Stadio Renato Dall'Ara, Bologna.Tuesday Night. 2nd Minute.Round of 16, Second Leg.
The trap snapped shut, accompanied by the deafening roar of thirty thousand spectators.
Following Roger Schmidt's aggressive instructions, Benfica started the match with suicidal confidence. Six of their players pressed deep into Bologna's defensive third. Their last line of defense—led by the veteran Nicolás Otamendi—stood a full five meters inside Bologna's half.
They were betting their tournament life on one fatal assumption: Rio Valdes couldn't run.
Sam Beukema controlled the ball in his own penalty box. Gonçalo Ramos sprinted toward him like a guided missile, trying to block the short passing lane.
But Beukema didn't look at his teammate beside him. He looked at the sky. With one calm swing of his right leg, the Dutch defender launched a long ball into the vast empty acreage behind Benfica's defenders.
"That's a waste!" the Portuguese commentator shouted in the press box. "There's no one high enough to chase it!"
But Roger Schmidt, standing on the sideline, felt a sudden chill crawl up his spine. He saw Rio Valdes.
Rio didn't turn stiffly. He didn't drag his feet. He spun his body with a kinetic explosion that tore up the turf beneath his boots.
[Physical Status: Speed B- (Restored)][Passive Skill: Elastic Hips (Acceleration Boost) Active]
In the first second, Rio hit 20 km/h. In the second, he hit 30 km/h. By the third, he was a red-and-blue blur tearing through the night air.
Otamendi turned and tried to chase, but the visual contrast was brutal. It was like watching a Fiat try to catch a Formula 1 car on a straight track. The five-meter head start that separated them vanished in two violent strides.
"He's not injured!" Antonio Silva, the panicked young Benfica defender, screamed as he tried to sprint diagonally to cover the lane.
Too late.
Rio caught the ball on his chest, cushioning it softly while running at full tilt—a technique of such high difficulty that it made the crowd gasp.
Now, it was just him, goalkeeper Vlachodimos, and forty meters of empty green grass.
Rio didn't slow down. He dribbled with long, arrogant touches. Every touch was a declaration of war against Benfica's statistical data.
Vlachodimos hesitated. Should he come out? Should he stay on his line? That split-second of hesitation was fatal.
Rio entered the penalty box. He didn't do any tricks. No step-overs. No complicated chips. He simply smashed the ball as hard as he could into the bottom corner.
BOOM.
The net shook violently.
GOAL.Bologna 1 - 0 Benfica.(Agg: 3 - 1)
The Renato Dall'Ara exploded. The noise was so physical it felt like a localized earthquake.
Rio didn't perform a backflip. He didn't run to the corner flag. instead, he sprinted straight toward the Benfica bench. He stopped right in front of a frozen Roger Schmidt. Rio pointed at his own legs, then pressed his index finger to his lips.
Your data is trash, that stare said. Never doubt this machine.
Minute 25.Machine Adaptation.
The euphoria of the early goal slowly faded, replaced by a suffocating tactical tension.
Benfica wasn't an amateur team. They were the champions of Portugal, forged in high-pressure fires. After realizing their fatal mistake, Roger Schmidt didn't panic. He gave a complicated hand signal from the sideline: Plan B.
"They're retreating!" Adrian Vance shouted from the Bologna bench, recognizing the shift. "Low Block!"
Benfica's defensive line, which had been high and arrogant moments ago, dropped back drastically. They parked the bus right in front of their own penalty box. The empty space behind the defenders—Rio's playground—evaporated.
Now, Benfica played tight. The distance between players returned to a precise, suffocating twelve meters. They invited Bologna to play in a phone booth.
"Now what, Speedster?" Otamendi muttered as he bumped Rio in an aerial duel. "No more room to run."
Rio landed and smirked. "I don't need to run, Nico. Didn't you watch the Juventus match?"
Rio changed his game mode. He was no longer a Speedster. He reverted to the False Nine role he had mastered during his debuff period.
