Reincarnated As A Wonderkid-Chapter 547: Everything.

The locker room in Los Angeles was quiet. The win against Brentford had settled the nerves, but the adrenaline was still pumping through Alex’s veins.

He sat on the bench, untying his boots.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his head. It wasn’t a headache. It was like a flash drive being plugged into his brain.

Zzzzt.

Images flooded his mind.

Not just memories. Everything.

He saw the tactics board from a game he played as Danein Blake in 2005. He saw the exact blade of grass where he missed a penalty in the academy as Leon. He saw the spin of the ball on every free kick he had ever taken.

He saw the math homework he did last week. He saw the menu of a pizza place in Rome from three years ago.

He remembered the name of the referee in a U12 match. (It was Mr. Jenkins, and he smelled like peppermint).

Alex gasped. He grabbed his head.

"Alex?" Mark asked, dropping his taco. "Is your brain rebooting? Do you need a restart button?"

"I remember," Alex whispered. "Everything."

"Like what?" Mark asked. "Do you remember where I left my other shin pad?"

"It is under the seat on the bus, row 4, left side," Alex said instantly. "You left it there yesterday at 3:14 PM while eating a bag of cheese puffs."

Mark’s jaw dropped. "That is... scary accurate. Are you a wizard?"

"I think my hard drive just upgraded," Alex said, rubbing his temples. "I have infinite storage."

The team walked out to the bus.

Alex looked at the world differently. He didn’t just see a stadium. He saw the angles of the stands. He saw the wind speed affecting the flags. He saw the fatigue levels of the security guards.

It was overwhelming. But it was powerful.

Steve stood at the front of the bus.

"Okay," Steve said. "Quarter Final. Al-Nassr. Cristiano Ronaldo."

The bus went silent.

Ronaldo. The legend. The machine.

"He is old," Rico said. "But he is still Ronaldo."

"He scores goals for fun," Steve said. "He doesn’t run much, but when he gets the ball in the box, it is over."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. You played against Messi. You played against Mbappe. Can you handle Ronaldo?"

Alex closed his eyes. He accessed the new database in his head.

He saw every goal Ronaldo had ever scored. The headers. The tap-ins. The rockets. He saw the patterns.

"He drifts to the left when he is tired," Alex said. "He steps back before he jumps. He takes three breaths before a free kick."

Steve stared at him. "How do you know that?"

"I remember," Alex said. "I remember everything."

New York. MetLife Stadium.

The crowd was split. Red for Arsenal. Yellow for Al-Nassr.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

Cristiano Ronaldo stood next to him. He looked like a Greek statue. Perfect hair. Perfect posture. He smelled of ambition.

"Wonderkid," Ronaldo said. "I heard you won the Ballon d’Or."

"I did," Alex said.

"Enjoy it," Ronaldo said. "Because I want it back."

"You have five," Alex smiled. "Share the wealth."

"I do not share," Ronaldo said seriously. "I conquer."

The whistle blew.

The game started.

It was a clash of generations.

Al-Nassr played through Ronaldo. Every pass went to him. Mane ran down the wing. Brozovic controlled the midfield. But the target was always CR7.

In the tenth minute, Mane crossed.

Ronaldo jumped. He hung in the air. It defied gravity.

He headed the ball.

Raya saved it. But only just.

"He flies!" Mark yelled. "He has a jetpack!"

Alex stood in the midfield.

He watched Ronaldo.

He saw the pattern. Ronaldo was drifting left. He was tired.

"He will cut inside," Alex thought. "He will look for the shot at the near post."

Twenty fifth minute.

Ronaldo got the ball. He cut inside.

Alex was already there. He had predicted the move three seconds ago.

Alex stepped in. He took the ball.

Ronaldo looked shocked. "How?"

"Data," Alex whispered.

Alex drove forward.

He saw the pitch like a grid. He saw the passing lanes as glowing lines.

He saw Mark making a run.

Alex hit a pass. It was perfect to the millimeter.

Mark ran onto it.

He was one on one with Ospina.

Mark shot.

Goal.

One zero. Arsenal.

