By the time Fergus reached home on Friday night, the final five seconds of the St Cuthbert’s game had already improved considerably.
The actual play had been simple enough.
William had inbounded to Jaime, St Cuthbert’s had sent two defenders at Wallace’s best scorer, Fergus had cut along the baseline, and Jaime had fired the ball towards him.
Fergus had caught it with barely enough time to gather before throwing up a hurried floater that bounced twice on the rim and dropped through at the buzzer.
Angus’s version contained considerably more drama.
“So there were three people guarding Fergus…” “There weren’t.” “And he jumped over the giant…” “I definitely didn’t.” “…and then he scored from really far away.” Fergus stared at his younger brother from the other side of the kitchen table.
“Were you watching the same game?” Angus nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes.” Diane laughed as she placed a mug of tea in front of Hamish.
“I think I prefer Angus’s version.” “You weren’t even there.” “I’ve heard enough basketball stories from both of you to know they improve with time.” Hamish had missed the game because of his factory shift, which meant Fergus had been forced to recount almost everything from the beginning after returning home.
Diane had been working as well, leaving Angus with a family friend for the evening, so none of them had witnessed Wallace’s second victory of the season.
Fergus hadn’t minded telling them.
He had started with Edric, because explaining that St Cuthbert’s possessed a six-foot thirteen-year-old nicknamed the Giant of Killigan was considerably easier than immediately describing the game-winner.
Hamish had initially thought Fergus was exaggerating until he explained that William and Arthur had played with Edric at Killigan and confirmed his height.
“Six foot?” Hamish asked.
“About that.” “At thirteen?” “Yeah.” Hamish looked down at Fergus.
The nearly 13-year-old frowned.
“Don’t.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You were thinking it.” Hamish smiled into his tea.
Fergus continued with the game, describing how Merrick had struggled to defend Edric alone and how William had been forced to help whenever St Cuthbert’s managed to get the ball inside.
He told them about Finn making five threes before halftime, then another in the second half, and how Jaime had increasingly taken responsibility for Wallace’s offence once Finn cooled down.
He was considerably less detailed when describing his own contributions.
Angus corrected that.
“You fell over.” “I drew a foul.” “You still fell over.” “Because he moved into me while setting a screen.” “You also jumped into the crowd.” “I didn’t jump into the crowd.
I saved the ball.” Hamish raised an eyebrow.
“What happened?” Fergus explained the loose ball, his dive beyond the sideline and the blind slap backwards that had somehow found Jaime.
He admitted that he hadn’t known whether the save had worked until after hitting the floor, which Angus apparently regarded as further evidence that Fergus had done something extraordinary.
Then they reached the final possession.
Even Fergus couldn’t pretend that part hadn’t been special.
“The score was tied, there were five seconds left, and Coach put me back in.
The play was supposed to go through Jaime because obviously it was, but they doubled him as soon as he caught it.
Coach had told me to cut baseline if that happened, so I went.” “And Jaime passed?” Hamish asked.
“Hard.
I barely caught it properly.
Edric was coming across, so I just threw up the floater.” Diane smiled.
“You make it sound very calm.” “It wasn’t.” “What were you thinking?” Fergus considered that.
“Mostly that I needed to shoot before the buzzer.” Hamish laughed.
“It hit the rim twice,” Fergus continued.
“I thought it was coming out after the first bounce, then it hit again and dropped.” “And then everyone crushed him,” Angus added.
“That part is accurate.” The conversation lasted long after Fergus had expected it to.
Hamish wanted to know whether McKenzie had said anything afterwards, Diane asked whether Fergus had hurt himself diving out of bounds, and Angus demanded another explanation of why the basket had only counted for two points when it had been far more exciting than Finn’s three-pointers.
Eventually Diane noticed the time and sent both boys upstairs.
Fergus showered, changed and climbed into bed, but sleep wasn’t particularly appealing.
Not yet.
The System had been waiting patiently throughout the evening.
He had noticed the notifications after the game, but between the celebrations, changing, the journey home and telling his family what had happened, Fergus had resisted opening them properly.
Now he sat against his headboard and summoned the interface.
There were considerably more notifications than he expected.
The first was familiar.
‘Pick Dodger – Grey Tier: Basic Understanding unlocked.’ Fergus opened the description.
