Korre's smile was radiant, almost blinding in its sincerity. She clasped Coonie's hands tightly, her voice trembling with pride.

"I'm so proud of you, Coonie. Pastor will guide you."

Coonie forced the corners of his lips upward, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Yeah, Mom. I'll… catch up."

The moment she turned her back, the mask slipped. His gaze darted toward the side corridor near the altar a narrow passage with a sign that read STAFF ONLY, almost invisible in the dim light. During past visits, he had watched church workers vanish through that door with boxes, never returning for long stretches. Something down there was hidden. And tonight, he was going to find out.

His heartbeat thudded in his chest like a pre–game tip-off. One step. Two. He slipped behind a pillar, pressing his back against the cold marble wall. His palms were slick with sweat.

Outside, in the comm nestled within his collar, Evan's voice crackled quietly.

"He's moving toward the restricted hallway. Two guards near the side exit. Lucas, flank left."

"On it," Lucas replied, his tone sharp. "I'll mirror their movements. If they notice him, I'll pull them away."

Across the street, hidden in the shadows of an old oak, Ethan flipped through his battered notebook pages filled with hasty sketches of the church's interior. His eyes traced the lines with laser focus.

That corridor leads to the storage rooms… and beneath that, the basement. The real game starts underground.

Next to him, Ryan tapped his foot impatiently. "We're doing this stealth thing too long. I could just walk in and—"

Brandon smacked the back of his head, a low hiss escaping his lips. "And blow everything? Shut it."

Louie snorted softly. "Damn, Brandon the babysitter strikes again."

Inside, Coonie reached the STAFF ONLY door. His fingers curled around the knob. Locked.

He crouched, peeling away the tape beneath his insole to retrieve a thin screwdriver. His breath came slow and steady. The quiet click of the lock echoed like a gunshot in the silent hallway.

The door eased open. He slipped inside.

The hallway was dim, lined with shelves of hymnals, incense, and cleaning supplies. But at the far end, standing like a sentinel, was a pair of steel double doors—industrial, heavy, and completely out of place in a holy sanctuary.

Bingo.

He crept closer, pressing his ear against the cold metal. Faint chanting seeped through—low, rhythmic voices, like a ritual not meant for outsiders.

They're down there… doing something.

His fingers brushed the handle.

Footsteps.

Two men in plain suits rounded the corner, chatting casually. Coonie dove behind a shelf, heart hammering against his ribs.

"Pastor said the new one's finally here. Gotta prep the basement."

"Yeah. We'll see if he's loyal. If not…" One of them drew a finger across his throat with a grin.

Coonie held his breath. One of them stopped, sniffing the air.

"You hear something?"

"Probably rats. Let's go."

They disappeared through the steel doors. Ten seconds. Twenty. Then he moved. The door shut just as he slipped through.

Outside, Lucas crouched by the fence, eyes tracking every movement.

"Two men just went in through the side hallway. Coonie's right behind them."

Ethan's voice came through like steel.

"Good. Everyone, positions. If something happens, we execute Plan Shadow Step. No noise. No panic."

Evan chuckled. "You really named it Shadow Step?"

Ethan shot him a glare that didn't need words.

"Keep the timer running."

The air shifted as Coonie descended the spiral staircase. The scent of incense was gone, replaced by something metallic iron, maybe blood. The flickering candles cast uneven shadows across the underground chamber. He crouched behind a column, eyes widening at the sight below.

A gathering. Fifteen, maybe twenty people, all dressed in black robes. In the center stood Pastor Delrio, facing a strange altar made of black stone that seemed to drink the light around it. His voice echoed through the cavern:

"...And through unity, we will reshape destiny. Through faith, we bind the chosen. Through sacrifice, we rise."

The followers chanted his words in perfect rhythm, a haunting chorus that made Coonie's stomach twist.

Then Delrio turned.

His eyes locked onto Coonie like a hawk spotting prey.

And he smiled.

"Why don't you come down and join us, Coonie?"

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

No way… he saw me, he knew?

Outside, Ethan's system interface flashed red.

SYSTEM ALERT: [Mission Update: Coonie's Cover Has Been Blown. Adaptive Response Required.]

Ethan surged to his feet, his voice slicing through the comms like a whistle at crunch time.

"He's been spotted. Everyone, MOVE!"

Lucas vaulted over the fence, landing like a cat. Ryan cracked his neck, eyes gleaming. Brandon followed, quiet but powerful, his steps steady. Evan flipped open his tablet, fingers flying as he jammed the church's communication lines.

Louie grinned nervously. "Showtime."

Ethan's eyes hardened, a strategist stepping onto the court.

Pastor Delrio… checkmate's coming.

Down below, Delrio descended the steps slowly, robes swaying like the coils of a serpent. His voice was soft, chilling.

"I was wondering when the skeptic would wander into the lion's den. Tell me, Coonie… did you come here to believe? Or to betray?"

Sweat dripped down Coonie's temple. His fists clenched.

Ethan… the buzzer's about to sound.

Then

BOOM. The side door exploded open.

Lucas strode in first, smirking.

"Yo, Father Fake. We're here for our teammate."

Ryan cracked his knuckles.

"And maybe break a few things while we're at it."

Ethan appeared last, descending the stairs like a commander entering a battlefield. His gaze locked with Delrio's.

