Chapter 22 – the unseen burden
February 3rd, 2008 – Borussia Dortmund Training Ground
The silence in the locker room after the Cottbus defeat was heavier than usual. It wasn't the angry, frustrated silence of a team that had fought and lost, but the stunned quiet of one that had simply… underperformed. Nico Valen sat hunched on the bench, his head in his hands, the dull throb behind his eyes now a relentless hammer. The 6.8 match rating, a season low, felt like a brand on his forehead.
> System Status: Mental Fatigue – 68% (Severe)
> Warning: Prolonged critical fatigue may lead to permanent neural damage. Immediate and sustained rest is imperative.
The words screamed at him from the translucent HUD, a stark contrast to the quiet despair of the room. Permanent neural damage. The phrase echoed in his mind, chilling him more than the cold winter air seeping through the vents. This wasn't just about football anymore. This was about his future, his very being.
He felt a presence beside him. Dr. Schmidt, the team doctor, a man whose usual calm demeanor was now etched with concern. "Nico," he said, his voice low, "we need to talk. Your performance yesterday… it wasn't just an off day. You looked disoriented. Your reaction times were off. And those headaches you mentioned?"
Nico forced himself to look up, trying to project an image of tired normalcy. "Just a bit of a bug, Doc. The winter break, maybe. Came back a bit rusty."
Dr. Schmidt's gaze was piercing. "Nico, I've been doing this a long time. This isn't a bug. This is something else. I want you in for a full neurological workup first thing tomorrow. MRI, EEG, comprehensive blood panel. No training until we get some answers."
Nico's heart hammered against his ribs. An MRI? An EEG? They'd find nothing, of course. But the process, the questions, the forced rest… it would expose him. It would show the world that the system, his secret, was also his weakness. He couldn't afford that. Not now, when he was so close to proving himself.
"Doc, really, it's not necessary," Nico tried, his voice a little too eager. "I just need a good night's sleep. I'll be fine."
Dr. Schmidt placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Nico, you're a valuable asset to this club. More importantly, you're a young man with a bright future. We're not taking any chances. This isn't a request, it's an order. You're benched until we clear this up."
Nico swallowed, the words like lead in his stomach. Benched. Just when the Henry template was within reach, just when the team needed him most. He nodded, defeated. "Understood, Doc."
As Dr. Schmidt walked away, Nico felt a pair of eyes on him. Lukas Brandt, standing by his locker, was watching him with an unreadable expression. A flicker of triumph? Or just confirmation of his suspicions? Nico couldn't tell, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.
---
February 4th, 2008 – Dortmund Medical Center
The sterile white walls of the medical center felt oppressive. Nico lay in the MRI machine, the rhythmic thumping and whirring echoing in his ears, amplifying the persistent hum in his head. He felt like a specimen, his brain being dissected by unseen forces. He knew they wouldn't find the Divinus Calcio system, but the fear of discovery, of being exposed as something… unnatural, was palpable.
> System Notification: Attempting to mask neural activity. Efficiency: 45%. Risk of detection: Low.
Masking neural activity? The system was actively trying to hide itself. It was a relief, but also a terrifying realization. This wasn't just a tool; it was an entity, with its own will, its own self-preservation instincts. What else was it capable of?
Later, during the EEG, electrodes plastered to his scalp, Nico tried to empty his mind, to quiet the constant stream of data and predictions. But it was like trying to stop a river. The 'Elite Vision' kept highlighting patterns in the doctor's movements, predicting the next question, analyzing the subtle shifts in the nurse's expression. He was trapped in a perpetual state of heightened awareness.
---
February 5th, 2008 – Training Ground, Dortmund
Nico watched from the sidelines, a phantom limb ache in his feet. The team was running drills, preparing for the next match against Hansa Rostock. He saw Lukas Brandt, vibrant and energetic, making sharp runs, delivering crisp passes. Lukas seemed to have an extra spring in his step, a newfound confidence. He was seizing his opportunity.
During a water break, Lukas approached Nico, a casual smile on his face. "Tough break, Valen. Hope you get well soon. We need you out there." The words were polite, but the tone was laced with something else – a subtle challenge, a hint of schadenfreude.
"Thanks, Brandt," Nico replied, his voice flat. "Just a bit of fatigue. Nothing serious."
Lukas chuckled. "Fatigue? You looked like you were running on fumes, mate. Everyone noticed. Even Coach Doll looked worried." He paused, then leaned in conspiratorially. "You know, some of the lads are saying you're pushing too hard. Trying to do too much. Maybe you should just… relax. Let others carry the load sometimes."
The implication was clear: Nico was a liability. He was no longer the indispensable maestro. He was a burden. The words hit a raw nerve. Nico's jaw tightened, but he forced himself to remain calm. He couldn't give Lukas the satisfaction of a reaction.
"I appreciate the concern, Lukas," Nico said, his voice dangerously low. "But I know my limits. And I know what I need to do."
Lukas just shrugged, a knowing smirk on his face, and walked away. Nico watched him go, a cold fury simmering beneath his calm exterior. He had to get back on the pitch. He had to prove them all wrong. But how? How could he fight an enemy he couldn't even acknowledge?
---
February 6th, 2008 – Nico's Apartment
Alone in his apartment, Nico opened the Divinus Calcio interface. The 'Mental Fatigue' warning was still there, now at 72%. He scrolled through the system's options, desperate for a solution. There had to be a way to mitigate this, to turn off the constant processing, to dim the 'Elite Vision' when he didn't need it.
He found a new tab, previously greyed out: **[System Settings]**.
He tapped it. A list of toggles appeared:
* **Elite Vision:** [ON] (Toggle to OFF to reduce neural load)
* **Passive Skill Integration:** [AUTOMATIC] (Toggle to MANUAL to control skill activation)
* **System Notifications:** [ALL] (Filter options: Critical Only, Match Only)
* **Neural Processing Optimization:** [ACTIVE] (Warning: Disabling may reduce overall system efficiency)
Nico stared at the 'Elite Vision' toggle. Could it be that simple? Could he just turn it off? The thought was both liberating and terrifying. It was his greatest asset, the source of his genius. But it was also the source of his pain.
He hesitated, his finger hovering over the [OFF] button. What if turning it off meant losing his edge? What if he couldn't turn it back on? What if he reverted to the player he was before, the one who failed?
But the alternative was permanent neural damage. And the humiliation of being sidelined, of watching Lukas Brandt take his place. He had to try. He had to take control.
With a deep breath, he tapped **[Elite Vision: OFF]**.
> System Notification: Elite Vision Deactivated. Neural Processing Load Reduced. Mental Fatigue Recovery Initiated.
A wave of quiet washed over his mind. The constant hum, the predictive lines, the overwhelming data stream – it was gone. His head still ached, but it was a dull, manageable pain, not the relentless hammering from before. He felt… normal. Just a regular sixteen-year-old, tired after a long season.
He closed his eyes, a profound sense of relief washing over him. He had found a way. A temporary solution, perhaps, but a solution nonetheless. He could manage this. He could fight back.
But as he drifted off to sleep, a new question formed in his mind: What kind of player would he be without the constant guidance of the system? Would he still be the maestro, the prodigy? Or would he be just Nico Valen, a talented but ordinary footballer? The answer would determine his future.
To be continued in Chapter 24 – The Test of Silence.