Stadio Renato Dall'Ara. Bologna Locker Room.Halftime.Score: 0 - 0.
The sound of heavy breathing filled the room, sounding like steam engines pushed past their limit. The Bologna players slumped on their benches, wet towels draped over their heads, chests heaving rapidly. Forty-five minutes against Liverpool felt like forty-five rounds in a boxing ring against a heavyweight champion.
Rio Valdes sat in the corner, staring at the floor. His leg didn't hurt—thanks to the Lidocaine injection—but his mind was racing. He had just failed. His strongest weapon, The Mirage Strike, had been broken with terrifying ease by Virgil van Dijk.
The locker room door swung open. Adrian Vance entered in his wheelchair, his face pale. He held his tablet with trembling hands.
"He read your muscle tension," Adrian said without preamble. His voice cut through the silence of the room like a knife.
Rio looked up, his eyes burning with frustration. "You were the one who told me to engage my core! You said it was to protect my hip!"
"It does protect your hip," Adrian argued, spinning his tablet around to show the replay of Van Dijk's tackle. "But it creates a latency of zero-point-two seconds. Van Dijk saw your abdominal muscles tighten before your leg even moved. To a defender of his caliber, that's like sending an invitation letter before you shoot."
Rio slammed his water bottle onto the floor. "So what's the solution? If I don't tighten my core, Van Dijk can't read it, but my hip will shatter. If I do tighten it, my hip survives, but Van Dijk breaks the attack. It's a dead end, Adrian."
Adrian went silent. He stared at his screen, where a red biomechanical simulation was flashing. He was an analyst, a man who believed in data and safety. But he also knew who Rio Valdes was.
"There is one way," Adrian whispered, his voice barely audible over Coach Italiano's shouting. "You have to discard the modification. Go back to the original technique. Don't tighten your core. Don't give a signal. Let your hip joint take one hundred percent of the recoil."
"That is suicide," interrupted Dr. Ricci, who was checking another player's bandages. He turned around, his eyes wide with alarm. "If he does that without core preparation, his acetabulum bone could crack completely."
Adrian looked Rio straight in the eye. "Correct. The risk increases to 80%. But it is the only way to bypass Van Dijk. He is waiting for your muscle signal. If you don't give him a signal... he will react too late."
Rio fell silent. He looked at the System Notification floating in the air. His Lifespan remained at 531 Days, but the Bonus Objective to humiliate a "World Class" defender was still incomplete.
Rio stood up. He felt his numb leg. He couldn't feel the pain now, but he knew it was waiting for him at the end of the night, like a patient debt collector.
"I'll do it," Rio said coldly.
"Rio, don't be stupid!" Dr. Ricci shouted.
"Doc, you said I have one bullet, right?" Rio smiled faintly, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Then I have to make sure that bullet goes through the heart, not the bulletproof vest."
Minute 65.The Red Wave.
The second half began with even crazier intensity. Liverpool, frustrated by their lack of goals, pushed their defensive line to the extreme.
Trent Alexander-Arnold was now playing almost as a central midfielder, delivering lethal crosses. Mohamed Salah danced on the right wing, forcing Bologna's left-back into overtime work.
BOOM!
Dominik Szoboszlai's shot smashed against the crossbar. The Dall'Ara Stadium held its breath. Bologna was under siege. They were like a boxer cornered on the ropes, covering their face and waiting for the bell.
Rio was isolated up front. He was tightly marked by Ibrahima Konaté, Liverpool's other giant defender. Every time Rio touched the ball, Konaté slammed into him with pure physics, forcing him off balance.
"Where's your magic, kid?" Konaté taunted after winning an aerial duel. "You look tired."
Rio didn't answer. He glanced at the stadium clock. Minute 65. The Lidocaine effect would last until the end of the match, but his body was starting to feel heavy. The System flashed a warning that his Stamina had dropped below 30%.
Minute 82.The Counter-Attack.
The score was still 0-0. A draw was actually a good result for Bologna. But Rio didn't want a draw.
Liverpool won a corner kick. Trent Alexander-Arnold whipped the ball into the box. Skorupski, the Bologna keeper, leaped high and punched the ball far upfield.
The ball landed in the center circle. Rio Valdes was there. And Virgil van Dijk was there.
