Stadio Renato Dall'Ara, Bologna.Tuesday Night. 60th Minute.Score: Bologna 1 - 1 Benfica (Agg: 3 - 2).
The game had turned into a swamp.
For fifteen minutes of the second half, the ball had barely moved out of the midfield. Benfica had constructed a fortress of red shirts. It was a double bank of four that shifted with robotic precision, stifling every Bologna attempt. They weren't trying to score anymore. They were waiting. Just one mistake, one loose pass, and they would steal the game to force extra time.
The noise in the stadium had shifted from electric enthusiasm to nervous murmurs. The fans could feel the danger hanging in the humid night air. A single Benfica goal would level the aggregate at 3-3, and Bologna's legs were visibly tiring.
Rio Valdes walked to the center circle. He wiped sweat from his eyes, stinging with salt. His chest heaved, lungs burning for oxygen, but his mind was crystal clear.
The System Quest [Break the Bus] pulsed in his vision. The objective was brutal in its simplicity: Dribble past 3 players. Score.
It sounded like a video game challenge. In the real world, against a Champions League defense, it was suicide. But Rio didn't see red shirts and tactical lines. He saw a slalom course.
"Give it to me," Rio demanded, pointing to his feet.
Lucumi, the center-back, didn't hesitate. He drilled the ball to Rio, who was standing just inside the Benfica half, back to the goal.
As soon as the leather touched Rio's boot, the atmosphere shifted.
The Benfica midfield collapsed on him instantly. Florentino Luís came from the left. Chiquinho came from the right. They were the jaws of a trap, designed to crush anyone foolish enough to try and turn.
Rio didn't pass back. He didn't shield the ball. Instead, he utilized his Elastic Hips in a way that defied conventional biomechanics. He dipped his left shoulder, feinting a pass to the wing. It was subtle, but convincing. Both Florentino and Chiquinho bought the fake, shifting their weight for a fraction of a second.
That was enough.
Rio dragged the ball back with his sole, spun 180 degrees, and split the two midfielders. He didn't just run past them. He glided through the microscopic gap between their bodies like water flowing through a crack in a dam.
The crowd gasped. One movement. Two players beaten.
"He turned!" the commentator screamed. "Valdes has turned!"
Rio was now facing the goal. Forty meters out. But the real challenge lay ahead. Nicolás Otamendi, the butcher of Argentina, stepped out of the defensive line. He wasn't looking at the ball. He was staring directly at Rio's knees.
Otamendi didn't jockey. He lunged. It was a tactical foul in the making, a slide tackle aimed to wipe Rio out before he could build momentum.
Rio saw the studs coming. The logical move was to jump and avoid the injury. But the Quest required him to dribble past, not avoid.
Rio gritted his teeth. He pushed the ball forward, right past Otamendi's sliding form. Then, he did something insane. He didn't jump over the tackle. He rode it.
CRACK.
Otamendi's shin collided with Rio's ankle. Pain shot up Rio's leg, hot and sharp. A normal player would have rolled on the grass, screaming for a yellow card. A normal bone would have fractured.
But Rio's Phoenix Bone structure absorbed the shock. The impact shook him, throwing him off balance, but the bone held firm like a titanium rod.
Rio stumbled. His hand grazed the grass to steady himself. The referee put the whistle to his lips, ready to blow for the foul.
But Rio stood up. He kept running. The referee waved his arms wide. Play on. Advantage.
"He's still going!" Adrian Vance shouted from the bench, gripping his wheelchair wheels so hard his knuckles turned white.
Rio regained his stride. The pain in his ankle was throbbing, a dull drumbeat in his head, but the adrenaline drowned it out. He was now twenty meters from the goal. Only one man left. António Silva. The young prodigy. The last line of defense.
Silva was terrified. He was backing away, retreating into his own penalty box, afraid of diving in like Otamendi. He kept his eyes on the ball, his stance wide, trying to delay Rio.
Rio didn't slow down. He charged straight at Silva. When they were two meters apart, Rio dropped his shoulder to the right. Silva shifted. Rio dropped his shoulder to the left. Silva froze.
