Ethan Cole stood in the middle of his childhood bedroom, the faint glow of the Football System's interface still hovering in his vision. The date was June 1, 2011, and he was sixteen again, his lanky frame unmarred by the weariness of his past life. The posters of Cristiano Ronaldo and Wayne Rooney stared down at him, as if daring him to make good on this impossible second chance. His heart raced—not with the despair that had driven him to that bridge in 2025, but with a fire he hadn't felt in years.
The system's golden text blinked insistently:
**Football System: S-Class Striker Template (Thierry Henry, 2003 Arsenal Peak)**
- Speed: 85/100
- Finishing: 80/100
- Dribbling: 82/100
- Milestones: Locked (Highbury Sprint, Arsenal's Elegance, Va-Va-Voom Finishing)
- Assimilation Progress: 0%
- First Task: Join a local club and score in your debut match.
- Reward: Unlock 'Highbury Sprint' milestone (Speed +5).
- Penalty for Failure: -10% shooting accuracy for one month.
Ethan's lips curled into a grin. "Thierry Henry," he whispered, picturing the Arsenal legend's graceful runs, his deadly finishes, his effortless swagger. This was no dream—it was real, and the system was his ticket to greatness. But the warning about penalties gnawed at him. He'd learned the hard way in his first life: nothing came for free. If he slacked off, the system would make him pay.
He grabbed a worn pair of trainers and a deflated football from under his bed, the same one he'd kicked around as a kid. His parents were downstairs, arguing over bills—same as always. Ethan slipped out the back door, heading for the local pitch at Willow Creek Park. The summer air was crisp, the sky a bruised purple as dusk settled. He had one week until Willow Creek FC's youth team tryouts, and he wasn't about to waste it.
The pitch was empty, save for a few kids messing around with a frisbee. Ethan set up a makeshift goal using two rusted bins and started dribbling. His body felt different—lighter, sharper, like the Henry template was already rewiring his muscles. He flicked the ball up, juggled it with a finesse he'd never had in his first life, and took a shot. The ball sailed wide, thudding into the grass.
**System Notification: Shot Accuracy -5% (Lack of Training). Recommended Action: Complete 50 shots to improve Finishing.**
Ethan cursed under his breath. "Already judging me, huh?" He retrieved the ball and started again, focusing on the system's advice. Each shot felt like a conversation with the system, his body adjusting to the Henry template's rhythm. By the twentieth shot, he was hitting the bins consistently, the ball pinging off the metal with satisfying clangs.
**System Update: Finishing Progress +2%. Assimilation Progress: 5%.**
Ethan wiped sweat from his brow, his chest heaving. The system was relentless, but it was working. He could feel it—the confidence, the precision, the ghost of Thierry Henry guiding his movements. For the next three hours, he ran drills: sprints to boost speed, cone weaves for dribbling, shots for finishing. The system pinged with each milestone ticked forward:
**Speed Progress +3%. Dribbling Progress +2%. Assimilation Progress: 10%.**
By the time he stumbled home, his legs were jelly, and his shirt was soaked. His mum, Karen, was in the kitchen, stirring a pot of stew. "Where've you been, Ethan? You look like you've run a marathon."
"Just… training," he panted, grabbing a glass of water. In his first life, he'd avoided her questions, too ashamed of his failures. Now, he met her eyes. "I'm trying out for Willow Creek FC this weekend."
Karen raised an eyebrow, skeptical but hopeful. "You sure, love? Last time you tried, you said it wasn't for you."
Ethan smiled, a spark of defiance in his chest. "This time's different."
---
The week flew by in a blur of training. Ethan woke at dawn, sneaking out to the pitch before school and returning after dark. The system was both coach and taskmaster, assigning drills with brutal precision:
- **Speed Drill**: 100 sprints (50 meters each) to unlock Highbury Sprint.
- **Dribbling Drill**: 200 ball touches through cones to improve Arsenal's Elegance.
- **Finishing Drill**: 50 shots on target to enhance Va-Va-Voom Finishing.
Each night, the system updated his progress:
**Assimilation Progress: 25%. Warning: Incomplete assimilation may result in performance penalties during matches.**
Ethan pushed harder, ignoring the blisters on his feet and the ache in his muscles. He wasn't just training for tryouts—he was rewriting his destiny. In his first life, he'd been too lazy, too quick to give up. Not this time.
