Stadio San Siro.Second Half. Minute 68.Score: Milan 2 - 0 Bologna.
The game continued. The noise of 75,000 fans was a physical weight pressing down on the pitch. But for Rio Valdes, the world had gone eerily quiet.
He was jogging near the Milan penalty box, right into the territory of Fikayo Tomori. Normally, a Number 10 wandering into Tomori's zone would be smashed instantly. Tomori was an aggressive defender who ate strikers for breakfast.
But Tomori didn't smash him. Tomori looked through him. Rio watched as Tomori's eyes scanned the field, locking onto Bologna's striker, Zirkzee. Tomori's brain registered Rio, but tagged him as "Low Threat"—ignoring him like a referee or a discarded water bottle.
[Passive Active: The Ghost][Perception Filter: ON][Threat Level detected by Defenders: 0.1%]
It works, Rio thought, his heart pounding against his ribs. I'm not invisible physically, but I'm invisible cognitively.
Rio didn't sprint. He walked. He strolled into the gap between Tomori and the left-back, Theo Hernandez. He raised his hand for a pass from his teammate, Ferguson. But Ferguson looked right at him... and then turned away. Ferguson passed to Zirkzee instead. Zirkzee was tackled. Ball lost.
Rio sighed. The skill is a double-edged sword. Even my own team thinks I'm useless.
Minute 82.Score: 2 - 0.
Bologna was surviving, barely. Coach Rossi was screaming on the sideline, looking at his watch, praying for the final whistle to end the suffering.
Milan grew complacent. They were winning comfortably against a team that offered zero threat. Theo Hernandez bombed forward again, leaving his defensive post empty to join the attack. Bologna intercepted the ball. A lucky deflection landed at the feet of Jesper Karlsson (the winger who had subbed in).
"Counter!" Rossi screamed, his voice cracking.
Karlsson sprinted down the right flank. The Milan defense shifted violently. Tomori and Thiaw sprinted back to cover the center.
Rio was at the halfway line. He saw the chaos. Everyone was sprinting at 30 km/h toward the goal. The defenders were watching the ball carrier. Rio didn't sprint. He jogged at a weird, diagonal angle.
He wasn't running toward the ball. He was running toward the Shadow. He looked at the defensive line. Tomori was watching Karlsson. Thiaw was watching Zirkzee. There was a pocket of space at the far post—a "Blind Spot" roughly two meters wide where no one was looking.
There, Rio thought.
He moved into the box. He walked past Thiaw. Thiaw's elbow actually brushed Rio's chest, but the defender didn't react. His brain filtered Rio out as "harmless background noise." Rio arrived at the far post. He was completely unmarked. He could have set up a picnic table and eaten lunch there without anyone noticing.
Karlsson, trapped by defenders on the wing, whipped a desperate, blind cross into the box. It wasn't aimed at anyone. It was a "Hail Mary." It was a bad cross. Too high. Zirkzee jumped but missed it. Tomori jumped to clear it, but misjudged the flight.
The ball sailed over the chaos... dropping toward the empty far post. Toward the ghost.
Mike Maignan, the Milan goalkeeper, shifted across his line. He expected the ball to go out for a goal kick. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw movement. A flash of red and blue that shouldn't be there.
Where did he come from?! Maignan's eyes widened.
Rio didn't control the ball. He didn't have time. He let the ball drop. He didn't use [The Cannon]. He didn't need power. He just used the inside of his foot. A simple, technical tap-in.
Plop.
He guided the ball into the opposite corner, wrong-footing the keeper.
GOAL.
Milan 2 - 1 Bologna.
The net rippled softly. For a split second, nobody cheered. The fans were confused. Who scored? Was he offside? Then, the referee pointed to the center circle. Goal Valid.
Rio didn't run to the corner flag. He picked the ball up out of the net. He turned to face the shocked Milan defenders. Tomori looked at Thiaw. "I thought you had him!" Thiaw looked at Theo. "I thought he was yours!" Theo looked around, bewildered. "I didn't even see him enter the box."
