Earth. Mid-January 2019.
Aston Villa Youth Training Camp, Birmingham, England.
A cold wind was blowing across the pitch.
The match between Aston Villa U17 and Swansea U17 had just reached the minute and it was a complete mess.
The home team was three goals behind.
On the sideline youth coach Charles was getting very anxious. If they lost this match Villa U17 would have eight defeats.
His job was in trouble.
'No matter what,' he thought, pacing like a caged animal. 'We have to pull something out of our ass.'
Charles turned to look at the substitutes bench.
Before the second half had even started he had already put both of his backup forwards on the pitch. It wasn't working. The real problem was the midfield. Swanseas players were playing aggressively pressing so hard that Villas midfield couldn't make a single good pass.
Their forwards were just standing around.
To save the game Charles needed something to happen in the middle of the park.
He scanned the bench and his stomach dropped.
The only available midfielder was a black-haired kid slumped in the corner.
Theodore Bjorn.
Theodore had been with the academy for a while. He had never really played. In the U17 season he had only played two short games.
No goals, no assists.
'The kid was a real benchwarmer..' Looking at the rest of the bench Charles realized he only had defenders left.
He had no choice.
"Bjorn!" Charles shouted, marching over and tapping the back of the kids head. "Wake up! Get your gear off you're going in!"
The young man slowly opened his eyes.. Instead of his usual laziness his face was suddenly red with excitement.
A fierce determination burned in his eyes!
Five minutes ago Theodore Bjorn had realized something crazy: He wasn't in his world anymore.
He had been transmigrated.
Ten minutes ago Theodore had been sitting in his bedroom in 2024 watching the Chinese national team play terribly against Qatar.
After a time of extra play they lost 0-1 and that meant they were out of the Asian Cup knockout stage.
Three matches. Two draws. One loss.
Not a single goal scored.
It was the worst performance ever.
Theodore had gotten so angry that he had picked up a stool and thrown it at his TV.
In a flash of light he had been taken from mid-January 2024 and put into mid-January 2019.
A five-year jump backward.
His name was Theodore Bjorn.. In this timeline he was a half Norwegian half Chinese.
His dad lost his factory jobs in the 80s worked hard to build a trading company in Norway, marry a norwegian woman and eventually went bankrupt when the economy was bad.
Now they were working hard to run a Chinese restaurant.
To help them young Theodore had traveled to Birmingham alone to try to get a football contract.
Theodore remembered something else.
In his last life he had been a pro.
He had played for Taishan FC, a team in the Chinese Super League.. Because he refused to play along with the head coach unfair rules and politics, he was sent to the reserves.
After wasting his years on the bench he had been forced into an early retirement.
'Not anymore.'
Fate had given him a chance and his legs were practically shaking with excitement to play.
He was going to take back every single thing that was stolen from him.
Sure, it had been years since he last played professionally and the raw intensity of the English U17 league was a massive step up from the domestic youth garbage he was used to.
He had no idea if his current body could keep up.
But he didn't care.
Theodore gritted his teeth, stripped off his warmup jacket and stepped onto the pitch wearing the number 33 jersey.
The second his cleats touched the English grass, a cold mechanical voice echoed in his head.
[Ding! Host successfully transmigrated! God-Tier Midfielder System activated.]
[Loading: 30% ... 50% ... 100%]
[God-Tier Midfielder successfully loaded! Opening Host Attribute Panel.]
Host: Theodore Bjorn
Age: 17
Height: 183cm (still growing)
Weight: 75kg
Position: Midfielder
[Physical Attributes]
Speed: 72
Strength: 66
Jumping: 71
Health: 70
Stamina: 79
[Technical Attributes]
Long Pass: 69 | Short Pass: 69 | Through Ball: 68 | Curve: 67
Finishing: 68 | Long Shot: 69 | Set Pieces: 69 | Heading: 69 | Penalty: 68
First Touch: 67 | Vision: 62 | Dribbling: 67
Interception: 65 | Tackling: 74 | Slide Tackle: 65 | Defending: 67
Overall Rating: 69
Level: C
Star Player Skill Cards: None
(System Note: C-Level [60-75] Substitute top-five leagues)
(B-Level [76-85] Starter top-five leagues)
(A-Level [86-95] Star level, S-Level [96-100] Ballon d'Or level!)
'Holy shit,' Theodore thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. 'I have a fucking system.'
He scanned his stats and nearly laughed out loud. "This is insane. With a 69 overall, I could walk into the starting lineup of the Chinese national team right now!"
He wasn't exaggerating. C-Level might be substitute material in the Premier League, but back in China, he'd be a god on the pitch.
Before he could celebrate the voice chimed again.
[Congratulations to the Host for activating the system. Rewarding: Newbie Gift Pack!]
[Open the Newbie Gift Pack?]
Instantly, a holographic row of glowing cards materialized in front of him. Theodore reached out and casually tapped the one dead in the center. The card erupted in a blinding golden light, projecting two words into the air: PEAK CARD.
A moment later, the green, white, and red stripes of the Italian flag flared across his vision.
The flag dissolved, revealing the phantom silhouette of an absolute legend wearing the iconic Azzurri jersey.
Andrea Pirlo.
Theodore felt a rush of adrenaline.
He used to spam PES in his past life and this felt exactly like pulling an ultra-rare card!
[Ding! Congratulations, Host! You have drawn a Peak Card: Andrea Pirlo's Peak Long-Pass Attribute!]
[Long-Pass Attribute increased from 69 to 99!]
As the system integrated the skill, Theodore's overall rating instantly spiked from 69 to 72.
