The
energy in the gym
was at an all-time high as Alec Storm, Orlando Hoops' starting
Point Guard (#1),
dribbled the ball up the court with effortless confidence. Across from him, Evan Cooper,
Vorpal Basket's captain and starting Point Guard (#9),
was locked in, determined to contain Alec's assault.
Alec's sharp, calculating eyes
analyzed Evan in an instant.
With a smirk, he taunted—
"Looks like this team has someone who isn't completely useless."
Evan's grip on his shorts
tightened.
His muscles tensed, and his teeth clenched at Alec's arrogant words.
"What did you say?"
Alec
chuckled.
And then—
he attacked.
With an
explosive burst of speed,
Alec pounded the ball low, alternating between his right and left hand in rapid succession. His dribbles were
tight, controlled, and hypnotic.
Pound Dribble – Ankle Height – Right Hand.
Pound Dribble – Ankle Height – Left Hand.
Evan's eyes tried to track the movement,
his body reacting on instinct.
But Alec was fast—
too fast.
"Damn it, I can barely keep up!"
Evan thought, sweat forming on his brow.
Then—
Alec spun.
A devastating
Spin Move Dribble.
Evan's legs buckled.
His body tilted the wrong way, his balance
shattered.
And then—
he dropped.
Knees hitting the hardwood floor, Evan
stared in shock
as Alec effortlessly finished his spin, leaving him completely behind.
The
crowd erupted.
"DID HE JUST DROP EVAN?!"
"OH SHIT! HE BROKE HIS ANKLES!!"
Even Orlando's bench players stood up, shaking their heads in admiration.
Alec, standing tall,
looked down at Evan
with an amused smirk.
"Ordinary people will always be ordinary."
Evan's
fists clenched.
The humiliation burned deep in his chest, but there was nothing he could do. Alec was just
on another level.
Alec casually turned, his eyes scanning the court before finding
Ethan Blake, Orlando Hoops' Starting Power Forward (#4).
With a simple flick of the wrist, he
whipped a pass
straight into Ethan's hands.
But even as he passed the ball, Alec's thoughts were
elsewhere.
His gaze drifted toward
Lucas Graves.
That
benchwarmer.
The one who had
imitated his moves perfectly.
But it wasn't just copying—it was
superior.
Alec narrowed his eyes.
"Who the hell is this guy? How did he steal my moves... and make them better?"
Lucas, standing ready on defense, was breathing heavily. His
Absolute Mimicry
was taking its toll.
"This is exhausting,"
Lucas thought, feeling his muscles burn.
"This ability pushes me to my limit."
But he wasn't backing down.
Not now. Not ever.
Lucas wiped sweat from his brow, eyes locked onto Alec.
"I trained my body ever since I started playing basketball. Even without talent, I never stopped pushing myself."
"Now that I have Absolute Mimicry, I won't waste this chance. I'll give it everything I have."
Lucas
dug his feet into the floor, ready for the next play.
Lucas
locked eyes
with Ethan Blake, Orlando Hoops'
Starting Power Forward (#4).
A
post monster.
"He's strong."
Lucas thought, steadying himself.
But strong doesn't mean I can't stop him
Ethan Blake
grinned
, pounding the ball hard against the polished hardwood floor.
THUD.
THUD.
His dribble was heavy, powerful—
each bounce like a warning.
"Let's see if you can stop this!!"
Ethan roared, lowering his shoulder and
charging forward.
Lucas
shifted his stance, eyes analyzing Ethan's every movement.
Then—
it happened.
A sensation spread through Lucas's body, like a switch flipping in his brain.
Absolute Mimicry activated.
In his mind, the details
snapped into focus.
Ethan's footwork. His positioning. The precise angle of his back-down move.
Lucas wasn't just seeing it—
he understood it.
The power. The balance. The sheer force behind it.
And now,
he had it too.
Ethan pounded the ball once, then twice, before
making his move.
A powerful drop step.
Lucas
moved instantly.
His feet glided, mirroring the motion
frame for frame.
The crowd gasped—
Lucas had just copied Ethan's movement in real-time!
But he didn't stop there.
Just as Ethan went up for the shot,
Lucas predicted it—
His body reacted perfectly.
A precise
contest at the exact right moment.
Ethan's shot
rolled off the rim.
Lucas
snatched the rebound effortlessly.
Gasps echoed through the gym.
Ethan's eyes
widened in disbelief.
"WHAT?! HE MOVED JUST LIKE ME!"
Lucas didn't hesitate.
He exploded down the court.
Alec Storm's sharp eyes caught the movement.
His expression darkened.
"No way... he mimicked Ethan's footwork...?"
Lucas
crossed half-court,
scanning the Orlando defense.
Alec moved to cut him off—
Lucas
immediately recalled Alec's dribbling sequence from before.
And then—
he did it.
Pound Dribble – Ankle Height – Right Hand.
Pound Dribble – Ankle Height – Left Hand.
Alec's eyes
widened.
