Under The Stars
"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 fueled by 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.
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.
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 in the twilight.
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. 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 turned practice into an obsession.
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. 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. He celebrated like a champion crowned in a World Cup final, every stride echoing his triumph.
Malik, now sprawled on his back in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, managed to gasp, "You're insane, bro. Straight-up football-crazy!"
Amani grinned down at him, but inside, his heart raced for another reason. He pulled up his system interface — the invisible menu only he could see — and scrolled straight to the LEGENDARY Skills tab.
****
----
USER MENU
*USER STATS
*LEGENDARY MISSIONS
*SYSTEM SHOP (locked)
*SYSTEM LOTTERY (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. 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 from over, and 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 rewarded Amani by unlocking its OBSERVATION tool function capable of spying on the talents of others. 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.
Amani couldn't compete with the three of them in terms of talent alone. So, he 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 hard work and skills.
Amani calmed his mind and clicked on the LEGENDARY-skills tab in the User-Stats menu.
****
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. 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.
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.
Malik arched an eyebrow, his tone dripping with good-natured skepticism. "Whatever you say, Master Jedi," he quipped.
"But seriously," Malik continued, leaning in conspiratorially, "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 over; the future was now The Netherlands. "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. "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!"
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. "What about you? 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."
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. "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."
Seeing a flicker of vulnerability, Malik nudged him playfully. "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.
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.
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.
****
END OF 1ST VOLUME: BEATING THE ODDS
Thank You.