The night after the Gods' victory hung heavy over the world of basketball.

Social feeds overflowed with clips of divine plays, lightning-speed passes, impossible dunks, the glowing threads of Symbiosis Mode and commentators spoke as if humanity had already accepted defeat.

But in a small, dimly lit gym on the outskirts of Virginia, the sound of a single basketball echoed through the night.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Sweat dripped from Lucas Graves' chin, darkening the floorboards.

His breath came sharp, controlled but his eyes burned with the same stubborn light that had once made people call him sunshine.

Now that glow was tempered with steel.

He was alone.

The gym lights flickered slightly, the only sound the rhythmic bounce of the ball and the squeak of sneakers against the wood.

Lucas dribbled left fake right then leapt backward, spinning midair.

A flick of his wrist sent the ball arcing upward in a motion eerily similar to Chronos' signature temporal step, a shot that seemed to exist both in the present and the past.

The ball hit the rim, spun twice, and rolled out.

Lucas caught it again before it even hit the ground.

"Tsk…" he muttered, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm.

"It's not enough."

He bounced the ball again, harder this time.

"Even copying it even mimicking it frame for frame, it's still not the same."

He took a deep breath and reset his stance.

The Absolute Mimicry within him flared faintly, an aura of faint silver lines dancing across his skin, mapping trajectories, calculating muscle tension, adjusting microseconds of motion.

Every movement he'd ever seen replayed behind his eyes Ethan's sharp cuts, Chronos' time-bending layups, Zeus' divine posture, and Jalen's raw passion.

He mimicked Chronos again, a perfect crossover into a fadeaway jumper.

The ball sank cleanly this time.

"Closer…" he whispered.

"But still not enough."

He dropped the ball and sat on the floor, sweat pooling beneath him.

His expression softened, that old Lucas sunshine peeking through the exhaustion.

"I'll beat them," he said quietly, looking up at the rafters as if the Gods themselves were listening.

"I don't care if they're divine, immortal, or untouchable. I'll reach them… even if I have to burn everything I am."

A faint breeze blew through the open window, carrying the distant sound of cicadas.

Lucas closed his eyes.

Memories flickered, his bench days, the way everyone overlooked him, the words of that old man who'd given him Absolute Mimicry, he saw him again … last month… and the old man said…

"The gift to copy isn't the same as the power to surpass.

To surpass means to make something yours."

Lucas smiled faintly.

"Then I'll make it mine."

He stood up again, picked up the ball, and stared at his reflection in the gym mirror.

"I'm not Ethan Albarado," he said softly.

"I'm not Zeus. I'm not Chronos."

He spun the ball once on his finger.

"I'm Lucas Graves. And I love basketball!!."

His aura flared again, this time brighter, steadier.

The silver lines of Absolute Mimicry pulsed and shifted evolving, changing, adapting.

He wasn't just copying Chronos now.

He was integrating it fusing it with his own rhythm, his own timing, his own instinct.

The next shot exploded from his fingertips with impossible precision.

A perfect curve, a sharp echo and the ball swished through the net like a whisper of promise.

Lucas smirked, catching the rebound with his left hand.

"Guess I'll start with you, Zeus," he said under his breath.

"Let's see how a god handles a copy that refuses to break."

Outside, the moon shone pale over the empty parking lot.

Unseen to Lucas, a figure stood across the street, leaning against a lamppost, Cloud, his platinum hair catching the faint glow.

He watched in silence, unreadable expression fading into something dangerously close to affection… and fear.

He murmured quietly, almost to himself:

"Hoh… he is waking up too, huh? That'll make things… interesting."

And then, with a faint smirk, he vanished into the night air.

The night was quiet too quiet.

A faint breeze moved across the cracked asphalt of the old outdoor court behind Ethan's house.

No crowd. No lights. Just the soft, rhythmic bounce of a basketball echoing under the moon.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Each dribble sounded heavier than the last.

Not from fatigue but from thought.

From what he'd seen.

Jalen's body collapsing on the floor.

Zeus walking past him, eyes untouched by fatigue.

The scoreboard that burned into his mind like a scar

Then, Ethan stopped at the free-throw line.

He lifted the ball hands trembling slightly then shot.

The swish cut through the silence like a whisper of memory.

"…Too slow." he muttered.

