The Greatest Of All Time

by Stayrr

Dive into a novel about the rise of a legendary sportsman. Follow Zachary Bemba on his journey to become the G.O.A.T (Greatest Of All Time) in the soccer world. He travels back to a time in his past where opportunity abounds. Access to a system capable of propelling him to greater heights is just the icing on the cake. From a nobody born in one of the poorest and most remote pla

2. 11

Read The Greatest of all Time Chapter 11 - The Crucial Day II online for free - AllNovelFull

A few minutes to 9:00 am.

Coach Mande looked at his watch before signaling for the teams to take their positions. All the players on the pitch, including Zachary, were waiting for his whistle to kick-off the game. It was the moment of truth that would define their destinies. Everyone was tense.

Coach Mande had chosen the red-team to kick off the game. Emanuel Luboya and Beni Badibanga were already standing in the center circle next to the ball.

Most of the scouts had already begun abandoning their seats in the stands. They had started moving closer to the touchline to get a better view of the proceedings. Most were adjusting their cameras to face the field to capture the moments of the match.

Coach Mande looked at his watch again before looking towards Damata on the sideline. The latter nodded.

FWEEEEEEE!*

Kick-off!

Emanuel passed the ball to Beni Badibanga and rushed forward into the other half without looking back.

"Beni, pass here," Zachary called out to Beni after seeing him looking around for a teammate to pass the ball. He was unmarked and ready to receive the ball. The latter ignored him and kicked it towards Tony Majembe in the left-wing.

That was when Edo Kayembe, the right-winger of the team in green bibs, came sliding in with a tackle. He won the ball fair and square and instantly hammered it to Wagaluka Francis in the midfield.

Wagaluka beautifully controlled the ball and skipped past Beni who was already tightly marking him.

He looked up and kicked the ball high, sending a long pass towards the swift Stephen Mangala who was rushing towards the box in the red team's half.

Zachary and his teammates did not even react as Mangala received the ball just outside the 18-yard-box. Only Fredric Luamba stood between him and the goalkeeper.

Without looking up, he drilled a powerful shot towards the bottom left corner, forcing Samuel Baraka to pull off a brilliant save. The green team had a corner.

The red team was already under pressure due to Beni Badibanga's poor judgment in the first minute. He had chosen to pass to Tony, who was tightly marked by an opponent, instead of Zachary. As a result, the red team had lost the ball and almost conceded a goal.

"Beni," Zachary called out to the number-9. "Why did you not pass to me? He intoned as they ran back to their half to defend against the corner.

"Piss off," the striker scowled. "I'll play my game, and you play yours. Don't get in my way." He added before increasing his pace.

"Young kids." Zachary sighed.

The green team took the corner quickly, but nothing came of it.

For the next ten minutes, the game continued in favor of the green team. The boys in green dominated the midfield and had the majority of the ball possession.

Both Wagaluka and Paul-José Mpoku had already set Mangala loose three times in the red team's penalty box. Their deadly through balls could have easily turned into goals if not for the brilliant performance of Baraka, the goalkeeper.

Zachary already had a clear picture of what was wrong with his red team. His high game-intelligence enabled him to deduce that some of the players were choosing to isolate him. They were not giving him any passes. Since he was the midfielder responsible for building up all the attacks, his teammates' behavior was proving costly.

In his previous life, he had faced similar isolation during matches in soccer trials. Such matches were extremely competitive making it difficult for players to show off their skills. The main reason for this was the fact that players on the same team were still competing with each other. They all sought the attention of the scouts or coaches in attendance. Players would be less inclined to pass the ball to teammates who they viewed as competition. But what surprised Zachary was the appearance of such behavior in trials involving teenagers.

[Where is the spirit of sportsmanship?] He wondered.

His red team was already facing another attacking threat from Mangala and his green team. Zachary had resolved to move further back and counter the pressure mounted by the opponents.

But in the twenty-fifth minute of the first half, Chris Luyinda made a rough challenge on the ferocious Edo Kayembe at the right side out of the penalty box. Coach Mande blew his whistle for a foul and awarded a free-kick to the green team.

"What are all of you doing over there?" Luyinda shouted at his teammates. "Put up a wall and defend."

The red team players did not mind Luyinda's rudeness and quietly put up a wall to defend the free-kick. Even Zachary, who had been denied any passes since the match began, joined the wall of players.

Coach Mande blew the whistle, signaling the green team to take the free-kick.

Edo Kayembe, the number-7, sent a superb cross into the box where Mangala was lurking. The boy prodigy latched on to it, and from around the penalty spot, he planted a header past Samuel Baraka. The ball bounced off the bottom of the left post before sliding into the back of the net. Mangala had displayed his eye for the goal.

The score was 1:0.

Zachary stood with his arms akimbo, watching the others. The red players all had dejected expressions with their shoulders slumped. He saw some of the scouts on the sidelines nodding to themselves as they eyed Mangala.

[So this is how Mangala got to Europe in my previous life.] Zachary sighed. He was sure that the boy would be recruited by one of the academies after the match. He was about to say some encouraging words to his teammates but was interrupted by Chris Luyinda.

"You useless joke of an attacking midfielder," he intoned, pointing his forefinger at Bemba. "They have taken over the whole midfield! What're you doing?" He queried.

"Our strikers don't have even a single chance at goal. Why are the coaches not substituting an idiot like you?" He continued.

"Watch it, man," Zachary intoned, moving closer to face off with Luyinda. "You haven't been passing the ball to me. What do you expect me to do?" He questioned angrily.

FWEEEEEE!*

As their argument was beginning to pick up, Coach Mande blew his whistle.

"Anything the problem," he asked, running towards them.

"No." Both Zachary and Luyinda responded at the same time. They jumped away from each other like scared rabbits that had seen a lion.

"Both of you! Go to the bench and cool down." Coach Mande bellowed, creasing his brows. "Hurry up. We need to give a chance to those who take the trials seriously."

"One has been substituted," Kristin observed as she placed down her camera. "Are you sure that Zachary is a talent? He has had zero impact on the match, so far!" She frowned.

"I beg to defer," the old man smiled, sitting back down. Unlike the other scouts who had moved to the tracks, they were still seated within the pavilion.

"Have you noticed that the other players on his team have been isolating him?" The grandpa asked.

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"In trial matches, players will only isolate their teammates in two scenarios," the grandpa opined. "One is when the player is too good and able to overshadow the others and reduce their chances of catching a scout's eye. The other is when the player lacks skills and will waste the team's chances."

"My dear Kristin," the grandpa smiled. "Under which category do you think Zachary falls?" He asked.

Kristin couldn't help but raise her camera to observe the player who was ambling dejectedly out of the pitch. He was a bit buff and tall for his age, close to five-nine by her estimations.

His crew-cut hair that was midnight black matched his dark brown eyes, framed by graceful dark brows. He had prominent cheekbones, a well-defined chin, and a nose that made him slightly handsome. His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. Kristin observed that his skin was a lighter shade of chocolate brown. She thought that he would grow up into a handsome man in the future. But could he also grow into a talented player? That was the question that occupied her mind.

"I can't tell at the moment," she replied. "I will evaluate Zachary's talent only when he performs on the pitch." She added, gently placing down her camera.

"We won't be able to snatch the Mangala boy from the French clubs," the old man stated. "They have deeper coffers than our tiny Norwegian clubs. So, we should start looking at the players they fail to notice."

"Like Zachary and Paul?" Kristin queried, opening the file once again.

"Yes, like them," the old man smiled. "It's good for us that Zachary isn't performing well. Otherwise, he would also be whisked away."

"You're an evil old man," Kristin jested, smiling.

"Gotta be to succeed in this business," the grandpa chortled before focusing on the match once again.

Zachary's moved back to the sidelines with shoulders slumped and his eyes cast down in a mournful gaze. His mouth was set in a semi-pout. He imagined himself bashing the face of Luyinda when he replayed the moment when Coach Mande had sent him off the pitch. He felt distraught. There was nothing left to feel, nothing left to hope for, nothing left but the void that enveloped his mind in swirling blackness. Everything he had worked so hard to achieve was about to go up in smoke.

He dejectedly sat down on the sidelines.

[Why did I have to square off with Luyinda on such a day?]

[Why? Why?]

Before the match, he thought that he was already in perfect control of his emotions, unlike in his previous life. But he had easily flared up after a slight provocation from Luyinda.

He heard the sounds of cheering and raised his head only to find that the boy prodigy Mangala had just scored another goal. It was 2:0 just before half time.

"DING"

The system interface popped up by its self.

G.O.A.T MISSIONS

#NEW MISSION: Lubumbashi soccer trials (serial missions)

Task 2: Help your red team clinch victory over the green team.

Task 3: Catch the eye of a soccer academy official or a club scout.

--

Rewards:

-Snooping tool to be unlocked (Will tell you everything about your opponent. Only related to soccer.)

--

Punishment in case of failure:

-The G.O.A.T system will go offline for a year.

--

Remarks: A G.O.A.T never gives up.

[What the F*k!?]

"How does it expect me to achieve all this when I have already been suspended from the game?"

Zachary diverted his attention and wallowed in depression until the half-time whistle sounded. He stayed slumped on the sidelines until he was called over by Coach Damata minutes later.

"How're you feeling?" The coach asked when Zachary arrived by his side.

"Like I want to dive into the River Congo with a stone tied to my back," Zachary smiled ruefully.

"Hahaha," Damata laughed, attracting a few gazes from the scouts nearby. "That is so subtle. You should never think like that. There are various paths one can take to achieve something." He advised.

Zachary nodded. He glanced towards the pitch and noticed that the second half had already started. The score was still 2:0.

But Zachary was sure that the red team would concede more goals very soon. The boys in green, especially Mangala, Kayembe, and Wagaluka, were too ferocious. They were still pressuring their opponents in red within their half. Their tiki-taka football was too fast for Kasongo and the others to compete.

"The red team players have lost all motivation," Coach Damata commented nonchalantly. "You and Luyinda are the major cause of this," he added.

"I'm sorry, coach," Zachary pleaded.

"You know that temperament is one of the most important attributes of a sportsman. You will get nowhere if you can't rain in your emotions." Damata lectured.

Zachary waited silently. He noticed that one of the other coaches was also talking to Luyinda.

[Will they allow us back in?] His mood lifted. He would perform his best even if he was given just some fifteen minutes of match time. He just wanted to leave without regrets.

The next words of the coach instantly kicked him out of hell into heaven.

"I'll be giving you one more chance to impress the scouts," Coach Damata smiled. "Due to your previous behavior, many of them will shun you. But you never know. There may be one among them who might like the way you play." He added.

"Thank you, coach, for the opportunity," he bowed ceremoniously.

"Talk with Luyinda first. You two are teammates now and also the best midfielders the red team has. If you don't sort out your issues, both of you will never succeed." The coach advised.

"Okay, Coach," he said meekly. To succeed, he would do anything. Talking to the idiot was just a minor inconvenience compared to losing everything.

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"Are you going back on the field too?" Luyinda asked once Zachary approached him. He had just finished his chat with the other coach. They were standing on the touchline, waiting to re-enter the pitch.

"What do you think?" Zachary asked, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"Shit," Luyinda cursed. "I can't believe I'm stuck with you today of all days," he snorted.

