Rio woke up to the smell of rain and the digital hum of a screen floating inches above his face.
[LIFESPAN: 89 Days, 14 Hours, 20 Minutes]
The numbers were red, glowing with a malevolent light that cut through the gray gloom of the hospital room. Rio blinked, rubbing his eyes, hoping the hallucination would dissolve like morning mist.
It didn't. The seconds ticked down with a terrifying, rhythmic precision.
:59... :58... :57...
It wasn't a dream. The nightmare was real. And it was counting.
"Stop staring at it like a lover," a raspy voice drifted from the window. "It's not going to kiss you back."
Specter was leaning against the windowsill, looking out at the rain-slicked hospital parking lot. Even in the daylight, the ghost was unsettlingly translucent, looking like a smudge on a camera lens. He flicked a ghostly cigar, sending ash drifting through the air that vanished before it hit the floor.
"You slept for ten hours," the ghost said, turning to face Rio. His blue eyes bore into Rio's soul. "That's ten hours wasted. You're dying, remember? You don't have the luxury of sleeping in."
Rio sat up.
Pain.
It wasn't the sharp pain of the cardiac arrest. It was a dull, heavy pressure, as if a jagged stone were lodged inside his ribcage. His heart felt heavy, struggling to push blood through the thickened walls of his ventricles.
"Good morning to you too, Coach," Rio rasped, his voice dry. He touched his chest. "I still feel... broken."
"You are broken," Specter corrected, pushing off the wall and floating toward the bed. "The System isn't a magical potion, Rio. It's a battery. It's forcing your heart to beat by burning your future time as fuel. But the engine? The engine is still damaged."
Specter pointed a glowing finger at the floating system panel.
"You can't rely on your body anymore. If you try to run like a normal player, you'll collapse in five minutes. You need weapons. You need to cheat."
Rio swallowed hard. "Cheat?"
"Open the Shop."
Rio's hand trembled as he reached out. He tapped the [SHOP] icon on the holographic screen.
The interface shifted, accompanied by the sound of grinding gears and slot machine chimes—a grotesque carnival noise in the quiet room. A large, colorful roulette wheel appeared. But instead of requiring gold or credits, the cost was displayed in dripping, blood-red text.
[GACHA BANNER: BEGINNER'S LUCK]Cost: 10 Days of Lifespan. Grand Prize: [A-Rank Skill: Cannon Shot] Common Prize: [E-Rank Passive: Minor Stamina Boost] [SPIN NOW]
"Ten days..." Rio whispered, the air catching in his throat. "That's a tenth of what I have left. Ten days of sunrises. Ten days with my mother."
"Scared?" Specter sneered, his face inches from Rio's. "Greatness isn't cheap. You want to play in the U-19 tryouts this afternoon? You think your F-Rank body can handle ninety minutes? You'll be dead before the warmup ends."
Rio clenched his fists on the white bedsheet until his knuckles turned white.
The ghost was right. Without a system skill to compensate for his failing heart, he was just a walking corpse. He needed a miracle, even if he had to bleed for it.
"Fine," Rio gritted his teeth. "Let's do it."
He reached out and pressed the [SPIN - 10 DAYS] button.
Zzzzt!
It didn't feel like a button press. It felt like a bite.
A sharp, freezing cold shot through his chest, stealing his breath. Rio gasped, clutching his heart. It felt as if an invisible syringe had been inserted into his soul, drawing out the essence of his vitality. He felt physically lighter, colder, weaker. A chunk of his existence had just been deleted.
On the screen, the timer plummeted. 89 Days... -> 79 Days.
The roulette wheel spun wildly. Lights flashed, reflecting in Rio's terrified eyes. Blue... Green... Gold...
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The wheel slowed down. Rio watched breathlessly as the needle passed a shimmering Gold item [Legendary Pass]—his heart skipped a beat—and clicked over one more slot to settle on a dull Bronze icon.
Clunk.
[CONGRATULATIONS!][YOU OBTAINED: FLASH STEP (Rank D)]
Skill Description: Instantly accelerates the user's movement speed by 200% for 2 seconds. Cooldown: 5 Minutes. Side Effect: Moderate strain on leg muscles. Severe stamina drain.
"Flash Step?" Rio frowned, reading the text. "Rank D? I spent ten days of my life for a D-Rank skill?"
"Don't be ungrateful," Specter scoffed. "For a cripple like you, that skill is a lifeline. Two seconds of explosive speed is enough to leave any defender in the dust. It's a burst skill. Perfect for someone who can't run, but needs to kill in a single moment."
Specter checked his imaginary watch.
"Now, get dressed. You have a waiver to sign."
The Hospital Administration Desk.
The doctor stared at Rio as if he were looking at a madman.
"You want to leave?" the doctor asked, holding Rio's chart. "Mr. Valdes, you died yesterday. Your heart is a ticking time bomb. If you walk out those doors, you are committing suicide."
Rio stood by the desk, dressed in his worn-out tracksuit. He looked pale. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. But his gaze was steady.
"I know the risks," Rio said quietly. "Give me the form."
The doctor hesitated, then slammed a clipboard onto the counter. It was an AMA (Against Medical Advice) form. A legal document absolving the hospital of responsibility when Rio inevitably dropped dead.
