The striker silhouette burst toward him the moment Winston touched the ball again. Winston let out a slow breath and darted left. The striker launched into a scissor slide, but Winston had already shifted away. The tackle only nicked the ball, sending it rolling back toward Winston's side of the pitch.
Before the silhouette could scramble to its feet, Winston chased the loose ball and brought it under control. He planted his foot on top of it. As the striker rushed back toward him, Winston glanced beyond it. The moment the striker left its position, the space behind it opened up.
A grin spread across his face. So that's it.
He waited until the silhouette committed itself. With a quick touch, he rolled the ball from one foot to the other before spinning into a Marseille turn. The ball lifted slightly off the ground but stayed close enough for him to regain control.
He exploded into the vacant space. Slowing his pace, Winston carefully watched the two central midfielders. Neither moved—He took another cautious step forward. The left midfielder suddenly sprang into action.
"There you are."
Winston pivoted, turning his body between the defender and the ball to shield it. The midfielder's challenge crashed into him, forcing him a few steps forward, but he kept the ball under control by dragging it with the sole of his boot.
He looked up—Another midfielder was already closing the gap. Without hesitation, Winston poked the ball through the oncoming silhouette's legs. He accelerated after it, brushing shoulders with the midfielder and sending the two silhouettes into each other's path.
Neither could recover in time. Winston burst through the middle. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the wide midfielders standing perfectly still, frozen in their assigned zones. Ahead of him, two center-backs waited.
The instant he entered their area, the left center-back charged. Winston feinted inside before nudging the ball past the defender's outstretched leg. He slipped by cleanly and continued toward the left side of the penalty area.
The second center-back stepped across to close him down. Winston extended his left arm to shield the defender, created just enough separation, and swung his right foot through the ball.
Clang!
Thwack!
The moment the ball crossed the line, a rush of exhilaration coursed through Winston. His heart pounded, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. While catching his breath, he looked toward a translucent blue scoreboard that shimmered against the surrounding walls. Unlike a normal scoreboard, it displayed no score, no timer, and no team names.
Across its glowing surface, only one name was written: THE CORE
[The Core Plane challenge: 2 Goals]
[Winston vs The Core]
[1/2 Goals]
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Winston jogged back to the center of the pitch. The ball materialized once more. The striker silhouette tapped it backward to the center-back. The center-back stopped the ball beneath his boot. For a brief moment, Winston frowned.
He's copying me.
The silhouette stood still, calmly waiting with the ball at its feet. Winston jogged toward him, but the defender made no attempt to pass. Instead, it patiently waited until Winston committed—just as Winston had done to the striker moments earlier.
The instant Winston stepped into pressing range, the center-back slipped a pass to the left-back. The defender then calmly retreated to its original position.
"So that's how they bait the press..."
Winston immediately chased the ball. The left-back played a quick pass across the back line. The defenders exchanged crisp one-touch passes in a rapid tiki-taka sequence, forcing Winston to sprint from one side of the pitch to the other. Breathing heavily, he committed to a slide tackle against the center-back.
Crunch!
His tackle swept the defender's legs out—but the ball had already been released. The simulation ignored late challenges. The left-back had already recycled possession to the goalkeeper, who calmly switched play to the right-back.
The right-back remained motionless, waiting for Winston to close him down. Panting, Winston forced himself back to his feet and sprinted across the pitch once more. This time, the defender didn't pass. Instead, it turned sideways and shielded the ball.
"So now it's testing strength..."
Winston drove his shoulder into the silhouette. Their knees pressed together as they battled for position. Winston stretched out his foot, trying to poke the ball away with the tip of his boot.
The defender anticipated it. With one quick pivot, it rolled away from the challenge. Winston stumbled forward but caught himself with his hands before falling completely.
The ball had already been moved. The right-back passed into the right midfielder. The midfielder didn't hesitate.
One touch—center midfielder. One touch—the second central midfielder. One touch—the striker. The speed of the passing sequence stunned Winston. Before he could even recover and begin pressing again—
Thud!
The striker buried the ball into the back of Winston's net. Winston stood there, breathing hard as the silhouettes silently returned to their starting positions. This wasn't just a training ground. It was teaching him how an organized team dismantled a lone presser.
Thwack!
"Damn..." Winston wiped the sweat from his face as he watched the silhouettes return to their original positions.
"So they stay stationary after releasing the ball." He folded his arms, replaying the sequence in his mind. "They can't all move at once... and each one only gets a single action before returning to its position."
He narrowed his eyes. "Most of them only take one or two touches." His gaze drifted to the striker silhouette. "So that's why the striker immediately laid the ball off to the center-back."
A grin slowly spread across his face. "I think I understand now."
With his hands behind his head, Winston casually strolled toward the newly materialized ball before striking a firm pass toward one of the central midfielder silhouettes. The ball struck the silhouette's chest and dropped neatly at its feet.
Nothing happened, just as Winston expected. "When I pass the ball to them... they don't activate."
Only when Winston stepped into the midfielder's radius did the silhouette spring to life. With a single touch, it passed the ball to the other central midfielder before immediately freezing once again.
Winston was already moving. He deliberately played a gentle pass, placing the ball right on the edge of the second midfielder's activation zone.
The moment he entered the radius, the second midfielder reacted exactly as predicted. One touch—another pass. Winston accelerated before the silhouette could reset.
He reached the ball and nudged it forward into the space between the two center-backs. Instead of bursting forward, he slowed to a jog as he approached their activation range.
