The world was white. Then it was noisy. Then it was bright.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The sll of disinfectant was overwhelming. It was the sa sll as the hospital room where Alex Finch had died. But it was also different. It was sharper. Newer.
Alex opened his eyes.
He tried to sit up, but his body wouldn't obey. His arms flailed. His legs kicked.
He looked at his hands. They were tiny. Pink. Wrinkled.
He tried to speak. "Where am I?"
What ca out was: "Waaaaaah!"
A giant face lood over him. It was a woman. She had kind eyes and tired lines around her mouth.
"Shh, Leon," she whispered. "It is okay. Mummy is here."
Leon.
The na hit him like a lightning bolt.
He wasn't Alex Finch anymore. He wasn't the old man who died peacefully surrounded by friends.
He was back.
Back to the beginning of Life Two.
He was Leon Fischer. The boy who woke up with a second chance.
But this ti, he rembered everything.
He rembered Danein Blake dying in the mud. He rembered Alex Finch winning the World Cup. He rembered Mark eating pizza on the roof.
He rembered the blue screen. The choice.
Did I choose this? he wondered. Or is the universe just pressing replay?
Suddenly, the blue screen appeared. It hovered in the air above his crib, invisible to his mother.
[SYSTEM REBOOT SUCCESSFUL.]
[WELCO BACK, USER: LEON FISCHER.]
[SAVE FILE LOADED: NEW GA PLUS.]
[RETAINED SKILLS: TACTICAL AWARENESS (LEGENDARY), NTAL FORTITUDE (MAX), PIZZA APPRECIATION (HIGH).]
[PHYSICAL STATUS: BABY (LEVEL 0).]
Alex (or Leon now) stared at the screen.
"New Ga Plus," he gurgled.
That ant harder enemies. Better loot. And the chance to do it all again.
But this ti, he knew the secrets. He knew the future.
He knew that in ten years, he would et a boy nad Mark who ran like the wind. He knew he would et Rico who danced with the ball.
He smiled. A toothless, gummy smile.
"Look at him," his mother said to a man standing next to her. His father. "He is smiling already."
"He looks smart," his father said. "Maybe he will be a doctor."
"Or a scientist," his mother said.
"Or a footballer," Leon tried to say, but it ca out as "Pfffft."
Ti Skip: 5 Years Later.
The local park in Berlin.
It was a cold autumn day. The leaves were brown and crunchy.
Leon Fischer stood on the touchline of a small, muddy pitch. He was five years old. He was wearing a baggy t-shirt and shorts that went down to his knees.
Other kids were running around, chasing a ball in a swarm. It was "beehive football". Everyone wanted the ball. Nobody passed.
Leon didn't run. He watched.
He saw the patterns. Even at five years old, the geotry of the ga was clear to him.
"Leon!" his coach shouted. A nice man nad Herr Müller who wore a tracksuit from the 1980s. "Run! Get the ball!"
Leon shook his head. "Inefficient," he whispered.
He waited.
The ball popped out of the swarm. It rolled towards him.
A big kid, maybe seven years old, ca running at him.
"Mine!" the big kid yelled.
Leon didn't panic. He had faced Van Dijk. He had faced Casemiro. A seven-year-old was nothing.
Leon put his foot on the ball. He waited for the kid to lunge.
Then, he did a "La Croqueta". A tiny, baby-sized La Croqueta.
He shifted the ball from his right foot to his left.
The big kid ran past him and fell into a pile of leaves.
"Whoa," Herr Müller muttered.
Leon looked up. He saw the goal. It was just two jumpers on the grass.
He saw the goalkeeper. A kid who was busy picking his nose.
Leon calculated the trajectory.
He kicked the ball. It wasn't powerful. He had tiny legs. But it was accurate.
It rolled slowly. It hit a bump. It bobbled.
It rolled between the jumpers.
Goal.
Leon didn't celebrate. He just adjusted his socks.
"Calculated," he thought.
Suddenly, he heard a noise from the playground next to the pitch.
"VROOOOM!"
A kid was running in circles around the slide. He was wearing a cape made of a plastic bag. He was making car noises.
