The scoreboard clocked 90+2.
1-1.
Girona had clawed their way back from the dead. But the game wasn't over.
Rio Lance stood near the center circle, his chest heaving like a broken accordion. The Stamina Potion he'd chugged earlier was wearing off, leaving behind a burn in his lungs that felt like he was inhaling broken glass.
Fuck, I'm tired, Rio thought, wiping sweat from his eyes.
Hand_Of_King: Tired? You are eighteen! I played three games a week on cocaine and pizza! Run, you lazy snail!
Total_Football_14: Ignore him. Look at the spacing, Rio. Atlético is rattled. They are angry. An angry team makes mistakes.
Rio heard the heavy, wheezing breaths of Axel Witsel nearby. He heard Mario Hermoso screaming obscenities at his midfield. He heard the panicked shouts of "Mark him! Mark the fast one!"
They were scared. Of him.
The ball bounced loose in the midfield. Aleix Garcia, the Girona captain, threw his body into a tackle against Koke.
The ball squirted free.
It rolled into the open green space on the left wing.
Rio didn't need a command. His legs moved before his brain signed the permission slip. He ignited the engines.
Witsel saw it happening. The Belgian defender tried to turn, his boots digging into the turf, but it looked like he was moving in slow motion.
Rio just kicked the ball twenty yards ahead into the empty space and gave chase.
"Catch me!" Rio gritted out through clenched teeth.
The wind roared in his ears. He was a blur of red and white. He bypassed Witsel instantly. The crowd rose to their feet, a wave of noise crashing down onto the pitch.
I'm through, Rio realized. I can win this.
But as he sprinted toward the penalty box, he saw the final boss.
Stefan Savic. The Montenegrin center-back. He was running directly at Rio's path.
Savic's eyes were cold. He didn't care about the ball. He knew he was the last man.
The_Phenomenon_9: He's going to kill you, kid. Jump!
Rio saw the shoulder drop. Savic wasn't tackling; he was body-checking.
Rio had a choice. Slow down and try to cut inside? Or take the hit?
I'm not stopping.
Rio braced himself. It felt like running into a brick wall. Savic slammed into Rio's side, sending him flying off the pitch. Rio tumbled across the grass, crashing into the photographer's pit.
TWEET! TWEET!
The referee sprinted over, red card in hand.
Rio lay on his back, staring at the stadium lights, gasping for air. His ribs screamed in protest.
"You okay, kid?" a photographer asked, looking terrified.
Rio gave a shaky thumbs up. "Just... resting."
Hand_Of_King: A Red Card! Yes! He sacrificed himself!
On the sideline, Michel was going ballistic. He was screaming at the fourth official, veins popping in his neck.
"That's assault! That's not football!"
But Diego Simeone, the Atlético coach, stood with his arms crossed, dressed in all black. He gave Savic a small nod as the defender walked off. A professional foul. He took the red card to save the point.
The free kick came to nothing. The whistle blew for full time.
FULL TIME: Girona 1 - 1 Atlético Madrid
Rio pulled himself up from the photographer's pit and limped onto the pitch. He felt like he'd been run over by a truck. Mateo ran over, grabbing him in a bear hug.
"We survived!" Mateo yelled, his face beaming. "We drew against Atlético! That's basically a win!"
"My ribs," Rio groaned. "I think Savic left his signature on my lung."
"Worth it!" Mateo laughed. "Did you see Simeone's face? He looked like he wanted to murder someone. Probably you."
Rio looked over at the Atlético bench. Simeone was indeed staring at him. The intense Argentine manager locked eyes with Rio for a second.
He just gave a barely perceptible nod.
Respect, Rio thought. Or a threat. Probably a threat.
They walked toward the tunnel. The fans were chanting Rio's name again. It wasn't the loudest chant, but it was there.
Zizou_5: You changed the game, Rio. The assist. The run that caused the red card. You were chaos incarnate.
Total_Football_14: But look at your stats, Rio. Look at the pass completion. 40%. You ran fast, but you lost the ball six times. You are a weapon, but a blunt one.
Rio knew Cruyff was right. He checked his post-match rating on the System.
