《Extra Basket》 Chapter 1: Prologue Chapter 1 - Prologue Oak Hill Academy C Mouth of Wilson, Virginia The gymnasium was packed. The sound of sneakers screeching against the polished hardwood echoed through the court as two teams clashed under the bright arena lights. The crowd roared, a sea of voices rising in excitement as the scoreboard ticked down the final seconds. At the center of it all stood Jalen "Flash" Carter The star point guard. 6''2" of pure speed. A maestro on the court. An explosive playmaker. Jalen dribbled at the top of the key, his sharp eyes scanning the defenders in front of him. His confidence was unshakableuntil he saw him. Number 20. A player he''d never seen before. Ethan Albarado. Jalen''s brows furrowed. "Who are you!?" Ethan smirked, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Me? I am Ethan Albarado... and this is my story." Then, with a flick of his wrist The ball vanished. Jalen''s breath caught as his vision blurred for a split second. His instincts screamed at him to react, but by the time he turned his head Lucas Graves was already in the air. The ball was in his hands. The rim was in his sights. Lucas threw down a vicious dunk, shaking the entire hoop. As he landed, he looked at Ethan with a wild grin. "No. Our story." The gym exploded in noise. Ethan exhaled, his eyes burning with resolve. He was supposed to be a water boy. A benchwarmer. An extra. But now? He was Ethan Albarado And this was the rise of Ethan and his team, Vorpal Basket. Chapter 2 - 1: Turning Point Chapter 2 - 1: Turning Point 2010 Middle School Basketball, California Jonathan Brandit, 14 years old and wearing jersey number 16, glanced at the clock. With just 10 seconds remaining in the 4th quarter, his team trailed by a single point. He knew it was now or never. Jonathan called out to his point guard, Alonzo, "Pass!" Alonzo threw the ball to Jonathan as the commentators'' voices echoed through the gym, "Alonzo passes to Brandit. 9 seconds left on the clock!" Jonathan dribbled past the shooting guard, using a smooth crossover before stepping back to set up a three-point shot. The shooting guard lunged to block the shot, but Jonathan was already in the air. "What a move by Jonathan Brandit!" the commentators exclaimed. "He''s shooting from beyond the arc with just 5 seconds remaining!" The ball flew through the air, heading straight for the basket. The crowd held its breath as the clock ticked down 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... The ball swished through the net. Jonathan, seeing the ball go in, jumped with joy, raising his arms and shouting, "Yah!!!!" The commentators were ecstatic, "What a shot by Jonathan! The Hunger Bulls win the game!!!" Jonathan''s teammates rushed to him, lifting him up and celebrating wildly. "You did it, man! You did it!!!" Jonathan smiled, soaking in the victory. But suddenly, an alarm blared, pulling him from his euphoria. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself back in his room. The memory of the game, the championship moment, was now just a distant dream. It was 14 years ago, the day he had been the MVP before life took a tragic turn. The accident had changed everything, leaving him confined to a wheelchair. Jonathan sighed deeply as the dream faded away, leaving him alone with the harsh reality. He looked at his legs and whispered, "Damn legs." feeling tears well up. The clock on his bedside table read 3 a.m and his parents were likely asleep. He looked over at his wheelchair, parked near the bed. Gritting his teeth, Jonathan managed to crawl slowly towards it. Moving was tough, but he was determined. He reached the wheelchair, panting heavily as he attempted to lift himself into it. The effort was hard, his legs felt heavy and uncooperative. After several minutes of struggling, he finally got himself settled into the chair. The effort and the strain of getting into the wheelchair reminded him of how difficult things had become. Once he was seated, he wheeled himself towards the door of his room. The house was quiet, with only the occasional creak of the floorboards breaking the silence. He made his way through the dimly lit hallway, moving carefully. His father''s gym was located in a separate building behind their house. Jonathan rolled carefully through the kitchen and out the back door, where the cool night air greeted him. He wheeled his way across the backyard, the moonlight illuminating the path. As he approached the gym, the large metal doors stood closed and silent. He maneuvered his wheelchair to the side door, which he managed to open with a bit of effort. The interior of the gym was dark and still, the vast space empty and echoing with silence. The wooden floor, polished and well-maintained, stretched out before him. The only sound was the faint hum of the gym''s heating system. Jonathan rolled inside, the lights flicking on as he entered. He took in the sight of the gymneatly arranged basketball hoops, the polished court, and the scent of leather and varnish in the air. The space was a reminder of what he had lost, yet it also fueled his determination. Despite the early hour, Jonathan began his practice, the rhythmic sound of the basketball bouncing against the floor a comforting reminder of his past. Each shot he took was a mix of frustration and hope, a quiet testament to his desire to reclaim his dreams. As Jonathan took another shot, a sharp pain suddenly stabbed through his chest. He clutched his heart, gasping, "Aurg!!!" The pain intensified, causing him to collapse to his knees on the hardwood floor. His vision blurred, and a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He thought of his familyhis younger brother, his parents. What would they do if he died now? Would they be heartbroken? Jonathan closed his eyes, the pain overwhelming him. In that moment, he felt an unsettling peace. July 20, 2024: Jonathan Brandit died. When Jonathan opened his eyes again, he found himself in an unfamiliar room. The surroundings were starkly different from the gym he had been in. The room was brightly lit, and he was lying on a simple bed. Confused, he murmured, "Where am I?" Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his head, causing him to groan, "Aurg!!!" Memories began to flicker and flash in his mind, disorienting him. As the haze cleared, Jonathan realized he had somehow transmigrated into a new body. The person he now inhabited was Ethan Albaradoa 14-year-old with blonde hair and blue eyes, of mixed Filipino and American heritage. Ethan was a student at Oak Hill Academy in Mouth of Wilson, Virginia, and was a bench player on the basketball team. The shock hit Jonathan like a freight train. He had been transported into the world of a novel he had once read. To his dismay, he discovered that Ethan''s team included the protagonist, Lucas Graves. And here Jonathan was, stuck in the role of a mere bench player. His heart raced as he processed the reality of his situation. He was no longer Jonathan Brandit, but Ethan Albarado in a world where basketball was the backdrop of a novel''s drama. .... Jonathannow Ethan Albaradorecalled everything he knew from the novel Turning Point. He remembered that Lucas Graves, the protagonist, was a basketball prodigy endowed with the ability to perfectly mimic any basketball move. This power had been granted by an old man, making Lucas a formidable player with skills akin to Kise Ryota''s perfect copy ability. Ethan thought to himself, Lucas is still a bench player like me at the moment. Tomorrow, July 2, 2010, will be pivotal as it''s the day Lucas showcases his abilities. I know that this date marks the beginning of Lucas''s rise. Our team, the Vorpal Basket, is set to face off against the Orlando Hoops, a team from Orlando, Florida, that is known for its strong reputation. Unfortunately, Vorpal Basket is considered one of the worst teams. He sighed, "Shit, what should I do?" Suddenly, an unfamiliar sensation surged through him, causing a sharp pain in his head. Ethan clutched his temples, groaning, "Aurg!!" A disembodied voice spoke up, breaking through the confusion, "Initiating system..." Ethan''s eyes widened in shock. "System?" The voice continued, "Hello, host. I''m your basketball system." Ethan''s surprise grew as he stammered, "Whoah, is this the so-called golden finger? The protagonist''s system?" The AI system responded calmly, "Yes, host. I am here to assist you in your basketball journey. My functions include providing performance analysis, skill development tips, and strategy recommendations. You can call upon me whenever you need guidance." Ethan was stunned. The reality of his situation was sinking in. He now had access to a system designed to help him become a better basketball player, just like in the novels. The possibilities seemed both thrilling and daunting as he considered how this new development could impact his upcoming game and his future in this world. Ethan was deep in thought when a voice called out from outside his room. "Ethan, are you okay?!" Startled, Ethan quickly composed himself and shouted back, "Nothing, Mom! I just slipped, hehehe." His mother''s voice carried a hint of concern. "Be careful, okay?" Ethan replied, "Okay, Mom. Thanks!" After the exchange, Ethan turned his attention back to the new reality he found himself in. He murmured to himself, "Now, I should focus on my system abilities." With a deep breath, he began to explore the system''s features, eager to understand how he could leverage this unexpected advantage to change his fate in the basketball world. Ethan focused on the system''s interface, eager to understand its features. He commanded, "System, show me how it''s done." The AI responded promptly, "Affirmative, host." [Basketball Power System] Status: Name: Ethan Albarado Level: Rookie Upgrade Points (UP): 40 Shop Points (SP): 600 Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy - 6 Layup Skill - 4 Dunk Skill - 3 Dribbling Skill C 4 Passing Skill - 5 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense - 3 Blocking Ability - 3 Steal Skill - 4 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina - 4 Endurance - 4 Speed - 4 Skills: Basic Power Shot - This skill represents the fundamental shooting technique of a player. It enables