The pain didn't start in his legs. It started in the center of his chest. It felt like a hand made of ice had reached inside his ribcage and squeezed his heart into a pulp.
THUMP. THUMP... sssh.
Rio Valdes collapsed. His knees hit the grass first, followed by his face. The metallic taste of blood and the smell of wet earth filled his mouth. Around him, the roar of the Gelora Bung Karno Stadium—filled with scouts, agents, and hopeful parents—warped into a distorted, static buzz.
This was the Final Selection for the U-17 National Team. The golden ticket out of the slums. And Rio was dying in the mud.
"Oi! Get up, trash!"
A boot nudged his shoulder. Roughly. Rio tried to lift his head. His vision was blurring at the edges, turning into gray static. Standing over him was Bagas, the star striker of the selection camp. The coach's favorite. The son of a wealthy official who arrived in a limousine while Rio arrived on a bus. Bagas looked down at Rio with a sneer, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Don't pretend to be dead just because I dribbled past you," Bagas laughed, his voice echoing strangely in Rio's fading ears. "Go back to the port, rat. You don't belong here."
Rio wanted to stand up. He wanted to punch that smug grin off Bagas's face. But his limbs were heavy. Gravity felt ten times stronger. His heart gave one last, pathetic flutter. Is this it? Rio thought, panic finally setting in. I die here? Without saving Mom? Without becoming... anyone?
The world went black. The noise of the stadium vanished. Total silence. Rio was floating in a void.
Then, a light appeared. Not a heavenly white light, but a cold, digital blue. A semi-transparent holographic screen manifested in front of his retina.
[SYSTEM CRITICAL ERROR][Diagnosis: Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy][Heart Status: CEASED]
Rio stared at the floating text. He tried to speak, but he had no mouth.
[Life Expectancy: 00 Years, 00 Months, 00 Days, 00 Hours, 00 Minutes, 15 Seconds]
Fifteen seconds. He was fifteen seconds away from becoming a corpse.
[OFFER INITIATED][Do you want to continue the game?][The System offers a trade: Your 'Future Potential' for 'Current Survival'.][Price: Your soul will be bound to the Lifespan Gacha.][Rules: Win to Live. Lose to Die.]
[ YES ] / [ NO ]
A countdown appeared. 10... 9... 8...
Rio looked at the [YES] button. He remembered the debt collectors banging on his plywood door. He remembered his mother crying over unpaid bills. He remembered Bagas's laugh. He didn't fear death. He feared dying as a loser. He feared dying as "trash."
I will not end like this.
With the last spark of his consciousness, Rio slammed his mental finger on [YES].
ZING!
A shockwave of golden lightning exploded in his chest. The pain didn't disappear—it transformed. It turned into power. The stopped heart was jump-started by a surge of unnatural energy. It didn't beat like a human heart anymore. It hummed like an engine.
[CONTRACT ACCEPTED][Welcome, Host Rio Valdes.][Lifespan Shop: UNLOCKED][Starter Pack Received: 1x Legendary Skill Spin]
A giant roulette wheel appeared in the void. It spun so fast it blurred. Faces of legends flashed by. Pele... Maradona... Cruyff... Zidane...
[STOP.] The wheel clicked to a halt. An image of a bald Brazilian legend with massive thighs appeared.
[CONGRATULATIONS!][Skill Acquired: The Cannon (Roberto Carlos)][Grade: S][Effect: Increases Shot Power by 200%. Ignore Air Resistance. High Injury Risk.][Cost to Activate: 7 Days of Lifespan]
Seven days, Rio thought. A week of life for one kick. He grinned in the darkness. Cheap.
Reality.Minute 89:55.
The referee was sprinting toward Rio, whistle in his mouth, hand reaching for his pocket to call the medics. "Stop the game! Medical!" Bagas shouted, stepping back from Rio's body, looking disgusted rather than concerned. "He's having a seizure!"
Suddenly, a hand shot up from the grass and grabbed Bagas's ankle. Bagas froze. He looked down. Rio Valdes was looking up at him. But Rio's eyes... they weren't the eyes of a dying boy. They were glowing with a faint, predatory blue intensity.
Rio stood up. He didn't stumble. He exploded upwards, landing firmly on his feet like a machine rebooting. The referee stopped in his tracks, confused. He lowered his whistle.
The game technically hadn't stopped yet. The goalkeeper, seeing Rio stand up, panicked under pressure from an opposing striker. He kicked the ball blindly toward the midfield. A high, desperate clearance.
Rio looked up. The ball was arcing through the air, heading toward the center circle. Distance to goal: 45 meters. Defenders between him and the goal: 4. Time remaining: Seconds.
"Play on!" Rio's voice boomed, startling the referee.
Rio trapped the dropping ball with his chest. Thud. It dropped to his feet perfectly.
[Skill Available: The Cannon][Pay 7 Days of Life?]
Rio looked at the goal. He saw the doubt in everyone's eyes. Pay it, Rio commanded.
[Payment Accepted.][Remaining Lifespan: 364 Days, 23 Hours, 59 Minutes.]
Energy flooded into Rio's left thigh. It felt like magma coursing through his veins. His muscles expanded, fibers tightening like steel cables under his skin. The veins in his leg bulged visible through his socks.
He didn't dribble. He didn't pass. From the center circle, he stepped back. One step. Two steps. Three long strides.
"He's shooting from there?!" The coach on the sideline dropped his clipboard. "Is he crazy?"
Bagas laughed, realizing what Rio was doing. "Idiot! That's forty meters! You can't—"
Rio planted his right foot. The grass exploded under the impact. He swung his left leg. It wasn't a kick. It was a detonation.
BOOM.
The sound was louder than anything the stadium had heard all day. It sounded like a cannon firing. The ball deformed upon impact. It launched like a missile. It didn't arc. It didn't dip. It flew in a straight, violent line. It tore through the air, creating a visible sonic distortion.
Bagas ducked instinctively as the ball screamed past his head. The goalkeeper didn't even see it. He only heard the sound.
WHAM!
The ball smashed into the top corner of the net. The force was so great that the net didn't just ripple—it snapped. The ball tore through the mesh and embedded itself in the advertising board behind the goal, spinning and smoking.
GOAL.
Silence. Absolute, terrified silence. The scouts dropped their pens. The agents stood up, mouths open. Bagas fell onto his butt, staring at the torn net, his face pale.
Rio stood alone in the center circle. Smoke seemed to rise from his left boot. He felt his lifespan shorten. He felt a week of his existence vanish into the ether. But as the referee blew the final whistle, signaling the end of the match, Rio smiled.
He was alive. And the game had just begun.