The science of the human body is absolute. When lactic acid builds up, muscles fail. When oxygen is depleted, the brain shuts down.
But the Lifespan Gacha System defies science.
[SYSTEM EFFECT: ADRENALINE OVERLOAD][Time Remaining: 14:59][Warning: Physical Collapse Imminent After Timer Ends]
A sudden, electric jolt surged through the veins of the ten remaining Indonesian players. It felt like necromancy.
Bambang Pamungkas, who a moment ago looked like a corpse, suddenly snapped his head up. His pupils dilated. The throbbing pain in his bruised ribs didn't vanish—it was simply deleted from his brain's priority list.
"Why... why do I feel so light?" Bambang whispered, looking at his hands.
It wasn't healing. It was borrowing energy from the future. They were burning their life force to fuel their legs.
"Don't ask!" Rio screamed, sprinting past him with the ball. "Just run! We have fifteen minutes before we die!"
France was confused. Jean-Luc Pierre frowned. They were finished. Why are they sprinting?
"Press them!" Jean-Luc ordered. "They are bluffing!"
But it wasn't a bluff. It was a death march.
Minute 68. Rio Valdes didn't pass. He drove straight through the midfield. Two French players tried to close him down. Usually, Rio would look for a pass. Today, he lowered his shoulder and smashed through the gap.
[STRENGTH: BOOSTED][AGILITY: BOOSTED]
He reached the edge of the box and unleashed a thunderous shot. BOOM! The French keeper barely tipped it over the bar.
The Indonesian crowd (the few hundred who traveled) roared. The momentum had shifted violently.
"Corner kick!" Rio barked. "Everyone up! Even the defenders! Leave no one back!"
It was suicide tactics. If France countered, the goal was empty. But Rio didn't care. 1-2 or 1-5 meant the same thing: Zero Points. They needed a draw.
Minute 75. The game turned into a basketball match. End-to-end running. France attacked -> Rio intercepted -> Indonesia countered.
Without Adrian Vance to organize the structure, the formation was pure chaos. It was instinct over tactics. Bambang was everywhere. He was tackling, sprinting, screaming. The "Mad Dog" was finally living up to his new nickname.
Jean-Luc was getting annoyed. "Die already!" he roared, shoving Bambang aside.
But Bambang scrambled back up instantly, eyes wide and manic. "Not today, Titan!"
Minute 77. The timer in Rio's vision ticked down. [01:00 remaining].
Rio had the ball on the right flank. He was isolated. Jean-Luc was closing in to crush him.
Rio looked for options. Bambang was in the box, marked by two giants. The midfielders were too far back.
I have to do it myself, Rio thought.
But then, he saw it. A tiny disturbance in the grass on the far post. A shadow moving against the flow of play.
Ole Romeny.
The Ghost had done nothing for 30 minutes. He had been intentionally standing still, lowering his [Aggro] to zero, recharging his [Vanishing Point].
Rio didn't cross high. High balls were food for French defenders. Rio drove a low, hard cross across the face of the goal. It was a "worm-burner"—skipping violently on the grass.
"Clear it!" The French keeper shouted.
The French defender swung his leg to clear. But the ball took a wicked bounce on a divot and skipped over his foot.
It fell perfectly to the back post.
Ole was there. But so was the second French center-back.
Ole couldn't shoot. He was too slight. The defender would block him. So Ole didn't shoot. With a genius touch, Ole cushioned the ball backward, into the chaotic center of the penalty box.
"Who is he passing to?!"
Into the chaos charged Bambang.
The former star didn't think about technique. He didn't think about looking cool. He saw the ball, and he saw a wall of French bodies.
He threw himself. A diving header? No. A face-plant. He launched his body like a torpedo.
CRASH!
Bambang's face connected with the ball at the exact same moment a French boot connected with his head.
Blood sprayed. But the ball flew.
It squeezed between the keeper's legs. It rolled... slowly... tantalizingly... And crossed the line.
GOAL.
INDONESIA 2 - 2 FRANCE
The stadium exploded.
Bambang didn't get up to celebrate. He lay face down in the grass, motionless.
"Bambang!" Rio sprinted over.
Bambang rolled over. His nose was clearly broken, shifted to the side, blood pouring down his chin. But he was grinning. A wide, toothy, bloody grin.
"Did... did you see that?" Bambang wheezed through the blood. "I... I bit them."
Rio grabbed Bambang's jersey and hauled him up, hugging the bloody striker. "You crazy bastard. You did it."
But the celebration was cut short by a sound only Rio could hear.
Ding.
[SYSTEM WARNING][Adrenaline Overload: ENDED][CRASH STATE: INITIATED]
Rio felt the strength drain from his legs instantly. It was like someone pulled the plug on a machine. Around him, his teammates stumbled. Their knees buckled. The magic potion was gone, and the bill had arrived.
Minute 79. Score: 2-2. Time remaining: 11 minutes + Stoppage Time. Condition: Zombie Mode.
Jean-Luc Pierre picked up the ball from the net again. This time, he wasn't angry. He was a demon.
"You made a mistake," Jean-Luc said to Rio as they reset. "You woke me up. Then you annoyed me. Now... you simply have to pay."
The final 10 minutes weren't a match. They were a siege.
"Shell Formation!" Rio croaked, but his voice was weak.
Indonesia couldn't run anymore. They stood in the box, creating a human wall of flesh and bone.
Minute 85: Jean-Luc hit the post again. Minute 88: The Indonesian keeper made a double save, dislocating his finger in the process. He popped it back in and kept playing, tears streaming down his face.
Minute 90+4. Last play of the game.
France corner kick. Jean-Luc Pierre stood in the box. He towered over everyone.
The ball flew in. Jean-Luc jumped. He jumped so high his knees were level with Bambang's head. He powered a header down.
Rio was standing on the goal line. He saw the ball coming. He couldn't use his hands—that would be a penalty and a red card. He couldn't kick it—it was too high.
He did the only thing he could do. He turned his chest toward the ball. Directly over his bionic heart.
[CRITICAL WARNING][IMPACT RISK: HEART FAILURE][DO NOT ENGAGE]
Shut up, Rio thought.
THUD.
The ball smashed into Rio's sternum. The impact was like a sledgehammer. It stopped his heart for a split second. The System interface flickered red and black. Rio was blasted backward into the net.
But the ball...
The ball bounced out.
Fweeeet! Fweeeeeet! FWEEEEET!
The referee blew the final whistle.
FULL TIME.INDONESIA 2 - 2 FRANCE
Rio lay tangled in the goal net, staring up at the stadium lights. His chest burned. He couldn't breathe. But he saw the scoreboard through the mesh.
Draw.1 Point.
They had stolen a point from the Gods.
Darkness crept into the edges of his vision. Mission... accomplished.
Rio Valdes closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.