"Why were you isolating me during the game?" Zachary asked directly, locking eyes with the defensive midfielder. He wanted to resolve the conflict between them before they rejoined the match.

"Eh!" Surprise registered on Luyinda's face. It seemed he hadn't expected that question.

"I asked," Zachary emphasized. "Why were you not passing to me during the first half? We are in a trial match, not some backyard soccer."

"You were not creating any space to receive the passes," Luyinda stammered, taking a few steps away from Zachary.

"Seriously. What about that time when I was on your left with no green players around?" Zachary pointed out. He had been creating space for himself to receive the ball, but Luyinda always opted for long balls that cost the red team possession.

"Okay, okay.

Stop bothering me." Luyinda gibbered. He looked around to see if any of the coaches were looking at them. He surrendered when he noticed that Coach Damata's attention was on them.

"I'll pass to you when we are back in. But this doesn't mean we're friends. God! I hope this is the last time we play on the same team." He whispered.

[What did I ever do to him?] Zachary wondered but said, "Suit yourself. As long as you pass me the ball, everything will be fine. Remember, we have less than twenty minutes to turn this around." He emphasized.

Luyinda did not reply. He continued silently observing the match.

Zachary did not bother him anymore. His main goal was to impress scouts not making friends.

A minute later, Coach Mande blew the whistle and invited them back into the pitch.

"Luyinda," Zachary called out to the number-6. "Don't forget your promise," he intoned before jogging confidently into the pitch. Luyinda nodded and followed.

"You're back," Kasongo ran to him excitedly as soon as he positioned himself in the center circle.

"Kasongo," Zachary bumped fists with the short winger. "We need to win this game to have any chance of impressing the scouts. So, be sharp. Go back to your number and wait for my passes."

"Okay," Kasongo replied and ran back to the right-wing. He could see the seriousness on Zachary's face and simply did as instructed.

Zachary started observing the positioning of every player on the pitch. The body language of both his opponents and teammates was captured in great detail in his mind.

Samuel Baraka, the goalkeeper of the red team, was still fetching the ball to restart gameplay. The ball had gone outside after Kayembe missed a shot on goal.

In the other half, he noticed that the face of Emanuel Luboya, his team's striker, still glinted with a hunger for the game. He was eagerly waiting for the ball deep in the green team's half. The striker hadn't given up yet. Zachary was relieved.

For the first time that day, he noted that there were gaps in the opponent's formation. He could see a lot of space between the green team's midfield and defenders that could potentially be exploited by his team. His A spatial awareness was already doing wonders.

[The opponents have relaxed. Let's play.] Zachary smiled. He turned around to receive the ball from the goalkeeper.

Baraka quickly took the goal kick. He whipped the ball towards Beni Badibanga deep in the green team's half. Nike Kabanga, the number-5 of the green team, jumped high in the air and headed the ball back to the other half. He had won a header against Beni, the number-9 in red, once again.

Luyinda controlled the ball on his chest and immediately passed it to Zachary without even looking up.

Zachary sighed in relief when he saw the ball rolling towards him. He was more confident as his isolation from his teammates seemed to have come to an end.

He controlled the ball beautifully with his left foot before turning and dashing towards the green team's half. He had already lost Francis Wagaluka, the player responsible for marking him. He had a few yards to run freely with the ball since no one was close to him.

Zachary sprinted at his fastest speed and penetrated deep into the opponent's half in just seconds. As he moved with the ball, he looked towards Emanuel Luboya, the center forward, dashing towards the right side of the opponent's 18-yard-box. He seemed to be drawing the attention of the defenders in green away from Beni on the right.

On looking closer, Zachary noticed two shadows flash out of the striker's body. One continued running towards the right side of the goal while the second headed to the left. Zachary was perplexed.

However, he had no time to deliberate so he quickly whipped the ball towards the second shadow that had rushed out of the tall striker towards the left. That was the space the center-backs in green had neglected. Both Nike Kabanga and Samba Farouk were marking Beni Babidanga tightly on the right side.

Zachary hoped the forwards would interpret his intentions and make use of the pass. He knew this had a low chance of happening since the strikers had never trained or played with him until that day.

But surprisingly, he noticed that Emanuel Luboya had diverted his running route the moment Zachary released the looped pass over the defenders. Luboya sprinted with great vigor towards the left side of the goal. He followed in the exact footsteps of the shadow that had appeared to flash out of his body.

The striker collected the pass inside the box and unleashed a shot that was brilliantly blocked by an outstretched leg of Jackson Lunanga, the goalkeeper. The referee signaled to the corner flag.

The red team had earned their first attempt on goal for the day. Luboya was holding his head between his hands in regret at having missed a goal-scoring opportunity.

[The shadows rushing out of Luboya must have been a manifestation of the Zinedine-Visual-Juju.] Zachary speculated.

"That was a good ball," Lunanga commented as Zachary arrived in the green team's penalty box to attack the corner ball.

"Don't worry about the missed opportunity," Zachary consoled the striker. "I'll send you more balls like those. Make sure you score." He smiled, patting the tall guy's back.

"I say you won't get any more opportunities to do anything. I'll be marking you." A new voice sounded from behind them. Zachary turned back only to find Mangala standing behind him, with arms akimbo. The shady smile on his pristine face made him appear all too arrogant, like a Casanova.

Zachary frowned but ignored the lanky boy. He didn't want a conflict with anyone else that day. He had already learned his lesson. The corner-kick that Kasongo was about to take was the only thing on his mind.

Suddenly, he had another vision.

A shadow in the shape of a ball came floating towards the box from the corner flag. It was headed away by a different shadow from one of the opposing players and split into three balls. Two of them zoomed towards the right and left sides, outside of the box. However, the last went right through the middle.

[Another Zinedine-Visual-Juju vision.]

Zachary was excited as he noticed that Kasongo was finally taking the corner.

He stealthily started moving away from Mangala who was marking him. When the ball was close to reaching its highest point, he dashed outside the eighteen-yard-box. He positioned himself before the arc and waited for the ball. He had put his chances on the ball shadow passing through the center in the Zinedine-Visual-Juju.

Mangala first frowned when he noticed his actions. However, he just smiled and ignored Zachary after seeing the floating ball from the corner. Kasongo had delivered an imprecise corner kick that was easily headed away by Wagaluka.

Zachary, stationed just outside the box, noticed the ball flying towards him.

[BINGO!] He thought. He had won the bet on where the ball would be heading.

He focused on the incoming ball and unleashed a missile of a shot towards the goal. He had caught the ball on the volley with the outside of his boot.

"BAM!"

The ball surprised everyone, including the goalkeeper. The long-range shot whooshed towards the top-right corner of the goalposts, unobstructed. 2:1. The red team had pulled one back.

The tables were beginning to turn.

Zachary did not celebrate his goal. He ran and picked the ball from the green team's net and returned it to the center circle of the pitch. Only fifteen minutes were remaining till the end of the match. He couldn't spare time for pointless celebrations. He would lose a lot if he didn't win this match.

Coach Mande blew the whistle and restarted the game.

For the next five minutes, the red team dominated the game. The return of Zachary and Luyinda had boosted their strength.

The two tackled, intercepted, and released passes to the strikers every few minutes. They were dominating the midfield.

Mangala tried to mark Zachary but failed. He was an agile player, used to running and dribbling past defenders. He couldn't manage a physical confrontation in the midfield with Zachary who was tall and muscular. So, he returned to his number-9 position, defeated after a few minutes of trying.

On the other hand, Zachary continued seeing shadows flashing across the pitch every once in a while. Some came from balls and others from players. He had confirmed that they were manifestations of some sort of predictive ability granted by the Zinedine-Visual-Juju. They increased his spatial awareness whenever he passed and intercepted balls during the match. They had helped him trace the ball's trajectory when he scored the goal.

However, there were also chances of making a wrong prediction. Zachary had found this out after distributing a pass to Kasongo making a run into the box. The real Kasongo headed in a different direction and followed the route taken by another one of his shadows. This was the case even after factoring in the positioning of the opponents and his teammates.

In the twentieth minute of the second half, the green team managed to find their rhythm once again. Kayembe, the winger, delivered a teasing cross into the box of the red team.

The cross found Mangala, who controlled it well and lashed the ball towards the bottom right corner. Samuel Baraka, the goalkeeper, was alert and pulled off a brilliant diving save. Coach Mande blew his whistle and awarded the green team a corner kick.

Mangala and his teammates had a chance to widen the lead. All the players of the red team, including the strikers, rushed back to their box to defend. The green team's defenders followed them.

Zachary observed their actions before calling Kasongo over. He whispered a few instructions in his ear before dismissing him back to the edge of the box.

The keeper, Baraka, defended the corner ball that had come in low. He punched it towards the sidelines where Zachary had been waiting.

Zachary had successfully predicted where the ball would end up and moved into position in advance. He controlled the ball beautifully and sprinted off towards the opponent's half at his best speed. Francis Wagaluka came to intercept with a sliding tackle. Zachary skipped over it and passed the ball to Kasongo, running in sync with him through the middle of the pitch.

The counterattack was on.

Edo Kayembe used his swift pace to catch up with Kasongo and pulled on his shirt. He intended to commit a professional foul and stop the counterattack. However, Kasongo did not falter. He stayed firm on his feet until he hammered the ball towards Zachary, already into the opponent's half and close to the touchline. There were no players between him and the goalkeeper. All the defenders were still running from the opposite half.

Coach Mande, the referee, waved an advantage-play even after Kayembe pulled Kasongo to the ground.

Zachary produced a stunning solo run from the middle of the pitch to the penalty area. He lashed the ball into the bottom left corner, giving Jackson Lunanga, the keeper, no chance. Goal.

With eight minutes to go, the score was level at 2:2.

"You were right, grandpa," Kristin begun. "Zachary is all over the pitch now. His ability to control the game and pass the ball is simply unmatched. Every scout will want a playmaker like him." Kristin commented dejectedly. She sighed while watching the players in red bibs celebrating quickly and rushing back to their half. They seemed eager to resume the match.

The grandpa remained silent with his eyes fixed on the pitch.

"Grandpa," Kristin crooned, pocking the old man's shoulder with her slender finger.

"I hear you, Kristin," the old man replied. He turned to face his granddaughter.

"We have to get him by all means," He intoned. "I'll talk to the coach who's a friend of mine. Don't worry."

"Why does your file say that he's more of a slow-paced player who's good at doing the team's dirty work," Kristin inquired, frowning. She opened the player file for the umpteenth time that day.

"You're asking me! Who should I ask?" The grandpa spread out his arms.

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The match resumed after Coach Mande blew the whistle.

Zachary and his teammates in red marked the forwards of the green team immediately after gameplay resumed. The midfielders in green bibs like Wagaluka and Mpoku had no option but to pass the ball back to their defenders.

Zachary's red team was pressing their opponents within their half.

At some point, droplets of rain had started falling from the sky. Most of the scouts returned to the pavilion to find shelter from the drizzle. But, a few remained close to the pitch, intently watching the match.

Coach Damata, on the sideline, was speaking with Mr. Benard Christophe, the head scout of FC Nantes Youth Academy. He was responsible for deciding the results of the ADTA trials in Lubumbashi. The other French officials in the delegation had merely come to earn some per diem and sightsee in Africa. Only a few like Mr. Benard were intently watching out for young potential recruits in the trials.

