Prologue
The analysis office of Bastard Munchen was lit by glowing screens and real-time data charts.
In the middle of the technical silence, Leonhardt Weiss sat at a meeting table with a tablet in front of him. Colored lines soared upward on the panel—audience growth, social media interaction, viewership rates, percentage of new fans, and most of all, direct mentions of Bastard Munchen's Women's Team.
Beside him, a sharply dressed executive flipped through the slides with a nervous but pleased air.
"The numbers are… skyrocketing. Since Michelle Kaiser and Alexis Ness debuted on the women's team, we've seen a 280% spike in broadcast viewership. Clips are flooding all platforms. And the sponsors… well, they're thrilled. Some that only renewed deals with the men's team are now interested in the women's side too."
Leo barely looked up from the screen. He slid a finger across it, zooming in on one of the graphs.
The curve didn't lie.
"Of course they're thrilled," he said dryly.
The executive looked at him, hoping for a positive reaction. He didn't get one.
"A month ago, they weren't willing to invest another cent in the women's league. They said it wasn't profitable. That it was a 'risky bet.'" He clicked his tongue. "Now they're going to claim they believed in it from the beginning, right?"
The executive forced a tight smile.
"Well… business is unpredictable. You know how the market is."
Leo stared directly at him. His gray eyes gleamed with a calm, icy sharpness.
"No, it's not unpredictable. It's cowardly. Corporate pride kept them from admitting that two women were generating more attention than their entire marketing lineup. And now that Kaiser and Ness are blowing up the numbers… they'll come out and say they 'always had faith' in the project."
He looked back down at the tablet with a faint, ironic smirk.
"Hypocrites. But whatever. Money moves the world. So when they go public with that arrogant grin… let them. All that matters is they keep paying."
The executive stayed silent, unsure whether to nod or not.
Leo turned off the tablet screen and stood up.
"Oh—and tell the comms team to prep something for tomorrow. This match is going to break records again. And they'd better be ready when the internet explodes over Michelle's next impossible goal."
He walked out calmly, leaving the executive sweating among charts and uncomfortable truths.
The hallways of Bastard Munchen's training center were quiet, dimly lit with cold overhead lights.
The echo of footsteps bounced softly off the concrete walls.
Leonhardt Weiss walked out of the analysis office with a tablet under his arm and the club's jacket draped over his shoulders.
His pace was relaxed, but his expression thoughtful. He had spent over an hour reviewing the women's team's metrics—not just as a fan.
Turning a corner, he crossed paths with someone unmistakable.
Noel Noa, captain of the men's team and living legend, was headed toward the training field.
He was already suited up, jacket half-zipped.
Both stopped instinctively upon recognizing each other.
Noa spoke first, blunt as ever:
"What were you doing in the analysis room?"
Leo held his gaze without flinching.
"Watching how the women's team is making history."
Noa didn't reply right away, but it was clear he already knew.
"Stats aren't your responsibility."
Leo shrugged.
"No, but I'm curious. I like to know what drives the money. I wasn't a 100-million-euro transfer just for kicking a ball, you know?" He flashed a sideways grin. "They sold me because I had a cover-boy face and mannequin legs."
Noa remained stoic.
Leo continued:
"The brands are coming back like hyenas. The same ones who hesitated to invest in the women's league are now acting proud, saying they 'always believed' in Michelle Kaiser and Alexis Ness."
He tapped the edge of his tablet.
"I've seen the charts. They're exploding—audience numbers, social engagement, viral clips. The damn show's on."
Noa crossed his arms, unfazed.
"As long as they don't forget how to play, I don't care about the show."
Leo nodded with a knowing smirk.
"You play for perfection. So do I... but I also like watching the business behind it. In the end, we're playing the same game, Noa. You just see it in equations. I see it in price tags."
They passed each other like trains on opposite tracks.
But just before he walked out of earshot, Leo stopped and glanced over his shoulder.
"When Michelle pulls off another one of those impossible goals… and brands rush to buy her image rights... remember this: Talent starts it all. But money... money turns it into legend."
With a silent smile, Leo continued on toward the training field.
Noa, without turning, resumed his own path forward.
Two visions.
Two paths.
One team.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔•
The Bastard Munchen stadium roared with restrained energy.
The kickoff of the new Women's Bundesliga season was moments away, and every seat was filled. Cameras streamed live. Journalists, sponsors, and former skeptics watched with growing attention.
At the center of the field, beneath the floodlights casting an almost divine glow, Michelle Kaiser stood firm.
Black and dark blue uniform.
Long blonde hair, its ends dyed blue, fluttering in the breeze.
Eyes as blue as molten ice, fixed on the sky above.
She was the captain of Bastard Munchen Women's Team.
At her right stood Alexis Ness, the mind behind the invisible passes.
Loose wine-red hair, a serene face.
The heart of the team—though no one ever said it aloud.
Across from them, the Ubers players, dressed in white and red, stood in formation.
Cold. Elegant. Disciplined opponents.
A voice echoed through the loudspeakers.
The anthem.
