CHAPTER 96: HORIZON MARCHES ON

And with that...

The final was confirmed.

Horizon had won.

Dirga slumped onto the hardwood, breath shallow, heart pounding like distant thunder. His body trembled—not from nerves, but from the aftermath of everything he’d just unleashed. The pressure, the surge, the impossible push beyond limits.

[Flow State: Deactivated]

He had used it twice.

Once at 200%.

The second time—300%.

A number he didn’t even know was possible.

"Didn’t the system say it maxed at 200%?" he thought, puzzled.

As if hearing him, the voice echoed in his mind:

[To answer the host’s question: The boost is pressure-dependent. Under extreme psychological and physiological stress, and due to host’s improved physical threshold, temporary override is possible in certain cases.]

Dirga blinked. "So wait... did I already reach S-rank in Physical?"

[No, host. You’re still where you were before.]

His lips twitched in a tired smile. "Figures."

He tried to stand—but his legs refused. They trembled like jelly, nerves fried from the overload. Sweat trickled from his chin to the court below, vanishing into the painted wood.

He heard the referee call the teams to center court to bow in respect.

And then—

A hand.

"Yo. You okay?"

It was Kaito.

Dirga looked up. His vision still swam slightly, but he smiled weakly.

"Ah... just overcooked it a bit."

He took the hand. Kaito hauled him up, offering his shoulder for support. Kaito’s grip was steady, grounding. It reminded Dirga of their first practice—the same calm weight behind every motion.

A moment later, Rikuya came over too—but his height made it awkward. Without a word, Taiga stepped in and carried the weight instead, like he always did. Solid. Quiet. Unshakable.

This win was different for them.

For Kaito and Rikuya—this was everything.

They’d started this club.

They’d built it brick by brick.

And now they were in the final.

For Rikuya, a third-year, this would be his last shot before university. He was passing the torch.

And Kaito—frail heart and all—had finally touched the court of his dreams.

For the others, it was a promise coming true.

And Dirga... he would make sure this wasn’t the end.

They’d go all the way. Nationals was next.

The referee’s voice cut through the stadium one last time.

"Bow."

Both teams lined up.

Dirga stood tall—barely—but he bowed deep. Respectful. Grateful. Exhausted.

Teshima stepped forward, offering his hand.

"You’re seriously good. If you ever transfer to our school, we’ll hand you your full data. You might actually like it."

He smiled faintly.

Dirga chuckled, still catching his breath. "You too. You guys were monsters. And sure—I’ll visit. Just don’t expect me to stay."

Laughter.

They shook hands.

Across the court, both teams—Horizon and Seiryuu—shared brief words, laughs, and slaps on the back. Even though the match had ended, the heat still clung to the court like steam after rainfall.

For Seiryuu’s seniors, this was the end of a three-year journey. A journey that had brought them to the edge of greatness, and tonight—left them just short of it.

The Horizon players made their way to the locker room. Some limping. Some laughing. All breathing like they’d just survived a war.

Outside the tunnel, Sayaka was waiting.

"Dirga. There’s a Sports Weekly reporter who wants to talk to you."

"Huh? Me?"

Dirga blinked. "Oh... wow, okay."

"Can you walk?" Kaito asked.

Dirga looked down. His legs still trembled slightly—but strength was returning.

"I can do it, senpai," he said, his voice firm.

Kaito nodded with a grin. "Alright. Go say something cool."

Dirga chuckled as he turned down the hall, his footsteps still heavy but no longer stumbling.

"Something cool, huh?"

...

"Ah, Dirga-kun, nice to meet you! Let me introduce myself—Riku Yamane, Sports Weekly," the young woman said cheerfully, handing him a slim business card.

She had a professional aura—press badge around her neck, recorder already in hand—but there was a clear spark in her eyes. The kind that only came after watching something unbelievable unfold courtside.

Dirga nodded politely and took her hand.

"Thank you. I’m honored," he said, still catching his breath as the aftershock of the match lingered in his body.

"Shall we begin?" she asked.

"Yes, go ahead."

She tapped the recorder. "Alright. First question: How does it feel? That performance you pulled off in the last minute—Dirga, that wasn’t just basketball. That was... something else. From the first quarter to the buzzer, it felt like we were watching another level of play entirely."

Dirga exhaled slowly, sweat still clinging to his neck.

"The first thing I can say is... I’m happy," he answered, voice steady but humble. "We made it to the final. That’s everything we’ve been working for."

She leaned forward. "And that play? That final burst—like you switched into a different gear altogether. There’s talk already about some hidden training... And we’ve heard you weren’t raised in Japan?"

Dirga scratched the back of his head, a bit sheepish.

"Ah, yeah. I moved to Japan not too long ago. I was born and raised in Indonesia."

"An overseas talent, huh?" she smiled, clearly intrigued. "So, one more thing—this might be a little spicy."

He raised an eyebrow.

"If you could choose... who do you want to face in the final?"

Dirga paused. That was the trap. Say the wrong thing, and it could be disrespectful. Say the right thing too cautiously, and it sounds weak. But the truth was already burning in his chest.

"I want Toyonaka," he said, eyes gleaming. "We’ve got unfinished business. We already made a promise—on that court."

She blinked, surprised by how direct his answer was.

"But... what about Heian Gakuen?" she asked, scribbling notes quickly. "The reigning champions? The ’Emperor’? Most people are betting on them."

Dirga didn’t hesitate this time.

"Toyonaka can win," he said firmly. "And if they do... I’ll be waiting for them in the final."

Riku Yamane smiled slowly, lowering her recorder.

"That’s a headline right there."

Dirga simply nodded, turning slightly to glance down the empty hallway.

The lights above flickered softly, the sound of distant footsteps echoing through the tunnel.

The final wasn’t just a game anymore.

It was a promise.

A battle already written.

And he was ready to step into it.