Football Reborn: The Manager from the future

⚽ Football Reborn: The Manager from the Future

Chapter 60 – The Mountain Where Football Died

Some say football is about joy.

Others say it's about money.

But high in the forgotten mountains of Central Asia, there's a place where football became neither.

It became warfare.

🗻 Kyrgyzstan – Tien Shan Mountains, Altitude 3,200m

A Soviet-era radar array stood abandoned — or so it seemed.

To the naked eye, it was rust and silence.

But to a trained neural scanner?

It was alive with signals, coded transmissions, and encrypted frequencies bouncing off satellites no country admitted owning.

Chuva stepped off the stealth chopper. His breath misted. The wind stung. The altitude slowed his blood.

But the chip in his palm pulsed with warmth.

This was the place.

The Basalt League HQ.

🏁 Welcome to the Quarry

The door opened with a screech.

Two sentries met him.

Not soldiers — footballers. But not like any Chuva had seen before.

One had robotic knees, constantly adjusting their angle with microservos.

The other had three eyes — one stitched into his forehead, blinking independently.

They said nothing.

Just handed Chuva a black armband with silver glyphs: ⚒️🔥

Then they nodded.

And vanished into the stone.

🕹️ Inside the Command Pit

Chuva descended a spiral staircase into a massive subterranean chamber.

There were no lights — only soft glows from holographic projectors, suspended maps, and hundreds of players training in silence.

No shouting.

No clapping.

No music.

Just movement. Calculated. Efficient. Eerie.

Seraph came online automatically. Whispered into Chuva's ear:

"All of these players were rejected from the global football system. Not for lack of talent — but for having too much."

"They broke stats. Shattered ceilings. Scared the federations."

"And now? They want revenge."

🪪 The Founder Appears

From above, a figure descended slowly — via harness, like a spider on a thread.

She wore a trench coat of synthetic graphene and held a simple leather football.

Her voice echoed.

"You're the Tempo boy. The Glitch."

Chuva said nothing.

"I am Ada Basalt," she continued. "Once FIFA's top data scientist. Until they erased me for discovering the Stat Singularity."

She dropped the ball. It didn't bounce. It just waited.

"You came for truth. I'll give it."

📜 The Truth: Why Football Broke

Ada waved her hand.

A hologram emerged — match footage from the last 30 years.

"I trained the algorithm that fed the academies. That sorted talent. Predicted growth. Managed risk."

"But then… I saw the curve flatten."

"From 2028 onwards, no human player exceeded the model. They stayed within safe margins."

Chuva watched as image after image showed players getting faster — but not different.

Ada snapped her fingers.

Footage switched to Kojo. Then León. Then himself.

"Until you."

⚖️ Basalt's Proposition

Ada circled him.

"You're not human. Not really. Not machine, either. You're the future's mistake."

"But we? We are the correction."

Chuva frowned.

"You play underground matches and sabotage clubs. That's not correction — that's terrorism."

Ada's expression didn't change.

"Call it what you want. But when the system fears change, the rebels are always criminals."

She pointed at a screen. A schedule appeared.

Match 1: Vanguard 3 vs Neymar Clone Unit

Match 2: León Prime vs KRM-13

Match 3: Kojo vs GOAT Archive XI

Chuva's eyes widened.

"You brought them here too?"

Ada nodded.

"This is the Tournament of Collapse."

"Win, and we reset football's throne."

"Lose… and football becomes corporate entertainment forever."

💻 Meanwhile – Back at Tempo FC HQ

Clara slammed her hand on the desk.

"WE LOST HIM. The tracker went dead 10 minutes ago."

Abasi, furious, shouted, "Why the hell did we let him go alone?"

Kojo stood silently.

Then, without a word, he opened his phone.

Pulled up an app.

The screen flickered.

He pressed a button labeled "Project Chimera"

Clara turned, stunned.

"You kept that? That's experimental AI!"

Kojo didn't answer.

Only whispered:

"If Chuva's playing in hell… we need to send angels."

🧬 Match Room: Vanguard 3 vs Neymar Clone Unit

The arena was circular, glass-walled.

No grass. No goals.

Only movement zones, colored grids, and biometric sensors.

Vanguard 3, the Nigerian spectral midfielder, stood on one side — wearing black.

On the other: Neymar Unit 7. Blonde-streaked hair. Razor-sharp reflexes. Flamboyant, but programmed.

The announcer spoke only once:

"First to disable the other's vision system wins."

The match began.

And Neymar vanished in a blur of stepovers.

But Vanguard?

He stood still. Listening.

Feeling.

And then…

He struck once.

No tackle. No aggression. Just timing.

Neymar's eyes blinked red.

System crash.

Match over.

🔥 End Scene – Ada's Final Words

Ada sat beside Chuva in the observatory tower, high above the mountain.

She sipped something black. Thick. Bitter.

"You're not ready," she said.

"But you're willing."

Chuva nodded.

She looked down at the pit — where León and KRM-13 were being injected with regulation inhibitors before their match.

And whispered:

"Then let's begin the collapse."