My Football Legends Chat Group-Chapter 93: Empty Throne

Thursday afternoon at the City Football Academy was usually a time for recovery shakes, massage tables, and Jack Grealish cheating at Uno.

The mood was light. They were Premier League champions, Community Shield winners, and Rio's shirt sales were funding the club's electricity bill for the next decade.

Rio was sitting in the players' lounge, legs elevated in compression boots. He was half-listening to Phil Foden explain why he needed a new tattoo of a wizard on his neck.

"It's symbolism, Rio," Phil insisted, gesturing with a piece of toast. "Magic. Like my touch. Get it?"

"I get it, Phil," Rio laughed, scrolling idly on his phone. "But maybe don't put it on your neck. You'll look like a soundcloud rapper."

"What's wrong with—"

BUZZ.

Rio's phone vibrated.

Then Phil's phone buzzed.

Then Jack's. Then Erling's.

Across the room, the large TV screen mounted on the wall, which was playing muted Sky Sports News, suddenly flashed a bright, urgent red.

BREAKING NEWS.

The chatter in the room died. One by one, the City players looked up. The Uno cards were dropped. The protein shakes were lowered.

The headline scrolled across the bottom of the screen in bold, capital letters.

LIONEL MESSI ANNOUNCES IMMEDIATE RETIREMENT FROM PROFESSIONAL FOOTBALL.

For a moment, nobody breathed. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

"No fucking way," Grealish whispered, standing up. "He can't. He's... he's Messi."

Rio stared at the screen. Footage was playing—a montage of the little Argentine weaving through defenders, lifting the World Cup, crying at the press conference in Barcelona.

It wasn't a rumor. It wasn't a leak. It was a statement.

"I have completed football. My body is tired. My heart is full. It is time to rest."

Erling Haaland, usually the most emotionless man in Manchester, let out a long, heavy sigh. He looked at his own boots, then at the screen.

"The King is gone," Haaland said, his robotic voice unusually soft.

The Media Tremble

Ten minutes later, the calm of the training ground was shattered.

Leo Lance burst into the lounge. He wasn't wearing his usual sharp suit. His tie was undone, his hair was a mess, and he looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Rio!" Leo gasped, grabbing a chair and dragging it over. "Rio! Did you see? Did you see the markets?"

"I saw the news, Leo," Rio said quietly. "It's sad."

"Sad? It is an earthquake!" Leo waved his phone, which was exploding with notifications. "Nike stock is dropping! Adidas is panicking! The MLS broadcast deal just lost 40% of its value in ten minutes!"

Leo looked around the room, his eyes wide.

"Do you understand what this means, hermano? The throne! It is empty! For fifteen years, it was Messi and Ronaldo. Now? The vacuum! It is a black hole!"

"Relax, Leo," Kevin De Bruyne said from the corner, sipping an espresso. "Football continues. It always continues."

"But the brand!" Leo argued, sweating. "The world needs a new face! Mbappé is in Madrid, yes. Haaland is here. But who is the next artist? Who makes the people feel things?"

Leo slowly turned his head. He looked at Rio.

Rio felt a chill go down his spine.

"Don't look at me like that," Rio warned.

"The timing," Leo whispered. "You sell 200,000 shirts. You do the 'Artist' celebration. And three days later... the greatest artist retires."

"Leo, stop."

"I am just saying," Leo leaned in, his voice trembling with opportunity. "The narrative writes itself. The King leaves. The Prince rises."

Rio stood up. He felt sick. Not because of the pressure, but because of the reality.

He had grown up watching Messi. He had modeled his dribbling on those low-center-of-gravity runs. To think about filling those boots was... it was impossible.

"I need some air," Rio muttered.

He walked out of the lounge, leaving the millionaires staring at the TV screen in silence.

The Garden Sanctuary

Rio drove back to The Oaks early. Pep had cancelled the afternoon tactical session. "Go home," the manager had said, looking visibly shaken. "Watch the clips. Appreciate the history. We work tomorrow."

Rio sat on the stone wall at the bottom of his garden. The rain had stopped, leaving the grass damp and vibrant green.

His dad, Carlos, walked out. He was carrying two mugs of tea.

