Girona U18 locker room.
Twenty young men sat glued to the small, mounted television in the corner.
"...a devastating 3-0 loss to Celta Vigo leaves Girona sitting firmly in the relegation zone. With only five matches left in the La Liga season, the situation is critical. To make matters worse, the injury crisis has deepened. Captain Aleix Garcia and starting winger Savio both limped off the pitch today. Reports suggest muscle tears. They are out for the season."
Rio Lance sat on the wooden bench, his hands gripping the edge so hard his knuckles turned white.
"It's over," someone muttered from the back. "We're going down to the Second Division."
"Shut up," Mateo snapped. Mateo was the team's captain and starting center-back. He was also Rio's best friend.
"Five games is fifteen points. Anything can happen."
The door to the locker room slammed open, startling half the team. Coach Martinez marched in, looking like he hadn't slept in a week.
"Turn that garbage off," Martinez barked.
One of the goalkeepers scrambled to hit the power button.
Coach Martinez paced the center of the room. "You heard the news. The first team is bleeding.. The sporting director just called me."
Rio felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Every player in the room straightened up.
"Tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM, the first-team manager, Michel, will be here," Martinez announced, his voice echoing off the lockers.
"He needs bodies. He needs legs that aren't broken. Specifically, he needs a winger and a midfielder to fill the bench for the match against Real Betis this weekend."
A collective gasp swept through the room. A chance to play in La Liga. A chance to save the club.
It was the moment every kid in Spain dreamed of from the moment they could walk.
"Do not celebrate," Martinez warned, narrowing his eyes. "This isn't a reward. It's a rescue mission. He's going to run a trial session tomorrow. If you aren't ready to die on that pitch, don't bother showing up. Dismissed."
The coach turned and left as abruptly as he had arrived.
The instant the door clicked shut, the locker room exploded.
"Did you hear that? La Liga! Against Betis!"
"I need to call my dad!"
"I need to clean my boots!"
Rio didn't move. He felt like he had swallowed a stone. He slowly untied his laces, his fingers trembling slightly.
"Earth to Rio," a voice called out. A towel landed on Rio's head.
Rio pulled it off to see Mateo grinning down at him. "Why the long face, Hermano? This is the shot. The big one."
Rio sighed, dropping the towel on the bench. "Mateo, be real. Look at the competition. The first team needs a winger. That's my position. But look who I'm up against." He gestured vaguely at the other players who were already juggling the ball and showing off.
"Carlos has a touch like silk. David can shoot from thirty yards. Me? I'm just... fast."
Mateo sat down next to him and began unlacing his own boots. "Rio, you aren't just 'fast'. You run the 100 meters in under eleven seconds. You're a cheetah in human skin. When you start sprinting, the defenders look like they're running in quicksand."
"Yeah," Rio laughed bitterly. "I'm a Ferrari engine." He tapped the side of his head.
"But I have square wheels. What's the point of beating the defender if I cross the ball into the parking lot? Or if I dribble straight out of play?"
It was the harsh truth that had haunted Rio's entire time at the academy.
He was a genetic anomaly of speed. He could knock the ball past anyone and catch it. But once he got to the goal? It was a disaster.
He was the "Kick and Run" merchant. In the U18 league, he could get away with it sometimes. But in La Liga? Against professional defenders? They would eat him alive.
"You're overthinking it," Mateo said, slapping Rio on the back. "Just kick it past the fullback, run, and close your eyes when you shoot. Maybe you'll get lucky."
"Inspiring advice, Cap," Rio grumbled, stuffing his kit into his bag.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Get some sleep, Flash!" Mateo called out.
The walk home to his small apartment in the old quarter of Girona was usually Rio's favorite part of the day.
He loved the cobblestone streets and the colorful houses lining the Onyar River.
Rio walked with his head down, kicking a small pebble along the path.
Tomorrow is going to be humiliating, he thought. Manager Michel is going to watch me sprint past a cone, get excited, and then watch me trip over the ball. I'll be cut. Not just from the trial, but maybe from the academy next season.
He was eighteen. If he didn't break through now, he'd be sent to a third-division team, then a fourth. He'd end up playing Sunday league while working at his uncle's bakery.
Not that there was anything wrong with baking bread, but Rio wanted to bake defenders.
He unlocked the door to his apartment. It was messy. FIFA game cases were scattered on the coffee table, and a half-eaten bag of chips sat on the counter.
Rio tossed his gym bag into the corner and collapsed face-first onto his bed. He didn't even bother turning on the lights.
"I just need a miracle," he whispered into his pillow. "Just a little bit of technique. Is that too much to ask?"
He rolled over and stared at the ceiling fan spinning lazily. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, intending to set his alarm for 6:00 AM.
The screen lit up, blinding him for a second.
He swiped to unlock it, but the screen froze.
"Come on," Rio groaned, tapping the glass.
"Don't die on me now. I can't afford a new one."
Suddenly, the screen turned completely black. Then, a single line of bright green text appeared in the center, looking like something out of an old retro video game.
[Connecting to Server...]
"What the...?" Rio sat up, frowning.
"Is this a virus? Did Mateo send me that weird link again?"
[Connection Established.]
[Scanning User Potential...]
[User Identified: Rio Lance. Attribute: Speed (S). Technique: (F-). Mental: (D).]
