My system allows me to copy talents

The stadium buzzed with cheers and anticipation as supporters, draped in the colors of their favorite teams, awaited the beginning of the match.

Flags and banners billowed high above the sea of excited fans, swaying like the sails of a mighty fleet. The air was thick with the mingling aromas of various foods and drinks, sizzling meats, fresh pastries, and the faint sweetness of overpriced soda wafting through every corner of the venue.

Then, the players entered the field.

There was still some time left before kickoff. Nonetheless, their appearance brought immense delight to the spectators. The stadium roared to life.

Phones were raised, and the flashes of cameras echoed as thousands of voices merged into a single, thunderous wave of sound.

Yang paused at the end of the tunnel.

Before him, the stadium stretched like an endless ocean, grand and breathtaking.

The roaring stadium seemed far grander than anything he had witnessed before. The entire venue pulsated with life like a living, breathing entity of light and noise and raw emotion.

Though it wasn’t his first time under the surveillance of such a grand crowd, he still couldn’t help but stop. His feet felt rooted to the ground, his gaze fixed on the sea of faces stretching before him.

’This is it. This is the stage I’ve dreamed of.’

"What’s wrong, kid?"

Yang turned to find a familiar face. The man had blond hair, his pale skin almost translucent as if it had never seen the sun. His face was somewhat long, his jaw soft, and a gentle double chin framed his warm smile.

"Nervous now?" The man flashed a set of white teeth, his expression kind and reassuring.

"Magnus..." Yang muttered, surprised by the sudden appearance.

"Oh yeah! I forgot." Magnus rolled his pupils playfully before placing a firm hand on Yang’s shoulder. His grip was warm and somewhat reassuring.

"This is your first appearance in the Champions League, right?"

Yang nodded silently.

"Hahaha..." Magnus let out a wild, booming laugh that echoed through the tunnel. "This happens to all of us." He shook his head, amusement flickering in his pale eyes. "When you step onto one of the grandest stages in world football, the pressure will weigh on you. That’s natural."

His expression softened, growing nostalgic.

"I remember. I was frozen just like you when I walked out of that tunnel for the first time." He paused, his gaze drifting toward the pitch as if seeing a ghost of his younger self. "This atmosphere. This feeling. Make sure you etch it in your mind."

Then his brows furrowed.

His expression darkened, his tone turning grim.

"But this stage can be unforgiving." His voice dropped, carrying a weight that demanded attention. "It doesn’t matter if it’s your first time. Your mistakes will cost you."

He squeezed Yang’s shoulder, his grip firmer than before.

"The world of football is just as cruel as it is beautiful." His pale eyes locked onto Yang’s. "So, don’t let this pressure weigh you down."

Yang could feel the grip on his shoulder tightening. It wasn’t painful, but it carried a sense of burden, of responsibility passed from one generation to the next.

But he didn’t dislike it.

Instead, he appreciated those words.

They cut through the noise in his head. They shook the nervousness loose from his bones.

"Understood." Yang nodded, his voice steady with conviction. The previous hesitation had vanished, replaced by something sharper.

"Good." Magnus removed his hand, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

"Remember..." He turned toward the pitch, the stadium roaring in the distance.

"We are here to win."

With that, Magnus left for the pitch without uttering another word. It appeared as if he had said everything he had meant to speak.

Yang trailed his departing figure, the number one emblazoned on his broad back radiating quiet confidence. This person had been one of the warmest souls he had encountered since landing in Europe—gentle, almost like a father figure. He had helped him acclimate to this new environment, and Yang was deeply grateful.

Though he would have managed just fine without his help, he still couldn’t help but appreciate him.

For a brief moment, he continued to stare at Magnus’s departing figure. Then his gaze drifted to the stands as he recalled the words he had heard earlier.

"The world of football can be just as cruel as it is beautiful."

He muttered the words under his breath.

They sounded simple, but he understood the meaning behind them. Just as Magnus had said, if he fumbled here, the supporters would haul him with curses. One mistake could define him. One lapse could undo everything he had worked for.

He squeezed his fingers into a tight fist, a cold glint flashing across his pupils.

"I won’t succumb."

His voice was low, but his gaze burned with unwavering determination.

Then he darted onto the field, joining the rest of his teammates for the warm-up. As he stretched, his eyes wandered to the other side of the pitch.

The opposing team still hadn’t graced the pitch with their presence.

He had been looking forward to meeting him again.

’Takahashi Hiro.’

Then, in a brief moment, the atmosphere of the stadium shifted. The cheers grew louder, the crowd roaring with renewed fervor.

The bustling energy caught his attention, and he couldn’t help but glance toward the tunnel.

He knew what this noise meant.

’You’re here, at last.’

His gaze became expectant, his heart thumping against his ribcage.

Under his hopeful watch, players began to step out of the tunnel. Some, he had only ever seen on television like gods of the sport he had admired from afar. Their presence was almost overwhelming.

Superstars he had once worshiped.

Now, he was sharing the same pitch with those figures who had once appeared larger than life itself.

This feeling made his heart race, and he couldn’t help but stare at their faces like a child admiring his idols.

He wanted to walk to them and ask for autographs if possible. However, he knew he couldn’t do that.

For now, he wasn’t just another supporter but a professional footballer just like the rest of them.

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