The adrenaline that had powered Rio through the final whistle was evaporating, leaving behind only the cold, sharp wreckage of his own biology.
He stumbled into the concrete sanctuary of the players' tunnel, away from the cameras, the cheering Verdy ultras, and the prying eyes of his teammates. The roar of Ajinomoto Stadium was muffled here, reduced to a distant, rhythmic thrumming that vibrated against the damp walls like a fading heartbeat.
Rio collapsed against the cold cinder blocks, sliding down until he was crouching. He clutched his chest, his fingers digging into the fabric of his sweat-soaked jersey as if trying to manually pump the organ beneath.
Thump... pause... thump-thump... pause.
His heart wasn't beating; it was shivering. It felt like a bird trapped in a cage that was slowly shrinking.
He summoned the System interface. The blue light washed over his pale face, illuminating the panic in his eyes.
[CURRENT STATUS]Stamina: 3/100 (CRITICAL) Heart Stress Level: 92% Warning: Cardiac Arrhythmia Detected. Immediate rest required.
"Careful," Specter warned, hovering nervously near the flickering ceiling lights. The ghost looked genuinely concerned, his usual sarcasm replaced by clinical alarm. "You pushed too hard with that last sprint. Your heart rate isn't coming down fast enough. You're redlining, kid. If you stand up too fast, you'll trigger a shutdown."
"I know," Rio whispered, squeezing his eyes shut against the dizziness that spun the world like a top. "Just give me... a minute. I just need to catch my breath before the team comes in. I can't let them see me like this."
"You don't have a minute."
A deep, smooth voice echoed down the concrete corridor.
Rio stiffened. The pain in his chest was momentarily forgotten, replaced by the instinct of prey sensing a predator. He forced himself to stand up, straightening his spine despite the screaming protest of his muscles. He wiped the agony from his face, replacing it with a mask of calm.
A man stood ten meters away, blocking the exit to the mixed zone.
He wore a sharp, black tailored suit that looked out of place in the humid, sweat-scented tunnel. His hair was slicked back with expensive pomade, and his eyes—dark, intelligent, and calculating—were analyzing Rio like a butcher inspecting a side of beef.
Rio bowed slightly, defaulting to Japanese etiquette. "Yes? Can I help you?"
The man smiled. It was a practiced smile, one that showed teeth but no warmth. He walked closer, his polished leather shoes clicking rhythmically on the concrete. Click. Click. Click.
"Tidak perlu bahasa Jepang. Saya tahu siapa kamu." (No need for Japanese. I know who you are.)
Rio froze. The Indonesian words hit him harder than any tackle.
The man stopped two feet away. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a business card, holding it out between two fingers like a blade.
[GUNTUR WIJAYA]Head Scout - PSSI (Indonesian Football Association)
Rio took the card. His fingers felt numb.
"I saw the game," Guntur said, switching to flawless English. "The assist was brilliant. The goal was lucky. But what interested me most... was the breaks."
Guntur tapped his own chest, right over the heart.
"Minute 65. You winced after a tackle that shouldn't have hurt. Minute 88. After the goal, you didn't celebrate with your team. You collapsed. You were gasping for air like a drowning man."
Guntur leaned in, his cologne smelling of sandalwood and authority.
"I've been a scout for twenty years, Rio. I know the difference between exhaustion and failure. You weren't tired. You were dying."
Rio's blood ran cold. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his heart hammered against his ribs in a terrified staccato. "I was just tired. It was a high-intensity match. I'm not used to the Japanese pace yet."
"Is that all?" Guntur's eyes narrowed into slits. "Or are you hiding something? I pulled your medical records from Jakarta. The ones from three months ago."
Guntur recited the diagnosis from memory, his voice flat and unforgiving.
"Unfit for professional sports. Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy. Risk of sudden death: High."
Specter drifted between them, glaring at Guntur. "This guy is sharp," the ghost hissed. "He did his homework. He smells blood, Rio. Be careful."
Rio dropped the polite act. He crumpled the business card in his fist.
"What do you want?"
"The U-20 World Cup is in two years," Guntur said, his voice dropping to a serious whisper. "Indonesia is the host nation. We cannot embarrass ourselves on the world stage. We are building a Golden Generation. We need players who can survive at the top level."
He looked at Rio with a mix of suspicion and hunger.
"I want to call you up for the National Training Camp in Jakarta next month."
Rio's heart skipped a beat. A real beat.
[MAIN QUEST UPDATE: THE ROAD TO IMMORTALITY]Step 1: Join the National Team.Status: Opportunity Available.
This was it. The path to the World Cup. The path to the [Heart of the Dragon]—the item that would cure him.
"But," Guntur continued, raising a finger. "I don't trust miracles. And I don't trust paperwork that mysteriously disappears. If you accept the call-up, the first thing you will do is undergo a Comprehensive Medical Exam at the National Sports Hospital."
The world stopped.
Rio stopped breathing.
