[Reforging Chamber: Stage One Activated]
[Targeting Sub-60 Attributes: Interception (59), Anticipation (58)]
[Status: Passive Rebirth initialized]
Renzo stared at the scrolling holographic text in the white void, his jaw dropping. "So... I just have to exist, and my 'trash' stats will fix themselves?"
[Correct. Your autonomous breathing now accumulates 'Defensive Experience.' Progress: 2%...]
It was the ultimate "lazy man" hack. The system's Reforging Mode was essentially an automated floor-raiser. Stage One would pull every stat up to 60. Stage Two to 65. Stage Three to 70. And finally, Stage Four would ensure every single attribute hit 75—the benchmark for a top-flight professional.
"This is broken," Renzo whispered. "If I just sit on my couch for a year, I'll become a world-class all-rounder."
He looked into the distance and saw a figure sprinting through the void, practicing ball-striking with clinical precision. It was a perfect 1:1 mapping of himself. The only problem?
The mapping was naked.
"System! Give the projection some clothes! This is a workplace violation!"
[Negative. Mapping is a real-time capture of the Host's current state. Please put on a jersey before initiating next time.]
Renzo quickly exited the mode, the white void collapsing back into his cramped bathroom. He dried off, feeling a strange, tingly sensation in his lungs—the "Defensive Nourishment" already at work.
Back in his bedroom, he checked his Milestone Rewards.
[New Milestone: 90-Minute Debut in a Top-5 League]
[Reward: 100 Honor Value -> 1 Attribute Point]
Combined with the 2 points from the Verona match mission, Renzo had 3 points burning a hole in his pocket. He didn't even look at his physicals or his defense. He poured all 3 points into Dribbling.
[Dribbling: 77 -> 80 (Grade: Outstanding!)]
The number on the screen shifted from a standard green to a glowing, vibrant yellow. According to the system, 80 was the threshold where a player moved from "capable" to "special."
Renzo picked up the ball sitting by his bed. In the tiny, four-meter-wide dorm room, he began to move. In the past, he had to consciously think about the distance between his toe and the leather. Now? The ball felt like an extension of his nervous system.
He performed a lightning-fast La Croqueta between the legs of his desk chair, the ball never straying more than two inches from his feet. The friction, the weight, the "stickiness"—it was all different.
"Before, I was a passer who happened to have the ball," Renzo grinned, spinning the ball on his finger. "Now... I'm a Technico."
He looked at the calendar. Four days until Everton.
"Let's see how those Merseyside bruisers like someone they can't catch."
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