Chapter 22: Lucas The Copy Cat  

6:00 – 4th Quarter

Orlando Hoops – 87

Vorpal Basket – 76

The air was tense.

The gym roared with noise, but to Alec Storm—everything was silent.

All he could hear was the pounding of the ball against the hardwood.

Dribble. Dribble. Dribble.

He glanced at the scoreboard.

"Tsk." His tongue clicked in frustration.

Vorpal was closing in.

They had momentum.

And standing in front of him, crouched low in a defensive stance—

Was Lucas Graves.

Alec's eyes narrowed.

(This damn copycat again.)

He had faced many defenders.

Strong ones. Quick ones. Tall ones.

But Lucas?

Lucas was different.

He didn't just defend.

He stole your moves.

Your rhythm.

Your skills.

Alec bounced the ball harder, locking eyes with Lucas.

Then, his gaze flickered to the side.

Across the court, he saw Ethan Albarado.

Standing there.

Observing.

Not just watching—analyzing.

Alec's brow furrowed.

(That bastard… he's the one behind all this.)

This defense.

This pressure.

This suffocating feeling.

It wasn't an accident.

It was a trap.

Alec took a slow breath and grinned.

"Even if you're a copycat…"

He switched to his right hand, flicking the ball between his legs—

"You still can't beat me!"

Lucas' eyes sharpened.

Alec exploded forward.

The battle had begun.

Alec Storm dribbled the ball at the top of the key.

The crowd buzzed with excitement.

Lucas Graves stood in front of him, crouched low, arms wide, yellow eyes locked onto the ball.

Alec's grin widened.

(Let's see if you can copy this, "Mimic.")

He jab-stepped left, shifting his weight aggressively—then snapped the ball to his right with a quick crossover.

Lucas reacted instantly, sliding his feet to cut off Alec's drive—

But it was a feint.

Alec planted his right foot and slammed the ball back between his legs, shifting direction effortlessly.

Lucas didn't bite.

He stayed on Alec's hip, reading his movements.

Alec's grin faltered.

(Tch. He's learning too fast.)

Alec suddenly whipped the ball behind his back, switching hands to break free—

But Lucas mirrored him perfectly.

Alec's eyes widened in shock.

(He copied my rhythm?!)

Lucas' footwork matched Alec's, and before Alec could break away, Lucas reached in—

Alec spun.

A full 360-degree spin move, keeping his body between Lucas and the ball.

Lucas lunged…but Alec was already gone.

The spin sent him forward, straight into the paint.

Big mistake.

Ethan Albarado was waiting.

Alec saw him too late.

Ethan read the play perfectly.

The moment Alec drove in, Ethan's body was already in motion.

Alec jumped, ready to finish—

Ethan rose with him.

Alec twisted in midair, hanging for a split second…then whipped the ball back out with an overhead pass.

The ball sailed over Ethan's fingertips and landed in his teammate's hands.

Wide open three.

Swish.

The net barely moved as the ball splashed through.

90 – 76.

Alec landed, staring down Lucas and Ethan.

Lucas clenched his fists.

Ethan's eyes darkened.

The battle wasn't over.

…

6:00

Orlando Hoops – 90

Vorpal Basket – 76

Brandon inbounded the ball with a crisp chest pass.

Lucas caught it smoothly, fingers gripping the leather as he scanned the court. His gaze flicked to Evan.

Evan gave a small nod.

Lucas nodded back.

Then, he took off.

Alec was already in front of him, smirking.

"What now, copycat?"

Lucas didn't answer. Instead, he let his dribble do the talking.

Once.

Twice.

Then—he exploded forward.

Alec's smirk disappeared as Lucas launched past him with a quick first step. Alec shifted back, reacting fast—

But Lucas was already switching it up.

Crossover.

The ball snapped from his right hand to his left.

Alec adjusted, mirroring him—

But it was a fake.

(In & Out move.)

The ball never left Lucas's left hand.

