circle, pulsing with electric blue energy.
A mechanical voice echoed in his mind: "Viktor Randall, owner of AFC Bournemouth. I am the Ultimate Football System. I can save your club."
Viktor froze, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat. The glowing orb hovered, pulsing softly in the silence.
"I offer a chance to rebuild," the voice said, smooth and metallic.
Viktor took a step back. "What the hell are you?"
"I am the Ultimate Football System. Select a parallel universe, extract the talents of its greatest footballers, and transfer them to players in your world."
Viktor's mind reeled. This was madness. But so was his reality—he had lost his fortune, his team, his pride.
"…Prove it," he whispered, voice hoarse.
"Choose a universe."
Viktor blinked. "Which universe has the highest football standard?"
"Universe AX-0072X. For example, their 2022 World Cup champions, Argentina, could easily defeat your England champions five-nil."
Viktor barked a bitter laugh. "Yeah? Take me there."
"Confirmed. I will present you with a list of the strongest players from the past two decades. Where shall we begin?"
"Strikers," Viktor said, without hesitation.
"Position confirmed. Universe AX-0072X. Transit initiated."
The orb pulsed violently, erupting into a blinding flash. Light swallowed Viktor whole. The Vitality Stadium dissolved around him, and his world faded into white.