The rain came down like Delhi had made God angry.
Windshield wipers screeched uselessly as Neil Goyal stared blankly at the flooded road ahead, barely flinching when lightning lit up the dark clouds like broken camera flashes.
Water surged around his car tires. Horns blared in the distance. His hands clutched the steering wheel with the kind of tension only regret could carve into a man.
He was thirty. Not old. But definitely done.
His name used to buzz on U-17 squad lists and football blogs, the striker from Delhi who made it to the national team at seventeen. Barcelona's scouting eyes once hovered near him. A future golden boy, they whispered.
And now?
An ex-footballer, washed before he ever got clean. One ACL tear during a trial with Mumbai City FC in 2025, and the headlines stopped. The offers dried up. Dreams turned into flashbacks.
His phone buzzed on the passenger seat. Notifications rolled in like knives.
[Foden leads England to Nations League title.]
[Ferran Torres nets double for Barcelona.][Thapa named AFC Midfielder of the Year.]
Neil didn't even scoff. He'd wasted enough energy being bitter. But deep down? Yeah. It burned.
Those guys—Foden, Torres, Thapa—they made it. While he coached spoiled kids at dusty academies and gave "motivational" talks about perseverance he didn't even believe in anymore.
What a joke.
He reached a flyover on the highway. The rain was blinding now. A truck roared in from the right, honking like the apocalypse.
Neil looked up—saw it too late.
Metal slammed. Tires skidded. Glass shattered. His head cracked against the window.
And then—silence.
Except... not.
[Covet System Activated.]Welcome, Neil Goyal. You've been granted a Second Chance.]Regression to October 1st, 2017: In Progress.]Initializing Replication Interface.]
Neil's eyes flew open.
He gasped, choking on air like a man yanked back from the dead. The ceiling fan above him spun lazily, like nothing happened. But everything had.
He looked around.
His bedroom. Posters of Barcelona's golden era. A cracked Messi bobblehead. His dusty old cleats resting by the window. All of it untouched by time.
His heart thundered. He scrambled for his phone—an ancient model now. Swiped it open.
Date: October 1st, 2017.
"No way…"
He stumbled to the mirror. Stared.
Seventeen-year-old Neil Goyal stared back. Skinny, sharper jaw, no scar on his right eyebrow. His eyes still had fire.
The U-17 World Cup was just days away.
He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't hallucinating. He was back.
And then the system pinged again.
[Covet System Online.]Skill Replication Available.]Note: All individuals possess distinct skillsets. Skills and replication conditions are visible only to you.]Limit: 1 skill per day.]
The moment he saw that, something clicked in his brain. Like a heads-up display, he could feel a light shimmer over reality—like each person carried a tag, a profile.
He glanced at his mom walking by the hallway. No football skills, obviously.
But…
[Renu Goyal]– Domestic Efficiency (C): Cook three different meals in 30 minutes.– Bargaining Prowess (C): Win a heated negotiation in a market.]
Neil's eyes widened.
"Yo, this is cracked…"
If he could see everyone's skills... then in the right place, at the right time...
He threw on a jacket, laced up his old cleats, and bolted out.
The old streets of Chandni Chowk were alive with their usual chaos.
Vendors yelling over each other. Tourists looking lost. Locals darting through traffic with Olympic precision. Neil moved through the crowd with one eye on his surroundings, but the other—his system eye—scanning skill tags like a machine.
A paan seller had "Street Intuition (C)." A cyclist had "Traffic Sense (C)." A sketchy-looking guy had "Pickpocket Reflexes (B)," but Neil wasn't about to chase that guy down.
Then he saw his target: a stubborn old jersey vendor haggling with a foreign tourist.
Neil smirked.
He activated his system overlay.
[Vendor: Ram Babu]– Streetwise Bargaining (C):Beat him in a three-round negotiation without insulting him.]
Challenge accepted.
He stepped in, casually pretending to help translate. Twisted the conversation. Downplayed the quality. Complimented Ram Babu's "authentic aesthetic." Gave a spiel about local friendship. Final price dropped from ₹1,500 to ₹300 and a free Messi keychain.
Ram Babu looked halfway between impressed and scammed.
Neil's mind buzzed.
[Skill Replicated: Streetwise Bargaining (C)][Time till integration: 6 Hours.]
It was like getting a new pair of lenses. He could read people better. Spot hesitation. Hear cracks in tone. All from one C-grade skill.
And it was permanent.
"If a C-grade life skill feels this good…" Neil muttered, already imagining what higher-tier football skills might do.
Later that evening, he wandered by the local pitch near his colony. Floodlights buzzed to life. A few U-17 players were casually training, among them—
Dheeraj Singh.
India's U-17 national team goalkeeper. Calm, sharp reflexes, already earning buzz ahead of the World Cup.
Neil's system kicked in instantly.
[Dheeraj Singh]– Reflexive Goalkeeping (B): Block a shot from him during open play.]– Pressure Composure (C): Force him into three backpasses under pressure.]– Fast Launch Throw (C): Intercept one of his throws in a 1v1 training drill.]
Three football skills. Right there. And this was just one guy.
Neil's heart beat faster. This wasn't just a cheat code. This was a footballer's fantasy. Every skill, every rival, laid bare. All he had to do was seize them.
And unlike the talent scouts or the media hype machines, the system didn't care about his past.
It only cared about now.
He clenched his fists.
"No more regrets. No more sidelines. I'm not going to be a footnote in someone else's highlight reel again."
He stepped toward the pitch.
Game on.