Reincarnated As A Wonderkid-Chapter 514: The End

The geography classroom was warm. A globe sat on the teacher’s desk, slowly spinning on a motorized axis.

Mr. Mercator stood next to a large map of the world. He was pointing at a small dot in the middle of Europe.

"Coordinates," Mr. Mercator said. "Latitude and Longitude. Every place on Earth can be defined by numbers. Where you are defines who you are."

Alex sat at his desk. He was looking at the map.

London. Paris. Madrid. Tokyo.

He had played in all of them. But there was one coordinate left. The biggest one.

"Mr. Finch," Mr. Mercator asked. "What is the capital of Catalonia?"

Alex looked up.

"Barcelona, Sir," Alex said.

"Correct," Mr. Mercator nodded. "A city of art. Of culture. And of football."

Mark sat next to Alex. He was wearing a beret (again) and holding a paintbrush (again).

"I AM PICASSO!" Mark whispered. "I SEE THE WORLD IN SHAPES! MOSTLY TRIANGLES! BECAUSE PIZZA IS A TRIANGLE!"

"Mark," Mr. Mercator sighed. "Please stop drawing faces on the map. You have turned Australia into a smiley face."

"Australia is happy!" Mark argued. "It has kangaroos!"

The bell rang.

Alex packed his bag.

Barcelona.

But not in Spain.

The Final was in London. At Wembley.

But the opponent was Barcelona.

The team of Messi (historically). The team of Cruyff. The team of passing.

And they had Lamine Yamal. The 17-year-old prodigy. The boy who was even younger than Alex.

Alex walked out to the car park.

Milo was waiting.

Milo was dressed as... a Yeoman Warder. A Beefeater.

He was wearing a red and gold tunic with a ruff around his neck. He was holding a plastic halberd.

"HALT! WHO GOES THERE?" Milo shouted. "I AM THE GUARDIAN OF THE TOWER! ALEX! I AM SELLING CROWN JEWELS! THEY ARE JUST PLASTIC RINGS FROM A CRACKER! BUT THEY SPARKLE!"

"Milo, you are sweating," Alex said. "That wool tunic must be hot."

"I AM MELTING FOR THE CAUSE!" Milo yelled. "HISTORY IS HOT! I AM ALSO SELLING TOURS OF THE DUNGEON! (My garage!)."

They drove to Wembley.

The stadium was already full. The atmosphere was a mix of Arsenal red and Barcelona blue.

Steve, the manager, gathered the team in the dressing room.

"This is it," Steve said. "The Treble. Premier League. FA Cup. Champions League."

He looked at the players.

"Barcelona want the ball. They think they own the ball. They pass it until you are dizzy. Do not get dizzy."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. Lamine Yamal. He is a child. But he plays like a veteran. He is fast. He is tricky. He cuts inside."

"I will solve the equation," Alex said.

"Good. And Mark," Steve said. "Do not get distracted by the occasion."

"I am focused!" Mark said. He was trying to balance a water bottle on his nose. "Like a laser!"

Wembley Stadium. The Final.

The noise was deafening.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

To his right, the Barcelona players. Lewandowski. Pedri. Gavi.

And Yamal.

He looked so young. He had braces on his teeth. He looked like he should be doing homework, not playing in a Champions League Final.

Yamal looked at Alex. He smiled. It was a shy smile.

"Hello," Yamal said.

"Hello," Alex said. "Nervous?"

"A little," Yamal admitted. "My mum said I have to be home by midnight."

Alex laughed. "My mum said I have to eat my vegetables."

They shook hands. Two kids on top of the world.

The whistle blew.

The game started.

Barcelona were smooth. Silk.

Pedri and Gavi moved the ball like they were telepathic.

Click. Clack. Click.

Arsenal chased shadows.

In the fifteenth minute, Yamal got the ball on the wing.

He faced Zinchenko.

Yamal did not do a stepover. He just dropped his shoulder. A tiny movement.

Zinchenko went left. Yamal went right.

Yamal cut inside. He curled a shot.

It hit the post.

THUD.

The Arsenal fans gasped.

"He is good!" Mark yelled from the other wing. "He is like a mini-me! But Spanish!"

Alex stood in the midfield.

He watched the pattern. Barcelona were triangles. Always triangles.

"Break the shape," Alex whispered.

Arsenal restarted.

Alex pressed higher. He disrupted the rhythm.

He tackled Gavi. He intercepted a pass from De Jong.

Thirty fifth minute.

Alex won the ball.

He saw Rico. Rico was being marked by Araujo.

Alex did not pass to feet. He passed to space.

He hit a ball over the top.

Rico ran.

Araujo was strong, but Rico was tricky.

