The lights were gone. The noise was gone.
Rio woke up to the humid, suffocating darkness of the National Training Center's infirmary. The air smelled strongly of antiseptic, iodine, and stale sweat—the olfactory cocktail of a place where bodies are mended.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
The rhythmic sound of the heart monitor was his constant companion. He was lying on a crisp white bedsheet that felt like sandpaper against his sensitive skin. His heart felt like a dead weight, heavy and cold inside his chest, a stone that refused to float.
He had collapsed spectacularly, earning his nine days of life. But the cost was evident in the trembling of his hands.
He summoned the System. The blue light was the only illumination in the room.
[CURRENT LIFESPAN: 46 Days, 01 Hour]Note: Lifespan calculated after 18 hours of recovery drain.
"You survived," Specter whispered, floating above the bed, his face grim. "But it was a technical foul on your body. You consumed an A-Rank power with an F-Rank engine. You triggered a cardiac shock event."
Rio tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea forced him back down. His body was rejecting the very concept of movement.
"How long was I out?" Rio rasped, his throat dry as dust.
"Twelve hours," Specter replied, crossing his translucent arms. "Coach Bima almost cut you. Guntur Wijaya was seen talking to the team doctor for a long time. The only thing that saved you was the final score. Guntur wants to see the source of the win, not just the casualty."
Rio knew the danger. His spectacular collapse was a massive vulnerability. Guntur was not a man who missed details. If the scout suspected the collapse was chronic rather than acute, the [Masquerade Mask] wouldn't matter.
He closed his eyes. The team. He was completely isolated. Bambang's cold pact was clear: Win, but do it alone.
Rio activated his [Eagle Eye] (Passive). He ran mental simulations in the darkness.
If I use the Potion again, I die. If I try to survive 90 minutes without the Potion, I collapse by minute 60.
Rio realized the truth: He was not fit to play the next match. Not physically. He couldn't outrun the elite.
"I need another skill," Rio whispered to Specter. "I need something cheap. Something I can buy with this small margin. Something permanent."
"You have a Bronze Ticket from the Yo-Yo test side quest," Specter reminded him. "Try the Gacha. It's a gamble, but you have no capital for the Shop."
THE GAMBLE
Rio summoned the Shop interface.
[CURRENT LIFESPAN: 46 Days][ITEM: BRONZE GACHA TICKET x1]
He stared at the ticket. Bronze meant low tier. D-Rank or C-Rank at best. But sometimes, low rank didn't mean useless. It meant specialized.
Rio pressed [SPIN].
He held his breath. He couldn't afford to lose any more life or gain a useless D-Rank skill like [Basic Ball Control] or [Throw-In Mastery].
The Bronze Wheel spun wildly, clicking against the stopper.
Click... Click... Click...
It passed the [Minor Stamina Boost]. Rio flinched. It passed the [Agility Up].
It slowed down, landing on a shining, sinister Bronze icon that depicted a bird of prey sitting on a skull.
[CONGRATULATIONS!][YOU OBTAINED: VULTURE'S EYE (Rank D)]
Type: Passive Trait / Vision Upgrade Effect: Increases vision to detect player weakness, mental fatigue, and mechanical flaws by 20%. Condition: Best used against exhausted or cornered opponents.
Rio frowned. "Vulture's Eye? That just amplifies my current passive vision. I didn't need another vision skill. I need stamina. I need legs."
"Stop complaining," Specter snapped, floating down to inspect the icon. "The System gave you a tool to win the psychological war. You are a vulture, Rio. You don't hunt healthy prey. You wait for others to bleed."
Specter pointed out the strategy:
Eagle Eye (Rank A): Sees the Space (The field geometry, the passing lanes).
Vulture's Eye (Rank D): Sees the Man (The enemy's emotional weakness, the limp in their step, the fear in their eyes).
"This is how you beat Bambang," Specter said, a cruel smile forming. "You beat him by exploiting his arrogance and fatigue. You beat Guntur by proving you are a cold, calculating machine, not a fragile runner."
