The World Breaks Down
The morning after the Los Angeles Horns were carted out of the Golden Field Stadium like human wreckage, the world woke up to a new reality. The 21-0 victory was a statistical anomaly, a mere footnote. The headline was "Physical Destruction TKO."
Levi wasn't a player anymore; he was a phenomenon, a controversy, and a threat to the very structure of American football.
ESPN's First Take had already dedicated twelve straight hours to the debate. The dominant visual was a looping clip of Levi mimicking a bowling follow-through while eleven unconscious men lay scattered across the turf.
"This is not competition! This is premeditated assault with a weaponized body! We can't have the Human Tank in the league. He's going to bankrupt the NFL on long-term disability claims!" roared a panelist, his face beet red.
On the flip side, the youth demographic was ecstatic. #TackleMeICU and #STRIKE33 dominated global trending lists. Levi's highlights weren't just viral; they were instantly legendary, garnering millions of views per hour. The memes alone could fund a small country.
Levi himself scrolled through the chaos on his phone while eating a perfectly normal breakfast burrito. He was totally unbothered by the calls for his suspension or the analysis of his "bone density anomaly."
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Infamy Rating (Global) increased by +450%.]
[REWARD: Unlocked New Title: Gridiron Tyrant.]
"Gridiron Tyrant. Sounds about right," Levi muttered, taking a bite of his burrito. The new title granted no immediate stats, but the System description hinted at increased effectiveness against organized resistance.
The Diamond Test
Later that day, Levi was alone in the Gold Rush training facility's weight room.
The [Diamond Skin] skill upgrade felt different. His body no longer felt just hard; it felt dense, like refined plutonium encased in hardened steel. He wanted a field test that surpassed the previous "Nick Boss Shoulder Check" incident.
He walked over to the unused power-lifting equipment. He loaded the longest barbell with every plate available—a conservative estimate of 450kg and hoisted it overhead with a shrug. The weight was meaningless to his 1100% boosted Strength.
Levi positioned the barbell horizontally over his right thigh. He took a deep breath, focusing his intent on the System's passive defensive flow.
"Let's see how sharp this diamond is," he challenged the empty room.
He released the barbell.
DOOOOOOOM—!!!
The sound was less of a crash and more of a thunderclap. The reinforced rubber floor actually cracked where the barbell handles struck the ground.
The weight bar, a solid piece of specialized steel engineered to withstand hundreds of repetitions, was bent into a grotesque V shape across Levi's thigh. The barbell lay smoking slightly on the floor.
Levi didn't flinch. He didn't feel pressure, heat, or impact. He reached down and touched his uniform. Not even a crease.
"Excellent," he whispered. If a 450 kg weight bar bends before my skin tears, I am effectively bulletproof. The ICU warning is no longer a threat; it is a guarantee.
His phone buzzed. It was Coach Shannon, frantic.
"Levi! Get off the field! The League just issued a Special Integrity Review! They're sending a team of independent physicians and a special counsel to follow us to Seattle. They're looking for any reason to sideline you!"
The System pinged, confirming the threat.
[ALERT: 'World Authority' Malice Detected (NFL Commissioner's Office).]
[Plot Triggered: God Particle Protocol (High-Level Investigation).]
Levi smirked. "Tell them to bring the good microscopes, Coach. And maybe a few lawyers for the Seattle defensive line."
The Vultures' Vow
Seattle, Washington. The rain-swept training grounds of the Seattle Vultures.
The atmosphere was thick, not with rain, but with a visceral, collective hatred.
The Vultures were historically the league's most aggressive, most physically punishing, and arguably dirtiest team. Their philosophy was simple: Pain wins games.
Their star safety, Jamal "The Prez" Addy, a five-time Pro Bowler known for his illegal but rarely caught cheap shots, stood before his defense, radiating fury.
