The sound of the basketball bouncing against the wooden floor was loud to Melmarc’s ears even in the loud cheers that came with their victory. They’d played a fifteen minutes game, and his team had ended up winning by more than ten points. It had been an interesting game to play.

  They’d locked down their opponents, figuring out how their skills worked early enough. The boy who could shoot from anywhere had only succeeded in three shots before he’d started missing. They weren’t certain of it, but copying the skill had taught Melmarc about it, revealing its shortcomings.

  It was interesting because he’d never thought about how copying a skill could help him defeat the wielder of the skill, he had only ever taught about how to use the skill. The boy’s skill [Take it There] was designed in a way that if you were distracted well enough, you would lose your precision and if an external force acted upon you, the same thing could happen.

  He’d told Ark about it, and Ark had ended up disrupting the boy in one way or the other every single time with eruptions of fire or anything he could do. When Ark had spread the information to other members of the team, serving the role of the person who had actually figured it out, the boy was done.

  The girl who had the ability to appear where she was not supposed to be could only use the skill for a certain period of time before she needed to rest, coupled with the one minute cool down, they had done a lot of false passes to draw her out.

  All in all, their victory had been overwhelming, Melmarc hadn’t even needed to use [Knowledge is Power] too many times.

  Mrs. Southfire blew her whistle, signaling the end of the game. She watched the elation on the faces of Melmarc’s teammates and the discomfort on the faces of the others. She had an entertained smile on her face, like a mother who was watching her children have fun.

  After a while, she shook her head, still smiling, and walked onto the court.

  “Alright, alright,” she announced, gathering everyone’s attention to her. “You all played a good game. Team Justice, I noticed how you didn’t even use your sub once.”

  The sixth and last member of the team, the boy named Ezekiel, stood outside. Arms folded, he had watched the entire game in silence.

  Melmarc had completely forgotten about the boy through the entire game. Now, he was feeling a little bad for the boy.

  Justice scratched the back of his neck in a display of nervous awkwardness. “We were playing so well, I didn’t want to disrupt the synergy,” he muttered, knowing that while the answer was true, it was wrong.

  Mrs. Southfire was already shaking her head. “That was wrong of you. If your dream is to become a Delver, you may one day lead your team. Your job is to ensure that every team member gets a chance at becoming a Delver. You don’t leave a teammate out unless they are a risk to the team.”

  Melmarc raised his hand quickly. Ark moved to stop him but failed.

  “I’ll sub out for him,” Melmarc declared. “I can always come back in if someone gets tired.”

  Justice didn’t seem very bothered by it. In fact, he didn’t really seem to care.

  Isabella who’d displayed skills that allowed her to appear from people’s blind spots patted him on the shoulder, shaking her head.

  “Nah,” she said, sounding out of breath. “You’ve still got enough energy. I’ll go out, I can already feel the mana fatigue starting to kick in.”

  Benny nodded in agreement. “And you’re really good at three pointers. That cross court shot was epic.”

  He sounded very excited.

  Unlike the owner of the skill, Melmarc had only performed two cross court shots before losing the skill for another.

  “Think you’ve got another cross court shot in you, Melmarc Lockwood?” Mrs. Southfire said with a smile.

  Melmarc shook his head. “Don’t want to go pushing luck.”

  “That’s a good decision to make. Always know how not to go too far.”

  Melmarc nodded in agreement. Another thing that the game of basketball had taught him was that [Extended Kindness] worked every time, resetting the skill it gave him. Right now, he had two skills, and none of them was the World skill that he had gotten from Mrs. Southfire.

  “Okay, everyone,” she announced when the defeated team cleared the court. “The next team is up.”

  Diret, the captain of the combat team, swaggered unto the court with his teammates in tow. “Remember, guys,” he told them with a bright smile, “we’re just hear to have fun today. Tomorrow is when the training really begins.”

  Melmarc recognized one of the boys on the team. He had been the boy at the reception table for Grace Hall when he and Ark had resumed. Catching Melmarc’s attention on him, he tipped an imaginary hat at him in a show of acknowledgement.

  “Hey, guys.” Clarissa gestured for them to bring it in. “Diret’s on the basketball team.”

  Ark nodded. “That means that he’ll be a good challenge.”

