The silence in the National Training Center was heavier than the humid Jakarta air. It pressed down on the pitch like a physical weight, suffocating the chatter of the players and the scratching pens of the scouts.
Rio stood on the penalty spot, his chest heaving violently.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His heart was beating a frantic, irregular rhythm against his ribs—a bird trying to escape a cage. The goal he had just scored—a rocket into the top corner that defied the laws of physics for a boy with his medical chart—was still replaying in everyone's minds.
Even Kevin, the bleach-blond striker who claimed to be the ace, was still lying face-down in the dirt. He hadn't moved since Rio had vanished past him. He was staring blankly at the grass blades, his worldview shattered.
"Valdes."
The Head Coach, Coach Bima, broke the silence. His voice was low, but it carried across the field like thunder.
He marched over to Rio, his boots crunching on the dry grass. His face was unreadable—a mask of stone. He looked at Rio's pale, sweat-drenched face, then at the ball nestling in the net, and finally at the medical bracelet on Rio's wrist.
"That burst of speed..." Coach Bima narrowed his eyes, leaning in close so only Rio could hear. "I played for the National Team for fifteen years. I have never seen an Indonesian player move like that. It wasn't just fast. It was... unnatural."
"I told you, Coach," Rio gasped, trying to steady his breathing.
The side effect of [Flash Step] was kicking in with a vengeance. It felt as if someone had poured boiling water into his calves. His muscle fibers were twitching uncontrollably, screaming in protest against the supernatural force that had just propelled them.
"I can play," Rio lied, forcing his legs to stop shaking.
"You can play for two seconds," Coach Bima countered sharply. He reached out and grabbed Rio's wrist, checking the pulse. "Look at you. You're trembling. Your skin is cold. If I put you in a ninety-minute game, you'll be dead by halftime. Do you think I want a corpse on my resume?"
Rio grit his teeth. He pulled his hand away.
He knew the coach was right. The [SOUL BALL] system gave him skills, but it didn't magically fix the structural defect of his heart. It was like putting a jet engine on a bicycle frame—eventually, the frame would snap.
"I don't need ninety minutes," Rio bluffed, his eyes burning with a desperate intensity. "Give me fifteen."
Bima paused. "Fifteen?"
"The last fifteen minutes of the game," Rio whispered. "When the enemy defenders are tired. When their lungs are burning and their focus is slipping. Put me in then. I won't be a player, Coach. I'll be a weapon. A knife in the dark."
Coach Bima stared at him. He was a pragmatic man. He was under immense pressure from the Federation to qualify for the Asian Championship. The team lacked a killer instinct. They lacked a spark.
And here, standing in front of him, was a broken boy who held a miracle behind his back.
"A Joker card, huh?" Coach Bima muttered, rubbing his temples. He looked at the scouts in the stands, who were frantically making calls.
"Fine," Bima sighed, the decision weighing heavily on him. "You're in the squad. But only as a substitute. And you sign a Liability Waiver tonight."
Bima pointed a finger at Rio's chest.
"If you collapse, if your heart stops, the team isn't responsible. You die on your own terms. We wash our hands of it. Do you understand?"
"Deal," Rio said instantly.
[SYSTEM ALERT][QUEST COMPLETED: JOIN THE SQUAD][REWARD: +3 Days Lifespan]
Rio let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The tension in his shoulders released, replaced by a wave of exhaustion.
He had bought himself three more days. But the cost... the cost was just beginning.
The Dormitory. 10:00 PM.
The team dormitory was a stark contrast to the sterile hospital. It smelled of stale socks, damp towels, and testosterone. Rio's room was small, a concrete box with two bunk beds and a single flickering lightbulb.
Rio collapsed onto his bottom bunk. The adrenaline had worn off hours ago, leaving him feeling hollowed out. His legs throbbed with a dull ache.
He summoned the interface. It glowed eerily in the semi-darkness.
[CURRENT LIFESPAN: 79 Days, 16 Hours, 10 Minutes]
"Don't celebrate yet," a raspy voice floated from the top bunk.
Rio looked up. Specter was lying upside down on the ceiling—literally defying gravity—reading a sports magazine from 1998. The ghost flicked a page with a translucent finger.
"You spent 10 days to gamble for a skill," Specter analyzed coldly. "You earned back 3 days and 2 hours today. Do the math, kid. You're operating at a massive loss. This is bad business. You're bleeding time faster than you're earning it."
Rio stared at the red timer hovering in the air. The seconds ticked away, mocking him.
:59... :58... :57...
"I know," Rio whispered, turning his face to the wall. "The math doesn't work. At this rate, I'll run out of time before the tournament even starts. I'm just delaying the inevitable."
"Exactly," Specter said. He floated down from the ceiling, landing soundlessly on the floor. He paced around the small room, trailing blue smoke. "You're playing a losing game. Small wins won't save you. You need a Jackpot."
