It was a slow grey morning the next day.

Zachary started his day, as planned, by going outdoors for a run. His flatmates remained committed to their words and accompanied him during the exercise. The entire time, they struggled to keep up with his pace as he alternated between jogging and sprinting on the empty streets of Trondheim.

It was still 6 AM. The streets were devoid enough of traffic to bring about any interruptions to their run.

Zachary was training his endurance while orienting himself to running outdoors in the temperate weather. He would sprint for 100 meters and follow up with a jog for a half a kilometer as he led his flatmates around Trondheim City’s streets. He was slowly acclimating himself to running during soccer matches in the harsh outdoor weather of Trondheim.

A soccer match was more like a couple of very—fast but short sprints—interspersed with slow jogging or walking. The players never ran at a constant speed during games. By copying the system’s fitness missions, Zachary had tailored his endurance training to match the ever-changing pace of matches. He ran at such alternating speeds for 45 minutes, three times a week, to keep his body in top shape.

“Let’s sprint the rest of the way,” Zachary hollered to his flatmates as they neared the NF training grounds after the long run. He didn’t wait for their responses before sprinting away.

The cold autumn humidity of Trondheim made him feel sticky. Sweat rolled down his face in thick, salty beads. His clothes, slick with perspiration, clung to his skin.

His heart throbbed inside his chest, and his skin felt like it was roasting. He began bouncing—slightly as he sprinted, which wore him out faster. But, he didn’t slow down or break his run.

Perhaps a year prior, he would have balked at the idea of running so far and fast. However, at that moment, he relished the prospect. He didn’t intend to break out of his training routine even for a single moment.

He was strict on himself and had never missed a day of practice over the course of his year at the academy. Consistency was everything in sports training. He was finally beginning to reap the fruits of all his hard work. He had started getting faster and less tired after his sprinting and jogging routines.

“Not this again,” Paul Otterson complained after Zachary bolted away from them. The Swede’s rasping throat was as parched as that of a lizard in the desert sun. His head bobbed loosely from side to side with each footfall.

“Where does Zachary get all that stamina?” Kendrick cut in, not the least bit willing to increase his pace. He was already running on a five-percent battery. His energy reserves were pretty close to running out. At least, that’s what he thought.

“Let’s persevere and sprint for the last minute,” Kasongo stammered in between gasps of breath. His feet pounded on the tarmac with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. His graceful springing steps from five miles earlier had long disappeared.

Zachary’s flatmates were all feeling spent after matching his quick pace for forty-five minutes. However, they all endured and ended the morning run with a 200-meter sprint—until they reached the academy training grounds.

Zachary took only a minute to stabilize his breathing even after alternating between sprinting and jogging for nearly an hour. To him, the exercise was just the typical morning run, a small step on his journey to improve his physique and become a great player.

He had realized that humans were creatures of habit. The more they practiced something, the more natural it became. He had long gotten used to such training routines over the course of the year. Moreover, he had taken a physical conditioning elixir before the training. He had plenty of energy reserves stored within his body.

His flatmates, on the other hand, were in a sorry state. They lay supine on the moistened artificial grass of the NF training ground, with their arms and legs spread out wide, gasping for breath like fish taken out of water. They looked exhausted beyond belief.

However, Zachary had no plans to go easy on them. His three flatmates had agreed to let him become their instructor for personalized training. He intended to fulfill his role.

“Wake up, fellas,” he said, chugging down some water from his water bottle. “We need to start the agility drills and individual ball work exercises,” he shouted, imitating the husky voice of Coach Johansen.

He looked at his Asahi watch and noticed that it was almost seven. Twilight had begun to melt away. The reddish-orange rays of a majestic sunrise had started seeping over the horizon. The light itself seemed to pour out from a molten sun.

“Just give us a few minutes,” Kasongo said, his voice coming out quieter and in a slow monotone.

“Suit yourselves.” Zachary shrugged. “I’ll go ahead and begin my training before my muscles cool down. You can take your time resting. Rest is good for improving your ball skills.” He mumbled, feigning anger.

“Okay, we are with you,” Paul said, jumping up from the grass. The rest followed suit.

“Great. That’s the spirit.” Zachary smiled. “Let’s set up the cones and do some drills before the coaches arrive. Kasongo, get the training ladders.”

The four boys spent the next hour going through several agility enhancement exercises. They started with forward-running high-knee drills through the ladders placed in the center of the pitch. They sprinted with their knees lifting high through the ladder, landing in each space between rungs. The exercise would help improve their foot coordination and running speed with the ball.

They followed that up with lateral running—side-to-side drills. Afterward, they ran the cones and ended the session with shuttle-runs across the pitch.

Only then did they settle down to eat their packed breakfast, awaiting the arrival of Coach Johansen and the other players. It was a Saturday, so there were no classes. The only thing they had scheduled for that day was soccer training with Coach Johansen.

“Kendrick,” Zachary called out to the goalkeeper once he finished his breakfast. “Can we put in some set-piece practice?” He asked. “We still have about 40 minutes before everyone else gets here.”

The coaches and other players usually arrived at about 9 AM for the weekend sessions. Zachary had always been present at the training ground alone during early morning hours. That day was the only exception.

“No problem.” Kendrick smiled. “Let’s set-up the wall of training mannequins.” He seemed to have recovered from his fatigue.