Lord of Entertainment

Chapter 162: My skills

Chapter 162: My skills

(3rd Person POV)

~Four Days Later~

With the Quidditch scenes wrapped and most of Wales' location shots completed, production would soon move to Horn Kingdom for studio work at Hellfire VFX. But Arthur wasn't quite finished in Wales - he had his sights set on the football stadium they'd just used for filming.

At Dragons Keep Stadium's office, Arthur faced Lord Evan D'Arcy across an aged oak desk.

"You want to buy my stadium?" Lord Evan's eyebrows shot up, his monocle slipping slightly.

"Yes," Arthur confirmed. "I've developed a keen interest in football lately."

Evan smoothed his powdered wig, letting out a derisive snort. "A sudden interest in football? Please." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "You're planning to turn this into another tourist trap once your film releases, aren't you? Renovate it, dress it up, and profit from the crowds coming to see where your great film was filmed!"

Arthur blinked, caught off guard. He couldn't deny using similar tactics before - the Corleone villas and resorts in Horn Kingdom were still drawing Demonfather fans and turning a healthy profit.

"This is different," Arthur insisted. "I genuinely want to make football popular again."

"Popular?" Evan barked out a laugh. "The sport's been stagnant for centuries. What makes you think you can change that?"

"I know you love football," Arthur pressed. "Selling to me would be the best thing for the sport's future."

Evan fell silent, considering. Finally, his shoulders sagged. "Truth is, this place bleeds money. Only my love for the game keeps it running." He fixed Arthur with a stern gaze. "If I sell, I want your word this stays a football stadium. No turning it into some carnival attraction."

"Deal." Arthur extended his hand. "We'll put it in writing."

"Deal," Evan clasped Arthur's hand firmly, sealing their agreement with a handshake.

***

Within days of purchasing Dragons Keep Stadium, Arthur acquired a struggling football team from Blackwood Industries. The company chairman, another football purist, only agreed to sell after Arthur signed ironclad contracts promising to preserve and develop the team.

These football enthusiasts' dedication both amused and impressed Arthur. Their passionate oddity seemed to stem from genuine love for the game.

To implement his planned reforms, Arthur needed control of Wales' local tournaments and leagues. His acquisition team was deep in negotiations, though the outcomes remained uncertain. Each meeting brought new conditions and complications to navigate.

Now Arthur stood on Dragons Keep's restored pitch - all traces of the Quidditch filming removed, leaving just the pristine grass, regulation goal posts, and a single football. Before him stood the young players of Wales Dragon FC.

Arthur surveyed the assembled players of Wales Dragon FC. Most were young scholars, their education funded by their participation on the team. Playing football wasn't just recreation for them - it was their lifeline to higher education, a path toward opportunities they couldn't otherwise afford.

The team's nervousness was palpable as they faced their new boss. They'd all seen the television footage of Arthur dispatching Genesis Whitlock with a single strike. That display had shattered any notion of him being the weak, magic-less demon from the rumors.

Arthur drew himself up like a battle-hardened general addressing his troops. "As you're aware, I now own this team. Your scholarships and support will continue under my leadership." His eyes met each player's gaze in turn. "You all have talent and understand the basics, but what I'm about to teach you will transform how you play this game."

The players exchanged skeptical glances at Arthur's bold claim. Transform how they play football? Their new boss, a demon who'd never shown any connection to the sport, thought he could revolutionize their game?

'What could this demon possibly know about football?' Rhys scoffed internally. As the team's star player, he took particular offense at the suggestion.

"You know football, boss?" Dafydd voiced the doubt they all shared.

Arthur's smile widened at their skepticism. He placed his foot atop the ball with casual confidence. "I find demonstrations more convincing than explanations." In one fluid motion, he flicked the ball up, juggling it from knee to shoulder before letting it roll smoothly back to his foot.

The players remained unimpressed by this basic display, but Arthur was just warming up.

He launched into a series of moves that left them stunned - the ball seemed to dance between his feet as he executed perfect step-overs, followed by a rainbow flick that arced over his head. He caught it with his chest, killed its momentum instantly, then rolled it across his shoulders before catching it with his heel.

