Chapter 1: The Unqualified Transmigrator
"Rohan..."
"Rohan... what are you spacing out for?"
The voice cut through the mental fog. In a stark, concrete room, a boy with raven-black hair blinked, his vision clearing to reveal a face leaning uncomfortably close—a boy with a bob cut and eccentric yellow highlights.
Is he talking to me?
Rohan frowned. Before he could ask if the boy had the wrong person, a sharp headache spiked behind his eyes. Memories that weren't his flooded in, overwriting his reality.
Rohan Verma. An Indian transfer student living in Japan.
Back in India, he wasn't a footballer; he was a state-level Kabaddi raider, a physical powerhouse known for explosive speed and unshakeable balance. After moving to Japan, a high school coach saw him run during PE and threw him onto the football pitch. He didn't know tactics, he didn't have finesse, but he could outrun and out-muscle anyone.
That raw, unrefined athleticism had triggered an anomaly in the data, earning him an invitation letter stamped with a blue pentagon.
As the memories settled, the confusion in Rohan's eyes vanished, replaced by a deep, abyssal calm.
He knew where he was.
He had transmigrated into Blue Lock.
He was now one of the three hundred unpolished gems, thrown into this cement prison to devour each other until only the world's greatest egoist remained.
The Good News: He was a die-hard anime fan in his past life. He knew the script. He knew who survived, who failed, and the twisted philosophy of Ego Jinpachi.
The Bad News: After a quick mental audit of his new body, he realized he was in deep trouble.
The previous owner's "football talent" was a fraud. He was a track star in cleats. A battering ram with no steering wheel. He had zero ball control, zero vision, and zero technical foundation. In a facility designed to create the world's best striker, he was a total amateur.
How long can a novice survive in a cage full of hungry wolves?
Statistically? I shouldn't survive the first hour.
"Talk about a hellish start," Rohan muttered, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Rohan? You okay, buddy?"
The voice came again. Rohan turned to look at the speaker properly this time.
Bachira Meguru. The Monster.
According to his new memories, Rohan and Bachira had played a practice match against each other. Bachira had taken a liking to Rohan's "wild animal" physical style.
"I'm fine," Rohan said, shaking his head and slipping seamlessly into character. He needed information. "Just waking up. How long have we been here? Has the four-eyed guy announced the rules yet?"
"Four-eyed guy?" Bachira tilted his head, then grinned. "Oh, you mean Ego-san? Nope! I think we're still waiting for one last person. Anyway, I'm done talking, suddenly sleepy..."
Bachira yawned, curled up like a cat on the cold concrete floor, and instantly zoned out.
One last person...
Rohan's eyes narrowed. That meant Isagi Yoichi, the protagonist, was about to walk through that door. And the moment he did, the first culling—the game of Tag—would begin.
Time was short.
He needed an edge. If this was a transmigration scenario, where was the standard-issue cheat code?
System?
You there? Give me a sign.
He called out in his mind.
For a second, nothing. Then, a stream of neon-blue data, reminiscent of Blue Lock's holographic aesthetic, cascaded across his retina.
Bingo.
Rohan suppressed a grin and scanned the translucent panel hovering before him.
[Name: Rohan Verma]
[Age: 17]
[Height: 185cm]
[Weight: 78kg]
[Physical Stats (Japanese High School Top Tier)]
[Power: 88 | Agility: 85 | Physique: 87 | Speed: 91 | Balance: 92]
[Football Technique (Complete Amateur)]
[Shooting: 35 | Dribbling: 40 | Passing: 42 | Trapping: 30 | Off-the-Ball: 55]
[Unique Skill: Raider's Instinct (Kabaddi/Contact Specialist)]
Rohan's eye twitched as he read the numbers. The disparity was comical.
His physical specs were monstrous—better than most of the named characters at this stage. But his technical stats? They were garbage. A trapping score of 30 meant the ball would bounce five meters away if he tried to stop it.
And the skill... Raider's Instinct?
Great. I'm playing a battle royale football manga, and my special ability is tackling people?
Rohan took a deep breath. He couldn't complain. In Blue Lock, a superior physique was a weapon. It was a foundation he could build an ego on.
Clack.
The locker room door opened. A nervous-looking boy with dark hair walked in, looking like a deer stepping into a lion's den.
Isagi Yoichi. The hero had arrived.
The moment Isagi stepped across the threshold, the system panel flickered and updated.
[Newbie Mission: The Qualification of a Demon]
[Objective: In the upcoming elimination game, personally defeat and eliminate one player.]
