Chapter 1: First Encounter

In a small village far from the colossal cities, a young boy with a distant look was running with headphones around his neck. He stopped as the signal faded. Frustrated, he muttered, ‘Must be the wind messing with it.’

He hit the device a few times, but only made it sound worse.

He turned it off completely. ‘It’s okay, I already finished the last lap. I should head back now.’

Just as he was about to turn around, he noticed a group of kids yelling and shouting across the road below a massive tree.

His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the oldest boy among them standing in one place, and in the next second, he was gone. Then he suddenly appeared again in mid-air, catching a flying ball-like object.

’Am I seeing things?’ he thought as he blinked. Then he looked at the younger kids. ‘And no one looked surprised.‘

Under the tree, a young boy wore a blue jumpsuit. His big brown eyes matched his hair. As he stepped back from the tree, he picked a few rocks and put them inside his handmade ball, and said with sparkled eyes.

“I think it’s ready! Should we try it again? The wind is strong, but I think it will work this time…”

He was interrupted by a younger boy who lisped many of his words: “Lyan, throw it to me! Throw it to me!”

Ryan smiled, then he loosened his grip around the ball and tossed it gently toward him.

“Zam, catch it!”

After a few passes, one of the kids threw the ball a bit too hard, and it ended up stuck in the branches of the tree. The kids started shouting at him.

“Not again, Dell! Why did you throw it so high?”

Dell froze in place, his eyes fixed on the ground.

Ryan gave him a faint smile and mouthed, "Dell! It's okay," while moving his lips slowly and deliberately.

At that moment, Ryan was secretly glad; he thought, ‘Finally! Now we can go back home—we always end up distracted whenever we start playing.

“Let’s head back, and tomorrow I—”

Zam interrupted, “Bud da ball is up dhere, candu dump again—”

Ryan quickly cut him off and covered Zam's mouth, saying, “Alright, alright, I’ll get it. You don’t need to embarrass me like that.”

Dell, who had been quiet and hesitant, said, “Ryan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Ryan patted his head gently and said, “Don’t worry. We’re just playing. I’ll get it for you guys.”

He stared at the ball stuck in the branches, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and shifted his weight, bending his knees to gather power.

As his muscles coiled, he quickly vanished again before their eyes and suddenly appeared two meters above the ground.

He extended his right hand, trying to catch the ball, but only managed to touch the lower branch. He jumped several more times, but each attempt was in vain.

Finally, he said, “Let’s try another way. Rock, get the rope from the emergency box.”

Rock adjusted his glasses, then carefully retrieved the emergency box. He handed Ryan the rope, eyeing the tree like it might bite.

Ryan took hold of the rope, coiling it in his hands before throwing it at the ball. Each time he threw it, the rope fell short. He took a deep breath and narrowed his focus this time on the branch.

Just as his arm was about to swing forward, a voice cut through the air.

“You’re doing it the wrong way.”

Ryan turned around to see a boy about his age, dressed in a neat black training suit that contrasted with his pale skin and white hair. He stood out easily, as most village children had sun-kissed, wheat-colored skin from growing up in the warm weather.

Ryan’s eyebrows lifted. “Who are you? You are not from our village.”

Rock walked closer to Ryan. “I heard from my father that a rich kid was coming to our village this week.”

“Who are you calling a kid?”

The boy snapped, his tone sharp with irritation. He crossed his arms and added, “Well, I’m not obligated to tell you who I am. And I’m not that rich… although, compared to you, maybe I am.” A smirk played on his lips.

Ryan's ears seemed to filter most of what was said. He was focused on one thing. He grinned back and went on with what he was doing. “That’s unfair. I thought you were the same age as me. Guess I was wrong,” he teased. Then, tilting his head curiously, he asked, “How old are you, then?”

The boy flinched, glancing away without answering, looking slightly embarrassed.

Zam, who had been glaring at the foreign boy, finally spoke up, “Layan, hully up aleeady. Do something!”

The foreign boy looked puzzled, trying to make sense of Zam’s words, then he turned to Ryan, gesturing with an open hand, he said, “Give me the rope. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Ryan looked at him curiously. He handed him the rope and watched closely.

The boy tied a small loop at one end, held the other end tightly, then swung the looped side in a circular motion before tossing it at the branch. The loop hooked perfectly around the branch.

All the kids stared, amazed—especially Ryan, whose eyes lit up. “That was awesome!” Then he glanced at the branch.

“Uh… but we were trying to knock the ball down from the tree—not tie it to the branch.”

The boy paused for a second, and a quick realization hit him. ‘Wait, what?’

He furrowed his eyebrows, then pointed at the ball in surprise.

“You did all that for this voodoo ball?” he asked, giving them an odd look, but no one seemed to get what he said.

He waved his hand while walking toward the tree, then added, “Nevermind, I just thought you wanted to climb it.” He sighed, then straightened his shoulders and put his hand on the tree, feeling its texture, then said, “Alright, that’s even easier.”

Suddenly, he rose a few inches above the ground, then launched himself toward the tree and skillfully struck it with one leg, slamming into it. The tree shook violently, as if struck by a powerful force, leaving a small crack on its surface. The ball dropped to the ground, and birds scattered into the air, startled by the impact.

The kids’ jaws dropped, completely stunned. They gathered around him, begging, “How did you do that? Please teach us! We want to do it like you!”.

Ryan’s wide eyes sparkled with admiration as he looked at the foreign boy and asked, “Wow, how did you do that?”

The foreign boy smirked and replied, “Well, can’t you tell? I’m a candidate. This is the least I can do.”

Ryan thought, ‘A candidate?’ But he brushed it off and asked, “What’s that move called? Do you have a name for it?”

The boy raised an eyebrow, thinking, ‘Did he just ignore me? Anyways… Should I have a name for it?’

He coughed, trying to suppress a laugh, then looked back at Ryan and said in a serious tone, “Of course, it has a name. It’s... the Strike of Thunderbolt.”

Ryan’s eyes lit up with excitement. ‘Strike of Thunderbolt—awesome name,’ he thought.

The boy’s prideful face began to slip. He took a step back, then turned away and said, “I have to go now.”

“Wait—”

Ryan called out, but the boy was already walking off, not giving him a chance to say more. He watched him disappear into the distance.

He thought, ‘Would I ever see him again? I didn’t even know his name.’

He sighed, grabbed the ball, and gave it to Zam, and said, “Here you go, Zam. Let’s head back now.” Then he looked at the other kids while stepping back and said,” Aren’t you all hungry?”

Zam’s voice responded immediately, “Yes, of couth!”

A smile was drawn on Ryan’s lips as he suddenly ran to the fields, racing the other kids back to their home.

Meanwhile, after running for about ten minutes, the foreign boy finally stopped, leaning over to catch his breath. A short laugh escaped him—bitter and sharp—though it hurt to breathe. Then he laughed harder, clutching his side, saying, “Are those kids dumb? Thunderbolt, my foot.”

He sat down, took off his shoes, and winced at the sight of his swollen, bruised leg.

He looked down and thought, ‘At least I didn’t look weak,’ he muttered, trying to stand while holding his injured foot. Hopping on one leg, he grumbled, “Ahhh, it hurts, it hurts! Damn you, my ego…”.

With a wince, he glanced back toward the village, a smirk tugging at his lips. ‘Didn’t think I’d find someone like that in a backwater place like this... He doesn’t seem to know anything about the competition, things might not be as boring as I thought.’