"That Mangala boy is good," Christophe began. "As you mentioned before, his dribbling and finishing skills are impeccable," he added, his eyes never leaving the pitch. He didn't seem to mind the rain one bit.

Stephen Mangala had just dribbled past Awax Bondeko, the right-back of the red team. He dashed into the box and unleashed a low shot which was saved by Baraka, the keeper. The boy prodigy seemed to be the only one still alive on the green team.

Coach Damata creased his brows before replying. "What about the Zachary boy. He is the tall guy in the number-8 position of the red team." He pointed towards Bemba's position on the pitch.

Christophe frowned, looking towards Zachary. "I see that he's a skilled distributor of the ball," he observed. "But we already have many such boys at the academy. His imposing physique is an advantage over those at the same age. What do you think will happen in the future when the others mature into stronger players?" He queried.

"I choose to go with the Mangala boy. Kayembe, the winger of the green team, is also an option." He intoned.

"Our scouts have been observing Zachary since he was twelve, and I assure you that he's a talented young man," Coach Damata argued. "His game intelligence is at another level. That, coupled with his strong body, makes him a good product to shape into a professional center-back or a midfielder."

Damata, as a local coach, wanted to see several young Congolese talents joining the French youth academies. That way, DR Congo would perform better in future international competitions.

"My dear coach," Christophe said, squinting up at the African in the slight drizzle. Damata knew that his efforts to forward the young talent to the Nantes Academy had met a roadblock.

"Do you doubt my vision? Do you think we would be here in this backwater if it wasn't for the sponsorship from the ADTA?" Christophe smirked.

"We promised to select about four players from the trials. Be satisfied with that. We have gathered enough information about the Zachary boy to make a decision." The left side of his red lip tugged upwards, creating a sort of sinister smirk on his aged face.

Damata remained silent for a while, watching the proceedings of the match before asking, "Mr. Benard, aren't you watching the match?" Damata questioned, pointing towards the pitch.

Zachary had just released another through pass to Emanuel Luboya. The tall striker braced himself and unleashed a mid-range shot that went just over the crossbar. The green team had a goal kick.

"We know that your boy had his left foot wasted in an accident," Mr. Benard intoned, gently shaking his head.

"What?" Coach Damata frowned. He had heard about Zachary's accident from one of the TP Mazembe scouts. But, it didn't seem to be anything serious. The French scout's focus on such an unimportant detail bugged him.

"We wouldn't take anyone prone to injuries, no matter how talented they are. The boy having his ankle ligaments torn ended his path to becoming a professional soccer player." Mr. Benard stated.

"Can't you give him a chance by letting him take a medical?" Damata pleaded. "Players do get hurt, but they heal and return to the pitch."

"Enough," Christophe frowned. "We have already done enough background investigations to decide his fate. We even went to the CMC community hospital, where the boy was formerly admitted after his accident, to verify the details. From the x-rays, we all concluded that his left foot is a goner." The scout added before focusing his attention back on the match.

"You African coaches are all the same," Coach Damata heard him mumble in a voice just enough for him to discern. "You never try to check the background information about the players. All you do is sign finished products when they play a good game or show some skill in one of your trials. You never research chronic injuries, background, family history, or how these factors might affect the career of a player. All you do is end up wasting valuable resources on players that will never make it. That is a weakness of the African soccer talent development system." The scout sighed, shaking his head.

"We do have players who have recovered from such injuries even at the international level," Damata argued.

"That is the case of one time in a million," Christophe interrupted. "Those are usually rich players with access to the best doctors in the world. Their clubs give them access to the right medical treatment immediately after they get injured. What did you do for a potential young talent after he suffered an injury? You left him to tend to his wounds without any support in a hospital." Christophe scowled, his voice turning dramatic towards the end.

He spread out his arms and asked, "Coach Damata, what did you expect to happen?"

A grin spread over his face, wide and open, showing his over-whitened teeth. At that moment, his motives were laid bare; he was a mocker, one who enjoyed tormenting others. That was Damata's conclusion.

He left the scout to his own devices and started thinking about how to help the boy.

Zachary was unaware of the discussion taking place between the coach and the scout. The only thing on his mind was winning the game.

It was still a stalemate. Two minutes remained to the end of the game, with the score still 2:2.

Both Mpoku and Wagaluka were double-teaming Zachary to stop him from distributing any passes to the red strikers and wingers.

He had been giving the forwards, Luboya and Beni, several deadly through passes. However, they had failed to convert them into goals.

[I cannot lose right now.] He resolved.

The others were all about individual performance and did not care much about the result of the game. They only wanted to catch the attention of the scouts, nothing more. But, Zachary had much more to lose since the system would go offline for a year if he lost the match. He could not afford to pay that price.

He started surveying the pitch for any openings he could exploit. The ball was still being passed around by the defenders of his team in red bibs, steadily advancing towards the centerline. He turned towards the opponent's half and instantly noticed something he had neglected.

[Maybe I can try that.]

He grinned before signaling to Kasongo and the strikers to rush to the other half.

Like a rugby player, he feigned forward movement but reversed directions and lost the two bodyguards (Wagaluka and Mpoku) that had been shadowing him for more than five minutes. They were reluctant to follow since he was running back to his half. They became even more confused when they saw the strikers and wingers jogging towards their goal, in the opposite direction.

"Here, pass here!" Zachary hollered out to Luyinda who had just received the ball.

Luyinda stayed true to his promise and instantly kicked the ball towards him. But, Wagaluka was on his heels right away, tackling him and trying to win the ball.

Zachary made a swift turn, pulling the ball with his right leg, and spun past the midfielder. He then accelerated and dashed off into the opponent's half, dribbling past Mpoku and Edo Kayembe along the way. Zachary found himself in space with no one marking him before stepping past the center circle and penetrating the other half. He noticed that the forwards in red, marked by the green team's defenders, were eagerly awaiting his pass just outside the green team's 18-yard-box.

"Mark him, tackle him," Zachary thought he heard Mangala yelling from behind him as he continued running with the ball. However, he ignored everything behind him and focused on the goalkeeper. Zachary had noticed that Jackson Lunanga tended to stray away from his line whenever the ball was at a distance from him. He intended to exploit that error.

From forty-five yards away, Zachary struck with his right leg, unleashing the ball on an arching path towards the goal.

[Please go in.] He prayed.

Everyone in the stadium watched the ball zoom over the other players towards the goal. They sighed at the impatience of the young player probably brought about by the approaching end of the match.

However, not everyone shared similar thoughts. Lunanga, the keeper of the green team, had started running back towards his goalposts the moment Zachary hit the ball. But, he could not make it in time. The ball floated over his bare head, into the back of the net: 3:2.

The red team had clinched a lead for the first time that day.

The whole stadium was silent.

The spectators turned white as chalk as their faces froze in expressions of stunned surprise. Although they were staring straight at Zachary, they appeared not to notice him at all.

"Shit!" Wagaluka swore from behind him. "What dog shit luck does Bemba have today?" He mumbled.

The din soon returned to the stadium as the people finally reacted, oohing and aahing at the spectacular goal.

But on the sidelines, Christophe sighed. "What a pity. He would have grown into a good player." He shook his head and returned his attention to the match.

The goal seemed to have set off a spark in the green team's ranks. Mangala, Wagaluka, and Kayembe all attacked like there was no tomorrow for the next minute. However, Zachary's red team held out until the final whistle, with Baraka making two more spectacular saves.

3:2 was the final score.

"Zachary, man," Kasongo ran up to him after Coach Mande blew the whistle. "That was quite the show. There's no doubt you'll be selected by the scouts." He stated, smiling.

Baraka and some of his other teammates also came along and celebrated with him for a while. Even Luyinda bumped fists with him for the first time in their history, spanning two lives.

[This is soccer. A game that should build unity among teammates rather than hatred.] He smiled as he soaked in the praises from his teammates. He felt accomplished.

"Next time, I won't lose," a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

Zachary turned around and found the boy prodigy, Mangala, standing behind him. A smirk grew over his face like a lazy teacher's checkmark, the faded "red ink" stretching up into his dimple.

"Are you sure?" Zachary grinned.

"Yes."

"I'll be waiting."

Coach Damata hurried away from the touchline towards the dressing room right after the final whistle. He felt dejection wash over him when Zachary scored the third goal.

All his efforts at convincing Mr. Christophe Benard to give Zachary a chance had proven futile. A talented player was about to be neglected by a conservative scout due to an unverified latent injury.

He had to find another opportunity for the boy before things went wrong as they usually did in Congo. He could see Zachary becoming a pillar of the Leopards in international competitions a few years in the future.

"Excuse me, Coach Damata. Can we talk for a minute or two?" Damata heard a familiar hoarse but mellow voice from beside him. He turned back only to find an aged Caucasian man in a sunhat and a blonde girl standing behind him.

"Hahaha," Coach Damata laughed after seeing the Norwegian.

"Mr. Martin Stein, nice meeting you again," he said, extending his hand for a handshake. "I was about to come looking for you. I need a favor from you this time."

"Oh, same here," Mr. Stein smiled, shaking Damata's outstretched hand. "Can we talk in your office?" He said.

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"Stephen Mangala, Miché Mika, Edo Kayembe, and Samuel Baraka." Mr. Christophe Benard, the head scout of FC Nantes Youth Academy, closed his notebook. He had finished announcing the names of the four players selected for the French sports scholarship. "That'll be all. Good luck to the rest of you." He concluded.

"Eehh!" The rest of the players, including some of the coaches, exclaimed. They started stealing glances at Zachary who stood at the very back of the group. He had scored a hat-trick and played better than everyone else during the match. But, the scouts had left him out of the list of players heading to France.

However, everyone quickly forgot about the issue and returned their attention to Coach Damata who had returned to the center stage after the foreign scout left.

"Let's congratulate the four players who are leaving for France. They deserve to be applauded for their exceptional performance in today's game." Coach Damata intoned, smiling. He seemed to be in a good mood.

Most of the other players clapped half-heartedly. They were still lamenting the missed opportunity. However, a few had learned to accept rejection and failure. They were looking forward to the remaining days of the Lubumbashi trials. They still had the opportunity to impress scouts from the African teams looking for new talents.

"Okay people. That's the spirit." Coach Damata laughed. "I usually tell my students it is okay to fail. A lot of people are so afraid of failure that they skip trials like these. They end up joining the camp of those that don't think themselves capable of succeeding as professional soccer players." He paused, letting his gaze roam over all the young men gathered before him.

"You should be aware that many people attain their greatest success, just after their greatest failure. Not getting selected is merely a bump in your football career. Every failure in life is a stepping stone to greater heights. I am most proud of the blessings that God has bestowed upon me as a coach. He has given me the vision to see that you can still get back on your feet after falling. That belief has kept me going as a coach all my years."

"Will you lose all hope of achieving your dreams and join the failures after not being selected?" He asked. "Or, will you continue to pursue your dreams with newfound vigor after this momentary setback?"

Most of the young players responded positively to the inspirational words of the coach. They all longed to join professional teams and play soccer. Soccer was the only refuge in their war-torn nation.

