The confetti fell like digital snow, catching the stadium lights in a shimmering, endless cascade. The roar of the crowd was a physical force, a wave of sound that seemed to lift Aethelgard FC right off the pitch. Kairo stood amidst the chaos, Taro's arm slung around his neck, Daichi pounding him on the back, the weight of the moment too immense to process. He saw Kenji, tears cutting clean lines through the grime on his face, still clutching the massive holographic trophy as if it were a lifeline.
Then, cutting through the sensory overload, the most beautiful notification he had ever seen appeared, its text glowing with a serene, golden light.
[IRONBLOOD GAUNTLET: VICTORY!]
[PRIZE CREDITS: 10,000]
[Distribution: Team Coffers]
[ADDITIONAL REWARD: Copper League Qualification Token – Granted.]
It was real. It was over. They had won.
The aftermath was a blur of official ceremonies, interviews with in-game sports journalists, and a hundred flashing camera orbs. Through it all, Kairo felt a strange detachment. The adulation, the questions about his incredible dribble and his tactical shift to "Total Football"—it all felt like it was happening to someone else. The high-stakes pressure of the last three hours had evaporated, leaving a hollow, echoing quiet in his mind, and a single, focused thought: Log out.
He found Taro in the Champions' Sanctuary, already surrounded by a group of excited fans. "Kairo! Can you believe it? They want our autographs!"
"I need to go," Kairo said, his voice low.
Taro's grin didn't falter, but his eyes softened with understanding. He clapped Kairo on the shoulder. "Go. Tell them. We'll handle the fans."
With a nod, Kairo found a quiet corner. But before he could log out, his communication panel exploded with a symphony of chimes far more frantic than any he'd heard before. Dozens of messages, all flagged as high-priority sponsorship and business inquiries, flooded his view. Curiosity overriding his urgency for a moment, he opened the first few.
From: 'Vortex Energy Drink'
Previous Offer: 500 Credits/Endorsement
New Offer: 2,500 Credits + 5% of sales featuring your avatar for one season. Requirement: Exclusive beverage partnership. Must display logo prominently on kit.
From: 'Aegis Hardware Corp'
Offer: 4,000 Credits + top-tier 'Stormforged' peripheral set (Neural Link Latency -8%, Reaction Time +5%). Requirement: Use our hardware in all official matches and streams. Mandatory promotional live-streams (4 per month).
From: 'Neo-Osaka United (Silvercrest League Team)'
Offer: Scouting Contract. 5,000 Credit signing bonus. 10,000 Credits/month salary. Requirement: Immediate transfer. Dissolution of Aethelgard FC.
From: 'Phantom Step Boots'
Offer: 1,500 Credits + custom 'Mirage' boot set (Dribble +3, Agility +2). Requirement: Exclusive footwear partnership. Social media promotion (3 posts/week).
From: 'Tactician's Guild'
Offer: 3,000 Credits + access to advanced analytics suite. Requirement: Share all match data and tactical formulations. Adopt Guild-approved strategies in 50% of matches.
The numbers were staggering. Life-changing sums that promised to solve all his family's problems in one fell swoop. The Neo-Osaka United offer alone was more money than his parents had earned in the last two years combined. For a terrifying second, the temptation was a physical ache in his chest. He could take it. He could sign, get the money, and secure Hana's treatment tomorrow.
But as he read the fine print, his heart sank. The exclusivity clauses, the mandatory promotions, the dissolution of his team… they weren't just buying his skill; they were buying his identity, his freedom, and his friendships. The Aegis offer would force him to stream when he should be training or with his family. The Tactician's Guild would turn his creative symphony into a pre-composed, soulless algorithm.
He thought of Taro's unwavering belief, of Jiro playing through a severe injury, of Kenji's heroic saves. He thought of the "Total Football" symphony they had created together. These offers weren't a reward for that; they were a mechanism to dismantle it.
With a calm that surprised him, he selected all the messages. He created a single, blanket response.
"Thank you for your interest in Aethelgard FC. All sponsorship and transfer inquiries are now to be directed to our team manager, Taro. We are not considering individual offers that conflict with our team's integrity or core roster. We are a package deal."
He attached Taro's contact information, knowing his friend would relish the role and be a far better negotiator, then finally selected Log Out.
The world dissolved. The roar of the crowd faded into the low, persistent hum of the VR pod. The scent of ozone and synthetic grass was replaced by the faint, familiar smell of disinfectant and old polymer. The pod hissed open, and the real world rushed in—the dim light of the Neo-Nexus Arcade, the muffled sounds of the city outside, and the profound, bone-deep weariness that was no longer simulated.