you to take and make basic shots with average accuracy, providing a solid starting point for improving your shooting skills. Basic Precision Pass - This skill covers the essential passing technique for beginners. It helps in making basic, accurate passes to teammates, ensuring you can effectively move the ball around without advanced flair. Basic Dribble - This skill provides the fundamental dribbling technique needed to control the ball while moving. It helps you navigate the court and maintain possession with average handling, laying the groundwork for more advanced dribbling skills. Shop Skills Available Skills for Purchase: Jordan Shooting Form C 1000 SP Effect: Significantly increases shooting accuracy. Kobe Shooting Form C1000 SP Effect: Enhances mid-range and long-range shooting. Windmill Dunk C 30 SP Effect: Adds a spectacular dunk to your skillset. Advanced Defense Techniques C 40 SP Effect: Improves defensive skills and blocking ability. Playmaker''s Vision C 40 SP Effect: Enhances passing accuracy and court vision. Purchasing and Upgrading Skills: Skills can be bought using Shop Points (SP). Skills can be upgraded by spending SP to enhance their effectiveness. Shop Card: Boost Cards: Temporary enhancements for attributes or skills. Example: "Speed Boost Card" (+2 Speed for 5 minutes) Example: "Shooting Accuracy Card" (+3 Shooting Accuracy for 5 minutes) Team Cards: Cards that provide boosts when used with teammates. Example: "Team Synergy Card" (Boosts all teammates'' attributes by 1 for 10 minutes) Example: "Defense Coordinator Card" (Improves team defense for 10 minutes) [YOU CAN USE SP POINTS TO BUY SHOP CARDS AND SHOP SKILLS] Ethan took a moment to process the information. He now had a clear understanding of his attributes, available skills, and how to utilize his Shop Points effectively. This new system offered him a structured path to enhance his basketball abilities and possibly transform his role on the court. Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, the dim light from the bedside lamp casting a soft glow over his surroundings. He focused intently on the system''s interface, his mind racing with the new possibilities. He spoke to the system in his thoughts, (So I can upgrade my attributes through Upgrade Points and buy shop items with Shop Points, am I right?) The AI system''s voice was calm and precise, "Yes, host." Ethan leaned back, trying to absorb the information. (How can I gain Shop Points and Upgrade Points?) The system replied, "You can gain them through quests, host." Ethan''s brow furrowed. (Quests?) The system explained, "Yes, host. Quests are tasks or challenges that, once completed, will reward you with both Shop Points and Upgrade Points. They can vary from individual achievements to team-based objectives." Ethan looked around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was sparsely decorated with simple furniturea wooden desk with a laptop, a small bookshelf, and a framed poster of a famous basketball player on the wall. The window was partially open, letting in the cool night breeze and the distant sounds of the quiet street outside. He shifted in his seat, his thoughts turning to the upcoming game. The realization of his situation began to solidify. He needed to make the most of this new opportunity and prepare for the challenges ahead. Ethan took a deep breath, adjusting to his new situation. He got up from the bed, feeling the cool wooden floor under his feet. As he walked across the room, the floorboards creaked softly. His steps were steady and confident, a big change from how he used to move. "Alright," Ethan said aloud, his voice filled with determination. "I''ll need to learn more about these quests and start preparing for tomorrow''s game." As if in response to his determination, a transparent window suddenly materialized in front of him, hovering effortlessly in mid-air. The window was sleek and modern, displaying a list of quests with clear, bold text. The window shimmered slightly, the edges glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. Ethan stared at it, his curiosity piqued. Practice Session - Basic Drills Objective: Complete 30 minutes of basic basketball drills (shooting, dribbling, layups). Reward: 20 Shop Points (SP), 5 Upgrade Points (UP) Status: Incomplete Team Bonding - Pre-Game Strategy Objective: Engage with your teammates and discuss game strategies for the upcoming match. Reward: 15 SP, 3 UP Status: Incomplete Game Day Preparation - Personal Workout Objective: Complete a personal workout routine focusing on agility and strength. Reward: 25 SP, 7 UP Status: Incomplete Showcase Skills - Impactful Performance Objective: Demonstrate your skills during the game tomorrow, aiming to make a significant impact. Reward: 40 SP, 10 UP Status: Incomplete ..... More The list appeared clearly, each quest accompanied by its objectives, rewards, and current status. Ethan''s eyes scanned the quests, noting the practical rewards for each task. He took a deep breath, recognizing the significance of these manageable goals. "Looks like I''ve got a good plan to follow." he murmured, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. Determined to make the most of his situation, Ethan glanced at the clock. It was late, but he knew he needed to start on his quests. He decided to begin with the first quest, focusing on practice drills to sharpen his skills. With a final glance at the quest list, Ethan headed to the gym, ready to embrace the challenges and opportunities ahead. Chapter 3 - 2: Protagonist Chapter 3 - 2: Protagonist Lucas Graves'' Bedroom Lucas Graves, a 14-year-old with striking black hair and yellow eyes, sat in his dimly lit bedroom, staring thoughtfully at the wall. His mind replayed the events from earlier that day, and he murmured to himself, "It''s really real, that power the old man gave meAbsolute Mimicry. Why did he give it to me?" He couldn''t help but recall the afternoon meeting with the old man. ..... A Few Hours Ago Lucas was at the outdoor basketball court, the sun casting long shadows as it dipped below the horizon. He was practicing his shots, but his attempts were lackluster, the ball occasionally swishing through the net with a soft thud. His movements were steady but unremarkable, reflecting his current skill level. As Lucas focused on his practice, he noticed an old man standing silently by the court. The old man, with a weathered face and kind eyes, watched him intently. "Hey, kiddo." the old man called out. Lucas glanced over, surprised and slightly annoyed. "What is it, gramps?" The old man didn''t miss a beat. "Your shooting form is pathetic, and your abilities are mediocre." Lucas flushed with embarrassment, his cheeks reddening. "Hey, shushut it!" he stammered, feeling self-conscious that someone was judging his practice. The old man sighed and shook his head. "Young man, why do you keep playing? You''re that student, the basketball player who''s always sitting on the bench every day." He studied Lucas''s eyes closely and continued, "But your eyes are still filled with hope to play basketball. Why?" Lucas, already feeling uncomfortable about being labeled a bench player, squared his shoulders and looked at the old man with a determined expression. "Well, isn''t it obvious? I love basketball, and I will never give up on it." He smiled, his passion evident. The old man''s gaze softened, a nostalgic smile forming on his lips. He was reminded of a friend from his past who shared the same fervor for basketballa friend who spoke with the same intensity and love for the game. The old man approached Lucas and extended a small, unassuming pill. "Young man, heretake this." Lucas eyed the pill with a mix of confusion and curiosity. "What is this?" he asked, still uncertain about the mysterious offering. The old man''s voice was steady and authoritative as he explained, "That pill contains my power. If you take it, you''ll gain the ability to mimic talents. This mimicry will allow you to soar higher than others. And not only will you be able to mimic, but you will also understand everything you mimic, enabling you to refine it to a high level. That''s how strong you can become with this pill." Lucas gulped, his eyes fixed on the small, unassuming pill. "Is this really going to do what you say it will?" he asked, skepticism and hope warring within him. Before Lucas could said further, The Old Man suddenly vanished into thin air, leaving Lucas alone on the court. Lucas stared at the empty space where the old man had been, then looked down at the pill in his hand. He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with doubts and fears. "What if this gramps scammed me? What if this pill is some kind of drug or poison?" Lucas thought, feeling a knot of anxiety in his stomach. With a deep breath, Lucas made a decision. Despite his doubts and fears about consuming a pill from a stranger, he was desperate to improve his game. His dream of becoming an NBA player was a driving force, and he decided to take the risk. Lucas swallowed the pill, his heart pounding with anxiety. "Shit, what if that old man really scammed me? What if this pill is a drug or even poison?" he thought again and again, his mind racing. He glanced around, expecting to feel something, but to his relief, nothing seemed to change immediately. "Nothing''s happening," he murmured. "Thank God." He sighed in relief, though a part of him remained wary. "Maybe that gramps was lying after all. This pill might just be ordinary." Just then, Lucas''s gaze fell on a nearby group of people playing basketball. One player, in particular, caught his attention with his impressive footwork and precise shooting form. As Lucas watched, something strange happenedhe felt an uncanny clarity and understanding about the player''s movements. "What? I can understand everything about this man... how?" Lucas said aloud, his eyes widening in amazement. He shifted his focus to other players around him. As he observed their movements, he realized he could comprehend their techniques and skills with equal clarity. His mind was rapidly processing this new information, absorbing every detail with an almost supernatural precision. However, as Lucas continued to focus intently on multiple players, he suddenly felt