Mark ran to the corner. He did the "Siuuu" celebration. But he messed it up and spun in a circle.

"SIUUU-ISH!" Mark screamed.

Ronaldo looked annoyed.

Halftime. One zero.

Steve was impressed.

"You are reading his mind," Steve said to Alex.

"I am reading his history," Alex said. "Patterns repeat."

Second half.

Ronaldo was angry. He demanded the ball.

Sixtieth minute.

Al-Nassr won a free kick. Thirty yards out.

Ronaldo stood over it. The famous stance. Legs wide. Deep breath.

Alex stood in the wall.

He remembered every free kick Ronaldo had taken since 2003.

"He will go over the wall," Alex thought. "Top right corner. It will dip."

Alex shouted to Raya. "Step right! One step!"

Raya trusted him. He stepped right.

Ronaldo hit the ball.

It flew over the wall. It dipped. It was heading for the top right corner.

But Raya was there. He caught it.

Ronaldo stared at Alex. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Get out of my head, kid," Ronaldo muttered.

Seventy fifth minute.

The game was still 1-0.

Alex had the ball.

He saw Rico. Rico was surrounded.

But Alex remembered a game from 2012. A pass Iniesta made.

He tried it.

He scooped the ball over the defense.

It landed at Rico’s feet.

Rico didn’t even have to move. He just volleyed it.

Goal.

Two zero.

"Memory is a weapon," Alex thought.

Eighty fifth minute.

Al-Nassr scored. Mane. A scramble in the box.

Two one.

The tension rose.

Ninetieth minute.

Injury time.

Ronaldo got the ball in the box. He wound up to shoot.

Alex knew what was coming. The chop. The fake shot.

Alex didn’t tackle. He just stood where Ronaldo wanted to go.

Ronaldo chopped the ball. He ran straight into Alex.

Alex stood firm. He took the ball.

The referee blew the whistle.

Arsenal 2. Al-Nassr 1.

They were in the Semi-Final.

Alex walked off the pitch. His head was buzzing with data. Every pass, every tackle, every shout was being recorded.

Ronaldo walked over.

"You are a computer," Ronaldo said. "Not a human."

"I am a student," Alex smiled. "I studied your game."

"Study this," Ronaldo said, handing him his shirt. "Greatness."

Alex took the shirt.

Milo ran onto the pitch. He was wearing a shirt made of binary code (zeros and ones).

"THE COMPUTER WHIZ!" Milo screamed. "WE HACKED THE SYSTEM! ALEX! I AM SELLING MEMORY STICKS! THEY CONTAIN THE SECRETS OF THE UNIVERSE! AND A RECIPE FOR PANCAKES! ONLY TWENTY DOLLARS!"

"Milo, pancakes are not a secret," Alex laughed.

"MY PANCAKES ARE!" Milo yelled. "THEY ARE SQUARE!"

They walked into the dressing room.

The team was celebrating.

Alex sat down. He closed his eyes.

The memories were still there. Swirling.

He remembered Danein Blake’s first kiss. He remembered Leon Fischer’s first bike ride. He remembered Alex Finch’s first goal.

It was a lot.

"Hey Professor," Mark said, sitting next to him.

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember what I had for lunch last Tuesday?"

Alex thought. The image appeared instantly.

"A tuna melt and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. And you stole a grape from Rico."

Mark’s eyes widened.

"You are a wizard!" Mark shouted. "Can you tell me where I left my keys?"

"In your left shoe," Alex said.

Mark checked his shoe. He pulled out a set of keys.

"MAGIC!" Mark screamed. "PURE MAGIC!"

Alex smiled.

The super-memory was a burden. But it was also a gift.

He looked at the fixture list.

Semi-Final.

Manchester City.

Again.

Pep Guardiola. The tactical genius.

But Alex had a new weapon. He knew every tactic Pep had ever used. He knew every formation. Every trick.

"Bring on the machine," Alex whispered.

He stood up.

He felt stronger. Smarter. Infinite.

The Dynasty was unbreakable. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

And the Professor?

He had just memorized the entire syllabus.