Rio dropped deep into the midfield, dragging Otamendi out of position. When Otamendi took the bait, Rio used his Elastic Hips to shield the ball, then released a laser-sharp through pass toward Zirkzee, who was entering the gap Otamendi left behind.
Zirkzee shot! Unfortunately, Vlachodimos made a brilliant fingertip save, pushing the ball onto the post.
Bologna dominated. Rio became the center of gravity on the pitch. He was a double threat: give him space, he runs; close him down, he creates.
Minute 42.Algorithm Counter-Attack.
Bologna was too comfortable. And comfort is the insidious killer of football teams.
Because they were so focused on cracking Benfica's "Low Block," Bologna's defensive line pushed up too high. Lucumi and Beukema were standing near the halfway line, lulled into a false sense of security.
Suddenly, Benfica snapped the trap. Florentino Luís stole the ball from Ferguson with a surgical tackle. In the blink of an eye, the transition happened.
"Ramos!" Florentino shouted.
Gonçalo Ramos, who had looked invisible for forty minutes, suddenly came alive. He didn't run straight. He made a curved run to stay onside, bending his path like a bow.
A long pass was launched. Accurate as if guided by a computer. Ramos received the ball on the right flank. Beukema tried to chase him, but Ramos was fresh, and Beukema was caught flat-footed.
Rio watched from a distance, helpless. He saw Ramos lift his head. Ramos wasn't selfish. He saw Rafa Silva sprinting into empty space on the left.
"Cover the center!" Skorupski screamed.
Ramos sent a perfect low cross between the keeper and the last defender. Rafa Silva tapped the ball into the empty net.
GOAL.Bologna 1 - 1 Benfica.(Agg: 3 - 2)
The stadium fell silent. The aggregate score was now 3-2. One more goal for Benfica, and the tie would be completely level. The momentum had shifted violently.
Ramos picked the ball out of the net and ran back to the center circle. As he passed Rio, the Portuguese striker didn't mock him. His face was deadly serious.
"We adapted, Rio," Ramos said coldly. "You have speed. We have a system. Let's see which one breaks first."
Locker Room.Halftime.
The atmosphere was heavy. A score of 1-1 (Agg 3-2) was a dangerous precipice. One mistake, and Bologna could be dragged into extra time, where Benfica's superior physical stamina and depth would likely crush them.
Coach Italiano slammed the tactical board. "Focus! You lost concentration in the final minute! Ramos isn't a statue; he's waiting for you to blink!"
Rio sat on his bench, regulating his breathing. His stamina was still at 70%. Physically, he was fine. But mentally, he felt the crushing weight of "The Knockout Stage."
Suddenly, a golden notification appeared in his vision, overriding the room.
[Quest Update: The Speed Demon][Condition Detected: Enemy utilizing high-level 'Low Block'.][New Challenge: Break the Bus.][Objective: Perform a 'Solo Run' past a minimum of 3 players before scoring a goal or an assist.][Reward: New Skill - 'The Heavy Tank' (Body Balance Grade A).]
Rio's eyes widened. A Solo Run past three players? Against a team with one of the most disciplined defensive structures in Europe? It sounded crazy. It sounded selfish. But it was also the only way to destroy the morale of a team defending with eleven men behind the ball.
Adrian approached, holding his tablet. "Rio, they are stacking players in the middle. The wings are the key. But you need the strength to cut inside."
Rio nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "I know. Second half, give me the ball at the halfway line. I'll do it myself."
"Yourself?" Adrian frowned. "That's risky. If you lose the ball, they counter."
"High risk is the only way to break a high wall," Rio replied, standing up.
He looked at his teammates. The doubt was creeping into their eyes. They needed a leader. "Listen!" Rio's voice echoed off the tiled walls. "They scored one goal and they think they have hope. Let's kill that hope. 45 minutes to history. Who's with me?"
"WE ARE!" the team shouted in unison.
Rio walked out of the tunnel. In his head, he was already visualizing the path. Three players. Three obstacles. One destination.
The second half would be the stage for The Speed Demon.