Chapter 2: The Golden Goose
"Sometimes, all we lack is the courage to saddle up and charge into battle."
That had been the previous Su Dong.
But now? Fate had dealt him the ultimate jackpot—regression. And as if that wasn't enough, it came bundled with a cheat system, fueling him with a boldness he'd never known.
If even this couldn't make him go all-out, he'd despise himself.
He grinded until his lungs burned.
Only when his legs refused to obey did Su Dong allow himself to collapse onto the grass, gasping.
A quick check of the system: 1,264 King Points—earned in just over three hours of relentless drills.
Juggling. Passing. Dribbling. Every basic training move had chipped in +1 point per successful attempt.
Not bad. Two more days like this, and I'll level up.
The thought reignited his energy.
Sixteen-year-olds are bottomless wells of stamina.
"Looks lonely. Need a partner?"
A voice called out.
Su Dong spun to see a boy his age strolling onto the pitch — lean, confident, skin kissed by the sun.
"I'm Ronny. I train here often." The boy flashed a grin, teeth gleaming. He seems friendly.
"Su Dong. First time. I'm… not that good."
With a smirk, Su Dong fired the ball at Rony—a fast, heavy pass, to see how he would react.
Rony didn't flinch. "Weak pass," he said, then—
Whoosh.
His right foot flicked out, killing the ball dead mid-air. No bounce. No stumble.
…Holy shit.
Su Dong's pulse spiked. In his month at Portugal Sporting Club's academy, he'd faced decent players.
None moved like this.
"Here I come."
Rony dribbled forward, each step a feint. Shoulders dipped. Hips swayed. Tiny, taunting shifts that screamed "Guess which way I'll go!"
Su Dong guessed wrong.
A touch to the left. A burst to the right. Gone.
Goal.
"[+100 King Points!]"
The system's notification blazed in Su Dong's vision.
Wait—100?!
His usual grind gave 1 point per action. This was a jackpot.
All this just for losing.
A wild thought struck him: Is my luck showing up..?
Ronny turned, expecting defeat in Su Dong's eyes.
Instead, he saw hunger.
"Again," Su Dong demanded.
"You sure?"
"I slipped just now. Let's go again."
Twenty rounds later ---
Ronny's nutmegs: 7
Su Dong's dignity: -∞
King Points earned: 2,000 and counting.
By noon, they'd devolved into a wrestling match. Su Dong, desperate to win atleast once, full-body tackled Rony to stop him.
Rony, initially amused, now burned with rivalry.
Why won't he yield?!
"You're impossible," Rony panted as the sun climbed.
Su Dong grinned. "And you're wrong if you think I'll quit."
Their stomachs growled in unison.
"Lunch. Then round two," Su Dong declared. "Unless you're scared?"
Rony's pride flared. "You wish."
As Rony left, Su Dong checked his stats:
King Points: 3,864 / 10,000
One afternoon with this guy, and I'll level up.
He laughed aloud.
Today, he had found his golden goose.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Chapter 3: The Upgrade
"King Points: 25,004."
The number flashed before Su Dong's eyes, sending a jolt of electricity down his spine.
Twenty-five thousand points.
Ronny—this god-tier sparring partner—was truly a gift from the heavens.
But it also gnawed at him :
Just how strong is Rony?
Is he a pro? Which club does he play for?
Lisbon, Portugal's capital, was a football jungle. Everyone knew Benfica and Sporting CP, the giants of the Primeira Liga. Belenenses trailed behind. Then came the lower divisions—a graveyard of forgotten clubs, like his own Portugal Sporting Club in the third tier.
If a random kid, I've never heard of is thisgood…
What about the real monsters?
Names flashed in his mind: Ronaldinho's sorcery. Ronaldo's fury.
Awe swelled in his chest—followed by steel resolve.
The Upgrade
With a king's ransom of points, Su Dong made his move.
[Current Level: Ball 0 (Amateur)]
[Next Level: Ball I (Youth) | Cost: 10,000 King Points.]
[Upgrade? Yes/No]
"Yes"
The system whirred. A black-and-white football icon spun in his mind like a slot machine—
CLICK.
[Congratulations! Level Up | Current Level: Ball I (Youth)]
[Next Level: Ball II(Semi - Pro) | Cost: 50,000 King Points.]
[New System Unlocked: Potential Matrix.]
Potential Matrix?
The stats screen had transformed.
At Ball I, his attributes were crude: Attack. Defense. Physicality.
Now, they split like cells:
Attack → Technique (15/29) | Finishing (18/37)
Defense → Positioning (13/25) | Tackling (15/31)
Physicality → Speed (18/33) | Strength (11/25)
Two numbers per stat:
Current Ability (earned through training)
Potential Ceiling (Can be increased with King Points)
100 King Points = +1 Potential
The Grim Truth
Su Dong scowled. Why did my ratings drop after upgrading?
The system's answer stung:
[All values are scaled against peers in your new tier.]
Translation: Among the world's amateurs, you're mediocre.
Even his speed—a prideful 18/33—was labeled "subpar."
Bullshit! He'd outpaced half his academy.
Then it hit him:
This isn't just mindless sprinting. It's football speed—first step, agility, dribbling at pace.
...Fair enough.
The Grind Begins
15,184 King Points left → 150 Potential Points allocated:
Technique +40 → 69 Potential
Finishing +40 → 77 Potential
Speed +40 → 73 Potential
Strength +30 → 55 Potential
Priorities:
•Sharpening the blade (attack stats for a striker)
•Ignore defense (for now)
The math was clear:
Wasting points on early upgrades = diminishing returns.
Maximize potential first → then train like hell to reach it.
The Rematch
Su Dong devoured a street-side Bifana, then hurled himself back into training.
"Still here?"
Ronny's voice cut through his exhaustion. The Portuguese teen eyed Su Dong's soaked jersey and scattered water bottles—evidence of an obsessive grind.
Madman.
"You're late," Su Dong panted. "Thought I scared you off."
Rony snorted. "You wish."
But his smirk faded as he noticed:
Half-eaten bread rolls (dinner?)
No exit strategy
This guy's all in.
The Dance
They clashed again—a hurricane of feints and fails.
With each defeat :
[+200 King Points!]
Double the yield! (Perks of Ball II.)
By midnight, they collapsed side by side on the turf, lungs screaming.
"Haven't sweat like this in a long time," Ronny admitted, grinning.
Su Dong stayed silent, too busy counting his digital fortune.
The Offer
"Your technique's a mess," Rony said suddenly. "You train in back alleys or what?"
Su Dong shrugged. "Close. Third-rate academy."
A beat. Then—
"Want me to fix it?"
Rony expected prideful refusal.
Instead:
"Deal. Start tomorrow. 5 AM."
"…AM?!"
Su Dong's grin was wolfish. "Ever seen Lisbon at 5 AM?"
"I have now," Rony muttered.
And so, the pact was sealed.