THE SCAVENGER'S TRAINING
48 Hours Later. The Training Pitch.
Rio was back on the field, moving with the cold efficiency of his new purpose.
Coach Bima was observing him like a hawk from the sidelines, stopwatch in hand, waiting for the first misstep, the first sign of the cardiac weakness returning.
Rio wasn't training his physical body—his body couldn't handle it. He was training his eyes.
He practiced using the [Vulture's Eye] against his teammates during the 5v5 scrimmage.
He looked at Hadi, the center back.
[VULTURE'S EYE ACTIVE]Target: Hadi Status: Knee Strain (Left Leg) Mental State: Hesitant.
Rio saw a faint, red pulse around Hadi's left knee. It wasn't magic; it was hyper-observation. The skill allowed him to notice the micro-limp, the way Hadi shifted his weight 0.1 seconds slower when turning left.
Mechanical flaw detected.
Rio received the ball. Instead of passing to the open man, he dribbled directly at Hadi's left side.
Hadi tried to turn. His knee buckled slightly. He hesitated.
Rio breeze past him without sprinting. He didn't use speed; he used the defender's own injury against him.
Next, he looked at Farid, the winger.
[VULTURE'S EYE ACTIVE]Target: Farid Mental State: Frustrated / Unfocused.
Rio saw Farid glancing at the coach, worried about his position. Mental fatigue cue.
When Bambang attempted a pass to Farid, Rio didn't sprint to intercept. He simply stepped into the lane before Bambang even kicked the ball, knowing Farid was too distracted to check into the space.
Rio intercepted the pass calmly.
He didn't run. He just stood still and let the game come to him.
Coach Bima watched, confused but impressed.
"His movement is slow," Bima muttered to his assistant. "But his decision-making is instantaneous. He hasn't wasted a single touch. It's like he knows they are broken before they do."
THE EVE OF JUDGMENT
The Night Before the Final Trial.
The final friendly match before the U-20 Squad selection was set against the Senior National Team's B-Squad.
The stakes were astronomical. Playing against adults—professionals—was a different physical reality.
Guntur Wijaya, the Head Scout, had arrived and was setting up his monitoring station right on the sideline. He had brought a medical team.
Rio lay in his bunk, visualizing the field.
[CURRENT LIFESPAN: 44 Days, 06 Hours]Note: Two days of light training have consumed two days of life.
He had 44 days left. He needed to win this match to secure his place and earn the lifespan necessary to make it to the qualifiers.
"Guntur will be watching your collapse, Rio," Specter warned, hovering in the dark. "He will look for signs of your heart defect. He knows you have no stamina."
"He won't see my heart," Rio said, his voice flat. "He will only see my mind."
Rio looked at the clock. The match was at 19:00 tomorrow. He had hours to wait. Hours to think about the 44 days.
He realized the cold, terrible truth of his existence: His life was now dictated entirely by his opponents' weakness. He couldn't afford to be the hero who outran everyone. He had to be the villain who waited for them to fall.
He had to be the vulture.
THE FEAST BEGINS
The Next Day. Final Trial Match.
The stadium lights glared down on the pitch at the Madya Stadium. The tension was suffocating.
Rio stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Bambang.
"No tricks today, Valdes," Bambang whispered in Indonesian, his eyes hard. "You pass to me. I score. We win. No more collapsing on the pitch. If you die, die off the field."
Rio looked ahead. He saw the Senior B-Squad defenders. They were older men, professionals in their late 20s. They were physically massive compared to the U-20 boys, but they looked bored. They looked at the kids as a warm-up.
Rio took a deep breath. He activated the [Vulture's Eye] one final time before kickoff.
He didn't see the Senior B-Squad defenders as formidable opponents.
He saw the heavy breathing of the 30-year-old captain. He saw the taped-up ankle of the defensive midfielder. He saw the arrogance in their relaxed shoulders.
[VULTURE'S EYE: TARGET RICH ENVIRONMENT]
Rio smirked. It was a cold, hungry expression.
"No tricks, Captain," Rio replied calmly. "Just perfect football."
I'm not going to play football, Rio thought. I'm going to eat.
The referee blew the whistle.
KICK OFF.