The one-minute break was a stark contrast in emotions. On the CDO side, their coach was in a state of controlled emotion, screaming at his team for their lack of composure and their star, LA Morales, for his reckless, undisciplined fouls. The 6'9" phenom was back on the bench, but he was pacing, a towel draped over his head, a caged, furious lion.
On the Dasmariñas bench, it was a scene of weary triumph. Gab Lagman was helped to a seat by Cedrick, his face pale, his entire chest already blooming into a dark, angry purple where Morales had hammered him. Daewoo was guzzling water, his lungs heaving, but a bright, hard light of accomplishment was in his eyes. Ian Veneracion was just nodding, his focus absolute. They had executed the plan. They had sacrificed their bodies, taken the monster off the board, and built a 14-point lead.
"Good," Coach Gutierrez said, his voice a low, satisfied hum. "That was the work. You did it. Gab, Daewoo, Ian—you are done for now. Get your breath. Ice whatever hurts."
The three looked up, surprised. He was pulling all three of his primary defenders at once.
"Cedrick, Felix, Joseph," the coach barked. "You're in."
The three reserves shot up from the bench, their eyes wide. Felix Tan, the 6'5" athletic but slender center; Cedrick Estrella, the 6'4" wide-bodied banger; and Joseph Rubio, a 6'1" forward with boundless, chaotic energy.
The new lineup was set: Tristan, Marco, Joseph, Cedrick, and Felix.
"Coach?" Tristan asked, his voice low, questioning the logic. "They're angry. Morales is going to be back in. This lineup is..."
"Offensive," Coach Gutierrez finished for him, a cold, predatory smile touching his lips. "It's an offensive lineup. And that is exactly what I want."
He turned to the five players who were about to take the floor.
"Listen to me. The Dog Pound did its job. They bloodied them. They made them angry. Now, they're expecting us to turtle up, to try and hold this lead. They're going to come out hyper-aggressive, over-playing every pass, trying to force turnovers and get back in it. Their star is furious, and he's going to try and play 'hero ball'—block every shot, score every point. This is the moment we break them."
He looked at Tristan, then at Marco.
"This is your quarter. Tristan, you are the general. I want a masterpiece of offensive control. Joseph, your only job is to run the floor and create chaos. Cedrick, Felix, you are not Gab. You will not stop Morales. Your job is to contain him, box him out, and clean the glass. And Marco..."
Marco, who had been listening intently, stood up straighter.
"They just spent ten minutes chasing our dogs," the coach said, his voice dropping. "They are winded. They are frustrated. And they have no idea what you're about to do to them. I am unleashing you. Be the dagger. I want you to score. I want you to score until they don't want to guard you anymore. Do you understand me?"
Marco's face broke into the widest, most dangerous grin of his life. "Loud and clear, Coach."
"Go," Gutierrez commanded. "Step on their throats."
Start of the Second Quarter: Dasmariñas 20 — CDO 6
The buzzer sounded. The new Dasmariñas lineup took the floor. As predicted, LA Morales checked back in for CDO, his face a mask of cold fury. He looked at the new frontcourt of Cedrick and Felix and visibly sneered. Food.
Aiden, watching from the stands, his hand gripping the guardrail, was nervous. "This is a huge gamble. He's swapping all his best defenders for... for points. This is either genius, or it's suicide."
CDO, desperate to score, went right to their star. Morales got the ball on the low block, guarded by the 6'4" Cedrick.
"Too small! Too small!" Morales yelled, backing him down.
Cedrick, unlike Gab, didn't try to get under him. He used his immense 220-pound frame, holding his ground, a true immovable object. Morales was forced to turn, but Felix Tan, with his 6'5" frame and quick leaping ability, rotated over for a soft double-team.
Morales, seeing the trap, didn't pass. He rose up over both of them, a high-arcing, arrogant fadeaway. It was an incredible shot. It missed.
Felix leaped, his vertical carrying him over the CDO center, and snatched the rebound.
"RUN!" Tristan screamed.
Felix fired the outlet to his captain. Tristan was in the open court. The CDO defense, not expecting this new, fast-paced lineup, was in a scramble.
Tristan drove, his head up, his Floor General skill processing the floor in real-time. He saw three defenders collapse on him. He saw LA Morales, with his hero-ball mentality, sag into the paint to try and get the chase-down block. And he saw a flash of white and green in his right peripheral.
