Estádio da Luz, Lisbon.Tuesday Night. Round of 16, First Leg.Temperature: 14°C. Humidity: 82%.
Hell doesn't always come in the form of fire. Sometimes, hell is the sound of beating wings.
Before the kick-off whistle blew, the stadium lights dimmed to a dusky twilight. A living bald eagle—Benfica's mascot, Vitória—was released from the stadium roof. The bird of prey glided in a perfect, menacing circle, talons outstretched, before landing precisely on the club crest in the center of the pitch.
Sixty-five thousand spectators roared in unison, a sound so dense it felt physical. "SLB! SLB! SLB! GLORIOSO SLB!"
Rio Valdes stood in the center circle, feeling the acoustic vibrations rattle his chest cavity. This stadium was designed like a cathedral of sound. The acoustics were intimidating, engineered to make the visiting team feel small, isolated, and ready to be devoured.
He glanced at the sideline. Gonçalo Ramos was doing his final stretches. His face remained flat, blank, as if he were preparing for a calculus exam rather than a Champions League knockout match.
A translucent notification materialized in Rio's peripheral vision. The mission [Break the Algorithm] had begun. The target was specific and brutal: Score a goal with zero probability (0.00 xG). The time limit was ninety minutes.
In the corner of his vision, Rio's remaining lifespan blinked slowly: 224 Days.
The referee blew the whistle.
Minute 12.The Stranglehold.
Adrian Vance was right. This wasn't football. It was a living, breathing algorithm.
For the first twelve minutes, Rio didn't even touch the ball. Not because he was playing poorly, but because Bologna couldn't cross the halfway line.
Every time a Bologna defender tried to build an attack, three Benfica players immediately closed down the passing lanes in a perfect, suffocating triangular formation. Florentino Luís, Benfica's defensive midfielder, acted like a lawnmower, consuming every loose ball before it could reach the midfield.
"Circulate!" Coach Italiano screamed from the sideline, his voice cracking with panic. "Don't stand still!"
Ferguson tried to play a long ball toward Rio. The ball soared through the air. Rio jumped, ready to control it with his chest.
But before the ball touched his jersey, a red shadow smashed into him from behind. It was António Silva, Benfica's young defender. The collision was clean, shoulder to shoulder, but the timing was so precise that Rio lost his balance instantly.
The ball fell to Florentino's feet. Benfica's counter-attack transition began. It took only half a second.
Florentino to João Mário. João Mário to Aursnes. Aursnes saw the gap.
"Get back!" Rio shouted, trying to chase.
But the ball had already been sent into the penalty box. A low cutback that skimmed the ground, slicing through Bologna's defense like a scalpel through butter.
Gonçalo Ramos was there. He didn't sprint. He simply took two steps to the right, slipping into the blindspot of the Bologna defender. The ball arrived exactly at his feet.
The distance was a mere six meters, and the goalkeeper's view was completely blocked by his own defender. The Expected Goals rating for such a chance skyrocketed to nearly ninety percent.
Ramos didn't kick hard. He simply deflected the ball with the inside of his foot. Efficient. Calm. Lethal.
GOAL.Benfica 1 - 0 Bologna.(Agg: 1-0)
The stadium exploded. Red flares were lit in the north stand, painting the air with thick crimson smoke.
Ramos didn't run wild. He simply raised one hand, hugged his teammates briefly, and walked back to the center line. His face said: This is a calculated result. Deviation: None.
Rio stared at the scoreboard. They had only played thirteen minutes, and they already looked like children playing against a supercomputer.
Minute 35.System Error.
Bologna tried to fight back, but every move they made was read. Rio felt like he was playing chess against an engine. Every time he tried to dribble to the left, two Benfica players were already there. Every time he tried The Ghost step-over, the Benfica defenders weren't fooled. They didn't watch his feet; they watched his hips.
"They studied me," Rio realized with horror. "They know all my tricks."
On the pitch, Rio dropped deep, almost parallel with the defensive midfielders, just to get a touch on the ball.
"Don't drop deep," a voice said beside him. It was Ramos.
Rio turned. The Benfica striker was looking at him with cold curiosity. "You're ruining your own team's structure," Ramos continued, his tone devoid of malice, purely analytical. "Your heatmap is becoming inefficient. Stay up top so we can isolate you properly."
Rio stared at the Portuguese striker. The audacity was breathtaking. Ramos wasn't trash-talking; he was offering optimizing advice because he was bored.
"I am not structure," Rio spat back. "I am the anomaly, remember?"
Ramos blinked. "Anomalies are just data points we haven't corrected yet."
Rio received the ball from Skorupski. He turned. The distance to Benfica's goal was still sixty meters. Three Benfica players immediately closed him down.
This is useless, Rio thought. If I play by their rules, I die. I have to break the rules.
Minute 44.Zero Probability.
The first half was almost over. The fourth official held up the board for stoppage time: one minute.
A loose ball bounced toward the right side of the pitch, near the touchline. The distance was about thirty-five meters from the goal. The angle was incredibly tight—almost zero degrees relative to the goal line. Logically, no sane player would shoot from there. The only option was a cross.
Rio chased the ball. Nicolás Otamendi, the veteran Argentine defender, marked him. Otamendi didn't clear the ball; he simply shadowed Rio, forcing him into a dead angle.
