I'm a genius, Rio thought, a wide, delirious grin plastered on his face. I'm the best player in the world. Real Madrid is going to call me tomorrow. No, tonight!
Dinho_Magic_10: Look at that stride! Look at that confidence! The boy is surfing on a wave of joy!
Rio_Lance: I can do anything! Give me the ball again! I'll dribble the whole team!
Buzzz!!
A sharp, vibrating sensation echoed in his skull, cutting through the euphoria like a knife.
Hand_Of_King: Oi! Ego boy! Come back down to Earth before you crash and burn.
Rio blinked, his stride faltering slightly.
Hand_Of_King: Look at your timer. You are not a genius. You are a Cinderella. And midnight is coming very, very fast.
Rio glanced at the floating blue interface in the corner of his eye.
[Item: La Gambeta Feint]
[Time Remaining: 02:15]
Two minutes and fifteen seconds.
The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. In one hundred and thirty-five seconds, the magic would vanish. The glue-like ball control would disappear. The supernatural balance would evaporate. He would turn back into the clumsy, frantic winger he had been for the last three years.
Oh no, Rio thought, panic replacing his pride. I need to score. I need to seal the deal before the clock runs out. If I go back to being trash while Michel is watching, he'll think the nutmeg was just a lucky accident.
"Pass it!" Rio screamed, waving his arms at Lucas.
But the atmosphere on the pitch had shifted.
The First Team players weren't laughing anymore. They weren't jogging. The nutmeg on Arnau had insulted them. It had poked the bear.
"Enough games," Stuani, the veteran striker for the First Team, growled. He clapped his hands loudly.
"Wake up! We are letting children embarrass us! Press them! Kill the space!"
The change was instant and terrifying.
The First Team midfielders, who had been giving the U18s a few yards of space, suddenly clamped down.
They moved with a synchronized aggression that was suffocating.
Lucas received the ball in midfield and was immediately swarmed by two pros. He didn't even have time to look up.
A shoulder barge sent him stumbling, and the ball was stolen.
"Recovery!" the First Team captain shouted.
They countered instantly. The ball moved so fast it was a blur.
First Team goal. 4-1.
They didn't celebrate. They just picked up the ball and ran back to the center circle, eyes locked on the U18s with a predatory glare.
They were angry. And an angry professional footballer is a dangerous beast.
Total_Football_14: Observe, Rio. This is the difference in mentality. You hurt their pride, so now they are raising their intensity to 100%. This is the true test.
The game restarted. The U18s were rattled. Mateo was screaming orders from the back, trying to keep the defense organized, but the First Team was tearing them apart.
Rio stayed wide on the left, desperate for the ball.
[Time Remaining: 01:30]
"Give it to me!" Rio yelled.
Finally, a loose clearance from the defense landed near him.
Rio trapped it and turned.
Arnau was there instantly. And this time, he wasn't standing off. He was right in Rio's personal space, breathing heavily, his eyes burning.
"Try it again, kid," Arnau challenged, stepping on Rio's toes.
"Try to humiliate me again."
Rio felt the physical power of the defender.
Arnau was leaning on him, using his arms, his chest, his hips.
I have to go, Rio thought. Now!
He tried to activate the feint. He dropped his shoulder.
But Arnau didn't bite. The defender stayed low, watching the ball, not the body. When Rio tried to push the ball past him, Arnau simply body-checked him.
Rio flew sideways, landing hard on his shoulder. The breath was knocked out of him.
"Foul!" Mateo shouted from the back.
The referee shook his head.
"Play on. Shoulder to shoulder."
Rio scrambled up, gasping for air.
The magic item couldn't fix physics. If a stronger man hit you, you fell.
King_10: Get up! Don't look at the referee! Chase the ball!
Rio gritted his teeth and sprinted. He caught up to Arnau, who was slowing down to pass. Rio poked a foot in, managing to deflect the ball out for a throw-in.
He looked at the timer.
[Time Remaining: 00:45]
Less than a minute.
I haven't scored, Rio panicked. I got an assist, and a nutmeg, but strikers need goals. Michel needs to see me score.
The throw-in was taken quickly.
The First Team was playing rough now. Sliding tackles were flying in. Javi, the U18 striker, got flattened by a center-back and stayed down for a second before limping back up.
The ball popped out of a tackle and rolled into open space near the center circle.
Rio saw it. He saw the goal far in the distance.
One last run, he told himself.
He ignited his engines. He got to the ball first, tapping it forward. He was sprinting straight down the middle, a dangerous, direct run.
Two defenders were closing in.
[Time Remaining: 00:10]
System! Help me!
Hand_Of_King: The system can't help you now! Shoot!
Rio wound up his leg. He was twenty-five yards out. He had never scored from this distance in his life. But he felt the lingering magic of the item in his veins.
He struck the ball.
It wasn't a perfect shot. It had a little too much spin. But it was powerful. The ball rocketed toward the goal, dipping viciously.
Gazzaniga, the keeper, scrambled across his line. He leaped, stretching his long frame.
[Time Remaining: 00:00]
Ping!
The blue light of the item vanished from Rio's vision.
At that exact moment, the ball smashed against the crossbar with a sound like a gunshot.
It bounced down on the line and spun away.
