The victory over the local professional club was a temporary reprieve, not a cure. It was morphine for a broken bone—it numbed the mind, but the fracture remained.
Rio lay in his bunk bed that evening, the adrenaline of the 3-1 win long gone. In its place was a wreckage of biological protest. His muscles didn't just ache; they felt like shredded fibers soaked in battery acid. The dull, persistent throb in his chest—the sign that his heart was struggling to recover from its forced overdrive—was relentless, a drum beating a funeral march against his ribs.
He summoned the System interface. The blue light cut through the humid darkness of the dorm room.
[CURRENT LIFESPAN: 67 Days, 14 Hours]Note: Lifespan calculated after 3 days of suspension and 1 game earnings.
"You're back in the black," Specter announced, floating above the bed, consulting a ghostly ledger with a quill made of smoke. "You have enough capital to purchase the Mask and survive the immediate consequences. The time is now, Rio."
Rio felt a heavy knot settle in his stomach. The euphoria of the win evaporated instantly, replaced by the cold, transactional reality of his existence.
"I need to buy it now," Rio whispered, careful not to wake Dino in the bunk above. "The Final Roster Medical Exam is in less than two weeks. Guntur said the first check was just a screening. This next one is for FIFA registration. It's invasive. I can't risk it."
He navigated to the Shop. The item pulsed with a deep, ruby red—the color of a necessary evil.
[ITEM: THE MASQUERADE MASK (Medical Grade)]Rank: B Effect: Creates a flawless bio-signal shield around internal organs. Masks all structural abnormalities (including HCM) during advanced medical scans (MRI, CT, Stress EKG) for 1 hour. Cost:30 Days Lifespan.
"Thirty days," Rio muttered, his voice trembling. "It's almost half of what I have left. Thirty days of future gone just to lie to a machine. That's a month of sunrises I'll never see."
He hesitated. He looked at the window, where the city lights of Jakarta glowed hazily through the humidity. He imagined the month he was about to lose—the potential goals, the laughs, the simple act of breathing.
"Do it, Rio," Specter urged. His voice lost its usual predatory edge, turning soft and convincing, like a devil selling salvation. "This isn't just a purchase. This is your insurance policy. Without this, the medical exam is a guaranteed death sentence. This item guarantees the World Cup stays open."
Rio took a deep, shaky breath. He thought of the [Heart of the Dragon]. The end justified the means. The only way out was through.
He closed his eyes and pressed [CONFIRM PURCHASE].
Zzzzt!
The sensation wasn't pain. It was absence.
The cold shock was worse than the physical agony of the skill evolution. It was a vacuum in his soul. It felt like being stripped of warmth, memory, and energy all at once. Rio gasped, his back arching off the mattress, his fingers clawing at the sheets as the life force was violently siphoned from his core.
He lay there, panting, sweat soaking his shirt, as the numbers vanished before his eyes.
!!! PURCHASE SUCCESSFUL !!![LIFESPAN DEDUCTED: -30 DAYS]
[CURRENT LIFESPAN: 37 Days, 14 Hours]
Thirty-seven days.
Rio stared at the remaining number. Less than six weeks. He was living on the razor's edge. He had guaranteed his ticket to the National Squad, but he had mortgaged his immediate future to the point of bankruptcy.
"Welcome to the true endgame," Specter whispered, drifting down to look Rio in the eye. "You are now officially poor, Rio. Every training session, every meal, every second of rest is a high-stakes gamble."
Rio forced himself to sit up, his body feeling heavy and sick from the massive drain.
"I need to earn," he wheezed. "I need the next match."
THE IMMEDIATE CONSEQUENCE
Morning Training. The Senayan Fields.
The cost of the Mask immediately became apparent the next morning.
Rio's stamina felt worse than usual. It wasn't just physical fatigue; it was an existential lethargy. The massive withdrawal of lifespan had left the System Bypass running on reserve power. His body was suffering from an acute energy deficit, like a car trying to run on fumes.
The morning conditioning drill was simple: a 5km timed run around the complex.
Rio struggled from the first kilometer. The humid air felt like concrete in his lungs. His legs were leaden. The new [Iron Man's Stamina] passively activated at 50% capacity, but even the 15% efficiency boost wasn't enough to compensate for the sudden loss of vitality.
He stumbled across the finish line, pale and gasping, his vision swimming with grey spots.
He finished last. Dead last.
"Valdes!" Coach Bima roared, enraged, throwing his clipboard onto the grass. "What was that?! Yesterday you ran the field like a ghost! Today you run like a sick dog! Where is your stamina?!"