Alec bit on the fake, lunging right.

Too late.

Lucas was already sliding left, momentum carrying him past Alec.

(Damn it! He's not just copying—he's improving it!)

Alec scrambled to recover, but Lucas was completely in control.

Between the legs.

Alec stayed close—

But Lucas immediately went behind the back.

Alec reacted…too slow.

Then…a spin move.

Not just any spin move.

Alec's spin move.

Alec's eyes widened.

(No way—he copied it perfectly?!)

Lucas slipped past him into the paint.

A defender rushed up, arms raised to contest.

Lucas barely hesitated—

A sharp chest pass.

The ball rocketed to the elbow—straight into Ethan's hands.

One dribble.

Pull-up jumper.

Splash.

90 – 78.

Lucas turned back to Alec, his yellow eyes flashing with confidence.

A smirk crept onto his lips.

"Not bad, huh?"

Alec clenched his jaw.

...….

Ethan side]

Ethan watched Lucas and Alec face off, his arms crossed as he observed the intense back-and-forth.

His mind raced.

"(Oho… This is new. In Turning Point, Lucas and Alec never went one-on-one like this. They barely even clashed directly. But now… this? This is all because of me.)"

He smirked slightly.

"(I was the one who forced Lucas to guard Alec. In the novel, Lucas exhausted himself in the fourth quarter, and that's why they lost by fifteen points. That loss was his turning point—he vowed to never be defeated again.)"

Ethan's fingers tapped against his arm.

"(But even if I've changed things… Lucas will still become stronger. He has to. And, well—he's the protagonist of this world. A protagonist will always grow stronger, no matter what.)"

His blue eyes gleamed.

"(And if I can push him even further… we might just win this game.)"

...

Alec gripped the ball tightly as he walked up the court. His usual smirk was gone.

Lucas was still in front of him, staring him down.

Alec exhaled sharply. (Tch. This bastard... He's actually keeping up with me.)

He dribbled.

Once.

Twice.

Then…he struck.

Crossover.

Lucas reacted immediately, shifting his stance—

Between the legs.

Lucas stayed in front, his eyes reading Alec's every movement.

Alec's frustration flared. (Damn it. He's mirroring me too well.)

But he wasn't done yet.

Behind the back.

Lucas followed…perfectly.

Alec scowled. He hated to admit it, but Lucas wasn't just copying.

He was adapting.

(Fine, let's see if you can handle this.)

Alec took a hard step forward, planting his foot.

Then—he spun.

Lucas anticipated it.

He shifted his weight, about to mirror Alec's move again—

But it was a fake.

Alec stopped mid-spin, shifting back the other way.

Lucas' eyes widened…(Shit!)

Alec blew past him.

One step—two steps—into the paint.

The defense collapsed.

Alec grinned. (Gotcha.)

Bounce pass!

The ball zipped through the gap, landing perfectly in his teammate's hands.

Layup.

Swish.

92 – 78.

Alec turned back to Lucas, smirking.

"You're good, but I'm better."

Lucas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His yellow eyes burned with determination.

(So he still has tricks up his sleeve, huh? Then I'll just have to mimic and improve those, too.)

…

The ball left Ethan's hands in a clean inbound pass to Evan. As Evan caught it, his gaze swept across the court, analyzing the situation. But it didn't take long to realize what was happening.

Lucas and Alec…locked in an intense one-on-one.

Evan furrowed his brows. "What should we do? Looks like Lucas and Alec are just straight-up going at it."

Ethan, however, didn't even glance at him. His eyes were glued to the two players in front of him, his expression calm almost amused.

"Let them be…"

Evan hesitated. Normally, letting two players go all-out in a game like this would be reckless, but Ethan said it with such certainty, as if he already knew how it would play out.

Ethan's gaze sharpened as he watched Lucas. (In the end, Lucas will beat him.)

It wasn't just blind faith….it was a fact.

Ethan knew the truth about this world. About Lucas. About the novel, Turning Point.

