Chapter 16: Coonie’s Ability?
[3rd Quarter – 3 Minutes Remaining]
[Orlando Hoops – 71
Vorpal Basket – 54]
The crowd buzzed with confusion.
People whispered, murmuring among themselves as they saw Evan Cooper and Lucas Graves walking toward the bench.
Instead, three bench players stepped onto the court.
Coonie Smith. Jeremy Park. Kai Mendoza.
But Brandon Young, the team's center, stayed in.
They didn't have another true center on the bench.
If Brandon sat, the paint would be completely unguarded.
Then Orlando Hoops' starters blinked, their expressions shifting from focused to surprised.
Alec Storm scoffed.
"What the hell? They're giving up?"
Mason Hayes smirked.
"That's what it looks like."
Julian Cross chuckled, shaking his head.
"Pathetic."
Even Coach Guy Corson, who had been fully locked in, narrowed his eyes.
"(They're subbing out their starters? What is this…?)"
He studied the three new players on the court.
They didn't look special.
No insane physique. No intimidating presence.
Just benchwarmers.
He exhaled sharply.
"Tch. Stick to the plan."
"YES, COACH!" Orlando Hoops shouted in unison.
They weren't about to let up.
Not now.
Not ever.
...
[Vorpal Basket's Side]
Ethan Albarado stood in the middle of his new lineup, rolling his shoulders as he turned to them.
Coonie Smith cracked his knuckles.
Jeremy Park adjusted his headband.
Kai Mendoza bounced on his feet, shaking off the nerves.
Brandon Young clenched his fists, already preparing himself for a battle in the paint.
Ethan's blue eyes sharpened.
"LISTEN UP."
Coonie, Jeremy, and Kai immediately snapped to attention.
Brandon, still sweating from the previous plays, nodded slightly.
Ethan's voice was low. Firm. Unshakable.
"This is not about scoring."
Coonie blinked. "What?"
Ethan's gaze hardened.
"We're not here to win this quarter. We're here to buy time."
Kai nodded slowly. "You mean… to keep the game within reach?"
Ethan smirked.
"EXACTLY."
His eyes flickered toward the Orlando Hoops players, who were already waiting for the inbound.
"All we need to do is slow them down."
Jeremy frowned. "We're not strong enough."
Ethan's smirk widened.
"That's why I boosted you."
Coonie's eyes widened. "Huh?"
Ethan mentally activated his system screen.
A soft ding echoed in his head.
…..
[ACTIVE BOOSTS]
TEAM SYNERGY (+1 TO ALL ATTRIBUTES FOR 10 MINUTES)DEFENSE BOOST (+2 TO DEFENSE FOR 5 MINUTES – COONIE, JEREMY, KAI, BRANDON)SHOOTING ACCURACY BOOST (+3 TO SHOOTING FOR 5 MINUTES – COONIE)
.....
Ethan grinned.
"You guys are better than you think."
Coonie's fists clenched.
Jeremy's breathing steadied.
Kai smirked.
Brandon, still standing near the free-throw line, cracked his knuckles.
"ALRIGHT, THEN. LET'S MAKE SOME NOISE."
…..
[3rd Quarter – 2:58 Remaining]
The whistle blew.
Orlando Hoops had possession.
Alec Storm dribbled up the court, his usual cocky smirk still present.
Then—he saw Coonie Smith.
Standing in front of him.
Not Evan Cooper. Not Lucas Graves.
Coonie.
Alec let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
"You're guardiang me?"
Coonie swallowed hard.
His stance was low, his arms wide, but—his feet felt heavy.
His breathing? Already uneven.
He wasn't used to guarding someone like Alec.
Alec wasn't just fast.
He was elite.
And Coonie?
He was a benchwarmer.
Still, he refused to back down.
Alec snorted.
"Alright then. Let's see how long you last."
Then—he attacked.
A sharp crossover.
A hard drive.
Coonie tried to react, shifting his weight—
But Alec was too fast.
His feet dragged behind half a second too slow.
Alec surged forward, already getting past him—
Jeremy Park rotated in, stepping into the lane.
Alec clicked his tongue.
"(TWO ON ME?)"
Jeremy's defense wasn't perfect.
His reaction was a little late.
His footwork was a little sloppy.
But it was just enough to slow Alec down.
