[ Hello, Julian Ashford. ]
The glowing text on the screen faded—
And from the monitor, something strange emerged.
A small creature slowly floated out.
No larger than a child’s head, its form shimmered like smoke lit by moonlight.
It looked like a goblin—round head, oversized ears, jagged teeth—
But its skin was blue, not green, and it gave off a faint ethereal glow.
Not flesh and blood. Not illusion either.
It hovered weightlessly in the air, flickering slightly like a flame.
Julian instinctively reached out to touch it.
His fingers passed right through.
"What... are you?" he asked, eyes narrowing, body tensing.
The little creature grinned wide, baring its needle-like teeth.
[ I am your System. My name is Ashi. ]
Its voice wasn’t physical. It didn’t vibrate the air—it echoed directly into his mind.
[ I’m here to assist you. You, a soul that has crossed between worlds, have been granted a mission. ]
Julian’s breath caught.
His fingers twitched.
In his old world, missions were given by kings, by gods, by warlords.
They always came with a price.
"What kind of mission?"
[ To fulfill the wishes of the original Julian Ashford—the one whose body you now inhabit. ]
Julian’s expression darkened.
This wasn’t his world.
This wasn’t his family.
This wasn’t his fate.
He clenched his fist weakly.
Even his rage felt dulled in this fragile body.
[ And if you succeed... we will grant you a reward. ]
The voice shifted—deeper, slower, almost reverent.
[ You will be allowed to return... to your original world. ]
Julian’s thoughts froze.
"In my own body... or someone else’s?"
Ashi floated in a lazy circle, its grin never fading.
[ You can choose. Return to your original body, and change your fate. Or be reborn anew—with the power to seek revenge. ]
Julian’s heart pounded.
Visions burned behind his eyes.
His comrades turning their blades against each other.
The way his body had failed him.
The way his trust had destroyed him.
He had promised himself—if he ever got another chance...
"I accept," Julian whispered.
[ SYSTEM INITIALIZING... ]
A brilliant light filled the monitor. Strange symbols swirled across the air like sparks from an ancient forge.
Then, text appeared—clean, crisp, glowing with faint energy
State: Physically Fragile
➤ [Battlefield Mind: Lv.1] – Passive
You react like a warrior. Movement predictions, pressure reading, and timing enhanced.
➤ [Martial Memory: Lv.0]
Martial techniques will adapt into this world as your body grows
A transparent screen hovered before Julian like a glowing scroll.
It floated in midair—clear, readable, alive.
Stats. Skills. Numbers.
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
"What kind of system is this?"
[Host, this is your Attribute Interface.]
Ashi floated beside him, still glowing like a phantom.
[Before I explain further... your mission is to fulfill the wish of the previous Julian Ashford.]
The little goblin raised a finger and tapped Julian on the temple—
And then everything flooded in.
Memories that weren’t his.
Flashes of a boy trapped in a fragile body.
Coughing blood while watching others run under the sun.
A boy who loved every sport—baseball, basketball, football, MMA, and Soccer.
But his body couldn’t keep up.
So he watched. He played in games.
Virtual worlds became his only field.
That room—his sanctuary—was filled with consoles and screens not for entertainment,
So that’s what this is.
"So... you want me to become the GOAT of all sports?" he asked slowly.
Ashi shook its glowing head.
[No. You will choose only one. But first—]
A sudden sound echoed—
Play Soccer Career Video game
Play Basketball Career Video Game
Play American Football Career Video Game
Play MMA Career Video Game
Play Baseball Career Video Game
Reward: 1 x Mana stone
[After completing this quest, host will choose one sport to devote your soul to. That will be your Path.]
Julian looked at the floating panel.
The quest window faded. Ashi floated back into view, arms crossed, a smug grin on its tiny face.
[Well then, host... I assume you don’t know how to play video games, do you?]
Julian gave it a flat look.
[Perfect. Let’s start from the basics. First step... pick up the controller.]
From that day forward, Julian became a gamer.
Even though his fingers trembled, and his grip was awkward, he persisted.
At first, the controller slipped. Buttons blurred together. The joystick twisted the wrong way.
Muscle memory began to form.
A warrior’s discipline transcended worlds.
Too much running. Too little hitting.
But there was a rhythm to it—
Footwork that reminded him of a duel.
The weight of a pass. The timing of a strike.
It was more than just a game—it was movement, instinct, and flow.
"They call this ’physical’? I’ve fought with blades heavier than these kids."
He grinned despite himself.
This one had potential.
Everyone chased height.
But spacing, movement, and passing told a different story.
Fluid rhythm. Split-second reactions.
It was like swordplay without swords.
"Why do they carry the ball like it’s an egg? Let me strike with it."
He chuckled. The tactics were crude, but the structure intrigued him.
Third: American Football
"You mean I can body slam someone—and it’s legal?"
Now this sparked something.
Raw strength. Strategy. Positioning.
"They stop every ten seconds. Are they warriors... or nobles on parade?"
He appreciated the chaos. But the pacing grated on his soul.
Stillness... followed by explosions of power.
One pitcher. One batter. A silent battlefield.
Julian respected the tension.
"One strike every minute? Let me face a hundred enemies instead."
Too much waiting. Too little action.
"These are techniques? Amateurs mimicking true combat. Still, they try."
Each fighter was a half-done recipe.
But within their broken forms was rhythm. Adaptability. Movement.
"They call it ’mixed martial arts,’ but it’s just a shattered reflection of ten real disciplines. Still..."
He watched carefully. Every weakness became a lesson.
Every flaw, a potential weapon.
"I’ll use it—not in the cage—but on the field."
Every game taught him something.
And yet, none felt complete.
The sport that best channels his instinct.
His strength. His rage. His mind.
The one where he could dance like a swordsman.
Think like a general.
Strike like a killer.