  “He’s not just on the basketball team,” Clarissa explained, “he’s also the captain of the basketball team. You don’t want to let up on him. Even without his skills, he’s really good. We’ll need to keep eyes on him at all times.”

  Their newly added substitute nodded. “Any chance you’re going to tell us what his class is? Or his skills?”

  Clarissa shook her head. “Mrs. Southfire hasn’t told you guys yet, but part of the purpose of this training is for you to figure out how to deal with an opponent with a class and skills you don’t know. Figure it out.”

  The boy, Ezekiel, rolled his eyes. “Go figure.”

  They broke back into place for another tip off. Like the last one, Ark won the ball, bringing it over to the team. They passed the ball around, dribbled their way to the other court. The ball ended up in Ezekiel’s hand, the opposing team putting up a good defense until they were down to the last seconds of the shot clock.

  Ezekiel passed the ball to Melmarc at the last second, forcing him to put up a shot. Diret came flying out of nowhere, contesting the shot. The ball bounced off the back iron of the rim and an opponent got the rebound.

  “Fall back!” Ark bellowed, following his own instruction. “I’ve got Diret.”

  Melmarc saw Diret laugh as Ark stayed on him while they fell into defensive position. Each person stayed on their marks and the ball found its way to Diret’s hands.

  “You’re good,” Diret told Ark, complimenting him.

  Ark laughed a little at that. “Are you better?”

  “Only one way to—” Diret cut himself off before the sentence was complete and dribbled past Ark.

  Ark darted back, covering immediately, keeping him out of the interior in the blink of an eye. It forced Diret to pull back in an attempt to recreate space between them. Ark didn’t follow up, maintaining a healthy enough distance.

  Ezekiel moved, wanting to provide help, but Ark dissuaded him with a gesture. It was not yet time for a double team.

  Diret tried two more dribble moves and failed to get past Ark once more. Ark kept on him, giving him only enough space to believe he could do something, closing it every time Diret tried to do something.

  In the end, Diret was forced to pass. The ball ended up with Melmarc’s mark. The boy was fast, quick on his feet. It looked more like the effects of upgraded stats, not the speed of the [Speedster] class. But with overlapping stat boosts from the constant use of [Knowledge is Power], Melmarc was keeping up well enough. There was also his awareness of movements on the court.

  After a few more passes, the boy breezed past Melmarc. Melmarc followed after him, catching up just as the boy leapt for a dunk. Catching sight of him, the boy switched into a layup, moving the ball from the hand closer to Melmarc to the other.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Melmarc was taller. Not needing to jump too high, he swatted the ball out of the air once it was released, sending it out of the court.

  He got a slap on the back from Ezekiel in commendation before everyone fell back into position.

  The game went on for a while longer after that. In the next eight minutes, they’d exchanged possessions a few times. Melmarc’s team was in the lead by three points, and everyone seemed to still have enough energy to spare.

  Then Melmarc switched with Ark, staying on Diret while they were on the defence. Diret took his time bouncing the ball as he approached the arc slowly. So far, if any body had been using skills, it would’ve been the most minute of effects, the type that you didn’t notice.

  Some people were a little too fast or a little too strong—nothing out of the ordinary for those who were Gifted.

  “You had a fun showing last game,” Diret complimented, lowering his center of gravity, bending at the knees like someone about to dribble would. “But you haven’t really been spectacular this game.” The sound of the ball bouncing was a backdrop to his words. “If anything, you’ve been getting slower. Is it because we haven’t been using skills?”

  “I’m just not as good as my brother,” Melmarc answered, arms held out in defense. “He’s the athlete.”

  Diret looked to Ark. Melmarc took that moment of distraction to reach for the ball, attempting a steal, but Diret was attentive. The captain of the combat team pulled the ball back absently.

  “I can agree with that,” he said, as if Melmarc hadn’t just tried to take the ball away while he wasn’t watching.

  He’s really good, Melmarc noted. Definitely better than me.

  “How about we do this,” Diret said, ignoring the shot clock as it brought them within ten seconds of shot violation. “Let’s move this into a skilled battle so that you can have another spectacular game.”

  “Please don’t,” Melmarc answered. He was rather enjoying the now slow pace of the game.

  Diret chuckled a little. “I had a feeling you’ll say that. Just know this: I’m an A-rank [Illusionist].”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when he executed a step back jump shot, putting him well into the three-point zone. Taller than him, Melmarc jumped to block the shot. He was just high enough when he realized that Diret did not jump.