"Look at this!" Addy roared, projecting a slow-motion replay of Aaron Don being launched backward in Chapter 8 onto the wall. "That wasn't football! That was disrespect! That kid is making a mockery of every bone, every tear, every sacrifice we've made!"
Addy slammed his fist onto a steel table, making the lockers rattle.
"The League won't do a damn thing until half our stars are paralyzed. They talk about fines, investigations. We talk about revenge."
He produced a bag containing a handful of unregulated steel cleats—specifically designed for maximum traction and minimum mercy in wet conditions.
"He can't be beaten with speed. He can't be stopped with strength. But he's still got knees, boys. Next Sunday, Lumen Field is going to be the executioner's block. Forget the ball. Forget the scoreboard. The mission is clear: break the damn Tank!"
Eleven men roared in agreement. The Anti-Levi Alliance, hinted at in the System notification, was officially formed. They weren't playing for a win; they were playing for the soul of the league, ready to commit a televised act of career assassination.
Dr. Vance's Precaution
Back in San Francisco, Dr. Sophie Vance sat across from Levi in his lavish, high-rise apartment. She wasn't just a team doctor; she was a world-class biomechanical specialist. And she was scared.
"Levi, listen to me," she pleaded, her gold-rimmed glasses slipping slightly down her nose. "What happened to the Horns was physically impossible. I'm running simulations on your bone density against the impact force... the results defy known physics."
She pointed to his newly delivered security safe. "I took the liberty of getting you a new code: 0-3-3-I-C-U. Funny, right?" she tried to lighten the mood. "But seriously, they are coming for you. And if they can't break your body, they will try to break your mind, your career, your life."
Levi leaned back, taking a sip of the expensive champagne she'd brought as a nervous celebration gift.
"Sophie, I appreciate the concern. But let them come. The more force they apply, the harder I hit back. It's physics, baby. Equal and opposite reaction."
He smiled—a charming, boyish smile that was completely at odds with the weaponized aura surrounding him.
"I only need one thing from you in Seattle: be ready with the stretcher. But don't bring it for me."
Sophie sighed, rubbing her temples. She knew the arrogance was part of his strength, but his invincibility was breeding a dangerous disregard for consequence.
She stood up, walking toward his bathroom to dry her perpetually damp hair from the coastal fog, leaving the champagne bottle chilling on the counter.
Levi, completely confident, picked up his phone to check the Vultures' betting odds. He needed to place a large bet on a TKO victory.
That's when the System, usually his loyal servant, betrayed him.
[ALARM! CRITICAL WARNING!]
[Detection: "World Authority" Malice Locked On.]
[High-Level Plot Triggered: The Capitalist Purge.]
[System Side Effect Manifesting: Overuse of "Indestructible Body".]
Levi froze. The champagne flute slipped from his fingers.
[PENALTY: The Rebound.]
[Effect: For the next 24 hours, all stats reduced to ZERO. Pain Sensitivity increased by 1000%.]
Before Levi could comprehend the gravity of the text, an unseen, fiery agony struck. The pain he had reflected all day—every bone crunch, every nerve shock—returned, magnified tenfold.
"Argh..." He collapsed onto the carpet, his body seizing up as every nerve screamed. He was paralyzed, reduced to a helpless, weeping mortal. A gust of wind from the air conditioning unit felt like a thousand needles piercing his Diamond Skin.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The pounding on the front door was loud, official, and ominous.
"Mr. Levi? Open up. This is the FBI Anti-Doping Task Force."
The voice was cold, mechanical.
"We have a warrant to search for illegal biological enhancements. Open the door, or we will breach."
Levi lay on the floor, sweat pouring down his face, the agony preventing even a whisper. Sophie's hair dryer hummed loudly in the background, drowning out his silent suffering.
The door handle jiggled. Click.
In his overconfidence, he had forgotten to lock it.
The door slowly creaked open, revealing the looming shadows of three men in dark suits.
And for the first time since hearing the System's voice...
The Human Tank felt fear.