Just enough to make him rethink his move.
Alec looked up.
Mason Hayes—wide open.
He passed—
Kai Mendoza jumped the passing lane.
Alec's eyes widened.
STEAL.
"FAST BREAK!" Ethan yelled.
Kai took off.
But—his dribble was shaky.
The ball nearly bounced too high on his second step.
He barely held on.
His body felt slow.
Orlando's defense caught up immediately.
They were closing in.
"KAI, PASS!"
Kai panicked.
His eyes flicked to Ethan.
His heart pounded.
His hands—moved instinctively.
He flicked the ball toward Ethan without hesitation.
A simple pass.
Not perfect.
Not fast.
But just enough to reach.
Kai's breath came out ragged.
"(Did I almost screw that up?)"
His hands were shaking.
His movements felt off.
He wasn't playing like a star.
He was playing like what he was.
A bench player.
Across the court, Coonie's knees felt weak.
His arms burned from just one defensive possession.
He had barely been able to keep up.
He wasn't stopping Alec.
He was just slowing him down.
Just delaying the inevitable.
Coonie gritted his teeth.
"(DAMN IT… They're just too good…)"
But then—
He saw Ethan's smirk.
That damn smirk.
Like he had planned this.
Like he knew this would happen.
Coonie clicked his tongue.
"(TCH… I GET IT NOW.)"
Ethan didn't put them in to dominate.
He didn't expect them to carry.
He just needed them to buy time.
Coonie's breathing was rough, but—he stayed locked in.
They weren't winning this quarter.
But they just had to survive it.
Three more minutes.
That was all.
…..
[3rd Quarter – 2:00 Remaining]
Coonie's breath was ragged.
His chest heaved, his legs felt like lead, and his arms? Shaking.
But despite everything—they were still in it.
Not winning.
Not dominating.
But surviving.
He glanced up at the scoreboard, wiping the sweat from his brow.
[Orlando Hoops – 73]
[Vorpal Basket – 56]
Still down big.
Still getting outplayed.
But—this wasn't the massacre he expected.
They weren't completely getting crushed.
They weren't collapsing.
They were hanging on.
Coonie exhaled sharply, his mind racing.
"(We're keeping up… but how?)"
It didn't make sense.
He wasn't this good.
Kai Mendoza wasn't this fast.
Jeremy Park wasn't this solid in the paint.
They were benchwarmers.
Not starters.
Not elite players.
And yet—they were holding their own.
Coonie narrowed his eyes.
Something felt off.
Not in a bad way.
But… in a way that didn't feel natural
He stole a glance at Ethan Albarado.
Ethan stood near half-court, watching everything unfold.
Composed.
Calm.
And that damn smirk still on his face.
"(Did… he do something?)"
Coonie's grip tightened on his jersey.
He knew himself.
He knew he wasn't playing this well.
So what the hell changed?
His eyes flicked to Kai Mendoza.
The guy was moving faster than usual.
Not insanely fast.
Not star-player quick.
But just enough.
Kai wasn't beating his defenders, but he was keeping up.
He was contesting shots.
Reading plays just a little bit faster.
Jeremy Park—normally outmuscled in the paint—wasn't winning rebounds.
But he was boxing out harder.
Jumping a little bit higher.
Coonie clenched his jaw.
"(Nah… that's stupid, Coonie. That's not how this works)"
A coach's speech?
Some dramatic pep talk?
That wasn't enough to suddenly make a bench player perform like this.
There was something else.
Something Ethan had done.
Coonie wasn't sure what.
But one thing was clear—
They just had to hold on.
Two more minutes.
....
Ethan Albarado exhaled sharply, watching his teammates struggle to keep up.
It wasn't pretty.
Coonie, Kai, and Jeremy?
They were barely hanging on.
They weren't beating the Orlando starters.
But they weren't collapsing, either.
Ethan wiped the sweat from his forehead and narrowed his eyes.
"(As expected, the card helped them keep up a little bit… But that's that…)"
He glanced at the Orlando players.
Alec Storm.
Mason Hayes.
Julian Cross.
Jaxon Wells.
Ethan Blake.
They were monsters.
They weren't just talented.
They were well-trained.
Disciplined.
Refined.
"(These guys trained their whole lives for this.)"
