Leo walked with his hood up, staring at his feet. His ego hadn't just been bruised.. it had been tackled, stomped on, and laughed at by a kid named Manolo who probably ate rocks for breakfast.
Rio walked beside him, holding the ball under his arm. He didn't say "I told you so." He wanted to, but he knew that was the quickest way to make Leo quit forever.
"My ankle hurts," Leo muttered, breaking the silence. "That pitch is illegal. I'm going to sue the city council."
Rio chuckled softly. "Your ankle hurts because you tried to do a 360-spin on concrete against a defender who outweighs you by twenty kilos. It's physics, remember? Your favorite subject."
Leo stopped walking. He looked up, his face illuminated by the orange glow of a streetlamp. "I saw the pass, Rio. I swear. In my head, I saw the line. I knew exactly where the ball needed to go. But my legs... they just didn't listen."
"That's called rust, Leo," Rio said, spinning the ball on his finger. "Actually, it's worse than rust. You haven't played a real match in three years. You've been sitting in a chair leveling up characters in a video game while your own muscles forgot how to work."
Leo kicked a pebble, sending it skittering into a parked car's tire. "So what? I'm washed up at fifteen?"
"No," Rio said firmly. "You're a Ferrari engine inside a rusty chassis. The engine is your brain—that Vision stat of yours. It's incredible. I saw you looking for spaces I didn't even know existed."
Leo perked up slightly. "Really?"
"Yeah. But an engine can't run if the wheels are flat," Rio tapped Leo's chest. "You have zero stamina. Zero strength. You fell over because your body couldn't handle the command your brain sent it."
Leo frowned, crossing his arms. "So, what's the fix? Do I buy a potion?"
"You train," Rio said simply. "You wake up early. You run. You do squats until your legs burn. You touch the ball a thousand times a day until it listens to you again. It's boring. It hurts. But it's the only way."
Leo groaned, throwing his head back. "I hate grinding. Can't I just buy XP?"
"Not in this game, little brother," Rio grinned, wrapping an arm around Leo's neck and squeezing. "But hey, you signed the contract. You're a professional now. If you quit, Martinez will probably sue you."
"Fine," Leo grumbled, pushing Rio away but smiling just a tiny bit. "I'll do the squats. But if I get legs like a bodybuilder, I'm blaming you."
They reached their house. The lights were off downstairs; Mom and Dad were already asleep.
"Go ice your ankle," Rio whispered as they entered. "And get some sleep. The U16s run six kilometers on Mondays."
Leo's eyes widened in horror. "Six... kilometers?"
"Goodnight, genius," Rio laughed, heading up the stairs.
Rio entered his room and closed the door softly. He tossed his hoodie onto the chair and flopped onto his bed. His body was tired, but his mind was buzzing.
He grabbed his phone, but before he could unlock it, the System interface flickered to life in the air above him.
[System Notification!]
[Voice Lounge Active: 3 Users]
Rio's eyes narrowed. He mentally connected to the lounge.
"...I am telling you, it is obvious," Cruyff's voice was saying, sounding like Sherlock Holmes solving a case. "The hat-trick in the Youth League against Shakhtar. The arrogance. The age profile. There is only one player who fits the data."
"But is he really that good?" The Phenomenon (Ronaldo Nazario) asked. "I saw a clip. He is left-footed. He likes to cut inside. He reminds me of... well, not me, but maybe a young Rivellino."
"He is a child!" Hand_Of_King (Maradona) shouted. "But a child with venom. Rio! You are awake! Come in here."
I'm here, Rio projected his thought. Did you figure it out? Who is he?
Total_Football_14: We did some digging. The System allows us to access global football databases to compare stats. The user 'Phantom_X' refused to tell us, but his achievements gave him away.
Who is it? Rio asked, his heart beating faster. Is it someone from Madrid?
Total_Football_14: Close. It is the jewel of Barcelona. Lamine Yamal.
Rio froze. The breath caught in his throat.
Lamine Yamal?
He knew the name. Everyone knew the name. The kid was a sensation. He was sixteen years old—younger than Rio—and was already starting matches for Barcelona's First Team and the Spanish National Team. He was on covers of magazines. He was the "Chosen One."
Rio_Lance: Wait... Lamine is in this chat? But he's famous! Why would the System invite him?
The_Phenomenon_9: The System seeks potential, Rio. You have the potential of speed. He has the potential of... everything. He is a generational talent.
Hand_Of_King: And he is arrogant! Did you hear him? 'I will win the Ballon d'Or in three years.' I love it! That is the spirit! But Rio, this is bad news for you.
Why? Rio asked nervously.
Hand_Of_King: Because Barcelona is your rival. And he plays on the right wing. You play on the left. That means... you will face him directly.
Rio swallowed hard. He imagined lining up against Lamine Yamal. The kid was slippery, technical, and fast. And Rio was... well, he was Rio. A Level 3 runner with a lucky goal.
He called me cute, Rio thought, clenching his fists. He said my Level 3 was cute.
Zizou_5: Do not be intimidated, Rio. Stats are just numbers. Lamine is talented, yes. But talent can make you lazy. You have something he does not.
What?
Zizou_5: Desperation. You know what it is like to be the worst. He has always been the best. When things go wrong, the desperate man fights harder than the prince.
