Ghost Archipelago: The Price of Glory
Chapter 1: The Tragedy of the Leaderboard
Ten years ago, the world witnessed the meteoric rise of Guinea and the dramatic fall of Denmark. Now, the Ghost Archipelago—the tournament that turned nations into pawns in a wicked game—returns for its third season. New rivalries, secrets, and the shadow of a cursed third-place finish loom large.
The breeze from Bogotá was as sharp as the anxiety gnawing at Don Ramon's soul. He was in his office at the Colombian Football Federation, a space that was once a temple of glory, now resembling a mausoleum. His eyes flickered over the screen. There had to be an explanation, a quadratic equation, a conspiracy… anything. But the leaderboard was relentless.
Colombia: 1st place. 68 points.
The irony was a punch in the gut. They were the leaders. Unbeatable, almost. But if you looked at the list below, terror materialized.
Mariana Islands: 2nd place. 61 points. Goal Difference +39.
Don Ramon choked. "+39," he whispered. The Mariana Islands, a tiny archipelago with a population smaller than his neighborhood, had a goal difference that seemed to have been created with a cheat code. How? Rumors said they had an underwater training camp, where their players progressed at a superhuman pace. Others, more realistic, claimed it was pure table manipulation.
Brazil was somewhere below 20th place. Germany was in a shameful 9th place. And meanwhile, the world watched the rise of unlikely nations. Seychelles, Cambodia, Iceland, the Netherlands… all fighting for the podium.
Germany, by the way, was just below Lebanon. He saw the Germans' goal difference: +3. Poor Germany. The engine of the world, reduced to a broken pocket calculator. Its players, once known for their Prussian discipline, now resembled a group of lost tourists. Brazil? Well, Brazil seemed to have forgotten how to play. They were stuck in Division B, and the national shame was so great that the country's currency, the Real, was worth less than a Neymar sticker.
Don Ramon continued scrolling, and his stomach churned. Down at the bottom of the table, where the air grew thin and despair set in, the abyss.
26. Matulo: 48 points.
27. Liechtenstein: 48 points.
28. Greece: 42 points.
Greece, once the cradle of civilization, now struggled to avoid being the laughingstock of the Ghost Archipelago. Their score was an insult. Their goal difference, -31. This wasn't football; it was a Sophocles tragedy staged on a soccer field. With each match, they seemed not only to have lost, but also to have forgotten how to defend themselves. Rumors had it that their players were playing in sandals and tunics, just to honor the past.
And Ireland? The nation of beer, they were in 10th place. Don Ramon wondered if the secret was playing drunk. Estonia, Thailand, Hong Kong… the list went on with names that, in his mind, should have been vacation destinations, not Ghost Archipelago powerhouses.
Interestingly, Israel, a country known for having one of the most powerful armies in the world, was in 14th place, tied with Curaçao. Don Ramon laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. War, in this world, wasn't fought with tanks, but with soccer balls. The worst enemy was a team that couldn't score.
Don Ramon's phone rang. It was the president of the federation. He glanced at the screen. Colombia was at the top, but he felt the Ghost Archipelago's sword of Damocles hanging over his head. The 68 points were a nice number, but the goal difference, +13, was a warning.
"Don Ramon," the voice on the other end rang out. "We're in first place. The people are happy, but… why are the Mariana Islands in second? And why is Brazil in 20th?"
"Mr. President," he replied, his voice breaking, "it's the Archipelago. It's not about what we know. It's about what they want us to do."
He knew the truth. It wasn't about goals, nor about victories. It was about survival. And in the Ghost Archipelago, the only thing easier than going up was falling.