Basketball wasn't just a game to them.
It was a lifestyle
A career.
A future.
And Vorpal Basket?
What did they have?
Nothing.
Ethan clenched his fists.
"(Thanks to our fucking coach, our team doesn't even have a motivation to train.)"
It was obvious.
Who the hell would train their ass off when they lost every game?
When their coach didn't care?
When their system was built for failure?
Ethan gritted his teeth.
"(No one believes in us.)"
They were benchwarmers.
Losers.
Nobodies.
And yet—
Right now…
They were still here.
Still fighting.
Ethan's gaze shifted to Coonie.
Despite his heavy breathing, despite the exhaustion in his eyes—
He wasn't backing down.
And then—
A system notification popped up.
[SYSTEM DETECTED HIDDEN ABILITY]
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"(HUH?)"
The translucent blue window flickered in front of him.
[Clutch Instinct] (Locked Ability)
Description:
A latent skill that awakens when Coonie Smith is placed in a high-stakes moment. Under intense pressure, his mind sharpens, and his body reacts instinctively, allowing him to perform beyond his usual capabilities.
Ethan's eyes widened slightly.
"(HOH…)"
A hidden talent?
Coonie had something like this?
Ethan glanced at him again.
He looked dead tired.
But his stance?
Still solid.
His eyes?
Still locked in.
Ethan smirked.
"(This guy… If he hone this skill…)"
"(He could be a damn problem on the court.)"
Maybe not now.
Maybe not even this game.
But if Coonie pushed himself—if he learned how to awaken this ability on command—
He could turn into a player no one expected.
Ethan stretched his fingers, letting out a deep sigh.
He already knew what was coming next.
"(Orlando's coach is smart. He's probably going to sub out the starters now.)"
These guys weren't machines.
They weren't going to waste energy if they didn't need to.
And Vorpal's bench?
They weren't good enough to warrant keeping Orlando's best players on the court.
Coach Corson wasn't stupid.
He was going to give his starters a break.
Which meant—
Vorpal had a tiny window.
A chance to steal some momentum back.
Ethan grinned.
"(Well then… Let's see what we can do with it.)"
....
[3rd Quarter – 1:20 Remaining]
[Score Update:]
Orlando Hoops – 74
Vorpal Basket – 58
Coach Guy Corson stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, his sharp eyes locked onto the court.
His starting five—Alec Storm, Mason Hayes, Julian Cross, Ethan Blake, and Jaxon Wells—were still playing with intensity.
But he wasn't blind.
He could see it.
The exhaustion creeping in.
Jaxon's movements weren't as explosive.
Mason's footwork was slightly slower.
Alec's reactions were just a little delayed.
They had been running the entire quarter at full intensity.
And Vorpal Basket?
They were still fighting.
Coach Corson clenched his jaw.
"(My team is exhausted. At this rate, they can't handle half a minute of the 4TH quarter if this continues.)"
His fingers tapped against his arm.
It was time.
He raised his hand toward the score table.
"SUBS! FIVE IN, FIVE OUT!"
The referee blew the whistle.
The entire gym went silent for a second.
Then—murmurs.
"What? He's subbing all of them?"
"Alec's going to the bench? Even Jaxon?"
"Wait—why now?"
Ethan Albarado's eyes narrowed.
He saw Alec Storm glance toward the bench, frustration flashing in his eyes.
Alec hated sitting out.
But he wasn't stupid.
He knew Corson was making the right call.
Jaxon Wells, the dominant center, took a deep breath as he walked toward the bench.
He wiped sweat from his forehead, his massive frame still radiating intensity.
As he passed Ethan, he muttered—
"Don't think this sh*t is over."
Ethan smirked.
"Never did."
Lucas Graves, standing nearby, exhaled sharply.
"They're resting their main five…"
Evan Cooper cracked his knuckles.
"Albarado knows what his doing."
Coach Corson turned toward his second unit—the backup squad.
They weren't as strong.
But they knew their job.
Hold the lead. Control the pace. Run the clock.
Corson's eyes hardened.
"(Even if they close the gap a little, as long as my starters rest, we'll crush them in the fourth.)"
He watched as his backups jogged onto the floor.
And across from them—
Ethan Albarado was grinning.
"(THIS… THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED.)"
To be continue