The afternoon sun beat down on the National Training Center like a physical hammer, turning the air into a shimmering mirage of heat and tension. The humidity was thick enough to taste—a metallic tang of ozone and exhaust fumes.
This was the final friendly match before the U-20 Squad flew out for the qualifiers. It was the last chance to prove the roster wasn't a mistake.
Rio stood in the center circle, the number 7 jersey clinging to his back with sweat. Beneath the fabric, strapped tightly to his chest, was Guntur's unforgiving leash—the heart monitor. It felt cold against his feverish skin, a constant reminder that his existence was being audited in real-time.
He summoned the System interface. It flickered in the glare.
[CURRENT LIFESPAN: 39 Days, 01 Hour]
[ITEM ACTIVE: LIFE SAVER PILL (Rank D)]Status: System Bypass cost reduced by 10%.Duration: 11 Hours remaining.
He was running on fumes and a 7-day pill that made his slow, painful death slightly cheaper. He had 39 days left. A loss today meant a 30-day penalty, leaving him with 9 days. Single digits.
He needed a win. He needed life.
Guntur Wijaya watched from the sideline, his tablet in hand, his finger hovering over the medical alert button. He was ready to pull the plug if Rio's heart rate exceeded 185 BPM.
Rio activated his [Vulture's Eye]. The world desaturated. He didn't see players; he saw calculations. He saw fatigue bars, mental lapses, and the perfect angles of attack.
THE UNSPOKEN AGREEMENT
Bambang, the captain, approached Rio just before the referee's whistle. His face was devoid of the usual fury or arrogance. It was replaced by a cold, calculating focus.
"Valdes," Bambang said, his voice low, a conspiratorial growl. "We both need a win bonus. You need the time. I need the goals to secure the captaincy before we board the plane."
He glanced at the opposing central defender, a tough, physical player named Arif from a rival academy.
"Arif is strong, but he turns like a truck. I want three balls behind Arif. No slow build-up. You give me the math, and I will finish the equation."
Rio nodded. He respected this version of Bambang. This was the cold logic of survival. Bambang had finally accepted the pact: Rio is the brain, Bambang is the weapon.
"First goal," Rio replied, his voice flat and dry. "Minute 20. Diagonal pass from the right flank, 40 meters. I need you to trust my line. Don't check your run."
Bambang sneered, but a flicker of excitement lit up his eyes. "I'll be there. Don't miss."
THE INVISIBLE WAR
KICK OFF.
Rio played the first half with excruciating control, fully embracing his role as the Invisible Playmaker. He did not dribble. He did not run forward into the box. He merely dictated the flow from the center circle, keeping the ball safe, conserving energy, and letting the Life Saver Pill quietly reduce the strain on his heart.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. His heart was steady at 140 BPM. Safe.
Minute 18.
The ball was on the right flank with the fullback, Andi. The opposing midfield shifted to press.
Rio jogged into the center pocket, fully aware that the humidity was already pushing his baseline heart rate towards 160 BPM.
He activated [Eagle Eye] (Active).
Zzzzt.
The 10-second vision snapped into place. The field turned into a blue grid. He saw the red vectors of the defenders moving too far to the left.
He saw the perfect trajectory: Andi to Rio. Rio to Bambang.
Rio called for the ball. Andi passed it quickly.
As the ball arrived, Rio didn't trap it. Trapping meant allowing the defense to reset. He took a single, controlled step and launched a deep, bending cross-field pass with the outside of his boot.
It was a pass learned from simulating the field hundreds of times in his mind: a low, driven diagonal that split the entire opposing midfield. It skimmed the grass, bypassing three defenders who were caught watching the ball instead of the runner.
The ball landed precisely in the path of the sprinting Bambang, exactly where they had discussed.
Bambang, who had started his run based purely on Rio's pre-match promise, met the ball in stride. He didn't have to slow down. He was one-on-one with the keeper.
He finished cleanly into the bottom corner. [1-0].
Bambang celebrated, running toward the corner flag. He didn't look at Rio. He looked at Guntur Wijaya in the stands, flexing his muscles. I am the weapon, his pose said.
[ASSIST BONUS: +2 Days Lifespan]
THE DANGEROUS CALM
The goal energized the young team, but the celebration did nothing for Rio's heart.
Minute 35.
Rio had successfully orchestrated a second goal through a short-range, intricate pass combination that unlocked the box. [2-0].
However, the heat was winning. Guntur's external monitor was merciless.
[CURRENT HEART RATE: 178 BPM]Status: Approaching Threshold.
Rio's body was reaching its physical limit. He was sweating profusely, his jersey clinging to him like a second skin, but his fatigue was internal. He was struggling to breathe deep enough to cool the internal engine. The cooling filament in his neck was working overtime, but the Jakarta sun was relentless.