Rio_Lance: Thanks, Zizou. I think.
Total_Football_14: Enough about the boy wonder. You have a bigger problem. Tomorrow.
Total_Football_14: Atlético Madrid. Diego Simeone. The Red and White Wall.
Rio groaned, burying his face in his pillow. Don't remind me.
Atlético Madrid wasn't just a football team. They defended with eleven men. They hit hard. They played dirty. And their goalkeeper, Jan Oblak, was basically a brick wall with gloves.
Hand_Of_King: They will kick you, Rio. They will step on your toes. They will whisper things about your mother in your ear. It is beautiful!
It sounds terrifying, Rio thought.
The_Phenomenon_9: Listen, Rio. Against Atlético, space does not exist. They close the gaps. Your speed will be useless if you just try to run in a straight line. You will run straight into a defender's elbow.
Total_Football_14: You must be smarter. You must move before the ball is passed. Drag the defenders out of position. Create chaos.
Zizou_5: And rest. Anxiety drains the battery. Sleep, Rio. Dream of the ball.
Okay, Rio thought. Goodnight, Legends.
[Voice Lounge Disconnected.]
Rio put his phone down. The room was dark, but he couldn't close his eyes.
Lamine Yamal was in the chat.
Atlético Madrid was coming to Girona tomorrow.
His brother was starting his first training session.
His life had turned into a whirlwind in the span of a week.
He turned over, staring at the Man of the Match pin on his shelf. It gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
"I'm not a fraud," Rio whispered to the empty room. "I belong here."
He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly. In... Out... In... Out...
Finally, exhaustion won. Rio drifted off to sleep.
MATCH DAY
The atmosphere at the Estadi Montilivi was different today.
Against Betis, it was an away game. Hostile. Loud.
But today, playing at home against a giant like Atlético Madrid, the air was thick with nervous tension and defiant hope.
Rio sat in the locker room. His kit—LANCE 37—hung in his locker.
"You are an impact sub," Michel had said. "Atlético grinds you down for 70 minutes. Then, when they are tired, I unleash the Cheetah."
Rio was okay with that. Sitting on the bench meant he could analyze the game. It meant he didn't have to face Antoine Griezmann in the first minute.
"Rio!"
He looked up. Mateo was tying his boots next to him. Mateo looked pale.
"I'm starting," Mateo whispered, looking like he might throw up. "Blind has a knock. Michel just told me. I'm starting at center-back. Against Morata and Griezmann."
Rio's eyes widened. "Dude. That's huge!"
"That's terrifying!" Mateo hissed.
Rio grabbed Mateo's shoulder. "Hey. Look at me. Remember what you told me before the Betis game? 'Just pass me the ball if you get scared.' Well, today, just kick Griezmann if you get scared."
Mateo laughed, a nervous, high-pitched sound. "Don't say that. I don't want a red card."
"Listen up!" Michel strode into the room. He looked fierce. He was wearing his lucky suit.
"Atlético thinks they are coming here to bully us," Michel said, his voice low and dangerous. "They think Girona is a cute little story. They think we will fold."
He slammed his hand on the tactical board.
"We do not fold! We play football! If they kick us, we pass around them! If they park the bus, we blow up the bus! VAMOS GIRONA!"
"VAMOS!" The team roared.
They marched out to the tunnel.
Rio walked out to the bench, clutching his warm-up jacket. The stadium was packed. Red and white flags waved everywhere.
He sat down, wrapping a blanket around his legs.
The referee blew the whistle.
Atlético didn't want the ball. They sat deep, two banks of four, waiting. Every time a Girona player touched the ball, an Atlético player was there to leave a "message."
Yangel Herrera got tackled.
Savio got pushed off the pitch.
It was 0-0 at halftime
Second half. Minute 60. Still 0-0.
The game was deadlocked. Girona couldn't break the wall. Atlético was waiting for one mistake.
Michel turned to the bench. He looked at Rio.
"Rio," Michel said.
Rio's heart jumped into his throat. "Yes, Coach?"
"Not yet," Michel muttered, looking back at the game.
Rio sat back down, letting out a breath.
Minute 75.
Griezmann picked up the ball. He played a magical pass through the defense. Morata was through.
Gazzaniga came out. Morata chipped him.
The ball floated toward the net.
Mateo sprinted back. He threw himself at the ball, hooking it off the line with an acrobatic clearance.
"MATEO!" the crowd screamed.
Mateo crashed into the net, tangled in the mesh, but he pumped his fist. He had saved a certain goal.
The ball went out for a corner. The game paused.
Michel turned around again. This time, his eyes were locked on Rio.
"Okay," Michel said. "Now."
"Now?" Rio asked, jumping up.
"Atlético is tired," Michel said, a wicked glint in his eye. "They are pushing up trying to score. There is space behind Witsel. Rio... go destroy that space."
Rio ripped off his bib. The adrenaline hit him like a drug.
[System Active]
[Opponent: Atlético Madrid]
[Difficulty: Hard]
Rio ran to the fourth official. He was coming on for Savio.
As he stood on the sideline, he looked at the Atlético defense. They looked mean. Witsel, Hermoso, Gimenez.
The board went up. Number 37.