‘Pick Dodger’ ‘Tier: Grey – Basic Understanding’ ‘Develops the host’s understanding of recognising, anticipating and navigating standard on-ball screens while maintaining defensive positioning.’ ‘At Basic Understanding, emphasis is placed on early screen recognition, body positioning, avoiding unnecessary direct contact with established screeners and navigating over screens when appropriate.’ ‘Pick Dodger does not allow the host to pass through established screens, negate legal contact or automatically recover after being screened.’ ‘Effectiveness remains dependent upon recognition, positioning, physical ability, communication and the actions of both the screener and ball-handler.’ Fergus smiled.
After the previous two practices and the St Cuthbert’s game, none of the description surprised him.
The skill didn’t suddenly make screens irrelevant, and it certainly wasn’t going to stop someone Edric’s size from flattening him if Fergus ran directly into his chest.
It gave him a better foundation for avoiding that situation.
Exactly what McKenzie wanted.
The mission completion notification remained beneath it.
‘Mission Complete: Unlock Pick Dodger – Basic Understanding.’ ‘Reward: One Basic Understanding skill of user’s choice.’ That was the reward Fergus had been thinking about since Thursday.
Before choosing anything, however, he noticed two additional notifications.
The first made him sit straighter.
‘Milestone Achieved: Score 10+ points in a game.’ ‘Reward: 5,000 Hooper Coins.’ Fergus remembered the number.
Eleven.
He had scored eleven points against St Cuthbert’s.
Seven in the first half, the banked jumper after entering during the second-half run and finally the game-winning floater.
Fergus had been so absorbed by the finish that he hadn’t thought about his total afterwards.
The reward increased his balance from nothing to 5,000 Hooper Coins.
That alone would have made the night extraordinary.
Then Fergus opened the next notification.
‘Milestone Achieved: Hit your first game winner.’ ‘Reward: One Random Skill – Green Tier: Intermediate Understanding.’ Fergus stopped moving.
“Green?” He read it again.
Not Basic Understanding.
Intermediate Understanding.
Every random skill reward he had received previously had been Grey Tier.
Even Mikan Maestro had required a thirty-day advancement challenge before reaching Green.
An Intermediate Understanding skill meant skipping that entire first stage of development for whatever skill the System selected.
Fergus immediately claimed it.
The notification disappeared.
Another replaced it.
‘Random Skill Reward Generated.’ ‘Charge Champion – Green Tier: Intermediate Understanding acquired.’ Fergus’s excitement faltered slightly.
“Charge Champion?” Of all the possibilities available in the enormous Skill Library, that wasn’t exactly what he had imagined.
He opened the description.
‘Charge Champion’ ‘Tier: Green – Intermediate Understanding’ ‘Develops the host’s understanding of establishing legal defensive position to draw offensive fouls against attacking players.’ ‘At Intermediate Understanding, the host possesses enhanced comprehension of anticipating driving paths, establishing position outside restricted areas, maintaining legal guarding position and safely absorbing standard offensive contact.
The skill also develops understanding of situations in which attempting to draw a charge is tactically appropriate.’ ‘Charge Champion does not guarantee an offensive foul will be called.
Incorrect positioning, late rotations, legal offensive avoidance, referee judgement, physical mismatch and improper application may result in a defensive foul or unsuccessful attempt.’ Fergus leaned his head against the wall.
It wasn’t bad.
Actually, after thinking about it for several seconds, he realised it could be extremely useful.
Taking a charge could end a possession, create a turnover and potentially put an opposing player into foul trouble.
Fergus had just spent an entire game discovering how much one offensive foul could change momentum when Edric’s illegal screen ended St Cuthbert’s run.
Still, there were dozens upon dozens of skills in the Library.
Shooting skills.
Dribbling skills.
Finishing skills.
Passing skills.
Things that might address weaknesses Fergus thought about almost every day.
Instead, the System had randomly given him an Intermediate Understanding of getting run over legally.
“Brilliant.” Fergus couldn’t help laughing.
He wasn’t genuinely unhappy.
A Green skill was far too valuable for that, particularly when he had done nothing beyond making a shot to receive it.
Charge Champion was simply much more specialised than he had hoped.
Perhaps that was the danger of random rewards.
Random actually meant random.
Fergus returned to the mission reward.
That one wasn’t random.
A list of eligible Basic Understanding skills appeared when he selected it, and Fergus spent several minutes browsing.
The temptation to choose something offensive was immediate.
His handle remained limited, his outside shot inconsistent and his ability to create his own scoring opportunities almost nonexistent.