The tryout day arrived, a sunny Saturday at Willow Creek Park. The pitch was buzzing with hopefuls—kids from the estate, some with shiny new boots, others with hand-me-downs like Ethan's. Coach Hargreaves, a grizzled former semi-pro with a permanent scowl, barked orders as he sized up the group.
"Line up!" Hargreaves shouted. "Show me you've got something worth my time."
Ethan felt the Henry template hum in his veins, like a low electric current. The tryout was simple: a series of drills followed by a scrimmage. He breezed through the sprints, his speed leaving others in the dust. The system pinged:
**Highbury Sprint Progress: 50%. Speed: 87/100.**
The dribbling drill was tougher. Ethan weaved through cones, but a clumsy touch sent the ball rolling away. A lanky kid with a cocky grin—Jake Turner—snickered. "Nice one, Cole. Still tripping over your own feet?"
Ethan's jaw tightened. Jake had been his tormentor in his first life, a naturally gifted striker who'd mocked Ethan's lack of skill. Now, with the system, Ethan wasn't the same loser. He reset, focused, and nailed the next weave, earning a nod from Hargreaves.
**Arsenal's Elegance Progress: 30%. Dribbling: 83/100.**
The scrimmage was Ethan's chance to shine. He was assigned to the blue team, wearing a faded number 9 bib. Jake, on the red team, smirked as they faced off. The system's task loomed in Ethan's mind: *Score in your debut match.* This wasn't the official debut, but it was close enough to count.
The whistle blew, and Ethan moved like a predator. The Henry template gave him instincts he'd never had—reading the game, finding space, anticipating passes. In the 10th minute, a teammate lofted a ball over the top. Ethan sprinted, outpacing Jake, and controlled it with a silky touch. The keeper rushed out, but Ethan's shot went wide.
**Penalty Applied: -5% Shot Accuracy (Incomplete Assimilation).**
Ethan growled, shaking it off. Jake laughed, jogging past. "Same old Ethan. All heart, no finish."
The taunt lit a fire in Ethan's chest. He doubled down, chasing every ball, pressing defenders. In the 25th minute, he intercepted a sloppy pass, darted past two defenders, and fired a low shot. The ball clipped the post and went in.
**Goal! Task Progress: 50%. Va-Va-Voom Finishing Progress: 40%.**
The blue team cheered, but Ethan barely noticed. The system's voice was louder: **Continue scoring to complete task.**
The scrimmage ended 2–1, with Ethan's goal the decider. Hargreaves pulled him aside after, his scowl softer than usual. "You've got something, Cole. Never seen you move like that. You're on the team. First match is next Saturday against Stonefield United. Don't let me down."
Ethan nodded, adrenaline pumping. "I won't, Coach."
As he walked home, the system updated:
**Assimilation Progress: 30%. Task Progress: 75%. Warning: Score in the official debut match to complete task.**
That night, Ethan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The system's interface glowed faintly, showing his stats. He was faster, sharper, better—but not enough. The penalties scared him. A -10% shooting accuracy could cost him the task, and he couldn't afford to fail. Not again.
He thought about his first life, the years of rejection, the bridge. Then he thought about the future—stadiums packed with fans chanting his name, headlines calling him a legend, maybe even a date with someone like Taylor Swift. And money. Enough to buy clubs, companies, a whole empire. The system was his cheat code, but it demanded work.
Ethan sat up, grabbing his phone. He searched for Willow Creek FC's next opponent, Stonefield United. They had a solid keeper, but their left-back was slow. He could exploit that with the Henry template's speed. He jotted down a plan: more sprints, more shots, no slacking.
The system pinged, as if approving:
**New Drill Unlocked: Precision Finishing. Complete 100 shots with 80% accuracy to boost Finishing +5.**
Ethan smirked. "Let's do this."
The next morning, he was back at the pitch before dawn, the ball at his feet, the system's voice in his head. Stonefield United wouldn't know what hit them. Neither would Jake Turner, or the scouts, or the world. Ethan Cole was no longer a nobody. He was the reborn striker, and this was just the beginning.