The few that had looked dejected seemed to have gotten a new lease on life after hearing the coach's speech. They all had a glint in their eyes that indicated they had not given up.

"Then, I'm relieved." Coach Damata smiled. "You're dismissed for today. Come back tomorrow to continue the trials."

"Just remember, never give up."

Zachary remained standing at the back of the group even when the other players started dispersing. His world collapsed when the French scout announced the results. Pain circulated through his mind like waves on frigid sand.

[Why wasn't I selected? Was it because of my outburst during the first half?]

Several questions ran through his mind as he attempted to make sense of the scouts' decision. He could feel the eyes of the departing players on him. Some of them had pitiful expressions, whereas others looked on with mockery like their situation was any better. They seemed to have forgotten that they, too, had not been selected.

"Young man," he heard someone calling him from the side in a classic French accent that didn't belong in Africa. He turned around to find the head scout smiling at him.

"You're Zachary. Right?" Mr. Christophe Benard asked.

"Yes, that's me, sir," Zachary replied. He had no idea why the scout was initiating a conversation with him after leaving him out of the selection.

Zachary felt like punching the Frenchman in the face to relieve his mounting stress. However, he calmed himself after considering the repercussions. He didn't want to be blacklisted by all the scouts of the academies partaking in the Lubumbashi trials.

"I'll do you a favor, young man," the scout began solemnly. "With your injured foot, you'll never make it among the pros. Just give up and find something else to do before you injure yourself again. I hate to see a young man wallow in despair after investing all his time where he'll never succeed."

[Injured foot? Give up? Is this the reason for my not being on the list?] Zachary started connecting the dots. His mood lifted. His greatest fear had been being blacklisted by the international scouts due to his unsportsmanlike behavior in the first half. But the French teams only left him out due to a supposed injury. He couldn't help but smile ruefully.

"I have said all that can be said. Take care." Mr. Benard moved away and disappeared into the mass of scouts leaving the stadium.

[Did he come to tell me just that? What a busy buddy.] He scoffed.

"Zach!" Kasongo's voice called out to him. "What did he want? Were you selected?"

"No. Just telling me to give up on soccer." Zachary smiled, turning towards his new friend.

"Say what? Why?"

"He thinks I'm injured."

"Are you?" Kasongo frowned.

"Not at all. I'm as fit as a fiddle." Zachary smirked.

"Then ignore the idiot." Kasongo smiled, patting his shoulder. "We still have a chance tomorrow. I heard that scouts from Raja Casablanca and Orlando Pirates are also part of the delegation. So, don't worry. We'll be selected."

"I know." Zachary nodded. From the memories of his past life, he knew the Lubumbashi trials were far from over. A few more players would get a chance to join other foreign academies over the following few days. He simply had to perform his best to join their ranks.

"Are you really okay?" Kasongo asked after seeing him spacing out.

"I'm fine." Zachary sighed. He still felt some dejection at being overlooked. However, he understood he had to move on and prepare for the continuation of the trials the following day.

"Let's go. I'll help you select a hotel today."

"Great." Kasongo laughed, jumping up like a little kid. "I'll buy lunch," he said, patting Zachary's back.

They started trekking towards the gate of the stadium but were stopped by Coach Damata along the way.

"Thank God. I managed to catch up to you." The coach smiled as he approached them. He seemed to have run up to them since he was panting.

"I have good news," he said without giving them a chance to reply. "Kasongo, head over to Coach Mande. He'll explain a few things to you. Zachary, come with me. I want you to meet someone."

"I am guessing that one of the scouts must have taken a liking to you," Kasongo whispered before running away towards the pavilion.

"Oh." Zachary was excited. Hope bloomed inside him. He turned and followed the coach into the tunnel that led to the dressing rooms of the stadium.

They went through the dimly lit passage and reached Coach Damata's office at the far end of a corridor. The coach pushed the door open and invited him in.

On one of the wooden benches within, an aged man and a young blond girl sat, waiting quietly.

Zachary ignored the old fella. He couldn't take his eyes off the girl holding a camera from the moment he entered the office.

He had initially noticed the girl before the match as the delegation of scouts entered the stadium. He didn't pay much attention to her then since she seemed like one of those 'flat as a pancake' types.

But up close, she looked like one of those models with an hour-glass figure often seen in Telemundo soap operas. Her straight blonde hair plunged over her slender shoulders, making her look like a vogue-magazine cut-out dropped onto the streets of Lubumbashi.

"Hey, Zach? Nice to meet you." She stood up and walked up to him, extending a manicured hand. Her amber-brown eyes gazed playfully at him. They made his heart race like an inexperienced teenager that had met his crush for the first time.

Zachary had to drop his gaze in defeat before his mind was overtaken by inappropriate thoughts. His usual swagger, gained in his past life, had fled faster than a gambler from a bookie.

"Hey," Zachary stammered as he fumbled to take the slender hand of the girl. He realized he had taken too long to return her greeting. He looked at the floor to evade her gaze.

The old man suddenly cleared his throat to end the awkward situation. "I'm Martin Stein. This here is my granddaughter Kristin Stein. She's a scout in training. Nice to meet you." He also extended a hand towards Zachary for a handshake.

"Nice to meet you too." Zachary took the opportunity to escape and returned the salutation.

After exchanging greetings with the pair, he turned to Coach Damata for an explanation. He was beginning to grow tense under the scrutiny of the foreigners present in the office.

"These are scouts from the Norwegian Club Rosenborg BK," Coach Damata begun. "They are interested in recruiting you into one of the academies affiliated with them. Are you interested?" He smiled.

"Of course, I'm interested." Zachary was quick to answer. He would never pass up the chance to join a high-performance academy in Europe. As long as he was there, he could find a way to enter the European football system. Moreover, Rosenborg was one of the best teams in Norway and had a proper youth training system. They had even participated in European championships, playing against top teams like Chelsea and Valencia. He remembered betting some of their matches during his previous life.

"Hahaha, that's great. I like straightforward young men like you. And, it's good you speak perfect English, unlike most people here in the Congo. You'll find it easy to adapt to life in Norway." Mr. Stein laughed, taking off his sunhat. His deep wrinkles seemed to carve a map of his life on his still agile facial features. His bright blue eyes, framed by thick white eyebrows, glittered in the dim light along with his perfect set of dazzling teeth.

"Mr. Damata," he turned towards the coach, still standing by the door. "I would like to conclude this business before the end of today. Can you initiate the talent transfer procedures from Congo to Norway right away?"

"I can," Coach Damata replied, smiling. "But we need to engage Zachary's parents to kick-start the process."

[Parents?] Zachary's heart vibrated like a church drum in his chest.

"Oh, that's is understandable." Mr. Stein frowned. "Seems we won't conclude everything today. I even wanted to take him for a medical before we complete the transfer."

"We can still conclude if we manage to get in touch with the parents within two hours," Coach Damata assured before turning towards Zachary.

"Zach, can you contact your parents right away? We need them to sign the consent forms allowing you to travel to Norway."

Zachary sighed before replying, "I don't have any parents. I've been living with my grandma in Bukavu for as long as I can remember."

The other three in the room remained quiet after hearing Zachary's declaration. They regarded him with pity like he was a street kid. Zachary didn't like their stares.

"Oh," Coach Damata was fast to recover. "Can you get in touch with her? I mean your grandma." He asked, patting Zachary's shoulder.

"We both don't have phones," Zachary stated. "But, I can try getting in touch with a doctor who's our neighbor. Through him, we might reach her by the end of tomorrow." He sighed, beginning to regret not buying a pair of cheap phones for himself and his grandma.

The others in the room were rendered speechless for a few seconds by his statement. Kristin especially looked surprised by Zachary's circumstances.

"Don't worry about that," Coach Damata said confidently. "I'll help you complete the paperwork before the end of tomorrow." He patted Zachary's shoulder.

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"Please, Kasongo," Zachary beseeched. He looked up at the sky, tinged orange by the slanting rays of the setting sun.

"Just ten more balls, and we'll go back to rest." He moved back and positioned himself just a few steps outside the arc of the 18-yard-box.

"But these better be the last," Kasongo replied. "The training has me worn out. I'm on the verge of collapsing. How do you manage to keep this up every evening?"

Zachary ignored the comment and signaled his friend to toss the ball.

Dusk had descended upon Lubumbashi. However, the boys were still in the Kibassa-Maliba stadium. They were doing personalized training.

Zachary was highly motivated since he was doing most of the shooting. Kasongo merely tossed balls to him.

"Ready," Kasongo hollered out. "Set, and go." He tossed another ball with his hands towards the arc outside the 18-yard-box.

Zachary focused on the incoming ball and swung his left foot, pulling the trigger. He caught the center-bottom half of the ball, sending it whooshing at a low angle into the back of the empty goal.

"Another!" Zachary shouted while running back to his original position.

Kasongo tossed another ball. Zachary hit it squarely and unleashed a carpet-shot that also found the target. For the next few minutes, Kasongo tossed balls while Zachary unleashed volleys that found the target.

"GOAL," Zachary jubilated after hitting the last ball accurately. He felt like he had scored in a major competition.

Three weeks had elapsed since the day of the trial match attended by the scouts. After being selected for a sports academy in Norway, Zachary had immediately begun working on his arrow-shot. He believed he would advance it into a G.O.A.T skill after the day's training. So, he opened the system interface to view his progress.

--

USER MENU

USER STATS

G.O.A.T MISSIONS

SYSTEM SHOP (locked)

SYSTEM LOTTERY (locked)

SNOOPING TOOL

--

NB: Pls level-up the system to unlock more functions.

After helping his team win the trial match, the system rewarded Zachary by unlocking its snooping-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 Mangala, Edo Kayembe, and Miché Mika were all A-grade talents.

Zachary 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 G.O.A.T 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.

Zachary calmed his mind and clicked on the G.O.A.T-skills tab in the User-Stats menu.

-G.O.A.T Skills: 2

(i) ZINEDINE VISUAL JUJU

(1st-level: Progress: 10.001%)

--

(ii) ZACHARY-ARROW-SHOT

(1st-level: Progress: 1%)

--

Zachary's mood lifted. He raised a fist in celebration after viewing his G.O.A.T-Skills tab.

He had discovered another G.O.A.T skill in his user stats at the end of the trial match three weeks prior. He right away concluded that it was unlocked when he scored a goal from a long-range shot. It seemed the system could capture his best plays during games and turn them into potential skills.

Zachary had realized that as long as he improved his individual skills beyond a certain threshold, they had a chance of being registered in the G.O.A.T-skills of the system. His arrow-shot was one such skill.

It improved the power and accuracy of his shots from outside the box.

It had been at a measly 0.0001% when he first discovered it. However, with daily shooting practice for three weeks, he had managed to raise it to a 1st-level-progress of 1%.

Zachary had come to the realization that his G.O.A.T-skills, whether acquired from the system or self-trained, could only be leveled up with practice and playing real matches. Even the Zinedine-Visual-Juju had improved by 0.001% after he participated in the trial match and training sessions of the TP Mazembe reserves. He was falling more in love with the system.

"What are you looking at?" Kasongo's voice sounded from behind him. "I often see you spacing out, especially after training. Are you okay?"

Zachary turned around to face his friend before flashing a smile and replying, "I was replaying the feel of striking the ball on the volley in my mind. Doing that helps me improve my shooting form." Zachary lied.

