Rain hammered against the metal roof of the abandoned district stadium, each drop echoing like a ticking countdown. The floodlights were dead, the seats empty, the field soaked. Only one figure remained under the open sky—Ares Locke, drenched, panting, and bruised.
He had been here for hours.
Running drills. Shooting. Sprinting until his lungs burned.
Alone.
Just like always.
Ares tightened the straps on his worn-out boots—boots older than most of his dreams. Lightning cracked overhead, illuminating the field and his tired face. His black hair stuck to his forehead, and his eyes—dark, intense, refusing to surrender—narrowed at the mock opponent mannequin in front of him.
One more shot.
He took three steps back, inhaled deeply, and sprinted forward. His leg swung with everything he had left.
BANG!
The ball flew… then curved at the last second and slammed off the crossbar.
Again.
Ares didn't even swear. He was past frustration. Past disappointment.
He simply lowered his head and let the rain wash over him.
He whispered to himself.
"Why can't I get better? Why can't I catch up… even just a little?"
Ares Locke—age eighteen—had one dream: to become a professional footballer.
Not a superstar, not the world's best—just someone good enough to prove he wasn't a mistake.
But reality was cruel.
No club wanted him.
No academy accepted him.
He wasn't fast enough, not talented enough, not "promising" enough.
He was the boy with nothing—no family support, no fancy training, no money.
Only stubbornness.
He lifted his head again.
"I'll keep trying… even if it kills me."
He stepped toward another ball, craving another chance—
—but the world suddenly froze.
The rain stopped mid-air.
The wind died.
Everything turned silent.
Ares blinked. "What the—"
A sharp chime rang inside his skull.
DING!
A connection has been established…
Ares stumbled backward. "Who's there?!"
DING!
System initialization…
Searching for host compatibility…
Synchronizing with: ARES LOCKE.
Source of power: READER WILL.
"…Reader what?" Ares whispered.
A blinding white panel materialized in front of him—floating in the rainless air, glowing like a divine decree.
[READER-FUELED EVOLUTION SYSTEM: ONLINE]
"What kind of hallucination is this?" Ares muttered, reaching out.
His hand passed through the panel like it was holographic.
Text continued to appear.
You have been chosen as the first ever 'Reader-Linked Player'.
Your strength, skills, and breakthroughs will grow based on the expectations, emotions, and willpower of your future supporters.
Ares stared blankly.
"…Supporters? I don't even have friends."
DING!
Initial reader sentiment detected.
Emotion: PITY.
Power acquired: "Unyielding Spark (Lv. 1)"
Ares shuddered.
A warm surge flooded his chest—like invisible chains pulling tight, then snapping free.
"What is—aaagh!"
The world snapped back. Rain crashed down again. His knees trembled as the sensation faded.
Another panel flickered open.
[Skill Acquired: Unyielding Spark (Lv. 1)]
Effect: When the host refuses to give up, all physical and mental stats temporarily increase.
Ares blinked, stunned.
"…Refuses to give up? That's all I ever do."
His breath steamed in the cold air. Something inside him—something small, weak, almost dead—lit up again.
Alive.
But the system wasn't done.
DING!
Reader curiosity rising…
Host has attracted attention.
Granting first mandatory quest.
[Quest: Prove You Are Worth Watching]
Objective: Perform one action that makes at least one future reader believe in your potential.
Reward: A randomized S-tier football skill.
Penalty: System lock for 30 days.
Ares froze.
"S-tier… football skill?"
Lightning flashed overhead, but now the fear melting in his chest was replaced… with fire.
This was insane. Impossible. Unreal.
But the hunger inside him—the one that refused to die—responded instinctively.
If there was even a single chance…
Even a sliver of hope…
He wouldn't let it slip.
He swallowed hard.
"What do I need to do?" he whispered.
The system responded instantly.
Perform one extraordinary play.
Even if no one is watching yet…
Your future readers will.
Ares stepped back from the glowing text.
His heart pounded.
The rain blurred his vision.
His body screamed in exhaustion.
But something had changed.
He no longer felt alone on the field.
Invisible eyes—readers' eyes—were watching from some unknown place, unknown time.
Expectant.
Silent.
Judging.
Ares closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
"…All right."
He placed one ball at the center of the field.
"Let's give them something to believe in."
His muscles tightened.
His pulse quickened.
The skill inside him flickered—warming, waiting.
He sprinted.
Five steps.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One—
Ares twisted his foot at the exact moment he struck the ball—
BOOM!
This time, the ball didn't wobble.
Didn't curve randomly.
Didn't die in the air.
It sliced through the rain, a clean, sharp, impossible trajectory—
like a bullet bending at will.
It struck the top-left corner of the net and ripped against the frame with violent force.
A perfect shot.
A shot Ares had never once achieved in his life.
A shot no tired, soaked, talentless boy should've been able to perform.
He dropped to his knees.
"…That wasn't me."
The system glowed with approval.
DING!
Reader astonishment detected.
Quest Completed.
Reward granted.
Reward Unlocked: S-Tier Skill – "Limitless Vision: Future Trajectory"
Description: Allows the host to read the future path of the ball, opponents, and movement patterns within a microsecond window.
Cooldown: 60 seconds.
**Effect scales with reader belief.
Ares's breath caught.
This wasn't some stat increase.
This wasn't some small buff.
This was the skill that separated amateurs… from legends.
His fingertips trembled.
"So I… I can really become…"
A flash of movement pulled him from his thoughts.
A man stood at the entrance of the stadium, holding an umbrella. Tall, sharply dressed, cold expression—but eyes focused entirely on Ares.
A scout.
A professional scout.
Ares's heart dropped.
"H–how long have you—"
"I saw everything," the scout said calmly. "That last shot… was no coincidence, was it?"
Ares's throat dried.
He couldn't tell the truth.
He couldn't explain a system.
He couldn't risk losing this chance.
The scout stepped closer.
"My name is Rowan Vale. I recruit young talents for the Rising Star Trials next month."
The Rising Star Trials—
the biggest youth football selection event in the region.
The place where unknowns turned into professionals.
Rowan stopped in front of him.
"Kid… I don't know what you did just now, but I'll ask only once."
His eyes narrowed.
"Do you want a real chance—or not?"
Ares felt lightning crack in his pulse.
A real chance.
His entire life, he never had one.
He clenched his fists.
"I do."
Rowan smiled faintly.
"Good. Then prove to me that shot wasn't luck. Trials begin in thirty days."
The system chimed again.
DING!
New Quest Available:
[Qualify for the Rising Star Trials]
But Ares didn't look at the panel.
He stared at the empty field, the rain, the future forming in front of him.
For the first time in his life, he felt something powerful rising inside him—
Hope.
And something even deeper—
A hunger to become someone the world couldn't ignore.
He stood up slowly.
"…I'll prove it."
Rowan raised an eyebrow. "Prove what?"
Ares's voice was steady, unshakable.
"That I'm worth believing in."
Rain continued to fall.
Thunder cracked.
The night swallowed the stadium again.
But Ares Locke walked out of it—not as the forgotten boy in worn-out boots…
…but as the first player in history with a system powered by readers.
And the world was about to tremble.