The ghost stopped in front of Rio, his expression serious for the first time.
"This is my unfinished business, too, Rio. I didn't choose you just to watch you die in a qualifier match. Check your Quest Log. The System has updated."
Rio frowned. He sat up and tapped the [QUEST] tab on the holographic screen. Usually, it was empty, displaying only daily tasks.
But now, a massive, gold-bordered notification was pulsing with a heartbeat-like rhythm.
He pressed it.
The room was suddenly bathed in golden light. Text scrolled across his vision, grand and terrifying.
[MAIN QUEST UNLOCKED: THE ROAD TO IMMORTALITY]
[OBJECTIVE] Win the FIFA U-20 World Cup. [TIME LIMIT] 2 Years.
[GRAND REWARD]Item: [Heart of the Dragon] Effect: Complete Cardiac Reconstruction. Cures Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy permanently. Grants S-Rank Stamina.
[FAILURE PENALTY] Immediate Termination of Host.
Rio's eyes widened. His mouth went dry.
"Win... the World Cup?" Rio choked out a laugh. "Are you crazy? This is Indonesia! We have never even qualified for the World Cup! We are ranked 150th in the world! And the time limit is 2 years? My lifespan is only 79 days!"
"That's why you have to keep winning," Specter said, pointing his glowing cigar at Rio's chest. "Listen to me closely."
The ghost leaned in, his face inches from Rio's. The smell of tobacco and ozone was overpowering.
"The System feeds on victory. Every match you win extends your life by a week. Every goal buys you days. If you chain your victories together... if you become a monster that refuses to lose... you can survive long enough to reach that final."
Specter's eyes burned with blue fire.
"This isn't just about scoring goals anymore, Rio. You have to drag this mediocre team to the top of the world. You have to carry them on your broken back. Because if the team loses... you die. If you draw... you die."
Rio looked at his hands. They were shaking.
The weight of the task was crushing. It wasn't just a mountain; it was a cliff face. He was a dying boy, in a team of underdogs, tasked with conquering giants like Brazil, France, and Germany.
It was impossible. It was a delusion.
But then, a strange feeling bubbled up in his chest.
It started in his stomach and rose to his throat. It wasn't fear. It wasn't despair.
It was excitement.
For the first time since his diagnosis, Rio saw a path. A narrow, treacherous path, but a path nonetheless. A path to a cure.
"World Champion, huh?" Rio smirked. The wild light returned to his eyes—the eyes of a gambler who had just pushed all his chips to the center of the table. "If the reward is a new heart... then I guess I have no choice."
Knock, knock.
The sudden sound made the holographic screen flicker and vanish.
The door creaked open.
A bulky figure stood in the doorway, blocking the hallway light. It was Kevin.
The striker held an ice pack to his cheek where he had face-planted earlier. His jersey was stained with dirt. He looked at Rio, his expression a complicated mix of lingering anger and a new, begrudging respect.
"Coach wants us in the meeting room," Kevin grunted, refusing to make eye contact. "Emergency briefing."
"At this hour?" Rio asked, swinging his legs off the bed. "What's going on?"
Kevin's face turned grim. He looked at Rio, and for a second, the bully mask slipped, revealing genuine anxiety.
"We have a practice match tomorrow. The Federation set it up last minute to test the new squad."
"Against who?" Rio stood up, wincing as his calves protested.
Kevin swallowed hard.
"The South Korean U-19 Academy Team. They're visiting Jakarta for a friendly tour."
Specter let out a low, sharp whistle.
"Koreans?" the ghost muttered, his amusement vanishing. "The Tigers of Asia? They run like machines. They have endless stamina and military-grade discipline. For a team like Indonesia that relies on individual flair... this is going to be a bloodbath."
Rio felt a chill run down his spine. South Korea was a giant in Asian football. They were World Cup regulars. They were monsters.
Kevin turned to leave. "Don't be late, Flash. We're going to need whatever magic trick you pulled today."
As the door closed, Rio summoned the System one last time. A new notification popped up, red and urgent.
[NEW SIDE QUEST AVAILABLE]
[QUEST: DEFEAT THE TIGER]Objective: Score a goal against the South Korean team. Difficulty: Hard. Reward: +5 Days Lifespan + [1x Premium Gacha Ticket]. Penalty for Failure: None (Except humiliation).
"Premium Ticket?" Rio whispered.
"That guarantees a skill Ranked C or higher," Specter explained, his greed showing. "No lifespan cost to open it. That is a rare item, kid. You need that."
Rio grabbed his team jacket. He zipped it up, hiding the tremors in his hands.
"Let's go, Specter," Rio said, his voice steady. "I need those tickets. I'm going tiger hunting."