This was the moment everyone had been waiting for. One on one. Van Dijk was the last man. If Rio passed him, he would be face-to-face with Alisson.
Rio controlled the ball with his chest, then turned. Van Dijk didn't tackle immediately. He retreated slowly, keeping a distance of two meters, his eyes locked on Rio's hips. He was waiting for the "Tell." He was waiting for Rio's core muscles to tense up.
The stadium went dead silent. 38,000 people stood up.
Rio dribbled slowly toward the penalty box. Now, Rio thought.
Adrian was right. Van Dijk was a computer reading physical data. To fool a computer, you had to feed it empty data.
Rio relaxed his entire body. He didn't tighten his stomach. He let his shoulders drop. He looked as if he was about to pass the ball sideways or stop running. Biomechanically, his body position was not ready to shoot. There was no wind-up. No tension.
Van Dijk saw that. His world-class defender instincts screamed: He isn't shooting now. He's going to dribble.
Van Dijk lowered his center of gravity, preparing to anticipate the dribble.
It was a fatal mistake.
[Skill Active: The Mirage Strike (Original Version)]
Without warning, without a "Tell," Rio's right hip rotated with lightning speed. His hip joint screamed—a microscopic crack appeared deep within the bone—but the anesthetic blocked the pain from reaching his brain.
His right leg snapped like a whip.
SNAP.
The sound was different this time. Sharper. More terrifying. The ball exploded from Rio's foot at 108 km/h.
Van Dijk flinched. His eyes widened. He was 0.5 seconds too late. He tried to block, but his leg only kicked the air. The ball passed right through his legs—a humiliating nutmeg—before he could even close the gap.
Alisson Becker, the Liverpool keeper, didn't even move. He only heard the thud, and then saw his net shaking violently.
The ball was buried deep in the bottom corner.
GOAL.Bologna 1 - 0 Liverpool.
Minute 83.The Price to Pay.
The stadium exploded into deafening euphoria. The Bologna players sprinted to chase Rio.
But Rio didn't run. As soon as the ball left his foot, Rio collapsed to the ground. Not out of celebration. His leg had given up. Even though the Lidocaine blocked the pain, the structure of his leg had lost stability. He felt a sickening shift inside his joint, as if the gears of a machine had slipped off their axis.
His teammates jumped on top of him, hugging him, screaming in his ears. "You genius! You did it!" Orsolini yelled.
Rio could only smile weakly, cold sweat drenching his face. He tried to stand, but his right leg refused to support his weight. He had to be supported by Sam Beukema just to get back on his feet.
He looked back. Virgil van Dijk was still standing in the same spot, staring at the goal with a blank expression. The giant had fallen. He had been defeated not by physics, but by the courage to destroy oneself.
A System Notification flashed across his vision. The Bonus Objective to humiliate a "World Class" Defender was complete, rewarding him with one Skill Upgrade Token. However, below the reward, a crimson warning pulsed: Right Hip Integrity Critical (45%). Immediate Rest Required.
Minute 90+5.The Final Whistle.
The rest of the match was a blur for Rio. He was forced off the pitch and replaced by an extra defender. He sat on the bench, his leg wrapped in thick ice. The effect of the anesthetic was beginning to fade, and the real pain was starting to creep up, slow but sure, like a deadly rising tide.
When the referee blew the final whistle, Bologna officially won 1-0. They topped Group F. They had beaten Real Madrid and Liverpool back-to-back.
Jurgen Klopp walked toward the Bologna bench. He shook hands with Italiano, then walked straight to Rio, who was sitting down. The German manager looked at Rio, then took off his iconic cap.
"I was wrong," Klopp said, his voice sincere. "You are not a nail. And you are not water. You are dynamite."
Klopp patted Rio's shoulder and walked away.
Dr. Ricci immediately knelt in front of Rio, unwrapping the ice. The old doctor's face went pale as he saw the swelling that was starting to form.
"Don't move," Ricci said, panic in his voice. "We have to take you to the hospital now. Before your adrenaline runs out and you pass out from pain shock."
Rio leaned back in the stadium seat, looking up at the beautiful Bologna night sky. He had used his last bullet. He had won. But as the medical stretcher approached, Rio knew one thing: The European War had just begun, and he had just sacrificed his main weapon to win a single battle.