The alarm tone cut through the morning stillness like a referee's whistle.
Jaeven's eyes opened instantly. No grogginess, no resistance — just clarity.
He sat up, staring at the faint lines of light leaking through his blinds. The world outside still looked half-asleep, but his mind was already racing. Last night's session in the Mental Arena had left a mark deeper than any physical training ever could. He could still feel the echoes — the moment the virtual world froze around him as he controlled the rhythm of an entire match with nothing but thought and instinct.
His reflection on the mirror caught his attention — eyes sharper, posture straighter, the same body but a different presence.
> "Refine, not repeat," he murmured. "That's today's mission."
---
Morning Warm-Up – Reality Check
Virtus Lombardia's training ground buzzed faintly with pre-session chatter. Cleats tapped against turf, laughter echoed across the field, and the cold morning wind carried the faint scent of grass and effort.
Luca was already stretching near the midfield circle.
"Yo, Jaeven!" he waved. "You look like you didn't even sleep."
"I didn't," Jaeven replied calmly, starting his dynamic stretches. "Sort of."
Luca blinked. "Sort of?"
Jaeven smirked. "Let's just say my brain didn't stop training."
Before Luca could ask, Coach Vittori's whistle sliced through the air.
"Warm-up laps! Move like you mean it, ragazzi!"
They started running — light jogs, then progressive sprints. Normally, Jaeven's mind would wander during warm-ups. Today, though, his attention was razor-thin. Every stride, every exhale, every heartbeat was data. His perception field — the one he'd developed inside the Mental Arena — was now active in the real world.
The world slowed.
Footsteps around him echoed in rhythmic pulses.
Luca's breathing hitched slightly at the 200-meter mark.
A midfielder's foot landed half an inch too close to the sideline.
Everything was readable.
Predictable.
And Jaeven was floating through it.
---
Drills – Seeing the Gaps
Passing drills began. Tight triangles. One-touch sequences. Precision under pressure.
Normally, the rhythm would test everyone's reactions.
Today, Jaeven wasn't reacting — he was anticipating.
"Moretti!" Coach Vittori barked. "Don't slow it down!"
He didn't. His touches were sharper than ever — not faster, but cleaner. When the ball came, he'd already decided what came next. When it left his foot, it was as if he'd already seen where it would land.
Luca noticed first.
"Bro," he whispered between drills, "how are you reading everyone like that? It's like you're one step ahead."
Jaeven smiled slightly. "I practiced playing chess."
"With what? FIFA?"
"With myself."
---
Mental Training: Phase Two
That night, the world around him dimmed again.
The Mental Arena materialized — vast, endless, and alive.
But this time, Jaeven didn't let the system lead. He shaped it.
> [Welcome back, Jaeven Moretti Han.]
[Mode: Adaptive Simulation – Free Configuration.]
"Create: Match Scenario," he commanded. "Team Virtus Lombardia Youth vs. AC Milan U17."
The world around him shimmered — the stadium forming, the roar of phantom crowds swelling. Red and black jerseys emerged across from him, each programmed with real data pulled from the internet and memory.
> [Opponent intelligence calibration: 87%. Match realism: 95%.]
He could feel the simulated wind brushing against his cheek. The weight of his jersey. Even the faint vibration of the crowd's noise in his chest.
"Start."
The whistle blew — and the game began.
---
The ball spun across the turf.
Jaeven caught it near the left wing, instantly facing his virtual marker.
He recognized the opponent — Luca Bianco, Milan's youth left-back. A fast, disciplined player. But here, in the simulation, Jaeven had the luxury of exploring every possible outcome.
He feinted left. The defender bit.
He burst right — but the simulation froze.
> [Pause.]
A 3D diagram appeared in the air, showing trajectory lines.
Jaeven adjusted variables mentally.
"What if I dropped my shoulder earlier?" he said.
The simulation rewound.
He tried again.
Different result. Clean break.
He repeated it — dozens of times, each iteration refining micro-movements that real training couldn't afford. His dribbling wasn't just improving; it was evolving.
He could feel the difference — tiny muscle twitches, weight shifts, tempo control.
Then he began experimenting with vision.
He commanded the system: "Activate 360° awareness overlay."
Suddenly, he could see everything — players behind him, angles of approach, the shifting geometry of the field. The simulation wasn't just replicating reality anymore. It was enhancing it.
Hours passed like seconds. Sweat didn't exist here, but mental fatigue built up — an invisible pressure behind his eyes. Still, he kept pushing.
> "Not yet," he whispered. "Refine."
---
Real-World Transfer
Two days later, the difference was frightening.
During a scrimmage, the team faced the club's U18 reserves. Bigger, faster, stronger players — normally, a nightmare for the younger side.
Not for Jaeven.
From the opening whistle, his tempo control dictated everything.
He wasn't the fastest on the field, but his timing made it look like he was. Every time he moved, defenders overcommitted. Every time they blinked, he was already gone.
He intercepted passes that weren't even mistakes — they were inevitable.
He passed into spaces that only existed a second before collapsing.
At one point, he received the ball between two defenders, turned, and curved it around the keeper's reach in one seamless motion.
