Inside Columbia University's indoor basketball arena, as the semi-finals of the collegiate basketball league began, the audience's enthusiasm was completely ignited. Waves of cheers and shouts converged into a sound wave, echoing throughout the stadium.
At this point, some girls who had been secretly watching Mike also turned their attention to the basketball game. After all, this crucial match concerned the honor of two top universities.
On the basketball court, Mark, who was in excellent form, did not disappoint the students' expectations. From the start of the game, he went all out, performing a spectacular sequence of steals, dribbles, layups, and scores—a brilliant one-man show.
This display of powerful individual ability also caused scouts from various teams in the corner of the court to nod frequently.
As Mark celebrated his first goal, his peripheral vision caught the scouts' reactions, so he vigorously waved his arm again, looking very excited.
It seemed his professional basketball dream was within reach.
Next, the highly motivated Mark collaborated with his teammates to repeatedly score, at one point making the cheers of Columbia University students in the stadium overwhelm those of Harvard.
The pens of the various scouts in the corner of the court never stopped, clearly indicating their high regard for the versatile Mark.
And Mark's importance to the team once again overshadowed "Werewolf" Scott.
The heated game continued, with Mark on the court pouring out his passion in one go.
However, he didn't notice that a certain lady's expression on the sidelines was becoming increasingly off.
On the court, the eighteen-year-old Mark, whether it was his celebratory moves after scoring, his appearance when wiping sweat, or even the small gesture of holding his jersey, was identical to someone in Scarlett's memory.
Gradually, in the woman's eyes, the eighteen-year-old Mark's figure merged with that person in her impression.
'Although I can't believe it, he must be Mike O'Donnell.'
Scarlett, who had found the truth, shouted with all her might in her heart.
But what good would that do? After the initial inexplicable excitement, the woman fell into a long period of contemplation.
'Perhaps this is good for both of us...'
Scarlett had also wondered if her "willfulness" back then had caused O'Donnell to lose a brilliant basketball career.
This might have led him to act like he had given up on life in their subsequent marriage.
Scarlett, who instantly understood many things, seemed relieved. She smiled as she watched the spirited Mark on the court score again, then quietly retreated towards the exit.
On the other side, Mark, who had just completed a spectacular alley-oop, was about to celebrate when, as if by telepathy, he looked towards the stadium exit.
There, a lonely figure was walking away, just like more than ten years ago.
That time, O'Donnell didn't want his girlfriend to bear the burden of an unplanned pregnancy alone. He resolutely abandoned a crucial ongoing game and ultimately chose to marry his girlfriend.
"Mark... Mark! What's wrong?"
A teammate, who was about to come over and celebrate the goal with Mark, saw him staring blankly at the empty stadium entrance and called out to him.
"N-nothing..." Mark seemed dazed for a moment, then, as if having made up his mind, he tossed the basketball to his teammate and said, "Sorry everyone, I have an urgent matter and need to leave. I'm leaving the rest of the game to you."
After speaking, Mark, as if a heavy burden had been lifted, ran lightly towards the exit.
"Wait, Mark!" The slightly overweight Columbia University basketball coach quickly stepped forward and grabbed Mark, saying seriously, "Do you know what this means? If you leave now, you're giving up your basketball dream..."
A basketball player who "runs away" in the middle of a game and lacks professional ethics would not be accepted by professional basketball teams.
The reactions of the scouts in the corner proved this point. At this moment, they all looked at Mark with surprise, not understanding the boy's actions.
"Sorry, Coach. And thank you for taking care of me during this time, but I have a reason I must leave this time!" After expressing his apology, Mark continued quickly, "If you want to find someone to replace me, I recommend Alex. That kid has a good foundation and loves basketball very much..."
With his words, Mark, who couldn't care less about anything else, bypassed the coach and ran out of the stadium entrance.
Behind him, the Columbia University basketball team, who understood what had happened, and the spectators outside the court were in an uproar.
One of their "aces" seemed to have deserted in the face of battle.
In the corner, some of the scouts directly tore up their previous records of Mark's various statistics.
Clearly, Mark, who was deemed to lack basketball professional ethics, had basically ended his professional career.
"O'Donnell, it seems you've made your choice..." Similarly, Ned, the rich second generation who had been following his friend's movements, had also seen Scarlett's departing back earlier.
So he was one of the few clear-headed people present.
"Although the outcome might not be good, what does it matter!" Then, the rich second generation shrugged comfortably, a smile on his face, seemingly happy for his friend's choice.
Soon after, he seemed to remember something and shouted loudly, "Alex! Alex!!! Let Alex play!"
His father left, but wasn't his son still here?
Ned had never felt so clever.
At the end of the Columbia University basketball team's bench, Alex also heard what Mark said to the coach before leaving.
His current mood could be described as both surprised and delighted.
He was delighted that his "big brother" finally recognized him. He was surprised, however, and feared he would perform poorly if he played.
The game had to continue. The middle-aged coach observed the Columbia University bench, with sporadic shouts of "Alex" still reaching his ears.
"Alex, I'm putting you in now. Can you promise to perform well?" the middle-aged coach asked the boy with the anxious expression.
"Yes, I definitely can!" Alex's expression gradually became firm.
"Very good. Once you're on the court, I need you to do your best to assist Scott and help him create space..." The middle-aged coach assigned Alex a simple task.
Although Alex inherited his dad's love for basketball, he actually didn't have the same basketball talent as the young Mark.
Even if he played, he couldn't be a starter.