He couldn't tell Kasongo he was looking at a system interface. That carried the risk of problems later on. He made a mental note to desist from opening the system around others.

"You've been improving really fast with your long-range shots." Kasongo smiled. "Three weeks ago, you could only hit 1 out of 10 balls on the volley accurately. But today, you were able to do it ten consecutive times. I can't fathom why the French teams left you out."

"Why do you keep bringing up the French teams?" Zachary frowned. He wanted to put the failure of that day behind him. However, Kasongo brought up the topic regularly.

"Hahaha," Kasongo laughed. He used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Tossing more than 100 balls to Zachary had tired him out.

"It's my luck we'll be going to the same academy. We do make a great team." A smile as big as a crescent moon lit up Kasongo's face.

"Has your dad finally signed off on your trip to Norway?" Zachary inquired. Kasongo had been complaining for the past two weeks about his stuck-up dad's refusal to sign the consent forms he needed to join a soccer academy in Europe.

"Yes." Kasongo grinned. "Coach Damata helped by talking to him. He had to post a letter from Mr. Stein detailing how the sports scholarship would include a study bursary. My old man only agreed after being assured that I could continue schooling even in Europe."

"Cong's." Zachary laughed, patting the short guy's back. "I told you to involve Coach Damata earlier. But you kept on delaying. You could have finalized all this paperwork without any hassle."

"Is all your paperwork finished? I mean permits, visa, consent forms, and police letters?"

"Hahaha. The coach helped me get my visa over a week ago. He even flew to Bukavu to meet my grandma for the signing of the consent forms. I'll fly out of the country next Tuesday." Zachary grinned. He was close to achieving the first objective in his new life.

Zachary had discussed the responsibilities and benefits he would be receiving in Norway at length with Mr. Stein. He now knew he had to train at the NF International academy, in Trondheim City, for six months before he could join the Rosenborg under-16 squad.

Alongside all the soccer training, Zachary had to take upper secondary education, also sponsored by Rosenborg. He would receive a monthly allowance of 14,000 Norwegian Kroner, provided he performed well in the academy and didn't fail high school. That was an amount he never got a chance to earn in his past life.

"Eehh. That fast!" Kasongo exclaimed. "You're not even going to say goodbye to your grandma?" Kasongo frowned.

"I would have loved to see her. However, I didn't want to risk traveling back to Bukavu." Zachary smiled ruefully.

"Why?" Kasongo looked at Zachary with confusion.

"There are many militia groups in the surrounding regions," Zachary whispered, looking around. "What if I get kidnapped when I'm this close to achieving my dreams? The risk will be even greater if the rogues back home hear that I'm heading to Europe. They might even resort to kidnapping my grandma for ransom if I succeed as a pro."

"I'm only protecting my grandma by not visiting." Zachary sighed, smiling ruefully. In his past life, He had ignored the rogues thinking they were just simple thugs. However, he knew better in this life. Most were rebels gearing up for the M23 rebellion, an armed conflict destined to break out a year and a half later. Zachary didn't wish to be a hero by attempting to stop the war from happening. He had no influence whatsoever in the Congo. He needed to evacuate his grandma before the conflict began.

He remembered that roughly a year and a half later, she had died after being hit by a stray bullet while on a church mission to Goma.

[I need to move her before that happens.] Zachary resolved inwardly.

"Do you need my help?" Kasongo asked anxiously. "I could move your grandma to Kinshasa."

"No, thanks." Zachary shook his head. "The capital has its own challenges. It's no better than the war-torn areas especially if you lack money. I'll move her to Lubumbashi as soon as I have something saved up."

"If you need any help, don't forget to approach me," Kasongo intoned solemnly. "I'll help in any way I can."

Zachary nodded before diverting the topic.

"When do you plan to travel to Norway?"

"Not sure yet."

"You need to speed up your paperwork. Mr. Stein and Miss Kristin will be with me on the same flight next Tuesday. We should travel together." Zachary suggested.

"I'll try my best," Kasongo concurred.

"Let's gather the balls and head to the hotel. It's getting late. Mr. Stein must be waiting for us." The two had moved into a new hotel with the Norwegian scouts after being selected for the scholarship. Zachary no longer had to worry about his friend's security. His only wish was that the remaining six days would pass quickly so he could continue his journey in Europe.

END OF 1ST VOLUME: ESCAPING FATE *

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Tuesday, August 17, 2010.

Zachary checked the time on his watch. It was 10:00 PM.

[Travelling sure is hard.] He sighed.

Together with Kasongo and the two Norwegians, Zachary had taken a morning flight from Lubumbashi to Addis-Ababa, Ethiopia. That was the first stop-over on their twenty-two-hour journey to Trondheim, Norway. After a four-hour rest in the airport, they joined the boarding queue of an Ethiopian airlines flight heading to Amsterdam. Due to their well-organized paperwork, they faced no challenges going through customs. They then boarded an airport bus that transported them to the plane that would fly them to Amsterdam through the night.

Zachary turned his attention to the planes he could see flashing by through the window. Men and women in reflector jackets moved around them, towing loads of cargo or shouting instructions. A few airport vehicles, Zachary could not identify, were parked beside the planes as well.

"Are the two of you nervous?" Mr. Stein, on his left, probed. On his back lay a gigantic backpack that shouldn't have been carried by a man his age. Zachary had volunteered to help him with the luggage, but the old man had refused.

"Nope," Kasongo, standing opposite them, replied. He was dressed in designer clothes and shoes that made him look like a rapper rather than a soccer player. His white timberland boots were especially eye-catching in the dimly lit bus.

"Traveling on a plane is much more comfortable than a ride on a bus. I enjoyed the flight from Lubumbashi to Addis-Ababa. The food was delicious." He added, smiling.

"Have you flown a lot previously?" Kristin asked from beside him.

"Well, just about once a year. My dad takes us on vacations every festive season. Last year we were in France. But this will be my first time in Norway." Kasongo answered, smiling.

Zachary chose to stay out of the discussion. He was slightly ashamed to mention his fears to the group, especially with Miss Kristin present. The truth was he was terrified by planes. No matter how luxurious the furnishings inside the airplane were, it would never be more than a flying metal tube to Zachary. The fact that this was his first trip out of DR Congo amplified his fears. He was frightened by the thought of being more than 30,000 feet off the ground. There were so many things that could go wrong at that altitude.

Nonetheless, he was eager to reach Trondheim City. There, he would finally begin his journey to become a soccer pro on the European scene. That was the single thing he had been dreaming about his whole past life, and now it was all finally coming true. It was the only thought that had kept him brave enough to endure the long journey.

"What about you, Zach?" Mr. Stein asked, turning towards him. "Are you nervous?"

"Well, I don't like planes," Zachary replied honestly. "I just want the journey to end as quickly as possible."

"We'll get there. Don't worry." Mr. Stein patted his back.

They spent the rest of their short ride on the bus in silence before boarding the plane. At 10:30 PM, the plane took off. They were in the skies.

Zachary was seated beside Kasongo in a 2-seater on the row closest to the window. The Norwegians were situated behind them in the economy class section.

Zachary felt better knowing that he was in Boeing-747, a jumbo jet. He'd not heard of one, en route to Europe, crashing in the year 2010 of his previous life. He ignored Kasongo who was watching movies and forced himself into slumber. Zachary woke up the next morning as the plane descended into Amsterdam.

They didn't spend much time in the Amsterdam airport. With Mr. Stein's help, the two boys quickly got through the customs and immigration procedures at the airport. In a short while, they were allowed to board another plane to Trondheim, Norway.

Zachary let out a breath of pent up air when the plane touched down on the runway at the Værnes Airport in Trondheim after another two hours of flight.

"Welcome to Trondheim." Mr. Stein smiled at the two African boys as he got up from his seat. "How was the flight?" He asked.

"Okay," Zachary replied.

"Exciting," Kasongo laughed.

"That's great." Mr. Stein smiled. "We need to get you settled in by noon today. "Let's head to customs right away."

The two boys followed the Norwegians and were soon out of the plane.

"It's very cold," Zachary commented once they were out into the open air.

"Don't mind the weather," Mr. Stein consoled. "You'll soon get used to it." He led the way down the airstair of the plane.

"I hear that in winter, the temperatures may drop to a bare minimum of -4 Degrees Centigrade," Kasongo commented, wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck.

"We won't have any soccer matches in such weather. Our seasons usually end by early December." Kristin cut in as they continued hurrying across the tarmac of the airport.

It was 9 AM, one of the worst times for an African to arrive in Northern Europe during autumn. Zachary was assaulted by the chilly breeze cutting through his heavy jacket. He began shivering before he even reached the bottom of the airstair.

[Coming from Africa and stepping into Europe is like descending from a warm oven into a freezer.] He mused.

At that early hour, the lounges of Værnes airport were very serene. The people moved with ease, quiet rivers of humanity freshly roused from their slumber. The floors were clean and white, reflecting both the early rays and the artificial lights.

Since their group had already been through European immigration procedures in Amsterdam, they didn't spend much time in the airport. They presented their travel documents and exited the airport only after forty minutes.

A Rosenborg van collected them from the airport and transported them to the city. The city wasn't what Zachary expected. He expected to see skyscrapers like those in American movies all around Trondheim. But medieval buildings covered the majority of the cityscape. Trondheim itself was beautiful and charming, with neat roads and unique urban architecture. The streets were glorious in their inception. The sidewalks made of smooth grey stones, joined with such precision that the joins were almost invisible. The buildings were nothing short of historical, the bastions of the city's pride, stamping its status as one of the eco-cities on the planet. Zachary noticed that there was no garbage or sewage on the streets as they traveled through the city. The city was very clean compared to either Kinshasa or Lubumbashi.

"We've just passed the Nidelva River. That is the Nidaros Cathedral. There's a soccer pitch around there where you could train in the future." Miss Kristin pointed at a medieval grey church building in the distance as they crossed a bridge. She'd appointed herself as the guide of the two African boys.

"Miss Kristin," Zachary intoned. "Where will we be staying?" That was his main concern at the moment.

"Moholt student village," Kristin replied, smiling. "We're almost there. You'll like the place."

After another twenty minutes, by Zachary's estimation, the Rosenborg van pulled into the parking lot of the student village. Tall brown buildings, roughly six stories high, loomed around them.

"This is the largest student village in Trondheim City," Mr. Stein said after they exited the van with their luggage in tow. "Usually, this place is reserved for international students at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology." He continued.

"However, we've agreed with the university's office of international relations. They've allowed us to house our international students here as well. You'll be sharing a four-room apartment with two of our other academy players from Sweden."

"Come on. I'll show you to your apartment." The old man smiled as he led the way out of the parking lot and into one of the buildings.

Kasongo and Zachary followed while Kristin remained in the van.

A minute later, they stood in a well-furnished apartment on the fourth floor of the building. In the living room, there were two huge fridges, a cooker, sinks, furniture, and other household appliances Zachary didn't recognize. The room was well illuminated by the rays of the morning sun coming in through a huge window that overlooked the parking lot.

[This is utopia.] Zachary concluded.

He couldn't help but compare the apartment with his house back in Bukavu that had no access to both electricity and piped water.