  A fake?

  Diret kept his eyes on the rim when Melmarc bumped into something. Mrs. Southfire blew the whistle for a foul, and Melmarc heard the basketball breeze past him. It was followed by the sound of the net as it made a successful shot.

  “And one!” someone on Diret’s team exclaimed.

  How?

  Melmarc looked down and saw Diret lying on the ground with a friendly smile on his face. As for the version of him that had pushed into a step back three, it faded into nothing.

  An illusion.

  Ark came and patted him on the back while Diret’s teammate came to help him up, dusting him off when he was on his feet.

  “Don’t worry too much about that,” Ark told Melmarc. “I would’ve probably fallen for it, too.”

  Dissonant.

  That definitely didn’t help.

  Diret made the free throw without any show of strain. It was a display of confidence that only came from those who played the sport a little too much, in Melmarc’s opinion.

  On the offensive, Melmarc found himself face to face with Diret once more. The boy was a defensive titan, not allowing him any space to exploit. It was impressive, but not so much since Melmarc didn’t consider himself to be anywhere as good as Ark.

  “Come on, then,” Diret told him. “No Devin for you. Today you’ve got me.”

  It was interesting since Melmarc had not even crossed paths with Devin the entire game when Devin was on the court as Diret’s teammate.

  “Left or right?” Diret prodded.

  Melmarc tried to not let Diret distract him. When he feinted left, Diret followed, catching up immediately Melmarc moved to the right. It forced Melmarc to pull back then pass the ball to Ark.

  Ark caught it and, with great precision, passed it right back.

  Melmarc’s jaw almost dropped. But he knew what Ark was doing, Ark wanted to him to deal with it. Sometimes it was stressful having a brother who believed in you. If they thought you could do it, they would often leave you to drown until you succeeded in swimming.

  “Avoiding confrontation?” Diret teased. “That won’t fly on the combat team. You have to deal with your problems not avoid them.”

  “Basketball’s a team sport,” Melmarc returned.

  Diret shrugged. “Maybe.”

  He reached for the ball and Melmarc pulled it to the side on instinct. Another hand appeared out of nowhere, stealing the ball from him. Just like that, Diret was gone, charging towards the net on a fast break.

  Fuck! Another illusion! he snapped, doubling back to chase Diret down.

  He caught up faster than he expected. Diret leapt for a layup and Melmarc followed. Realization hit him before he left the ground. He tried to push his attention wide, to look at everything at the same time. In the end, he left the ground a little too late. Diret’s layup was successful—he made the bucket.

  Melmarc pressed his lips in a thin line designed to mask a frown of displeasure as Diret hopped backwards, shooting him a friendly competitive smile.

  Ark was chuckling a little. “Trust me, you’ve got this,” he told Melmarc.

  “Does he?” Ezekiel said, frowning. “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle that.”

  “Yeah,” Clarissa confirmed. “He really knows how to use his illusions. You’re kind of unlucky that he’s focused on you.”

  “Yeah,” Justice said. “Whenever I’m on him, he just passes the ball.”

  Melmarc had noticed that.

  Ark shrugged, stepping out of the court to pass the ball inbound. “Me, too.”

  “He likes to play like that sometimes,” Clarissa confirmed. “When he takes an interest in someone on the court like this, he kind of forgets about everyone else. The basketball team always hopes that he doesn’t take an interest whenever we are playing another school.”

  Ark passed the ball to Melmarc and they went on the attack. Melmarc wasn’t always with the ball. Both teams went back and forth for a while, making baskets and missing before he found himself in a standoff with Diret once more.

  Diret looked more than happy with the situation.

  “Wanna try again?” Diret asked, ball in hand.

  Melmarc adjusted his stance. He was more than determined.

  You can stop him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to use a skill to stop me?” Diret asked, curious.

  Melmarc wasn’t sure he could stop him without using a skill, but he was inspired to. He wanted to at least try.

  No, he corrected himself, forcing himself to not focus too hard on the boy. I want to win.

  Diret bounced the ball behind his back and moved to Melmarc’s left. Instead of closing him down, Melmarc stepped back, increasing his field of view. Diret followed up, stepping straight into him. Melmarc raised his hands, made himself bigger.

