Bang!
The sound was like a gunshot echoing across the training grounds of OGC Nice.
The goalkeeper didn't even move. He just stood there, staring at the white mesh rippling violently.
"Nice shot, Lighthouse!" one of the teammates shouted, though the tone was laced with sarcasm.
Adrian ignored the nickname. He stood at the edge of the penalty box, wiping sweat from his forehead.
At 188cm, he towered over most of the U18 squad. He had the build of a classic target man.
But that was where the praise ended.
"Alright, switch! Match simulation!" the U18 coach blew his whistle.
The training session shifted. This was the moment Adrian dreaded the most.
As long as the ball was stationary, Adrian was a god. But football wasn't a turn-based game.
The midfielder passed the ball to Adrian. It was a simple ground pass. Adrian tried to control it, but his feet felt like they were made of concrete.
The ball bounced five meters away from his shin.
"Oh, come on!" a defender groaned.
Adrian gritted his teeth and chased after the loose ball. He looked like a giraffe trying to skate on ice.
His movements were clunky, stiff, and painfully slow. Before he could even shield the ball, a scrawny winger, half his size, simply poked the ball away and ran circles around him.
Laughter erupted from the sidelines.
"Look at him turn! It takes three business days for him to change direction!"
Adrian's face burned with shame. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He knew he was trash. He knew it better than anyone.
Up in the stands, the atmosphere was heavy.
Lucien, the manager of the OGC Nice first team, rubbed his temples.
He looked like he hadn't slept in a week.
"Is this it?" Lucien asked, his voice flat.
"This is the future of our club?"
Beside him, the Head of Youth Development, Jean, looked nervous. "The injury crisis in the first team is severe, Boss. Our main striker is out for six months. Our backup pulled his hamstring yesterday. We have to promote someone from the U18s."
Lucien pointed a shaking finger at the pitch below. Specifically, at Adrian, who had just tripped over his own feet while trying to dribble past a cone.
"And you want me to pick... that?" Lucien asked, incredulous. "Look at him. He's huge, but he moves like a rusted tractor. He has zero technique. Zero pace. He's a liability."
Jean sighed. "He has a world-class shot, Boss. If he gets the ball in the box—"
"If?" Lucien scoffed, cutting him off. "In Ligue 1, you don't get 'if'. The defenders will eat him alive before he can even lift his leg to shoot. How is a person like him even here? He's garbage."
Lucien stood up, buttoning his coat. "I'm done looking. We'll play without a striker next week. It's better than putting a clown on the pitch."
On the field, Adrian looked up. He saw the First Team manager walking away, shaking his head. He didn't need to hear the words to know what they meant.
Rejection.
That evening, the locker room was silent for Adrian.
While other players joked about their weekend plans or the girls they were texting, Adrian packed his bag quickly.
"Hey, Lighthouse," the team captain smirked, patting Adrian's shoulder. "Maybe you should switch sports? I heard the volleyball team needs a net post."
The locker room erupted in laughter again.
Adrian didn't reply. He threw his bag over his shoulder and walked out into the rainy streets of Nice.
His apartment was a small, cramped studio near the stadium. It was all he could afford on his youth contract, a contract that was set to expire in two months.
He threw his bag on the floor and collapsed onto his cheap mattress.
"Trash," Adrian whispered to the ceiling.
"Everyone says it. Maybe they're right."
He closed his eyes. He could picture the goal perfectly. He knew the exact angle, the wind speed, the spin required.
Shooting was useless if you couldn't get into position to shoot.
"I just want a chance," he muttered, his consciousness fading as exhaustion took over. "Just one chance to show them..."
Darkness consumed him.
[Ding!]
A sharp, mechanical sound pierced Adrian's sleep.
[Ding!]
[System Compatibility Check... 100%]
[Host Detected: Adrian Dubois]
[Binding the Super Striker System...]
Adrian's eyes snapped open. He sat up, gasping for air.
The room was dark, but a bright, translucent blue light was hovering right in front of his face.
"What the...?" He rubbed his eyes. "Am I dreaming?"
He waved his hand through the light, but the text remained, floating in the air.
[Binding Complete.]
[Welcome, Host. The 'One-Shot Kill' System is now online.]
[Beginner Gift Pack detected. Would you like to open it?]
Adrian pinched his arm. Hard. It hurt.
"It's not a dream," he whispered. His heart began to hammer against his ribs like a drum. He had read enough webnovels to know what this was.
It was his golden finger.
"Yes!" Adrian shouted, his voice cracking. "Open it! Open everything!"
[Ding!]
[Opening Beginner Gift Pack...]
A virtual roulette wheel appeared on the blue screen, spinning rapidly. Gold, purple, and blue lights flashed, illuminating his dark room.
[Congratulations! You have received:]
[1. Eye of Truth (Passive): Allows you to view your own stats and the stats of others.]
[2. One (1) Attribute Reset Potion.]
Adrian stared at the rewards, his mouth hanging open.
A dopamine rush hit him harder than any goal he had ever scored.
"Stats," he commanded, his voice trembling with excitement. "Show me my stats."
[Ding!]
A new window popped up, displaying a 3D hologram of his body alongside a list of numbers.
[Status Window]
Name: Adrian Dubois
Age: 18
Height: 188cm
Position: Striker (ST)
Evaluation: An unbalanced cripple with a cannon for a leg.
[Attributes (Max Value: 200)]
Physical:
Speed: 42 (Trash)
Stamina: 55 (Weak)
Strength: 160 (Elite)
Balance: 30 (Toddler Level)
Technical:
Dribbling: 15 (Pathetic)
Passing: 40 (Bad)
First Touch: 25 (Disaster)
Shooting: 188 (World Class)
Heading: 80 (Average)
Mental:
Composure: 60
Vision: 50
Adrian stared at the numbers. The brutal honesty of the system stung, but it also validated everything. A score of 200 was the theoretical max? And his dribbling was... 15?
"No wonder I trip over the ball," he laughed bitterly. "I have the dribbling skills of a traffic cone."
But that Shooting stat.
188.
It was nearly maxed out. He was a glitched character. A broken build.
"And the potion?"
[Attribute Reset Potion: Allows the Host to redistribute 20 points from one stat to another. Single use.]
Adrian looked at his stats again. He looked at Heading (80) and Passing (40).
"I don't need to pass," Adrian grinned, a savage light entering his eyes. "And I don't need to head the ball if I'm going to shoot from outside the box."
"System! Use the potion! Take 20 points from Heading and add them to Strength!"
[Ding!]
[Processing...]
[Strength: 160 -> 180]
[Heading: 80 -> 60]
A sudden surge of heat rushed through his muscles. His shoulders broadened slightly, his core tightened. He felt like he could run through a brick wall.
He stood up from the bed.
The floorboards creaked under his weight. He felt heavy, grounded, and dangerous.
Tomorrow was the final selection match for the First Team promotion. The manager, Lucien, had already written him off. Everyone had written him off.
Adrian looked at the blue screen glowing in the darkness.
[Daily Sign-In Available: Do you wish to sign in?]
"Sign in."
[Ding!]
[Sign-In Successful! Reward: 1x Basic Stamina Recovery Potion.]
Adrian clenched his fist.
"You think I'm trash?" Adrian looked at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes burning with intensity.
"You think I'm a lighthouse?"
He grabbed a football from the corner of his room and squeezed it. The leather creaked under his grip strength of 180.
[Ding!]
[New Mission Generated: The First Slap.]
[Objective: Score a hat-trick in the practice match tomorrow.]
[Reward: 10 Attribute Points + New Skill: Ball Magnet.]
[Failure Penalty: System Unbinding.]