Racing Santander officially announced Michael Felix's arrival on Twitter:
Real Racing Club 🟢⚪️ @RealRacingClub · 2h
Hello, fans! 👋
Real Racing Club de Santander has reached an agreement with free agent Michael Felix. Michael has signed with Racing Santander until the end of the 2018/19 season and will represent the club as our new goalkeeper. 🧤⚽️
Michael Felix was born on January 1, 1990, in Liaoning, China. 🇨🇳
Michael, welcome to your new home! We wish you massive success at the club! 💚🏟️
------------
After the initial drop, Racing Santander rapid-fired several more signing announcements.
The second the news hit the timeline, the fans completely flooded the replies.
SantanderUltra99 @SantanderUltra · 1h Replying to @RealRacingClub Brilliant! Every part of the squad has been strengthened. I really hope we can bring back the glory days! 🏆
VamosRacing @VamosRacing_ · 1h Replying to @RealRacingClub Let's get back to La Liga! VAMOS! 🚀🔥
PessimistPaco @Paco_RS_Hater · 54m Replying to @RealRacingClub I'm not that optimistic, honestly. We don't even have a real star in the team! It's just a bunch of randoms! 🙄👎
The fans argued back and forth under the post in typical toxic Twitter fashion.
But since the Segunda División had practically no clout in Asia, and the Chinese FA and mainstream media back home had effectively blacklisted and buried all news regarding Michael, almost no one in China even knew that a Chinese player had bagged a contract with a Spanish second-division club.
...
A week later, it was showtime.
Michael and the rest of the new meat attended their official unveiling at El Sardinero.
The stadium wasn't a massive colosseum—capping out at a modest capacity of 22,251—but by the time the players walked out of the tunnel, every single seat was packed to the rafters.
The stadium DJ was going absolutely nuts, leading the crowd in a massive Mexican wave.
It was instantly clear that Santander's supporters were a fiercely united, hardcore bunch.
As the new signings stepped onto the pitch, the DJ's roaring voice and the deafening cheers of twenty-two thousand fans sent the players' adrenaline straight through the roof.
One by one, they felt their blood boil; a few of the guys were practically losing themselves in the electric atmosphere.
They were all young, hungry, and they could barely wait to show off their talent and stamp their names into the club's history.
"Let's welcome our new goalkeeper————MICHAEL! FELIX!"
Michael stood in front of a temporary goal set up right in the middle of the pitch.
Staring down the balls fired by a mechanical shooting machine, he stretched his body, moved sharply, and pulled off several genuinely high-quality saves as his first live exhibition for the fans.
Over the past week, under the brutal, relentless guidance of the club's goalkeeping coaches, Michael had aggressively grinded his fundamentals.
At the absolute bare minimum, his positioning, diving technique, and reaction times had finally leveled up to meet the basic standards expected of a pro.
He no longer looked like a complete amateur out there.
Amid the roaring cheers of the crowd, every new player stepped up to the mic to give a bold speech.
On an occasion like this, only massive, chest-thumping declarations of commitment were going to satisfy both the ultras and the club's leadership.
When it was Michael's turn, he grabbed the mic and spoke with unwavering confidence.
"I came here to win trophies. As long as I'm standing in that box, I will not let the opponent score easily. Let's fight together and drag Santander back to its former glory!"
As Michael dropped the final line of his speech, the atmosphere inside the stadium completely exploded.
The cheers and chants echoed endlessly, refusing to die down for a long time.
...
The next day, the team kicked off their pre-match training.
8.30 in the morning.
Racing Santander training base.
After inhaling his breakfast in the canteen, Raul was prepping to head up to the general manager's office to hash out a few matters.
But as he strolled past the main training pitch, he suddenly heard the distinct, rhythmic thud of a ball being struck.
When he moved closer to peek through the fence, he realized it was Michael, out there early, grinding out practice saves.
'This kid really is a workhorse,' Raul thought to himself. 'Talented and actually willing to put in the heavy effort. Looks like I've actually found a gem this time.'
Right then and there, Raul made up his mind.
Today, he was going to use Michael as a glaring example for the rest of the squad.
He would include the kid in tomorrow's matchday squad, just to shove it in the faces of the lazy veterans and show everyone what a proper attitude looked like.
After watching approvingly for a few more minutes, Raul headed straight to the office.
By the time he came back out, the assistant coach had already dragged the rest of the players into the grueling daily training session.
Michael was busy practicing saves against long-range bombs, and the forward relentlessly firing them at him was none other than Miguel—the exact same striker who had tried that cheeky backheel flick on him during the trial match.
"Michael, I just don't get it," Miguel panted after easily blasting two shots in a row past him.
"Your triple save the other day was straight-up ridiculous, so why is your save rate trash today? Are you just having an off day?"