While most players mouthed the lyrics faintly…
Michelle Kaiser sang.
Not with theatrical flair, but with steadiness. With conviction.
A nearby mic accidentally caught her voice, and the screens zoomed in on her face.
Still. Serious. Gaze fixed ahead.
A symbol no marketing team could have crafted more perfectly.
Cameras closed in.
"When you look at Kaiser, it feels like she's going to win—no matter who's on the other side," a sports journalist would write later.
The anthem ended.
The referee called the captains to the center.
The coin was tossed.
Ubers chose the side.
Michelle turned and walked to her starting position.
As she passed, Ness glanced sideways at her—with a mix of pride and admiration she still couldn't quite describe.
The crowd rose in cheers.
The new season had begun.
And with it… the era of Michelle Kaiser.
20th Minute – Bastard Munchen (0) vs Ubers (0)
The pace of the match was tense—like a high-level chess match.
Every attempt from Bastard Munchen was swallowed by Ubers' defensive block.
Precise. In sync. Cold as ice. Every pass from Ness, every cut from Michelle, met an immediate answer: A sprint, an interception, a clean slide tackle.
Murmurs began to grow in the stands.
"Where's the fire from the team everyone's talking about?"
"Ubers are shutting everything down…"
On the field, Michelle Kaiser clenched her teeth.
Frustration simmered beneath her skin—like static ready to explode.
From midfield, Alexis Ness raised her eyes.
A tight defense. No real space. But even so…
She sent a floated pass.
Not into space—directly to Michelle.
The ball drifted downward, almost hovering inches from the striker's boots.
The stadium held its breath.
Michelle didn't trap it.
She didn't fake.
She didn't pass.
She looked at the ball as if it were prey.
Took a strong step.
Charged forward.
And struck the ball with the outside of her right foot, the technique so precise it gave the ball a sharp lateral spin.
The sphere soared diagonally.
It looked headed for the right post…
But then it turned.
Changed direction at the last second—like a leaf cut by the wind.
The goalkeeper dove—too late.
The ball curved into the top left corner, brushing the net with a clean, sharp snap.
GOOOOOAL.
"GOOOOOAL FROM MICHELLE KAISER! AN ABSOLUTE STUNNER FROM MIDFIELD!"
"With spin! With feline precision! With caged fury!"
Cameras zoomed in on her face.
No wild celebration—only clenched fists and a lowered head.
As if she knew… this was just the beginning.
In the broadcast box, the commentators were ecstatic:
"You don't see strikes like that every day—not in the women's league. Not from that distance. That ball was poisoned!"
"That spin—so clean, so sharp—it changed in the air!"
"Michelle Kaiser doesn't just break defenses… she's rewriting the script of women's football!"
On Bastard Munchen's bench, substitutes jumped to their feet.
And at midfield, Ness allowed herself a small smile.
"She said she'd score… no matter what."
35th Minute – Bastard Munchen (1) vs Ubers (1)
The equalizer struck like a sudden storm.
Ubers, silent and calculated, found the perfect gap and executed a surgical counterattack to make it 1-1.
For a second, the entire stadium fell silent. The pride of Bastard Munchen Women's Team had just been pierced.
From that moment on, the visiting team doubled down on their defense.
Their objective was clear now: shut down Michelle Kaiser.
Double marking. Sometimes triple.
Every time Alexis Ness touched the ball, two defenders swarmed her.
And when she lifted her gaze to find Michelle—she was already walled off by red and white.
There was no direct line of connection.
But then came the 44th minute.
Just steps before being intercepted, Ness lobbed a pass—a soft chip, not too high, but precisely aimed.
It was heading for Michelle.
Ubers knew it.
The defense collapsed on her instantly, cutting off all shooting and passing options.
Michelle received the ball with her back to goal, about eight meters outside the box, completely boxed in.
The defenders thought:
"No space to turn. No pass available. She'll have to pull back."
Michelle glanced briefly down at the ball.
"Then I'll make it fly."
With a quick motion, she flicked the ball up with her right ankle, making it float in front of her.
She jumped.
Her body twisted in the air like a cyclone.
Her leg extended in perfect form—like a strike taken straight from taekwondo.
And the hit—was pure.
¡Impact!
The ball launched forward, spinning violently with aggressive curve.
It sailed between two defenders who couldn't react in time.
The goalkeeper tried to read the shot…
But the spin bent the ball at the last second, burying it into the bottom right corner.
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!
"WHAT DID MICHELLE KAISER JUST DO?!"
"THAT WASN'T A SHOT—THAT WAS A MARTIAL ARTS MOVE IN THE MIDDLE OF A MATCH!"
"WE ARE WITNESSING PURE HISTORY IN THE WOMEN'S BUNDESLIGA!"
Cameras captured every replay angle: The twist. The jump. The clean strike with the instep. The ball's bend in slow motion.
Michelle's impassive face after scoring.
Bastard Munchen's bench erupted.
And on social media, the clip was already going viral before the first half even ended.
Michelle, still calm, didn't celebrate wildly.
She only lowered her head, exhaled slowly…
And looked back toward midfield.
