Time's Ticking (2)

Rashid was already late.

The journey from The Imperium to the hotel took 15 minutes each way. That meant Rashid only had a maximum of 15 minutes to try his luck at the casino machines.

However, he had already been here for 20 minutes and still hadn't found the right card.

Finally, the card card appeared, but none of them matched Rashid's expectations. The class displayed on the cards clearly reflected each player's abilities.

Ian Wright (Class C), Dino Baggio (Class B), Ruggero Rizzitelli (Class C), Marco Materazzi (Class C).

For the last name, although somewhat familiar, Rashid still doubted if it was good enough.

Unfortunately, that's all he got. Nine tries, and only four successes. 4500 coins had been used. He had already spent 22,500 euros.

When Rashid exchanged coins for the tenth time, the bartender looked at him with pity. He must have been mistaken for an incurable gambling addict. But what people thought of him was the last thing Rashid wanted to think about right now.

Time was ticking. The game on the field had likely reached the 65th minute by now. If he went back now, he'd be back on the field by the 80th minute. There would still be 10 minutes left to change tactics, but would that even make a difference?

Football was like a battlefield. When one person faced ten, they were bound to be slaughtered. No matter the tactics, no matter how strong their mentality, no matter how big their courage.

Unless they had one thing. This one thing could be technical ability, savvy use of the environment, or just plain luck. One thing called the X Factor.

And right now, Rashid didn't have that X Factor.

Rashid inserted the coins one by one. If there was one thing he had learned after so many failures: he had to insert the coins gradually, at least three times.

He put in 200 coins.

The images showed cherries, apples, apples, cherries, bananas.

He lost. But that was expected. This time, Rashid inserted 100 coins again.

The slot showed bananas, cherries, apples, guavas, grapes.

Another loss. But once again, Rashid had anticipated it.

He looked at the remaining 200 coins. 'This is the last one.' Rashid's funds were completely depleted. He didn't even have money left until the beginning of next week.

If this failed, all his efforts would be in vain.

The coin was inserted. Rashid pressed the button. The images on the slot machine started spinning.

As it slowed down, it showed cherries, grapes, grapes, oranges…

And apples.

'You lost.'

Rashid gaped in disbelief. His entire body went limp. He repeatedly checked the prize socket. Nothing came out. Not even a Class C card.

Rashid gritted his teeth. His hands clenched into fists, and his emotions flared. 'Damn—'

Just before his fist landed on the casino machine's screen, a sharp ringing echoed in his head.

[Congratulations]

[You have spent a total of 5000 coins in the game]

[Your level has increased: Lv. 1 => Lv. 2]

[You can now use the Spirit Legendary System portably. No need to visit a casino machine to play anymore]

[Increases win percentage to 75%]

[Level-up reward: 1 Class S Player Card]

[From now on, the cards obtained will range from Class B to Class S]

[Exchange 50,000 coins to reach the next level]

Rashid ignored the rest and focused on the middle notification.

Class S Player Card.

It didn't come from the casino machine's prize slot. It appeared in the air, its virtual screen glowing, and when Rashid reached out, he was holding the card.

'This…'

The card was an embodiment of disaster.

*#*

Elena watched from her office. It was the 80th minute. The score was 0-2. And they were down a player.

Despite having the advantage in numbers, even Spezia was reluctant to play openly. Well, why, tho? They had already secured enough goals. Some of their players had been substituted for more defensive ones.

On the other side, Aeterna, exhausted, made ineffective substitutions. Right after one of their players was sent off, their formation lost any coherent shape. Their passes were sloppy. Their attack transitions were a mess.

It was all decided: Aeterna would lose.

Elena thought of Rashid and the promise he had made to Vittorio.

Elena felt somewhat guilty. If she had interrupted and stopped Rashid earlier, this foolish bet wouldn't have happened. 'Why do men always like doing reckless things?'

There was a knock at her door. When she opened it, Elena's assistant appeared, looking pale. "Mrs. Marion, there's a disturbance outside. Someone is being surrounded by a group of grim-looking men. There are too many of them for our security to handle. Should we call the police?"

'Scary-looking man?:

Elena's eyes widened as she realized. "Tell me, are they using Rolls Royces?"

The assistant looked confused. "There are a few Rolls Royces parked outside, but we don't know if—"

Elena immediately walked past her. 'There's no mistake. What is Father doing here?'

"Tell me, did Mr. Alfaro leave the match?" Elena asked as she made her way through the long corridors.

"Yes, he stepped out briefly to take care of something. Wait, the man being surrounded… it's not him, is it?"

It was him. Even from a distance, Elena could recognize Rashid, wearing his green sports attire, in the midst of a dozen men in tuxedos.

As she got closer, she could even hear Vittorio's voice.

"It's already the 80th minute. And your team is down two goals. Shouldn't you be getting ready? We certainly won't go easy on someone who has underestimated us."

"It's still the 80th minute."

"Huh?"

"Like you said. It's still the 80th minute. So there's still time. Now move aside, because I have unfinished business inside."

"You bastard. It seems you can't be reasoned with politely, huh—"

Before Vittorio could finish, Elena quickly intervened. "Papa!"

Everyone's attention turned to Elena. She sighed. "Mr. Alfaro is right. This isn't over yet. Please let him pass."

Vittorio frowned. "What is this, Elena? Now you're going against me too? Tell me, what has this man done to cloud your judgment?"

Elena glanced at Rashid. The man was sweating and exhausted. Whatever he had just been doing, it wasn't good. But those were the same eyes she had seen before. Eyes that hadn't given up.

"Mr. Alfaro is my employee, and I'm just ensuring he fulfills his duties and receives his rights." Elena bit her lip, hoping Vittorio would relent. "So… please."

After a few tense seconds, Vittorio finally spoke. "Fine." He ordered his men to step aside.

Rashid immediately rushed past them, running.

"But remember, Elena." Vittorio called out again. "When you choose to interfere, there's no turning back. You know our family's principle. We don't forgive those who oppose us."

Elena swallowed and nodded. "Of course, Papa."

Her gaze followed Rashid's retreating figure. 'I've dragged myself into this mess. If you fail, I'll kill you myself.'

*#*

It was hell.

Enzo had felt this before. They were losing. Only five minutes remained. There was no way out.

It felt worse because they had actually had some chances.

And knowing you failed despite knowing you could have given more created a strange, nauseating feeling.

"It's not over. This isn't over yet." Sandro shouted, trying to keep the team's spirits up. Seeing the team's morale drop, he couldn't stay quiet.

But no matter how strong Sandro's motivational words were, Enzo didn't feel moved.

His stamina was drained. His spirit was gone. His hope had faded.

Enzo went to retrieve the ball for a throw-in. He moved so slowly that Sandro yelled at him from behind, saying the more time they wasted, the worse it would get.

But was there any worse scenario than this?

"Hey."

Someone slapped both of Enzo's cheeks. He looked up. For a moment, those eyes seemed like salvation, but Enzo soon realized that person was no different from other coaches. They spouted nonsense, made promises, and abandoned them.

"Hey!" Rashid slapped his cheeks again.

Enzo spoke weakly. "Coach, please substitute me."

"No."

"I don't have the stamina left. Besides, the result is already clear. We've lost."

"It's not over yet!" Rashid grabbed Enzo's shoulders. "I don't care if you have no stamina left or if your legs can't move. You'll keep playing as long as I order you to, even if your legs break. If you understand, nod, because I'm about to tell you how we're going to win."