"You're trapped," Otamendi grunted. "Pass it back."
Rio looked into the penalty box. Zirkzee and Orsolini were waiting for a cross. Benfica's goalkeeper, Vlachodimos, stepped forward slightly to cut out the cross.
Rio saw the keeper's position. The system in his head calculated the variables instantly. The distance was thirty-eight meters. The angle was barely two degrees. The defender density was high. The Goal Probability was an absolute 0.00.
Zero. Impossible. Benfica's computer predicted Rio would pass. Otamendi predicted Rio would pass. The crowd predicted Rio would pass.
Perfect.
Rio didn't pass. He planted his left foot firmly into the grass. He twisted his body in a biologically awkward way, turning his back to the goal for a split second, then snapped his right hip with terrifying violence.
This wasn't a normal shooting technique. He used the outside of his right foot—a Trivela—but with the full power of his Grade B- Physique focused into a single point of impact.
[Skill Active: The Mirage Strike (Variant: The Boomerang)]
WHAM.
The impact sound was different. It wasn't a thud; it was a crack. The ball didn't loop toward the penalty box. It rocketed... out of bounds?
"He threw it away!" the Portuguese commentator shouted with glee. "What a terrible shot! That's heading for the corner flag!"
Vlachodimos, the keeper, smiled and lowered his hands, letting the ball go out. Otamendi stopped running. Ramos shook his head in the center circle.
But then, physics surrendered.
As the ball passed the edge of the penalty area, the insane spin reacted with the air friction. An extreme Magnus Effect took over. The ball that was heading out of play suddenly swerved sharply to the left. Violently sharp. Like a remote-controlled boomerang.
Vlachodimos's smile vanished. His eyes widened in pure terror. The ball wasn't going out. It was curling back toward the goal with increasing speed.
"IMPOSSIBLE!" the keeper screamed, jumping backward desperately.
But he was too far off his line. He had anticipated a cross, not a banana shot from hell.
The ball bypassed Vlachodimos's outstretched hand, smashed against the inside of the far post with a deafening CLANG, and ricocheted into the net.
Total silence fell over the Estádio da Luz. Sixty-five thousand people stood with their mouths open. No cheers. No boos. Just the silence of human brains trying to process a violation of geometric laws.
Rio stood on the sideline, his chest heaving. He stared directly at Gonçalo Ramos, who was frozen in the center circle. Rio raised one finger to his temple, then pointed at the Benfica striker.
That, Rio's gesture said, is an anomaly you cannot calculate.
In the VIP box, Noah Lami stood up so fast his chair fell over. He stared at his tablet, frantically refreshing the data feed. "Error," he whispered, his face pale. "The model says the ball went out. It... it doesn't register the goal."
On the sideline, Roger Schmidt kicked a water bottle, sending water spraying everywhere. "That's not physics!" he screamed at his assistant. "That's witchcraft!"
The System gave an instant confirmation: Mission Complete.Target Achieved.Global Gacha Feature (Tier 2) Unlocked.
Locker Room.Halftime.Score: Benfica 1 - 1 Bologna.
The atmosphere in the Bologna locker room wasn't euphoria, but disbelief. Orsolini held Rio's head as if checking for an alien inside. "What was that?!" Orsolini shouted. "I saw the ball go out of the stadium! How did it come back in?"
Rio sat on his bench, gulping down water. His leg throbbed slightly—one of the three daily usage limits for Mirage Strike had been used. But it felt worth it.
Coach Italiano entered, his face flushed red with excitement. "They are shaken! Did you see Schmidt's face? He slammed his water bottle! Their algorithm is broken!"
Adrian Vance approached Rio. He showed his tablet. "The xG of that shot was literally zero, Rio," Adrian said, shaking his head. "The computer registered it as a 'Cross attempt gone wrong'. But you aimed for it, didn't you?"
"I aimed for it," Rio answered calmly.
Suddenly, the System screen appeared in front of Rio's eyes. The mission reward had opened. A golden roulette wheel appeared, different from the usual gacha. Around the wheel, instead of skill names, there were country flags.
The description appeared: Global Gacha Tier 2. This feature allowed Rio to summon a "Shadow" of a legendary player from the past to borrow one specific attribute for forty-five minutes. Spin Cost: 10 Days of Lifespan.
Rio stared at the option. The second half was about to start. Benfica would adapt. Ramos would become even more vicious. A 1-1 scoreline away from home wasn't safe yet. He needed something to kill this game.
"Spin," Rio commanded silently.
[Payment Accepted. Remaining Lifespan: 214 Days.]
The wheel spun. Country flags flashed by. Brazil... France... Argentina... Netherlands... The wheel slowed down. And stopped on the flag of Brazil.
The System announced the selected entity: Shadow Summoned: The Phenomenon (R9)Borrowed Attribute: Explosive Acceleration (Grade S+)Duration: 45 Minutes (Second Half)
Rio felt a rush of hot electricity course through his thighs and calves. His muscles tightened, expanding with new potential energy. He had gained the burst speed of the original Ronaldo Nazário. The Phenomenon.
Rio stood up. His smile widened.
"Let's go out," Rio said to his team. "The machine is broken. Now it's time we destroy the components."