He pushed the pod door open and stumbled out, his real legs shaky and weak. The arcade owner, a grizzled man named Joe who had seen a thousand dreams born and broken in his pods, gave him a rare, slow nod of respect. "Heard the commotion in there. Sounded like you kids did something big. Your friend Taro's already in Pod 3, talking some corporate guy's ear off about 'brand synergy'."
Kairo managed a weak, genuine smile. "He's the manager." Then he headed for the door.
The night air of Neo-Osaka was cold and damp, a shock to his system. He walked through the neon-drenched streets, the glittering advertisements feeling alien and trivial. His mind wasn't on the game or the rejected offers. It was on the number he had control over. 10,000.
He reached his apartment building, its facade stained and crumbling. He took the creaking elevator up, the journey feeling longer than ever. When he slid the door open, the scene that greeted him was exactly as he had left it, and yet, completely transformed.
His father was standing, not sitting, his posture rigid with a tension that had nothing to do with worry. His mother had her hands clasped over her mouth, her eyes red-rimmed but wide. Hana was bouncing on the balls of her feet, unable to contain herself.
"You… you won?" his father asked, his voice a husked, disbelieving thing.
Kairo didn't speak. He walked to the family's old holographic terminal, its surface scratched and dusty. He pressed his thumb to the scanner, logged into his secure banking interface linked to Legends of the Arena, and initiated the transfer. He typed the number with deliberate, sacred slowness.
10,000 Credits.
He designated the transfer: 5,000 to Family Fund. 5,000 to Team Aethelgard Treasury.
He hit confirm.
For a moment, nothing. Then, a soft chime echoed in the small, silent room. The terminal screen updated. The family's balance, which had been a desperate, blinking red for years, now showed a number that felt mythical. 5,847 Credits.
The silence that followed was more profound than any stadium's roar. His mother let out a choked sob, her hands falling from her face. His father's rigid posture collapsed; he sank into his chair, his shoulders shaking with silent, shuddering tears of relief. It was the first time Kairo had ever seen his father cry.
Hana broke the silence. "Does this mean… the medicine? The real kind?"
Kairo finally found his voice, rough with emotion. "It means whatever we need it to mean."
The dam broke then. There were no cheers, no wild celebrations like in the virtual world. This was deeper. It was his mother hugging him so tightly he thought his ribs would crack, her tears soaking his shirt. It was his father gripping his shoulder, his calloused hand trembling, unable to form words. It was Hana clinging to his leg, her small body trembling with a hope she had almost forgotten.
They ordered real food—not nutrient paste, but actual, hot, delivered food. As they sat around the small table, the atmosphere was surreal, a mixture of giddy disbelief and a quiet, settling peace. They talked about practical things for the first time in years—about contacting a better specialist for Hana, about maybe moving to an apartment with cleaner air, about his father cutting back to a single shift.
It was the most victorious moment of Kairo's life.
Later, as Hana slept and his parents spoke in hushed, hopeful tones in the other room, Kairo finally allowed the other world to seep back in. He saw a message from Taro.
Taro: YOU ARE A GENIUS! I've already got three companies in a bidding war for our kit sponsorship! We're going to be rich! And we stay together! Don't worry, I've got this!
Kairo smiled. He had made the right choice.
But two other messages waited, sobering in their tone.
The first was from Kaito Hoshino. It was brief.
Kaito:Not bad. The symphony had a decent first movement. Don't get complacent. The real orchestras are in the Golden Phoenix League. I'll be waiting.
It was no longer a recruitment attempt. It was a recognition. A challenge issued from a higher league.
The second was from Ryunosuke Takeda.
Ryu:Your 'Total Football' adaptation had a 73% success rate in disrupting synergistic systems. However, its sustainability against prolonged, structured pressure is statistically unproven. Your decision to forgo immediate individual capital in favor of team stability is a fascinating variable. The Copper League will provide sufficient data for my model.
Kairo closed the messages. The virtual world was already re-asserting its pull, with new rivals and new challenges. But for the first time, it didn't feel like a desperate escape from reality. It felt like an extension of it. His success here, built on the foundation of his team, had just bought his family a future. The pressure was still there, but its nature had changed. It was no longer the pressure to stave off disaster, but the pressure to build something lasting.
He looked over at his sleeping sister, her breathing even and calm. He had given her hope. Now, he had to ensure he could give her a cure.
The Gauntlet was won. The Copper League awaited. But tonight, for the first time in a long time, the Ren family slept without the gnawing fear of tomorrow.