"HE'S USING MY MOVES?!"
Then—
the spin move.
FLAWLESS.
Alec
stumbled, completely caught off guard.
Lucas
was already past him.
But it wasn't over.
Mason Hayes was next, stepping up as the last defender.
Lucas
smirked.
He had watched Mason's finishing style earlier.
Now it was his.
Lucas
gathered at the rim—
A perfect mid-air pump fake.
Mason
bit.
Lucas
switched hands mid-air, adjusting the shot angle—
The ball floated off the glass... and dropped in.
SWISH.
The
gym ERUPTED.
"WHAT THE HELL DID WE JUST WITNESS?!"
Ethan Blake
froze.
Mason Hayes
froze.
Even Alec Storm, the self-proclaimed genius, felt his heart
skip a beat.
Lucas landed softly,
his expression calm, but inside, his blood was pumping.
He turned back, meeting Ethan's glare with a confident smile.
"I stopped it."
Lucas said, his voice even.
"And I can do it again."
Ethan's
fists clenched.
"You little—"
The Orlando Hoops' bench
erupted in murmurs.
Even Coach Fred Mason of Vorpal Basket, who had ignored Lucas all game, finally leaned forward.
"What the hell is this kid...?"
The momentum had shifted.
BZZZT!
The shrill sound of the buzzer
cut through the air.
TIMEOUT – Orlando Hoops.
The gym was filled with
mixed reactions.
The Orlando fans were murmuring in confusion, while Vorpal Basket's bench players
exchanged shocked glances.
Lucas
had just entered the game... and forced Orlando Hoops to call a timeout.
On the Orlando Hoops' bench,
Coach Guy Corson's expression was unreadable.
But inside, he was furious.
He grabbed the stat sheet from one of his assistants and looked at the scoreboard:
Orlando Hoops – 32
Vorpal Basket – 19
Still a comfortable lead.
But something was off.
For the first time in the game,
they had lost momentum.
And it was because of
one
player.
Corson turned his sharp gaze toward his players, his voice
low but firm.
"Time to crush them
, boys."
The five starters looked up at him, their casual demeanor shifting into something
colder, more focused.
Orlando Hoops - Starting Five:
Alec Storm – Starting Point Guard (#1)
Age:
15
Hair:
Black
Personality:
Cocky, highly skilled, dismisses weak opponents.
Abilities:
Elite Playmaker, Game Control,
Exceptional dribbling, passing, and decision-making.
Weakness:
Overconfident, underestimates unknown opponents.
Alec
crossed his arms
, his smirk gone.
"Guess I misjudged that guy."
He muttered.
Corson's eyes flickered toward him.
"Alec, I don't want you just playing around anymore. Shut him down."
Alec nodded, cracking his knuckles.
"Understood, Coach. No more freebies."
Mason Hayes – Starting Shooting Guard (#2)
Age:
15
Hair:
Dark Blonde
Personality:
Smug, thrives under pressure.
Abilities:
Elite Shooter, Clutch Scorer,
Can shoot from anywhere with precision.
Weakness:
Defensive focus is average.
Mason let out a short laugh.
"I'll make sure that kid doesn't get another clean shot."
Corson's
eyes narrowed.
"You let him get past you like a fool earlier. Fix it."
Mason's smugness
faded slightly.
"Got it."
Julian Cross – Starting Small Forward (#3)
Age:
15
Hair:
Light Brown
Personality:
Calm, highly athletic, defensive-minded.
Abilities:
Versatile Forward, Driving Ability, Defensive Specialist
Weakness:
Lacks a consistent three-point shot.
Julian cracked his neck and nodded.
"I'll keep him locked up."
Corson's lips pressed into a thin line.
Ethan Blake – Starting Power Forward (#4)
Age:
15
Hair:
Dark Brown
Personality:
Tough, dominant in the post.
Abilities:
Post Skills, Strong Defender
Weakness:
Struggles against speed-based players.
Ethan clenched his fists.
"I won't let that punk embarrass me again."
Corson's eyes
hardened.
"Good. Now prove it."
Jaxon Wells – Starting Center (#5)
Age:
15
Hair:
Black
Personality:
Silent, dominant in the paint, strongest defensive player.
Abilities:
Dominant Paint Presence, Physicality
Weakness:
Poor free-throw shooter.
Jaxon simply
nodded.
He never talked much, but when he did, he made it count.
"Understood."
Corson scanned his players one last time before
nodding.
"No more games. Shut them down. Destroy their confidence."
Alec Storm grinned, standing up from the bench.
"Oh, this is gonna be fun."
....
Vorpal Basket - On the Court
Lucas sat on the bench, taking deep breaths. His
heart pounded
, his muscles were slightly sore, but his mind was
clear.
Evan Cooper and the others sat beside him, still in shock.
Josh Turner, who had injured his ankle earlier, leaned forward slightly.
"Yo... did that actually just happen?"
Ryan Taylor, Vorpal Basket's power forward, shook his head in disbelief.