Fortunately, "Werewolf" Scott, the star player, was still on the court, so Columbia University's hope of winning this semi-final was still very high.
Alex clearly understood his situation and did not object to the coach's arrangement. After a simple warm-up, he walked onto the court.
It proves that as long as you love basketball enough, even if you're a substitute or a fringe player, as long as you have the opportunity to step onto the court, you're the "protagonist" in your own heart.
Meanwhile, when Mike saw Mark leave the stadium, he comforted the girls around him and then found an excuse to also leave the stadium.
In the hallway, Scarlett, who had come out first, hadn't gone far and was leaning against the wall, silently weeping.
Mark, who had chased out after her, saw the woman's haggard state. He felt relieved and also grateful for his choice.
"Scarlett—!!"
After calling out his wife's name, Mark walked towards her with determined steps, just like more than ten years ago.
Scarlett, with tears in her eyes, turned around and saw the eighteen-year-old Mark walking towards her. His appearance gradually changed during this process.
Finally, when Mark stood face-to-face with the woman, his appearance had also returned to that of the woman's husband.
"I'm sorry for making you wait for me so long..."
Agent O'Donnell, who had personally apologized, tightly embraced his wife, who had once again dissolved into tears.
...
"Very good ability."
Around a corner in the hallway, Mike used his powerful perception to find "God."
At this moment, "God" appeared as an elderly cleaner with a mop in hand and graying hair.
Mike had seen the school's cleaners; there was indeed such an old man, but the one in front of him was definitely an impostor.
Power of Faith * 1000... Power of Blessing... Power of Protection... Power of Discipline...
A series of golden traits almost made Mike's eyes blur.
"I can feel that you really want to see me..." His identity exposed, the old man showed no panic and slowly said, "May I ask, what do you need me for, young man?"
"I did, but not anymore." Mike smiled brightly. The other party was being mysterious, so he didn't mind being a riddle-master.
Anyway, he had already gotten what he wanted.
This, in turn, silenced the old man. He gazed at the young man in front of him, seemingly trying to read his thoughts, but to his surprise, he failed.
However, there was nothing to be surprised about; with so many people in the world, it wasn't strange to have a few unique ones.
For example, people with sufficiently firm and strong hearts, or those with a pure heart who don't seek external validation, are very difficult for others to read.
As for Mike's situation, it was different. He already had the system as his first mental barrier, and now he also possessed the Power of Protection to guard his mind. Even "God" wouldn't be able to read his thoughts.
"You're very special." The old man seemed to have given up on reading thoughts and said calmly, "If there's nothing else, I'll be going. In a moment, I still have to clean the basketball court."
His demeanor and expression were such that if one didn't know, they would truly take this old man for an ordinary cleaner.
"Yes, I want to know, are you really God?" Seizing the rare opportunity, Mike asked the doubt in his heart.
Because intuitively, Mike felt that this "old man" in front of him, although he had many tricks, seemed to have limited "strength," and there was still a big gap between him and the legendary omnipotent God.
"Am I God?" The old man smiled and said, "God is omnipotent and omnipresent. You can be God, I can be God, anyone can be God... as long as God wishes."
What a charlatan's demeanor, saying something that amounted to nothing.
Mike silently complained in his heart and asked again, "So, are you God?"
The old man's expression stiffened, as if he realized that the young man opposite him was a serious person.
"To put it in your terms, I am not God." Having just completed a "redemption" mission, the old man seemed to be in a good mood and added a couple more sentences, "God has gone traveling elsewhere. We are just the messengers he left behind. People usually call us Angels."
We? Mike caught the key point in the other party's words.
"Are there many Angels in the world? What is the exact number?" Mike continued to press.
The characteristic light cluster from one Angel alone made Mike feel like he had doubled in strength in all aspects. If he found more Angels, he might even be able to become the legendary "God."
The thought was almost unimaginable.
"You ask a lot of questions, little fellow." The old man smiled and didn't answer, then, as if he remembered something, he continued, "You can call me Angel One. Young man, would you like to experience what it's like to be an Angel? I can grant you power, and you only need to use this power to help me protect the peace around New York for a period of time."
Like the "God" who went off to play, Angels also want to travel and relax once in a while after working for a period of time.
During this period, the Angel would select a qualified human agent to complete the necessary work on their behalf.
In Angel One's view, someone like Mike, with his deep thoughts and stable emotions, was very suitable to work for him.
However, in Mike's eyes, this mysterious Angel One opposite him was becoming more and more like a charlatan.
The other party seemed to be tempting him...
But from the words the other party spoke, Mike had already guessed that the number of Angels in the world should not be small but also not too many, and their abilities were not infinitely strong.
Furthermore, these Angels probably didn't communicate much with each other normally.
Otherwise, Angel One could have simply called a familiar colleague to clock in for him.
In summary, Mike, who already had strength as his backing, did not want to be a proxy Angel doing free labor.
Wouldn't it be better to spend that time figuring out how to find other Angels and collect light clusters?
"Not interested, I also have my own things to do." Mike shook his head, refusing Angel One's employment offer.
"Alright then, we'll see each other again if there's a chance—" As part of the good-aligned and lawful faction, Angel One did not pester him after being rejected.
Besides, his previous suggestion was just out of interest, and he wasn't forcing it.
Again, there are so many people in the world, and many of them would be willing to work for Angels for free.
The conversation ended, and Angel One, with a mop in one hand and a bucket in the other, like a true cleaner, walked away in the direction of the stadium.