The horn blared, signaling the start of the final ten minutes. The Dasmariñas Arena was a pressure cooker of sound—a deafening roar that vibrated through the floorboards. The Dasmariñas National High players jogged back onto the court, their faces etched with a fierce determination. Their ten-point lead felt both like a fortress and a fragile pane of glass, ready to shatter. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, floor wax, and pure, unadulterated tension.

The fourth quarter was no longer just a contest of skill; it was a brutal test of heart, spirit, and will.

Dasmariñas National High started with their ironclad lineup:

№20 Tristan Herrera, Point Guard

№23 Marco Gumaba, Shooting Guard

№7 Aiden Robinson, Small Forward

№9 Daewoo Kim, Power Forward

№21 Cedrick Estrella, Center

Lucban High countered with their trusted crew, their expressions grim and focused:

№10 Ronnie Abelardo, Point Guard

№12 Michael Severino, Shooting Guard

№14 Paolo Sison, Small Forward

№22 Gerald Garde, Power Forward

№55 Henry Chaves, Center

The referee handed the ball to Cedrick on the sideline. He slapped the leather, his eyes scanning the court before launching a sharp, precise inbound pass to Tristan at the top of the key. Tristan caught it cleanly, his body already low, a coiled spring of potential energy.

"Marco, wing left! Daewoo, set that screen high right!" Tristan's voice cut through the noise, a commander directing his troops. "Aiden, backdoor cut! Watch their guards—they're looking for a steal!"

Marco exploded to the left wing, his defender a step behind. Daewoo moved with deceptive speed, planting his feet to create a solid screen that momentarily disrupted the defense. Seeing the lane, Tristan faked a drive, drawing two defenders toward him before whipping a no-look bounce pass to Marco, who was already squared up on the wing.

Marco caught the pass in perfect rhythm. His form was fluid, automatic from thousands of hours of practice. The ball left his fingertips, rotating perfectly as it arced toward the hoop, seeming to hang in the air for a moment against the backdrop of roaring fans.

Swish. The net barely moved.

Score: Dasmariñas 61 — Lucban 51

The home crowd erupted, but the celebration was short-lived. Ronnie Abelardo took the inbound pass and blitzed down the court, a blur of white and blue. He sliced between two defenders, forcing the Dasmariñas defense to collapse on him. Just as Cedrick stepped up to contest, Abelardo dished a lightning-fast pass to Paolo Sison on the baseline. Sison rose effortlessly for a contested jumper over Aiden's outstretched arm, the ball kissing the glass before dropping through.

Score: Dasmariñas 61 — Lucban 53

As he sprinted back on defense, Tristan's mind was a whirlwind of calculations, but his expression remained a mask of calm. Control the pace, he told himself. This isn't about flashy plays anymore—it's about smart, efficient basketball. Trust the system. Trust the team.

He brought the ball upcourt, his dribble steady and deliberate. He saw Daewoo post up against Gerald Garde. The pass was crisp. Daewoo caught it, took one power dribble, and spun baseline. He rose for the hook shot, but Garde met him with pure strength, his body a wall. The shot was altered, clanging off the rim. In the ensuing scrum for the rebound, Henry Chaves ripped the ball away for Lucban.

On the sideline, Coach Gutierrez clapped his hands, his voice raw. "Defense! Don't give them an inch! Box out and take every single rebound!"

Gab and Felix, watching intently from the bench, exchanged a determined glance.

"They're fighting with everything they've got," Gab muttered, leaning forward.

"Their bigs are getting physical," Felix added. "Cedrick and Daewoo need to hold the paint."

On the court, Lucban's offense flowed through Michael Severino. He came off a screen, caught the ball, and without hesitation, pulled up for a deep three-pointer that silenced the arena.

Score: Dasmariñas 61 — Lucban 56

Aiden's breath caught in his throat as he jogged back. A five-point game. The fortress was crumbling. They're coming. Faster, stronger. I can't let them back in. This team, this coach, my friends… they're counting on me to hold the line.

On the next possession, Tristan tried to force a pass inside to Cedrick, but the lane was clogged. A Lucban defender tipped the ball. It bounced loose. Tristan lunged for it, his hand slapping it unintentionally toward the sideline and into a referee's leg. Turnover.

Coach Gutierrez stomped his foot. "Tristan, composure! Settle down! One play at a time!"

Tristan nodded, his cheeks flushed with frustration but his eyes locked on the coach, acknowledging the command.

