"Please, Malik," Amani's voice rang out, cutting through the golden glow of the setting sun. The sky above Mbakari Stadium was a living canvas of oranges and purples, the colors melting into the horizon like the final, passionate strokes of a master painter.
"Just ten more balls, and we're done. I swear." Amani stepped back, planting his feet just outside the 18-yard box. His eyes shone with an intensity that had only grown stronger since his recruitment by FC Utrecht, a hunger for improvement, for perfection, for that elusive moment when every strike feels transcendent.
Malik groaned dramatically, collapsing onto the grass with an exaggerated flourish as if he'd fought ten battles that day and lost them all. "You're a machine, you know that? Training all day, every day. My legs feel like boiled spaghetti, and yet here you are, still going strong!" he exclaimed, half-admiring and half-teasing his relentless friend.
Amani smirked, dismissing the complaint with a casual wave of his hand. "Less whining, more tossing," he shot back, his tone light yet unwavering. The camaraderie between them was as familiar as the worn-out turf beneath their feet, a friendship forged in the crucible of shared dreams and mutual respect.
With a theatrical sigh, Malik shook his head, but his grin betrayed him. He picked up the next ball, tossing it high into the balmy evening air, and hollered, "Let's go, Mr. Future Superstar!" His voice was playful yet encouraging, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes.
Amani's left foot sliced through the air like a honed blade. In a fluid, almost choreographed motion, he connected perfectly with the ball.
It skimmed low and fast, dancing over the grass like a skipping stone before slamming into the net with satisfying precision. The sound of the impact echoed through the quiet stadium, a rhythmic beat that punctuated their relentless training session.
"Again!" Amani shouted, already dashing back to his starting position as if driven by an internal metronome that never slowed.
Ball after ball, shot after shot, his strikes grew sharper, faster, deadlier. Malik's arms burned from the unceasing tossing, but every time he looked up, Amani's eyes were locked onto the target, a steadfast determination that transformed simple practice into sacred ritual.
The final ball arced toward him in the deepening twilight. Amani didn't even hesitate; his body reacted instinctively as if every muscle already knew the perfect move before his mind could command it.
His foot met the ball cleanly, and it rocketed into the top corner of the net with a flash of brilliance that sent ripples of exhilaration through the empty field.
"GOAAAAAL!" Amani roared, sprinting across the pitch with his arms wide open as if embracing the world itself. He celebrated like a champion crowned in a World Cup final, every stride echoing his triumph, every shout releasing the joy of a dream becoming reality.
Malik, now sprawled on his back in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, managed to gasp between breaths, "You're insane, bro. Straight-up football-crazy!"
Amani grinned down at him, but inside, his heart raced for another reason entirely. He pulled up his system interface, the invisible menu only he could see, and scrolled straight to the LEGENDARY Skills tab, eager to measure his progress.
****
----
USER MENU
*USER STATS
*LEGENDARY MISSIONS
*SYSTEM SHOP (locked)
*OBSERVATION
----
NB: Pls level up the system to unlock more functions.
****
There, among a series of progress bars and metrics that measured every ounce of his hard work, Amani's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
Each number, each percentage, was a testament to the sweat and determination he had poured into every training session.
Tonight, as the stadium grew quiet and the stars began to peek through the darkening sky, Amani realized that those small slivers of progress were not just numbers; they were proof that with persistence, even the tiniest improvement could change everything.
At that moment, as he absorbed the data and allowed the satisfaction of progress to wash over him, Amani felt invincible. The trials were far behind him now, but the journey was just beginning.
With every drop of effort, he was sculpting a future where his passion and hard work would one day set him apart from the rest. The evening air buzzed with possibility, and deep inside, he knew that tomorrow would bring even greater challenges and even greater victories.
After helping his team win the trial match, the system had rewarded Amani by unlocking its OBSERVATION tool function, which was a powerful ability capable of spying on the talents of others, revealing strengths and weaknesses invisible to the naked eye. However, using the tool had almost shocked him out of his boots.
The day after the trials, he found out that Stephen Nondi, Tobias Knost, and George Vyner were all A-grade talents, gifted with natural abilities that most players could only dream of possessing.
Amani couldn't compete with the three of them in terms of raw talent alone. So, he had upped his training routine after realizing he had accidentally unlocked another LEGENDARY skill when scoring the first goal in the trial match.
If he couldn't beat them on talent, he resolved he would defeat them through relentless hard work and specialized skills that would set him apart.
Amani calmed his mind and clicked on the LEGENDARY-skills tab in the User-Stats menu, the blue glow illuminating his focused expression.
