While the rest of the Premier League was obsessed with Everton's bank accounts, Elias was looking at a map of Norway. It was late March 2016. In the original timeline, a fifteen-year-old giant named Erling Haaland was currently playing for Bryne FK's reserve team. He was a ghost—unseen, unheralded, and completely undervalued.
Elias knew that in a few years, this boy would become a "cyborg" that broke every goal-scoring record in England. He had to get to him before the Red Bull scouting machine or the Manchester giants woke up.
The Stealth Mission
Elias didn't take the club jet. He rented a private, nondescript propeller plane and flew into a small regional airport near Stavanger. He wore a heavy parka and a beanie, looking more like a hiker than the most controversial owner in world football.
The meeting didn't take place in a boardroom. It happened in a small, quiet café overlooking a freezing fjord. Sitting across from him was Alf-Inge Haaland—a man who knew the Premier League all too well—and his son, Erling.
Erling was lanky, his voice still changing, but his eyes had that same predatory spark Elias remembered from the 2023 Champions League posters.
The Pitch: "The Architecture of a Monster"
"I know you've had trials at Hoffenheim," Elias said, pushing a tablet across the table. It didn't show highlights; it showed a skeletal analysis and a projected growth chart.
"Your body is going to change, Erling," Elias continued. "You're going to put on fifteen kilograms of pure muscle in the next three years. Your sprint speed will rival Kylian Mbappé's. But if you go to a massive club now, they will try to fix your technique and slow you down. They'll treat you like a target man. You aren't a target man. You're a force of nature."
Alf-Inge narrowed his eyes. "You're talking like a doctor, Thorne. Not a manager."
"I'm talking like a man who has seen the end of the story," Elias replied. "At Everton, I've already built the 'Human Performance Lab.' We won't just train you; we will engineer you. Sleep cycles, specialized nutrition, and tactical drills designed for a player who can run 36 kilometers per hour."
The Secret Clause
Elias knew the Haalands valued one thing above all else: the career path. They didn't want him trapped.
"I'll give you a five-year contract," Elias said. "But I'll put in a release clause. £60 million, but only activatable after three years. I'm so confident that you'll be worth £200 million by then that I'm willing to let you go for a 'bargain' if you want to leave. But you won't want to leave. Because by 2019, Everton will be the biggest club on the planet."
Erling leaned forward, his massive hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa. "You have Mbappé. I saw the Spurs game. You played him as a wide forward. Where do I fit?"
"Kylian is the lightning," Elias said, a grin spreading across his face. "You are the thunder. He creates the chaos; you finish it. I'm building a 'Twin-Engine' system. No defense in history can track two players with your combined verticality."
The Handshake in the Cold
Alf-Inge looked at his son, then back at Elias. "The Premier League is investigating you, Elias. They say you're a cheat. They say your money is 'magic.'"
"They say that because they're losing," Elias shrugged. "In 2016, I'm a cheat. In 2020, I'll be a visionary. Does it matter to you?"
The elder Haaland smiled. He liked the arrogance. It reminded him of the old-school winners. "We'll sign. But Erling stays in Norway to finish the season. He joins your 'Performance Lab' in July."
"Deal," Elias said, shaking the boy's hand. It felt like shaking a piece of industrial granite.
The Return
As Elias boarded his plane back to Liverpool, his phone lit up. It was a news alert:
"BREAKING: LIVERPOOL FC ANNOUNCE 'KLOPP REVOLUTION' – ANFIELD READY FOR MERSEYSIDE DERBY."
The "Prophet" checked his calendar. The derby was in four days. In the old timeline, Klopp was just starting to build his "Heavy Metal" football. Elias was about to show him that the future of music wasn't heavy metal—it was a perfectly tuned, high-frequency algorithm.
But then, a second message appeared. A photo of Elias at the Stavanger airport, taken from a distance.
"Nice trip to Norway, Elias. The FA is asking why the Everton owner is scouting 15-year-olds in the middle of a financial audit. The walls are closing in."
Elias deleted the message and looked out at the clouds. "Let them close in," he whispered. "I'm already outside the box."