The buzzer sounded to end the break, but it felt less like a signal to play and more like a tolling bell. The score was 72-72. Ten minutes remained in the season. Ten minutes remained in their high school lives.
As the Dasmariñas High walked onto the court, Tristan Herrera felt a strange sensation. The electric, vibrating hum of the "Zone" that had consumed him in the third quarter had vanished. The red haze of the scorer's mentality was gone. In its place was a crystalline, panoramic clarity. His Skill Floor General badge wasn't humming; it was singing. He didn't see the rim anymore. He saw the chessboard. He saw the angles, the fatigue in Joco Palencia's legs, the desperate hunger in Marco's eyes.
"Tristan," Marco whispered as they lined up, his hands shaking slightly. "He's... he's looking at me. Palencia. He knows."
"Let him look," Tristan said, his voice calm, steady, and terrifyingly assured. "He's looking at you because he's worried about me. That's his mistake. Get to your spot, Marco. I'll find you."
Across the line, Joco Palencia was slapping his own cheeks, trying to wake himself up. He had played every second of the game. He had scored 39 points. He was the King of the Capital, but his crown was feeling incredibly heavy. He looked at his teammates—Lee, Quiambao, Lopez—and he saw fear. He didn't see help.
Fine, Joco thought, his eyes narrowing into slits. I'll do it myself. I always do.
Start of the Fourth Quarter: 72 — 72
Tristan took the inbound. Palencia picked him up full court, but the intensity was different. Joco was sitting back a half-step, protecting against the drive, respecting Tristan's scoring outburst from the third.
Perfect, Tristan thought.
He walked the ball up. He signaled "Fist."
Gab and Ian set a double screen at the top. Tristan drove hard right. Palencia fought over the screens, desperate to stop Tristan's pull-up. The QC center, Marcus Lee, stepped up to trap.
Two defenders on Tristan.
In the third quarter, Tristan would have split them and shot.
Not now.
Tristan jumped, looking at the rim, freezing the defense. In mid-air, he snapped a pass to the right wing.
Marco was waiting.
His defender, Padrigao, had cheated into the paint to help on Tristan. Marco was wide open.
Marco caught it. He rhythm-dribbled once.
Swish.
Score: Dasmariñas 75 — QC 72
"WELCOME TO THE SHOW!" Marco screamed, pointing at the QC bench.
Palencia demanded the ball. He brought it up. He saw Tristan guarding him.
"You passed?" Palencia sneered, breathing hard. "Scared to shoot now?"
"Just sharing the wealth," Tristan said.
Palencia drove. He used a hesitation move, got a step on Tristan. But Ian Veneracion was waiting in the paint.
Palencia, instead of kicking it out to his open corner shooter, tried to challenge the 6'6" Ian. He contorted his body, trying a reverse layup.
He was tired. He didn't get the lift.
The ball hit the bottom of the rim.
Ian grabbed the rebound. "GO!"
Tristan pushed the break. Palencia was jogging back, arguing with the ref for a foul.
It was 5-on-4.
Tristan drove middle. The defense collapsed. He kicked it to Daewoo in the corner. Daewoo pump-faked (the move he mastered), drove baseline, and drew the defense.
Daewoo kicked it out to the top of the key.
To Marco.
Marco caught it. He was feeling it.
He rose up. Deep three.
Swish.
Score: Dasmariñas 78 — QC 72
Two possessions. Two threes for Marco. The lead was six.
Joco Palencia was furious. He took the ball and waved everyone away. "ISO!"
He dribbled the clock down. 15... 14...
He danced on the perimeter. Tristan stayed home. Palencia hit a step-back three from 28 feet.
It was a heat check. It was a bad shot.
Clang. Front rim.
Gab Lagman boxed out Marcus Lee and ripped the rebound down.
Tristan slowed it down. He looked at Joco, who was hands-on-knees at half-court.
He's gassed, Tristan realized. The hero ball is killing him.
Tristan ran a pick-and-roll with Ian. He drove, drew the help, and threw a pocket pass to Ian.
Ian caught it, took one dribble, and was fouled hard by Marcus Lee.
Ian to the line. He hit 1 of 2.
Score: Dasmariñas 79 — QC 72
The next four minutes were a masterclass in contrasting styles.
Dasmariñas played team basketball. Tristan was the conductor. He didn't take a single shot. He drove, collapsed the defense, and found the open man.
Gab hit a short jumper. Dasmariñas 81 — QC 72.
Daewoo scored on a backdoor cut, fed by a beautiful Tristan bounce pass. Dasmariñas 83 — QC 74.
QC played "Joco-ball."
Palencia scored a tough layup. Dasmariñas 83 — QC 74.