"Choose one of the rooms on the right," Mr. Stein instructed. "Room 1 and 2 are already occupied by your housemates who are still away on holiday." He smiled.

Zachary selected room number four whereas Kasongo chose number three.

"Okay then," Mr. Stein smiled. "Here are the keys to each of your rooms. You can unpack and rest today. I will be here to take you to meet your coaches tomorrow morning." He handed each of them an envelope with their names.

"There is food in the fridge if you wish to cook. Try not to move around unless you have to. But if you need to buy something urgently, head over to the supermarket just across the parking lot where we were. The money for the week is also in the envelope."

"Any questions before I leave?" He asked, looking at both Zachary and Kasongo inquisitively.

"Do we start training tomorrow?" Kasongo inquired.

"The coaches will decide after your medical tomorrow," the scout replied.

"Zach, don't you have any questions?"

"Not at the moment," Zachary replied, smiling. "We can talk tomorrow about everything else." The long journey had worn him out. He needed to rest and prepare for the meeting with the coaches. There was no need for him to worry about anything as long as he had food in the apartment. He was glad he had safely arrived in Europe and looked forward to beginning his soccer training.

"Okay. It's good that you're calm." Mr. Stein nodded. "Be ready by nine o'clock tomorrow morning. We'll head over to the academy then. But don't do anything you wouldn't if your parents were around." He warned.

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The day dawned crisp and clear.

As promised, Mr. Stein picked the two boys from their new apartment at Moholt student village at 8:55 AM. Zachary and Kasongo had long been ready and were waiting for the scout in the parking lot. They'd dressed in heavy clothing to shield themselves from the morning coldness. They were eager to commence their first day as academy players in Norway.

"How was your night," Mr. Stein asked as the Toyota Carib they were in pulled out of the parking lot, heading into the main road. The aged scout was on the steering while the two boys sat in the back, admiring the sceneries.

"Quite good," Kasongo was the first to reply, smiling. "I slept like a baby the whole night."

"Same here. The night couldn't have been better." Zachary also responded. His new comfy bed, with silk duvets and cotton bed sheets, was like a heaven on earth to him. He'd entered a deep slumber right after eating a self-cooked delicious dinner the previous evening. The heater in the room guaranteed that the cold outside never affected his sleep. He already liked his new life.

"I'm happy to hear that." Mr. Stein smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. "We'll first head to the NTNU Sports Department where you'll undergo a medical. Your move to Rosenborg BK won't be finalized unless you pass the medical tests there." He added solemnly.

"But we're academy players," Kasongo contested, frowning. "And we've already gone through mandatory check-ups in Lubumbashi. You remember?"

"The academy coaches need to know that you're a worthwhile investment. Of course, I trust that the two of you are fit since I was with you in Lubumbashi." Mr. Stein paused as he rounded a round-about before entering another wider street, with denser traffic. Zachary noticed that there wasn't any traffic jam on the roads of Trondheim. Many people were on their bikes in a side lane, probably riding to work.

Mr. Stein continued his explanation after entering the straight section of the road.

"We'll be trying to give the academy as much information as possible because, in the end, they've to decide whether they want to train you or not. The results of the medical will also help them design a better training plan for you once you enter the academy."

"But what happens if we fail?" Kasongo asked. Zachary also nodded to indicate his doubts.

"No worries," Mr. Stein smiled. "You'll still be allowed to spend six months at the academy before being sent back to Africa. But I have confidence in you. You won't fail."

They spent the rest of the minutes of their car ride in silence. The boys seemed to be worried about the medicals while Mr. Stein was busy navigating the road. A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the gigantic building housing the sports department. It was roughly six to eight stories high, by Zachary's estimation.

"This here is St. Olav's University Hospital complex," Mr. Stein said as they exited their ride. "The offices of NTNU's Sports Department are in the building. You'll undergo your medical there."

An hour later, Zachary sat on an exercise bike in a well-equipped room, similar to a gym. He frowned at the medical specialist. The doctor had taken him through hell as an excuse for a warm-up. Every five minutes, the resistance of the bike increased, putting more strain on his limbs. He was already in agony even before the real medical commenced.

[I wonder how Kasongo is doing.] He mused.

He'd been separated from Mr. Stein and Kasongo right after meeting with the medic who was to conduct his medical. The middle-aged doctor had introduced himself as Dr. Alexander Øystein before leading him to the gym. There, he'd requested Zachary to warm-up on the bike until he said otherwise. Zachary did not complain but carried out the exercise as instructed. However, it was already close to an hour, yet the doctor wasn't putting a stop to his warm-up. Zachary was frustrated.

"Okay, that's enough," Dr. Øystein intoned. Zachary couldn't tell from his poker face whether he was impressed or not. He hopped off the bike and waited for his instructions.

"Next, we shall carry out the Biodex assessment, which is a test designed to test the strength between your muscle groups," the doctor explained.

After a quick warm-up, Zachary was strapped into a white chair and instructed to extend his leg by kicking out before pulling it back to the starting position. Dr. Øystein requested him to repeat the exercise five times, then again with more resistance for each leg. Pulling the elastic strap, especially with his left leg, tired him out until he was panting like a Labrador running in the sun.

Later, the doctor instructed Zachary to run on a treadmill at varying speeds while breathing into a mask to determine his aerobic capabilities. Zachary had great endurance that enabled him to go through all the required exercises without a hitch. His B stamina wasn't only for show.

Throughout the day, he underwent several tests, most of which seemed to be senseless to him. The doctor put him through bone scans, blood and urine tests, plus several other medical check-ups that were alien to Zachary. He spent six hours with the doctor and was only permitted to leave a few minutes after three in the afternoon. He couldn't tell whether he had passed the medical after the doctor finished with the tests. The doctor didn't smile even once during the whole session.

"How was your medical test?" Zachary asked Kasongo once they met in the parking lot.

"I honestly don't know," the short guy replied, shaking his head. "My doctor was one of those serious people who never smile."

"How was yours?"

"Same," Zachary replied, fastening his jacket. "I can't tell whether I passed or not. The doctor didn't disclose anything."

"Do you think that they could send us back?" Kasongo queried, frowning.

"I don't think so. This was just an academy medical. They don't need us to play matches right away. So, as long as we don't have any latent injuries, we shall pass." Zachary assured his friend.

"I hope so," Kasongo murmured.

"Stop worrying." Zachary patted his back. "Let's wait for Mr. Stein. He'll give us the results today as we are head home."

Concurrently in one of the offices of NTNU's Sports Department.

Dr. Alexander Øystein presented the results from the medicals to Mr. Stein and another middle-aged gentleman. The gentleman was Boyd Johansen, the interim head coach of the NF International Academy in Trondheim.

"My Friend, Martin. You managed to acquire a perfect specimen on your trip." Dr. Øystein laughed. He was all smiles and had done away with the poker face he had presented to Zachary.

Both Mr. Stein and Coach Johansen didn't reply but just waited for the doctor to continue.

"The boy Zachary is very fit for his age. It's like he has been through professional training over the past three months. His skeletal range of movement is simply excellent. I checked his joints and pelvic muscles and noticed that they were in great shape. I can boldly hypothesize that he has good lower-body mobility and perfect body coordination."

"Are you sure that he wasn't part of a professional team?" He inquired, looking doubtfully at Mr. Stein.

"He's just about to make sixteen. Which professional training could he possibly get in Congo? Does he have any red flags? What about his left leg?" Mr. Stein's words came out at the pace of a machine gun. He'd heard some rumors about Zachary's left foot being injured and wanted to confirm their validity. He even ignored the advice of the Nantes' scout and insisted on recruiting him.

"What injury?" Dr. Øystein scoffed. "As a doctor, I can tell you this. The boy's bones have never experienced any fractures. The strength of his left foot is phenomenal. I tested it several times to check for any weak spots in his leg-muscles, but there were none."

"That's great news for me," Mr. Stein yelled, smiling.

"We still don't know anything about his soccer skills," Coach Johansen cut in.

"Didn't I hand you my report about the boy?" Mr. Stein frowned.

"You didn't carry out any practical tests to measure his skills." The interim head coach shook his head, sighing. "You just let him play against none professionals who might have been amateurs at soccer, for all we know."

"What did you expect? You want us to just fix him into the academy without knowing his skills?" He questioned.

"I will test the boys myself in a real match next week. I can only determine if he qualifies for the scholarship then."

"But there are no under-16 matches this month," Mr. Stein argued.

"There's an under-19 friendly game with Viking on Tuesday next week. I'm adding him to the line-up." Coach Johansen smiled at the scout.

"Are you serious? He's just fifteen."

"If he is as good as you make him out to be, there isn't a need to worry. As they say, a diamond is a chunk of coal that did well under pressure. Does he have high game intelligence? Let's see if your boy is a diamond or a waste when he is under pressure during the game." The coach stated nonchalantly.

"Alex, help me out here." Mr. Stein turned towards the doctor after noticing that he couldn't reason with the coach. "The boy hasn't trained with the team yet. However, he's now pushed into a group with members, three years his seniors. He'll face a high risk of injury."

The doctor turned and started typing on his computer as if he'd never heard a word from the scout. He seemed to be implying that he wouldn't take part in their argument.

"Martin," Coach Johansen cut in. "My decision is final. He'll train with the boys on Friday and Monday before taking part in the game on Tuesday. I don't need him to do much in the game. He just has to perform above average."

"Doctor, what about the other boy?" The coach turned his attention back to Alexander.

"Oh, yes. My colleague tested the second boy. I've his report here." The doctor said, picking up one of the files on his desk. He looked through the file before continuing.

"He's average. Not too fit but not too shabby either. He has good lower-limb strength and good stamina. However, his body fat is slightly on the higher end. His test didn't find any red flags within his body. So, he can join the academy." He concluded his account, closing the file.

"High body fat?" The coach mumbled, frowning. "I'll give him only a month to get fully fit. Otherwise, I'll have to send him back after six months. I hate lazy players the most."

"Why're you doing this?" Mr. Stein asked.

"Doing what?"

"Picking on the players I've brought in?"

Coach Johansen looked at the scout and shrugged. "I treat all my players the same. As long as the two boys meet my requirements, they'll have nothing to worry about."

"Doctor. If there is nothing else, I'll be heading to the training grounds. My players are waiting." He excused himself, leaving the other two men in the room.

"Boyd is sometimes a pain in the ass," Mr. Stein commented after the coach had left.

"You have to understand that he's under a lot of pressure to perform. Setting stringent selection criteria is one of the strategies he's using to meet his goals. He's still an interim after all."

"Nah," Mr. Stein shook his head. "I'm guessing that he's related to one of my foes on the board. What do I tell the boys now?"

"It's as if you've just become a scout," the doctor exclaimed. "Tell them the truth."

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After the medical at St. Olav, Mr. Stein drove the two boys back to their apartment before disclosing the results of their tests. He then explained to the boys how they had passed but still needed to undergo one final test before they could receive the soccer academy's scholarship.

"Let me get this straight," Kasongo intoned, frowning. "We passed the medical, but the coach still wants to put us through another test before we sign a contract?" He was as outspoken as usual.

"That's basically it." Mr. Stein nodded.

"Why an under-19 match for me?" Zachary asked, drumming his fingers on the dining table. The slanting rays of the evening sun coming into the small kitchen through the opposite window highlighted the sullen look on his face.

