Growth That Defies Common Sense

There is a saying.

In the arts and athletics, talent matters most.

With talent, you excel. Without it, you fall behind. Effort alone can never overcome raw ability.

Sadly, it's true.

Jung Hyuk had never believed that. He had been convinced that if he wanted it more desperately than anyone else, if he simply worked harder, he could surpass the gifted. So he worked. When others rested, he struck the ball one more time. When others slept, he fought through the drowsiness and kept training.

Nothing changed. He remained a benchwarmer, and people still told him to quit soccer. Effort could not beat talent.

Having lived that bitter truth in his bones, Jung Hyuk understood the weight of talent better than anyone.

S-class talent.

The first time he obtained it in his previous life, he had been utterly stunned.

Why do the movements I only imagined in my head come out this easily?

Learn a technique once, and he understood it immediately — and could execute it. He even began adapting those techniques into entirely new ones. And S-class talent was not limited to soccer. Anything involving the body, any physical pursuit, he excelled at. Soccer, table tennis, bowling, basketball, boxing, weight training — every sport suddenly came with talent attached.

And now, after his regression, Jung Hyuk was unleashing that talent inside a gym.

"What the hell?!"

Kang Chul-gon was floored. The Jung Hyuk he had seen was not a powerful build. His lower body was solid enough from soccer, but his upper body was just lean. When Kang put him through actual lifts, even light weights had looked like a struggle.

Yet the speed at which he adapted to the load was absurd. He would struggle at first, then within moments settle into the weight as if it were nothing. And his form was excellent.

He looks like someone who's been training for years.

A sponge. He absorbed everything he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was taught — understood it with his mind and with his body. Of all the members Kang Chul-gon had ever coached, no one had learned this fast.

"…Is this even possible?"

Jung Hyuk smiled. He understood exactly how Kang felt, staring at him with those wide eyes.

Of course he's shocked. I was shocked by this insane talent myself.

With S-class talent, anything physical was within his reach. Kang's training had been brutal at first, but he adapted at a speed no ordinary person could comprehend. And on top of that, the special effects that flared up from time to time only deepened Kang's astonishment.

Weights he could not lift became liftable — if only for a single rep. His muscular endurance would spike without warning. Naturally, Jung Hyuk's body grew at a ferocious pace.

At Jeongun High School, soccer practice was underway as usual. Jeongun was not a school that dominated national tournaments, but it had a solid reputation for consistently producing professional players. And so, once again, the Jeongun High soccer team was pouring sweat onto the field.

"It's way too hot."

Jung Hyuk pulled off his top. He rarely stripped during practice, but the heat today was unbearable. The moment he did, the students around him erupted in admiration.

"Whoa! Hyuk, when did your body get this good?"

"Has Jung Hyuk always looked like that?"

"Damn, I thought Bruce Lee just walked in!"

The muscle was not massive, but the clean, sharply defined lines of Jung Hyuk's frame were a world apart from the body he had worn right after regressing. He gave an awkward little smile. It had only been a month since he started going to Kang Chul-gon's gym.

Even with drugs, you couldn't build a body this fast.

The growth rate was startling even to him. And the physical attributes tied to his physique had climbed hard as well.

Stamina that had sat in the sixties was now seventy-three, and his overall attributes had risen across the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠board. Physicality, which had been stuck in the dismal fifties, had climbed all the way to seventy. Less than two months since the regression, and this much growth.

At his current level, thriving in a foreign league would still be a stretch — but he could more than hold his own against Korean professionals. In other words, these were stats that could already play at the pro level. That was why Jung Hyuk could keep smiling even through the hardest sessions.

This is like playing a game with a cheat key turned on.

He thought of a novel he had enjoyed in his past life.

Was it called something like Solo Growth Rate x100?

A fantasy story about a protagonist with a special ability who grew far faster than anyone else. Right now, Jung Hyuk felt like he had become that protagonist himself.

Then a hand settled on his shoulder.

"Coach?"

The hand belonged to Lee Jun-seok, the Jeongun High soccer team's coach.

This guy's changed a lot too.

In Jung Hyuk's memory, Lee Jun-seok had been the type who talked far more than his coaching ability warranted. Yelling at players over nothing was standard, and he barely treated weaker players like human beings. Jung Hyuk's feelings toward him had never been warm.

Lately, though, the way Lee treated ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him had shifted. At his core, the man was soft toward the strong and hard toward the weak. Once the head coach started trusting and favoring Jung Hyuk, Lee Jun-seok's behavior flipped one hundred and eighty degrees.

"Hyuk, it's brutal out here today. Think you can handle the practice match?"

That bully-the-weak, bow-to-the-strong style was the kind Jung Hyuk despised most. But he was a man who had lived thirty-eight years. He knew, at minimum, how to handle a superior in social settings.