[Reward: Newbie Gift Pack (Rank S ~ D). The quality of the reward depends on the potential and value of the eliminated target.]
Eliminate one person.
Reward scales with the target's value.
Rohan's pupils contracted. His breathing grew heavy.
The System was baiting him. It didn't want him to just survive; it wanted him to hunt. To get the S-Rank reward, he couldn't just kick out a no-name background character. He had to take out the biggest fish in the pond.
His gaze sharpened, losing its warmth. He looked like a predator scanning a herd.
He saw Gagamaru cleaning his ear, the Red Panther Chigiri staring at the wall, the muscle-hero Kunigami looking stoic, and the hot-headed Raichi yelling at someone...
All future members of Team Z. All full of potential.
But Rohan didn't stop there. His eyes swept past them, locking onto a figure surrounded by admirers near the center of the room.
The boy had perfectly styled hair and a dazzling, media-trained smile. He was politely nodding as a bald monk—Igarashi—showered him with praise.
Kira Ryosuke. The "Jewel of Japan." The genius meant to carry the national team.
He's the one.
In the original story, Kira was the first stepping stone, eliminated by Isagi's awakening. But that was plot armor. In terms of raw specs and current reputation, Kira was undeniably the strongest player in this room right now.
Is there a better way to prove my value than crushing a genius?
Is there a better way to secure an S-Rank start?
Rohan made his choice. A cold, cruel smirk touched his lips.
Sorry, Jewel. You're going to be my sacrifice.
"Change into your uniforms yet, you unpolished gems?"
Suddenly, the screen at the front of the room blazed to life. The distorted, pixelated face of a man with a bob cut and thick glasses appeared.
Ego Jinpachi. The master of this asylum.
"Congratulations. You have passed my arbitrary initial screening."
Ego's voice was scratchy, grating, and laced with madness. It commanded instant silence.
"The three hundred best strikers under eighteen from across the country have been gathered in this building."
Ego spread his arms, his grin widening on the screen.
"Listen closely. Football is a sport where you score goals by taking them from others. And here, in Blue Lock, through top-tier technology and rational training, I will forge the world's greatest Egoist Striker."
"From this moment on, you will live here. You will eat here. You will serve my philosophy."
"Your old football lives are over. But... if you can climb over the corpses of your rivals and stand at the top of this pyramid, you will become the best striker in the world."
"That is the totality of the 'Blue Lock' project. Nice to meet you, you talentless diamonds."
The speech was electric. Rohan could feel the tension in the room spiking, the mixture of fear and adrenaline pumping through the veins of every boy present.
Rohan, however, remained impassive. He had heard the speech before. He was waiting for the bell to ring.
"Now, let's begin the entrance exam," Ego sneered.
"The game is Tag. The time limit is 136 seconds."
"The person holding the ball when the time runs out is 'It'. And the person who is 'It'... gets lost. Their career ends here."
Thud.
A spotlight slammed down onto the center of the floor. A ball dropped from a hatch in the ceiling, bouncing once before rolling to a stop at the feet of the monk, Igarashi Gurimu.
Igarashi blinked, hugging the ball stupidly.
On the screen, a massive red timer began to tick.
[135]
[134]
"GAAAH! I'M IT?! WHY ME?!"
Igarashi screamed, and the atmosphere shattered.
Panic exploded. The room turned into a stampede. Boys scrambled away, climbing over benches, shoving each other, desperate to put distance between themselves and the ball.
"Stay away!"
"Don't come near me!"
Amidst the chaos, only two people remained relatively still.
One was Rohan. He stood his ground, leaning against a locker, watching the panic with the detached interest of a scientist observing lab rats.
The other was the genius, Kira Ryosuke. He merely took a few elegant steps back, maintaining his composure, as if this childish game was beneath his dignity.
"Wait! Stop running!"
Igarashi wailed, sprinting into the crowd with the ball, but he was too slow. He couldn't tag anyone.
Desperate, his eyes darted around until they landed on the frozen, bewildered figure of Isagi Yoichi.
"You! You're not moving!"
Igarashi's eyes lit up with malicious hope. He wound up and smashed the ball directly at Isagi.
Isagi gasped, flinching hard. He dove to the side, barely avoiding the impact.
Bang!
The ball slammed into the wall, ricocheted sharply, and rolled perfectly to the feet of the boy who had been sleeping on the floor.
Bachira Meguru.
(To be Continued)