From afar, Alexis Ness was staring at her—caught between shock, respect, and the faintest hint of a smile.
"It wasn't just talent. It was danger—with style."
44th Minute. Bastard Munchen (2) – Ubers (1)
And the stadium was on fire.
Up in the observation box, with a panoramic view of the field, Leonhardt Weiss stood beside Noel Noa.
Both were watching the replay of Michelle Kaiser's second goal—over and over.
The twist, the jump, the strike. The crowd couldn't get enough. And online, the move already had a name:
"The Kaiser Kick."
Leo let out a small, nasal chuckle.
"She's not playing to be good. She's playing like she wants to conquer everything."
Noa didn't respond right away. He watched the screen, as calm as ever.
Leo's voice grew a bit more serious.
"You know how much she was paid when she signed with Bastard Munchen?"
Noa glanced at him sideways.
"A million."
Leo nodded, crossing his arms.
"One million euros for someone making more noise than our entire men's squad on social media this month."
"If she keeps this up all season… and wins the women's league…" He smiled sideways. "That contract's going to look like a donation."
Noa didn't say anything, but the agreement was written all over his expression.
"I'll bet you something, Noa," Leo added confidently. "If Michelle Kaiser wins this league, and tears it up like she's doing now… She'll be the first female soccer player to sign a fifty-million-euro salary."
Noa finally spoke, without looking away from the screen:
"If she keeps going… she won't just break the league. She'll break history."
Leo leaned back against the glass wall, gazing out at the pitch.
"And it all started with a Ness pass… and a kick straight out of taekwondo."
He laughed softly, eyes on the field—like he already knew what was coming next.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔•
Final Score: Bastard Munchen (4) – Ubers (2)
A hard-fought victory.
A well-deserved one.
And the perfect way to open the season.
In the stadium hallways, the media swarmed like bees.
Microphones, cameras, flashes—everyone wanted the same thing:
A word from Michelle Kaiser.
The star of the moment appeared in the mixed zone still in her sweat-soaked uniform, her long blonde hair tied in a low ponytail, the blue-dyed tips clinging to her neck.
Her gaze remained calm. Unshaken.
A reporter raised her voice above the crowd:
"Michelle! Your second goal has gone viral around the world! It looked like a martial arts move! Was it planned? Is that a technique you practice?"
Michelle glanced at her for just a second before replying in a neutral tone:
"I couldn't break through Ubers' defense easily. They were solid. Very well organized."
She paused, as if replaying the moment in her mind.
"At that moment… there was no pass. No gap. I thought… either I tried something different, or we wouldn't score."
She looked back at the press with indifference—without the emotion they expected.
"It was all or nothing."
Cameras captured her serious, almost bored expression—making her even more magnetic.
Another reporter shouted:
"How does it feel knowing your goal already has millions of views and is trending worldwide?"
Michelle simply answered:
"My job is to score goals. If people want to keep talking about it, let them."
And without another word, she turned and disappeared down the tunnel.
That clip would go viral online almost as fast as the goal itself.
"All or nothing."
"My job is to score goals."
Michelle Kaiser wasn't just playing in the Women's Bundesliga.
She was rewriting it.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔•
Night had fully fallen over Bastard Munchen's sports complex.
The private parking area was quiet, save for the distant hum of media drones circling the perimeter for exclusive shots.
Alexis Ness, still carrying her sports bag over her shoulder, walked calmly along the illuminated path.
Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the match's intensity, but her face radiated satisfaction.
Turning the corner of the stadium wall, she saw it.
A Mercedes-AMG CLE 53 Coupé.
Sleek black, aerodynamic, elegant, but with undeniable presence.
And more importantly—the custom license plate she knew well.
Leo.
The engine was still running.
As soon as he saw her, Leo stepped out from the driver's seat, circling the car with open arms and a bright smile.
"There's my star!" he said playfully, arms wide to welcome her.
Alexis couldn't help blushing. She glanced down briefly, then walked straight into his embrace.
She melted into his chest for a moment, and Leo wrapped her in a warm hug.
"You were spectacular tonight," he whispered close to her ear. "Those passes… it was like you knew where every player would be before they did."
Alexis giggled softly, her cheeks still pink.
"Thank you, Leo… I…" she looked up, her wine-colored eyes reflecting the soft parking lights, "I'm glad you're here."
Leo didn't reply immediately. He just lowered his head, and she rose on her toes.
A soft kiss. Slow. Warm.
The kind of kiss someone gives when they're proud of the person they love.
When they pulled apart, Leo brushed her cheek gently with his thumb.
"Come on. You've earned a hot dinner and a night without thinking about tactics."
Alexis nodded with a small smile.
They got into the car. The Mercedes interior was spacious and comfortable—black leather seats, soft blue ambient lighting.
As the engine purred to life and the car began to move, Leo glanced in the rearview mirror.
"Do you realize how far you're going to go?"
Alexis looked at him sideways, still a bit shy.
"Only if you're with me when I get there."
The engine rumbled smoothly as they pulled away from the stadium.
The city awaited.
And so did the future.