"Miguel, it's not that I'm off form, mate. It's that you're just in amazing form," Michael replied smoothly, not missing a beat.
"Those two shots were absolute worldies! I promise you, not many keepers in this league would have kept those out."
Michael's shameless wave of flattery left Miguel floating on cloud nine.
In truth, Michael simply wanted to hoard his ability.
Here was the catch: if he blew his time-rewind ability on a random given day, no matter how much or how little of the sixty seconds he used, the whole thing would reset and none of it would carry over into the next day.
But, if he completely held back and didn't use it at all, his stored time the next day would actually stack and exceed one minute.
As for the maximum limit of how much time he could hoard? Michael hadn't quite figured that out yet.
That was exactly why he wasn't about to blow his magic trick casually blocking training shots.
After all, he still couldn't realistically compete with the club's highly respected veteran goalkeeper, Mario.
No matter how many superhuman saves he pulled off in practice, Raul wasn't going to just hand him the starting spot right away.
Instead of wasting his cheat code now, he might as well save it up and unleash it when he actually stepped onto the pitch for a real match.
A god-tier ability had to be deployed at the exact right moment.
And if you were going to show off, you had to pick the perfect stage!
That was Michael's life philosophy.
...
At three in the afternoon, pre-match training finally wrapped up.
Everyone huddled up, anxiously waiting for tomorrow's matchday squad announcement.
Raul walked out, tightly gripping his tactics notebook.
In a split second, every player's eyes burned holes into the "holy book" in Raul's hand.
For half the guys standing there, whatever was scribbled on those pages would literally dictate their fate for the weekend.
"I'll announce the players selected for tomorrow's squad, as well as my starting eleven," Raul barked.
"Forward line: Koné! Miguel! Morandi!"
The club's star attacker and the two forwards who had been sweating blood in training were named as starters.
Nobody even blinked, there were no objections.
"Midfield: Granero! Aranzana! Moreno!"
The regular starters. Everyone fully expected them to make the cut.
"Defence: Francis! Fernández! Seth! Oriol!"
The backline, anchored by their captain.
It was definitely worth noting that Oriol, as a brand-new signing, hadn't exactly set the world on fire during the practice match.
However, his physical recovery speed was downright freakish, and Raul had essentially converted the guy into a full-back on the fly.
Since the club's actual full-backs were currently injured, Oriol had been forcefully shoved straight into the starting lineup out of pure necessity.
Oriol was a Ghanaian tank straight out of the Atlético Madrid academy.
Whenever the guy flashed his massive, bright smile, Michael couldn't help but feel that the name 'Oriol' suited him a little too well.
"Goalkeeper: Mario!"
The club's veteran servant.
The guy's spot was untouchable, practically carved in stone.
"Now I'll announce the substitutes: Fede, Borja, Óscar..."
As one player after another had his name called, the atmosphere grew suffocating. The mood of the guys who hadn't been selected grew heavier by the second.
They had all trained their asses off, yet some of them still couldn't even sniff the bench.
Compared to the anxiety radiating off the guys around him, Michael looked chill as a cucumber.
After all, he was literally the only backup goalkeeper on the roster.
If Raul didn't take him, who the hell else was he going to take? A training cone?
Still, Michael was a low-key guy by nature.
Or rather, he was a total expert at acting harmless and blending in.
So, after glancing left and right at the sweating players, he deliberately forced a look of biting-nails nervousness onto his face.
Coincidentally, Raul's sharp gaze landed on him at that exact moment.
Raul was extremely satisfied with Michael's nervous reaction.
'Young players are always like that,' Raul thought. 'Who doesn't want a chance to prove themselves on the big stage?'
"The final spot..." Raul paused for dramatic effect. "Michael Felix!"
Everyone turned to look at him.
In the middle of the crowd, Oriol aggressively pumped his fist.
During that chaotic training match, Michael had basically saved him from a total disaster, so seeing the kid make the squad left Oriol genuinely hyped.
"I want to emphasize something to all of you," Raul continued, his voice hardening. "Michael may be new, but he is extremely hardworking. He was out there training early this morning while some of you were still scratching your asses in bed, and that is exactly why he has been included in the squad. I expect all of you to learn from him and show me your attitude. Under me, if your ability isn't enough, you can learn. But if your attitude is shit, then get the hell out early. Dismissed!"
"Yes, Coach!" the squad echoed.
As the huddle broke up, Raul deliberately kept an eye on Michael.
To his complete surprise, Michael didn't look like a hyperactive kid who had just made his first squad.
Instead, he simply turned and walked calmly toward the dressing room, carrying himself like a cold-blooded veteran who had survived a hundred battles!
"What a strange kid," Raul murmured under his breath, shaking his head.