"Of course. Weather like this isn't going to stop me. You're the one who trained me hard enough to play through it, Coach."

Flattery delivered with a soft smile — the kind of social maneuver that left the recipient feeling good no matter what. Lee Jun-seok's mouth twitched into a grin as he slung an arm around Jung Hyuk's shoulders.

"You little bastard! You know I like that, right?"

"Of course I do. Honestly, Coach, I've always felt bad about it. You've looked out for me like this, and all I've done is show you mediocre performances. That's why I've been training like my life depends on it."

"Hahaha! I knew it! Your skills have been exploding lately — so that was all because of me, huh?"

"Obviously. Ah, keep that between us. Don't tell the head coach."

"Hahahaha! Of course not, you punk! Starting today, call me hyung outside school. Got it?"

"Got it. Hyung."

"Huh? You little— I said outside school!"

"Haha! Just kidding."

Truthfully, building a good relationship with Lee Jun-seok had never been part of Jung Hyuk's plan. Lately, though, a reason had appeared.

If I want to swat away those annoying flies, I need this guy.

Jung Hyuk turned his head and looked across the field. A group was watching him with crooked postures and open hostility. Five of them — the same ones who had made his life miserable in the past.

Talentless thugs who strut around calling themselves seniors.

School toughs. The kind who threw their weight around on campus. To Jung Hyuk, they were simply pathetic.

Just focus on training, for once.

In the past, those guys had had him by the throat. Jung Hyuk was not the type to take abuse quietly, but hierarchy was absolute here. When the seniors were in a bad mood, underclassmen got summoned and beaten with sticks. Push back, and the rest of your school life becomes hell. You might even run into them again in the pros, so better to keep your head down and endure. That was how he had gritted his teeth and swallowed it.

Not anymore. He had zero intention of taking anything from thugs like them. In the eyes of a thirty-eight-year-old Jung Hyuk, they were nothing but kids.

If you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠know what's good for you, don't touch me.

Hoping the delinquent seniors would make the smart choice, Jung Hyuk began his stretches. Stretching was something he always did before a practice match. Of course, with the trait One Who Never Gets Injured, he had no real risk of injury even without it.

Weirdly, I just feel calmer when I stretch.

He did it for psychological stability. He had done it his whole life, and it settled his mind. Even after gaining the trait, he had never once skipped it.

A short while later, finished with his stretches, Jung Hyuk walked out toward his position.

Lately, Jung Hyuk had been playing central midfield more often than not. The role shifted with the team's tactics, but central midfield was one of the hardest positions in soccer. It absorbed the heaviest pressure from the opposition, and under that pressure the player still had to balance attack and defense while delivering precise distribution.

Once his attributes had risen and he had fully settled into his current body, the head coach had made him a near-permanent starter. Among high schoolers, Jung Hyuk was a being outside the standard. Assists were a given, and even as a central midfielder he scored every match.

Today was no different.

Thump—

Jung Hyuk took the ball on the inside of his foot. In the same motion he feinted a turn to the left, then spun right — a body feint that snapped out in an instant.

"Ah!"

The opponent trying to stop him twisted in surprise, but his balance was already gone. Jung Hyuk was already past him.

"Stop him!"

The Jeongun High players knew from countless sessions that Jung Hyuk had to be shut down. Leave him free and he would carve them open with a razor pass or a shot. Two players stepped into his path. Both were seniors who had been glaring at him before the practice match began.

Thugs.

Drinking, smoking, assault, joyriding — he had even overheard them bragging about huffing glue. The idea of sharing a pitch with them made his skin crawl. In the future, he had never seen or heard a single thing about what became of them.

The two slammed into him hard. They had already started cursing before contact — the kind of noise that came from men with no confidence in their actual skill.

"Hey, Jung Hyuk, quit showing off and hand over the ball."

"If you don't want to get wrecked, just give it up clean."

As if.

Jung Hyuk muttered it under his breath and dropped his center of gravity. Ordinarily he would have done the opposite — lifted his weight high and let their force shove him, protecting the ball while his body gave ground. That approach produced one of two results: win a foul, or use their momentum to spin free.

But he had no interest in playing the gentleman with thugs like these.

In his previous life, at his peak, Jung Hyuk had played in the Premier League — the roughest league on the planet. As a world-class player and his team's ace, he had lived under constant heavy pressure and filthy fouls. Dirty plays in the referee's blind spots. Pinches to the ribs. Arms raised high to catch a face. He had taken all of it, over and over.

They say you learn by getting hit. After enough of it, Jung Hyuk had learned to read dirty play before it landed — and to dish it out himself. He had learned how to torment opponents while slipping past the eyes of the best referees in the EPL.

And now, he intended to give these thugs a taste of a veteran's dirty play.