"NO!" Rio screamed, dropping to his knees.
The rebound fell to a First Team defender, who calmly cleared it upfield.
The magic was gone. Rio felt his body suddenly feel heavy again. His legs felt like lead.
The supernatural balance was replaced by his usual awkwardness.
And the First Team was coming back.
They launched a counter-attack so swift it looked rehearsed.
Three passes. A cross. A volley.
GOAL. 5-1.
The pros didn't stop. They grabbed the ball out of the net. They wanted six. They wanted to crush the U18s into dust.
Arnau ran past Rio, smirking.
"Nice shot, kid. Almost."
Rio stood up, his legs trembling. He was back to being F-Rank Rio. If the ball came to him now, he would probably trip over it. He was exposed. Naked.
Please don't pass to me, he thought, terror rising in his throat. Please don't let Michel see me touch the ball now.
The First Team prepared to restart, looking like sharks smelling blood in the water.
TWEEEEET!
A whistle blew. Long and loud.
Everyone stopped.
Coach Michel was standing on the pitch, his hand raised.
"That's enough!"
The silence that descended was instant.
"Bring it in!" Michel ordered.
The players walked toward the center circle. The U18s were dragging their feet, exhausted and demoralized by the sudden thrashing. The First Team players walked tall, chests puffed out, having asserted their dominance.
Rio walked slowly, his heart pounding in his ears.
He tried to hide in the back of the group, behind Mateo.
I failed, Rio thought miserably. I didn't score. I hit the post. And then I got bullied for the last ten minutes. He saw me get knocked over. He saw me disappear.
Total_Football_14: Chin up, Rio. You showed flashes. That is what matters.
Hand_Of_King: You hit the bar against a La Liga team. Stop crying. You survived.
Michel stood in the center, flanked by Coach Martinez.
The First Team manager looked at the sweaty, panting teenagers. His expression was unreadable.
"You got a taste," Michel said quietly. His voice wasn't shouting, but everyone leaned in to hear.
"You got a taste of the level. For forty-five minutes, they played at 50%, and you survived. But the moment they turned it up to 80%? You collapsed."
The U18 players stared at their boots.
"Physicality," Michel said, pointing at Javi. "You got bullied."
"Tactics," he pointed at Lucas. "You got lost."
"Mentality," he looked at the whole group. "You got scared."
Rio held his breath, waiting for the criticism to hit him.
"However," Michel continued, rubbing his chin. "We are not looking for perfection today. We are looking for something different. We are looking for weapons that we don't currently have."
He pulled a small folded piece of paper from his pocket.
"The club is in a crisis," Michel said. "I need two players to join the First Team training tomorrow. You will travel with us to Seville for the match against Betis. You might sit on the bench. You might play five minutes. Or you might carry the water bottles."
He unfolded the paper.
"First name," Michel announced. "Mateo."
Rio let out a breath and slapped his friend on the back.
"Yes!"
Mateo looked stunned, then broke into a wide, relieved smile.
"Thank you, Coach! Thank you!"
"You're solid," Michel said simply. "You organize well. We need cover at center-back."
Then, Michel paused. The silence stretched out. It felt like an eternity.
Rio could hear a bird chirping on the roof of the clubhouse.
Michel's eyes scanned the group. He looked past Javi. He looked past Lucas. He looked past Alejandro.
His eyes locked onto Rio.
Rio wanted to look away, but he couldn't.
"The second player," Michel said slowly.
"Rio Lance."
A collective gasp went through the group. Rio's mouth fell open.
"Me?" he squeaked.
"You," Michel nodded. "You are raw. You are messy. Your passing is suspicious, and your positioning needs work."
Rio flinched at the honesty.
"But," Michel continued, a glint appearing in his eye. "You have speed that cannot be taught. And for ten minutes today... you showed me something I haven't seen in this team for a long time. You were brave. You took the ball, and you went forward."
Michel pointed at Arnau, the First Team defender.
"You made him uncomfortable. That is enough for me."
Rio felt his knees go weak. He picked me. He actually picked me!
"Don't celebrate yet," Michel warned, his voice hardening. "You are not a First Team player. You are a trialist. You have three days of training before the match. If you slack off, if you show me that today was a fluke... I will send you back to the U18s so fast your head will spin. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Coach!" Rio shouted, his voice cracking slightly.
"Good. Mateo, Rio. Go to the kit man. Get your training gear. The rest of you... keep working."
Michel turned and walked away, followed by the First Team.
As the pros walked past, Arnau slowed down. He looked at Rio. He didn't smile, but he gave a small, grudging nod.
Rio stood there, frozen.
Suddenly, Mateo grabbed him in a bear hug, lifting him off the ground.
"We did it! We're going to Seville! We're going to La Liga!"
Rio laughed, the sound bubbling up from his chest.
"I can't believe it. I'm not a baker!"
Hand_Of_King: Congratulations, kid. You bought yourself a ticket to the show.
Total_Football_14: Now the hard part begins. The training simulation is unlocked.
King_10: Prepare yourself. We have three days to teach you how to kick a ball properly. It will be hell.
Rio looked at the blue sky above Girona. It was the most beautiful sky he had ever seen.
"Let's go to work," Rio whispered.