Lucban capitalized immediately. Abelardo pushed the pace, found Severino again on the wing. Marco closed out hard, his hand in Severino's face, but the shot was already in the air. It rattled around the rim and dropped in. The lead was down to three.

Score: Dasmariñas 61 — Lucban 58

Timeout, Dasmariñas. Clock: 2:15

The players slumped onto the bench, gasping for air, towels draped over their heads. The arena was buzzing with nervous energy.

Coach Gutierrez knelt in the center of the huddle. He wasn't yelling. His voice was low, intense. "Listen to me. Look at me! We knew they would make a run. This is it. This is where champions are made. Not when it's easy, but right now, when it hurts. Cedrick, Daewoo—I want nothing easy inside. You own the paint. Tristan, you control this offense. No more forced passes. Smart decisions. Marco, Aiden, keep moving without the ball. Make them work for everything. We've worked too hard to let this slip away. Play our game. Play Dasmariñas basketball. On three. One, two, three!"

"DASMARIÑAS!" the team roared, their voices united.

The game resumed. Tristan brought the ball up, his eyes scanning, processing. He saw Aiden being shadowed closely. He signaled for a high screen from Cedrick. As Cedrick set the pick, Tristan drove hard to his right, drawing both his defender and Cedrick's man. At the last second, he stopped, pivoted, and fired a pass to Cedrick rolling to the basket. Cedrick caught it, went up strong, and was hammered by Henry Chaves. The whistle blew. Foul.

The arena held its breath as Cedrick stepped to the line. He calmly sank both free throws, pushing the lead back to five.

Score: Dasmariñas 63 — Lucban 58

Lucban came right back. Abelardo drove the lane, drawing the defense, and kicked it out to a wide-open Paolo Sison in the corner. Sison's three-point shot looked good from the moment it left his hands.

Swish.

Score: Dasmariñas 63 — Lucban 61

Clock: 1:02

The noise was deafening. Every person was on their feet. Tristan took the inbound, his expression unreadable. He dribbled slowly, letting the seconds bleed away. Forty seconds left. He waved off a screen, isolating his defender at the top of the key.

"Let's go, Tristan!" Marco yelled from the wing.

Tristan crossed over, then again, a dizzying sequence of movements. He drove hard into the paint, rising for a teardrop floater over two converging defenders. The ball floated high, a perfect arc that seemed to defy gravity, before dropping softly through the net.

Score: Dasmariñas 65 — Lucban 61

Lucban raced downcourt, no timeouts left. Abelardo frantically tried to get a shot off. He passed to Severino, who was blanketed by Marco. He passed back to Sison, who was hounded by Aiden. The shot clock was winding down. With three seconds left on it, a desperate pass went inside to Gerald Garde.

Daewoo was right there, his body tight against Garde's, denying him position. As Garde turned to shoot, Daewoo anticipated the move, leaping and getting a piece of the ball with his fingertips. The shot fell short, and Cedrick grabbed the rebound with both hands, clutching it like it was a championship trophy.

"FOUL!" Coach Gutierrez screamed, and Tristan immediately obliged, getting fouled with 8 seconds left on the game clock.

Tristan walked to the free-throw line, the weight of the game on his shoulders. He took a deep breath, dribbled twice, and shot. The first one was perfect.

Score: Dasmariñas 66 — Lucban 61

He missed the second. Lucban grabbed the rebound and launched a full-court prayer. The ball sailed through the air as the final buzzer sounded, falling harmlessly out of bounds.

It was over.

The arena exploded. The Dasmariñas bench flooded the court, engulfing the five players on the floor in a massive hug. Aiden collapsed to his knees, head in his hands, overcome with exhaustion and relief. Daewoo and Cedrick roared, beating their chests. Marco and Tristan embraced, a shared look of triumph passing between them.

Amidst the celebration, Tristan pulled his team into a tight circle, their arms draped over one another's shoulders, their chests heaving.

"We did it," Tristan said, his voice hoarse. "We held the line. Together. That's all that counts."

Marco grinned, sweat dripping from his face. "This is our fight. And we just won the battle."

Coach Gutierrez pushed through the crowd and wrapped his arms around his point guard and his center. "I'm proud of you. All of you. You earned this victory."

The scoreboard glowed above them, a testament to their grit and unity.

FINAL SCORE: DASMARIÑAS HIGH 66 — LUCBAN HIGH 61

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