[Match Rating: 6.8]
[Highlights: 1 Assist, 1 Red Card Drawn]
[Lowlights: 1 Yellow Card, 6 Possession Losses]
He was effective, but messy. Inside the locker room, the mood was electric. A draw against a giant kept their dreams alive.
Michel walked into the center of the room. He looked exhausted. His tie was undone, his hair messy.
"Listen to me," Michel said, his voice raspy. "Today, you fought. Today, you didn't play pretty. But you had cojones."
He looked directly at Rio, who was icing his side.
"Lance," Michel said.
The room went quiet.
"You gave away the free kick that led to their goal," Michel said sternly.
Rio flinched. "I know, Coach. I'm sorry."
"But," Michel continued, a small smirk appearing. "You also fixed it. You made them scared. That... I can work with."
Michel turned to his assistant. "But teach him how to tackle properly. He looks like a drunk giraffe when he slides."
The locker room erupted in laughter. Rio hid his face in his hands, but he was smiling.
As the players started to shower and change, Rio sat by his locker. He pulled out his phone.
He had a notification from the chat.
Phantom_X: 1-1? Boring. I scored two today. Catch up, Speedster.
Rio rolled his eyes. This Wonderkid was annoying.
Rio_Lance: I played against Atlético Madrid. You played against kids. There's a difference.
Phantom_X: Levels are levels. By the way, I saw your heatmap. You run a lot of useless meters. Efficiency is key.
Rio put the phone down, feeling a mix of irritation and motivation.
"Who are you texting?" Mateo asked, buttoning his shirt. "Girlfriend?"
"Nemesis," Rio muttered. "Some kid who thinks he's King."
"Lamine Yamal?" Mateo joked.
Rio froze. "Why did you say that?"
"I don't know," Mateo shrugged. "He's the only kid our age who acts like King. Anyway, hurry up. Leo is outside. He said if you don't come out in five minutes, he's leaving with Dad."
Rio quickly dressed. His body was sore, his stats were low, but his spirit was high.
He walked out of the stadium into the cool night air. His dad, Carlos, was waiting by the car, looking like he'd won the lottery. Leo was leaning against the door, playing on his Switch.
"There he is!" Carlos shouted, hugging Rio so hard his ribs protested. "My warrior! Did you see Savic hit him? Bam! And Rio got up!"
"I didn't get up immediately, Dad," Rio winced.
Leo looked up from his game. He scanned Rio from head to toe.
[Scout's Eye Active]
[Target: Leo Lance]
[Status: Analyzing]
"You were sloppy," Leo said flatly.
Rio sighed. "Hello to you too."
"The assist was okay," Leo admitted, putting his Switch away. "But the touch before it? Garbage. You got lucky Witsel is ancient. If that was a real defender, you lose the ball."
"I got the assist, Leo," Rio argued, opening the car door. "Results matter."
"Process matters more," Leo countered, sliding into the backseat. "But... the way you ran at the end? When you took the hit?"
Rio looked back at his brother.
Leo looked out the window, hiding a small smile. "That was kinda cool. You looked like you wanted to die for the badge. Dad was crying."
"I was not crying!" Carlos protested from the driver's seat, wiping his eyes. "It was allergies!"
Rio grinned.
"So," Rio said as the car started. "You start training tomorrow with the U16s. You ready to run?"
Leo groaned, sliding down in his seat. "Don't remind me. I bought new boots. They hurt my feet. Why do footballers do this? It's torture."
"It's glory," Rio said, looking out at the passing streetlights.
"It's cardio," Leo muttered. "And cardio is the enemy."
The_Phenomenon_9: The little brother is funny. But he is right. Your touch was garbage. Tomorrow, we fix it.
Rio_Lance: Can I have a day off? Just one?
Hand_Of_King: Day off? HA! You want to be a legend? Legends don't sleep. Legends dream of the ball. Now, ask your father to stop at the pizza place. I am living vicariously through you, and I crave pepperoni.
Rio laughed out loud.
"What's funny?" his dad asked.
"Nothing," Rio said, leaning his head back. "Just... can we get pizza?"
"Pizza for the champion!" Carlos roared. "Of course!"
Rio closed his eyes. His body was broken. His rival was taunting him. His coaches were ghosts. His brother was a lazy genius.
But as the car drove through the streets of Girona, Rio Lance felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt ready for tomorrow.