Dawit Mehari stood in the cool Rotterdam morning, the early light casting long shadows across the quiet streets. His breath was steady, but his heart pounded in anticipation. As he walked toward Alexandria '66's training grounds, memories of his past life threatened to pull him back, old regrets, failures, moments he had let slip through his fingers. But this time, he was different. This time, he had purpose.
The club's facilities hadn't changed much since he had last been here. The grass was patchy, the field markings barely visible, and the goals looked as if they had endured years of wear. It wasn't like Feyenoord's De Kuip, not the glamorous pitches of the professional world. But none of that mattered. What mattered was what he did here.
A few players were already jogging around the field. Some familiar faces, some new. To them, he was just another teenager trying to prove himself. They had no idea who he really was.
Dawit took a deep breath and began his jog. The first few steps felt off. His brain knew how a professional should move, but his body was still adjusting. The motion felt unnatural, like an engine starting after years of rust. But he pushed forward.
The first kilometer was fine. His breathing was steady. But by the second kilometer, he felt the strain. His muscles burned, his lungs struggled. His mind screamed at him to slow down, but he ignored it. No shortcuts. No excuses. Not this time. By the end of the three kilometers, he was drenched in sweat, his shirt sticking to his skin. He bent over, catching his breath, as a new notification appeared before his eyes.
+10 XP – Jog Completed.
Amanuel's voice returned. "Your stamina will improve as you continue training. Pain is temporary, growth is permanent."
Dawit chuckled. The system really knew how to keep him motivated. But jogging was just the start.
Next was passing. Fifty short passes. He lined up with a teammate, passing with precision. The first pass was too weak. The second was too slow. The third was slightly off target.
Dawit clenched his jaw. He could feel the disconnect between his mind and his body. He knew how these passes should feel, but his sixteen-year-old legs lacked the precision he had once developed over decades. But he refused to accept mediocrity.
Twenty passes in, the rhythm was improving. Thirty passes, the technique sharpened. Fifty passes later, the ball moved exactly as he wanted.
+5 XP – Passing Drill Completed.
Dawit wiped sweat from his forehead, grinning. He was learning his body all over again, adapting to the reality that skill wasn't enough. He had to rebuild everything from the ground up.
Next was dribbling. His feet moved naturally over the ball. At first, his touches were clumsy, but soon, they became controlled. The cones blurred past him, each movement more deliberate.
+7 XP – Dribbling Drill Completed.
His heart pounded. He wasn't just training. He was progressing.
Stretching was next. Ten minutes. It was dull, routine, but Dawit knew how crucial it was. His past self had ignored recovery, ignored his body's warning signs. That mistake had cost him everything. He focused on his breathing, feeling the tension in his muscles loosen as he held each stretch.
+3 XP – Stretching Routine Completed.
Finally came wall passes. The old brick wall behind the training ground had always been his favorite tool for refining first touches. He had one hundred touches to complete. The first few bounced awkwardly, but then his rhythm settled. He adjusted, refined, controlled.
+10 XP – Wall Passes Completed.
Dawit stood there, breathing heavily, realizing something profound. This was working. He was improving. For the first time in years, he wasn't dreaming about greatness. He was chasing it.
As he sat on the bench, catching his breath, a final notification appeared.
Daily Training Complete. XP Gained: +30. Talent Coins Earned: +5.
Achievement Unlocked: The Grind Begins. Bonus Reward: Skillbook – Ball Control (E Grade).
Dawit exhaled slowly. He stared at his hands, flexing his fingers, feeling the sweat cooling against his skin. He had spent years mourning his wasted potential, drowning himself in regret and alcohol.
But now, he was climbing out of that abyss.
And this time, he wouldn't stop.
Tomorrow, the grind would continue.
And soon, the real test would come. His first match back.
Dawit sat on the grass, sweat clinging to his skin. His muscles were sore, his breathing uneven, but the sensation of exhaustion felt right. His body had gone through an entire day's work, pushing past the limits of what he thought possible.
In his past life, he had convinced himself that talent was enough. That effort was secondary. And that idea had destroyed him. Talent alone had never been enough for the greats—it was the obsession, the constant push forward, the hunger to improve.
He pulled his shirt away from his chest, feeling the cool air settle on his damp skin. He checked his notifications again.
Daily Training Complete. XP Gained: +30. Talent Coins Earned: +5.
Achievement Unlocked: The Grind Begins. Bonus Reward: Skillbook – Ball Control (E Grade).
His progress was small, but he could feel it building.
For the first time since waking up in his younger body, his goal felt tangible.
He wasn't just playing football he was earning his place in it.
The sun dipped lower as the last players left the field. Dawit stayed behind, staring at the goalpost, thinking back to all the games he had played, the moments where he had let his frustration get the best of him. The missed opportunities. The wasted time.
Not again.
He picked up the ball and lined up a few final shots. There was no one left to watch, no pressure, just him and the game. He took a deep breath, focused on his positioning, and struck the ball cleanly into the top corner.
Amanuel's voice whispered.
+5 XP – Additional Training Bonus.
Dawit let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
This system was always watching, always tracking. But this time, he didn't mind.
Because it was pushing him toward something greater.
That night, Dawit lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. The exhaustion was real, but his mind refused to rest.
The thought of what was coming kept him wide awake.
Tomorrow, he would take his first step onto the field, not just as Dawit Mehari the amateur, but as the man who had come back from failure to rewrite his future.
And he wouldn't waste it.