Santa Clara, Gold Rush Medical Center, Exam Room 1.
The air smelled like sharp disinfectant and nervous sweat. The blinds were drawn tight, leaving the room illuminated only by the cold, blue glow of precision medical instruments. The rhythmic beep-beep of a heart monitor was the only sound breaking the heavy silence.
The atmosphere wasn't just tense. It was explosive.
"Take it off."
Dr. Sophie Vance stood by the examination table, a cold metal probe in her hand. Her eyes, hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses, were strict and professional. But her white coat was slightly disheveled from running onto the field earlier, revealing a hint of her collarbone.
Levi sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands. That trademark rogue grin was plastered on his face.
"Dr. Vance, I know I'm a modern, open-minded guy, but isn't this moving a little fast? Shouldn't we get coffee first? Maybe discuss our dreams?"
"Shut up."
Sophie cut him off cold. She wasn't buying his charm.
"Shirt off. Pants... down to the knees. I need to check your quadriceps and knee ligaments immediately."
In Sophie's mind, Levi was currently a massive suspect. She was a woman of science. Physics stated that if you knock a 265lb man like Nick Boss backward by three meters, your own body has to absorb at least two tons of instantaneous impact force.
A normal human sternum would be dust.
Unless... he was wearing high-tech concealed armor, or he had carbon fiber plates surgically implanted under his skin.
"Fine. You're the doctor."
Levi shrugged. He grabbed the hem of his jersey and pulled it off in one smooth motion.
Whoosh.
The training gear hit the floor.
Sophie instinctively leaned in, looking for the tell-tale scars of surgery or the red marks of hidden padding.
But the next second, her pupils dilated.
No padding.
No scars.
What was in front of her was a physique that looked like it had been carved out of marble by a Greek god. Unlike Nick Boss's bulky, monstrous mass, Levi's muscles were compact, streamlined, and terrifyingly dense. They looked like twisted steel cables wrapped under honey-colored skin. Every vein popped with explosive tension.
The most insane part?
After a car-crash level collision with Boss, there wasn't a single bruise.
Nothing.
Just a tiny red spot on his chest, like a mosquito bite.
"That... that's impossible."
Sophie mumbled to herself. Her cool, professional fingers couldn't help but reach out to touch his pectoral muscle.
It was hot. And it was hard.
Scary hard.
It didn't feel like touching flesh. It felt like touching a slab of granite wrapped in warm velvet.
"How's the merchandise, Doc?" Levi felt her cold fingers on his chest and smirked. "If you're trying to cop a feel, I don't mind. We are teammates now, after all."
Sophie yanked her hand back as if she'd touched a live wire. A blush shot across her cheeks, but she forced herself to reboot into Doctor Mode.
"Stop talking. Get in the CT scanner. I need bone imaging."
She gritted her teeth. Eyes can be tricked. But X-rays don't lie. I'm going to find out what you're made of, Levi.
Ten minutes later.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
"WARNING! DATA OVERFLOW! WARNING!"
The multi-million dollar GE bone density scanner suddenly started screaming. Red lights flashed on the console like a disco from hell.
Sophie sat at the computer terminal, staring at the 3D rendering on the screen. She froze. She was a statue. The mouse dropped from her hand—clatter.
"Broken? Is the machine broken?"
She frantically tried to reboot the software. This was a military-grade prototype! It shouldn't glitch!
But the image on the screen remained. Levi's skeleton wasn't the normal ghostly gray-white. It was glowing a bright, solid white.
That meant the X-rays could barely pass through.
In the data column, a line of red text burned into her retinas:
[Bone Mineral Density (T-Score): +8.5 SD]
Sophie stopped breathing.
For a normal adult male, a score of 0 to -1 is healthy.
Anything over +2.5 is usually a disease—marble bone disease—where bones become brittle.
But +8.5?
That wasn't bone. That was the density of composite tank armor. If you hit this with a baseball bat, the bat wouldn't break the bone—the shockwave would shatter the bat and the batter's wrists.
"Is... is he even carbon-based?"
Sophie took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She felt like her PhD was a lie. She looked through the glass at Levi, who was crawling out of the machine and stretching lazily.
Her look changed.
She wasn't looking at a suspect anymore.
She was looking at an alien wearing a human suit.
"Doc, the machine was screaming pretty loud. Do I have terminal cancer or something?" Levi asked, pulling his shirt back on.
The System had told him Indestructible Body changed his molecular structure, but he didn't expect it to nearly fry the hospital equipment.
Sophie swallowed hard. Her voice was dry.
"Your bones... they're harder than steel. Your muscle fiber density is five times that of a normal human. Levi, tell me the truth. Were you raised in a secret government lab?"
"Secret lab?"