a sharp, throbbing pain in his head. He touched his nose and felt a trickle of blood. "What''s this?" he muttered, noticing the nosebleed. The pain in his head intensified, and Lucas felt dizzy. He clutched his head, and the basketball he had been holding fell from his grasp. "I''m feeling dizzy." he murmured, struggling to stay upright. After a few minutes of intense discomfort, the pain gradually subsided. Lucas took deep, steadying breaths and examined the situation. "So, if I keep focusing on too many people, my brain can''t handle it." he concluded, the realization dawning on him. He glanced at the ring on his side and then at the basketball that had dropped. Determined to test his new ability, Lucas picked up the ball. He closed his eyes and visualized the techniques he had observedmimicking the footwork and shooting forms he had seen. As he opened his eyes, Lucas practiced the moves, attempting to replicate the skills he had absorbed. He felt a surge of excitement and confidence as he realized the potential of his new power. Lucas stood in the middle of the court, clutching the basketball with newfound confidence. "It really worked! That old man wasn''t lying!!!" he shouted, his voice filled with amazement. Nearby, a group of people practicing basketball paused and turned to look at him. Their expressions ranged from confusion to concern as they watched Lucas talking to himself with a mix of excitement and disbelief. One person, pausing mid-dribble, turned to their friend and said, "Who is he talking to?" "I don''t know," another replied, eyeing Lucas with suspicion. "Some kind of ghost or something?" A third person, visibly unsettled, whispered, "Do you think this gym is haunted?" The others began to murmur in agreement, their eyes darting around nervously. "Fuck, don''t scare me." one of them said, shivering slightly. Lucas, oblivious to the whispers and worried glances, was too absorbed in his own realization to notice the commotion he had caused. He was busy testing out his newly acquired skills, his movements becoming increasingly fluid and precise as he mimicked the techniques he had observed. However, despite the impressive mimicry, it was clear that he was still a beginner. His form, while accurate in replication, lacked the natural ease and confidence of someone with experience. Despite lacking innate talent, Lucas had always been committed to training, pushing himself to improve. But now, with his new ability of Absolute Mimicry, he had a remarkable tool at his disposal. Thanks to his intense training from a young age and his ongoing dedication to basketball, he could master these techniques in just minutes, transforming his hard-earned skills into something extraordinary. As he continued to practice, he occasionally glanced at the surrounding players, now more mindful of their reaction. Ahem, Lucas thought, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. "(I should be more mindful of them. I don''t want them to think I''m crazy.)" He took a deep breath and composed himself, forcing a casual demeanor. Lucas gave a nervous chuckle and tried to blend in with the environment, making a conscious effort to avoid any further odd behavior that might attract attention. ..... Back to the Present ... Ethan''s Bedroom Ethan was in his bedroom, dressed in casual nightwearcomfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt. The room was dimly lit by a desk lamp and the soft glow of a nightlight. His yellow hair was slightly messy, and his blue eyes shone with determination as he prepared for the challenges ahead. With a determined look on his face, Ethan took a deep breath and shouted, "I''m ready!!!!" ... Lucas''s Bedroom Meanwhile, in his bedroom, Lucas was also dressed in casual clotheswearing a hoodie and sweatpants. The room was similarly lit by a soft desk lamp and the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the window. Lucas''s black hair was tousled, and his yellow eyes were bright with resolve. He stood in front of his mirror, making sure everything was in place. With a burst of enthusiasm and focus, Lucas declared, "I''m ready!!!!" Both Ethan and Lucas, despite the late hour and being in their ordinary clothes, expressed their readiness for what lay ahead with equal fervor and determination. To be continue Chapter 4 - 3: Skills Chapter 4 - 3: Skills Timeline: July 2, 2010 Jonathan, now inhabiting the body of Ethan Albarado, sat on the edge of his bed, the morning light filtering through the curtains. His mind buzzed with thoughts about the upcoming day and the game that awaited. As he stretched and tried to shake off the last remnants of sleep, he mentally called out to his system. "System, open my status." A transparent window appeared in his vision, displaying his current stats. Status: Name: Ethan Albarado Level: Rookie Upgrade Points (UP): 40 Shop Points (SP): 600 Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy - 6 Layup Skill - 4 Dunk Skill - 3 Dribbling Skill - 4 Passing Skill - 5 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense - 3 Blocking Ability - 3 Steal Skill - 4 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina - 4 Endurance - 4 Speed - 4 Skills: Basic Power Shot - This skill represents the fundamental shooting technique of a player. It enables you to take and make basic shots with average accuracy, providing a solid starting point for improving your shooting skills. Basic Precision Pass - This skill covers the essential passing technique for beginners. It helps in making basic, accurate passes to teammates, ensuring you can effectively move the ball around without advanced flair. Basic Dribble - This skill provides the fundamental dribbling technique needed to control the ball while moving. It helps you navigate the court and maintain possession with average handling, laying the groundwork for more advanced dribbling skills. Ethan studied the attributes carefully, noting the areas where he was already decent and others that needed improvement. "System," he asked mentally, "can you explain Upgrade Points to me? I know that they can be used to enhance attributes, but does adding 1 UP directly increase the attribute by 1 point?" The system responded with a calm, robotic tone, "No, Host. To increase an attribute by 1 point, you must use 2 Upgrade Points." "So, if I want to upgrade my defense, it will cost me 2 UP to increase it by 1 point?" Ethan clarified. "Yes, Host," the system confirmed. Ethan sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and slight disappointment. "I see. It''s not as overpowered as I thought, but it''s still pretty versatile and can be quite powerful." As he pondered his next moves, he felt a surge of excitement and anticipation. Today was a big day, not just for him but for the entire team. It was a chance to prove himself, to use this new life and these newfound abilities to pursue his dream of becoming a professional basketball player. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: he loved basketball, and he was ready to give it his all. Ethan pondered his options, contemplating how best to utilize his Upgrade Points. He knew that enhancing his dribbling skills and speed would be crucial for making an impact on the court. "Since I have 40 Upgrade Points," Ethan thought, "I should focus on improving my dribbling skills and speed. My shooting accuracy is already pretty good, probably because I practiced a lot even while I was in a wheelchair. That''s why it''s at 10, which is above average. But my dribbling and speed could use some work." Ethan spoke aloud, his voice filled with determination, "I''ll use 10 Upgrade Points on my dribbling skills, which are currently at 4. This should bring them up to 9. And then I''ll use the remaining 10 Upgrade Points on my speed, also raising it from 4 to 9. That should make me faster, not lightning-fast, but definitely above average." As he allocated the points, he could feel a subtle shift in his body, as if his muscles and reflexes were adjusting to the newfound enhancements. It was a strange but empowering sensation. He then addressed the system, "System, with these upgrades, where do I stand now?" The system responded with its usual calm tone, "Host, the average untalented basketball player has attributes around 6 points. With your dribbling skills and speed now at 9 points, you are above average for an untalented player, though still not at the level of professionals or highly talented individuals." Ethan winced slightly at the system''s blunt assessment, but he quickly shrugged it off. "Ouch, that hurts," he muttered, but deep down, he felt encouraged. This was just the beginning, and he was already making progress. He knew that with hard work and the help of the system, he could continue to improve and maybe even surpass those who were more naturally talented. "(I won''t use my remaining upgrade for now)" As Ethan sat at his bed, he have a deep focus in his eyes as he considered the best use of his Shop Points. With 600 Shop Points at his disposal, he knew he had some exciting options available to him. "I have 600 Shop Points," Ethan murmured, his mind racing through possibilities. "What should I spend them on?" The system responded promptly, "Affirmative, Host. Here is the list of items worth 500 Shop Points." A transparent window appeared in front of him, detailing several intriguing options. Ethan''s eyes were drawn to three particular items: Shop List Worth 500 Shop Points: Shaquille O''Neal Post Moves (Intermediate Level) - 500 SP Effect: Enhances post moves and scoring in the paint, making it easier to score against defenders in close range. Magic Johnson Passing Vision (Intermediate Level) - 500 SP Effect: Increases passing accuracy and vision, making it easier to find and assist teammates. Boosts overall playmaking abilities. Hakeem Olajuwon Dream Shake (Intermediate Level) - 500 SP Effect: Improves footwork and agility in the post, making it harder for defenders to block or steal the ball. Vince Carter''s High Flyer (Intermediate Level) - 500 SP Effect: Increases dunk skill and aerial agility. Adds the ability to perform spectacular dunks and high-flying moves. Dirk Nowitzki''s Fadeaway (Intermediate Level) - 500 SP Effect: Perfects the fadeaway shot with improved accuracy