Mr. Stein, seated on one of the chairs on the opposite side, looked at him and smiled.

"Are you scared?"

"Yes, I'm," Zachary replied honestly.

He was informed that he was to face the under-19 players who'd been undergoing well-tailored professional training from their childhood. He wasn't so naive to think he would best such players—two to three years his seniors.

"Do you watch the English Premier League?" Mr. Stein asked, leaning back in his seat.

The question caught Zachary off guard. He looked at the scout, wondering why he'd brought up the premiership—but nothing came to his mind at that moment. Nonetheless, he still decided to humor the aged scout with an answer.

"I do." He nodded.

Mr. Stein cast a teasing glance at Zachary before speaking.

"Then you must have watched the Arsenal team of 2003 when Cesc Fàbregas made his debut for the Gunners at the age of 16. That was in an English Premiership club—several tiers above our Rosenborg BK. But the boy Cesc started his professional career at such a young age and still managed to impress in one of the toughest leagues on the planet."

"What about you?"

Mr. Stein seemed more like a coach rather than a scout.

"If you can't even perform in a friendly game of the Rosenborg under-19s, how will you succeed as a professional player later on? Will you be able to compete with boys, talented as Cesc?" The scout queried, locking eyes with Zachary.

The questions hit Zachary's psyche like a blacksmith's hammer on hot iron, molding a determination of steel he'd never possessed in the entirety of his two lives. His eyes lit up as a dozen or so new ambitions streamed through his brain. He desired to be a winner who was able to compete with anybody.

He couldn't help but think about the greats like Lionel Messi and Christiano Ronaldo. They had made their debuts in official matches at the ages of seventeen and eighteen, respectively. But they had shined like the stars they were, stumping their names in the histories of their clubs.

Zachary dreamed of such glory and was determined to achieve it.

[I need to start gunning for the top right away.] He deliberated.

He resolved to be the greatest such that if he ever faltered, he would fall close to the top. If he set his sights on besting Ronaldinho but failed, he would at least compare with Neymar or end up as a Mohamed Salah in the future. And that was not a bad thing for him since he was just a failure in his past life.

With the system as support, coupled with his hard work, he believed that he would reach the top sooner or later. He just had to correct his attitude before it was too late.

With newfound vigor, he looked at the scout with a glint in his eyes. "I understand," he said solemnly. "I'll aim for an excellent performance during the friendly match with Viking. You won't be disappointed."

"Atta-boy. That's the spirit." The scout laughed.

"Remember that motivation is only your motor, but you have to steer toward the right destination. I have been a scout for a long time and can tell that you're a talent. Your destination should be the top professional leagues of Europe."

Zachary was embarrassed by the praise since he'd used a system's vitality-enhancing elixir to improve his physique. He simply maintained a poker face as he continued listening to the scout's words.

"Your physique is strong enough to support you in the under-19s. You simply need to grow some extra balls, stay calm, and perform."

"If you do, some doors you never thought existed might be opened." Mr. Stein added, voice turning dramatic at the very end.

"What do you mean?" Zachary hurriedly inquired. He could tell that there might be a hint somewhere in the scout's monologue.

"You didn't hear this from me," Mr. Stein murmured as if he was hiding his speech from a hidden entity somewhere in the small kitchen of their apartment. He looked comical.

"If you play well, you may catch the eye of Rosenborg's head coach. I'm sure that he'll be present for the game since he's looking for new players to join the senior team. You may escape the fate of staying in the academy for a period greater than six months if he notices you."

"Really?" Both Zachary and Kasongo exclaimed in unison, jumping up from their seats in surprise. They longed to play soccer as professionals. Debuting quicker was their goal.

"It's the truth." The old man smiled slyly.

"How can I get into the line-up of that match," Kasongo grumbled like an aggrieved housewife. "And why does Zach get all the good opportunities?"

"Kasongo, don't get me started on your incompetence," The scout said, frowning.

"How can a young sportsman like you have excess body fat? What have you been eating? You better take your fitness training seriously. Otherwise, I'll tell Coach Damata to inform your old man. You can say goodbye to soccer forever." He harrumphed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stein," Kasongo pleaded. "I'll train seriously starting tomorrow morning."

"I hope so. But hold that thought. I'll be taking you to acquire your temporary residence permits from the police tomorrow. After that, you'll be able to open a Norwegian bank account where we'll deposit your allowances."

"When do we depart?" Kasongo asked.

"8:30 in the morning," Mr. Stein replied. "We need to finish all your immigration procedures by noon since Zach will need to attend the pre-match training session with the under-19s tomorrow afternoon."

"Kasongo, you'll come with me to check out the gym where the two of you will be training during your first six months here."

"Do we need to pay for the gym?" Zachary cut in before the scout could continue. He'd already chanced upon a small gym in his building's basement earlier that day. It could satisfy all his needs without the need to pay for expensive membership in the city center. He didn't wish to spend his allowance on anything unnecessary.

"You don't have to worry," Mr. Stein replied, smiling. "As long as you use the gym between 6 to 8 AM, you won't have to pay a single cent."

"Oh, that's great. I'll be sure to check it out on Saturday." His training with the under-19s was only on Friday and Monday. He would have the whole weekend to check out the gym.

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The next day.

Zachary received his temporary residence permit from the police station and managed to open a bank account. Surprisingly, Mr. Stein banked the 14,000 Norwegian Kroner that was his monthly allowance soon after. He seemed not to mind the fact that Zachary had not yet signed a contract with either the Rosenborg team or the NF Academy. When Zachary queried him about the issue, he just flashed a smile before telling him to perform well during the match on Tuesday.

At noon, Zachary returned to Moholt and ate light lunch before starting his preparations for his first training session later that day.

Since the Rosenborg senior team was using the Lerkendal Stadium that afternoon, the coaches had organized for the under-19 training session to take place at the Death-Valley Fotballbanen. It was a soccer pitch owned by NTNUI—the largest sports club in Norway.

Zachary reached the pitch at around 2:30 PM. He'd no trouble locating the Death-Valley since Mr. Stein's had already brought him there earlier that day. On arrival, he noticed that more than twenty players were already dressed and going through light warm-ups on the sidelines. They were an intimidating bunch. The majority were Caucasians, standing at almost six feet tall, with physiques—seemingly more muscular or comparable to his.

There was only a single African player in their midst with a dark-brown skin tone and hair shaped into a mini-afro. Zachary supposed that he was probably not very famous in his previous life since he couldn't identify him.

Running beside him was the only player Zachary recognized among all the boys on the pitch. He was a tall fellow with neck-length black hair named Ole—something. Zachary recalled Ole playing for the French team Saint-Étienne in a match against Lyon during his past life. The midfielder was hard to forget since he shared a name with one of Norway's greatest players.

Zachary didn't bother the group of players and quickly donned his new soccer attire. He'd bought several sets of jerseys and a new pair of Nike boots after receiving his allowance earlier that day.

Soon enough, Zachary, fully dressed in a light-green attire, started warming up alone on the sidelines. He started off by marching on the spot before running from one corner flag to another—along the goal line. He made sure to include some forward and backward sprints in his routine when he pumped his arms up and down in rhythm with his steps.

Salty droplets flowed down his face like soft tropical rain, dripping onto the artificial turf of the pitch. But Zachary didn't stop the routine until he felt that his muscles were active and ready for intensive soccer drills. During the short career of his previous life, he'd come to understand the importance of warming the body before any intensive exercise. It would help increase his flexibility while reducing muscle soreness and lessening the risk of injury.

Zachary concluded his warm-up with some light stretches before returning his attention to the other players. He wanted to spy on some of their talents using the system. He was a staunch believer of the 'know your competitor as you know yourself' principle.

Zachary picked up one of the stray balls from the sidelines before clicking on the snooping-tool. He had to be in contact with a ball for the tool to function.

"DING"

Zachary focused on the interface as soon as the familiar system notification sounded.

Cross-hairs similar to those of a sniper android game had appeared on the screen. A few words were above and below them.

SNOOPING TOOL ACTIVATED

-Focus the virtual scope on the subject to assess their talent.

--

Allowed usage for a single month: 6/6.

--

Zachary focused the virtual-cross-hairs on Ole—the only midfielder he recognized on the pitch.

"DING"

SUBJECT: Ole Selnæs

AGE: 16 years

TALENT ASSESSMENT: GRADE-A

--

USER STATS

-Physical Fitness: A

-Soccer Technique: A

-Game Intelligence: B

-Mental Ability and Mindset: A-

-X-Factors: C

Zachary was at a loss for words after glancing at the translucent virtual screen. He wondered whether all the players on the team were A-grade talents. The boy Ole was just slightly older than him but with much better stats. The only stat Zachary bested him was the Game-Intelligence that he had luckily elevated due to his acquisition of the Zinedine-Visual-Juju.

What surprised Zachary the most was the boy possessing a C grade for the X-Factor stat. To this point, he didn't understand what the attribute represented. On his user-stats interface were the glittering words—No Info Available as of yet. The system had left him with no clue about how to improve his X-Factor.

Zachary was about to continue his spying but noticed that the coaches had arrived. They had just blown the whistle calling everyone to the center circle.

Zachary closed the virtual screen and dashed off towards the coaches. He was eager to begin his first training with the Rosenborg under-19s.

"Is Zachary Bemba here?" One of the two coaches hollered out after making a short address to the players seated in the center circle.

"Here." Zachary, seated at the back of the group, raised his arm as he replied. He'd noticed that the middle-aged bald coach who'd called his name was somewhat too tall for his build—as if he stopped growing only to be stretched on one of those medieval racks a half-foot more. His face was mostly obscured by a scraggly red beard that clung to his skin like ravaged ivy tendrils.

"So, you're the Zachary," the coach intoned, starting to observe him with a predator's unwavering attention. There was a hardness in his eyes, a kind of coldness married to a seriousness. It was the look of a no-nonsense coach. At that moment, Zachary knew that he was in for some tough time if he didn't manage to impress.

And the coach's ensuing few words proved his conjecture.

"Welcome to the team," he said after observing him for a few seconds. "But keep in mind that you're still in a probationary period. I hope old man Stein filled you in on this!" He looked at Zachary inquisitively.

"Yes, he did," Zachary replied, choosing to ignore the confused expressions of the rest of the players in front of him. Zachary supposed that they weren't aware of his addition to the team.

Mr. Stein had warned him not to antagonize the coach while touching upon some of the conditions he was to fulfill before sealing his move to Norway.

"If your performance is subpar during these two training sessions, I won't bother including you in the line-up for the match on Tuesday. Are we together?"

"Yes, coach," Zachary replied, unfazed by the coach's words.

During his past life, he'd come to understand that coaches loved one thing the most—winning. This occupational hazard made coaches prone to loving players who performed well and lusted for victory. Zachary needed to show the coach that he was such a player starting from his first training with the Rosenborg under-19s.

And he did just that over the next two sessions of pre-match training.

On that Friday, the training session focused on scrutinizing the physical condition of the players that would partake in the match. All the players went through fitness drills that tested their flexibility, agility, and stamina.

Zachary vigorously completed all the required drills, as instructed by Coach Boyd Johansen.