Rico controlled the ball with his heel. A "scorpion control".

The crowd roared.

Rico crossed.

Saka was there.

Saka volleyed.

Ter Stegen saved it.

"Keep pushing!" Steve shouted.

Halftime. Zero zero.

It was tight. A game of chess between two grandmasters.

"They are tiring," Steve said. "They are pressing hard. Their energy will drop."

He looked at Mark.

"Speed. Balde is attacking. The space is behind him."

"I love space!" Mark said. "It is my favorite place!"

Second half.

Fifty fifth minute.

Yamal got the ball again. He was fearless.

He dribbled past two players. He passed to Lewandowski.

Lewandowski shot.

Goal.

Zero one. Barcelona.

The Spanish fans went crazy. Yamal jumped on Lewandowski’s back.

Alex stood in the center circle.

Zero one down in the final. Again.

"Deja vu," Alex thought. "We have been here before."

He clapped his hands.

"Remember Madrid!" Alex shouted. "Remember the comeback!"

Arsenal restarted.

Alex took control.

He demanded the ball. He drove the team forward.

Sixty fifth minute.

Alex got the ball deep.

He saw Mark making a run.

Alex hit a laser pass. Sixty yards.

Mark ran.

He was one on one with Balde.

Mark pushed the ball.

"TURBO!" Mark screamed.

He burned past Balde.

Mark crossed.

Martinelli was there.

He tapped it in.

Goal.

One one.

The stadium exploded.

"We are level!" Alex yelled.

Seventy fifth minute.

The game was open now. Both teams wanted to win.

Yamal hit the bar. Saka hit the post.

Eighty fifth minute.

Five minutes left.

Alex had the ball.

He was tired. His legs were heavy.

He saw the clock. 85:00.

He looked at the Barcelona defense. They were deep.

He saw a gap.

He started to run.

He ran past Gundogan. He ran past Christensen.

He was twenty yards out.

He could shoot.

But he saw something better.

He saw Mark.

Mark was on the right. He was waving.

And he saw Rico.

Rico was on the left.

The Three Amigos. The Trinity.

Alex ran towards the box.

Araujo stepped out to stop him.

Alex passed to Rico.

Rico didn’t shoot. He flicked it back to Alex.

Alex didn’t shoot. He flicked it to Mark.

Mark didn’t shoot. He flicked it back to Alex.

Triangle.

The Barcelona defense was dizzy. They were chasing a ghost ball.

Alex was six yards out.

Ter Stegen came out.

Alex did not shoot with power.

He remembered the lesson.

Coordinates.

He placed the ball.

Exact coordinates: Bottom right corner. X axis. Y axis. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

He rolled it gently.

The ball passed Ter Stegen’s hand.

It rolled into the net.

GOAL.

Two one. Arsenal.

Eighty eighth minute.

Alex ran to the corner. He fell to his knees. He pointed to the sky.

Mark jumped on him. Rico jumped on him.

"THE TRIANGLE!" Mark screamed. "WE USED THEIR SHAPE AGAINST THEM!"

"Geometry!" Alex laughed. "It works!"

The final few minutes were an eternity.

Barcelona threw everyone forward. Even Ter Stegen.

But Arsenal held on. They were a wall of red.

The final whistle blew.

Arsenal 2. Barcelona 1.

The Treble.

The greatest season in history.

Alex lay on the grass. He looked at the Wembley arch.

It was over.

They had won everything.

Yamal walked over. He was crying.

Alex stood up. He hugged the young boy.

"You are amazing," Alex said. "Your time will come."

"You are the best," Yamal sniffed. "Can I have your shirt?"

"Only if I can have yours," Alex smiled.

They swapped.

Milo ran onto the pitch. He was wearing a King’s robe and a crown that looked like it came from a fast food restaurant.

"THE KING!" Milo screamed. "WE RULE THE WORLD! ALEX! THE TREBLE! I AM SELLING PIECES OF THE PITCH! I DUG IT UP WITH A SPOON! TEN POUNDS A CLUMP!"

"Milo, put the grass back," Alex laughed.

"IT IS HOLY GROUND!" Milo yelled.

They walked up the steps.

Odegaard lifted the trophy.

Then he handed it to Alex.

Alex lifted it.

The roar was deafening.

Mark stood next to him. He was wearing all three medals around his neck. They clinked together.

"We did it, Professor," Mark said. "We completed the game."

"New Game Plus starts next season," Alex said.

"Does New Game Plus have pizza?" Mark asked.

"Yes, Mark. It has pizza."

They looked at the crowd.

Maya was there. She was holding a sign that said ’STATISTICAL PROBABILITY OF TREBLE: 0.001%. YOU ARE A MIRACLE.’

Alex smiled.