and grace. Greatly enhances mid-range shooting. More.... Ethan scanned the list, contemplating each option. His thoughts were particularly drawn to the Hakeem Olajuwon Dream Shake and Magic Johnson Passing Vision. "Man, there are so many great options," Ethan said aloud. "But what really intrigues me are Hakeem Olajuwon''s Dream Shake and Magic Johnson''s Passing Vision." He contemplated for a moment, then said to himself, "I only have 500 Shop Points, so I''ll need to choose wisely. The Magic Johnson Passing Vision is legendary and significantly boosts playmaking compared to the ordinary Playmaker''s Vision. I think I''ll invest in that." With a decisive click, Ethan selected Magic Johnson Passing Vision. Instantly, he felt a surge of knowledge and experience flood his mind. It was as though he had lived through the legendary player''s experiences, gaining profound insights into passing and court vision. "Damn," Ethan muttered, amazed at the sensation. "And this is just the intermediate level. How awesome is this!" As he absorbed the newfound knowledge, he felt a boost in confidence and excitement. He was now equipped with a skill that would elevate his game significantly. Ethan knew this was just the beginning. The upcoming game would be his chance to put these new abilities to the test and show what he was truly capable of. Ethan looked forward to the challenges ahead, ready to embrace his new role with enthusiasm and determination. The game was just hours away, and he was prepared to give it everything he had. Ethan stood up from his bed, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. He opened his bedroom door and made his way to the living room, where he found his family gathered. Despite being Jonathan Brandit in Ethan Albarado''s body, the fusion of their memories made the transition seamless; it felt like he had always been Ethan. In the living room, his parents were seated on the couch, engaged in a quiet conversation, while his little sister, Anna, was sitting on the floor, playing with some toys. His mother Elle was seated on the couch, reading a book, her yellow hair catching the light and adding a warm hue to the room. His father Alfred Albarado, with his black hair and blue eyes, was lounging in an armchair, reading the newspaper. They both looked up as Ethan approached, their expressions a mix of curiosity and warmth. Anna looked up as Ethan entered the room. At 10 years old, she had inherited their father''s black hair and tanned skin, giving her a distinctive appearance compared to Ethan''s lighter complexion and yellow hair, which he inherited from their mother. Ethan''s blue eyes were a mirror of their father''s, while Anna''s brown eyes resembled their mother''s. Anna looked up and smiled as Ethan entered. "Good morning, Ethan!" she said cheerfully. Ethan returned the smile, his heart warmed by the familiar sight of his family. "Morning, Anna." he replied, his voice carrying a genuine warmth. His mother Elle Albarado set her book aside and said, "Good morning, Ethan. How are you feeling today?" Ethan replied with a relaxed tone, "I''m doing well, Mom. Just excited for the game today." His father Alfred, looking over his newspaper, added, "That''s good to hear. Remember to stay focused and give it your best." As he sat down with his family, Ethan glanced at Anna, who was still absorbed in her game. Her innocence and joy were a refreshing reminder of the simple pleasures in life, and he felt a renewed sense of determination. Today was a big day, not just for him but for his whole team, and he was ready to face the challenges ahead with a clear mind and a strong heart. ..... Meanwhile, outside Lucas Graves'' house, the air was cool and crisp as the sun began to rise. The neighborhood was quiet, with only the occasional rustle of leaves and distant chirping of birds breaking the silence. The basketball hoop attached to the side of the house stood like a sentinel, waiting for its moment of action. Lucas stood at the edge of the driveway, the basketball in his hands. His focus was unwavering as he prepared to put his newly acquired abilities to the test. The pill he took from the old man had given him the power of Absolute Mimicry, and now it was time to see how well he could apply it. Lucas looked determined as he started practicing. He dribbled the ball between his legs smoothly and in control. The ball bounced steadily against the pavement, making a soft sound in the quiet morning. Lucas then started dribbling the ball behind his back. He moved smoothly, changing direction with ease. It was as if his body knew exactly what to do, each dribble helping him improve his skills. As Lucas dribbled, he focused on his shooting. He stayed balanced and steady, keeping his eyes locked on the hoop. With a quick and controlled motion, he released the ball. It flew in a smooth arc, hit the rim perfectly, and swished through the net. Lucas felt proud as he watched the ball go in. He kept repeating the motion, each shot getting smoother and more accurate. His movements felt sharper, and he could sense the power of his mimicry kicking in. It was like he was absorbing the skills of the players he had watched and making them his own. As he practiced, Lucas couldn''t help but notice the difference in his performance. The techniques he had once struggled with now seemed second nature. His dribbling was sharper, his shooting more accurate. The progress was exhilarating. A few neighbors passing by took notice of Lucas''s impressive skills. Some exchanged curious glances, while others simply nodded in approval. It wasn''t every day that someone displayed such remarkable talent in their driveway. Lucas paused for a moment, catching his breath and wiping sweat from his brow. He looked up at the sky, a smile spreading across his face. The new abilities granted by the old man were proving to be a game-changer, and Lucas felt more confident than ever about his future on the court. "I''m ready," Lucas said to himself, his voice filled with excitement and determination. "Today''s game is going to be something special." With renewed energy and focus, Lucas continued his practice, eagerly anticipating the challenges and triumphs that awaited him on the basketball court. To be continue Chapter 5 - 4: Water Boy Chapter 5 - 4: Water Boy July 2, 2010 Ethan Albarado stood on the sidelines of the gym at Oak Hill Academy, in Mouth of Wilson, Virginia, where the exhibition game was set to take place. The gym buzzed with anticipation as the crowd slowly filled the bleachers, eager to see the match between the local favorite team, Vorpal Basket, and the visiting Orlando Hoops. Ethan glanced at his teammates warming up on the court. Despite their good looks and confidence, he knew their skills were, at best, average. "Seems like Lucas Graves is still not here." Ethan thought, wondering about the Protagonist of the story Ethan then turned his attention inward, communicating with the system in his mind. "System, can you analyze their status?" The system responded promptly, bringing up detailed information about each player: Evan Cooper (Point Guard) Level: Slightly Above Average Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 7 Layup Skill: 7 Dunk Skill: 5 Dribbling Skill: 8 Passing Skill: 8 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 7 Blocking Ability: 5 Steal Skill: 7 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 7 Endurance: 7 Speed: 7 Skills: Basic Ball Handling: Foundation for controlling the ball under pressure, useful for setting up plays. Basic Court Vision: Developing the ability to read the game and make strategic passes. Basic Decision-Making: Working on making quicker and better choices during gameplay. ....... Josh Turner (Shooting Guard) Level: Average Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 6 Layup Skill: 5 Dunk Skill: 4 Dribbling Skill: 5 Passing Skill: 5 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 6 Blocking Ability: 5 Steal Skill: 6 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 6 Endurance: 6 Speed: 6 Skills: Basic Shooting Form: Average shooting mechanics with potential for improvement. Basic Scoring Instinct: Lacks instinct for creating scoring opportunities, struggles with shot selection. but with room for growth. Basic Defensive Awareness: Often out of position on defense, slow to react but can improve reaction time. ...... Aiden White (Small Forward) Level: Average Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 6 Layup Skill: 6 Dunk Skill: 6 Dribbling Skill: 6 Passing Skill: 6 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 6 Blocking Ability: 6 Steal Skill: 6 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 6 Endurance: 6 Speed: 6 Skills: Basic Athleticism: Shows good natural athletic ability but needs to refine consistency. Basic Versatility: Can play multiple positions, but lacks effectiveness in any specific role. Basic Consistency: Performance fluctuates, struggles to maintain a steady level of play. But has areas for improvement. ....... Ryan Taylor (Power Forward) Level: Average Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 5 Layup Skill: 6 Dunk Skill: 5 Dribbling Skill: 4 Passing Skill: 5 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 7 Blocking Ability: 7 Steal Skill: 6 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 7 Endurance: 7 Speed: 6 Skills: Basic Post Moves: Very limited scoring moves in the post, needs significant development. Basic Rebounding: Average skills in securing rebounds with room for improvement. Basic Hustle: Puts in effort, but often lacks the skills to capitalize on opportunities. ........ Brandon Young (Center) Level: Average Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 5 Layup Skill: 6 Dunk Skill: 6 Dribbling Skill: 3 Passing Skill: 4 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 7 Blocking Ability: 8 Steal Skill: 5 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 7 Endurance: 6 Speed: 5 Basic Rebounding: Average skills in securing rebounds, often out-muscled by opponents. Basic Shot-Blocking: Limited shot-blocking ability, needs to work on timing and positioning. Basic Post Defense: Struggles with defending against stronger, more skilled players. As Ethan reviewed the stats, he noted the strengths and weaknesses of each player. Despite their flaws, they had potential, and with the right guidance and training, they could improve. However, Ethan couldn''t help but feel the pressure mounting. The upcoming game against Orlando Hoops, a team known for its talented roster, was going to be a tough challenge. "(Our team is weak, but there''s definitely room for improvement.)" he thought. He couldn''t help but feel a bit concerned about their chances against a stronger opponent like Orlando Hoops. The clock ticked closer to game time, and Ethan continued to survey the gym. He knew Lucas would arrive soon after all, he was the protagonist of this world. Still, Ethan was resolute; he didn''t plan on losing this game just because it was written in the novel. "But they still lose," Ethan thought, "and I don''t intend to let that happen. No matter what the story says, we''re going to win." Until Lucas arrived, Ethan resolved to make the most of his own skills and the system''s support. He was determined to use every advantage he had to turn the game around and secure a victory for his team. As the teams prepared to face off, the tension in the air was palpable. The game promised to be a defining moment for Vorpal Basket, and Ethan was ready to rise to the occasion, even if it meant starting from the sidelines as the "water boy." ......... Lucas Graves, already running behind schedule, rushed through his front door, clutching his bag tightly. His jersey and school uniform jostled inside as he dashed down the street towards the bus stop. "I''m such an idiot," Lucas muttered, frustration evident in his voice. "I should''ve planned better. Now I''m going to miss part of the exhibition." As he reached the bus stop, Lucas scanned the area, hoping he hadn''t missed the bus. To his relief, he saw the bus pulling up in the distance. He sprinted towards it, heart pounding, and jumped on just as the doors were closing. Lucas found an empty seat and sat down, trying to catch his breath. His mind raced with thoughts about the game and the pressure of arriving late. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "Alright, Lucas, just stay focused," he said quietly to himself. "You''re not just going to the game; you''ve got to make an impact." The bus ride seemed to take forever, and Lucas mentally prepared himself for the challenge ahead. He reviewed his recent practice and the skills he had been developing, trying to shake off the anxiety of being late. Finally, the bus arrived at Oak Hill Academy. Lucas hurried off and made his way to the gym. As he approached, he could hear the buzz of excitement and the sound of basketballs bouncing on the court. "Here we go." Lucas said, trying to muster a confident smile as he entered the gym. ......... As Lucas Graves approached the gymnasium of Oak Hill Academy, the echo of basketballs bouncing and the murmur of excited voices filled the air. He navigated through the bustling corridor, finally reaching the locker room where his teammates were preparing. The faint scent of sweat and the sharp tang of freshly polished wooden floors greeted him as he entered. Lucas found a spot in the corner and started changing into his uniform. His movements were hurried but deliberate as he pulled on his jersey and adjusted his shorts. The hustle and bustle of the pre-game routine surrounded himplayers chatting, stretching, and going through their final drills. From across the room, Ethan Albarado stood by a bench, watching the team get ready. He saw Lucas Graves, the main character of the novel, and focused on him. Ethan was in his dark blue Vorpal Basket uniform with red and white trim, standing out against the dark locker room. He had noticed Lucas''s arrival and was eager to connect with him. Ethan walked over to Lucas with purpose. His footsteps were steady and confident, making a slight echo in the busy locker room. While other players went about their routines, Ethan''s approach was clear and intentional. "Wass up, mate?" Ethan said, his voice carrying a friendly tone as he came to a stop beside Lucas. The casual greeting was accompanied by a warm smile, designed to break the ice. Lucas looked up from his locker, momentarily surprised by the sudden appearance of Ethan. He blinked, trying to place the familiar face amidst the pre-game chaos. A flicker of recognition crossed his features as he processed Ethan''s words. "Hello, Ethan." Lucas responded with a polite smile, his voice friendly but slightly guarded. He continued to pull on his jersey, the fabric rustling as he moved. Ethan chuckled softly. "You know me?" Lucas nodded, the smile on his face widening slightly. "We might not have interacted much, but I know your name. It was mentioned by the coach during our practice sessions." Ethan''s face brightened with recognition. "AHAHAHA yeah yeah, I remember now." he said with a laugh, trying to make light of the situation. As Ethan observed Lucas, he noted the kindheartedness in Lucas''s demeanor. Despite the rush and pressure of the pre-game environment, Lucas''s smile was genuine, reflecting his positive attitude. Ethan thought to himself, "Now that I recall Ethan''s memories, even though Lucas and I were both bench players and water boys, we never really interacted until now. Lucas remembering my name because the coach mentioned itdespite his serious face, he''s a kind-hearted person with a never-lose-hope attitude." The locker room was abuzz with the final preparations before the game. Players were preparing with focused energy: some were talking excitedly, while others were concentrating quietly. The room was filled with the sounds of chatter, shouts of encouragement, and the steady thud of sneakers against the floor, all contributing to the energetic atmosphere. .......... Ethan Albarado''s POV The locker room buzzed with anticipation as the team prepared for the game. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the faint whiff of fresh sneakers. Players moved around the room, some joking to lighten the mood, others lacing up their shoes in focused silence. The room was a blend of metal lockers, benches, and the soft hum of fluorescent lights, casting a stark glow over the scene. I stood next to Lucas Graves, who was finishing changing into his jersey. He looked pumped, a mix of excitement and determination on his face. The noise and energy around us were almost palpable, a mix of nervous chatter and the rustling of uniforms. So, here we are in the locker room, and I find myself talking with Lucas Graves, the protagonist of this story. It''s surreal, really. I can''t believe I''m interacting with him. Lucas turned to me, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "You know, I''m really excited about this game." I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the situation. "Yeah, me too. But, you know, we''re just water boys... bench players." I said it with a hint of curiosity, wondering how he would respond. Lucas smiled, a determined glint in his eyes. "Well, even though I''m a bench player, I still won''t give up. I love playing basketball, and besides, we always get subbed in every 3rd quarter." His optimism made me smile. As expected of Lucas Graves, the protagonist of this story, I thought. "(Well, You are the only one who always get subbed in 3rd quarter but still ... I won''t give up either. This time, I won''t live with regret.)" I looked at Lucas, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie. "Damn right," I said, grinning. "And who knows? Maybe they''ll sub us in early." I couldn''t help but think about what I knew from the story. In the 2nd quarter, two of the starting players would get injured, leaving only three. That''s when Lucas Graves and another bench player, whose name escapes me, would get subbed in. That was the moment Lucas would use his power, Absolute Mimicry. He could copy the skills of top players and refine them, making him incredibly powerful. But using that power wasn''t without its costs. It drained him, causing nosebleeds and fatigue. That''s why I admired Lucas''s journey in the novelhe trained hard to handle the side effects of his power. In this moment, I felt a surge of determination. Lucas might be the protagonist, but I wasn''t going to sit on the sidelines and watch. I was going to make my mark too. Lucas caught my eye, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Ethan? Ethan?" I blinked, realizing I had been lost in my own mind. "Oh, sorry." I replied, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. Lucas grinned, his enthusiasm infectious. "It''s okay. I feel tense too. We''re playing against Orlando Hoops, one of the top basketball schools. But I''m still excited to play against these pro players!" His excitement was contagious. I couldn''t help but smile back. "Yeah, damn right." I said, feeling a spark of excitement myself. Just then, a voice cut through the room, laden with skepticism. "Like hell, you two are playing." I saw Coonie Smith coming toward us. He had short, messy black hair and looked a bit annoyed. Like us, Coonie was a bench player, but his attitude was far from positive. Coonie smirked, crossing his arms. "We''re bench players. Do you really think we can play just like them?" Lucas didn''t miss a beat, his voice firm and full of conviction. "Even if we''re not as good as them, I''m still going to play!" He said it with such energy that it made you believe he could actually change the game''s outcome. Coonie raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by Lucas''s intensity. "Okay, dude, you''re freaking me out." I laughed, the tension in the room lightening a bit. Their exchange was a reminder of the different attitudes on the team. Lucas''s passion was a stark contrast to Coonie''s resigned skepticism. Suddenly, the door to the locker room swung open, and Coach Fred Mason walked in. The room immediately went quiet. Coach Mason didn''t look like a typical leader; he had a big belly and a lazy attitude, which didn''t inspire much confidence. His coaching methods were often criticized, and our team''s poor performance showed that. "Okay, everyone, time to move out." Coach Mason announced, his voice echoing slightly in the locker room. There was a brief, charged silence as everyone looked up. His