"Did He just—mimicked them."
Aiden White crossed his arms, eyes still wide.
"Not just mimicked them. He copied them and made it better."
Evan, still sweating from the play before the timeout, ran a hand through his hair and exhaled.
"That... wasn't normal."
Lucas, hearing all of them whisper about him, let out a
chuckle.
Suddenly, a voice scoffed from the side.
"Tch, so what? You guys acting like he just won us the game."
Lucas turned to see
Coonie Smith,
another bench player. He had
short, messy black hair
and was known for his
bitter personality.
But deep down, Lucas knew
he wasn't a bad guy—just frustrated.
Ethan smirked and leaned back.
"What's wrong, Coonie? Feeling salty?"
Coonie rolled his eyes.
"I'm just saying, don't start acting like this dude's some basketball god. He got a couple of good plays, so what? We're still down by 19."
Lucas just smiled.
"Yeah. And I'm going back in to fix that."
Coonie scoffed but didn't look away.
"Hah. You sound confident. Let's see if you can back it up."
Ethan chuckled, nudging Lucas with his elbow.
"Men...."
Lucas shrugged.
"It's fine. I like proving people wrong."
The scoreboard flashed—
still 19 points down.
Still a long way to go.
But the momentum...
It was shifting.
Evan stood up.
"Let's go."
Lucas nodded.
The whistle blew—
Timeout over.
Orlando Hoops walked back onto the court with
deadly focus.
Lucas could feel it.
They weren't playing around anymore.
But neither was he.
...
Ethan Albarado POV
"Finally... this is it."
I leaned forward on the bench, watching the game unfold with sharp focus.
This is the moment I've been waiting for.
Another player from our team would get injured from what I remember in the novel. I activated my system and quickly analyzed, our small forward.
I knew it—
Aiden White, the starting small forward.
...
Status:
Aiden White – Starting Small Forward (#7)
Age:
15
Hair:
Blonde
Personality:
Versatile but lacks an identity as a player.
Abilities:
Basic Athleticism, Basic Versatility, Basic Consistency
Weakness:
Lacks effectiveness in key areas.
.....
I exhaled,
a smirk forming on my face.
"This is my chance."
I clenched my fists, my heart pounding with anticipation.
"(Lucas, you're not the only one with a game-changer. When I step on that court, I'll show you how we're going to win this game.)"
.........
The
Orlando Hoops
had the ball, and every single one of their players knew exactly what they had to do.
They had a
countermeasure.
Guy Corson, the
head coach of Orlando Hoops,
had seen enough. He stood by the sidelines, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he watched
Lucas Graves—the unknown variable—move across the court.
"(This Lucas Graves... what exactly is this kid?)"
he thought.
He had analyzed Lucas's plays carefully.
Lucas could mimic his players.
Not just copy them—but
enhance their skills, refine their techniques.
That was dangerous.
That was a problem.
"Shut him down,"
Corson had ordered during the timeout.
"Full defensive pressure on Graves. I don't care if someone else scores, but he doesn't touch the ball without a body on him."
And now, Orlando's starting five locked eyes with each other.
Alec Storm, Mason Hayes, Julian Cross, Ethan Blake, and Jaxon Wells.
They were locked in.
Determined. Focused. Ready.
This was the
Orlando Hoops.
A team that didn't just win—they
crushed
their opponents.
And
Lucas Graves was just another obstacle to remove.
....
[Lucas Graves POV]
I could feel it.
The pressure. The suffocating defense.
They weren't underestimating me anymore.
They were
locking me down.
Every time I moved, Alec Storm was there—his
footwork perfect, his body angled to cut me off.
If I tried to receive a pass, Mason Hayes
swarmed me, pushing me off my spot.
If I
drove to the basket,
Ethan Blake and Jaxon Wells were already there, waiting.
I gritted my teeth.
"I guess I'm almost at my limit."
Absolute Mimicry was strong—but it had its
costs.
My body was
screaming.
My
stamina was draining fast.
I was
faster than them. Smarter than them due to this power.
But in the end...
They had more experience. More chemistry. More skill.
I was
fighting alone.
And despite everything, despite the talent, the ability, the determination...
I still couldn't win.
.........
[Ethan Albarado POV]
I watched from the bench, my fingers gripping the hem of my jersey.
Lucas was losing steam.
His movements weren't as
sharp. His decision-making wasn't as crisp.
He was reaching his limit.
And then, it happened.
A
hard screen
by Julian Cross—Lucas didn't see it coming.
He slammed into it, his body
stumbling backward, gasping for breath.
The ball?
Stolen.
Fast break.
Dunk.
The crowd
exploded.
Orlando Hoops
roared.
And our coach?
That
fatass Fred Mason
was rubbing his temples, looking frustrated as he glanced at the bench.
I smirked.
"This is it."
Aiden White—
our small forward—was our next weak link.
He was
about to go down.
And when he did...
Fred Mason would have no choice but to put me in.
No I will make him....
To be continue