He looked up and the faint blue shimmer of his system interface bloomed in front of him, floating like a hologram in the moonlight.

[System Notification]

Potential Path Unlocked…

Choose Your Path: Unlock One of the Advanced Routes

→ Apex Strategist

→ Phantom Commander

→ Flowbreaker

→ Clutch Creator

The glowing prompt pulsed slowly, as if waiting for his soul to answer.

Ethan exhaled.

His reflection shimmered in the interface tired eyes, sweat-slick hair, and a face caught between defeat and defiance.

"…What should I do…?"

His whisper echoed into the night.

Every name on that list represented a destiny.

A countermeasure to divinity.

He closed his eyes and his mind, he saw flashes:

Zeus bending reality through command.

Ares overwhelming through brute, divine rhythm.

Hades moving through shadow — patterns no human could read.

Poseidon's flow, unstoppable, endless, drowning everything in elegance.

Chronos' manipulation of tempo, stretching seconds like eternity.

Each God walked their own Path.

Each path bent the laws of basketball itself.

So, what could a mortal choose?

Ethan dribbled again, each bounce syncing with his heartbeat.

Thud-thud-thud.

He spoke softly between each breath, testing the names aloud.

"Apex Strategist…" — the mind of the game, prediction beyond instinct.

He could rewrite tempo, dictate play before it happened.

But strategy meant nothing if the opponent ignored logic, if they were the logic.

"Phantom Commander…" control through deception, through presence.

To move like a shadow that directed others.

But that wasn't him either. Ethan didn't want to command from afar.

"Flowbreaker…" a disruptor of divine rhythm, capable of cracking perfection mid-motion.

A counter to Poseidon's elegance and Zeus's control.

But it was reactive — always waiting for others to move first.

"Clutch Creator…", the one who rises when the world falls apart.

Those who redefine impossibility in the final moments.

He felt that one burn deeper than the rest.

He looked up at the moon.

It looked pale, distant almost mocking.

"...A human shouldn't be able to beat a god."

He smiled faintly, breath uneven.

"...But then again, a god's never fought someone who refused to break."

Each of them reflected something he could become.

But none of them felt like him.

Then something happened.

The system froze.

The air around him shimmered like the world itself was waiting.

A low hum filled his ears. The screen blurred, glitched, and then

A new line appeared.

[ Hidden Path Detected — Special Route Available ]

One for All (???):

The convergence of unity. The power that amplifies not through skill, but through

connection.

Each teammate's strength, will, and heart multiplied through you.

Ethan's eyes widened.

"...What the hell...?"

The glow turned brighter, washing over his face. His heartbeat synced with it, heavy, fast.

He read it again, slowly this time.

"Amplifies not through skill… but through connection."

He remembered Coach Jenkins' words.

"They can control rules. But not will."

He remembered Jalen, broken but unbowed.

Lucas, Louie, Ryan, Aiden, Josh, Brandon, Evan and the bench that never gave up.

His team.

And then it hit him.

"So this is it…" he whispered.

"Their talent makes them gods. But my team our will makes us human."

The system pulsed again. The screen vibrated.

Do you wish to unlock the Path: One for All?

[ YES ] / [ NO ]

Ethan smiled faintly, wiping the sweat from his jaw.

"Yeah."

He pressed YES.

The ground shivered.

Light burst from his chest like golden dust scattering into the night air, carried by the wind.

For a moment, he saw visions, the court, his teammates, their silhouettes glowing faintly.

Each one was connected by golden threads, like a living constellation.

His status flickered again.

[ PATH UNLOCKED — ONE FOR ALL ]

Effect: Synchronizes and amplifies the performance of allies within team link radius.

Each teammate's trust strengthens your stats.

Each shared heartbeat raises potential.

Each act of unity breaks divine balance.

Ethan breathed out, slow and calm, lowering his head.

The ball rolled gently to his foot.

He kicked it back up, caught it, and smirked.

"...So that's your move, Zeus?"

He spun the ball once.

"Fine. Then this'll be mine."

He took one final shot, a long, arcing three-pointer that cut through the dark.

Swish.

The sound echoed through the night.

Soft. Sharp. Defiant.

Ethan stared at the hoop, then at the system still faintly glowing beside him.

He whispered, steady and certain

"Vorpal won't just fight you."

"We'll unite and we'll take the throne."

To be continue

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