The coach's question hung in the silent, cavernous arena. "What… was that?".
Every eye was on me. My teammates, the assistant coaches, all of them staring, waiting for an answer to a question I couldn't possibly give. My mind, still reeling from the neurological backlash of the replication, raced to find a lie. It had to be a believable one. Something that fit the strange, contradictory box they had already put me in.
I leaned on the truth. The partial truth.
"I… I've been analyzing Jax's form since the first scrimmage, coach," I managed to say, my voice hoarse and shaky. "I saw all the flaws in it. The wasted energy, the bad positioning. I just… copied the movements. I guess I got lucky with the energy shaping."
It was a weak explanation. Pathetic, even. Luck didn't let a player with my stats generate a blast that could cancel out the Jax Hammer. It didn't explain the impossible visual of me mirroring his signature move.
The other players heard it. They didn't buy it, not for a second. The whispers started again, but they were different now. The simple contempt from before was gone, replaced by a new, more potent cocktail of confusion, suspicion, and a little bit of fear. Before, I was a joke. Now, I was a freak. An unknown quantity that didn't fit their understanding of the world.
Jax, who had just gotten to his feet, heard my explanation from across the court. A fresh wave of rage washed over his face. I hadn't just beaten him; I was now claiming I did it by mocking his best move. He didn't say a word. He just shot me a look of pure, undiluted hatred before storming off towards the locker room.
Coach Valerius stared at me, his expression completely unreadable. He blew his whistle, the sound making me flinch.
"Practice is over," he barked at the stunned players. "Hit the showers. All of you." He then pointed a thick finger at me. "Not you. My office. Now."
My heart sank. The other players filed out, throwing uneasy glances over their shoulders. Soon, I was alone on the court with the coach. The silence was heavier than ever. Without a word, he turned and walked towards the stairs leading to the offices overlooking the arena. I followed, my legs feeling like lead.
The coach's office was stark and professional. One wall was a giant window looking down on the court where we had just played. The other walls were covered in screens displaying player stats and old game footage. He sat down behind a large metal desk and gestured for me to take the single chair opposite him.
He didn't speak for a long time. He just stared at me, his eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to solve a complex equation.
"Don't lie to me, kid," he finally said, his voice a low rumble. "Your explanation was garbage, and we both know it. 'Getting lucky' doesn't let a player replicate a shot that contains ten times his measurable Aether output."
He tapped a few commands on his desk's console. My player profile, the one from the official league registry, appeared on a large screen next to him. My stats were a blight on the clean interface. He pointed at the screen.
"I pulled your file after the tryouts. Your
Aether Control was a 5. When you showed up to practice today, your shot was noticeably stronger. I ran a passive scan during the drills. Your AC is now a 17. Explain."
I was cornered. He had the data. He knew I was hiding something. The lie had to be better this time. It had to be grounded in something he could, on some level, understand. I clung to the one word that was the source of my power.
"Momentum," I said.
The coach raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
"It's… hard to explain," I started, trying to choose my words carefully. "It's like a flow state. When I'm in a match, and I do things right… when I make a perfect block, or a perfect dodge, one after another… something builds up inside me. I call it momentum. It's a resource. The more perfect plays I chain together, the more of it I get."
I looked him in the eyes, trying to sell it. "During the reflex drill, I built up a lot of it. During the duel with Jax, his constant attacks… he was just feeding me more. When the meter is full… I can do things. Things that should be impossible. I can push past my limits for one, single moment. Like replicating that shot. It takes everything I have, but it's possible."
I had just explained the core function of my System without ever mentioning a System. I described a "Full Meter" in a way a coach could understand: a player getting "in the zone" and building game-changing momentum.
Valerius leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving my face. He was silent for a full minute, processing what I had said.
"Momentum…" he finally mused, more to himself than to me. "I've seen it. Heard the old legends talk about it. Players who could single-handedly turn the tide of a game with one impossible play. They always said it felt like the whole game just flowed through them."
He looked at me, a new, sharp intensity in his gaze. "They were all S-Rank prodigies, Kai. Veterans with twenty years of experience. I've never seen a rookie, let alone an Unranked kid, who could consciously control it."
He stood up and walked to the giant window, looking down at the empty court.
"This changes things," he said. "Your real weapon isn't that little piercing shot you've developed. It isn't your brain, not on its own. It's that. That ability to build up to one, single, game-breaking moment. That is your ace in the hole. But an ace you can only play once a game isn't reliable."
He turned back to me. "Your job on this team just changed. Your physical stats are still trash. You will continue to work on them until you puke. But your main priority is now this: I want you to master that 'momentum'."
He walked back to his desk. "I don't just want you analyzing other players anymore. I want you to analyze yourself. I want a report on my desk tomorrow morning detailing every single action that builds your meter, and every action that breaks it. I want to know the exact numbers. We're going to take your little miracle and we're going to turn it into a consistent, reliable weapon."
I was stunned. He believed me. More than that, he was giving me official approval, a training regimen, to master my System's core mechanic.
I left his office, my mind spinning. I had survived. I had protected my secret. And now, my mentor was going to help me perfect it. I looked at my System interface. MP: 0/100. The meter was empty.
My path forward was clear. I needed to find the fastest, most reliable way to get a "Full Meter". My first thought went to the list of tasks waiting for me in my room.
The grind started now.