Dawit woke up with a dull ache in his legs but a sharper excitement in his chest. Yesterday's training had been grueling, yes—but it had also been a proving ground. A statement. Now, the real test was whether he could build on it.
The streets of Rotterdam buzzed quietly outside his window as dawn broke. He dressed quickly, slipping into his Feyenoord training gear once again, the crest a familiar weight on his chest. The system chimed softly.
"Day 2: Feyenoord Academy Training. Intensity Level: Elite. Mental Challenge: Elevated."
Dawit's heart quickened. The system never lied: today would push him harder.
At the training ground, the atmosphere was different. Word had spread about the new kid from Alexandria, and eyes were watching. Some curious. Some skeptical. Others openly competitive.
Daan, the slick-haired midfielder from yesterday, was already warming up near the goalposts. He glanced at Dawit and smirked, then turned to his teammates and muttered something.
Hearing this, Dawit tightened his grip on his water bottle but didn't reply. He knew from experience that this place was a lion's den any sign of weakness or distraction, and the pride would circle.
Coach Hendrik Maas appeared again, clipboard in hand, a cold breeze ruffling his jacket.
"Today," Maas began, "we push you beyond your limits. No favors. No second chances. You'll be split into two squads for scrimmages, but there's a catch. The winning side gets extra recovery time tomorrow. The losing side doesn't."
A murmur ran through the group.
Maas's eyes locked on Dawit. "You're captaining team red. Lead well."
Dawit's pulse surged. Captain. Responsibility.
He gathered his squad quickly, scanning faces that were mostly unfamiliar but all hungry.
Among them was Joris, a wiry winger with quick feet but a quick temper. Then Ruben, a tall defender who eyed Dawit like a rival already. And Sven, a quiet goalkeeper with steely eyes.
"Listen up," Dawit said, voice steady but loud enough to carry. "This isn't just about individual skill. We win as a team. We communicate, cover each other, and keep calm. Let's do this."
Some heads nodded, others looked skeptical. That was fine.
The match started fast, fiercer than yesterday. Team red fought to establish control, but the opposing team pressed aggressively, exploiting every gap.
Early on, Joris charged down the wing, weaving past defenders and cutting inside, only to be tackled hard near the corner flag. The whistle blew—foul.
Joris got up, rubbing his side, eyes flashing fire. "They want to play dirty," he growled.
Dawit jogged over, placing a hand on Joris's shoulder. "Keep your cool. Let's not give them what they want."
Minutes later, Ruben challenged Dawit during a loose ball battle in midfield, pushing him roughly off the ball.
"You're lucky I'm not taking you out," Ruben sneered.
Dawit met his gaze without flinching. "You'll have to try harder."
The crowd of players watching from the sidelines murmured, sensing the tension.
Midway through the game, Dawit spotted a dangerous overlap on the left. Without hesitation, he sprinted back, intercepting a through ball meant for the winger, then spun and released a sharp pass to Sven, who quickly launched a counterattack.
"Good read," Sven said as the ball sped forward.
Dawit nodded. Leadership was more than just commands—it was action.
Coach Maas stood silently, but every now and then, his eyes flickered with approval.
The match tightened in the final minutes. Both teams exhausted, pushing every limit. Then, with just two minutes left, Dawit made a critical mistake a misjudged pass that allowed the opposing striker a clean shot on goal.
The ball hit the net.
A hush fell over the field.
Dawit's stomach twisted. The weight of the moment pressed on him.
Maas blew the whistle.
"Game over."
Team red had lost.
The players lowered their heads, sweat mixing with frustration. Dawit felt the sting keenly, but he refused to let it break him.
Coach Maas approached, expression unreadable.
"You showed leadership," Maas said slowly. "But leadership also means learning from failure. That mistake cost you the game. Don't let it happen again."
Dawit swallowed, nodding. "Yes, coach."
As the group dispersed, Daan walked by Dawit, offering a curt nod.
"Not bad for a rookie," he said quietly.
Dawit returned the nod. "Not bad coming from you either."
The locker room was thick with silence, the kind that hung heavily after a bitter loss. Players peeled off their sweat-soaked jerseys, some slamming lockers shut in frustration. Dawit sat on the bench, towel over his shoulders, staring at his cleats.
The mistake replayed in his mind the pass that had gone astray, the open chance it created for the opposition's striker. It felt like a crack in everything he was building.
Joris plopped down beside him, still breathing hard. "Hey," he said, voice rough but sincere. "You led us out there. Not many could do that on day two."
Dawit looked up, surprised by the genuine tone. "Thanks. But I cost us the game."
Joris shook his head. "Everyone makes mistakes. The question is what you do next."
Before Dawit could respond, Coach Maas entered, clipboard tucked under his arm. The room quieted instantly.
"Listen up," Maas said, voice firm but not harsh. "Losing is part of this game. You'll learn more from losses than wins if you let yourself. Dawit, you showed grit out there. But leadership is about more than grit it's about discipline and composure."
He scanned the room, eyes sharp.
"From now on, every mistake will have a consequence. And every good decision will be rewarded. You're not just players anymore you're professionals in training. I expect you to act like it."
Maas's words hit hard, but Dawit felt a spark of motivation light up inside him. This wasn't punishment it was a challenge.
After practice, Dawit stayed behind with Joris and Sven. They gathered near the benches, the fading light casting long shadows across the field.
"We need to tighten up," Sven said, voice steady. "If we want to beat those guys tomorrow, every pass, every tackle counts."
Joris nodded. "And no more mistakes like today."
Dawit cracked a small smile. "Agreed. I'm not letting this slide."
They talked late into the evening, making plans for extra training, working on passing drills, communication, positioning.
As Dawit walked home under the dim streetlights, the cold air stinging his face, his mind raced. He could feel the weight of expectations growing heavier, but also the thrill of the challenge.
This was no longer just a dream. It was a battle for his future.
And he was ready.