Silence. Then cheers.
Coach Vittori lowered his whistle.
"That… was deliberate, wasn't it?"
Jaeven nodded, breathing calmly. "I've been practicing vision control."
Vittori frowned. "Vision control?"
"Seeing before moving," Jaeven said simply.
Luca muttered, "Bro, what does that even mean—"
But the rest of the team didn't need explanations. They'd seen it.
He wasn't reacting to the game. He was orchestrating it.
---
Night Routine – The Price of Overclocking
That night, Jaeven's body trembled slightly as he showered. The Mental Arena didn't exhaust muscles, but it did something worse — it overloaded his brain. Every simulation burned through mental energy like a high-speed processor on fire.
His vision pulsed faintly when he blinked. He could hear phantom crowd noise in the silence of his room. His breathing felt heavier.
Still, when he lay down, his mind whispered:
> "You're close. One more layer."
He hesitated — then reentered the Mental Arena.
---
Inside the Arena – Breaking the Speed Barrier
> [Warning: Consecutive mental sessions may cause neural fatigue.]
"I'll risk it," Jaeven said. "Load 2x speed simulation."
The world accelerated.
The ball moved faster, the players reacted quicker, and time itself compressed.
It was chaos — too fast to track at first.
Jaeven's heart pounded. His breathing struggled to keep up. He was drowning in data — angles, patterns, bodies, voices.
Then something clicked.
He stopped trying to process everything at once. Instead, he focused on rhythm — the underlying beat of movement and motion.
Like music.
Once he found that rhythm, everything synced. The noise faded.
He could now predict movements before they occurred. The ball's path wasn't random; it followed the flow of the field's tempo — a symphony he was learning to conduct.
> "This… this is it," he whispered. "The tempo sense."
---
The Awakening of "Tempo Instinct"
> [Skill Awakening Detected: Tempo Instinct (Lv.1)]
Description: Enhances cognitive perception of time flow and rhythm synchronization. Allows the user to "feel" match tempo and adjust movement accordingly.
Effect: +15% reaction accuracy, +10% decision speed.
The moment the notification appeared, Jaeven's world slowed down.
He raised his hand — the simulated ball's rotation became visible, each spin distinct.
He took a step — the air resistance felt calculable.
It wasn't just reaction speed. It was control over tempo.
He could manipulate time perception — not literally stop or slow time, but his brain now processed faster than reality's pace. In the real world, that meant reading plays before they happened, exploiting milliseconds of hesitation.
He grinned.
> "Tempo Instinct… perfect."
---
The Test Match
Three days later.
Virtus Lombardia Youth vs. Atalanta U17.
A friendly match — but for Jaeven, it was a test.
The whistle blew.
From the start, he could sense the rhythm of the game. The collective tempo of passes, steps, and heartbeats — all mapped inside his mind. He didn't just play within the tempo. He bent it.
Whenever he slowed his breathing, opponents unconsciously mirrored his rhythm, easing their guard. When he accelerated, the field erupted into chaos.
By the 35th minute, he'd already scored once and assisted twice — all through manipulation of rhythm and spacing.
Coach Vittori watched in stunned silence. "He's… dictating the entire pace. Like a conductor."
Luca jogged beside Jaeven, panting. "Bro, what the hell are you doing out there? It's like they can't even read you anymore."
Jaeven just smiled faintly. "They're playing the game. I'm feeling it."
---
Aftermath – Recognition
After the match, Vittori called him over privately.
"Jaeven, whatever you're doing… don't stop. But don't burn yourself out either."
Jaeven nodded. "Understood, coach."
The older man hesitated. "You're processing things no human your age should be processing that fast. It's like your instincts are… artificial."
Jaeven said nothing — just smiled politely.
Inside, his thoughts whispered:
> "Artificial? Maybe. But evolution always starts as an anomaly."
---
Midnight: Reflection
Later that night, the room was silent again.
He didn't enter the Mental Arena this time. Instead, he opened the system's stat interface.
Attribute Score Grade Notes
Technique 50 Control approaching elite youth level
Dribbling 50 Sharp and unpredictable
Vision 60 Expanding rapidly due to Tempo Instinct
Speed 60 Mentally amplified through timing control
Stamina 69 B+ Physical body lagging behind mental capacity
Mental Strength 70 Neural endurance increasing steadily
New Skill — — Tempo Instinct (Lv.1) – Perceive and manipulate rhythm
He exhaled. The stats weren't just numbers — they were proof. Proof that the Mental Arena was working beyond comprehension.
Still, one thing nagged at him.
The balance between his mind and body was starting to tilt. His brain was moving faster than his muscles could follow. He needed synchronization — a way to make his body catch up with his mind.
> "That's the next step," he whispered. "The Physical Integration Phase."
He closed his eyes, letting fatigue wash over him.
Outside, rain began to fall, soft and rhythmic — almost in perfect time with his heartbeat.
As he drifted toward sleep, a faint smile touched his lips.
> "Tempo is everything… and now, it's mine."
---
End of Chapter 9 – Refinement Phase