The aftermath of the Yo-Yo Test was not restorative; it was brutal.
Rio lay on the cold, tiled floor of the locker room for thirty minutes, wrapped in a crinkling emergency foil blanket. He didn't move. He simply existed, feeling the rhythmic, agonizing pulse of his heart slowly returning to a sustainable, yet still dangerous, beat.
He was alive.
He had run until the System itself forced the shutdown. He had run two levels past the National Captain.
When he finally managed to sit up, Coach Bima was gone, leaving only the team doctor monitoring the situation with a suspicious frown.
Rio looked across the room. Bambang—the U-20 Captain—was still sitting on a bench, head bowed low, refusing to look at anyone. The shame of being outlasted by the "Japanese Import" was a palpable heat source in the cold room.
The new status quo was established: Rio Valdes was the undisputed psychological champion of endurance, and the most hated man in the camp.
THE HOSTILE DORMITORY
That Evening.
The National Team Dormitory was sparse. Two iron-framed bunk beds, a chipped desk, and a window that overlooked a patch of scorched grass. The air conditioning rattled, barely combating the Jakarta humidity.
Rio was assigned the lower bunk. His roommate was Dino, Bambang's former right-hand man, the one Rio had deliberately broken during the Yo-Yo Test.
Dino sat on his bed, silently cleaning his cleats. He hadn't spoken a word to Rio since the test ended. The air was thick with resentment. Every scrape of the brush against the leather sounded like an insult.
Rio sat on his bed, ignoring the hostility. He was recovering, burning time, but gaining strength. He activated the System.
[CURRENT LIFESPAN: 56 Days, 04 Hours]
He had successfully raised his capital for the [Masquerade Mask] purchase. He was now running on a 56-day margin.
He checked his new acquisition.
[PASSIVE TRAIT: IRON MAN'S STAMINA (Rank C)]Effect: Greatly increases Stamina efficiency by 15% when playing under 50% fitness. Note: Best used by damaged or weak athletes.
"You bought the perfect skill," Specter commented, floating over the desk, examining a mosquito coil. "It's a passive amplifier. It doesn't give you strength, but it makes your current F-Rank heart 15% more efficient when you're dying. It will help you survive the full 90 minutes."
"But it doesn't help me beat Bambang," Rio whispered, careful not to let Dino hear. "He's still the best player here. Strong, fast, and he has a Rank B shooting skill. He's a tank."
Rio glanced at Dino. The enmity in the room was a problem. If he was isolated, he couldn't play effectively. Football was a team sport, and currently, his team wanted him dead.
"The team hates you," Specter noted cheerfully. "You humiliated their leader. They won't pass to you."
"Good," Rio said, pulling out a tactical notepad. "Then I won't pass to them. I'll pass to where the enemy isn't. I need to train my mind."
Rio closed his eyes and began his internal training.
INTERNAL TRAINING: THE GOD'S EYE
Rio entered the abstract space of his mind—a construct created by the [Eagle Eye] skill.
The space was a cold, three-dimensional grid, glowing with faint blue lines against a black void. In the center, a miniature version of a football pitch spun slowly.
"Alright, Specter," Rio commanded mentally. "Simulate the South Korean game. Minute 80. I'm on the wing. You're giving me the ball."
The grid materialized tiny, moving dots: Red (Opponent) and Yellow (Ally).
"My goal is to score. The problem is Park (A-Rank Strength) is covering me, and the goalkeeper is elite."
"Start the simulation," Specter's voice echoed in the void.
Rio watched the dots move. He saw the Korean defenders shifting in perfect unison, a disciplined machine.
Simulation 1: Rio tries to pass to a teammate (Yellow Dot). Result: The Korean midfield instantly intercepts the predictable pass. Loss of Possession.
Simulation 2: Rio uses [Flash Step] to dribble past Park. Result: Success! But the 2 seconds of speed run out. The Korean covering defender tackles Rio violently. Loss of Possession & Injury Risk.
"Too linear," Specter analyzed, floating upside down above the grid. "You're thinking like a striker. You need to think like a ghost."
"How?"
