The sun beat down on the Kelana Warriors FC training ground, the field a stretch of sunburnt grass. The players, already tired from hours of drills, kept their eyes on the coaches as they prepared for the next round of challenges.
Eric stood at the edge of the field, a sense of pressure weighing down on his shoulders. His heart was still heavy from the initial failure, but there was no time for self-pity. Not anymore.
"Eric!" Coach Adrian's voice echoed across the field. "You're up."
With a deep breath, Eric forced his feet to move. He stepped onto the field, his teammates watching from the sidelines. Their eyes didn't carry the judgment they once did. There was a sense of camaraderie now, a collective understanding that everyone was pushing toward the same goal.
But Eric still felt alone.
The practice was grueling, more intense than any training he had experienced before. He struggled, missing passes, fumbling dribbles. His mind was clouded, his body aching from exhaustion. He knew that Coach Ricardo was keeping a close eye on him, his sharp gaze never wavering. The weight of expectation crushed him, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't give up.
After training, the field emptied as the sun dipped below the horizon. Eric's legs were sore, but his mind refused to shut down. As the others walked off to get their well-earned rest, he lingered. He needed more. He couldn't afford to fail again.
A soft voice broke through his thoughts.
"Eric."
He turned to see Alisha standing in the shadows by the goalpost, her arms crossed, a sly smile on her face.
"What are you doing here?" Eric asked, confused.
"Training. You don't think you're the only one who's working, do you?" Alisha grinned, walking toward him. "You're not the only one who wants to be great."
Eric swallowed hard. "I'm just… not good enough. No matter how hard I try, it's like I'm missing something."
Alisha's smile softened, and for a moment, the teasing was gone. "You think heroes just wake up great? No. They start from the bottom, just like everyone else."
She walked past him, then turned back. "I'm going to help you. You're not doing this alone. But you need to listen, and follow my lead. No one can do it alone, not even me."
Eric looked at her in confusion, but before he could ask, she continued.
"Meet me at midnight."
---
That night, as the clock struck twelve, Eric quietly made his way to the pitch. The moon hung high, casting silver light over the empty field. He wasn't sure what to expect, but the anticipation made his heart race.
When he arrived, Alisha was already there, her figure a shadow against the backdrop of the lights. She didn't say anything at first, only gestured for him to follow her to a corner of the field, away from the usual training zones.
"Now listen up," she said, pulling out a ball from behind her back. "I'm going to teach you something no one else knows. Something that will make you unstoppable."
---
The next few days were a blur of intense practice. By day, Eric trained alongside the Kelana Warriors FC players, repeating the drills he had failed so miserably at before. Each mistake stung, but now there was a fire in him.
By night, Alisha would show him different techniques—subtle things. How to control the ball better, how to read the game from a different angle. How to move with more precision, how to be unpredictable, how to use his body in ways he had never imagined.
It was exhausting. Eric could feel the weight of the days on his shoulders. He was barely sleeping, his body constantly in pain from the relentless training. But every morning, he showed up. Every night, he pushed himself harder.
"You're doing well," Alisha would say every time he made progress, though her voice was always calm, almost casual.
But when he struggled, when his mind screamed at him to give up, Alisha's words echoed in his mind:
"A hero always starts from the bottom."
That phrase became his mantra. Every time he felt his resolve weaken, he repeated it silently, reminding himself that this pain, this struggle, was part of his journey.
---
The pressure was mounting. He could feel it in every fiber of his being—he had to make it. He couldn't afford to fail, not now. His body was worn out, his mind exhausted, but he couldn't stop.
One night, after another intense practice with Alisha, he found himself collapsed on the grass, staring up at the stars.
"Alisha," he breathed, his voice shaky. "What if I can't do it?"
Alisha was sitting beside him, her eyes gazing out over the field. She didn't look at him immediately, but when she did, her expression was soft, yet full of determination.
"Eric… heroes start from the bottom, remember?" She leaned over slightly, her voice low but firm. "But heroes never quit. They keep going. No matter how hard it gets."
Eric closed his eyes, the weight of her words sinking in. He could feel his resolve hardening.
"I'll be the best," he whispered, a promise to himself and to her. "I won't give up. I'll be the best."
Alisha smiled. "I know you will."
---
As the days continued, Eric's progress became undeniable. He was faster, more controlled, more confident. The hard work, the sleepless nights, the constant struggle—it was all paying off.
And he knew that no matter what happened, he would never forget the promise he made to himself.
---
That night, after a tiring day of training...
Eric was still on the field, sweating, but his eyes remained full of determination. The sports lights illuminated the field, now almost empty.
But from the side, a voice called out.
"Why aren't you heading home yet?"
Eric turned around. There, stood Coach Alisha — calm, in her sports jacket, a clipboard in hand as usual.
"Coach Alisha?"
"If you're still here, I take it you're willing to learn more," she said, walking toward him.
Eric stood upright, unsure whether he should be excited or afraid.
Alisha tossed the ball toward him. "I want to teach you a technique. But it's not an ordinary technique."
Eric caught the ball, hesitating. "What technique, coach?"
"A mantra."
Eric looked confused. "A mantra? This is football, not a magic class."
Alisha just smiled faintly. "A mantra isn't about magic. It's about 'charm.' A movement that makes people freeze, mesmerized. A move that makes you unforgettable."
She walked closer and placed a hand on Eric's shoulder. "If you want to be an extraordinary player, you need more than just speed and powerful kicks. You need style. Charisma. You need... your own mantra."
Eric lowered his gaze for a moment, then lifted it again. His eyes gleamed with a new resolve.
"Coach... I want to learn."
---
A few days passed...
During the day — Eric trained with the main team of Kelana Warriors FC. Perfecting the basics, enduring the mental burden of being an unrecognized player.
At night — he returned to the field, just him and Coach Alisha. Learning the mantra. Subtle movements, body control, techniques that blended discipline and art.
And when he was about to give up, Alisha's voice pierced through again:
> "Heroes... they usually start from the bottom, right?"
Eric clenched the ball in his hands. His breath was heavy. But his heart was firm.
> "I promise, Coach. I'll be the best player you've ever trained."
---
To be continued...