"You need to slow down, Rio!" Specter warned, hovering anxiously. "The pill can't buy you eternal life. It just reduces the tax on your current earnings! You're redlining!"
Rio knew he had to reach halftime. He deliberately played two minutes of "cowardly" football—simple back passes, refusing to join the attack—to drop his heart rate below 170 BPM.
He was sacrificing goal chances for literal life. The crowd booed his passivity. He didn't care.
HALFTIME.
Guntur Wijaya met Rio at the tunnel entrance. He didn't speak to Coach Bima. He spoke only to the number 7.
"Your vision is undeniable, Valdes. Two assists. Flawless execution," Guntur admitted, holding the monitor out. "But look at this. 182 BPM. You touched the red line three times. You are operating on the edge of the collapse zone."
Guntur tapped the screen aggressively. "You are not a player, Valdes. You are a risk assessment. I need a guarantee for the second half. If you hit 185, I pull you. No arguments."
"The opponents are physically spent," Rio replied, his voice calm, betraying none of the internal turmoil ripping through his chest. "They will make mistakes. I will feast on their fatigue."
Rio was banking on his [Vulture's Eye] to win the second half, not his legs.
THE VULTURE FEEDS
The second half began with the opposing team attacking relentlessly, desperate to close the 2-0 gap. They played physically, leaving studs in tackles, trying to break the rhythm.
Minute 60.
The opponents pushed too high, committing men forward. Rio saw the break coming with [Eagle Eye].
A defender made a tired, lazy pass in midfield. Rio's [Vulture's Eye] instantly picked up the mental fatigue of the opponent—the slight drop in focus, the heavy shoulders.
Rio intercepted the pass effortlessly. He didn't run. He didn't need to.
Bambang screamed for the ball, seeing the open field.
Rio passed the ball precisely to Bambang, slicing through the tired defense. Bambang sprinted, rounded the keeper, and scored his hat-trick. [3-0].
Minute 88: The Final Test.
The game was won. The score was [4-1]. Rio had secured the victory and three assists.
But his internal clock was flashing red.
[CURRENT HEART RATE: 184 BPM]Status: Critical. 1 BPM to Limit.
Rio felt the familiar, crushing pressure in his chest. It felt like a belt tightening around his heart. He needed to survive the last two minutes without being subbed out or collapsing.
Guntur, seeing the red numbers on his tablet, was standing on the sideline, hand raised, ready to signal a substitution. He must pull me, or the stabilizer will auto-purchase and wipe out my life earnings.
Rio needed to look safe, even while dying.
Rio did the only thing he could: He performed a perfect optical illusion.
He stopped running. He stood perfectly still in the center circle. He spread his arms wide, demanding the ball from his defense. He stood with the calm, unwavering posture of a general overseeing a conquered field.
He forced his trembling body to project absolute control, using his mind to override the physical collapse. He slowed his breathing manually. In... Out... In... Out.
Coach Bima, seeing Rio stand tall and demand the ball in a moment of stress, lowered his hand. Valdes is exhausted, but he is in command.
Rio received the final pass. He didn't attack. He held the ball for thirty seconds, shielding it, letting the clock tick down, his heart rate spiking dangerously high from the tension alone.
He was gambling that the final whistle would sound before his heart reached 186 BPM.
Tweet! Tweet! TWEET!
The final whistle blew.
Rio immediately slumped to the ground, grabbing his chest as the Bypass system struggled to normalize the rhythm.
Guntur ran onto the field, not with the doctor, but straight to Rio.
"You are insane, Valdes," Guntur hissed, ripping the monitor off Rio's chest. "You ran the clock down at 184 BPM! You risked everything!"
Rio coughed, forcing a weak smile. "I risked the game, Pak Guntur. Not the win."
He had survived. He had won. And he had saved his insurance.
THE PROFIT AND THE FUTURE
Rio sat in the empty locker room, the familiar euphoria of life earned washing over him. The pain was fading, replaced by the sweet notification of profit.
[MATCH WON]REWARD: +7 Days Lifespan
[3 ASSISTS BONUS]REWARD: +6 Days Lifespan
[TOTAL GAIN: +13 DAYS]
[CURRENT LIFESPAN: 52 Days, 01 Hour]
He looked at Specter. "I survived the pill and the captain. What's next?"
Specter adjusted his spectral fedora, looking at the travel itinerary on the wall. "Next, we fly to the qualifier host nation. You are officially the core of the U-20 National Team."
The ghost grinned, his eyes glowing. "But first, you have a captain to confront. He's waiting for you outside, and he looks ready to kill... or kiss you. With Bambang, it's hard to tell."