The world was celebrating.
In Jakarta, thousands of fans flooded the Bundaran HI roundabout, waving red and white flags, lighting flares, and chanting "Garuda! Garuda!". A draw against France—the tournament favorites—was historic. It was miraculous. The media called it "The Night of Heroes."
But in a private hospital room in Doha, there was no celebration. Only the steady, rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
Rio Valdes opened his eyes.
The ceiling was white. The smell was antiseptic. His chest felt like it was encased in concrete. Every breath was a shallow, sharp struggle against his own ribcage.
[SYSTEM REBOOTING...][User Consciousness: RESTORED][Heart Integrity: 68% (Damaged)][Chest Contusion: SEVERE]
"You're awake."
Rio turned his head slowly. Coach Guntur was sitting in a chair next to the bed. The coach looked exhausted, holding a cup of cold coffee that had long since lost its steam.
"How long?" Rio rasped. His throat was dry as sandpaper.
"Six hours," Guntur said softly. "You blacked out right after the whistle. The doctors say you took a blunt force trauma to the sternum. If the ball had hit an inch to the left..." Guntur trailed off, looking at the monitor. "Rio, the doctor said your heart rhythm is irregular. He wants to pull you from the tournament. He's preparing the discharge papers for you to fly home."
Rio tried to sit up. A jolt of pain shot through his ribs, white-hot and blinding, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself upright.
"No," Rio said.
"Rio, listen to me," Guntur stood up, his voice trembling. "It's just a game. You almost died out there. I saw your eyes roll back. We got the point. We made history. It's enough."
Rio looked at the invisible blue screen floating in front of him.
[MATCH RESULT: DRAW][Reward: +10 Days Lifespan (Draw Bonus)][Achievement Unlocked: "Titan Slayer" (Survived a duel with S-Rank Player)][Achievement Reward: +5 Days Lifespan]
Calculation: Starting Lifespan: 64 Days. Cost of Adrenaline Overload: -30 Days. Match Reward: +15 Days. Current Lifespan: 49 Days.
He had lost 15 days of his life to get that one point. If he quit now, he would die in less than two months.
"It's not enough," Rio looked Guntur in the eye, his gaze intense enough to silence the room. "If I stop now, I die anyway. I play against Argentina."
Guntur stared at the boy—no, the machine—in front of him. He realized he couldn't stop him. Rio was fighting a war Guntur couldn't see.
"Fine," Guntur sighed, defeated. "But we have other problems. Big ones."
The coach walked to the door. "Get changed. I signed your release waiver. If you die, it's on us."
Two Hours Later. Team Meeting Room.
The mood was somber. The "heroes" of the France match didn't look like winners; they looked like war veterans who had barely survived a bombing run.
Adrian Vance was in a wheelchair, his leg encased in a heavy plaster cast. Bambang had a massive bandage across his nose and black bruises around both eyes that made him look like a raccoon. Ole was sitting silently in the corner, nursing a thigh wrapped in compression ice.
Rio walked in. He had ditched the hospital gown for his team tracksuit, but he walked stiffly, one hand pressing against his chest.
"Turn off the TV," Rio ordered. On the screen, news anchors were praising their 'fighting spirit'. "Celebration time is over."
Adrian wheeled himself to the front. "We watched the Argentina vs Japan match while you were sleeping."
"And?" Rio asked, taking a seat carefully.
"Japan lost 0-3," Adrian said grimly. "Three Japanese players were carried off on stretchers."
Rio narrowed his eyes. "Injuries?"
"Assaults," Adrian corrected. "Argentina isn't like France. France beat us with power and arrogance. Argentina plays... dirty. They are street fighters. They pinch, they stomp on ankles when the ref isn't looking, they provoke you until you snap."
Adrian pulled up a clip on the screen. It showed the Argentine captain, a defensive midfielder named Lisandro Martinez (nicknamed "The Butcher"). In the clip, Martinez smiled at a Japanese player, helped him up, and then—blocked from the referee's view—dug his elbow violently into the player's kidney. The Japanese player collapsed, writhing in agony. No foul given.
"They call him 'The Butcher'," Adrian said. "His skill isn't passing. It's breaking the opponent's rhythm—and bones."
Rio looked at the screen.
[Target Analysis: Martinez][Style: Provocateur / Destroyer][Threat Level: A-Rank (Physical Danger: S-Rank)]
"We barely survived France physically," Bambang mumbled through his swollen nose, his voice nasal and thick. "If Argentina turns the match into a brawl, we don't have the bodies left to fight back. Look at us. We're cripples."
"We don't fight them," Rio said coldly.
The team looked at him.
"France was a battle of shields," Rio explained, touching his bruised chest. "We absorbed their hits until we broke. Against Argentina, we can't afford to get hit. One tackle from Martinez, and Bambang's nose shatters again. One stomp, and I'm back in the hospital."
Rio turned to the whiteboard. He erased Adrian's "Mud Pit" formation (5-5-0).
He drew a new formation. It was strange. Asymmetrical. 4-3-3. But the lines were wide apart.
"They want a street fight," Rio said. "So we don't step into the alley. We play Protocol: Ghost."
He pointed at Ole.
"Ole is the key. Argentina's aggression is their weakness. They chase the ball like rabid dogs. If we hold the ball for more than two seconds, they kill us. So we play One-Touch Only."
"One touch?" Bambang asked, incredulous. "Rio, half the team can barely trap a ball properly. You want us to play Tiki-Taka like Barcelona? In two days?"
"Not Tiki-Taka," Rio corrected. "Tiki-Taka is about control. This is about Survival. Think of the ball as a hot potato. Use your fear. You get the ball? Get rid of it instantly. Don't look for a perfect pass—just move it away from the danger."
"That's panic passing," Adrian noted.
"Exactly," Rio nodded. "Panic is fast. And to make it work, I will be the hub. I will activate The Surgeon's Touch for the entire 90 minutes. I will collect your panic passes and redirect them."
"Rio, your heart..." Adrian warned, looking at the monitor on his wheelchair armrest. "Continuous usage of System skills drains stamina. If you play Hub for 90 minutes..."
"It holds," Rio cut him off. "It has to."
He looked at his battered squad.
"France tried to crush us. Argentina will try to break us. But look at yourselves."
Rio pointed to Bambang's broken nose, Adrian's broken leg, and his own bandaged chest.
"What is broken cannot be broken again. We are already dead men walking. So let's show The Butcher what ghosts can do."
Bambang touched his bandages. A grin formed beneath the gauze. It was a terrifying sight. "I like it. Ghosts can't bleed."
Rio nodded. "Rest up. Tomorrow, we learn how to vanish."