presence, despite his shortcomings, still commanded a certain level of authority, mainly because he was the coach. Let me tell you all about Fred Mason, our coach, wasn''t known for his great strategies. He had a big belly and a lazy demeanor, which didn''t inspire much confidence. It''s no wonder our team, Vorpal Basket, was considered one of the worst. Our starters, believing they were the best, rarely put in the effort to improve. This was frustrating for me because our only win is one game, and that was a fluke against Raptors Zone''s bench players during a practice match. The fact that our starters struggled against another team''s reserves spoke volumes about our situation. But today felt different as I knew the outcome of this novel; this was the start of Lucas Graves'' story, the moment where he would begin to shine. But something in me shifted. This wasn''t just his story anymoreit was mine too. As an extra in this world, my destiny will always been on the sidelines, but not anymore. I was determined to become a star player, to carve out my own place in the narrative. Starting from now, I would make my mark and change the course of the story. This was the beginning of my journey, and I was ready to embrace it. As we walked towards the court, the noise of the crowd grew louder, a reminder of the challenge ahead. But with Lucas and me, I felt ready to face it head-on. For I am not a Water Boy anymore .... I am Ethan Albarado and this is my story. To be continue. Chapter 6 - 5: Orlando Hoops Chapter 6 - 5: Orlando Hoops We were now in the court, the atmosphere electric with anticipation. I glanced at the other side, where our opponents for today, the Orlando Hoops, were warming up. Their aura alone radiated confidence and skill, making it clear that they wouldn''t be an easy feat to overcome. The gym was packed with spectators, the noise of the crowd creating a buzz that vibrated through the floor. The smell of fresh popcorn and the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished hardwood added to the sensory overload. Banners and school colors adorned the walls, celebrating the spirit of competition. I mentally called upon the system embedded in my mind. "System, analyze all their abilities. What''s their status?" The system responded promptly. "Affirmative, host... initiating... complete!" The data displayed before me, confirming what I already suspected: these players were elite, top-tier athletes. Alec Storm (Point Guard) Level: Elite Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 12 Layup Skill: 12 Dunk Skill: 8 Dribbling Skill: 15 Passing Skill: 15 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 12 Blocking Ability: 8 Steal Skill: 12 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 14 Endurance: 14 Speed: 15 Effectiveness: Elite Playmaker: Exceptional court vision and precision passing. Game Control: Known for controlling the tempo and making game-changing decisions. .... Mason Hayes (Shooting Guard) Level: Elite Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 15 Layup Skill: 12 Dunk Skill: 8 Dribbling Skill: 12 Passing Skill: 10 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 10 Blocking Ability: 8 Steal Skill: 10 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 12 Endurance: 12 Speed: 12 Effectiveness: Elite Shooter: Incredible range and accuracy. Clutch Scorer: Dangerous in clutch situations, with a knack for making critical shots under pressure. .... Julian Cross (Small Forward) Level: Elite Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 14 Layup Skill: 14 Dunk Skill: 14 Dribbling Skill: 12 Passing Skill: 10 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 13 Blocking Ability: 10 Steal Skill: 12 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 14 Endurance: 14 Speed: 12 Effectiveness: Versatile Forward: Combination of athleticism, scoring ability, and defensive prowess. Driving Ability: Excellent at driving to the basket. Defensive Specialist: Capable of defending multiple positions. .... Ethan Blake (Power Forward) Level: Elite Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 12 Layup Skill: 14 Dunk Skill: 15 Dribbling Skill: 9 Passing Skill: 8 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 13 Blocking Ability: 12 Steal Skill: 8 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 14 Endurance: 14 Speed: 10 Effectiveness: Post Skills: Powerful and skilled in the post with excellent rebounding and scoring capabilities. Strong Defender: Ability to dominate the paint. .... Jaxon Wells (Center) Level: Elite Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 9 Layup Skill: 14 Dunk Skill: 15 Dribbling Skill: 6 Passing Skill: 8 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 15 Blocking Ability: 15 Steal Skill: 7 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 12 Endurance: 12 Speed: 8 Effectiveness: Dominant Paint Presence: Exceptional shot-blocking, rebounding, and scoring inside. Physicality: Known for controlling the game from inside, using size and strength to overpower opponents. As I absorbed the detailed stats, I couldn''t help but feel a mix of awe and determination. These players were top-tier, each with unique strengths that made them formidable opponents. As we took our positions on the court, the noise of the crowd reached a crescendo. The Orlando Hoops were a sight to behold, moving with a practiced precision that spoke of countless hours of training and natural talent. They exuded an air of superiority, but I refused to be intimidated. ........ [3rd Pov] Alec Storm looked at Evan Cooper and approached him with a confident stride, the polished hardwood floor of the arena reflecting the determined steps of both players. The lights overhead cast a bright, almost theatrical glow on the court, illuminating the vibrant team colors and the intense expressions of the athletes. The roar of the crowd was a pulsating wave of noise, a mix of cheers, shouts, and the rhythmic clapping of hands. The air was electric with anticipation, the scent of popcorn and sweat mingling in the background. The Orlando Hoops stood tall and imposing, their movements fluid and synchronized, a testament to their rigorous training and inherent skill. Alec extended his hand towards Evan, smiling confidently. "Let''s have a good match." he said clearly, his voice rising above the noise of the crowd. His eyes showed a clear challenge. Evan took Alec''s hand, gripping it firmly. "Right." he said, looking Alec straight in the eye. The handshake was brief but powerful, a silent challenge between them. As their hands parted, Alec''s smile widened, turning slightly smug. "But we''re still going to win." he said with a casual tone, but his confidence was clear. Evan''s eyes narrowed, and he tightened his jaw, feeling a surge of determination. "We''ll see about that!" he said firmly, his voice full of resolve. He squared his shoulders and stood tall, ready to show what he and his team could do. Around them, the other players took their positions, the tension between the two teams almost palpable. The whistle blew, signaling the start of the game. It was time to show what Vorpal Basket was made of. The stage was set, and as the ball was thrown into the air for the tip-off, every player on the court knew that this match would be a true test of skill, strategy, and heart. .... The referee blew the whistle, signaling the start of the game. The ball was thrown into the air, and the jump ball began. Our center, Brandon Young, leaped with all his might but was outmatched by Jaxon Wells, who tipped the ball back to Alec Storm. The game was on. From the sidelines, I watched intently, analyzing their movements. Alec Storm controlled the ball effortlessly, directing his teammates with quick, sharp passes. Mason Hayes moved with deadly precision, sinking shots from all over the court. Julian Cross drove to the basket with explosive power, while Ethan Blake and Jaxon Wells dominated the paint with their physical presence. I couldn''t help but feel a twinge of envy, but I shook it off. This was my chance to learn, to observe, and to prepare for when my moment came. I glanced over at Lucas, who was also watching the game with intense focus. He seemed unfazed by the skill of our opponents, his eyes gleaming with determination. The scoreboard showed a clear gap: Orlando Hoops 20, Vorpal Basket 5. The difference was huge and disheartening. Even though it was still the first quarter, it felt like we were way behind. Our starters were having a tough time, and their play seemed disorganized compared to the smooth, precise moves of our opponents. The contrast was like night and day, and it felt like a heavy burden on my shoulders. I gritted my teeth, my resolve hardening. This was our reality, but it didn''t have to define us. I would use this moment to fuel my determination, to bridge the gap between us and the elite. And when the time came, I would make sure to seize it with everything I had. ...... Evan Cooper, donning the number 9 on his back, with his black, wavy hair bouncing with every move, gripped the ball firmly. As the ball captain of Vorpal Basket, he was keenly aware of the daunting challenge ahead. Dribbling the ball with purpose, his eyes darted around, assessing his teammates and the opposition. The frustration was palpable, and he couldn''t help but think, "Tsk, we are so very lacking... These bastards look down on us!!" Across from Evan, the Orlando Hoops'' starting five were lined up and ready to play. Alec Storm, the point guard, stood tall and confident, his eyes moving between Evan and his teammates. Mason Hayes, the shooting guard, was in a defensive stance with a smug grin. Julian Cross, the small forward, was close by, his athletic build poised for action. Ethan Blake, the power forward, was positioned near the basket, a solid force. Jaxon Wells, the center, loomed over the court, his size making him a significant presence in the paint. As he approached the three-point line, Evan''s gaze was locked on Mason Hayes, the Orlando Hoops'' shooting guard. Mason''s stance was low, his body coiled like a spring, ready to pounce. The smirk on Mason''s face only added to Evan''s resolve. Evan started to dribble, his movements sharp and deliberate. He dribbled to his right, then