And on the fourth day—
➤ [Battlefield Mind] – Passive – Mytic
You react like a warrior. Movement predictions, pressure reading, and timing enhanced.
➤ [Martial Memory: Lv.0] – Passive – Mytic
Martial techniques will adapt into this world as your body grows.
Julian stood in the center of the yard, chest rising and falling with slow, deep breaths.
His shirt clung to him—drenched in sweat.
His body had changed.
His feet moved with more precision.
His touches on the ball were tighter, cleaner.
His Technique stat was now 6, and he could feel the difference in every dribble, every turn, every shot.
The stumbles were gone.
The ball danced instead of rolling wild.
Then, the sound came:
Achieve at least 70 in Total Stats
Julian didn’t hesitate.
Ashi materialized in front of him, glowing slightly brighter than usual.
[Host, before granting your new skill, I will explain the classification syste
Normal Rare Legendary Mystic
Passive – Always active, shapes your style Active – Requires focus or command to trigger
Julian nodded, locking it into memory.
"Normal to Mystic... Passive or Active."
His fingers twitched with anticipation.
The breeze brushed against his damp skin.
Leaves rustled quietly in the distance.
A single bird took off from the fence, startled by the hum of system energy.
Julian could feel it—something awakening.
The soft wind whispered through the backyard.
Grass bent in gentle waves.
Above him, clouds drifted across a wide, open sky.
[ Granting host the reward... ]
The familiar interface flickered.
A flash of blue light swept through his vision—
A ripple of energy passed through his spine like a current awakening long-dormant nerves.
[ Martial Memory: Lv.0 → Lv.1 ]
Type: Passive + Active
Martial techniques will adapt into this world as your body grows.
The change was subtle—no explosions, no divine trumpet.
The fog that once dulled his memory lifted just slightly.
Stances. Breathing forms. Step patterns.
Combat sequences that once took a lifetime to master—
"I can use any skill...?"
The thought sent a thrill down his spine.
He curled his fingers into a fist.
The art. The blade. The bone-deep rhythm of battle.
Still far... but no longer unreachable.
"Even if I could use them... this body wouldn’t survive it yet."
Slow. Measured. Controlled.
"So I choose wisely."
But before he could dwell deeper—
The System chimed again.
Win a 1 Real game in 3 days
Reward: + 10 Attribute
Failure : - 10 attribute
Julian narrowed his eyes.
The system never punished him before.
It was starting to push back.
"What’s so hard about that?"
He smiled—feral, eager.
The moment the system quest locked in, Julian moved.
He grabbed his smartphone—his fingers now more confident with the touch screen after weeks of use—and began to search.
"Play football near me..."
Soon, he stumbled across a local match-finder site, and from there, downloaded an app that let people schedule casual games in nearby parks or futsal fields.
To his surprise, it wasn’t just open slots.
Julian tapped "Newcomer."
It wasn’t pride holding him back—
"No point pretending to be a pro with this body," he muttered.
He scrolled through the upcoming matches.
Most were already full, or too far away.
"Friendly 7v7 – Newcomer Level – Saturday, 7 PM"
West Glendale Park — 15 minutes away.
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
"Ashi, does this count as a real football match?"
Ashi’s holographic form appeared by his shoulder, arms crossed.
[Yes, Host. 7v7 is classified as ’Mini Football’. The system accepts it.]
One win between him and +10 stats.
Or a crushing loss...
His eyes dropped to his feet.
He was still running drills barefoot or in thin house slippers.
"I’ll need proper cleats. Shin guards. Socks. Maybe even a kit."
He pulled out his smartphone and opened the Amazing app—Ashi had shown him how to use it last week.
"Newcomer football cleats""Compression socks""Lightweight training kit"
He compared brands, scrolled through reviews, and finally tapped through his selections.
Estimated Delivery: 1–2 Days.
With that settled, Julian leaned back and exhaled.
His body was warm with fatigue, but his mind was sharp.
He glanced at the faint system window hovering beside him.
The countdown had already started.
He stood up, cracked his knuckles, and stepped back outside.
His body wasn’t perfect yet.
His technique still raw.
Three days to sharpen his instincts.
Three days to prepare for war.
He would eat, train, rest, and repeat.
He had no team. No coach. No fans in the stands.
But it didn’t matter. The field would be his battlefield.
He would walk in as a soldier.
And walk out as a storm.
And when game day came—