The rain had just stopped when Richard Ardiansyah jogged along the edge of the dirt field near his rented house in Surabaya. His breathing was heavy, sweat pouring, but he didn't stop. He was only fifteen years old, but his eyes already held the weight of someone who had lived life with the burdens of an adult.
A tattered t-shirt, torn sweatpants, borrowed shoes.
But every night, he was the only one still running when the other kids had gone home.
Richard stared at the tattered plastic ball in front of him. He caught his breath, then kicked it toward the goal made from two bamboo poles.
Shoot!
The ball missed again, too wide to the right.
"Seriously, Dit? Still missing? It's been the hundredth time!" Richard clutched his hair in frustration.
Today's practice was terrible. He didn't know why. His legs felt stiff. His focus was all over the place. Even his first touch, which was usually decent, was like a beginner's.
But he picked up the ball, returned to the starting point, and tried again.
Because for Richard, there was no other choice but to keep moving forward.
---
That morning, the atmosphere at the amateur club's training ground was very different. It was crowded. Noisy. All the players seemed excited—except one.
"I hear FC Utrecht is holding a selection in Surabaya," said one of the players proudly.
Richard turned. "Seriously?"
"Seriously. But not for someone like you, Dit."
A dismissive laugh rang out.
Richard was silent. He was used to it.
Since moving from Lamongan after his parents' divorce, life had become increasingly difficult. His mother, Sumi, worked hard to support his younger siblings, Lintang and Tasya, selling small goods at the market. There was no time to think about talent. No time to complain.
There was only one thing Richard had: determination.
The coach approached with a clipboard in hand. "Richard."
"Yes, Coach?"
"You're diligent… but your talent is minimal. You're small. Your dribbling is mediocre. Your shooting is terrible. If you want to be selected for a European team, you have to be realistic."
Those words were like a knife.
But Richard just nodded slowly. "Okay, Coach."
"The others might make it. You… need a miracle."
Everyone laughed.
Richard lowered his head, suppressing the bitter taste in his throat. He wanted to be angry, but he knew he was weak. What they said… wasn't wrong.
But one small sentence in his heart kept ringing:
Precisely because I have no talent… I have to work twice as hard.
---
That night, it rained heavily. Most people chose to sleep, but Richard returned to the dirt field. The rain poured down on his thin body, but he continued practicing.
Dribbling.
Shooting.
Sprinting.
Repeat.
The ball bounced wildly several times. His knees were chafed. His breath was getting shallow.
But he didn't stop.
It was as if his entire life depended on that night's practice.
"If I don't practice... will I be successful?" Richard took another run-up.
He kicked.
The ball missed again.
Richard stared at the muddy ground. There comes a point when people want to give up, and tonight... he almost reached it.
Memories of his mother, Sumi, forcing a smile despite being tired from trading. His younger siblings asking for news, "Bro, when are you going to be on TV?" even though they knew the family's finances were in disarray. All of it pressed down on his chest like a thousand-pound weight.
"I should have realized myself..."
"They were right... I have no talent..."
"I'm just an impossible dream..."
He fell to his knees, hugging the ball, the rain covering his tears.
"Why can't I be just a little bit better? Just a little bit..."
But then—in that moment of utter desperation—something happened.
Silence.
The air around him seemed to vibrate, and then...
"Ding."
A loud metallic sound echoed in his head.
Richard was shocked and stood up immediately. "W-what…?"
Suddenly, a transparent blue screen appeared right in front of him.
It wasn't a shadow.
It wasn't a hallucination.
It was real.
---
[Striker System Activated]
---
Richard stared at it wide-eyed.
"W-what is this?"
The text shone brightly, like a hologram from the future. The pouring rain didn't affect the screen at all.
Then the next line appeared:
[User Detected: Richard Ardiansyah, Age 15]
[Status: No Talent – High Determination]
[Compatibility: 99.7%]
"Impossible…" Richard took a step back.
Was this a dream? Or had he gone insane from overtraining?
The screen changed again.
---
[Welcome, Player.]
[Striker System Mode: Beginner – Bronze Tier]
[Initial Skill Granted]
• Trajectory Vision (Lv.1)
• Micro Sprint Burst (Lv.1)
• Iron Will (Lv.1)
• Pain Resistance (Lv.1)
---
Richard's lips trembled.
This… this is crazy.
This is impossible.
But the screen didn't disappear.
Then a new panel opened:
---
[Starting Mission: "Rise From Zero"]
Goal:
Perform 300 juggles
Score 20 shots on target
Sprint 1 km without stopping
Reward:
+2 Stamina
+1 Speed
+50 EXP
Time: 24 Hours
---
Richard froze.
Inside his chest, something long dead… was rekindled.
"This… is a chance?"
He clenched his fists, feeling his body tremble not from the cold, but from adrenaline.
In his entire life, he had never been given a miracle.
But tonight… it had come to him.
And he wasn't going to waste it.
Richard stood back in the rain.
He stared at the screen with a new aura in his eyes.
"Okay… if this is real…"
He caught his breath, ready to begin his first juggling act.
"I'll prove that even a talentless kid can become a legend."
And for the first time in his life, he felt—
the first step toward an impossible dream… had just begun.