"MRI. EKG. Stress Test. Everything," Guntur listed them off. "If you are healthy, you wear the Garuda jersey. If you are sick... I will ban you from football for your own safety."
It was a trap. A perfect, bureaucratic trap.
If he took a full medical exam, they would see his heart condition immediately. The System allowed him to run, but it didn't change his anatomy. They would see the thickened walls. They would see the ticking time bomb.
"If you refuse," Guntur shrugged, adjusting his cuffs, "then I assume the rumors are true, and you are a liability we cannot afford. You will stay here in Japan, play a few games until your heart gives out, and be forgotten."
Rio looked at Specter.
The ghost was floating upside down, looking at the ceiling pipes. He was grinning.
"Accept it," Specter mouthed.
"Are you crazy?" Rio hissed internally. "They'll see my heart! The System doesn't fix the anatomy, it just bypasses the limits!"
"We have a month," Specter whispered. "You just earned a lot of lifespan. Check the Shop. There's a way to cheat the machine."
Rio swallowed hard. He turned back to Guntur. He forced his posture to relax, looking the scout dead in the eye.
"I'll be there," Rio said, his voice steady. "I'll pass your exam. And then I'll take the #9 jersey."
Guntur looked surprised by the boldness. He stared at Rio for a long moment, looking for a crack in the armor. Finding none, he chuckled darkly.
"Good. Confidence is key."
Guntur turned to leave. His coat swishing behind him. His footsteps, Click. Click. Click., were regular and cold, the sound of an unforgiving clock.
"Don't die on me before then, kid. I'd hate to waste the paperwork."
The Masquerade
The Dormitory. 01:00 AM.
The room was silent, save for the hum of the city outside. The lights of Tokyo bled through the thin curtains.
Rio lay on his top bunk, illuminated only by the blue glow of the System interface. He stared at the item Specter had pulled up in the Shop.
[ITEM: THE MASQUERADE MASK (Medical Grade)]Rank: B Effect: Temporarily creates a falsified bio-signal shield around the user's internal organs. Medical scans (MRI, X-Ray, EKG) will read "Perfect Health" for 1 hour. Cost:30 Days Lifespan.
"Thirty days," Rio groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "I just earned 21 days from the match and the quest. I have 89 days total. If I buy this, I drop to 59. I'm losing a month of my life just to lie to a machine."
"That's the price of a secret identity," Specter said, sitting on the edge of the bed, swinging his translucent legs. "You want to play for the National Team? You have to pay the toll."
Rio closed his eyes and pressed [PURCHASE].
ZZZZZT!
It didn't hurt like the Flash Step evolution. It felt worse. The chest cavity felt like a vacuum. Thirty days—a month of future, erased. He felt physically heavy, as if gravity had just increased its pull on his weakened body.
[ITEM: MASQUERADE MASK ACQUIRED][CURRENT LIFESPAN: 59 Days, 18 Hours, 10 Minutes]
Specter pointed at the calendar on the wall.
"You have a month before the camp. That means four league games in the Prince Takamado Premier League."
The ghost's eyes glowed in the dark.
"You need to farm lifespan, Rio. You need to become a monster. No more 'Super Sub' nonsense. You need to start every game. You need to score. You need to dominate until your time bank is full enough to survive the flight home."
Rio clenched his fist. The pressure was suffocating. He wasn't just playing for wins anymore. He was working a second job to pay off a debt to death itself.
Creak.
The door opened.
Rio quickly dismissed the screen.
Hiroto walked into the room. He was wearing pajamas and drying his wet hair with a towel. He tossed a cold can of soda onto Rio's bed.
"Nice reflexes," Hiroto noted as Rio caught the can in the dark without looking.
"What do you want, Hiroto? It's late."
Hiroto leaned against the doorframe, sipping his own drink. "Coach Tanaka is in a good mood. He liked the goal. He liked the assist."
Hiroto paused for dramatic effect.
"He says you're starting next week against Urawa Reds Youth."
Rio sat up, the bed springs creaking. "Starting? Me?"
"Don't get cocky," Hiroto smirked. "Urawa plays dirty. They don't tackle to win the ball; they tackle to hurt. If you play like a coward, I won't pass to you. I'd rather lose alone than play with a ghost."
Rio cracked open the soda. Psssh.
A new notification popped up in the corner of his eye.
[NEW SIDE QUEST: THE STARTING XI]Objective: Play 90 Minutes against Urawa Reds without being substituted or collapsing. Reward: +5 Days Lifespan. Bonus: Score 1 Goal (+2 Days).
Rio raised the can in a mock toast to Hiroto.
"Don't worry, Hiroto," Rio said, his eyes cold and determined in the shadows. "I plan to run until my legs fall off."
Hiroto laughed softly. "Good. Because Urawa is going to try and tear them off for you."
As Hiroto left, Rio looked at his lifespan timer one last time.
[59 Days Remaining]
He had 30 days to pay the debt for the Mask. He had four games.
The farm was open. And Rio Valdes was the reaper.