"Sign here," the doctor said coldly. "And here. And don't expect us to send an ambulance when you collapse on the pitch."
Rio signed. His signature was jagged but firm. Rio Valdes.
He handed the clipboard back. "Thank you for saving my life yesterday, Doc. Now I'm going to use it."
The National Training Center. 2:00 PM.
The air was thick with humidity and testosterone.
Dozens of young players in bright orange bibs were warming up on the pristine grass. They moved with sharp, aggressive energy, their shouts echoing across the field. Scouts sat in the stands, holding binoculars and clipboards, looking for the next star.
Rio stood by the chain-link fence. He gripped the metal mesh with cold fingers.
His heart was fluttering—thump-thump-pause-thump—a constant reminder of his fragility. He wasn't supposed to be here. He belonged in a bed.
"Hey, look who's back from the dead!"
A mocking voice cut through the air. Rio turned.
A tall, muscular player with bleached blond hair was walking toward him, flanked by two sycophantic teammates. It was Kevin, the striker who had taken Rio's spot on the starting lineup immediately after his collapse.
Kevin smirked, kicking a ball casually from his left foot to his right. "I heard you had a heart attack, Rio. Shouldn't you be in a wheelchair? This is a football field, not a hospice."
A few other players laughed. The sound was sharp and cruel.
"I'm here to play, Kevin," Rio said. His voice was steady, but he had to lean slightly against the fence to keep his legs from shaking.
"Play?" Kevin laughed louder, stepping into Rio's personal space. He loomed over him, radiating health and strength. "Coach already cut you from the list. You're finished. Broken goods. Go home and take your meds before you traumatize the kids again."
"Let him try," Specter's voice whispered in Rio's ear, cold as ice. "Humiliate him. Show me what you bought with your life."
Rio pushed off the fence. He walked past Kevin, ignoring him completely. He stepped onto the grass.
The Head Coach, Coach Bima, blew his whistle sharply and stormed over. His face was a mask of furious disbelief.
"Valdes! What are you doing here?! Get off the field before you kill yourself! I saw the medical report!"
"One chance, Coach," Rio said, staring Bima in the eye. The desperation in his gaze stopped Bima in his tracks. "Give me one agonizing minute against Kevin. One-on-one. If I can't score, I'll leave and never come back."
"Rio, you could die," Bima whispered, looking at the boy's pale skin.
"I'm already dead if I don't play," Rio replied. He pulled the AMA form from his pocket and held it out. "I signed the waiver. If I drop, it's on me."
Bima looked at the paper, then at Rio. He sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Fine. One minute. Kevin, defend the box."
Kevin grinned, cracking his knuckles. He stepped in front of Rio, lowering his center of gravity. "This will be easy. Don't cry when I break your ankles, Heart Attack Boy."
The field went silent. Every player stopped to watch. The scouts in the stands lowered their binoculars.
The whistle blew. Tweet!
Rio dribbled forward slowly. His legs felt heavy, like they were moving through water. His breathing was shallow. He was physically weaker than before—the bypass kept him moving, but it didn't give him strength.
Kevin saw the hesitation. He saw the weakness.
"Too slow!" Kevin shouted.
He lunged instantly, aggressive and fast, aiming to tackle the ball and end the humiliation early.
Now.
Time seemed to slow down. Rio focused his mind on the interface burning in his retina.
[ACTIVATE SKILL: FLASH STEP]
WHOOSH!
The sound wasn't in the air; it was inside Rio's muscles.
It felt like a high-voltage cable had been snapped inside his legs. Faint blue sparks crackled around his ankles for a split second. The world blurred into streaks of color. For exactly two seconds, the laws of physics seemed to lose their hold on him.
He tapped the ball to the right.
Before Kevin could even blink, Rio was gone.
He didn't just run past Kevin; he vanished from Kevin's field of vision. It was a burst of acceleration so violent it tore up the turf beneath his feet.
Kevin tackled nothing but empty air. His momentum carried him forward until he lost his balance and fell face-first into the dirt with a heavy, humiliating thud.
Rio was already five meters past him.
The goal was open. The goalkeeper was frozen, eyes wide, paralyzed by the sudden burst of speed.
Rio swung his leg. He didn't have a shooting skill, but he had years of muscle memory. He smashed the ball with everything he had left.
BAM!
The ball rocketed off his boot, soaring past the keeper's outstretched hand and slamming into the top corner of the net.
The net rippled violently.
Rio stood panting, his hand clutching his chest.
The skill ended. The crash hit him instantly. His legs turned to jelly, and his lungs burned as if he had swallowed fire. His heart hammered dangerously fast—thump-thump-thump—skipping beats in a terrifying rhythm.
But he was standing.
[SYSTEM ALERT][GOAL SCORED (Practice Mode)][REWARD: +2 Hours Lifespan]
Specter floated beside him, blowing smoke into Kevin's shocked, dirt-covered face.
"Not bad, kid. Not bad at all," the ghost murmured. "But you used 10 days to earn back 2 hours. The math is against us."
Rio wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. He looked down at Kevin, who was staring up at him in disbelief, and then at the Coach, whose jaw had dropped.
Rio forced a smile. It was a weak, painful smile, but it was genuine.
"Who's the broken goods now?" Rio whispered.