Marco. Sprinting to his favorite spot on the right-wing three-point line.
Tristan, at a full-speed dribble, didn't even look. He just fired a perfect, one-handed, Dimer-enhanced rocket pass. It hit Marco square in the shooting pocket.
Marco caught it. His feet were already set. The net hadn't even settled from the pass before the ball was in the air.
Swish.
Score: Dasmariñas 23 — CDO 6
The arena was stunned into silence. Morales, who had been in the paint, turned and glared at his point guard, who had failed to rotate.
Marco just held his follow-through, a look of pure, cold arrogance on his face, and jogged back on defense.
Morales was furious. He demanded the ball at the high post. He faced up on Cedrick. He tried to drive right, his dominant side. Cedrick, having studied the film, overplayed him, forcing him left. Morales, his handle high (as Tristan had noted), fumbled the ball for a split second. It was all the Dasma defense needed. Joseph Rubio, the new energy guy, swiped at the ball, knocking it loose.
Tristan dove for it. Turnover.
Tristan brought the ball up, but this time, he slowed it down. He raised one finger. Isolation.
The team spread the floor. He wanted to go right back at them. He passed the ball to Marco on the left wing, who was being guarded by the 6'2" CDO guard, J. Al-Hassan.
This was Marco's moment.
"Clear out!" he yelled.
He faced his defender. He was going to put on a show. He hit him with a hard, low crossover, Tight Handles keeping the ball on a string. The defender stumbled. Marco had the lane. But instead of driving, he used the space, stepped back, and rose for a buttery-smooth, 15-foot pull-up jumper.
Swish.
Score: Dasmariñas 25 — CDO 6
The lead was 19. The CDO coach was screaming, but his players looked shell-shocked.
"He's... he's on fire," Aiden whispered from the stands, his eyes wide.
Morales. Again. He was not going to be denied. He got the ball on the block, and this time, he didn't even try to move. He just turned and shot a hook shot over Cedrick. It was too strong. It clanged off the backboard.
Rebound. A war. Felix, Cedrick, and Morales all went up. Morales, with his 7'2" wingspan, got his fingertips on it, tapping it back out to his point guard.
The offense reset. 15 on the shot clock. The ball found Morales at the elbow. He drove, a desperate, straight-line drive. Felix, sacrificing his body, stepped in to take the charge.
The whistle blew. It was a block. A foul on Felix.
"What?!" Felix yelled. It was a bad call, a home-crowd call.
Morales went to the line. He hit both free throws.
Score: Dasmariñas 25 — CDO 8
Tristan walked the ball up, unfazed. He saw the frustration on Morales's face. He was scoring, but his team was being dismantled.
Tristan called for a high screen from Cedrick. He used it, driving right. LA Morales, who was guarding Felix, cheated off his man, his eyes locked on Tristan, desperate to make a defensive play.
Tristan saw him coming.
This was the play.
Marco, on the weak side, read the play instantly. He faked to the corner, then cut hard along the baseline.
Tristan, while still looking at the rim, threw a blindingly fast, no-look bounce pass right through the space Morales had just vacated. The pass zipped through two defenders and hit Marco in stride.
Marco caught it, his defender trailing, and finished with a slick, underhand reverse layup.
Score: Dasmariñas 27 — CDO 8
Aiden, in the stands, just laughed. "He's not just a general... he's a magician. He's using their best player against them. Morales is so hungry for a block, he's leaving his teammates on an island."
Morales, now completely enraged, demanded the ball. He got it, drove baseline past Cedrick, and rose up for a thunderous, two-handed, rim-rocking dunk. He hung on the rim, screaming.
Score: Dasmariñas 27 — CDO 10
"Keep yelling," Marco muttered under his breath. "You're down 17."
Tristan just smiled. He's emotional. He's not thinking.
He let Marco bring the ball up. The CDO guard, terrified of Marco's shot, was playing him suffocatingly tight.
Marco passed to Tristan, then ran his defender off a screen from Felix. He got the ball back, 25 feet out. The defender recovered, flying at him.
Marco pump-faked. The defender leaped past him.
Marco took one calm dribble to his left. He now had a clean, open look from 20 feet.
