(Araneta Coliseum — 7:58 PM)
The air inside the dome felt colder than usual.
Not the kind that made you shiver — the kind that sharpened sound.
Every sneaker squeak echoed longer.
Every bounce felt cleaner.
Even the lights seemed to hum in tune with anticipation.
The crowd leaned forward as Cebu South Tech Titans walked out first —
five figures in white and blue, moving in perfect sync.
Warmups folded the same way.
Laces tied with the same precision.
Each step identical, like clockwork.
Their coach, Rico "Steel" Dela Torre, stood motionless at the sideline, arms crossed.
He didn't bark orders.
He didn't have to.
Every second was already written.
Commentators whispered it like gospel:
"The Machine of Visayas."
"Precision. No flair, no failure."
Then the arena lights shifted.
And Flowstate entered.
Not marching. Not posing.
Just arriving.
Bornok laughed with Renz about something no one else caught.
Lars dragged his duffel like it owed him rent.
Riki chewed gum, calm as static before thunder.
Thea juggled clipboards and sarcasm.
Coach Alvarez came last, coffee in hand, smiling like he already knew the ending.
They didn't look ready.
They looked alive.
Starting Five
FLOWSTATE STATE UNIVERSITY
PG — Riki Dela Peña (5'7): Rhythm master, unpredictable tempo
SG — Renz "Air" Alonzo (6'2): Air Drift Step finisher
SF — Drei Reyes (6'3): Perimeter scorer, calm precision
PF — Bornok Rivera (6'4): Mudwall Screen, paint anchor
C — Mateo "Teo" Alvarado (7'1): Centerpiece, silent tower
CEBU SOUTH TECH TITANS
PG — Macky Tumulak (5'11): Lightning quick, surgical passer
SG — Andre Valmoria (6'1): Deadeye shooter, zero celebration
SF — Toby Villareal (6'3): Defensive anchor, volleyball-block instincts
PF — Renzo Sable (6'5): Rebound bruiser, weightlifter strength
C — Jio Mendoza (6'9): Calm, speaks only when fouled
Tip-off.
Teo vs. Jio Mendoza.
The ball rose like a coin flip between philosophies.
Jio tapped it back to Macky.
Three passes later — corner three.
Cebu 3 – Flowstate 0.
No cheer, no grin.
Just the same five men jogging back to their spots, synchronized perfection.
Next play — Flowstate's turn.
Renz cut baseline, denied.
Riki's pass tipped.
Cebu swarmed, mechanical.
Fastbreak, layup.
5–0.
Drei checked the scoreboard, calm. "So that's how they do it."
Bornok grunted. "Feels like playing against Excel."
End of First Quarter: Cebu 26 – Flowstate 19.
Coach Alvarez didn't bother with the board.
He just looked at the floor, then at Lars.
"Change the song."
Lars blinked. "You sure?"
Alvarez nodded. "Let's see if machines can dance."
Second Quarter.
The shift began quiet.
Riki dribbled higher, slower — testing gravity.
Lars hovered near the arc, scanning.
Teo planted near the elbow, unmoving, the axis of the court.
Cebu's defenders twitched. Unsure.
Riki feinted once, passed to Lars.
One bounce, skip to Renz — cut, hang, reverse finish.
26–21.
Next trip — Lars waited, bleeding the clock.
At five seconds, quick flick to Drei.
Corner three.
26–24.
It wasn't speed.
It was timing.
Every motion one note off-beat.
The Machine started missing by inches.
Halftime: Flowstate 47 – Cebu 44.
Thea scribbled beside the bench:
"They're not attacking. They're composing."
Coach Steel's voice cracked through the huddle:
"Stop watching them! React!"
But his team couldn't.
They were built for patterns.
Flowstate was built to break them.
Third Quarter.
Then came the storm.
Renz took flight — not flashy, just unstoppable.
Air Drift Step. Midair twist. Left-hand finish.
Bornok's screens echoed like thunderclaps.
Every time Macky cut inside, he met the Mudwall.
Teo caught a lob one-handed, barely leaving the floor.
Jio Mendoza just shook his head.
Riki crossed twice, stopped cold, dished behind his back.
Lars burned through the lane — Lightning Step — kissed it off glass.
Flowstate 68 – Cebu 57.
Coach Alvarez kept his hands in his pockets.
He didn't say a thing.
The crowd had gone from chant to chaos.
Every basket a drumbeat.
Every pass a pulse.
The Machine began to slip.
Fourth Quarter.
Coach Steel switched to full-court press.
It didn't matter.
Renz caught the inbound, grinning.
"Press this."
He blew by two defenders, switched hands midair, dunked backward.
The dome shook.
Riki clapped twice.
Drei popped out of a flare — pure release.
Bang.
Bornok sealed Renzo Sable so hard the front row laughed.
Teo followed with a polite dunk over Jio — soft, silent, final.
Even Cebu's bench smiled.
It was a symphony.
Six passes.
No dribbles.
No wasted motion.
Every Flowstate player moved like a note played exactly on time.
Final minute.
Riki slowed everything to silence.
Dribble. Pause.
"Last set."
Renz nodded.
Bornok screened.
Lars slipped under.
Teo rolled.
Blind pass.
Catch.
Spin.
Air Drift Step.
Flowstate 98 – Cebu 71.
Buzzer.
The Machine stopped.
Coach Steel closed his clipboard and started clapping — slow, proud.
His players joined, exhausted but smiling.
Renz wiped his face, looked at Teo.
"Feels good being back."
Teo nodded. "Feels like home."
Thea stood by the scorer's table, pen hovering over paper.
She wrote one line:
"They didn't beat the Machine.
They taught it to dance."
The crowd roared as Flowstate gathered midcourt — shoulder to shoulder, lights flashing on sweat and smiles.
The scoreboard blinked: 98–71.
No one looked.
They were listening — to the rhythm echoing through Araneta.
And somewhere in that noise,
they already knew what came next.
End of Chapter 7 — "Rhythm vs Machine"