executed a crossover, sending the ball swiftly from his right hand to his left. His goal was to create separation from Mason Hayes. Mason responded with equal speed, his feet shuffling in perfect sync with Evan''s dribble. The crowd''s murmur grew louder, the tension palpable. With a quick behind-the-back dribble, Evan tried to throw Mason off balance, but Mason was right there, mirroring Evan''s every move. Mason''s grin widened as he taunted, "You thought you could escape from me!" Evan gritted his teeth, his frustration mounting. "Tsk!!" he muttered under his breath. He pushed forward, attempting to drive past Mason. As he neared the paint, Ethan Blake and Jaxon Wells positioned themselves to protect the basket. Evan charged towards the rim, using his left shoulder to shield the ball. Julian Cross, quick on his feet, adjusted his position to cut off Evan''s path. With a powerful leap, Evan aimed for a layup. The ball left his hands with a hopeful flick, but Mason Hayes leaped alongside him, his hand perfectly timed to contest the shot. The ball hit the back of the rim with a harsh clang and bounced away. Evan landed heavily, his frustration clear as he looked up. The crowd''s reaction was a mix of disappointment and excitement. Mason, now back on the defensive, gave a small nod of satisfaction. The scoreboard flashed 20-5 in favor of the Orlando Hoops. The stark difference in skill and execution was evident. Evan''s failed attempt was a sharp reminder of the formidable challenge they faced. As he glanced at his teammatesJosh Turner, Aiden White, Ryan Taylor, and Brandon Younghe saw their faces etched with determination and concern. Josh Turner, the shooting guard, stood on the wing, his eyes flicking between the court and Evan. Aiden White, the small forward, prepared himself for the next play, his stance alert. Ryan Taylor, the power forward, was ready to rebound if needed. Brandon Young, the center, remained stationed near the paint, trying to stay focused despite the pressure. The game was still young, but Evan''s failed attempt underscored the stark difference in skill between the two teams. The scoreboard, now showing a 20-5 lead for the Orlando Hoops, was a harsh reminder of the challenge ahead. Evan knew he had to regroup and refocus if he wanted to turn the tide of the game. Alec Storm dribbled the ball smoothly up the court, his movements a blend of grace and power. His sleek, blue jersey shimmered under the arena lights as he maneuvered with effortless control. The crowd''s energy was electric, but Alec''s focus was unwavering, his mind sharp and analytical. As he surveyed the court, Alec''s thoughts were decidedly dismissive. "(It looks like I won''t need to use my full capabilities. This team is more pathetic than I thought.)" His eyes flicked toward the Vorpal Basket players, their struggle apparent in their body language and movements. "(Even though I heard their reputation of being weak, I didn''t expect them to be this bad. I thought they were just an average weak team, but nothey''re the worst. Maybe I''m just overestimating this team.)" With a quick flick of his wrist, Alec passed the ball to Mason Hayes, who was positioned beyond the arc. Mason caught it effortlessly, his eyes already scanning the court for his next move. Alec didn''t even need to put in much effort; his opponents seemed to be floundering, their defense disorganized and sluggish. The Vorpal Basket players, visibly disheartened, were struggling to keep up. Evan Cooper had just failed a drive to the basket, and the defensive rotation was out of sync. Alec took a moment to enjoy the ease with which he was able to direct the flow of the game, his confidence growing with each second. Julian Cross, moving fluidly, set up on the wing, ready to receive a pass if needed. Ethan Blake and Jaxon Wells were already positioning themselves for the inevitable rebound or defensive stand. Alec''s strategy was simple: exploit the weaknesses, maintain control, and make the game look effortless. To be continue Chapter 7 - 6: This is Talent Chapter 7 - 6: This is Talent The tension in the gym was palpable as Vorpal Basket faced off against the Orlando Hoops. The crowd roared with every play, but the energy was noticeably one-sided. Orlando Hoops was dominating, and it was evident to everyone watching, including Lucas Graves, who sat on the bench, his fingers tapping impatiently on his knees. Lucas''s heart pounded in sync with the dribbles echoing through the court. His eyes were locked onto the game, analyzing every movement, every decision, every mistake. The Vorpal Basket starters were struggling, outclassed by the sheer talent and precision of their opponents. The scoreboard reflected the harsh realityVorpal Basket was being thoroughly outplayed. (At this rate, we will lose. Our seniors can''t beat them.) Lucas thought, frustration gnawing at him. He watched as Evan Cooper, the team''s point guard, tried desperately to break through Orlando''s ironclad defense, only to be stifled time and again. Alec Storm and his teammates moved with a fluidity and confidence that made it seem like they were playing a different game entirely. Lucas''s gaze swept over the starting lineupEvan Cooper, Josh Turner, Aiden White, Ryan Taylor, and Brandon Young. They were all giving it their best, but it was clear that their best wasn''t enough. They lacked the spark, the precision, the raw talent needed to challenge a team like Orlando Hoops. "(I need to observe and mimic their moves.)" Lucas thought, his eyes narrowing with determination. "(I need to copy it and enhance it with my Absolute Mimicry abilities.)" Lucas''s power, Absolute Mimicry, had become his secret weapon. Since receiving this extraordinary ability from the mysterious old man just day ago, he had discovered its true potential. Absolute Mimicry wasn''t just about copying the skills and techniques of others; it was about mastering them. Lucas could replicate any move he saw, but that was only the beginning. With each move, he added his own touch, refining and enhancing the skills until they surpassed the original. Though new to this power, Lucas had spent years training his mind and body despite being untalented, as he was preparing for the day he could truly unleash his worth on the court. As he watched Alec Storm effortlessly guide his team, controlling the game with a calm authority that spoke of years of experience, Lucas''s resolve hardened. "I can do that. I can be better than that." he told himself, his eyes gleaming with determination. Every dribble, every pass, every shot was a lesson. Lucas absorbed it all, his mind working at lightning speed to break down the mechanics, the strategy, the timing. He could feel the familiar itch in his muscles, the urge to get on the court and show what he was capable of. The game was slipping away from Vorpal Basket, but Lucas knew that he could change that. He just needed a chance to get on the court, to show what he could do. And when that moment came, he would be ready. Lucas''s impatience grew with each passing second, but he forced himself to remain calm. His time would come, and when it did, he would show everyonehis teammates, his opponents, and even himselfwhat basketball looked like. This was just the beginning, and Lucas Graves was determined to seize his moment, no matter what it took. ..... [Ethan Albarado Pov] Ding...! "Quest completed." My eyes widened at the sudden notification ringing in my head. "(What? Completed? Since when?)" I thought, confused. [Quest: Watch the Game C Completed] Reward: 600 SP I blinked, momentarily distracted, but then shook my head. This wasn''t the time to dwell on it. Then I watched Lucas sitting on the bench, a wide grin spread across his face, his eyes locked onto the game. It was like he was itching to get in there, ready to prove himself. "(He really loves basketball, huh?)" I thought, my gaze fixed on him. "(I know exactly what he''s thinking. He wants to step onto that court and show everyone what he''s made of. He wants to prove his worth. Truly, he''s the protagonist of this novel.)" I clenched my fists, feeling the heat of anticipation rising in my chest. (But Lucas... you''re not the only one eager to show his worth.) I took a deep breath, clearing my mind. If I wanted to make an impact, I needed to know exactly where I stood. Without hesitation, I called out in my mind "(System, show me my status.)" A familiar chime echoed in my head as a transparent blue window materialized in front of me. The glowing text displayed my current stats: I stared at the number for a moment, then exhaled. "(Thank you... whoever gave me this quest.)" ... [Basketball Power System] Status: Name: Ethan Albarado Level: Rookie Upgrade Points (UP): 20 Shop Points (SP): 600 ... [Core Attributes] [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 6Layup Skill: 4Dunk Skill: 3Dribbling Skill: 9 (+5 upgraded)Passing Skill: 5 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 3Blocking Ability: 3Steal Skill: 4 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 4Endurance: 4Speed: 9 (+5 upgraded) ... [Skills:] Basic Power Shot C Allows for standard shooting with average accuracy.Basic Precision Pass C Enhances accuracy in simple passes.Basic Dribble C Fundamental ball-handling skills.Magic Johnson Passing Vision (Intermediate Level) C Significantly improves court vision and playmaking abilities. I exhaled sharply as I scanned the stats. My dribbling and speed had improved significantly after spending Upgrade Points, making me one of the fastest on the team. "(With my current attributes, I may not be the best scorer, but I can become the best playmaker on this court.)" As I stared at my status screen, my mind racing. The Orlando Hoops were dominating, and if we wanted any chance at turning this game around, I had to step up as the playmaker. "(Lucas has Absolute Mimicry, so he can adapt and copy moves... but that alone won''t be enough to win. If I want to lead this team to victory, I need to make sure everyone plays better.)" I took a deep breath, clenching my fists. "(System, open the Shop.)" A shimmering blue screen appeared before me, listing various skills and items available for purchase. My 600 SP sat at the top, a reminder that I had resources