My system allows me to copy talents

However, despite their desperation, Hiro continued to be a stubborn thorn in their path.

He dominated the midfield as if he owned it—distributing, positioning, attacking. Every aspect of the game flowed through him like blood through a beating heart.

When his team needed a moment of respite to collect themselves, he appeared as their rescuer, easing the pressure with a single, calculated touch.

Since that last goal, he has transformed. His movements were more fluid than ever, his positioning sharper, his decisions quicker.

For a split second, it even looked as though the entire field was dancing to his tempo—a symphony conducted by a single, relentless maestro.

”This won’t do...”

The opposing coach mumbled, scribbling furiously in the worn notebook he carried. Though others relied on sleek tablets for such tasks, he still favored traditional methods.

It wasn’t that he disliked modern technology—in fact, he used it extensively to refine his strategies. But for tasks as simple as note-taking, the familiar weight of paper and pen grounded him.

”Martin,” he called out, turning toward the bench.

Just as his voice carried, a tall, pale-skinned individual rose from his seat. His face was shaped like a rectangular box—sharp angles and hard lines—and his blond hair dangled like stalks of rice as he hurried to answer.

”Show me the data,” the coach said.

Martin fiddled with his tablet before presenting the screen. Numbers and figures flashed across the display—a cascade of statistics that painted a grim picture.

The old man studied them, his brows knitting together.

”Current positioning... 67-33...” He muttered, his frown deepening. ”That’s concerning.”

He paused, his gaze narrowing.

”What about the individual stats?”

Martin swiped the screen, revealing a new set of numbers.

The coach’s expression twisted, the frown deepening into something darker.

Just as he expected—one man was behind the downfall of his team.

”Takahashi Hiro—”

The name left his lips like a curse, his teeth gritted.

Even now, as he stood there, Hiro was in control of the ball. He had received the ball near the center line, and he was charging from the center.

The crowd watched him with growing interest.

In an instant, he found himself surrounded. However, he weaved through their entrapment with ease.

Like a coiling serpent in the grass, he dribbled past his opponents as he avoided their tackle aimed at taking him down.

Then came the pink-haired youth.

He glared at him as he narrowed his gaze on Hiro.

Though still far, Hiro noticed him.

He could see his pupils flashing with determination, the desire to stop him. For some reason, his presence seemed larger than it had ever been before.

Hiro glanced at him before sweeping his gaze around him.

He knew where his teammates were positioned. Even the positioning of his opponents, he was aware of it.

He could tell that he couldn’t avoid him.

Hence, he braced himself for the duel that was about to commence.

Though he was confident in his skills, he still couldn’t afford to underestimate his opponent. He appeared young. His pink hair dangled as he moved.

His monolid eyes were staring at him with utmost focus.

Even though he appeared somewhat intimidating, Hiro didn’t flinch. His expression remained frozen in time, his gaze as cold as the northern wind.

The tension between the two. The crowd could feel it.

Thousands in the stands leaned forward, anticipating the clash that was about to take place.

Though Hiro was aware of the inevitable clash, he still liked to weigh his options before deciding.

Hence, he was searching for other possible options.

If he could just get past him without expending much effort, then he would take that option.

However, while he was weighing his options, he sensed something.

Not footsteps. Not sound.

Just — a shift in the air. The specific pressure of someone approaching who had decided, somewhere in the last thirty seconds, that this was their moment.

He glanced up.

Pink hair.

He sprinted, flaring his nostrils. His strides were neither too long nor too short—just enough to maximize his potential. He didn’t possess a massive physique; in fact, he fell on the leaner side of the spectrum.

Yet, despite the obvious lack of bulk, something about him screamed of danger.

Just like Hiro, speed was his weapon.

Hiro was aware of it. He had anticipated it. But something felt off at this moment.

Has he always been this fast?

Hiro wondered as he registered his opponent’s speed. He had witnessed it before—but right now, he appeared even faster. The ground underneath rumbled as his steps exploded, each stride sending tremors through the pitch.

Hiro could feel it. The charging figure of the pink-haired youth filled his vision as he braced for impact.

Though Yang appeared intimidating—almost like a different person—Hiro didn’t flinch. An unusual aura enveloped his opponent, raw and volatile. But despite that, the calm on Hiro’s face persisted.

He didn’t move. In fact, he paused—almost as if taunting his opponent to tackle him.

Maestro of the Field!

The skill activated.

Focus!

Another skill, stacked upon the first, to maintain his composure. He layered one ability after another like consuming expendable items in a game—each one sharpening his senses, fortifying his mind.

The stacking transformed him. His senses heightened to a level that could no longer be considered human—rivaling even the most predatory beasts in the wild.

In this instant, Hiro had become something else entirely.

He could sense it all, the faint smell of grass and sweat wafting through the stadium, the tremors of shockwaves beneath his feet, the faintest shift in the air around him. It was as if an invisible circle surrounded him, a domain where he reigned supreme.

Anything that enters this space...

His pupils narrowed.

I will detect it.

Every breath. Every heartbeat. Every intention.

Nothing escapes my perception.

Then Yang entered this space. Just as he entered, his exploding figure slowed down. Hiro’s pupils rolled at an imperceptible speed as he analyzed the prey that had entered his domain.

Be it how he moved or even the tiniest detail, like the mole on his hand. Hiro could see it all. In this space, he was supreme.