Carlos sat down next to him. He didn't say anything for a long time.

"I remember when Maradona retired," Carlos said finally, staring at the oak tree. "I cried for two days. My father slapped me and told me to be a man. Then he went to the bathroom and cried too."

Rio managed a small smile. "Are you crying, Dad?"

"A little bit," Carlos admitted, taking a sip of tea. "It feels like... like growing old. When your heroes stop running, you realize time does not stop."

"Leo thinks it's an opportunity," Rio said, kicking a loose stone. "He thinks because I sold some shirts, I can take his place."

Carlos laughed. A warm, grounding sound.

"Leo is a shark. He sees blood in the water. But you know the truth, Rio."

"What truth?"

"Nobody replaces Messi. You cannot replace the sun."

Carlos put a hand on Rio's knee.

"You are not the next Messi. You are the first Rio Lance. And that is enough."

Rio looked at his dad. The tension in his chest loosened.

"Thanks, Dad."

"But," Carlos winked. "If you want to score a hat-trick against Burnley on Friday just to make sure... I won't complain."

The Chat Room of Legends

That night, the world was mourning. Social media was a flood of "Thank You Leo" posts.

Rio lay in his bed, the darkness of the room heavy around him.

He opened the app.

The icons were glowing. The Legends were online.

[Chat Room Active]

The_King: So. The Flea has finally landed.

Total_Football_14: It was time. I watched his last game. The mind was still sharp, faster than light. But the legs... they were heavy. He gave everything to the game. He owes us nothing.

Zizou_5: I remember playing against him when he was a boy. He was shy. He didn't speak. He just took the ball and humiliated grown men. It was terrifying.

Rio_7: It feels weird. Like the game is smaller today.

Total_Football_14: The game is not smaller, Rio. It is just... quieter. The conductor has put down the baton.

The_King: And now? The media trembles. They run around like headless chickens looking for the next god.

Rio_7: My brother says it's a "vacuum".

Zizou_5: It is. And it is dangerous. The world will look at Vinicius, at Kylian, at Erling... and at you. They will demand magic. They will demand that you be Him.

Rio_7: I can't be him.

Total_Football_14: Good. Because if you try to play like Messi, you will fail. You do not have his low center of gravity. You do not have his pause.

The_King: You are different. You are raw speed. You are arrogance. You are a missile. Be the Missile.

Zizou_5: But learn from him, Rio. Do you know why he was the best?

Rio_7: Because of his talent?

Zizou_5: No. Everyone at this level has talent. He was the best because he never hid. Even when they kicked him. Even when he lost three finals with Argentina. Even when the world called him a failure.

Zizou_5: He asked for the ball.

The_King: That is the lesson. When the stadium is burning, ask for the ball.

Rio stared at the screen. Ask for the ball.

Rio_7: Burnley away. Friday night. It's going to be hostile.

The_King: Hostile? Turf Moor is a boxing ring. They will not care about Messi retiring. They will care about breaking your ankles. It is the perfect place to start the new era.

Total_Football_14: Go to sleep, Rio. The era of Messi is over. The era of Lance begins on Friday.

The Next Morning

Rio woke up. The sun was shining.

The heavy feeling was gone. The sadness of the retirement had settled into a quiet respect.

He drove the McLaren to training.

When he walked into the locker room, the mood had shifted. The mourning was over. The focus had returned. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Pep was standing by the tactics board. He erased the previous notes.

He wrote one word in the center of the board.

BURNLEY.

"Okay," Pep said, turning to face them. "Leo Messi is resting on a beach in Miami. We are not on a beach. We are going to Lancashire."

Pep looked at Rio.

"The world is sad," Pep said. "They want to be entertained. They want to remember why they love this game."

Pep threw a bib at Rio.

"Rio. You start on Friday."

Rio caught the bib.

"Make them smile," Pep ordered.

Rio gripped the fabric.

"I will."

[System Notification]

[Event: The Changing of the Guard]

[Global Football Morale: LOW]

[Mission Updated: Premier League Debut]

[Objective: Bring the Spark back.]

[Reward: The 'Next Gen' Trait]