  Diret pulled back, nodding. “That was good. Let’s try it again.”

  He feinted a pass and Melmarc let him.

  “So you won’t stop me from passing,” Diret noted.

  Melmarc couldn’t stop himself. “You wouldn’t run away.”

  Diret’s smile was slow this time. Mischievous. It reminded Melmarc of the way Ark liked to smile when he found a fun challenge.

  When Diret moved again, it was quick. The ball was a blur. It went behind his back, between the legs, into a forward hesitation, then into a step back that looked like the starting point for a pull up shot that somehow dipped into a spin past Melmarc. Diret danced into a series of dribbles so fast that Melmarc would not have been able to follow them if he wasn’t looking at the ball.

  Melmarc hesitated to follow the spin. Now that they were inside the arc, Diret could make a drive for the rim.

  Commit, a part of his mind told him, and he did, stepping back, only for Diret to pull up into a fade away jump shot that sent him leaping backwards. The points were his before he even hit the ground.

  He cocked his head, giving Melmarc a look that said better luck next time.

  “Basketball is also a game of feints,” Clarissa said, standing next to Melmarc. “And feints are illusions, for someone with his type of skills, it’s a dangerous game.”

  They met again, and Melmarc lost. Diret pulled into a jumpshot while the real version of himself drove by Melmarc when he jumped. Luckily, he didn’t make the shot. Still, he laughed in good nature.

  He was having fun.

  Melmarc failed again, baited into a charging foul by another illusion.

  Then it was a spin move he lost to.

  Then a layup that was actually a posterizing dunk.

  Then another steal.

  An ankle breaker that had him staggering back three steps, leaving Diret wide open for a three point shot, left him slightly disoriented.

  It piled on and piled on for minutes that seemed to stretch into hours. Melmarc didn’t know when he started breathing heavily, beads of sweat staining his brow.

  His teammates at this point weren’t even helping, no one was even trying to double with him to stop Diret.

  What if I don’t want them to? Melmarc thought, a realization dawning on him. What if I want to win this?

  His feet moved wrongly, trying to follow Diret’s movement. He’d pulled forward, forcing Melmarc back, only to pull the ball back, forcing Melmarc to try and double up. The thought was still going through his mind when his knees hit the ground. Both of them.

  He remained there, staring at nothing when Ark came to squat in front of him. Ark had a gentle smile on his face.

  “You good?” he asked.

  Melmarc wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, however, was that he wasn’t done. He held out his hand and Ark grabbed it, pulling him to his feet.

  “Want to tag out?” Ark asked.

  Melmarc shook his head. “No. I’m good.”

  Ark studied him for a moment, whatever he saw made him smile. Then he nodded before moving on.

  The game resumed and not much changed. Diret was still a menace. Melmarc remained his focus. He toyed with Melmarc until Melmarc began to wonder if the boy’s skill even took up enough mana. He’d been spamming the skill so much, so how hadn’t he fallen into mana fatigue? And did the skill even have a cool down?

  “You aren’t talking anymore,” Diret told him, bouncing the ball in front of him. “You do seem different, though. Have you decided to use your skill?”

  Melmarc said nothing, taking the captain of the combat team in completely. His gaze encompassed the boy and the bouncing ball, following their motion. They moved in synergy, both acting as one.

  It was almost beautiful to look at.

  Then he moved.

  He followed a series of dribbles, Melmarc kept himself in place.

  Not yet.

  Diret danced left. Melmarc followed. He danced right. Melmarc took an inch of a step back. He danced forward. Melmarc covered.

  Diret spun away, increasing the space between them, moving into a fade away jump shot.

  Melmarc feinted forward, then pulled into a massive step-back, increasing the distance main. His hand moved, swinging through the air. He sensed it all now, the flow, the angle, the movement of the mana particles. Air flowed into his lungs as his hand came down behind him.

  He felt it before he heard it.

  His palm connected with something hard. The sound of the ball against the wooden floor echoed through the entire court as it bounced off the ground until it went over the side line.

  The court fell silent.

  Melmarc stared at his palm for a short moment before looking back at Diret. Diret stood there with surprise on his face. Still, he was patient, as if waiting for something.

  A slow smile stretched Diret’s lips, it was oddly ecstatic.

  Then the court erupted into thunderous cheers.

  In its roar, Melmarc knew only one thing:

  I understand it now.

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