The first center-back lunged. Winston instantly performed a double elastico, shifting the ball from side to side before slipping between the defenders.
Neither silhouette could recover. With a final touch, he knocked the ball toward the left side of the penalty area. It rolled toward the near post. The last defender rushed across to block him. Winston shaped his body as if to shoot. The silhouette committed, sliding across the turf. At the last second, Winston pulled the ball away, calmly stepped around the challenge, and buried his shot into the open net.
A smile spread across his face. "So... the simulation really does have rules." It wasn't random—it was waiting for him to understand them.
Thwack!
Exhausted from the entire ordeal, Winston bent over with his hands on his knees, panting heavily. Repeatedly sprinting from the center of the pitch to the edge of the penalty area had drained every ounce of energy from his body.
After catching his breath, he slowly straightened up and rested his hands on his hips. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he lifted his gaze toward the glowing Core scoreboard. The display flickered for a brief moment before updating.
Final Score.
[Congratulation]
[The Core Plane challenge: Completed]
[Winston vs The Core]
[2/2 Goals]
[Nether Essence: 30%]
[Now exiting The Core Plane]
Is it morning already?
Relieved that the challenge was finally over, Winston watched his hand dissolve into countless glowing pixels before disappearing completely. He was too exhausted to scream. All he could manage were ragged breaths. Disoriented, he pressed a hand against his throbbing head as the white training ground around him gradually faded away.
...
Winston slowly pushed himself upright. The warm rays of the morning sun shone directly into his eyes, forcing him to squint. He instinctively licked his lips, only to realize how dry his mouth had become.
"My throat..."
Crouching beside his gym bag, he rummaged through it and pulled out his water bottle—he gave it a shake. "Damn... empty."
His entire body felt unbearably heavy, as though every muscle had been drained of strength.
Was I really just dreaming? It felt too real.
Letting out a weary sigh, Winston slung his gym bag over his shoulder and walked toward the outdoor tap beside the training ground. He filled the bottle, twisted the cap shut, and took a long, satisfying drink. Just then—
Beep!
The notification sound from his phone startled him. Winston nearly spat out the mouthful of water.
Ding!
[The Core Plane challenge: Completed]
[User physical stats]
[Nether Essence: 30%]
[Pace]
Acceleration: 70
Sprint Speed: 70
[Physical]
Physical: 70
Jumping: 70
Stamina: 70
Strength: 70
Aggression: 70
"Wait... what?" Winston's eyes widened as he stared at his stats. "My physical attributes have reached seventy?"
He blinked several times, convinced he had misread the numbers.
So it wasn't a dream... It was real.
His heart pounded as he quickly scrolled through the rest of his stats, searching for any other changes. The football field, the silhouettes, the challenge—it had all felt so vivid that he had dismissed it as a strange hallucination brought on by exhaustion. But the numbers before him proved otherwise. A slow grin spread across his face.
"That place... it actually trained me."
Ding!
[User reward: 15 points]
Stunned, Winston's legs nearly gave out, forcing him to stumble back to where he had been standing moments earlier. He opened the Core System again, his eyes scanning every statistic to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Every physical attribute had indeed reached seventy.
His gaze then drifted to the unopened lunch bar he had tossed aside the previous day in his haste. Only now did he realize how hungry he was. He picked it up, tore open the wrapper, and took a large bite while continuing to review his stats.
[Core stats]
Name: Daley Winston
Age: 19
Weak Foot: 2
Foot: Right
Profession: Footballer
Team: Westminster F.C. (Under twenty-one team)
Player Rating: 81
Position: Center forward.
Potential: 87
Acceleration
Sprint Speed
Shooting
Passing
Dribbling
Physical [Nether Essence: 30%]
Reward Points: 015
Skills moves: None.
Skills shop.
Winston, eager to acquire new abilities, immediately opened the Skill Shop. The simulation had taught him one important lesson—he needed more skills if he wanted to get past defenders consistently. The move he had used to beat the two silhouette defenders had been nothing more than pure luck. He had merely copied it from a training session, and without proper technique, he doubted he could pull it off reliably in a real match.
[User skills shop]
Finesse Shot: 50 points
Chip Shot: 25 points
Outside Foot Shot: 60 points
Long Shot Taker: 50 points
Long Passer: 10 points
Dead Ball: 15 points
Gamecharger: 50 points
Incisive Pass: 25 points
Tiki Taka: 10 points
Technical: 45 points
First Touch: 45 points
Quick Step: 50 points
Low Driven shot: 50 points
"Most of these skills cost more Skill Points than I have. The only one I can afford right now is Dead Ball."
He recalled the simulation against the dark silhouettes. One weakness had become painfully obvious—his long-range shooting. The Dead Ball skill would make his strikes far more unpredictable and dangerous.
"Mmm... I guess the system was showing me what I'm lacking. My shooting styles are still too limited."
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
The sudden vibration from his pocket startled him. Winston pulled out his phone and realized the alarm he had snoozed several times was ringing for the fifth time.
He glanced at the screen.
8:30 a.m.
Training started at nine.
"Oh, crap."
He hurriedly shoved his equipment into his gym bag and sprinted toward the exit. Along the way, he ran into the groundskeeper, who looked surprised to see him still there.
"I'm sorry," Winston said hurriedly. "I should've told you I was using the grounds. I'll come back later and clean everything up."
The groundskeeper simply smiled and waved him off. "Don't worry about it. You're fine."