The morning sun hit the Man of the Match pin sitting on Rio's shelf, making it sparkle like a diamond. Rio lay in bed for a few minutes just staring at it.
It wasn't a dream, he thought, a goofy smile spreading across his face. I actually scored!
He finally rolled out of bed, his body aching in places he didn't know existed. His ribs were bruised from the block, his shins were tender, but he felt light as a feather.
He went downstairs.
"The hero descends!" his father, Carlos, boomed from the table. He was reading the local newspaper, Diari de Girona. On the front page, there was a blurry photo of Rio shushing the crowd.
The headline read: THE UNLIKELY SAVIOR: ACADEMY ROOKIE STUNS BETIS.
"Look at this!" Carlos held up the paper, his eyes shining. "They call you 'The Unlikely Savior'! My son! I'm going to frame this. I'm going to buy ten copies!"
"Dad, calm down," Rio laughed, grabbing a piece of toast. "It was one goal. And it was mostly luck."
"Luck is for losers who make excuses," his dad declared.
"Winners call it skill."
Sofia, his sister, looked up from her phone. "My friends are asking if you're single. I told them you sleep with a nightlight."
"I do not!" Rio protested, blushing.
"Ignore them," his mom said, placing a mountain of eggs on his plate. "Eat. You are too skinny to be famous."
As Rio shoveled eggs into his mouth, the door to the room under the stairs creaked open. Leo walked out, looking like a zombie in sweatpants. He scratched his messy hair, poured himself a glass of orange juice, and leaned against the counter, watching Rio.
"So," Leo said, his voice raspy from sleep. "I saw the contract. Three thousand euros a month?"
Rio nodded. "Yeah. Base salary."
"And you got a bonus for the goal?"
"Five hundred euros."
Leo took a sip of juice. He looked thoughtful. "So, let me get this straight. You ran around for ten minutes, fell over, the ball hit your shin, you shushed some people, and they paid you five hundred euros?"
"Hey!" Rio frowned. "It was a tactical volley! And I ran really fast!"
Leo smirked. "It looked easy. Like, ridiculously easy. If they pay that much for accidental goals, imagine what they'd pay for actual skill."
Rio rolled his eyes. "It's harder than it looks, Leo. The pressure is insane."
Leo finished his juice and set the glass. "I want to come with you."
Rio paused mid-chew.
"What?"
"To training," Leo said, shrugging. "I want to see if it's actually hard, or if you're just dramatic. Plus... if I can make three grand a month just for kicking a ball, maybe I can buy that new gaming PC setup I want."
Rio stared at his brother. The motivation was pure greed and laziness, but hey, it was motivation.
"Fine," Rio said. "But you can't interfere. You have to stay on the side pitch. Michel will kill me if you distract the First Team."
"Deal."
An hour later, they arrived at the La Vinya training complex. The security guard, who usually asked for Rio's ID, waved him through with a big grin.
"Great goal, kid!"
Rio felt a swell of pride. He parked his dad's old car—which he was allowed to borrow now that he was a 'star'—and they walked toward the pitches.
"Go over there," Rio pointed to the empty U18 pitch adjacent to the main field. "Just... don't break anything."
Leo wandered off, hands in his pockets, looking bored. Rio jogged onto the main pitch where the First Team was gathering.
The vibe was different today. There was respect. When Rio walked into the circle, Stuani nodded at him. Aleix Garcia gave him a high-five.
Even Michel, the intense coach, gave him a brief thumbs-up before blowing his whistle.
"Recovery session for the starters!" Michel barked. "Reserves and subs, high intensity! Rio, you played ten minutes, so you run with the reserves. Let's go!"
Rio started jogging. His legs felt heavy, but his mind was sharp.
System, he thought. Open Chat.
[Chat Room Active]
Rio_Lance: Morning guys. I'm training. I need to fix my dribbling. That run against Betis... I almost lost the ball three times.
Dinho_Magic_10: Yes! The dribble! It is not about feet, Rio. It is about the hips! You need to loosen up!
Rio was running through cones, trying to keep the ball close.
Dinho_Magic_10: Listen to me. Imagine there is music. A samba beat. Dum-da-da-dum. When you touch the ball, caress it. Don't kick it. Pet it like a dog.
Rio tried to imagine the beat. Dum-da-da-dum.
He softened his ankle. He nudged the ball gently with the outside of his boot, then snapped it back with the inside.
He tripped over the ball and stumbled.
Hand_Of_King: Graceful as a falling fridge.
Dinho_Magic_10: Patience! You are thinking too much! Don't look at your feet! Look at the horizon!
While Rio was struggling with the cones, sweating buckets, he heard a commotion from the sideline.
He looked over.
On the adjacent pitch, Coach Martinez (the U18 manager) was standing with his clipboard, staring at something.
That 'something' was Leo.
Leo had found a bag of stray balls. He was standing in the center circle of the empty pitch, wearing his grey hoodie and jeans.
He kicked a ball high into the air. It went up thirty meters.
Leo didn't move his feet. He just stood there, looking at his phone while the ball fell. At the last second, he extended his right foot.
The ball landed on his toe and died instantly. It stuck like it was made of Velcro.
Then, Leo flicked it up, juggled it twice with his knees, balanced it on his neck, and let it roll down his back to his heel, flicking it back over his head.
All while checking a notification on his screen.
Coach Martinez dropped his pen.
"Who is that kid?" Martinez shouted, looking around.