"Sorry to crash your sermon," he said, voice steady as stone. "But the game's changed."

The underground chamber erupted like a hornet's nest.

Followers surged forward in eerie unison, robes fluttering like black waves, eyes wide and glassy. Their synchronized steps filled the air with a strange, rhythmic chaos. Candles sputtered and flickered, throwing twisted shadows across the stone walls like spectators watching from the bleachers of some forbidden arena.

Ethan stood at the base of the stairs. His posture was calm, but his entire body was coiled like a blade ready to strike. Behind him, his team fanned out instinctively. Lucas slid to his right flank, stance low and balanced. Brandon anchored the rear, silent and immovable like a defensive wall. Ryan shifted restlessly, barely containing his urge to charge. Evan's eyes scanned the chamber with the precision of a point guard reading passing lanes, tablet ready in his hand.

At the far end, Pastor Delrio raised a hand.

The mob froze mid-step, heads bowing instantly. The silence that followed was heavy, almost reverent. Delrio didn't need to shout; his presence wrapped the room like the grip of a serpent.

His eyes swept across the intruders until they found Ethan. A sharp, deliberate gaze. A predator recognizing another.

"Ethan Albarado…"

The way he said the name was soft almost reverent but it slithered through the chamber like a cold wind.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. His voice stayed level, controlled.

"You know me?"

Delrio's lips stretched into a slow, unsettling smile.

"Who wouldn't know you? A rising star… a boy who bends games with nothing but his mind and will. The courts are buzzing with your name."

Then, theatrically, his gaze shifted toward Lucas.

"And you too… Lucas Graves. The prodigy who copies the greats. The one they call a mirror of legends."

Lucas straightened, his yellow eyes catching the candlelight like twin sparks. His usual sunny calm didn't vanish but it hardened. He stepped forward, no hesitation.

"You're a bad person."

The words were simple. But they cut through the thick tension like the whistle before a clutch play.

The cultists stirred. Whispers rippled through the crowd, eyes flicking nervously between their pastor and the boy who dared to defy him.

Delrio chuckled low, hands clasped behind his back like a patient teacher.

"Bad? No, my boy. I offer people purpose. I give them something your precious game never will eternal meaning."

Ethan's reply was sharp.

"You manipulate people who are lost. You twist faith into chains."

The pastor tilted his head slightly, like a viper sizing up its prey.

"And you twist a ball into worship. Stadiums kneel to your highlight reels. Crowds scream your names like prayers. Tell me, Ethan, who's the cult leader now?"

The words landed like a calculated strike.

Ryan stepped forward, scowling. "He's trying to get into your head, captain."

Ethan didn't blink. His mind was already mapping everything enemy formations, movement patterns, exits, weak points. But beneath that was something colder: this man knew too much.

He knows my name… my story… this isn't random. Someone's feeding him information.

Lucas clenched his fists. His grin faltered, just for a second.

This guy… he's dangerous.

Delrio moved forward slowly. And like shadows tethered to his will, the followers mirrored him step for step.

"Why don't you all stay a while?" he said softly. "Listen. Maybe you'll find… what you didn't know you were missing."

Ethan's lips curled into a sharp grin.

"Sorry. We already have a team. And you're not the coach."

He raised his hand subtly. Instantly, his team shifted into position—Lucas to the right, Ryan flanking left, Brandon guarding the stairway like a center in the paint, Evan taking the far angle for control. It was a half-court press, transposed into a battlefield.

Delrio's smile widened.

"Oh… so it's that kind of game."

He snapped his fingers.

The chamber exploded back into motion.

Followers surged forward like a defensive trap, tightening the circle. Some stumbled like blind zealots but others moved fast. Coordinated. Trained.

Ethan's heart skipped.

Some of them are organized. Not just a church. A network.

Ryan let out a roar and charged like a power forward cutting through defenders. Lucas ducked low, spinning between two robed figures mimicking their movements mid-step before flipping them over with flawless precision. Brandon batted away two attackers like a rim protector swatting layups.

Ethan's voice cut through the chaos like a coach's whistle.

"Ryan left lane! Lucas, screen and cut! Brandon hold the post!"

They responded immediately. Years of instinct and trust turned the underground chamber into their court. Their movements were sharp, seamless, a choreography of strategy and grit.

Delrio didn't intervene. He watched. His eyes followed Ethan like a hawk, his smile never faltering.

Yes… show me. Show me your power, Ethan Albarado. You're exactly what He's looking for.

Ethan caught that look. His jaw tightened.

He's not just a cult leader… he's connected to something bigger. Someone.

Lucas skidded to his side after flooring another cultist. His chest heaved lightly, eyes burning.

"He's watching you like a hawk, Ethan."

Ethan's reply was ice-cold.

"Let him. But we end this fast. No overtime."

The clash intensified. Shouts, footsteps, and the dull thud of impact filled the chamber, echoing off the stone like a twisted game in a cursed arena. And through it all, Pastor Delrio stood still smiling as if he already knew the final score.

Deep in Ethan's system interface, a notification blinked.

[New Mission Branch Unlocked: "The Pastor's Game"]

Objective: Uncover the truth of this cult

Difficulty: S-Rank

Reward: ???

Ethan's heartbeat sharpened.

This was no longer just an infiltration.

This was war

To be continue

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