The players stood transfixed, having never seen such controlled manipulation of the ball.

"Well?" Arthur asked, noting their shocked expressions.

Rhys broke the spell, stepping forward. "Fancy tricks don't win matches," he declared, his voice carrying a challenging edge.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the young man's boldness in confronting his new boss.

"If you think you know so much about football," Rhys continued, squaring his shoulders, "let's settle this one-on-one."

The other players held their breath at this audacious challenge, but Arthur's smile only grew wider.

Arthur assessed Rhys with a knowing smile. 'Perfect - once I beat the team's star, the rest will fall in line.'

"Let's do this," he agreed readily.

At exactly three in the afternoon, under the warm sun, they took their positions. Rhys started with the ball, attempting to slip past Arthur with a subtle enhancement spell. To his shock, Arthur stripped the ball from him with effortless precision.

"Incredible..." Aidan breathed from his position as Arthur's temporary keeper.

At the opposite end, Owen took his stance, muscles tensed and ready. As the team's premier goalkeeper, he'd built his confidence on never being caught off guard. Sure, Arthur showed fancy footwork, but scoring required a different skill set entirely.

Owen activated his enhancement magic, a shimmer of power coating his hands.

Arthur approached the ball with calculated precision, setting up for what appeared to be a straightforward shot.

Instead, he executed a perfect Knuckleball kick - a technique from his previous life. The ball launched forward with minimal spin, its trajectory appearing deceptively simple.

Owen watched the approaching shot with growing confidence. 'No magic enhancement, barely any power behind it. The ball's coming straight at me.' His hands tensed, ready for an easy catch.

But as the ball neared, it suddenly began its erratic dance through the air, shifting unpredictably in its flight path. Owen's eyes widened as the ball swerved sharply away from his outstretched fingers.

The impact of leather against net echoed through the silent stadium!

Owen stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. Without magic or enhanced power, Arthur had somehow made the ball move in a way he'd never seen before.

Rhys and Aidan stood dumbfounded, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"What just happened?" Rhys muttered, his confidence shaken. Suspicion crept into his thoughts - was Owen throwing the match to please their new boss? Or had fear of Arthur's reputation affected his performance?

Rhys stormed over to Owen. "Come on, man! Are you even trying? Don't tell me you're letting him win!"

"You don't understand," Owen replied, still staring at where the ball had curved past him. "I swear it was coming straight at me!"

Rhys's accusation died in his throat as Owen described the ball's impossible movement.

"It's called a knuckleball," Arthur explained, joining them. "The shot's path is deliberately unpredictable - even I can't be certain where it'll end up."

"Never heard of such a technique," Rhys said, skepticism clear in his voice.

Arthur chuckled inwardly. 'Of course you haven't. This technique comes from a world you've never known.'

"Let's continue," Arthur suggested, returning to position.

The rest of the match proved even more one-sided. Arthur dominated completely, scoring three more times to finish 4-0. With each goal, the watching team's expressions shifted from doubt to amazement.

Rhys, their star player, hadn't stood a chance. Arthur had outmaneuvered him at every turn, demonstrating a mastery of the game none of them had witnessed before.

"Convinced now?" Arthur asked the assembled players, noting how differently they looked at him - respect replacing their earlier skepticism.

The team nodded eagerly, ready to learn whatever this unexpected football master could teach them.

After several hours of training, the team departed with their heads swimming with new knowledge. Arthur knew it would take time before they fully grasped the complete version of football he envisioned, but they'd made a promising start.

Walking alone after practice, Arthur caught a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision. Genesis Whitlock stood at a distance, ducking behind a wall the moment Arthur turned his way.

Arthur sighed heavily. 'First those Skull Organization operatives trailing me for days, now this kid's playing amateur spy.'

Unknown to Arthur, Genesis's heart was racing behind his hiding spot. His parents had given him clear instructions to convince Arthur to become his martial arts instructor, but after their last encounter, he couldn't muster the courage to make a direct approach.