The silence in the stadium wasn't peaceful. It was heavy, suffocating, like the air inside a tomb.
Ten minutes ago, the scoreboard had read 0-0. Now, it displayed a brutal 3-0.
Three goals in ten minutes. It hadn't been a match. It was an execution.
Eleven players—the supposed "Golden Generation" of the U-20 National Team—were scattered across the grass. Some sat with heads between their knees; others lay flat on their backs, gasping for air as if they had just drowned. They hadn't just lost a training match. They had been dismantled. Systematically taken apart by a cripple, a nerd, and a ghost.
Bambang—the team captain who arrogantly bore the name of a legend but played like a cheap knock-off—remained on his knees near the penalty box. His expensive hairstyle was ruined, matted with dirt and sweat. But his ego was in far worse shape. He stared at the grass, replaying the last two goals in his mind—Rio's surgical finishes that made him look like a statue.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The rhythmic sound of studs on concrete broke the silence.
Rio Valdes walked toward the center circle. He didn't gloat. He didn't celebrate. He moved with the terrifying calmness of a predator checking a trap.
He stopped right in front of the kneeling captain. The shadow he cast swallowed Bambang whole.
Rio extended an open hand. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to.
Bambang looked up. His face was red, veins bulging in his neck. "It... it was a fluke," he stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and humiliation. "The ground was slippery! And that guy—" he pointed a shaking finger at Adrian, "—he cheated! He moved weird! No one dribbles like that!"
"It's called body feints, you imbecile," Adrian Vance called out from behind Rio. The bespectacled midfielder was wiping his glasses with his jersey, looking utterly bored. "Just because your CPU is too slow to process the data, doesn't mean it's a glitch."
"Shut up!" Bambang surged to his feet, fists clenched, ready to swing.
"Sit down."
The command didn't come from a shout. It was spoken at a normal volume, but it carried an icy, metallic weight that froze Bambang mid-motion.
Rio took a step closer. His eyes, usually dark, seemed to catch the reflection of the stadium floodlights, glowing with an unnatural intensity.
[SYSTEM STATUS: DOMINANCE CHECK][Target: Bambang][Willpower: CRITICAL LOW][Fear Level: HIGH][Result: SUBMISSION]
"We made a bet," Rio said softly. "The armband. Now."
Bambang grit his teeth. He looked around for support. He looked at his vice-captain, his winger, his sycophants. But they all looked away. They had seen what Rio did to the defensive line. They had seen Ole Romeny vanish into thin air. They were terrified.
The King had no army left.
With a trembling hand, Bambang reached for his left arm. The sound of the velcro ripping seemed incredibly loud in the silent stadium. He unstrapped the yellow captain's armband. It felt heavy, like lead.
He dropped it into Rio's hand.
"Good," Rio said. He didn't put it on immediately. He held it up, showing it to the rest of the squad like a trophy of war.
"Coach Guntur," Rio called out, turning to the sidelines.
Guntur walked onto the pitch. The old coach looked at the defeated starters, then at the new trio standing tall in the center. For the first time in months, the despair in Guntur's eyes was replaced by something else. Hope.
"Rio is the new Captain," Guntur announced, his voice firm, brooking no argument. "Effective immediately. Anyone who has a problem with that can pack their bags and leave the training center tonight."
No one moved. No one spoke. The fear of being cut from the World Cup squad outweighed their loyalty to Bambang.
Rio nodded. He turned back to the team.
"Listen to me very carefully," Rio began, strapping the armband onto his left arm. It fit perfectly.
"For the last two months, you have been playing celebrity. You care more about your Instagram followers than your first touch. You think because you dominated the local league, you are ready for the world."
Rio gestured to Ole Romeny, who was standing silently like a statue.
"This is Ole. He was rejected by European academies. And today, he made your defensive line look like traffic cones."
Rio pointed at Adrian.
"This is Adrian. He fails every physical test he takes. And today, he broke your ankles without even sprinting."
Rio tapped his own chest.
"And I am a dead man walking. My heart runs on a battery. One bad tackle, and I die. Literally."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"We are the 'Rejects'. And we just destroyed you 3-0 in ten minutes."
Rio walked along the line of players, looking each of them in the eye.
"The World Cup is in two months. We are in Group A. Do you know who is in Group A?"
"France," a timid voice answered from the back.
"France," Rio repeated. "Argentina. Japan. Monsters. They don't care about your TikTok dances. They will eat you alive. If you play like you did today, we won't just lose. We will be humiliated. The world will laugh at us."
Rio stopped. He activated his System interface, checking the loyalty stats of the team.
[TEAM MORALE: SHATTERED][FEAR LEVEL: HIGH][OBEDIENCE: RISING]
Perfect. Break them down, then build them back up.
"From this moment on, democracy is dead," Rio declared. "This is a dictatorship. You eat what I tell you to eat. You sleep when I tell you to sleep. You run until I tell you to stop."
He pointed at Bambang, who was still staring at the ground, stripped of his pride.
"Bambang. You are stripped of your number 10 jersey. You will wear number 99. You start from the bottom. If you want your spot back, you prove it to me, not the coach."
Bambang's head snapped up, shock written all over his face. "You can't do that! The Number 10 is—"
"I just did," Rio cut him off coldly. "Don't like it? The gate is open."
Bambang clenched his jaw, tears of frustration welling in his eyes. But he didn't leave. He nodded, once, stiffly.
"Adrian," Rio said.
"Yo," Adrian pushed his glasses up.
"You are in charge of tactical drills. If anyone misses a rotation by a second, make them run laps until they vomit."
"With pleasure," Adrian grinned, a sadistic glint appearing in his eyes.
"Ole," Rio continued.
The pale striker just looked at him.
"Teach the defenders what fear looks like. Make sure they never feel safe."
Ole gave a barely perceptible nod.
Rio took a deep breath. His heart monitor buzzed softly against his skin.
[QUEST COMPLETE: THE USURPER][Objective: Seize control of the National Team.][Reward: +30 Days Lifespan][Reward: Title Unlocked - "The Tyrant"][Effect: Increases Ally Obedience by 20%. Increases Training Efficiency by 15%]
Rio dismissed the notification with a thought. 30 days. It was a good haul, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
"Training resumes in one hour," Rio barked. "Phones are confiscated. Anyone late runs a marathon."
He turned and walked away, Adrian and Ole flanking him like his personal guards.
As they walked off the pitch, Adrian leaned in, whispering so only Rio could hear.
"You're crazy, you know that? You just turned the whole national team into your personal army."
Rio stared straight ahead at the scoreboard, which still read 3-0.
"We're going to war, Adrian," Rio said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And in war, you don't need friends. You need soldiers."