Palencia missed a contested mid-range.
Palencia turned the ball over, trying to split a double team.
Palencia hit two free throws. Dasmariñas 83 — QC 76.
He was scoring, but it was agonizing. He was working so hard for every inch. His teammates—Quiambao, Lopez—were standing around, cold, disengaged, watching their leader try to win alone. They had stopped cutting. They had stopped believing the ball would come to them.
Score: Dasma 85 — QC 78.
Tristan had the ball. He saw Marco on the wing. Marco's defender was playing him tight now, terrified of the three.
Tristan signaled a back-door cut with his eyes.
Marco read it. He faked high, cut low.
Tristan threw a lob. A perfect, soft arc over the defense.
Marco caught it in the air and laid it in.
Score: Dasmariñas 87 — QC 78
The lead was nine. The QC crowd was silent. The Dasma section was deafening.
Palencia was desperate. He brought the ball up. He didn't even look at the defense. He just pulled up from 30 feet.
It was an airball.
The crowd gasped. The King had airballed.
Joco looked at his hands, betrayal in his eyes. He was human after all.
Tristan had the ball. He could feel the championship. It was right there.
He ran the clock. 10... 9...
He drove. He got into the paint. He faked a shot. The defense jumped.
Tristan pivoted. He saw Gab Lagman standing at the free-throw line.
He passed.
Gab, the defensive specialist, the grinder, took the open shot.
Brick. It hit the side of the rim.
But Ian Veneracion was there. He muscled Marcus Lee out of the way, grabbed the offensive board, and put it back up.
Swish.
Score: Dasmariñas 89 — QC 78
Eleven points. Two minutes.
Joco Palencia refused to die. He took the ball, drove down the lane like a maniac, and dunked on Ian. A violent, angry slam.
Dasmariñas 89 — QC 80.
He stole the inbound pass from Daewoo.
He stepped back to the corner. Three-pointer.
Swish.
Dasmariñas 89 — QC 83.
Five points in ten seconds.
"TIMEOUT DASMARIÑAS!" Coach Gutierrez screamed.
In the huddle, the panic was trying to set in. The 11-point lead was now 6. Joco had woken up.
"He's not done!" Marco yelled, pacing. "He's a zombie! You kill him and he comes back!"
"Calm down," Tristan said. His voice was ice water.
He looked at Marco. "You want to be the Dagger? Be the Dagger. I'm coming to you."
He looked at Daewoo. "Don't turn it over. Just get it to me."
He looked at the coach. "We're winning this."
They broke the press. Tristan got the ball.
He slowed it down. He saw Palencia guarding him. Palencia's eyes were wild, desperate.
"You're going to choke," Palencia rasped. "You're a nobody."
Tristan didn't speak. He called for a screen.
He drove right. Palencia cut him off.
Tristan spun back. He saw Marco on the wing.
He passed.
Marco caught it. He pump-faked. His defender flew by.
Marco took one dribble in. A 15-footer.
Swish.
Score: Dasmariñas 91 — QC 83
"That's my guy!" Tristan pointed.
Palencia came down. He tried to drive. Gab Lagman stepped in.
Collision.
Palencia bounced off Gab. He threw up a wild shot.
It went in. And-one.
He hit the free throw.
Dasmariñas 91 — QC 86.
Tristan brought it up. The pressure was suffocating.
He needed a bucket to seal it.
He saw the lane open. He drove. Marcus Lee stepped up.
Tristan had the layup. He could take it. He could be the hero.
But he saw Ian, sealed on the block.
Tristan dropped it off.
Ian went up... and fumbled the pass. The ball rolled out of bounds.
Turnover.
"My bad!" Ian screamed, hitting his head.
Palencia took the ball. 5-point game.
He came down and hit a three from the top of the key. No conscience.
Swish.
Score: Dasmariñas 91 — QC 89
Two points. Fifty seconds.
Tristan took the ball. His heart was hammering, but his mind was clear.
Don't panic.
He dribbled the clock down. 20... 15...
Palencia was reaching, swiping.
Tristan crossed over. Ankle Breaker.
Palencia stumbled, but recovered.
10... 9...
Tristan drove. He drew the defense.
He kicked it to Marco in the corner.
Marco caught it. 5 seconds on the shot clock.
He was covered. He couldn't shoot.
Marco drove baseline. He was trapped under the basket.
He jumped. He had nowhere to go.
In the air, he saw Tristan at the top of the key.
Marco threw a desperate pass back out.
Tristan caught it.
2 seconds on the shot clock.
He was 25 feet out.
Palencia was flying at him.
Tristan didn't think. He reacted.
