THE STORM'S GIFT**
*(Ibukun Okocha's System Awakening)*
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### **The Weight of Shadows**
**Location:** *Abraham Adesanya Polytechnic Football Pitch, Ijebu-Igbo, Nigeria*
The final whistle carved a fresh wound in Ibukun's pride. His teammates' laughter rang hollow as he slouched on the bench, his grandmother's hand-me-down boots caked in mud he hadn't earned. Coach Adebayo's gaze swept past him, as always.
"Okocha!" Kola, the team's cocky striker, flung a sweaty jersey at his chest. "Fetch the cones, yeah? Only thing you're good for."
Ibukun's jaw tightened. *Good for nothing*. Three years of skipped meals to afford secondhand cleats, of sleepless nights listening to Grandma's labored breaths through their shack's thin walls—all for this.
Rain clouds loomed as he trudged home, his phone buzzing with Grandma's Yoruba warning: *"Òjò máa kọ́ ẹ lọ́wọ́."* ("Don't let the rain sweep you away.")
He scoffed. *Let it try.*
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### **Lightning's Wrath**
**Location:** *Abandoned Market Street, Ijebu-Igbo*
The storm exploded with biblical fury. Palm trees thrashed like angry spirits, and the red earth dissolved into rivers of sludge. Ibukun sprinted past shuttered stalls, lightning fracturing the sky.
A deafening *crack*—
—searing blue-white fire engulfed him. Pain detonated in every nerve. Visions erupted: Maradona's Hand of God, Zidane's headbutt, Marta's serpentine dribbles. A voice boomed in his skull: ***"HOST DETECTED. PASSION: FOOTBALL. RESOLVE: UNRULY. SYSTEM INTEGRATION: COMMENCING."***
Ibukun collapsed, convulsing, as the storm swallowed him whole.
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### **The Terror of Awakening**
**Location:** *Ibukun's One-Room Home*
Ibukun jolted awake, drenched in sweat. Grandma snored softly in her armchair, her knitting needles still clutched in bony fingers. His body thrummed—muscles taut, veins humming like live wires.
***"UNRULY FOOTBALL PATH SYSTEM INITIALIZED."***
Text seared his vision:
**UNRULY FOOTBALL PATH v1.0**
- **Host**: Ibukun Okocha
- **Level**: 1 (Rookie)
- **Juju Points**: 0/100
- **Talent Assessment**: Grade D
*(Evaluation: A candle in a hurricane. Extinguish or ignite.)*
**USER MENU**
- *STATS*
- *MISSIONS*
- *SKILL SHOP* (Locked)
- *LOTTERY* (Locked)
Ibukun's breath hitched. *What the hell is this?* He pinched his arm—hard. Pain flared. Real.
***"FAILURE IS FOR THE TALENTLESS. PROGRESS OR BE DISCARDED."***
"Discarded?" he whispered. The word clawed at his throat. *Am I going mad?*
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### **The First Glimpse of Power**
Ibukun's trembling finger hovered over *STATS*. Text bloomed:
**PHYSICAL FITNESS**
- Speed: D+
- Stamina: C-
- Strength: D
- Agility: D+
**TECHNIQUE**
- Dribbling: E+
- Passing: C-
- Shooting: D
**MENTAL**
- Composure: E
- Vision: D+
- Leadership: F
**X-FACTOR**: NONE
*Average. Always average.* His fists clenched. But then—
***"NEW MISSION: PATH OF THE UNSEEN."***
- **Task 1**: Run 10 km daily for 7 days.
- **Task 2**: Complete 200 sit-ups, 100 push-ups daily.
- **Task 3**: Score 5 free kicks in practice.
**REWARDS**
- *B-Grade Vitality Elixir* (Heals injuries, +10% stamina).
- *Precision Passing Lv. 1* (Iniesta's spatial awareness).
- 20 Juju Points.
**PENALTY**
- *System Discardment*.
- *Chronic Knee Degradation* (Irreversible).
Ibukun's heart hammered. *This can't be real… but what if it is?*
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### **The Edge of Madness**
Ibukun staggered into the storm, his grandmother's scarf knotted tight. The polytechnic pitch was a ghost town, goalposts swaying in the gale. He lined up a half-deflated ball, rain stinging his eyes.
***"FREE KICK SIMULATOR ACTIVATED."***
A holographic wall of defenders materialized. Ibukun yelped, stumbling back. "What the—?!"
The system's voice cut through his panic: ***"FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN DISCARDMENT."***
"Alright, alright!" He steadied his breath. *Thwack.* The ball veered wildly. *Thwack.* Wide. *Thwack.* The net rippled.
By dawn, his hands were raw, but the counter glowed: *1/5*.
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### **The Spark of Hope**
Grandma waited on their porch, a tin mug of ginger tea steaming in her hands. Her milky eyes narrowed. "You've got stormlight in your veins, ọmọ mi."
Ibukun froze. "It's… nothing."
She shrugged. "The gods work in strange ways." She shuffled inside, leaving him trembling—not from fear now, but exhilaration.
***"MISSION PROGRESS: 1/5 FREE KICKS. 6 DAYS REMAINING."***
Ibukun drained the tea, its heat searing through the cold. *This is real.*
At practice, Coach Adebayo barked drills. Ibukun's passes—once clumsy—now sliced through defenders with surgical precision. Kola gaped. "Since when can *you* do that?!"
Ibukun smirked. "Luck."
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### **The Hook**
That night, the system hummed: ***"UPGRADE OR BE DISCARDED."***
Ibukun lay awake, the stats screen burning behind his eyelids. *Grade D. Not for long.*
He laced his boots and slipped into the storm, the ball at his feet.
*Thwack.*
The net rippled again.
***"2/5."***
*Average?* Ibukun Okocha grinned. *Watch me burn.*
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