Rio executed La Croqueta. He shifted the ball from his right foot to his left foot in mid-air. It was so fast that Silva's brain couldn't process the directional change. The defender got his feet tangled and collapsed backward onto the turf without Rio even touching him.
Rio stepped over the fallen defender. He was through.
Three players beaten. The path was clear. Vlachodimos, the Benfica goalkeeper, rushed out, screaming, spreading his arms to make himself big.
Rio didn't blast it. He didn't panic. The roar of the stadium faded into a dull hum. Time seemed to stop. Rio saw the bottom right corner. He saw the goalkeeper's weight shift to the left.
With the cold blood of an assassin, Rio opened his body and gently side-footed the ball. It rolled across the grass, slow, precise, and inevitable. It slipped under the goalkeeper's diving arm.
It kissed the inside of the post. And crossed the line.
GOAL.Bologna 2 - 1 Benfica.(Agg: 4 - 2)
For a second, there was no sound. The fans couldn't believe what they had just witnessed. Then, the Renato Dall'Ara detonated. It wasn't a cheer. It was a primal scream of thirty thousand people witnessing a miracle.
Rio didn't run. He couldn't. He simply spread his arms wide, tilting his head back to the night sky, letting the wave of noise wash over him.
A golden text appeared, overlaying the chaotic scene of his teammates rushing to pile on top of him.
Quest Complete: Break the Bus.Performance: Legendary.Reward Unlocked: Passive Skill 'The Heavy Tank'.
The description flooded his mind: Increases Body Balance to Grade A. Player becomes significantly harder to knock off the ball during dribbles. Physical contact absorption increased by 30%.
Zirkzee tackled him from behind. Ferguson grabbed his neck. Orsolini was screaming unintelligible Italian into his ear.
Rio laughed, lying on the grass under the pile of bodies. His ankle throbbed. His lungs burned. But he felt heavy. Solid. Unmovable. The new skill was already integrating into his body.
Minute 85.The White Flag.
The goal broke Benfica. The psychological damage of seeing their entire defensive structure dismantled by one man was too much.
For the remaining minutes, Benfica looked like ghosts. Their passing was sloppy. Their pressing was disjointed. Even Gonçalo Ramos stopped running. He stood at the halfway line, hands on his hips, staring at Rio with a look of pure defeat.
Roger Schmidt sat on his bench, staring blankly at the field. The data had said Rio couldn't run. The data hadn't accounted for the human will to survive.
The referee checked his watch. Three minutes of stoppage time added. Bologna played keep-away. Rio controlled the tempo, using his new Body Balance (Grade A) to shield the ball in the corner. When a Benfica defender tried to shove him from behind, Rio didn't budge. He felt like a tree rooted in the earth.
Fweeeeet! Fweeeeet! Fweeeeeeeeeet!
The final whistle pierced the night air.
FULL TIME.Bologna 2 - 1 Benfica.(Aggregate: 4 - 2)
It was over. Bologna, the underdog team that was supposed to be eliminated in the group stage, was going to the Quarter-Finals of the Champions League.
The stadium DJ blasted Poppo, the club's victory anthem. The fans were crying. Coach Italiano was hugging every staff member in sight.
Rio limped toward the center circle. He found Gonçalo Ramos waiting there. The Portuguese striker took off his jersey and extended his hand.
"You won," Ramos said simply. "The machine broke."
Rio took the jersey and shook Ramos's hand. "Machines break when they meet chaos, Gonçalo. Good game."
Ramos nodded and walked away, disappearing into the tunnel.
Rio stood alone in the center of the pitch, clutching the Benfica jersey. He looked up at the VIP box where the club directors were celebrating. But his eyes went higher, past the lights, into the dark sky.
A new notification appeared, cold and indifferent to the celebration.
Main Mission Complete: The Knockout Stage.Reward: +20 Days Lifespan.Current Lifespan: 238 Days.
New Tournament Stage Unlocked: Quarter-Finals.Draw Date: Friday, 12:00 CET.Potential Opponents: Manchester City, Bayern Munich, Paris Saint-Germain...
Rio's smile faded slightly. 238 Days. He had bought himself more time. But the opponents were getting bigger. The monsters were getting scarier.
"Bring them on," Rio whispered. "I'm not done shopping yet."