Rio could only lean against a goalpost, trying to keep his trembling legs from giving out. He couldn't explain the System's debit. He couldn't say, 'I just sold a month of my life to pass your medical exam.'
"I'm... recovering, Coach," Rio managed to choke out.
"Recover faster!" Bima shouted. "We don't have time for tourists!"
"It's the toll, Rio," Specter whispered grimly into his ear. "The System is struggling to sustain the life force. It prioritizes the Bypass to keep your heart beating, not your muscles moving. You are weaker now than you were before the Yokohama match."
Bambang, who had finished first and barely broken a sweat, walked over. He wiped his face with a towel, a condescending smile splitting his face. He squeezed the wet towel with one hand, water dripping onto the grass like a testament to his surplus energy.
"So the import is broken again," Bambang drawled in Indonesian, loud enough for the whole team to hear. "I told you, Valdes. You only work in two-second bursts. You can't handle the stamina of the National Team. You're a sprinter trying to run a marathon."
Bambang leaned in, his eyes cold.
"I'm not finished," Rio wheezed, staring back.
"You will be," Bambang promised. "The starting lineup is still undecided. If you look weak on the field, I'll make sure the Coach subs you in the first half of the next friendly. And if you're subbed... you earn nothing."
TACTICAL EVOLUTION
The Video Room. Afternoon.
Rio spent the rest of the day in tactical isolation. He knew he couldn't survive another physical clash like the one against Daigo. He couldn't risk another [Lightning Stride]; the energy drain might trigger a permanent shutdown given his low balance.
He had to shift his entire playstyle to survive the 30-day hole he had dug.
He sat alone in the dark room, watching game footage of the world's best midfielders. Not the runners. The thinkers.
Andrea Pirlo. Xavi Hernandez. Sergio Busquets.
"Phase 1," Rio muttered, taking notes. "Maximize Vision, Minimize Movement."
He used his [Eagle Eye] for hours of mental training, simulating games, analyzing defensive errors, and predicting play. He was no longer training to be a runner. He was training to be a tactical parasite.
"Phase 2: Master the Pass."
Rio realized his physical weakness was now his biggest constraint. If he ran less, he survived longer. If he survived longer, he could use his vision more often.
Rio spent the evening practicing one thing against the dormitory wall: the one-touch pass.
Thump. Control. Release. Thump. Control. Release.
The rhythmic sound echoed in the alleyway, steady as a metronome, counting down the seconds of his life.
He needed to receive the ball, process the [Eagle Eye] data, and release the pass instantly—before the F-Rank weakness of his body was exposed by a tackle or a sustained run.
"You're becoming a quarterback," Specter noted, watching Rio kick balls against a wall for three hours. "You're trying to play like Pirlo, but with the body of a 90-year-old heart patient."
"I am eliminating the variable of my own body," Rio explained, his voice low and focused. "I am becoming a brain on the pitch. I only touch the ball to move it to someone better, or to a space the enemy isn't expecting."
He was transforming himself from a Shadow Striker into a Regista—a deep-lying playmaker who dictated tempo from the shadows.
THE EVE OF BATTLE
The Dormitory. Night.
The next friendly match was set against Persija Jakarta U-20, a solid team with a passionate fanbase. The stakes were high: Guntur Wijaya would be watching, and Coach Bima would finalize the starting XI for the Asian Cup Qualifiers based on this performance.
Rio lay in his bunk, exhausted. The mosquito coil burned slowly on the desk.
He looked at the timer.
[CURRENT LIFESPAN: 37 Days, 06 Hours]
He had one last tool left in his arsenal: the small Stamina Potion he had earned from the Yo-Yo Test side quest.
[ITEM: STAMINA POTION (Small)]Effect: Instantly restores 50% Stamina and reduces Heart Stress for 1 hour. Status: Unused.
"You won't last ten minutes tomorrow without that," Specter warned, hovering near the ceiling. "Your baseline stamina is destroyed from the purchase. Use it before kickoff."
Rio clutched his chest. The rhythm was steady, but weak.
"No," Rio whispered. "I save it for Minute 70. When I'm dying. When Bambang is dying. When the defense is tired."
"That's suicide," Specter argued.
"That's strategy," Rio countered. "That's when the brain is clearest. That's when I win. I will endure the first 70 minutes. I will play the ugliest, slowest game of my life. And then..."
Rio looked at the reflection of the Garuda emblem on his jersey in the dark glass of the window.
"...I will burn everything I have left."
He was committing to spending the first hour playing the toughest game of his life with half a heart and minimal stamina. He was walking onto the pitch designed to fail physically, so he could succeed tactically.
He closed his eyes.
37 days.
The countdown was loud in the silence.