Swish.
Score: Dasmariñas 29 — CDO 10
It was a 9-point, one-man run from Marco Gumaba. He was incandescent.
Morales tried again. He posted up. This time, Felix fronted him. Cedrick came from behind. A perfect, textbook high-low trap. Morales was swarmed. He tried to throw the ball out.
Joseph Rubio, the energy guy, who had been waiting for this, shot the passing lane, stole the ball, and was gone.
Fast break. Joseph laid it in.
Score: Dasmariñas 31 — CDO 10
The CDO coach didn't even bother to call a timeout. He just sat on the bench and put his head in his hands. His team had quit.
After another CDO miss, Dasmariñas had the ball again. The CDO defense was in a state of total collapse. They were just... watching.
"Tris!" Marco yelled, holding up one finger. "One more!"
Tristan nodded. He gave the ball to Marco, isolated on the left wing. The shot clock was winding down. This was pure spectacle.
Marco faced his defender. He dribbled. Once. Twice. He jab-stepped. The defender didn't flinch.
So Marco went to his bag. He took a hard dribble right, planted his foot, and spun back to his left, rising up into a high-arcing, one-legged, Dirk-Nowitzki-style fadeaway jumper.
The entire arena held its breath. The shot was... perfect.
Swish.
Score: Dasmariñas 33 — CDO 10
Marco didn't run back. He just stood there, his hand held high, staring directly at the CDO bench, a look of ultimate, cold-blooded disrespect on his face. He had scored 13 points in the quarter. He had single-handedly broken their will.
LA Morales had seen enough. He got the ball on a broken play, 30 feet from the basket. He didn't care. He drove. He bulldozed his way past Cedrick, past Felix, and went up for a dunk.
Felix, in a brave, foolish act of defiance, tried to block it. Morales dunked on him, sending him crashing to the floor. The foul was on Felix. And-one.
Morales stood over him, snarling. "Get up, little boy."
Tristan and Cedrick were there instantly, pulling their teammate up, getting between him and Morales. "Hey! Back off!" Cedrick shoved him.
The refs separated them.
Morales went to the line, his face a mask of rage, and hit the free throw.
Score: Dasmariñas 33 — CDO 13
Tristan was unfazed. The monster was awake, but the lead was 20.
"Tristan!" Coach G yelled from the sideline. "Run 'Final Cut'!"
Tristan's eyes widened. It was their ultimate play, designed to use Marco's gravity to create a guaranteed basket.
Tristan held the ball at the top. Marco and Joseph ran a complex weave on the weak side. The CDO defense, now programmed to stop Marco at all costs, sent two defenders with him.
This was it.
Tristan drove hard to the right. LA Morales, in his "hero ball" mode, left his man, Felix, to stop the drive.
Tristan was trapped. He was in mid-air, with Morales and his own defender rising to meet him. Three defenders were committed to Tristan Herrera.
Tristan, his court vision at its peak, saw it.
He didn't look. He didn't hesitate.
He leaped, twisting his body, and threw a two-handed, over-the-head, blind alley-oop pass towards the rim.
Felix Tan, who had been left completely alone by Morales, sprinted from the baseline, rose up, caught the pass, and slammed it down with two hands.
It was a play of such breathtaking arrogance and perfect execution that the entire arena fell silent.
Score: Dasmariñas 35 — CDO 13
LA Morales just stood under the basket, staring at his coach. He had been beaten. Not by size, but by strategy. He had been used.
The rest of the quarter was a formality. The CDO team was broken. Their star was exhausted and frustrated, their role players were terrified.
Joseph Rubio got another steal and a layup. Cedrick hit two free throws.
By the time the halftime buzzer sounded, the scoreboard told a story of a total, systemic execution.
Halftime Score: Dasmariñas 39 — CDO 15
The Dasmariñas National High had outscored the CDO High 19-9 in the second quarter. They had built an insurmountable 24-point lead.
They jogged off the court, not to cheers, but to the stunned, heavy silence of the Davao crowd. They had just walked into the lion's den and pulled the lion's teeth.
In the stands, Aiden Robinson was on his one good feet, his arm pumping the air, tears of pride streaming down his face.
Tristan, catching his eye, just gave a single, calm nod.
One more half.