[SYSTEM ALERT][BERSERKER MODE: ACTIVATED][Cost: 1 Day Lifespan per Minute][Effect: Pain Suppression (100%), Strength (+50%), Aggression (+100%)][Warning: Heart Failure risk increases by 5% every minute.]
The world didn't turn black. It turned crimson.
The agony in Rio's chest—the bruised sternum from the French match, the phantom ache of his bionic heart—vanished instantly. The leaden fatigue in his legs evaporated. In their place was a surging, bubbling power that felt like liquid magma pumping through his veins.
Rio cracked his neck. Crack.
He looked at the substitute player, a trembling 17-year-old winger named Dani, who had run onto the field to replace the unconscious Bambang.
"Dani," Rio's voice sounded distorted, vibrating deep in his chest.
"Y-Yes, Captain?"
"Stay in the back. Do not cross the halfway line. If you get in my way, I will kill you myself."
Dani gulped, seeing the unnatural void in Rio's eyes, and nodded frantically. He retreated to the defensive line without question.
The referee blew the whistle to restart the game. Minute 35.Score: 0-0.Match State: 11 Indonesians (One possessed by a demon) vs 10 Argentines.
The ball rolled to Rio in the center circle.
Normally, under Protocol: Ghost, Rio would pass immediately. Martinez, "The Butcher", expected this. He jogged forward, grinning, ready to bully the next receiver.
But Rio didn't pass. He put his foot on the ball and stopped dead.
He looked directly at Martinez. He curled his finger. Come here.
Martinez blinked. The disrespect made his blood boil. "You want to die, little man?"
Martinez charged. He didn't care about the ball. He lowered his shoulder, aiming to plow through Rio like a runaway truck. It was the same move that had intimidated everyone else.
Rio didn't move. He waited. The grid lines in his vision turned a violent, pulsing red.
[COLLISION PREDICTED: 0.5 SECONDS][BERSERKER RESPONSE: DOMINATE]
Just as Martinez made contact, Rio didn't absorb the hit. He countered it. Exploding with supernatural strength, Rio thrust his own shoulder forward, timing it perfectly to meet Martinez's momentum.
CRUNCH.
The sound of flesh hitting flesh was sickening, echoing through the silent stadium.
But Rio didn't budge. Not an inch. It was Martinez who flew back. The Argentine captain, a man known for his brute strength, was launched two meters through the air, landing hard on his back, gasping for air.
The stadium gasped. The "Butcher" had just been butchered.
Rio trapped the ball calmly. He didn't even look at the fallen captain. He started dribbling forward.
"Get him!" Martinez screamed from the ground, humiliated, clutching his chest. "Break his legs!"
Two Argentine midfielders rushed at Rio. They slid in from both sides—a scissor tackle meant to snap ankles. A career-ending move.
[SKILL: THE SURGEON'S TOUCH (OVERDRIVE)]
Rio didn't jump. He rolled the ball backward with his sole, letting the two tacklers collide with each other. Clack! Their shin guards smashed together violently.
While they were entangled in a heap of pain, Rio flicked the ball over their heads. A Rainbow Flick. He ran past them, collecting the ball on the other side.
He was dancing through a minefield. Every step was calculated arrogance.
[Lifespan Cost: -3 Days]
Three minutes had passed. Rio was tearing through the midfield alone.
He reached the defensive line. Three Argentine defenders stood there, terrified. They had seen their captain fly. They had seen their midfielders humiliated.
"Foul him!" The Argentine coach screamed from the sideline, panic in his voice. "Just pull him down!"
One defender grabbed Rio's jersey with both hands. Rio didn't stop. He kept running, dragging the defender with him like a ragdoll. The jersey fabric screamed under the tension, then ripped.
[STRENGTH CHECK: PASSED]
He shook the defender off. Now, it was just Rio and the goalkeeper.
But Rio didn't shoot. He stopped the ball on the penalty spot.
The goalkeeper rushed out, diving at Rio's feet. Rio rolled the ball slightly to the left. The keeper grabbed empty air and slid past.
Rio was standing in front of an open goal. Any sane player would tap it in. But Rio Valdes wasn't sane right now. He was a Berserker.
He waited. He waited until Martinez, who had sprinted all the way back in a desperate rage, slid into the box in a last-ditch tackle to block the shot.
Rio watched Martinez sliding across the grass, cleats exposed, aiming for the ball. Rio lifted his leg. He faked a shot.
Martinez bit the fake. His momentum was too high to stop. He slid past Rio, helpless, sliding straight into the goal net like a bag of trash.
Only then did Rio gently tap the ball across the line.
GOAL.
INDONESIA 1 - 0 ARGENTINA
Minute 40.
The ball rolled in, coming to a stop next to Martinez's face as he tangled in the net.
Rio walked into the goal. He stood over the Argentine captain, casting a long shadow.
The stadium was dead silent. Even the Indonesian fans were too stunned to cheer. It wasn't a goal; it was an execution.
Rio leaned down, his eyes burning with a cold, red light.
"You call yourself a Butcher?" Rio whispered, his voice dripping with venom. "You're just a pig. And this is my slaughterhouse."
Rio turned around and walked away.
[SYSTEM ALERT][BERSERKER MODE: DEACTIVATING][Lifespan Consumed: 5 Days][Adrenaline Crash: IMMINENT]
The red tint faded from his vision. The strength left his body instantly. The pain returned—all at once. His chest felt like it was caved in. His legs felt like lead. His head felt like it was splitting open.
Rio stumbled. His knees buckled. He fell to the grass, gasping for air, clutching his chest as his heart skipped a beat.
"Captain!" Ole and the other players rushed to him, forming a circle.
"Don't touch me," Rio wheezed, forcing himself to stand back up on trembling legs. The world was spinning. "I'm... fine."
He looked at the scoreboard. 1-0. He looked at the Argentine team. They were broken. Not physically, like Bambang, but mentally. They looked at Rio not as an opponent, but as a monster. The fear in their eyes was absolute.
"We have... 50 minutes left including halftime," Rio muttered to Ole, wiping a fresh stream of blood from his nose. "Park the bus. Protocol Mud Pit. They won't attack us anymore. They are too scared to come near me."
Ole nodded, his face pale. "You scared me, Rio."
Rio managed a weak, painful smile. "Good. That means it worked."