He knew exactly what he was holding now. Pirlo's not just a midfielder, he was a damn maestro.
He orchestrated the 2006 World Cup victory for Italy.
"Bjorn! Heads up!"
The frantic scream of a teammate snapped Bjorn back to reality.
He blinked, the holographic screens shattering, just in time to see the ball rolling rapidly toward his feet.
A Swansea midfielder was already charging at him, ready to press the new kid into the dirt.
Theodore just smirked.
'Perfect timing' he thought, shifting his weight.
'Let's see what a 99-rated Pirlo pass feels like.'
...
Theodore brought the ball down with a touch and he noticed that not a single Swansea player was trying to take it away from him. To them he was just a bench warmer. They did not think he was a threat.
'Perfect,' Theodore thought, a cold smile tugging at his lips.
He didn't need an invitation. Glancing up, his mind processed the pitch in a fraction of a second, calculating the exact trajectory needed.
Swish!
The inside of his right foot whipped through the ball with precision.
The stadium seemed to hold its breath as the ball traced a physics-defying arc through the chilly Birmingham air.
Two seconds later it landed at the feet of Aston Villas striker, Terr.
He was running at the Swansea goalkeeper with no one in his way. Terr did not even have to slow down. He just kicked the ball with all his might.
The ball went into the back of the net.
3-1!
Aston Villa U17 had finally scored a goal!
"Fuck yes, Bjorn! What a ball!" Terr screamed, turning around and aggressively pointing both thumbs at the new midfielder.
"Keep that shit coming! We can actually win this!"
On the touchline, Coach Charles was stunned into silence before his hands automatically started clapping.
His jaw was practically resting on the grass. He had not expected Theodore to do anything. Theodore had only seen the pitch twice this season, both times in absolute garbage time.
If his backup midfielder hadn't pulled a hamstring, Theodore wouldn't have even made the bench today.
'Is that... is that really Bjorn?' Charles thought, his heart beating fast.
'A two-goal deficit with 16 minutes left? It was a mountain, but suddenly, it felt climbable.'
"Press them!" Charles roared, his voice cracking with sudden desperate hope.
"High pressure! Don't give these Swansea fuckers an inch to breathe! We still have time!"
Fired up by the sudden lifeline, the Aston Villa squad hunted like a pack of starving wolves.
Just three minutes after the restart, they forced a panicked error and won the ball back in the midfield.
"Give me the ball!" Theodore bellowed, his right arm shooting up into the air.
His teammate didn't hesitate for a second.
After witnessing that god-tier pass, putting the ball at Bjorn's feet was the only logical choice.
Over on the Swansea bench, Coach Wright felt a cold sweat break out the second he saw the number 33 receive the ball.
"Close him down! Right now!" Wright shrieked. "Don't let that kid pick his head up! Break his rhythm!"
Wright wasn't about to let some unknown benchwarmer tear his defense apart a second time.
Instantly, two Swansea midfielders converged on Theodore, sliding in aggressively to snap the ball away.
But Theodore was ice cold. He knew exactly what he possessed now.
Boom!
Just a millisecond before the Swansea players crushed him, Theodore's right foot struck again.
This time, it was a low, perfectly lofted through-ball. And It was aimed at Andri.
As an African winger, Andri's raw pace was terrifying. He exploded past the Swansea backline like a blur. Theodore's pass bypassed three defenders and dropped perfectly into the open space right in front of Andri's sprinting path.
The timing was perfect.
Andri didn't take an extra touch. He let the ball bounce once inside the box and unleashed a violent volley before the scrambling defenders could even breathe on him.
The ball nearly tore a hole in the net!
3-2.
"What the actual fuck?!" Coach Wright spat on the away bench, kicking a water bottle across the technical area.
"How is this happening?!"
He couldn't believe it. Twice in five minutes, this kid had completely dismantled his entire defensive system with nothing but his right foot.
"Find out who that number 33 is right now!" Wright barked at his assistant. "That kid's vision is terrifying! There is no way in hell he's a normal 17-year-old!" Wright genuinely suspected the kid had forged his birth certificate.
Nobody at this level passed like that.
Seconds later, the assistant shoved an iPad into Wright's hands.
"Two appearances?" Wright muttered, his eyes wide. "Both as a sub? You've got to be shitting me! This kid could play for their first team! Why the hell has Aston Villa been hiding him?!"
Meanwhile, Charles was having an existential crisis of his own.
He was staring at Theodore like he was looking at a ghost.
Three years.
Three years this kid had been in the academy, and Charles had treated him like a training cone!
"Fuck me sideways," Charles muttered, dragging his hands down his face. "I'm blind. I almost wasted a generational talent."
Out on the pitch, the Swansea players were mentally falling apart.
Being carved open twice in minutes by a player they didnt even respect was breaking their spirits.
They were panicking, rushing their passes and making stupid mistakes.
In the 83rd minute, Villa pressed hard and stole the ball right outside the Swansea box!
This time, however, it was Andri who made the interception.
But the adrenaline had gone to his head.
Instead of resetting the play and finding his new maestro in the midfield, Andri got greedy. He tried to solo the entire Swansea defense, dribbling straight into a wall of three defenders.
With no space to maneuver, he forced a shot that was easily blocked by a center-back's chest.
The attack fizzled out instantly.
It was a glaring reminder: without Theodore pulling the strings, Villa's forwards were garbage.
Charles was livid.
He sprinted to the very edge of the technical area, veins popping in his neck.
"Andri, you greedy little shit!" Charles screamed at the top of his lungs. "Pass the damn ball to Bjorn! Let him run the goddamn offense! Stop playing hero!"