Milan, Italy.Stadio San Siro.Matchday 1. Sunday, 14:00 PM.
The San Siro wasn't just a stadium; it was a cathedral of concrete and intimidation. Its eleven cylindrical towers spiraled into the sky like the legs of a giant brutalist spider. As the Bologna team bus drove into the underground tunnel, the vibration of 75,000 jumping fans didn't just shake the windows—it shook the bones of everyone inside.
Rio Valdes pressed his hand against the cold glass. He had played in Jakarta, in front of passionate crowds. But this was different. This was the Scala del Calcio. The air smelled of flares, espresso, and glorious history.
"Scared, Tourist?" Lorenzo De Luca sat across from him. The Captain looked grim, his usual arrogance evaporated. He wasn't bullying Rio today. He was staring at his phone, watching highlight clips of his opponent: Rafael Leão. Lorenzo's hands were shaking slightly. "You should be," Lorenzo muttered, his voice hollow. "Because today, we are just meat for the lions."
The Locker Room.
Coach Rossi stood in the center of the room, looking smaller than usual. The whiteboard behind him was covered in frantic red arrows. "Milan plays a 4-2-3-1," Rossi shouted over the muffled roar of the crowd above. "Their left side is nuclear. Theo Hernandez and Rafael Leão. They are faster than you. They are stronger than you. They cost more than our entire club combined."
Rossi slammed his hand on the board, erasing a tactic. "Do not attack. We park the bus. We survive. A 0-0 draw is a victory today. Understood?"
"Yes, Coach!" the team roared, but their voices lacked conviction. They sounded like condemned men walking to the gallows.
Rio sat in the corner, tying his boots. He was a substitute. He opened his phone. A message from Adrian Vance popped up.
[Adrian]:I'm in the SkyBox. The data is ugly. Milan's average sprint speed is 33 km/h. Ours is 29 km/h. Don't look at Leão directly. He smells fear.
Rio swallowed hard. He put his phone away and walked into the tunnel.
The Tunnel.
This was the moment reality hit. On the left side: The Bologna players. Tense. Sweating. Praying. On the right side: AC Milan. The Rossoneri.
Rio looked up. Standing a few meters away was Rafael Leão. The Portuguese winger was smiling, chewing gum, looking completely relaxed. He stood 188cm tall, leaning against the wall like a model on a runway, seemingly bored by the concept of pressure. Beside him was Theo Hernandez, with pink-dyed hair and thighs that looked like hydraulic pistons. And the goalkeeper, Mike Maignan, staring forward with the intensity of a sniper.
[SYSTEM SCAN]
[Target: Rafael Leão][Role: Winger][Overall Rating: 89 (World Class)][Dribbling: 94][Pace: 96][Special Trait: "The Smiling Assassin" (Attributes increase by 10% when playing with joy)]
[Target: Theo Hernandez][Role: Fullback][Overall Rating: 87][Physicality: 90][Special Trait: "The Bullet Train" (Cannot be stopped by Force once at top speed)]
Rio felt sick. His own rating was 62. This wasn't a gap. This was a canyon. If I play against them, Rio thought, I won't just lose lifespan. I might lose my actual life.
Kick-off.First Half.
Rio sat on the bench, wrapped in a training jacket, watching the slaughter. The game began. And it was a massacre.
Minute 7. Milan attacked. Leão received the ball on the left wing. Lorenzo De Luca (Bologna Captain) stepped up to tackle him. Lorenzo was strong. He was the "Bully" who had terrified Rio in training. But against Leão? Leão didn't even use a skill. He didn't need a System. He was the System. He just pushed the ball forward and ran. VROOM. Leão accelerated past Lorenzo as if the Captain was a statue. Lorenzo tried to grab his shirt, but Leão shrugged him off like a fly. Cross. Giroud header. GOAL.Milan 1 - 0 Bologna.
Rio stared. Lorenzo, the man who nearly broke Rio's ankle, looked like a child chasing a Ferrari.
