The rain hammered against the windows of the small apartment, the kind of relentless downpour that turned the city grey and suffocating. Mark sat hunched on his worn couch, laptop balanced on his knees, the glow of the screen illuminating his tired face. At twenty-eight, he looked older—dark circles under his eyes, shoulders perpetually slumped from twelve-hour shifts at the warehouse.
On the screen, Borussia Dortmund was playing Bayern Munich. He should've been sleeping—his alarm would go off in five hours—but sleep could wait. Football couldn't.
"Come on, Dortmund," he muttered, watching the yellow-and-black jerseys chase shadows around Bayern's dominant midfield. They were losing 3-1. Again. Always losing when it mattered.
His eyes drifted to the sidebar of the streaming site, where an old article caught his attention: "Marco Reus: The Greatest 'What If' in Football History." He'd read it before. Hell, he'd read everything about Reus. The injuries. The missed tournaments. The loyalty that felt more like a curse than a virtue.
"What a waste," Mark whispered, not for the first time. "If he'd just stayed healthy... if he'd just left Dortmund for Real Madrid or Bayern... he could've been as good as Messi."
The match ended. 3-1. Mark closed the laptop and stared at the dark screen, seeing his own reflection—hollow eyes, defeated expression. When had he become this? When had life become just work, sleep, and watching other people live their dreams?
His chest tightened. Just stress, probably. He'd felt it before, that squeezing sensation behind his ribs. He should eat better. Exercise. Do something other than work and watch football.
The pain intensified.
Mark stood, suddenly dizzy. His laptop clattered to the floor. The room tilted, walls sliding sideways like a ship in a storm. He reached for the armrest, missed, stumbled forward.
"No," he gasped, clutching his chest. "Not like this. Not... nothing..."
His knees hit the carpet. The pain was everywhere now, crushing, absolute. His last coherent thought was absurd: *I never even played. Just watched. Always watched. *
Then darkness swallowed everything.
---
And then: light.
With soft glow of consciousness returning, he lifted his eyelids. But then it hit him. His body felt like it was made of lead. His ears, constantly ringing, felt like it could explode at any time. The sound of fan turning, laughter of a few teenagers, smell of sweaty clothes, and glaring glow of night lamp –everything felt overwhelming for him.
After what if felt like an hour, Mark opened his eyes.
No. Not Mark. Not anymore.
He was sitting in a single dormitory bed, wearing loose clothes—yellow shirt, black shorts, bare footed. Then it hit him. His feet. These weren't his feet. Too small. His hands came up instinctively—not the calloused, warehouse-worn hands he knew, but smooth, young, unblemished.
"Reus! Are you coming or not?" A voice shouted from behind the door.
The name hit him like a physical blow.
*Reus. *
Before he could process, instinct took over— "No, I am busy".
After a short silence another voice: "okay, suit yourself. We are leaving." Soon, the teenage sound became distant.
He once again checks his body. Finding all this even more unbelievable, he goes to the nearest plain mirror.
The face that stared him back was not of the tired eyes with dark circles. This was not face of man in his late twenties. This one was much younger. About fifteen. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a skinny but athletic body, and the faint outline of a figure he was familiar with.
"Marco Reus!!!"
It really was him. Or more accurately a younger version him.
"What is happening?"
He tried to search his memory for answers. And he got what he was looking for.
'He' was Marco reus. A young academy player at the academy of Borussia Dortmund. Born on 1986, at Dortmund, West Germany. He joined Borussia Dortmund youth academy from Post SV Dortmund at 1996.
All of this matched with information about the Marco reus he knew. But this shocked him even more. After forcefully calming himself, he realised,
"So, I have reincarnated as Marco reus. Not only that, I also time travelled to 2005, to a time he was still at the academy."
He was some what familiar with situation. Although not much he has read lot of web novels during his younger days. So, he comprehended and accepted the situation more easily.
Then he lamented, "But why does it have to be reus? He is known for his glass man physique. Despite his incredible talent, he has missed out about 40% of playing career due to injuries."
As a diehard football fan, Mark also once dreamt of putting himself in the field by becoming a professional footballer. So, although he found himself in a bizarre situation, he was also looking forward to his new life. After all, he is still in the Dortmund academy. If he was talented, he can try it out as a pro. Other wise it is still easy for him to live off his past life memories. Stocks, sports betting are also a viable choice.
So, he found his situation a little depressing.
What can I do with this injury prone body? Although I love to be pro, I am not masochist put myself on the battle field with his fragile body.
"But I don't want to just quit by using this an excuse. At least I should try first. Should I transfer out and look for a new club? Who knows, maybe I will have a stable career at other clubs. Or I can change position and try as a wing back? Defenders generally have a longer career than attackers."
Just as he was trying to brain storm, a translucent screen appears in front of him.
"There really is a system."
Marco was overjoyed. Although he hoped for a system, he didn't take it for granted.
After all, not all protagonist has systems. And he didn't dare to think he would get system because he once read so, in a novel.
Without thinking much, he read the system interface.
===============================[FOOTBALL MASTERY SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
Host: Marco Reus (Age 15)
Status: Integration Complete
Welcome, User.
Body Optimization: Incomplete [! Proceed?]
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
He soon noticed the glaring red exclamation mark in the interface.
"Body optimisation? What is that?"
Although he had a slight inkling, he was not sure his guess was correct. So, he mentally clicked on proceed.
Just then a strange sensation arose within him.
Pain. Deep inside, at the cellular level. Not acute pain, but wrongness. Then it began to change. Like rebuilding a cracked foundation, which was waiting to collapse.
He already knew, his—*Reus's*—body was a ticking time bomb. The injuries that would define his career were already written into his DNA, his muscle fibres, his connective tissue.
It felt like his entire body was being rewritten at the molecular level. Cells reorganizing. Muscle fibres strengthening. Ligaments thickening. Bone density increasing. It hurt—God, it hurt—but not like an injury. Like growing pains compressed into thirty seconds of absolute agony.
After an unknown period of time, the sensation went away, and then the wrongness within him changed. A new notification appeared on the system screen.
-----------------------------------------------------------
[one time body optimisation]: complete
[You have given a resilient physique as a starting bonus.](Note: this status susceptible for degradation. Maintain with proper training)
[You have given a second chance, talent, and opportunity to correct your mistakes.]
[Career mission]: Make Marco Reus the legend he should have been.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[mission 1]:
Prevent Release from Academy (March 2005)
Time Remaining: 8 Months
Current Skill Level: Insufficient
Begin Training?
-----------------------------------------------------------
Then it occurred to him. Marco Reus's career was not free sailing from the start.
He was released from Dortmund academy at 2005.
The reason? The coaches said he was talentless.
Although it was true that he doesn't have the necessary skills now- according to the system, it was a decision that Dortmund regretted deeply. It eventually cost them millions to bring him back home.
Now- if he wishes avoid these complications and develop from the right age, build a solid foundation, he has to show the coaches that he is important.
Despite everything—the impossibility, the insanity, the sheer absurdity of it all—Mark felt something he hadn't felt in years.
Hope.
"Yes,"
he whispered to the empty air.
"Let's begin."