Ethan Cole sprinted across Willow Creek Park, the morning sun glinting off the dew-soaked grass. It was June 15, 2011, two weeks until his Leicester City trial, and the Football System's interface glowed faintly in his mind, less like a drill sergeant and more like a seasoned coach offering advice:
**Football System: S-Class Striker Template (Thierry Henry, 2003 Arsenal Peak)**
- Speed: 93/100 (Highbury Sprint 70%)
- Finishing: 83/100 (Va-Va-Voom Finishing 50%)
- Dribbling: 84/100 (Arsenal's Elegance 45%)
- Assimilation Progress: 40%
- Task: Impress at Leicester City trial (July 2011).
- Reward: Unlock 'Arsenal's Elegance' milestone (Dribbling +5).
- Advisory: Consistent training recommended to maximize performance. Low assimilation may reduce effectiveness in key moments.
Ethan appreciated the system's lighter touch. After his make-out with Mia Hart last week, it hadn't slapped him with a harsh penalty—just a gentle nudge about focus. It was as if the system understood he was human, not a machine. Still, the trial loomed large, and Jake Turner's smug face was a constant motivator. Ethan wasn't just chasing a contract; he was chasing a legacy—stadiums roaring his name, a future where he owned clubs and companies, maybe even stealing the spotlight from stars like Ronaldo.
He set up cones for the system's latest drill:
**Dribbling Mastery Drill: Complete 300 ball touches through cones with 85% accuracy. Progress: 70%. Reward: Dribbling +3.**
Ethan weaved through the cones, the Henry template making his movements fluid, almost instinctive. The ball danced under his foot, a stark contrast to the clumsy kid he'd been in his first life. He could feel Arsenal's Elegance taking shape—Henry's silky control, his ability to glide past defenders. By the 250th touch, he was in a rhythm, the system chiming softly:
**Drill Progress: 85%. Dribbling: 85/100. Arsenal's Elegance Progress: 55%.**
He paused, catching his breath. The system didn't bark a warning when he stopped, just offered a suggestion: **Advisory: Complete drill today to boost trial performance.** Ethan nodded to himself. "Got it," he muttered, resuming the drill. The system was his edge, but it wasn't his master. He'd train hard because he wanted to, not because he was scared of a penalty.
At home, his mum was ironing his Willow Creek FC kit, humming softly. "You're up early again, Ethan," she said, smiling. "This Leicester trial's got you proper focused."
"Yeah," Ethan said, grabbing a banana. "It's my shot, Mum. I'm not messing it up."
His dad, reading the paper, grunted. "Just don't get cocky. Talent's nothing without work."
Ethan bit back a retort. In his first life, his dad's doubts had fueled his despair. Now, they were just a reminder to keep grinding. "Don't worry," he said, heading out. "I'm putting in the work."
---
That afternoon, Willow Creek FC had a friendly against a nearby club, a warm-up for the season. Ethan arrived early, warming up on the pitch when Jake Turner strolled by, wearing Stonefield United's red kit. Jake was trialing with Leicester too, and the coincidence wasn't lost on Ethan. The system hadn't warned him about rivals, but Jake's presence felt like a challenge from the universe itself.
"Still dreaming big, Cole?" Jake called, juggling a ball with infuriating ease. "Leicester's gonna eat you alive."
Ethan smirked, the Henry template boosting his confidence. "We'll see who's eating what, Turner. Save your tears for the trial."
Jake's eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Coach Hargreaves blew his whistle. "Enough chit-chat! Cole, you're starting. Show me you're ready for Leicester."
The friendly was scrappy, but Ethan was electric. In the 15th minute, he picked up a loose ball, nutmegged a defender, and fired a low shot past the keeper. The small crowd—mostly parents and locals—cheered, and Ethan felt the system's approval:
**Goal! Va-Va-Voom Finishing Progress: 60%. Assimilation Progress: 42%.**
Jake answered with a goal for Stonefield, a curling free kick that left Ethan's keeper rooted. As Jake celebrated, he shot Ethan a look that said, *I'm still better.* Ethan clenched his fists. The trial would settle this.
Post-match, Hargreaves pulled Ethan aside. "Good goal, but you're holding back. Leicester wants flair. Show them the full package."
Ethan nodded, the system's task flashing in his mind: *Impress at Leicester City trial.* He had two weeks to polish his game, and he wasn't about to let Jake steal the spotlight.
