Reincarnated As A Wonderkid-Chapter 532: We are in Wales

"I am cold," Mark said, his teeth chattering. "My speed is frozen. I am an ice lolly."

"We are in Wales, Mark," Alex said. "It is January."

"But we were in Saudi Arabia last week!" Mark complained. "It was hot! There were palm trees! Now there are only sheep and rain!"

"It is the FA Cup," Alex said. "The Third Round. It is romantic."

"Romance is a warm pizza by a fire," Mark grumbled. "This is just wet."

Maya sent a text to Alex’s phone.

Analysis of Wrexham AFC: League Two. High morale. Hollywood owners. The probability of a ’Giant Killing’ is statistically 14%. But the probability of mud is 100%.

"Mud," Alex whispered. "High friction coefficient."

They arrived at the Racecourse Ground.

It was not the Emirates. It was not the Bernabeu. It was old, tight, and loud.

Milo was waiting in the car park.

Milo was dressed as... a Hollywood Director.

He was wearing a beret, a scarf, and holding a megaphone. He sat in a folding chair that said DIRECTOR on the back.

"CUT!" Milo screamed at the bus driver. "PARK WITH MORE EMOTION! ALEX! WELCOME TO THE SET! I AM SELLING MOVIE ROLES! DO YOU WANT TO BE THE HERO? THE VILLAIN? THE GUY WHO EATS A PIE IN THE BACKGROUND?"

"Milo, we are playing a football match," Alex said, stepping off the bus into a puddle.

"IT IS A MOVIE!" Milo insisted. "THE CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD VS THE UNDERDOGS! RYAN REYNOLDS IS WATCHING! I AM PITCHING HIM A SCRIPT! IT IS CALLED ’THE WONDERKID AND THE WIZARD OF WALES’!"

"Who is the wizard?" Mark asked, intrigued.

"ME!" Milo yelled. "OBVIOUSLY!"

They walked into the changing room. It was small. The heating was barely working.

Steve, the manager, stood on a bench so everyone could see him.

"Listen," Steve said. "Last week, you were Kings. You lifted the World Cup. You beat Flamengo."

He pointed at the muddy boots in the corner.

"Today, you are nobody. Wrexham do not care about your medals. They want to humiliate you. They want to be the story."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. The pitch is heavy. The ball will stick. Do not dribble. Do not play pretty. Play smart."

"Adjust the variables," Alex nodded.

The Racecourse Ground.

The atmosphere was incredible. The Wrexham fans were singing. They believed.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

Paul Mullin, the Wrexham striker, stood next to him. He looked like he had been carved out of oak.

"World Champions," Mullin grinned. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Nice stadium," Alex said politely.

"It is a bit muddy," Mullin winked. "Hope you brought your wellies."

Mark stood behind Alex. He was tapping his boots on the concrete to get the mud off.

"My boots are heavy," Mark whispered. "I feel like I am wearing bricks."

"Just run, Mark," Alex said.

"I will try," Mark said. "But if I sink, pull me out."

The whistle blew.

The game started.

It was exactly what Maya predicted. Mud. Friction. Chaos.

Arsenal tried to play their passing game. Tick. Tock.

But the ball stopped dead in the mud.

In the tenth minute, Rico tried to do a "Samba Roll". The ball got stuck in a divot. Rico tripped over the ball and fell face-first into the mud.

The crowd laughed.

"My hair!" Rico yelled, touching his muddy head. "My beautiful hair!"

Wrexham played differently. They hit long balls. They chased them. They loved the mud.

In the twentieth minute, Wrexham won a throw-in.

It was a long throw. Like a missile.

It landed in the box.

Saliba slipped. Gabriel slipped.

Paul Mullin did not slip.

He smashed the ball.

Goal.

One zero. Wrexham.

The stadium exploded. It was the magic of the FA Cup. The minnows were beating the sharks.

"This is impossible!" Mark yelled. "Physics is broken! Gravity is too strong here!"

Alex stood in the center circle.

He looked at the pitch. It was a bog.

"Okay," Alex thought. "Ground passes are failing. Friction is too high."

"Change the medium," Alex whispered. "Move from land to air."

Arsenal restarted.

Alex stopped passing along the ground. He started chipping everything.

He chipped it to Rice. Rice headed it to Odegaard. Odegaard volleyed it to Saka.

They were playing "The Floor is Lava".

Forty fifth minute.

Alex got the ball.

He saw Mark making a run.

But the mud was slowing Mark down. The defender was catching him.

Alex knew a normal through ball would get stuck.

He needed backspin.

He hit the ball with a "Chopping" motion.

The ball flew over the defender’s head.

It landed.

Because of the backspin and the mud, it stopped dead. It didn’t roll.