In the original story, Lucas had exhausted himself in the fourth quarter, unable to keep up against Alec's relentless offense. The game had ended in a 15-point loss. That loss had become Lucas's fuel, the very thing that pushed him to become stronger—to never taste defeat again.

But things were different now. Ethan had changed the script.

(Lucas will still become stronger… but this time, he'll win. Because I'll make sure of it. That Pill, That stamina pill will be his turning point)

Well… Lucas wasn't just any player. He had Absolute Mimicry... the ability to copy and improve any move he saw. But it wasn't just his ability that made him dangerous.

It was his mentality.

Ethan's smirk widened slightly. (His mental toughness is like Kobe's—never give up, never surrender. He loves basketball more than anyone, and that's why he'll win.)

Lucas had the heart of a champion. And no matter what, a protagonist always finds a way.

Ethan crossed his arms and exhaled, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

(I'm sure of it.)

...….

"Pass it to Lucas," Ethan said, his voice steady, his eyes sharp.

Evan hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He whipped a crisp pass toward Lucas, who caught it effortlessly.

The ball barely settled in his hands before he was moving.

Lucas dribbled up the court, his focus locked onto Alec like a predator eyeing its prey. The ball bounced rhythmically against the hardwood, but his mind was already five steps ahead, mapping every possible scenario before it unfolded.

Alec crouched low, his muscles coiled like a spring. His eyes burned with challenge. "You think you can copy it?" he taunted, his voice laced with confidence.

Lucas didn't respond. Instead—he hesitated.

Just for a fraction of a second.

It was barely noticeable. A subtle shift forward, a slight freeze in motion.

But Alec noticed.

And Alec reacted.

His muscles tensed, his balance slightly thrown off.

Hesitation Dribble.

Lucas's body leaned forward ever so slightly, making it seem like he was about to explode past Alec. It was just a small pause—just enough to make Alec second-guess his footing.

And in that tiny window of hesitation…Lucas struck.

He exploded forward, accelerating past Alec in an instant, like a bullet fired from a gun.

Alec cursed under his breath, pivoting to recover, but Lucas was already in the paint.

The defense collapsed.

A help defender rushed forward, trying to cut off Lucas's drive. The paint was too crowded. The shot wasn't there.

Lucas didn't panic. He didn't need to.

No-Look Pass.

Without even glancing, Lucas flicked the ball behind his back. The motion was smooth, almost effortless. The ball sailed straight toward the perimeter, right into Ethan's hands.

It was clean.

It was fast.

It was almost perfect.

But not quite.

Ethan caught it easily, his sharp blue eyes analyzing the pass in an instant.

(He copied me, huh? But… something's missing.)

The pass had all the right mechanics. The movement, the timing—it was nearly identical to Ethan's own No-Look Pass. But that was the problem.

It was just a copy. 

What Ethan had wasn't just a flashy move, it was precision. His system-enhanced skills made his passes razor-sharp, always hitting the perfect spot at the perfect time. A pass that not only reached his teammate but gave them the best advantage to score.

Lucas's pass was good. But Ethan's pass was unstoppable.

Ethan grinned.

Without wasting a second, he took a single step forward, pulled up, and released a smooth jumper.

Splash.

The ball swished through the net without even grazing the rim.

92 – 80.

The crowd roared.

Lucas turned toward Ethan, his yellow eyes narrowing slightly. He could feel it…something was off.

His No-Look Pass was clean. It was accurate. But it wasn't as good.

His Absolute Mimicry allowed him to copy any technique perfectly. Yet, he couldn't surpass it.

Ethan simply grinned at him. "Not bad, but you still got a ways to go."

Lucas clenched his jaw. He knew he could refine what he copied. He could improve it, tweak it, make it his own.

But…

(I can't surpass him?)

For the first time, Lucas felt it.

Even though he could copy Ethan's moves, Ethan had something that couldn't be imitated.

Something beyond Absolute Mimicry.

To be continue