Rio's jaw dropped. "Hey! My mental isn't a D! I'm very resilient!" He found himself arguing with a phone screen, which was probably a sign that his mental state was indeed questionable.
[Welcome, User Rio.]
[You have been invited to join the Football Legends Chat Group!]
[Do you accept? Y/N]
Rio stared at the blinking cursor. It had to be a prank. But his thumb hovered over the 'Y'.
He was desperate. He was lonely. And frankly, he was curious.
"If this asks for my credit card, I'm deleting it," he muttered.
He tapped Y.
Ding!
The interface changed instantly. It looked like a standard messaging app but the background was a subtle, shifting pattern of grass pitches and golden trophies.
A message popped up immediately.
[System]: Rio Lance has joined the chat!
Rio squinted at the member list. It was small. Only three other people were online.
King_10: Oh? A new rookie? It's been decades since the System invited anyone new. Which era is he from?
Hand_Of_King: He better be Argentine. If he's another Brazilian, I'm muting the chat. We have enough samba nonsense in here already.
Total_Football_14: Stop bickering, you two. Let's look at his stats. System, display profile.
Rio blinked. The usernames. King 10? Hand of King? Total Football 14?
"No way," Rio whispered, his heart starting to hammer against his ribs.
"Pele? Maradona? Cruyff?"
It was impossible. These men were legends. Some of them were... well, no longer on this earth. This had to be an AI bot. A role-playing group.
His fingers flew across the keyboard.
Rio_Lance: Is this a joke? Who are you guys?
Hand_Of_King: A joke? The kid has an attitude. I like him. Much better than Pele, who acts like a corporate mascot.
King_10: Respect your elders, Diego. And you, boy. We are the echoes of the greatest to ever play the game. We are stuck here in this digital limbo, bored out of our minds, waiting for someone interesting to guide.
Rio_Lance: Guide?
Total_Football_14: Precisely. We exist to pass on our understanding. But the System is picky. It usually picks talents with 'Golden Potential'. Let me see your data...
Total_Football_14: Oh dear.
King_10: My eyes.
Hand_Of_King: Hahaha! Look at that Dribbling stat! It's a 12 out of 100! I've seen traffic cones with better ball control!
Rio felt his face flush red. Even in a magical supernatural chat group, he was getting roasted.
Rio_Lance: I'm fast, okay! I run the 100m in 10.8s!
King_10: Speed is useful. But without control, speed is just a quicker way to lose the ball. A headless chicken is also fast, my son.
Total_Football_14: However... the boy is in a crisis. The System only activates when a career is at a tipping point. Boy, what is happening tomorrow?
Rio hesitated. If this was a hallucination, he might as well play along.
Rio_Lance: My team is in the relegation zone. The first-team coach is coming tomorrow to pick a winger. If I don't impress him, I might get cut from the academy. I have zero technique. I'm going to fail.
Hand_Of_King: Desperation. Fear. The smell of relegation. I love it! It reminds me of Napoli in the early days. Listen, kid. You can't learn to dribble like me in one night. My left foot was kissed by angels. Yours looks like it was stepped on by a horse.
Rio winced.
Hand_Of_King: BUT... you don't need to be me. You just need to cheat a little.
Rio_Lance: Cheat?
King_10: Diego, do not teach the boy to use his hands.
Hand_Of_King: Quiet, Pele. I'm talking about a Red Packet. Kid, touch the icon shaped like a gift box.
Rio looked at the bottom of the screen. There was indeed a small, glowing red gift box icon.
Hand_Of_King: I'm sending you a 'One-Time Consumable'. It's a technique I used to use when my ankles were swollen, and I needed to get past a butcher of a defender. It's not permanent, but it will last for 10 minutes of active play.
Ding!
A massive golden notification filled the screen.
[User 'Hand_Of_King' has sent you a Red Packet!]
[Item: "The La Gambeta feint (Basic Version)"]
[Description: For 10 minutes, your body will instinctively know how to drop the shoulder and accelerate in the opposite direction with perfect balance. Dribbling +40. Agility +20.]
Rio stared at the phone. His hands were shaking.
Total_Football_14: A generous gift. But speed and a feint are not enough if you don't know where to run. I will add a small gift. A 'Vision Fragment'. It will let you see the passing lanes for exactly one possession.
Ding!
[User 'Total_Football_14' has sent you a Red Packet!]
[Item: "The Clockwork Eye (One Use)"]
King_10: Well, I suppose I cannot be the only cheap one. But I will not give you a skill. I will give you a condition. If you make the first team, I will teach you how to shoot properly. If you fail tomorrow... I ban you from the group.
The stakes were set.
Rio swallowed hard. He tapped the screen to claim the items. A weird sensation, like a warm electrical current, flowed from his fingertips up his arms and settled in his chest.
He stood up, looking at his feet. He grabbed the dirty football lying in the corner of his room. Usually, when he touched it, it felt like a foreign object.
But now... as he rolled it under his sole, it felt like an extension of his body. He dropped his shoulder to the left, feinted, and snapped the ball to the right.
The movement was fluid.
"Whoa," Rio breathed.
He looked back at the phone.
Rio_Lance: Thank you. I won't let you down.
Hand_Of_King: Go to sleep, roadrunner. Tomorrow, you shock the world.
Rio turned off the phone and lay back in the dark. His heart was still racing, but the fear was gone. Replaced by a thrill he hadn't felt in years.