The defender ran past it, slipping on the wet grass.

Mark stopped.

The ball was waiting for him.

Mark shot.

The goalkeeper saved it.

But the rebound fell to Nketiah.

Nketiah tapped it in.

Goal.

One one.

"Air power!" Alex shouted.

Halftime. One one.

The dressing room was covered in mud. The players looked like they had been in a swamp war.

"They are tired," Steve said. "Chasing the ball in mud is hard work. Keep the ball in the air. Make them look up."

He looked at Mark.

"Speed. You are struggling."

"I am a Ferrari in a field!" Mark complained. "I need tarmac!"

"Be a tractor," Steve said. "Power through."

"I do not want to be a tractor," Mark pouted. "Tractors are slow."

Second half.

The rain fell harder. The pitch became a swimming pool.

Wrexham fought for every ball. They were heroes.

Sixty fifth minute.

Milo ran onto the pitch (again).

He was wearing a wetsuit and flippers.

"THE DIVER!" Milo screamed. "I AM JACQUES COUSTEAU! ALEX! I FOUND ATLANTIS! IT IS IN THE CENTER CIRCLE! I AM SELLING SUBMARINES! YELLOW ONES! FIVE POUNDS!"

"Milo, you are going to trip in those flippers," Alex laughed.

"I AM HYDRODYNAMIC!" Milo yelled, flopping away from a steward.

The distraction gave Alex a moment to think.

Seventy fifth minute.

The game was tied. Replay at the Emirates? Nobody wanted that. The schedule was too full.

Alex had the ball on the edge of the box.

He was surrounded by three Wrexham defenders. They were big. They blocked the goal.

There was no space to shoot.

Rico was on the left. Mark was on the right.

Alex looked at the mud at his feet.

He had an idea.

He remembered playing in the park as a kid. When it rained, you made a splash.

Alex put his foot next to the ball.

He stomped on the ground. Hard.

SPLASH.

A wave of muddy water flew up into the face of the nearest defender.

The defender blinked. He wiped his eyes.

In that split second of blindness, Alex moved.

He flicked the ball up.

He volleyed it.

It wasn’t a clean hit. It was a shin-pad volley.

But it dipped.

It bounced in front of the goalkeeper.

It hit a patch of mud.

It changed direction.

It skid into the corner.

GOAL.

Two one. Arsenal.

Alex ran to the corner. He did a knee slide, but the mud was so deep he stopped instantly and fell forward.

"MUD SLIDE!" Alex laughed, wiping dirt from his teeth.

Mark jumped on top of him. "YOU USED THE ELEMENTS! YOU ARE AN EARTH BENDER!"

"I used the splash zone!" Alex shouted.

Wrexham tried to respond. But they were exhausted. The World Champions had found a way.

The final whistle blew.

Arsenal 2. Wrexham 1.

They had survived the scare.

Alex walked off the pitch. He looked like a chocolate statue. He was covered in brown mud from head to toe.

Paul Mullin walked over.

"Fair play," Mullin said. "You battled."

"You guys were tough," Alex said. "Proper football."

Ryan Reynolds (the actual Hollywood actor) was standing by the tunnel. He looked impressed.

"Hey," Ryan said to Alex. "Good script. A bit messy in the second act, but a strong finish."

"Thanks," Alex smiled. "Milo wants to sell you a screenplay."

"The guy in the wetsuit?" Ryan asked. "I already bought it. It’s about a magical camel. Sounds like a hit."

Alex shook his head. Milo was a genius.

They walked into the dressing room.

It was messy.

Alex checked his phone.

A text from Maya.

"Surface analysis: The friction coefficient was 0.8. Very high. Your pass completion dropped to 82%, but your ’Chaos Creation’ metric was off the charts. Also, please clean your boots before you come to the library. Mud is not allowed in the archives."

Alex smiled. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

He looked at Mark.

Mark was in the shower. He was wearing his full kit. He was trying to wash the mud off his shirt while still wearing it.

"I am melting!" Mark shouted. "The mud is part of me now! I am becoming a golem!"

"You are just dirty, Mark," Alex said.

"I am earthy!" Mark corrected.

Alex sat down. He was tired. His bones ached.

It wasn’t a glamorous win. There was no gold confetti. No trophy lift.

Just mud, rain, and a hard-fought win in Wales.

But the Professor knew these were the lessons that mattered.

You don’t always win with calculus and geometry.

Sometimes, you win with grit. And a big splash.

"Class dismissed," Alex whispered.

He closed his eyes.

He needed a hot bath. And maybe a pizza.

Definitely a pizza.

"Mark," Alex shouted over the shower noise.

"Yeah?"

"Pizza?"

"YES!" Mark yelled. "I AM CLEAN ENOUGH FOR PEPPERONI!"