The stadium wasn't full, but it didn't matter.
The sound of boots on fresh turf, the low roar of anticipation, and the weight of expectation in the air made this feel bigger than it was.
Noah Ramsey stood on the edge of the touchline, Liverpool's U23s facing off against Manchester City's elite development squad in a high-stakes Premier League 1 fixture. His shirt clung tight to his back, the number 67 pressed across it like a symbol of both anonymity and ascension.
> System Notice:
Metavision Activated (Competitive Mode – Limited Strain)
Live Integration Rate: 44%
Cognitive Load Monitoring… OK
His heart thumped once.
Then the noise disappeared.
---
The world slowed down from the first whistle.
Noah didn't see the match in real time anymore. He saw waves—flows of movement, pressure zones, tiny fractures in defensive lines. When City's holding midfielder turned, he noticed the angle of his foot, the twitch in his shoulder, the weight distribution. The pass was obvious before it even left his boot.
And Noah was already moving.
By the time the ball hit the left center-back's foot, Noah was sprinting through the gap between the fullback and winger. He intercepted a backpass as if he'd memorized the script and flicked it inside without looking.
Harvey Elliott was already there.
Goal.
1–0.
The crowd barely had time to register what happened.
Even Harvey, after the celebration, stared at him and muttered, "How the hell did you know?"
Noah didn't answer.
He just smiled.
But something in his stomach shifted—like the system wasn't just helping him win, but erasing the line between instinct and calculation.
---
By halftime, Liverpool led 3–1.
Noah had a goal, an assist, and had drawn two yellow cards by dragging defenders into desperation tackles. He moved like a ghost—always where the ball would be.
Curtis Jones, watching from the dugout, leaned toward Pep Lijnders.
"He's not playing football," he said, voice low. "He's... solving it."
Pep nodded, eyes narrowed. "It's not natural. Beautiful, but cold."
Klopp watched silently from the stands, arms crossed.
---
In the locker room, teammates buzzed with energy.
"Bro, you see that nutmeg? He didn't even look."
"Elliott and Ramsey, man—they've got some psychic link."
Noah sat in silence, towel around his neck, head down.
Not from exhaustion.
From noise.
> System Warning:
Cognitive Load Increasing. Prolonged metavision usage may induce detachment, fatigue, or ego distortion.
Recommended: Cooldown in second half. Risk of Overdrive State.
Ego distortion.
He stared at the words for a long moment.
Something was changing.
He knew it. Felt it in how his chest burned—not with fire, but with superiority. He looked around the room and didn't see teammates anymore.
He saw pieces.
Tools.
Harvey: reliable pass route.
Bajčetić: strong pivot support.
Left back: weak under pressure, avoid overlap.
Was this how Kaiser had felt?
Is this what it meant to see everything?
---
Second half. Minute 57.
City regained momentum, pushing high. Noah's movements slowed, not physically—but emotionally. The more he relied on metavision, the less he felt the game.
No more joy.
Only calculations.
In the 63rd minute, he saw a chance—defender stepping forward, keeper's position 0.2 seconds behind. He darted between two, caught a looping ball, and lobbed it with mechanical precision.
Goal.
4–1.
But he didn't celebrate.
He didn't smile.
He stood there, breath steady, as if it was just a line of code executed.
The stadium began to whisper.
One fan murmured, "He doesn't even look human."
---
Post-match, the locker room was alive with noise. High-fives, laughter, banter.
Noah sat apart, peeling tape off his wrist.
Harvey approached.
"You alright?"
Noah looked up. "Yeah."
"You were... insane out there, man. Like, not even cocky—just ice cold."
Noah tried to smirk, but it felt unnatural.
"I saw everything. The whole match. It was like the game slowed down."
Harvey nodded slowly.
"Is that... a good thing?"
Noah didn't answer right away.
Because deep down, something gnawed at him.
He hadn't felt the second half.
There was no joy in the game—only control.
And it terrified him.
---
That night, he sat alone in the academy dorm, lights off, the glow of the system screen casting shadows across his face.
> Post-Match Analysis Complete
Rating: 9.4
Total Distance Covered: 10.7km
Successful Presses: 23
Key Interceptions: 7
Template Sync: 50% – METAVISION UPGRADED (Range: 20m / Decision Lag: 0.6s)
> Warning:
Mental Overuse Detected
User's emotional responses decreasing under high-template synchronization.
Consider deactivating traits periodically to maintain identity stability.
He closed the screen.
Stood.
Walked to the mirror.
And stared.
It was his face. Noah's. But it wasn't just his anymore.
Behind those pale blue eyes was a mind thinking five seconds ahead of the world.
A mind that was starting to see people as pieces. Tools. Numbers.
He clenched his fists.
Was he still himself?
Or just a vessel for the Emperor's will?
---
The next morning, he skipped breakfast.
Went to the training ground early. Earlier than usual.
He ran until his legs burned. Juggled until his vision blurred. Shot until the ball felt like an extension of his bones.
He didn't need motivation.
He needed anchor—proof that he was still human.
But even as he trained, the system responded automatically. Recommending angles. Adjusting foot positions. Suggesting voice commands for teammates.
Everything was so... optimized.
And it was only going to get worse.
---
Later that day, Klopp pulled him aside after team meetings.
"You alright?" the coach asked casually.
Noah nodded.
"You don't look alright."
Noah shrugged. "Just tired."
Klopp studied him.
"You remind me of someone I coached a long time ago. German striker. Brilliant. Tactical. Always ten seconds ahead."
Noah looked up. "Kaiser?"
Klopp smiled faintly. "He didn't last."
"Why?"
"Because in trying to be perfect... he lost the part of himself that made him want to play."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"I see what you're doing. I see how you're growing. But make sure you're growing into something you want to be. Not something the world expects. Or something a voice in your head demands."
Noah nodded.
But the voice in his head wasn't just metaphorical.
It had Kaiser's smirk.
And it was whispering: More.
---
End of Chapter 5