There were skills that could begin addressing those problems.
Yet every time Fergus considered one, he returned to the same question.
Why was he playing?
Not why he loved basketball or why he wanted to improve.
Why was Andrew McKenzie putting him on the court during actual games?
Defence.
Against Dalry, Fergus had changed the game because he contained their perimeter guard.
Against St Francis, even during a heavy defeat, McKenzie had continued using him because his defence remained useful.
Against St Cuthbert’s, he had been sent onto the floor when Wallace needed energy and later trusted in the final five seconds.
The scoring helped.
It could eventually help much more.
But defence was what had opened the door.
Fergus remembered a skill he had been staring at since the first weeks of possessing the System.
Cookie Thief.
The Shop had once shown a Yellow version costing 50,000 Hooper Coins, an absurd amount compared with anything Fergus possessed.
The Skill Library’s natural route towards even the Basic Understanding version had required Perimeter Pest to reach Green first.
The mission reward offered another route.
Fergus selected the Grey version and read the confirmation carefully.
‘Cookie Thief – Grey Tier: Basic Understanding.’ ‘Develops the host’s understanding of fundamental ball-stealing opportunities, including recognising exposed dribbles, identifying vulnerable ball positions and timing controlled attempts to disrupt possession.’ ‘At Basic Understanding, emphasis is placed on opportunistic steals rather than aggressive gambling.’ ‘Cookie Thief does not grant advanced anticipation, guarantee successful steals or prevent defensive breakdowns caused by failed attempts.
Poor timing or unnecessary reaching may result in fouls, lost defensive position or open driving lanes.’ That final warning mattered.
Fergus didn’t want to become someone who reached for the basketball every possession and surrendered an easy drive whenever he missed.
McKenzie would probably remove him from the court within minutes if he did.
But the potential was obvious.
Perimeter Pest helped him stay in front.
Pick Dodger could help him remain attached through screens.
Cookie Thief could begin teaching him when containment might become something more disruptive.
And Charge Champion offered another way to end possessions when attackers did get downhill.
Fergus made his decision.
‘Mission Reward Selected’.
‘Cookie Thief – Grey Tier: Basic Understanding acquired.’ The knowledge didn’t flood into him or suddenly make his hands faster.
Instead, as with every other skill, Fergus became aware of concepts he could begin exploring: moments when a dribble travelled too far from the ball-handler’s body, the difference between attacking the basketball and merely swiping at it, and the importance of preserving defensive position when the steal wasn’t truly available.
He would need practice.
Lots of it.
Fergus dismissed the description and sat quietly.
His repertoire had expanded dramatically in one night.
Pick Dodger.
Cookie Thief.
Charge Champion at Green.
The offensive skill he’d hoped to receive hadn’t arrived, but perhaps that didn’t matter as much as he initially thought.
Fergus was thirteen, undersized, physically weak and nowhere near polished enough offensively to compete with Jaime or Arthur for their roles.
Trying to become everything at once would take years.
Defence was different.
Fergus was already becoming good at it.
If he could stay in front of guards, navigate screens without disappearing from possessions, recognise opportunities to force turnovers and learn how to draw charges without simply getting himself flattened, then his value to McKenzie could increase considerably before his offence caught up.
Maybe enough to play twenty minutes.
Maybe enough to close games regularly.
Eventually, perhaps enough that starting him became a reasonable choice even if he wasn’t one of Wallace’s best scorers.
Purely because opponents hated being guarded by him.
Fergus liked that thought.
He finally dismissed the System and lay down, although his mind remained active for some time.
Saturday passed more quietly.
His body reminded him of Friday whenever he moved too quickly, particularly the side that had struck the floor during his save, and Diane made it clear that she wasn’t interested in hearing arguments about immediately returning to the court.
Fergus therefore spent much of the morning doing schoolwork, watching basketball and thinking about how he wanted to use the new skills once training resumed.
By Sunday, however, basketball wasn’t the only thing occupying his thoughts.
There was something else he had been considering for several weeks, something that had become increasingly difficult to ignore as games, training and school consumed more of his time.
It wasn’t something the System could decide for him.
On Sunday afternoon, Fergus sat at the edge of his bed for several minutes rehearsing how he wanted to explain it.
Voices drifted upstairs from the kitchen, where Hamish and Diane were talking while Angus watched television in the next room.
Fergus stood.
Whatever happened, he needed to ask.
He opened his bedroom door and started downstairs to speak with his parents.