Reincarnated As A Wonderkid-Chapter 512: Efficiency rating

"Efficiency," Alex whispered. "Taste is irrelevant."

Mark sat next to him. Mark was staring at the pasta with sadness. He pulled a small bottle of hot sauce from his sock.

"Mark," Mr. Kale said sharply. "No additives. The sauce contains sugar. Sugar is the enemy."

"But Mr. Kale," Mark argued. "Happiness is also fuel! If I am sad, I run slow. If I have spicy sauce, I am a rocket!"

"You are a professional athlete, Mark. Eat the broccoli."

Mark sighed. He ate a piece of broccoli. He looked like he was eating poison.

"I miss the school cafeteria," Mark whispered to Alex. "I miss the soggy pizza."

"We are in the big leagues now," Alex said. "We have to eat like champions."

"Champions deserve flavor!" Mark insisted.

The door opened. Steve, the manager, walked in.

"Enjoy your lunch," Steve said. "You will need the energy. We fly to Spain tonight."

The room went quiet.

Champions League. Semi-Final.

Real Madrid vs Arsenal.

The Santiago Bernabeu.

It was the classic fixture. The Kings of Europe against the New Dynasty.

But this time, Real Madrid were different. They had evolved.

"They signed him," Rico whispered. " The Ninja."

Kylian Mbappe.

He had left PSG. He had joined Madrid.

Now, Real Madrid had Vinicius Junior, Rodrygo, Bellingham, and Mbappe.

They called them The Galacticos 3.0.

"They have too many attackers," Alex said calmly. "The balance is wrong."

"They do not need balance," Rico said. "They just score more than you. They are a video game team."

"Video games have glitches," Alex smiled.

Madrid. Spain.

The city was hot. The sun beat down on the golden streets.

Alex walked out of the hotel.

Milo was waiting.

Milo was dressed as... a Matador.

He was wearing a tight suit with gold embroidery, pink socks, and a funny black hat. He was holding a red cape.

"OLE!" Milo shouted. "I AM THE BULLFIGHTER! ALEX! WELCOME TO THE ARENA! I AM SELLING RED RAGS! WAVE THEM AT THE DEFENDERS! MAKE THEM ANGRY! ONLY FIFTY EUROS!"

"Milo, those are just tablecloths," Alex said.

"THEY ARE CAPES OF COURAGE!" Milo yelled, swishing the red cloth. "I ALSO SELL HORNS! PLASTIC HORNS! BE THE BULL!"

"We are not bulls, Milo. We are Gunners."

"SAME AGGRESSION!" Milo winked. "WATCH OUT FOR THE SWORDS!"

They drove to the stadium.

The Bernabeu was renovated. It was a metal beast. The roof was closed. The sound was trapped inside.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

It was like a fashion show of the best players in history.

Vinicius. Modric. Valverde.

And Mbappe.

Mbappe was wearing the white kit. It looked natural on him. He looked dangerous.

He saw Alex.

"Professor," Mbappe nodded. "We meet again."

"Different shirt," Alex said. "Same pitch."

"Better shirt," Mbappe smiled. "Better team. Tonight, you do not calculate. Tonight, you survive."

"Survival is a calculation," Alex replied.

Mark stood behind Alex. Mark was staring at Mbappe.

"You look fast in white," Mark said to Mbappe.

"I am the fastest," Mbappe said.

"We will race," Mark said. "To the corner flag. Loser buys dinner."

Mbappe laughed. "Deal."

The music played. The crowd roared.

Hala Madrid!

The whistle blew.

The game started.

It was terrifying.

Real Madrid did not defend. They attacked with four men.

Vinicius ran down the left. Mbappe ran down the middle. Rodrygo ran down the right. Bellingham ran everywhere.

In the fifth minute, Bellingham got the ball.

He drove forward. He passed to Vinicius.

Vinicius did a shimmy. He passed to Mbappe.

Mbappe did not control it. He hit it first time.

It was a rocket.

Raya saved it. But his hands stung.

"They are too fast!" Ben White yelled. "They are swarming us!"

Alex stood in the midfield.

He analyzed the formation.

Problem: They have four attackers. We have four defenders. It is one on one everywhere.

Solution: Overload the midfield. Starve the supply.

"Rico!" Alex shouted. "Drop deep! Make a box!"

Rico understood. He stopped playing as a number 10. He dropped next to Alex and Rice.

They formed a box in the midfield. Four against three.

Arsenal started to keep the ball.

Pass. Move. Pass. Move.

Madrid chased them. But Madrid had four attackers who did not like to defend.

Mbappe stayed forward. Vinicius stayed forward.

This left holes. Huge holes.

Twentieth minute.

Alex got the ball.

He saw the gap. The Madrid midfield was empty.

He drove forward.

Tchouameni came to tackle him.

Alex played a one two with Rico.

Alex received the ball back. He was in open space.

He saw Mark making a run.

But Rudiger was marking Mark. Rudiger was fast and strong.