When it was time for running the speed and agility cone exercises, he did double the required number. Zachary understood the importance of physical training and decided to outdo himself with his young body.

He'd heard that Cristiano Ronaldo managed to rise to the top by doing such inhumane fitness conditioning from a young age. Zachary had no way to verify such rumors. However, he wished to emulate such hard work to keep himself fit throughout his career—and above all, improve his agility.

He silently completed the day's training without wasting any time on needless chatter with the others. He had no luxury for such since he was yet to join the team. In the meantime, all he could think about was how to impress the coaches. Zachary would have all the time to bond with the other players after performing well during the match on Tuesday.

The Monday training session focused on drilling the match formations into the players' style of play. The coaches organized several 6-versus-4 team training drills that focused on passing and team play.

Zachary tackled like a soccer maniac, intercepted balls like the future N'Golo Kanté, and continuously performed some crazy off-ball movement when he participated. It was as if he had endless stamina with a nitro engine tied to his butt.

By the time drills were over, most of his new teammates were treating him with respect as a hardworking player who was never fatigued. The training had revealed to them that Zachary was the kind of player anyone hated having as an opponent. He was good at all the dirty jobs like the tackling needed for the team.

However, there were a couple of the under-19 players not convinced or, more likely, too inflamed with jealousy to respect a fifteen-year-old newbie fresh from Africa.

Some even insulted him, making sure that he heard their verbal abuse. They nicknamed him the Mindless-Shrek, either due to his extreme enthusiasm towards training or his outfit. In the two pre-match practice sessions, his default attire had been all green, from the shirt to the boots.

Zachary did not bother with the few simple-minded teenagers.

He'd already learned his lesson during the Lubumbashi trials and wouldn't pick a fight. He was in Europe to play soccer and make some good money. He wouldn't let his anger get in the way of that.

He turned a blind eye to the few boys and completed his cooling down routine while awaiting the line-up from the coaches.

And he didn't have to wait long.

A few minutes later, Coach Johansen blew the whistle and beckoned everyone into the center circle.

"Thank you for attending today's training," he began after all the players were seated on the smooth turf of the Death Valley.

"I have already said all that there is earlier during the training and won't waste your time with any long speeches." He grinned, letting his gaze roam all over the players that were eagerly waiting for the line-ups. He seemed to relish in the tension hanging in the evening air.

The players, including Zachary, didn't make any disgruntled noises to pressure the coach into rushing his address. They silently waited for him to advance at his own pace. Not a single player would blunder in such a way on the eve of a big game.

"Sir. It's almost seven." Coach Johansen's assistant, Bjørn Peters, reminded him.

"Oh," he said, flipping his notebook open.

"The provisional squad for tomorrow's game against the under-19s of Viking FK will be as follows..."

"Goal Keepers; Even Barli, Grant Anderson."

"Defence; Simen Wangberg, Emil Røkke, Christoffer Aasbak, Espen Schmitz, and Ulrik Balstad."

"Midfield; Markus Henriksen, Fredrik Midtsjö, Ole Selnaes, and Zachary Bemba."

"Forwards; Mushaga Bakenga, Jonas Svensson, and Gjermund Asen."

"For those selected, make sure you are at Lerkendal by 3:00 PM tomorrow. We will have a team meeting before the match."

"Those not on the line-up can try harder for the next match. Dismissed." The coach concluded.

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Zachary left the Death Valley right after Coach Johansen had finished naming the line-ups for the game. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders when the coach mentioned his name as part of the team. He walked taller. His stride was lighter, more carefree.

He was looking forward to the game against Viking FK.

The cold evening gave him a reason to rush back home—to his new apartment and enjoy the warmth of the heating system in his room. He quickened his step and reached Moholt within less than fifteen minutes.

"You're back." Kasongo flashed him a smile when he entered the small kitchen, also serving as their living room. Zachary noticed that he'd just placed some French fries and chicken breasts in the oven. The boy was someone who enjoyed his chicken. That was a conclusion made by Zachary after spending the past few days with him.

"How was it?" He asked, looking at Zachary expectantly.

Zachary grinned and said: "What do you think? I'm on the team."

Kasongo sighed. "Man, you're a lucky bastard. You're already going to play a match in Europe, whereas I'm stuck with physicals at the gym, day in day out."

"Just cut down on your meat consumption," Zachary advised. "You wouldn't need the physicals if you had no excess fat."

"Who's says that chicken increases fat? It's just because of my height that I've issues with my body fat percentage." Kasongo argued.

"Are you in the starting eleven?" He asked.

"I don't know yet. The coaches will name the starting team players tomorrow before the match. But I'll most likely not be starting." Zachary replied.

"That's understandable. You're a newbie on the team." Kasongo intoned. "Is the match going to be played in the main Lerkendal Stadium?" He asked.

"Yes," Zachary replied. The Lerkendal Idrettspark, owned by Rosenborg, consisted of the main stadium and three training pitches. They were well managed and strictly controlled by the club's management. Their under-19 game against Viking Stavanger would take place in the main stadium.

"If you play, I will be there to cheer you on. Go and showcase the spirit of African football." Kasongo smiled. He then focused on cutting onions in preparations for their dinner. The two had resolved to cook in turns during their stay together in Trondheim. That day was Kasongo's turn.

Zachary didn't talk at length with Kasongo that night. He washed up, ate dinner, and headed back to his room to sleep by 9:00 PM. He was tired mentally and physically. The training had emptied his energy reserves.

However, he was glad that he'd taken another step towards achieving his dream of becoming a pro soccer player on the international stage.

Zachary felt good as he crawled beneath the sheets. He slept well that night, dreaming of himself lying in a bed of dollars.

The day of the match finally arrived.

The Nordmenn loved their soccer, or rather, their football teams. The people of Trondheim were no exception. Rumors about Rosenborg's under-19 match against Viking Stavanger had spread fast in the small city of Trondheim over the previous few days. They attracted a large number of fans that had arrived at the stadium two hours before the start of the match.

By 2:30 PM, the stands behind one of the goalposts were already fully occupied. That was the section of the stadium that often housed the staunch fans—also members of Rosenborg's supporter club during matches.

Kasongo could feel the adrenaline from the pitch to the stands and flowing right around the stadium. It was the sort of tension mixed with excitement that should not have occurred for a simple under-19 match. He was glad that he'd tagged along with a group of new friends to the stadium. And this was a particularly overzealous group of fans.

He looked expectantly towards his friend, Zachary. He was among the Rosenborg under-19s warming-up between the goalposts that stood sentry at either end of the perfect pitch. He looked the part of a real pro in the black Rosenborg training kit.

For Zachary, it was the perfect day with the ideal conditions in which to play his first match in Europe. The weather was gorgeous that afternoon. Blue skies, no wind, ambient temperature—it was more like an absence of weather. The usual autumn coldness was absent that Tuesday.

Lerkendal Stadium was millions of perfect grass strands as eager for the start of play as the fans who had already brought the stadium to light. Zachary could hear their loud cheers fueling his eagerness to perform. But at the same time, he was a bit overwhelmed by the atmosphere. It had been a long time since he last played in front of a crowd.

Zachary stretched his legs and watched the Viking FK players match into the other half of the pitch. Their light grey-training kits seemed somewhat dull to Zachary.

As they took the field in perfect formation, a slow, steady booing filled the air. The Rosenborg home fans were already giving the Viking team hell even before the match started. Although the stadium was only a quarter full, the cheers of the fans were deafening.

"All players stop the warm-up exercises and head to the dressing room..." The assistant coach, Bjørn Peters, yelled as he moved around the half of the pitch occupied by the Rosenborg team.

"Zach! Zach!"

As Zachary jogged towards the dressing room, he heard someone calling out his name from one of the emptier stands. He looked up only to find Kristin, Mr. Stein, and another old gentleman sitting just beside the stadium tunnel entrance.

"We are rooting for you," Kristin yelled when he cast his sight towards the trio.

"Thank you." Zachary mouthed the words. He waved to his acquaintances before moving on towards the dressing room.

"You know Kristin Stein?" A voice sounded from behind him once he stepped into the tunnel.

Zachary turned around and noticed that the substitute goalkeeper had arrived behind him at some point. He was Grant Anderson, a tall Caucasian with blue eyes and a chiseled jaw. The combination of his blonde hair, tied into a ponytail, and booming voice made him seem intimidating.

"Yes," Zachary replied. "But just casually," he emphasized.

Grant observed him with narrowed, rigid, and cold eyes before saying: "I hope what you say is true. Otherwise. Hmmm." He harrumphed before continuing to the dressing room.

"Is old Grant giving you a hard time?" Ole Selnæs inquired. He'd come up to him right after the goalkeeper left.

"Nope. He was just saying hi," Zachary replied honestly. He had not taken Grant's words seriously. Thoughts about the match were what occupied his mind at that moment. He wouldn't bother about the ravings of a teenager before his first game.

"That's great." Ole patted the back of his shoulder. "Keep your head in the game. I'm sure the coach will give you an opportunity today." He gave Zachary a thumbs up before continuing to the dressing room.

Zachary found the dressing room in a state of chaos. Hoots, hollers, and laughter sounded back and forth through the air, ricocheting off the lockers like metal bullets. Most of the players were slowly putting on their white t-shirts and black shots. That was the official home jersey of team Rosenborg.

"Zach," Mushaga, the only other black fellow in the room, called out to him after seeing Zachary standing by the entrance. He was the player with an afro haircut. The coach had named him as one of the forwards for the game.

"Your jersey is there," he said, pointing to one of the hooks beside a locker. He seemed like a friendly person to Zachary.

"Thank you," Zachary said before picking up the jersey. Since Zachary was not yet officially on the team, he received a numberless jersey for that match.

Coach Johansen and his assistant soon came in. The room fell into silence. The Rosenborg under-19s, dressed in their full jerseys, turned their focus on to the coach.

"We'll play the 4:5:1 formation…" He started explaining the tactics right away while inscribing the squad on the whiteboard fixed to the wall.

Goalkeeper; Even Barli.

--

The center-backs; Simen Wangberg, Espen Schmitz.

The right-back; Ulrik Balstad. Left-back; Christoffer Aasbak.

--

Central-midfielders (Defensive); Ole Selnæs, Fredrik Midtsjö.

Central-midfielder (Attacking); Gjermund Asen.

Right-wingers; Jonas Svensson. Left-winger; Markus Henriksen.

--

Forward; Mushaga Bakenga.

In a few minutes, the coach expounded on the formation and tactics for the first half. The team would play with four defenders, five midfielders, and a single forward. Coach Johansen intended to shut down every passing opportunity of the opposition. Thus, the players would attack and defend together like a pack of wolves.

Zachary was left on the bench together with Grant, Emil, and Jonas. The other three players seemed unhappy about it. However, Zachary was different. It was his first game with the club. He wasn't expecting to be in the starting line-up for the game in the first place.

With his mind at ease, Zachary left the dressing room and headed to the technical area to watch the start of the game. He had to analyze every moment of play to search for opportunities he could exploit when he joined the game as a substitute.

The two teams didn't keep the fans waiting for long.

At exactly 3:45 PM of that Tuesday, two armies of eleven walked onto the green to pitch war in the way of civilized societies.

The match between Rosenborg U19 versus Viking U19 was finally starting.

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