Chapter 10

New Path

The moment I see the system window flash with a soft chime, I instinctively choose to copy. In an instant, memories not my own surge into my mind—images, feelings, thoughts. Rin's development, his pain, his obsession, his vision of football. A flood of knowledge assaults my mind like a tidal wave, but most of it is locked behind mental barriers, waiting for something… maybe time, maybe understanding, maybe experience.

But what is accessible begins to reshape me immediately.

System Notification

You have obtained a partial template: Itoshi Rin (Destroyer Flow Variant)

– Passive Skill Unlocked: Spatial Puppet Control (S Rank)

– Description: Enhances your Meta-Vision to an instinctual level. Allows you to read spatial control like a puppeteer pulling invisible threads. You can now see "influence light points" – glowing nodes of movement and probability. These show the optimal positions before anyone else can realize them.

– Result: You are now 3 steps ahead of average opponents in spatial prediction.

More information begins unfolding.

Vision Upgrade Detected

– Space-Vision (S+): Grants predictive insight into the movement of players who are on your level in physicality and mentality. You can foresee their most likely reactions with stunning accuracy. However, players with superior stats or stronger willpower are less susceptible to prediction.

– Meta-Control (S+): Embeds a "shadow version" of yourself in your opponent's mind. This phantom subtly influences their decisions, creating pressure and misjudgments. It also allows you to understand their mental structure and analyze whether you can beat them—though it cannot influence players with overwhelming egos or deeply refined mental defenses.

I take a deep breath. These aren't just skills.

They're weapons.

Tools for the next stage of war on the field.

And then—

System Notification

Skill Upgrade

– Due to the successful fusion of your 540° fighting style spin and the Kaiser Impact Prototype…

– Kaiser Impact (Lv. 1) Unlocked

– Description: Can be unleashed from any stance—grounded or airborne—as long as momentum (via kinetic energy or rotational force) is transferred through your body. Fastest release speed: 0.001 seconds. Current velocity: 200 km/h. Impact sounds like a rifle shot. Trajectory is highly unstable, but raw destructive power is immense.

I stare at my hands.

My legs.

My feet.

I have the foundation of something only I can wield.

My Kaiser Impact is no longer a wild strike — it's a supernova cannon.

Still breathing heavily, I look at Rin, who is finally pushing himself up from the ground. Dirt clings to his knees and elbows, sweat trails down his temple, and his eyes—those bright, deep-blue irises—are like frozen fire.

I extend a hand toward him.

"You'll be one of the best in the world one day, Rin," I tell him, truth in my voice. "If you master that flow of yours… you'll be terrifying. I hope we can be life rivals."

He looks at me with confusion at first. Maybe he doesn't fully grasp the weight of what I just said.

Then he nods.

His voice is rough, low. "Next time, I'll crush you. You and my brother."

He looks me directly in the eye.

"…I acknowledge you as my rival too."

We walk together in silence to the nearest water fountain. As he bends to drink, I splash him suddenly. "Hey!"

He chokes on the water and turns, spraying me back. I laugh and swipe his leg, tripping him, but then he drags me down too and we collapse in the grass, laughing under the soft glow of early dawn.

The sky above us is a swirl of orange and violet, the colors of beginning.

He sits cross-legged, eyes closed, already meditating.

Following his lead, I join him.

It's quiet here.

Just our breaths.

Just the stillness.

Then—

System Notification

Template Synchronization In Progress…

– Flow Fragment Accumulated: 5 / 100

– ??? Flow Type: Locked

I stand after ten minutes, refreshed.

He's still meditating.

"Hey," I say, glancing back. "The name's Mickeal Kaiser."

He opens one eye briefly. "Remember it," he mutters.

I grin.

Then I jog back to the hotel.

As I enter, I swipe the keycard and open the door—

And freeze.

Alina is standing in the center of the room… wearing my shirt, oversized on her but loose in just the right ways. Her damp hair clings to her cheek, and her green eyes widen in surprise.

A heartbeat passes.

She screams.

A shoe flies toward me.

I slam the door shut and slide down against it, laughing. "My bad—my bad!!"

Then the door creaks open, and before I can even speak, a hand grabs my shirt and drags me back inside.

Scene Shift – Midday

We arrive at the Estadio Alfredo Di Stéfano, where Real Madrid's B team is set to play against FC Barcelona B.

The stadium is alive—buzzing, rumbling. Our seats are high up but perfectly central, giving us a balanced view of both ends of the pitch.

The crowd erupts as the teams walk out.

Alina grips my arm in excitement.

On the pitch, I see them:

Itoshi Sae — Real B's striker. Elegant posture. Cold eyes.

Luna — their rising midfield orchestrator.

On the opposing side:

Pablo Cavarsazo — the dazzling Barcelona midfielder.

And a tall, lean forward with a scar on his left cheek and short pale-blond hair—striking for his age.

The game begins.

Minutes 1–15: Slow tempo. Both sides test each other. Sae drops back to help build plays, drifting deep like a conductor with a blade instead of a baton. Barcelona presses the flanks sharply, attempting to fracture Real's rhythm.

Then — a mistake.

A pass aimed toward Luna is misread.

Pablo intercepts.

Like a puppeteer, he moves in rhythm, passing with angles that should be impossible — threading needles through time and space. His play is geometric poetry.

He dances.

And then… he meets Sae head-on.

The stand-off.

Sae holds steady.

Pablo steps right.

Reverse step-over.

Back heel flick.

Then — a reverse flip-flap with his other foot.

He glides past Sae.

A rainbow glint flashes in Pablo's eyes.

He looks up and launches the ball high.

It spins. It soars. It's… too high.

Even the commentator stammers:

"That's too much power… nobody can reach that! Pablo Cavarsazo's first error—wait… no… wait—WHAT?!"

From out of nowhere, the scar-faced striker leaps.

Not jumps—leaps. Like a demigod.

"HE'S IN THE AIR! 9 FEET? THAT'S INSANE! HOW IS HE STAYING UP THERE—?!"

At the peak of his flight, he twists his torso, absorbs torque, and strikes the ball downward with his opposite leg in a perfect Meteor Smash.

A thunderous boom echoes across the pitch as the ball crashes into the net.

Goalkeeper frozen.

Crowd? Silent.

Then—

Explosion.

"GOOOOOOAAAAALLLL! WHAT A SHOT! STRAIGHT FROM HEAVEN TO EARTH! THE GOD OF THE SKY HAS SPOKEN!"

The boy lands and turns to the camera, winking.

The scar.

The short light hair.

The hangtime.

They call him:

"Bunny" — The Next-Gen 11 Prodigy.

I sit back.

Mind racing.

This world is filled with gods in human skin—each with powers that defy logic. Every corner of the globe is birthing monsters. And I—Mickeal Kaiser—am only at the beginning.

But one day...

I will take them all down.

And rise alone, at the peak, as the Emporer of football.