He pump-faked. Palencia flew past him.
Tristan took one side-step to the right.
0.5 seconds on the shot clock.
He released the three.
The buzzer sounded for the shot clock violation.
But the ball was already in the air.
The buzzer sounded.
...
...
Swish.
Score: Dasmariñas 94 — QC 89
The Dagger. From the General.
The Dasma crowd went absolutely nuclear.
Palencia got the ball. He knew it was over. But he tried anyway.
He sprinted down. He jacked up a three.
Brick.
Ian Veneracion grabbed the rebound.
He held it tight. He curled around it like a baby.
QC fouled him.
0:08 seconds left.
Ian went to the line.
"MVP! MVP!" the small Dasma crowd chanted, but they were chanting at Tristan.
Ian hit the first.
Dasmariñas 95 — QC 89.
He missed the second.
Palencia got the rebound. He didn't run. He dribbled slowly to half court.
He stopped.
He looked at the scoreboard.
Dasmariñas 95 — QC 89.
He looked at Tristan.
Joco Palencia, the God of QC, the unbeaten King... dropped the ball.
He let it roll away.
He didn't shoot. He surrendered.
Final Score: Dasmariñas National High 95 — Quezon City High 89
The final buzzer sounded.
It wasn't a sound. It was the end of a world.
Tristan Herrera fell to his knees at center court. He put his hands on his face.
He felt hands grabbing him. Lifting him.
"WE DID IT! WE DID IT!"
It was Marco. He was crying, laughing, screaming.
Daewoo was hugging Gab. Ian was holding Cedrick.
The bench cleared. The coaches ran onto the floor.
Coach Gutierrez grabbed Tristan and pulled him into a bear hug that knocked the wind out of him. "You did it, Captain! You led them!"
Tristan looked up. The confetti hadn't fallen yet, but the world was spinning.
He looked to the stands.
Aiden Robinson was there. He was standing on his one good leg, leaning over the railing, his face a mask of pure, beautiful, tear-streaked joy. He was saluting Tristan.
Tristan saluted back. Promise kept.
Suddenly, the crowd parted.
Joco Palencia walked through the celebration. His jersey was untucked. He looked destroyed.
He stopped in front of Tristan.
The arena went quiet for a moment.
Palencia looked at Tristan. He looked at the scoreboard.
"You passed," Palencia said, his voice hollow. "In the fourth... you just... kept passing."
"I trust my team," Tristan said.
Palencia looked at his own teammates, who were walking off the court, heads down. He looked back at Tristan. A flicker of realization crossed his face.
"Yeah," Palencia whispered. "I guess you do."
He extended his hand. "Good game, General. You earned it."
Tristan shook it. "Good game, King."
Then, the ceremony began.
The announcer's voice boomed.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! YOUR 2015 PALARONG PAMBANSA CHAMPIONS! FROM REGION 4A! THE DASMARIÑAS National High!"
The trophy was brought out. A massive, gold cup.
They handed it to Coach Gutierrez.
Coach Gutierrez handed it immediately to Tristan.
Tristan held it. It was heavy. It was cold. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He looked at his team.
"Together!" he yelled.
They all grabbed a piece of it. Marco, Gab, Ian, Cedrick, Daewoo... and they pulled Aiden down from the stands to hold it too.
They lifted it to the sky.
The flashbulbs popped. The crowd roared.
Then, the announcer spoke again.
"AND NOW! THE FINALS MVP!"
The drumroll played.
"FOR A PERFORMANCE OF LEADERSHIP, SCORING, AND PLAYMAKING! WITH 28 POINTS, 12 ASSISTS, AND 5 STEALS! THE CAPTAIN! TRISTAN HERRERA!"
Tristan felt Marco shove him forward. He accepted the small trophy. He held it up.
But as he stood there, amidst the cheers, a sound rang in his head. A sound only he could hear.
DING.
[MISSION 13: WIN PALARONG PAMBANSA] - COMPLETED.
[REWARDS UNLOCKED]
[+50 Physical Stat Points]
[+100 Attribute Points]
[3x Silver Upgrade Badge]
[2x Gold Upgrade Badge]
[CONGRATULATIONS. YOU HAVE CONQUERED THE NATIONAL STAGE.]
[SYSTEM UPDATE INITIATED...]
[PREPARING NEXT CHAPTER...]
Tristan smiled.
He looked at the trophy in his hand. He looked at his friends. He looked at Aiden. He looked at Claire, who he knew was watching on TV, probably screaming her lungs out.
The High School Chapter was over.
The System was updating.
The General had won the war.
But as he looked at the flashing message about the Next Chapter... he knew.
The real game was just beginning.