Alex did not pass to Mark.

He saw Saka on the right.

Saka was alone.

Alex hit a diagonal pass.

Saka caught it. He cut inside.

He curled the ball.

Courtois made a save.

"We are in the game!" Steve shouted. "Keep the ball!"

But Madrid needed only one moment.

Thirty fifth minute.

Arsenal lost the ball high up the pitch.

Modric got it. The old wizard.

He hit a pass with the outside of his boot.

It curled around the entire Arsenal team.

Mbappe was running.

He was in his own half when he started. By the time he crossed the halfway line, he was a blur.

Saliba tried to catch him.

It was impossible.

Mbappe was one on one with Raya.

He did a stepover. He went round the keeper.

He rolled it in.

Goal.

One zero. Real Madrid.

The stadium shook.

Mbappe slid on his knees. He did the folded arms celebration.

"He is fast," Mark said, looking impressed. "He is very fast."

"Focus!" Alex yelled. "It is just one goal!"

Halftime. One zero.

Steve was calm.

"They rely on individual brilliance," Steve said. "They rely on magic. But magic runs out. Logic lasts forever."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. They are lazy. Their attackers do not track back. Exploit the wings."

"I will widen the angle," Alex said.

Second half.

Arsenal came out differently.

They stretched the pitch. Saka hugged the right line. Martinelli hugged the left.

This forced the Madrid defense to spread out.

And when the defense spread out, the middle opened up.

Sixtieth minute.

Alex got the ball in the center.

Because the defense was wide, there was a channel. A straight line to the goal.

Alex started to run.

Camavinga tried to catch him. Alex dropped his shoulder and went past him.

He was thirty yards out.

He saw Mark.

Mark was making a diagonal run. He was dragging Rudiger away.

This created a space for Rico.

Alex passed to Rico.

Rico was on the edge of the box.

He did a Samba dance over the ball.

He passed it back to Alex.

Alex did not stop. He ran onto the ball.

He was in the box.

Courtois was huge.

Alex remembered the lesson on fuel.

Efficiency.

He did not blast it. He did not waste energy.

He passed the ball into the corner.

Precision.

Goal.

One one.

The Arsenal fans cheered.

Alex high fived Rico. "Structure beats chaos."

"Samba helps too," Rico winked.

Real Madrid were angry. They did not like drawing at home.

They threw everything forward.

Mbappe ran. Vinicius ran.

Eighty fifth minute.

Vinicius dribbled past three players. He crossed.

Bellingham headed it.

It hit the bar.

CLANG.

The ball bounced out.

Mark picked it up.

"COUNTER ATTACK!" Mark screamed.

Mark ran.

He ran past Mendy. He ran past Valverde.

He was the Emperor of Speed.

He saw Alex running with him.

It was two against one. Only Alaba was back.

Mark ran towards Alaba.

"Pass!" Alex yelled.

Mark looked at Alex.

Then Mark looked at the goal.

He looked at Alaba.

Mark smiled.

He did a "Nutmeg".

He pushed the ball through Alaba legs.

Mark ran around him.

He was alone with Courtois.

Mark had time.

He remembered the Matador.

"OLE!" Mark shouted.

He stopped the ball on the line.

He waited for Courtois to dive.

Then he tapped it in.

Goal.

Two one. Arsenal.

Mark ran to the corner flag. He grabbed it and waved it like a sword.

"I AM THE MATADOR!" Mark screamed. "I DEFEATED THE BULL!"

Alex jumped on him. "You crazy runner! You stopped on the line!"

"Style points!" Mark yelled. "I need the style points!"

The final whistle blew.

Arsenal 2. Real Madrid 1.

A massive victory in the first leg.

Alex fell to the ground. He was exhausted.

Mbappe walked over. He was sweating.

"You won the race," Mbappe said to Mark.

"I told you," Mark grinned. "You owe me dinner. Pizza. Extra cheese."

"Fine," Mbappe laughed. "Pizza it is."

Milo ran onto the pitch. He was holding a red flag.

"THE BULL IS TAMED!" Milo shouted. "ALEX! THE VICTORY! I AM SELLING THE DUST FROM THE PITCH! IT IS GLITTER! IT IS MAGIC! TWENTY EUROS A JAR!"

"Milo, get out of here before the security guards catch you," Alex laughed.

"I AM A GHOST!" Milo yelled, disappearing into the crowd.

They walked into the dressing room.

It was a happy room.

Alex sat down. He checked his phone.

A text from Maya.

"Efficiency rating: 97 percent. You exploited the defensive gaps caused by their lack of tracking back. Textbook game theory. Also, Mr. Kale says you burned 1200 calories. You are allowed one slice of pizza. But only one."

Alex smiled.

One slice.

He looked at Mark.

Mark was eating a pizza that Mbappe had actually bought for him (delivered to the dressing room).

"It tastes like victory," Mark said with a mouth full of cheese. "And pepperoni."