"I AM A FERRARI!" the kid scread. "I AM SPEED!"
Leon froze.
He knew that voice. He knew that energy.
He walked over to the fence.
"Hey," Leon said.
The kid stopped running. He had ssy hair and sauce on his shirt.
"Hello," the kid said. "I am Mark. I am fast."
Leon's heart skipped a beat.
It was him. Mark. His best friend.
But Mark was German?
"You are Mark?" Leon asked.
"Markus," the kid corrected. "But Mark is faster to say. Saves ti."
Leon laughed. It was the sa logic. The sa Mark.
"Do you like pizza?" Leon asked. The ultimate test.
Mark's eyes widened. "I love pizza! It is the fuel of champions! But my mum says I have to eat vegetables. Vegetables are slow food. Pizza is fast food!"
"I am Leon," Leon said. "I play football."
"I play running!" Mark said. "Can I run in football?"
"Yes," Leon smiled. "You run. I pass."
"Okay!" Mark agreed. "But I also want to be the captain of snacks."
"Deal."
And just like that, the team was reforming.
5 Years Later. Age 10.
The Academy Trials.
It was the day it all started. The day Leon Fischer was "discovered".
In the original tiline, this was where the System activated. Where he realized he was special.
But this ti, he already knew.
He stood in line with a hundred other kids. They were nervous. They were juggling balls, trying to show off.
Leon stood still. He was visualizing the ga.
He looked around.
Mark was there. He was wearing neon boots that were too big for him.
"These boots have air in them!" Mark whispered to Leon. "Aerodynamics!"
"They are just big, Mark," Leon said.
"Space for speed!" Mark insisted.
And there was another kid. A boy with curly hair who was dancing with the ball.
Rico. Or, in this tiline, Ricardo.
He was Brazilian-German. He had moved to Berlin last year.
"Samba!" Ricardo shouted, balancing the ball on his head. "Look at !"
"He is a show-off," Mark grumbled. "But he has good rhythm."
The coaches blew the whistle.
"Okay! 5 vs 5! Show us what you got!"
Leon, Mark, and Ricardo were put on the sa team.
It was unfair.
It was like putting ssi, Mbappe, and Neymar in a Sunday league ga.
The ga started.
Leon got the ball.
He saw Mark making a run.
"Go!" Leon shouted.
Mark engaged the thrusters. He ran past the defenders like they were statues.
Leon hit a perfect through ball.
Mark collected it. He was one on one.
He tripped over his big boots.
He fell.
But as he fell, he poked the ball.
It rolled into the net.
Goal.
"TACTICAL FALL!" Mark scread from the ground. "I CONFUSED THE KEEPER!"
Leon laughed. So things never changed.
Then, Ricardo got the ball.
He did a stepover. Then another. Then he spun.
He passed to Leon.
Leon didn't need to look. He knew where the goal was.
He curled it into the bottom corner.
The coaches were writing furiously on their clipboards.
Who are these kids?
After the ga, the Head Scout walked over.
"You three," the Scout said. "Nas?"
"Leon," Leon said.
"Markus the Speed King," Mark said.
"Ricardo the Dancer," Rico said.
"You have chemistry," the Scout said. "Have you played together before?"
Leon looked at Mark and Rico.
He thought about the World Cup. The Champions League. The roof in London. The pizza parties.
"Yes," Leon smiled. "We have played together for a lifeti."
"Well," the Scout said. "Welco to the Academy."
That evening, Leon lay in his bed.
The blue screen hovered above him.
[PROLOGUE COMPLETE.]
[THE DYNASTY: REBOOTED.]
[CURRENT STATUS: ACADEMY PLAYER.]
[OBJECTIVE: WIN EVERYTHING. AGAIN.]
Leon smiled.
It was going to be harder this ti. The world was different. New rivals. New challenges.
But he had his team.
He had his mories.
And he had the System.
"Hey System," Leon whispered.
[QUERY?]
"Can you calculate the probability of Mark eating a pizza before training tomorrow?"
[CALCULATING...]
[PROBABILITY: 100%.]
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