My system allows me to copy talents

The crowd stared as he wove a path utilizing those around him. He didn’t need to dribble past three or four defenders. He just had to find a path that allowed him to break past them.

And that’s what he did.

One touch. Then another.

He connected one pass after another.

The opposition, now a man down, struggled to fill the absence of their eleventh member.

Due to the absence of their eleventh member, the team had given up on the offense and instead shifted their attention to defense.

Except for Eric, the titan, all the other opposing players were concentrated in their half.

Yet, despite their effort to bolster their defense, the team was still struggling.

The passes continued with Guiliano at the center—a steady rhythm, a pulse that kept the team alive.

”Exploit the right…” Diego mumbled under his breath.

He had spotted a vacant space, a pocket of opportunity. But he didn’t shout it out loud. He hoped his players would see the gap he was seeing without being told. Besides, even if he said something, it wouldn’t be heard over the roar of the crowd.

So he watched in silence, his pupils expanding as Guiliano accelerated.

He’s moving just as I wanted.

The crowd rose in anticipation, sensing something brewing.

One of the opponents stepped forward to intercept, while another slid across to cover the exposed space. Despite the chaos unfolding on the pitch, the opposing team remained organized—disciplined, structured.

But their numerical disadvantage continued to be a thorn in their path.

Holding onto the ball, Julian darted forward. He could see his opponent rushing toward him, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t even bother to slow his momentum. Instead, he swept his gaze across the field, stealing a glance—then charged straight into the opposing defense.

Utilizing his massive frame, his opponent attempted to throw him off balance. But Julian didn’t bother contesting strength. Though he was confident in his physicality, he knew this wasn’t the time for a battle of brawn.

So he avoided his opponent with swift, agile movements.

First, he feinted—a sharp drop of the shoulder.

But the feint alone wasn’t enough to fool his opponent. So he unleashed his footwork, weaving a sequence of rapid, unpredictable steps that left his marker grasping at air.

The audience gasped.

The crowd was accustomed to watching Hiro dribble—a spectacle of its own. So whenever someone apart from Hiro showcased their skills, the crowd couldn’t help but feel a jolt of astonishment.

But Julian had been a dribbler long before Hiro’s arrival. Though he was more famously known for his persistence and endurance, he was still a capable dribbler—and at this moment, he was proving exactly why he was one of the highest-earning players in the squad.

His opponent struggled to keep up.

The agile movements with which Julian executed his skills were difficult to track, his nimble frame allowing him to shift direction with deceptive ease.

Even so, the defender refused to relent. He utilized his frame to his advantage, attempting to block Julian’s path to cut off his forward momentum.

I won’t let you through.

But Julian had other plans.

He didn’t need to break through. In fact, his sole purpose was to keep the defender’s attention fixed on him.

Though had he broken free, he would have had a clear angle to shoot—that wasn’t his goal. He had already fulfilled his role. There was no longer a need for him to dribble past this massive opponent.

Then he released the ball.

What?!

The defender who had been struggling to keep up with Julian gasped at the sudden shift. He had deliberately kept the space behind him vacant—a trap. He had wanted Julian to move into that space, to lure him into a pincer with his teammate rushing from the blind spot.

But contrary to his expectation, Julian had released the ball.

Where?

His eyes tracked the trajectory. The ball rolled to the right side.

But who’s there?

Confusion flickered across his face. He couldn’t spot a single soul in that space. The pass didn’t make sense.

But as he blinked—

A figure emerged before him.

Dark hair dangled as his shirt fluttered in the wind. He was swift, but his speed wasn’t impressive enough to marvel at. Yet something about him bugged the defender like a nagging sense of unease.

His teammate, who had been lurking behind, rushed to intercept. But Guiliano had started his sprint earlier. He was bound to reach the ball first.

The defender panicked for a moment—but only a moment.

Still, something felt off.

Like he was missing something.

Then a thought struck him like a jolt of lightning.

Julian.

His gaze darted in panic, searching for the player who had just been before him. But as he swept his eyes across the pitch, he found that Julian had vanished from his sight.

Gone.

He couldn’t even detect his presence.

His pupils rolled wildly as he searched.

Where is he?

Where did he go?

Upon searching, he found him—slipping past his peripheral vision. Just a moment earlier, Julian had been glued to him, an immovable presence at his side. But now, in the span of a heartbeat, he had widened the distance between them.

When…? How did he get there?

Perplexity flickered across his face. But he couldn’t afford to dwell on such thoughts. He composed himself and launched into a desperate chase.

The ground trembled beneath his weight as he pushed off with long, powerful strides. He tried to close the distance—but for every stride he took, Julian took three. His shorter, nimble frame carried him across the pitch with devastating efficiency.

Despite his desperate effort, Julian continued to pull away.

Before long, Guiliano delivered the ball inside the box—a crisp, incisive pass that cut through the opposing defense like a blade through silk.

Julian’s light pupils flickered with an eerie glow as he appeared in the box, his presence somehow larger than before.

He didn’t hesitate.

He couldn’t afford to.

Keeping his composure, he blasted the ball—a low, driven strike that skidded across the turf.

Morgan, the opposing keeper, dived desperately, stretching his long arms in a last-ditch attempt to stop the shot. His fingertips grazed the surface of the ball—

But it wasn’t enough.

The ball found its spot in the back of the net.