---
That evening, Ethan met Mia Hart at a local café, The Brew, a cozy spot with fairy lights and mismatched chairs. Mia had texted him earlier, insisting he take a break from training. "You can't live on a pitch," she'd written, adding a winking emoji. Ethan had hesitated—the system's advisory about focus lingered—but he wasn't a monk. Besides, Mia was fun, and her flirty vibe was hard to resist.
She was waiting at a corner table, her pink hair tucked under a beanie, her phone out as she snapped a selfie with her latte. "Hey, superstar," she said, grinning as he sat down. "Heard you scored again today. You're making me look good for hyping you on Insta."
Ethan laughed, ordering a coke. "Glad I'm boosting your brand. What's the deal tonight?"
Mia leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. "Just wanted to hang. You're always running around like you're chasing a World Cup. Relax a little."
The system stayed quiet, no warnings about distractions. Ethan took it as a green light. They talked for an hour—her about her latest photo shoot, him about the Leicester trial. Mia's hand brushed his, and when she suggested a walk by the river, he didn't hesitate.
The riverbank was quiet, the water reflecting the town's lights. Mia stopped under a willow tree, her camera dangling from her neck. "You're different, Ethan," she said, stepping closer. "Like you've got this… fire. It's hot."
Ethan's pulse raced, the Henry template amplifying his charm. "You're not so bad yourself," he said, his voice low. Before he could think, Mia pulled him in, her lips crashing against his. The kiss was electric, deeper than their last, her hands sliding under his jacket as they stumbled against the tree. Ethan's hands found her waist, the heat of the moment drowning out everything else—Jake, the trial, even the system.
They made out for what felt like forever, her breath warm against his neck, his fingers tracing her back. When they finally pulled apart, Mia's eyes were bright, her lipstick smudged. "You're gonna be trouble, Ethan Cole," she said, laughing softly. "But I like trouble."
Ethan grinned, his head buzzing. "Good. 'Cause I'm just getting started."
As they walked back to town, the system chimed softly, not with a penalty but a neutral update: **Assimilation Progress Unchanged: 42%. Advisory: Balance personal pursuits with training for optimal trial performance.**
Ethan smirked. The system was giving him room to breathe, and he liked it. Mia was a spark in his life, a taste of the playboy future he dreamed of—maybe with bigger names like Taylor Swift or Shakira one day. But the trial came first.
---
The next morning, Ethan was back at the pitch, the system's advisory spurring him on. He tackled a new drill:
**Finishing Precision Drill: Score 50 goals from various angles with 80% accuracy. Reward: Finishing +3.**
He set up a goalpost with bins, firing shots from every angle—close range, long range, volleys. The Henry template made each strike feel natural, the ball curling into the target more often than not. By the 40th shot, he was in a zone, the system updating:
**Drill Progress: 90%. Finishing: 85/100. Va-Va-Voom Finishing Progress: 65%.**
A group of kids watched from the sidelines, whispering about his "pro moves." One of them, a scrawny boy with glasses, approached. "You're Ethan Cole, right? That goal against Stonefield was sick. You gonna play for Leicester?"
Ethan smiled, tossing him the ball. "That's the plan, kid. Keep practicing, yeah?"
The boy beamed, and Ethan felt a surge of pride. This was what he'd dreamed of in his first life—being someone kids looked up to, not a nobody who gave up. The system chimed:
**Morale Boost: Assimilation Progress +2%. Current Progress: 44%.**
As he packed up, Ethan spotted Jake training across the park, his movements sharp and deliberate. Jake caught his eye and mimed a throat-slash gesture. Ethan laughed, unfazed. "See you at the trial, Turner," he called.
Back home, Ethan's phone buzzed with a text from Mia: *You free tomorrow? Got a party at my mate's place. Be my plus-one?* He hesitated, the system's advisory about balance in his mind. A party could be fun, but the trial was 10 days away. He typed back: *Maybe. Gotta train, but I'll let you know.*
He lay in bed, the system's interface glowing faintly:
**Leicester City Trial: 10 days remaining. Continue training to unlock Arsenal's Elegance.**
Ethan's mind raced with possibilities—Leicester, the Premier League, a life of fame and wealth. Mia was a taste of that life, but Jake and the trial were the real tests. The system wasn't chaining him down anymore; it was guiding him toward greatness. He'd train harder, love smarter, and outshine everyone.
"Watch out, world," he whispered. "Ethan Cole's coming."