Levi walked up to the desk. He leaned in close, hands bracing on the table, invading her personal space until he could see her long eyelashes trembling.
"If I told you it's because I drink hot water and eat goji berries every morning... would you believe me?"
Sophie stared at him. "..."
believe you my ass.
Just as she was about to interrogate him further, the door slammed open.
"RESULTS! GIVE THEM TO ME!"
Head Coach Shannon stormed in like a hurricane, with the shell-shocked Offensive Coordinator trailing behind him.
Shannon looked like a degenerate gambler waiting for the lottery numbers to drop.
Sophie took a deep breath. She printed the report and handed it over, her tone complex.
"Coach, the good news is: He has no steel implants. No performance-enhancing drugs. He is clean."
Shannon pumped his fist. "YES!"
"The bad news is..." Sophie paused, pointing at the red +8.5. "Medically speaking, he doesn't classify as a 'normal human.' If he collides with a regular player at full speed, it won't be a tackle. It will be a traffic accident. I have a responsibility to warn you: putting him on the field might cause irreversible... physical trauma to others."
"Physical trauma?"
Shannon grabbed the report. He stared at the off-the-charts numbers.
His expression shifted from shock... to joy... to a twisted, villainous cackle.
"HAHAHAHA! Good! I want trauma!"
Shannon slammed his hand on the desk, laughing so hard tears formed in his eyes.
This is what he needed.
The Gold Rush was soft. Their morale was dead.
He didn't need a nice, tactical player.
He needed a monster. A thug. A weapon of mass destruction that would make the opposition wet their pants just by standing there.
"Sophie, this report is Top Secret. Classified! Anyone leaks this, and I'll personally ship them to Guantanamo Bay!"
Shannon crumpled the report into his pocket and turned to stare at Levi. He looked at the kid like he was a gold mine that had just been discovered.
"Levi."
Shannon's voice trembled with adrenaline.
"You said earlier... if I gave you a shot, you could handle the Horns?"
Levi zipped up his jacket slowly. His eyes sharpened into blades.
"I won't just handle them, Coach. Put the ball in my hands, and I'll turn their stadium into a graveyard."
"GOOD!"
Shannon roared. "Sunday. You start at Fullback. Forget the complex route trees. I'm giving you one play. Just one tactic!"
Shannon pointed a shaking finger toward the invisible endzone.
"Get the ball. See the guy wearing the different color jersey? Smash him. Run over him. Do not stop until you hit the painted grass at the end of the field!"
"Do you understand?!"
Levi stood tall. He gave a lazy, two-finger salute, his lips curling into a bloodthirsty smile.
"Mission Accepted."
Three Days Later. Sunday.
Santa Clara, The Golden Field Stadium.
The massive arena, capable of holding 68,500 people, was packed to the rafters. It was a sea of red jerseys, but the atmosphere was toxic.
Sighs. Boos. Anger.
The giant Jumbotron flashed the starting lineup.
When the announcer got to the Running Back position—
"Starting in place of C-Mac... Number 33... LEVIIII!"
"BOOOOOOO—!!!"
A tsunami of boos washed over the field.
Popcorn buckets and empty cups rained down from the stands.
"What is this joke? That Asian waterboy?"
"The front office has lost their minds! Are they tanking for a draft pick?"
"Refund! I want a refund! This is an insult to the sport!"
In the commentary booth, the famous loudmouth analyst, Charles Barkley, was shaking his head on national TV.
"Looks like the Gold Rush has officially given up on the season, folks. Starting a backup fullback whose main job was holding the Gatorade cooler? Against the LA Horns' defense? Against Aaron 'The Titan' Don? God save the kid. I hope he has good life insurance."
Visitor's Sideline.
The LA Horns' defense was hyping themselves up.
Their captain, Aaron "The Titan" Don, chewed his gum aggressively. He looked at Levi's photo on the big screen and laughed.
"Hey, boys!"
The Titan shouted to his squad. "Job is simple today. That Number 33... if he touches the ball, kill him. Let him know the league isn't a Boy Scout camp!"
"Copy that! Break him in half!"
The defensive line howled like wolves.
Player's Tunnel.
The noise outside was deafening.
Levi put on his helmet. Click. The facemask locked into place. His vision narrowed, but the world became crystal clear.
Dr. Sophie stood at the tunnel exit, holding a water bottle. Her eyes were filled with worry.
"Hey. Don't be a hero. If it hurts, stay down. There's no shame in living."
Levi didn't take the water.
He reached out with a gloved fist and gently bumped Sophie's shoulder.
"Watch closely, Doc."
His voice was muffled by the helmet, but it was steady as a rock.
"After today, every single person in this stadium is going to learn how to spell my name."
He turned and sprinted out into the red sea of noise.
Like a sword being drawn from its sheath, he ran straight into the hostility, ready to draw blood.