Minute 34.Theo Hernandez picked up the ball in his own half. He started running. One Bologna midfielder tried to tackle him. Bounced off. A second defender tried to slide. Too slow. Theo ran 60 meters alone. A freight train in pink boots destroying everything in its path. He smashed the ball into the top corner. GOAL.Milan 2 - 0 Bologna.
The San Siro erupted. The song "Pioli is on fire" echoed around the arena. Coach Rossi sat on the bench, head in his hands. His "Park the Bus" tactic had exploded in 30 minutes.
Rio looked at his System Shop. He felt desperate. If I go in... what can I do? My "Matador" skill only works for evasion. I can't outrun Theo. I can't outmuscle Leão.
He checked his Lifespan. [361 Days, 06 Hours].
He needed a weapon. Not a defensive one. An offensive one. Something that didn't rely on speed or strength. Something that relied on... Chaos.
Halftime.
The locker room was silent. It felt like a funeral home. Lorenzo was icing his knee, looking defeated, staring at the floor. Rossi paced around the room. He knew he was about to lose his job if this humiliation continued. He stopped in front of the bench warmers.
"We have no attack," Rossi muttered. "We have zero shots on target. We are embarrassing the badge." He looked at the veteran striker on the bench. Then he looked at Rio. Rio Valdes. The "Marketing Stunt". The kid with the magic eyes.
"Valdes," Rossi said, his voice cracking slightly. Rio stood up instantly. "Warm up. You go in at Minute 60."
The other players looked up, shocked. "Coach," Lorenzo protested weakly. "He's a kid. Theo will eat him alive. Don't sacrifice him." "You were eaten alive, Lorenzo!" Rossi snapped. "At least the kid might do something unpredictable. We have nothing left to lose."
Rossi grabbed Rio's shoulder. "I don't expect you to win," Rossi whispered. "I expect you to try. Don't play safe. We are already dead. So play like a ghost."
Minute 60.Score: Milan 2 - 0 Bologna.
The Fourth Official raised the electronic board. OUT: #7 (Orsolini)IN: #10 (Valdes)
A chorus of boos and whistles rained down from the Milan fans. But even worse, the Bologna fans in the away section groaned. "Rossi is giving up!" a fan screamed near the dugout. "Why put in a child? Is this a joke?"
Rio stepped onto the grass. The San Siro pitch was huge. The players looked like giants. Theo Hernandez jogged past him, wiping sweat. Theo didn't even look at Rio. To Theo, Rio was just another NPC (Non-Player Character) to bypass.
Rio took a deep breath. He touched the Tactical Lens item in his inventory. Duration remaining: 0. (Expired during the Reserve Match).
He was blind again. No minimap. Just his raw stats (Vision 50) and his one active skill. [The Cannon]. Cost: 7 Days (Per Shot). [The Matador]. Passive (Evasion).
I need something else, Rio thought. He opened the Shop while jogging to his position. He needed a Positioning Skill. Something to unlock this defense.
[Skill: The Snipe (Andrea Pirlo)][Effect: 100% Long Pass Accuracy.][Cost: 20 Days (Permanent)]Too expensive.
[Skill: The Ghost (Thomas Müller)][Archetype: Raumdeuter (Space Investigator)][Effect: Passive. Reduces "Presence" to near zero when making off-ball runs. Defenders' AI/Focus will naturally slide off the user. Increases Positioning Stat by 200% inside the penalty box.][Cost: 10 Days (Permanent)]
Ten days. Rio bit his lip. If he bought this, he would drop below 350 days. It was a massive investment. But look at them. Look at Leão laughing. Look at Theo yawning. They didn't respect him. They didn't even see him.
"Good," Rio whispered. "If you don't see me, you can't stop me."
[PURCHASE CONFIRMED][Skill Acquired: The Ghost (Passive)][Remaining Lifespan: 351 Days]
Rio felt a strange sensation wash over him. A cold, gray veil seemed to wrap around his body. His presence seemed to fade from the reality of the pitch. When he walked past a Milan defender, the defender didn't look at him. It was as if Rio had become part of the background noise—like a goalpost or a corner flag.
The game restarted. Milan had the ball. Rio waited in the shadows of the defenders. I am a ghost, Rio told himself. And ghosts haunt the living.