****
LEGENDARY SKILLS: 2
(i) RUUD GULLIT'S VISIONARY PASS (1st-level: Progress 10%)
(ii) DIPPING SHOT (1st-level: Progress 1%)
*****
Just seeing those numbers made Amani's chest swell with pride. Three grueling weeks of sweat, dirt, and sheer exhaustion had all culminated in that tiny sliver of progress, a mere 1% improvement in his Dipping Shot skill.
But to him, that 1% was everything. It wasn't merely a skill; it was undeniable proof that relentless hard work could, in fact, bend reality in his favor, reshaping his destiny one percentage point at a time.
Lost in his thoughts, Amani barely registered the sound of Malik's voice cutting through the silence. "Hey! You keep zoning out after training. What's up with that? Got some kind of secret weapon you're hiding?" Malik teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
With a snap, Amani shut his system menu and spun around, offering his best, most innocent smile. "Just…visualizing the perfect shot, you know? I replay it in my head until it becomes pure muscle memory," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant while hiding the truth that would be impossible to explain.
Malik arched an eyebrow, his tone dripping with good-natured skepticism. "Whatever you say, Master Jedi," he quipped, making a mock bow.
"But seriously," Malik continued, leaning in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "your long shots have gotten ridiculous. Three weeks ago, you were lucky to hit the goal once in ten tries, and now, you're nailing every single one. If those French scouts saw you today, they'd be crying into their croissants."
At the mere mention of France, Amani's smile faltered for a split second before he forced it back into place. That chapter was closed; the future was now the Netherlands, a new path opening before him. "Speaking of which," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, "has your dad finally signed off on the Netherlands trip, or am I flying solo?"
Malik's face lit up like a Christmas tree, his excitement contagious as he practically bounced on his toes. "He signed! Coach Juma had to write a whole essay on scholarships and school bursaries, but it worked. My old man's still grumpy about it, but hey, Europe, here we come!" He punched the air triumphantly, as if already celebrating their future success.
A burst of laughter erupted from Amani as he slapped Malik on the back. "Told you to call in the coach weeks ago. You love making things harder for yourself, don't you?"
Malik shrugged, grinning. "Drama keeps life spicy."
Malik then eyed Amani curiously, his expression turning more serious. "What about you? Is all your paperwork good? Visa, permits, consent forms, police letters?"
Amani leaned back, his expression confident as he replied, "Sorted. We went to Malindi to get my mother's signature. I'm flying out next Tuesday." The words were simple, but they carried the weight of a life about to change forever.
Malik's jaw dropped in disbelief. "That soon? You're not even gonna throw a goodbye party for your mama?"
Amani's smile dimmed slightly, and his voice softened, a rare vulnerability showing through his confident exterior. "She knows, and I've already said my goodbyes, and I've been with her for a whole week. She always knew I'd leave someday. This is just… earlier than we thought."
The unspoken emotions hung in the air between them, the sacrifice of leaving home, the weight of a mother's hopes, the bittersweet taste of dreams coming true at the cost of separation.
Seeing a flicker of vulnerability, Malik nudged him playfully, breaking the moment. "Don't get all dramatic now, bro. We're gonna tear up the Netherlands together, just like we ruled Mbakari, only with better shoes and colder weather!"
Amani laughed, shaking off the weight of the moment. "Deal. First one to score a free kick in a real match owes the other a month of laundry duty."
Malik groaned good-naturedly. "Why do you always bet chores?"
"Because you always lose," Amani shot back with a teasing grin that lit up his entire face.
The two friends stood there in the fading light, their sweat drying on skin as the future crackled in the air like static electricity.
In just a week, Mbakari and Bamburi FC would be nothing more than a memory, and Europe would be their new playground, a place where dreams would be chased and victories celebrated.
But for tonight, the field was still theirs. Malik picked up the ball with a spark in his eye and called, "One last shot?"
Amani's grin turned to pure mischief. "Only if you can toss it right this time!" he challenged, falling back into their familiar rhythm.
Their laughter rang out across the empty stadium as they began a final playful session under the twilight sky.
The ball flew between them, each volley a mix of fun, competition, and a promise of what was to come. With every shot, they chased dreams larger than the field itself, their hearts full of hope and ambition.
As stars began to pepper the darkening sky, the two friends continued their game, their joyful shouts and the echo of the ball bouncing off the turf a testament to the resilience of youth and the unyielding pursuit of greatness.
In that magical night, every pass and every shot was a step closer to a future where nothing was impossible, a future that they were determined to claim together.
For Amani, the system had given him a second chance, but it was his own determination that would write the next chapter of his story, a story that was just beginning to unfold.
****
END OF 1ST VOLUME: BEATING THE ODDS