Michel, who had been watching his own team, turned around. He saw Leo take a ball, place it on the penalty spot, and casually curl it into the top corner of the empty net. He didn't run up. He just walked up and swung. The technique was effortless. Pure whip.
Michel frowned. He blew his whistle.
"Pause!"
The First Team stopped. Everyone looked at the U18 pitch.
Michel walked over to the fence separating the fields. "Martinez!"
"Coach!" Martinez ran over.
"Who is the civilian?" Michel pointed at Leo.
"I don't know!" Martinez stammered. "He came with Rio. I think it's his brother."
Rio, seeing the commotion, jogged over. "Coach? Is everything okay? Is Leo causing trouble? I can tell him to leave!"
Michel looked at Rio. Then he looked at Leo, who was now trying to hit the crossbar from the halfway line (and missing by inches).
"That's your brother?" Michel asked.
"Yeah," Rio sighed. "He's lazy. He just came to watch."
"Lazy?" Michel narrowed his eyes. "He has a touch smoother than half my midfield. How old is he?"
"Fifteen."
Michel turned to Martinez. "Sign him."
Rio's jaw dropped. "What?"
"You heard me," Michel said, not taking his eyes off Leo. "We need talent in the academy. I don't care if he's lazy. If he can control a ball like that in jeans, imagine what he can do in shorts. Martinez, go get the paperwork. Do not let him leave the complex without a youth contract."
Rio stood there, stunned.
He had worked for three yearsto get a contract. He had to unlock a magical system and train with ghosts just to get a bench spot.
Leo had juggled a ball for five minutes while checking Instagram, and he just got signed.
Total_Football_14: Life is unfair, Rio. Talent is not distributed equally. Your brother is a prodigy. You are a worker. Do not be jealous. Use him.
Hand_Of_King: Hahaha! This is hilarious! The lazy brother gets signed! Look at Rio's face! He looks like he swallowed a lemon!
Martinez ran over to Leo. Rio watched as the coach started talking excitedly. Leo shrugged, looked at the contract paper Martinez pulled out of a folder (he always carried spares), and seemed to ask, "Do I get paid?"
Martinez nodded vigorously. Leo signed. Just like that.
Rio walked back to his cones, shaking his head.
I have to work harder, Rio told himself, a fire lighting up in his chest. If Leo joins the academy, he's going to catch up to me in a month. I can't let my little brother be better than me.
Dinho_Magic_10: Good! Use the anger! Now, back to the samba! Inside, outside, roll! Feel the rhythm!
Rio gritted his teeth and attacked the cones again.
Inside. Outside. Roll.
He stumbled less this time. The movement felt a tiny bit smoother.
[System Notification!]
[Dribbling Proficiency Increased: 58 -> 59]
[XP Gained: 50]
Suddenly, the chat window flashed a bright, blinding gold. A trumpet sound echoed in Rio's mind.
[System Alert: New Legend Approaching]
Rio stopped, panting. "Another one?"
[User 'The_Phenomenon_9' has joined the chat.]
Hand_Of_King: Finally! The real Ronaldo! Not the Portuguese robot, but the Brazilian tank!
Dinho_Magic_10: R9! My brother! The haircut is terrible in here too, I hope?
The_Phenomenon_9: Hey guys. Good to be here. I was napping. Is this the kid? Rio?
Rio stared at the name. Ronaldo Nazario. The Phenomenon. The greatest striker to ever live. The man who made defenders look like children before his knees betrayed him.
Rio_Lance: Mr. Ronaldo! It's an honor! I watched all your clips! The step-overs! The goals!
The_Phenomenon_9: Relax, kid. I saw your goal against Betis. It was... efficient. Ugly, but efficient. You remind me of myself when I was playing on the beach with a broken toe. Just pure chaos.
King_10: Welcome, R9. We are trying to teach the boy not to trip over the ball. It is a difficult task.
The_Phenomenon_9: I see. Well, speed is good. I like speed. But speed without power is just running away. Rio, tell me. When you run at a defender, are you scared they will hit you?
Rio_Lance: Yeah. A little. They are big.
The_Phenomenon_9: That is the problem. You run around them. I ran through them. You need to become a tank, kid. A Ferrari tank.
Rio smiled. A Ferrari tank.
On the sideline, Leo was walking toward him, spinning a contract on his finger.
"Hey," Leo called out. "They offered me 500 a month to play for the U16s. It's not three grand, but it buys a lot of skins."
Rio wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked at his brother—the genius who played for money. He looked at the chat—the legends who played for glory. And he looked at his own feet—the tools he had to sharpen every single day.
"Congrats, Leo," Rio grinned. "But don't think I'm going to make it easy for you. I'm Level 3 now."
Leo raised an eyebrow. "Level 3? You playing an RPG?"
"Something like that," Rio winked. "Race you to the car?"
"You're on."
They sprinted across the parking lot. Rio, with his 92 Speed, should have won easily. But Leo, moving with a strange, gliding efficiency, kept up with him effortlessly until the very end.
Rio touched the car handle first, gasping for air. Leo arrived a second later, barely breathing hard.
He's dangerous, Rio thought, looking at his brother. Really dangerous.
The_Phenomenon_9: I like the brother. He runs like he has oil in his joints. You run like you have gravel. We have work to do, Rio.
Rio opened the car door. "Let's go home, pro player."
"After you, pro player," Leo smirked.