"Use the field," Specter instructed. "You have two tactical skills: Eagle Eye (Vision) and Iron Man's Stamina (Endurance). Combine them."
Rio frowned. "They don't combine."
"Yes, they do," Specter hissed. "Your stamina skill works best when you are near collapse. That means, the worse you feel, the more efficient you are. Your weakness is your greatest weapon."
Simulation 3: Rio activates [Eagle Eye] and visualizes the field.
"Watch the goal," Specter commanded. "Not the players."
Rio focused. The grid showed the Korean goalkeeper's movement.
"He's elite. He relies on prediction," Specter pointed out. "If you show him you are running out of time, he will predict a quick shot."
"So I fake the quick shot," Rio realized.
Rio visualized himself running into the box. He performs the Shot-Fake (The Dummy). The Korean keeper dives.
"Now," Specter said. "Where do you put the ball?"
Rio looked at the data. He saw the covering defender rushing in. He saw the line of the sliding tackle.
"I can't pass it. I can't shoot it."
"Then kill the momentum," Specter instructed. "Use the ugliest touch you know."
Rio visualized the movement: he traps the ball dead, letting the defender slide past into emptiness. He waits for the keeper to commit fully to the ground.
"The goal is open," Rio whispered.
"No, the goal is closing," Specter corrected. "You've wasted precious seconds. You need to end the play instantly."
"I have to score with a Toe-Poke," Rio decided. "It's ugly, but fast. It leaves zero time for the keeper to recover."
Rio slammed his mental foot into the abstract ball.
GOAL.
"That," Specter said, extinguishing the visualization, "is how you play, Rio. You don't try to be better than them. You try to be uglier than they expect."
Rio opened his eyes. He was back in the stuffy dorm room. Dino was still silently polishing his cleats, the rhythmic sound now strangely comforting.
Rio had survived the psychological test. Now he had the tactical blueprint.
THE SILENT WAR
The Next Day. Morning Training.
The camp began its official routine. The sun beat down on the Senayan fields, turning the grass into a steaming oven. The air was thick with the silent war between the captain and the outsider.
During a passing drill, Bambang received the ball. He glanced at Rio, who was wide open ten meters away—the logical, tactical choice.
Bambang deliberately turned his back. He passed the ball twenty meters in the opposite direction to his ally, forcing the play to slow down.
The message was clear: You are invisible.
Rio didn't react. He didn't call for the ball. He didn't complain. He used the moment to sprint three laps around the field, burning stamina, forcing the [Iron Man's Stamina] to activate and increase his efficiency. He trained his weakness while they played their politics.
He ran until the familiar, dull ache settled in his heart.
Later, during a short passing scrimmage, Rio found his moment.
Bambang had the ball near the box. He was surrounded by defenders. He saw a teammate open and prepared a pass.
Rio activated [Eagle Eye] (Passive).
He saw the line of the pass: Predictable, straight, and easy to intercept.
Rio didn't call for the pass. Instead, he made an aggressive run, cutting directly into the passing lane. He intercepted the ball—stole it from his own captain—and immediately shot.
It was a weak, terrible shot, easily saved by the goalkeeper.
But the message was sent.
Bambang stared at him, his face a mask of fury.
"What are you doing, Valdes?! Itu tembakan sampah! (That was a garbage shot!) Pass the ball!"
Rio simply jogged back into position, wiping sweat from his brow.
"I saw a better opportunity, Captain," Rio said in Indonesian, making sure everyone heard. "The pass was too slow. You telegraphed it."
The locker room went silent. Rio had just publicly criticized the best player in the camp. Coach Bima watched from the sidelines, his arms crossed, a flicker of interest in his eyes.
Coach Bima blew his whistle, calling the team together. He looked tense, sensing the civil war brewing in his squad.
"Tomorrow," Bima announced. "We play our first friendly match against a local professional club. This is your chance to prove you deserve to be here."
He looked directly at Rio and Bambang.
"Bambang, you are the Striker. Valdes, you are the Shadow Striker—you will play just behind him."
Rio and Bambang stared at each other. They were going to be forced to cooperate.
Specter grinned from the sidelines. "You have to partner with your enemy, Rio. Now, let's see which of you is the predator and which is the bait."