Rio jogged back to the center circle, clutching the ball. He looked at the scoreboard. 83rd Minute. Seven minutes left.
Minute 88.Milan Panic.
The atmosphere changed instantly. The "Ghost" effect deactivated the moment Rio touched the ball. Now, Milan saw him. And they were angry. Rafael Leão stopped smiling. "Give me the ball," Leão demanded.
Milan launched an assault. They wanted to kill the game. Leão dribbled past three Bologna players and smashed a shot against the post. Bologna countered again.
Rio received the ball in the midfield. [The Ghost] was active again, but now he had the ball. The stealth broke. Immediately, Ismaël Bennacer (Milan's defensive midfielder) tackled him. Hard. Rio saw it coming. He could have used The Matador to dodge. But dodging meant losing time. Taking the foul meant stopping the clock.
Take the hit, Rio decided.
WHACK. Bennacer plowed through him. Rio went down, rolling on the grass. Foul.
Rio stayed on the ground, clutching his shin, eating precious seconds. He checked his lifespan. [Lifespan: 351 Days, 06 Hours] He had scored. [Objective Complete: Score a Goal][Reward: +2 Days]Net Loss for this match: 8 Days. (Spent 10 for Ghost Skill).
Expensive goal, Rio thought, grimacing as the physio sprayed his leg. But I bought something money can't buy. Respect.
Full Time.Milan 2 - 1 Bologna.
The whistle blew. Bologna lost. But the away fans were applauding. They had seen fight in the last 10 minutes. They had seen a goal from the new Number 10.
Rio stood up, limping slightly. He felt a shadow loom over him. It was Olivier Giroud, the veteran Milan striker. The handsome Frenchman looked down at Rio and offered a hand.
"You," Giroud said in English, pulling Rio up. "That movement at the far post." Rio dusted off his shorts. "Luck."
"No," Giroud shook his head, a knowing smile on his face. "I made a career out of that run. You vanished, kid. You run like Inzaghi." Giroud patted Rio's head—a gesture of approval from a World Cup winner. "Keep playing like a ghost. It scares defenders more than speed."
Rio walked toward the tunnel, clutching Giroud's words like a trophy. Coach Rossi was waiting. He looked relieved that the score wasn't 5-0. "Valdes," Rossi grunted. "You ignored my defensive tactics."
"I played like a ghost, Coach," Rio replied tiredly. "Ghosts don't follow tactics."
Rossi stared at him, then let out a short, bark-like laugh. He slapped Rio on the back. "Get on the bus. You start next week against Juventus."
The Bus Ride Home.
Rio sat next to Adrian. The bus was quiet; losing is never fun, even a "good" loss. But Adrian was glowing. He was looking at his tablet with intense fascination.
"Look at this," Adrian shoved the screen in Rio's face. It was a broadcast replay with AI tracking lines. "The tracking cameras lost you three times," Adrian whispered excitedly. "The AI couldn't lock onto your jersey number when the skill was active. That skill... it doesn't just fool humans. It messes with perception algorithms."
Rio closed his eyes, leaning his head against the cold window. "It cost me 10 days, Adrian."
"And it earned you a starting spot against Juventus," Adrian countered. "And look at your Reputation tab."
Rio opened the System.
[Reputation Updated][Status: "The Phantom of San Siro"][Fan Base: +5,000 Followers][Media Interest: Rising]
"We are on the map," Adrian said, looking out at the passing lights of the highway. "But Juventus... they have the best defense in the league. Bremer and Danilo. They are disciplined. They don't lose focus like Milan."
Rio didn't answer. He was already asleep. His Bionic Heart hummed a lullaby. 353 Days left. (351 + 2 Reward).
He had survived the Devils of Milan. Now he had to face the Old Lady of Turin.