to use. ..... [Shop List] ???? Playmaker''s Vision (Advanced) C 500 SP - Upgrades passing accuracy, decision-making, and assists, making teammates more effective. ???? Floor General''s Command C 500 SP - Increases team coordination, improving movement and shot selection of teammates while on the court. ???? Ankle Breaker (Intermediate) C 400 SP - Enhances dribbling moves, making it easier to break past defenders. ???? Speed Boost Card C 100 SP -Temporarily increases speed by +2 for 5 minutes. ???? Team Synergy Card C 200 SP - Increases the overall effectiveness of teammates for 10 minutes. ???? Flash Pass C 200 SP - Enables fast and unpredictable passes, making it harder for defenders to intercept. More... I scrolled through the list, weighing my options. My focus was clear as hellI needed something that would boost the entire team, not just myself. My eyes locked onto two skills: ? Playmaker''s Vision (Advanced) C 500 SP ? Floor General''s Command C 500 SP Both were powerful, but I could only afford one. (If I get Playmaker''s Vision, I can ensure my passes are sharper, leading to better scoring opportunities. But if I pick Floor General''s Command, I can boost the entire team''s performance, making them more efficient overall.) I gritted my teeth, debating my choice. After a moment, I made my decision. "(System, purchase Floor General''s Command.)" [500 SP deducted. Skill acquired: Floor General''s Command (Advanced)] As soon as I confirmed the purchase, a surge of energy pulsed through my body. My vision sharpened, and I felt an intuitive understanding of my teammates'' positioning, strengths, and weaknesses. I smirked. With this, I won''t just be a playmaker... I''ll be the one controlling the flow of the game. ..... [3rd POV] The game pressed on, the crowd''s energy rippling through the gym as Vorpal Basket desperately tried to close the gap. The Orlando Hoops remained dominant, their defense suffocating every passing lane, their offense methodical and efficient. Josh Turner, Vorpal Basket''s starting shooting guard (#8), took position beyond the three-point line. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he squared his shoulders, gripping the ball tightly. His heart pounded as he focused on the basket, knowing they needed pointsbadly. With a deep breath, Josh rose for the shot. But before he could fully extend his arms BAM! A blur of blue crashed into him. Mason Hayes, Orlando Hoops'' elite shooting guard, bodied him mid-air, sending Josh tumbling onto the hardwood floor. The loud thud echoed across the gym as a collective gasp rippled through the audience. Josh clutched his ankle, his face twisting in pain. The referee''s whistle shrieked through the air, signaling an immediate stop in play. Ethan Albarado, sitting on the bench, narrowed his eyes. "As expected... one of our players would get injured." Josh winced, trying to push himself up, but the pain in his ankle was unbearable. He gritted his teeth, his breathing ragged. The coach stomped onto the court, hands on his hips. His expression twisted in frustration as he assessed the situation. Ethan leaned back, crossing his arms. "(I guess fate decided to start things up.)" His eyes flicked toward the bench, where Lucas was already stretching his arms, preparing himself. "This is his moment. His Turning Point." Ethan smirked slightly. He already knew what Lucas was capable of. After all, he had read the novel. But watching it unfold in real life? That was something entirely different. He glanced at the coach. "(Another player on our team will get injured soon... and when that happens, I''ll make sure that fatass coach puts me in.)" He clenched his fists, determination burning in his gaze. "(I don''t care what the original story says. This is my chance, and I''ll change everything)." For now, he would watch Lucas Graves step onto the court and shake the entire game. ..... The gym remained tense as Josh Turner was helped off the court, his face twisted in pain. The whistle echoed through the air, signaling a substitution. From the bench, Lucas Graves stood up, rolling his shoulders. His black hair glistened under the bright gym lights, and his yellow eyes burned with determination. He knewthis was his moment. The murmurs from the crowd grew louder as the coach hesitated, glancing at his roster. Ethan Albarado smirked. (Go on, Coach... you know who to put in.) Sure enough, the coach''s frustrated sigh filled the air. "Lucas! Get in there!" Lucas nodded, stepping onto the court. As he walked past Ethan, he noticed his teammate watching him closely. "Go kill it, men." Ethan said, his voice calm but firm. Lucas gave a small nod before jogging onto the court, his jersey lightly bouncing with each step. The scoreboard read: Orlando Hoops C 32 Vorpal Basket C 12 A 20-point deficit. A murmur swept through the crowd. Lucas Graves? The benchwarmer? The water boy? Some of the Vorpal Basket starters exchanged looks. Evan Cooper furrowed his brows, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Lucas?" Evan muttered under his breath. Ryan Taylor, the power forward, raised an eyebrow. "Wait, wait, waithold up. Coach, you''re putting him in?" Aiden White scoffed, adjusting his jersey. "We''re already getting destroyed, and now we''re just giving up?" From the bench, Ethan Albarado simply grinned. (Oh, you guys have no idea what''s coming.) The Orlando players watched Lucas enter, their expressions barely changing. They didn''t see him as a threat. Alec Storm, Orlando''s star point guard, scoffed, looking at Mason Hayes. "They''re subbing in someone?" Alec muttered. Mason chuckled. "This game''s already over." Lucas ignored them. He adjusted his wristbands, bouncing lightly on his feet. His muscles were loose, his breathing controlled. His mind? Focused. "This is it. The moment where everything changes." Lucas adjusted his wristbands and walked onto the court, his expression calm. He barely acknowledged his own teammates, let alone the opposition. The referee handed the ball to Vorpal Basket for the inbound. Evan hesitated, then passed it to Lucas. And then Something shifted. The second Lucas caught the ball, his stance changed. His posture. His balance. His control over the ball. It was different. Evan''s eyes widened. "What the hell?" Aiden White, who had been skeptical seconds ago, felt a chill run down his spine. "Wait... why does he suddenly look... legit?" Orlando''s players were watching, unimpressed. Alec yawned. "Tch. Whatever." Lucas took his first dribble. A sharp, controlled bounce. Then another. Then BAM! Lucas executed a lightning-fast crossover, the ball snapping between his hands like a blur. Alec''s body reacted a half-second too late. His foot shiftedoff balance. Lucas saw it. He exploited it. With a quick burst of speed, Lucas blew past Alec like he was standing still. Alec''s eyes went wide. "What?!" Mason Hayes, standing at the wing, immediately rotated to stop Lucas''s drive. "I got him" Lucas didn''t even hesitate. A perfect step-back dribble, mimicking Alec''s own movement from earlier in the game. Mason reacted too slow. Lucas launched up a mid-range shot. The ball sailed smoothly SWISH! The crowd erupted. On the bench, Ethan leaned forward, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Heh. They''re speechless." Julian Cross looked at the scoreboard, blinking. "That actually went in?" Alec''s jaw clenched. "Tch... lucky shot." But Lucas was already getting back on defense. There was no celebration. No reaction. Just pure focus. Mason turned to Alec. "Dude... how did he just cook you?" Alec scowled. "He didn''t cook me. I wasn''t paying attention." Mason smirked. "Uh-huh. Sure." Meanwhile, Evan was still staring at Lucas. "Wait a damn minute... when did he learn to play like this?" Ryan Taylor, still skeptical, shook his head. "Nah... this doesn''t make sense. He was just a bench player. You''re telling me he''s suddenly better than half our team?" Aiden White, who had been doubting Lucas moments ago, finally spoke up. "I don''t know how... but something''s different about him." On the sideline, Coach Fred Mason was stunned. His usual lazy expression was gone. He leaned forward, gripping his clipboard. "What the hell...?" Orlando Hoops quickly inbounded the ball. Alec Storm was pissed. He caught the pass and immediately drove up the court. Lucas shadowed him. Every step. Every movement. Every hesitation. Lucas was mirroring him. Alec''s frustration grew. "Why is he keeping up with me?" He went for a quick dribble hesitation move. Lucas didn''t fall for it. Alec tried a step-back jumper. Lucas was already contesting the shot. "No way" Alec forced the shot. BRICK! The ball bounced off the rim. Lucas immediately snatched the rebound. In one motion A no-look pass straight to Evan Cooper. Evan barely caught it. He turnedwide open three. SWISH! The entire gym exploded. Orlando Hoops C 32 Vorpal Basket C 17 The bench erupted. "HOLY SHIT! DID YOU SEE THAT?!" "LUCAS, WHAT WAS THAT PASS?!" Evan looked at Lucas in disbelief. "Dudewhat the hell?!" Lucas simply walked past him, his voice calm. "Just make the shot next time." Alec, stunned, turned toward Mason. "Hey. Are we... actually in trouble?" Mason was silent for a moment. Then "...Yeah. I think we are." Meanwhile, Ethan watched from the bench, his fingers gripping his knees. "Damn... it''s even crazier watching it happen." Lucas wasn''t just playing well. He was changing the entire flow of the game. To be continue Chapter 8 - 7: His Turning Point Chapter 8 - 7: His Turning Point The energy in the gym was at an all-time high as Alec Storm, Orlando Hoops'' starting Point Guard (#1), dribbled the ball up the court with effortless confidence. Across from him, Evan Cooper, Vorpal Basket''s captain and starting Point Guard (#9), was locked in, determined to contain Alec''s assault. Alec''s sharp, calculating eyes analyzed Evan in an instant. With a smirk, he taunted "Looks like this team has someone who isn''t completely useless." Evan''s grip on his shorts tightened. His muscles tensed, and his teeth clenched at Alec''s arrogant words. "What did you say?" Alec chuckled. And thenhe attacked. With an explosive burst of speed, Alec pounded the ball low, alternating between his right and left hand in rapid succession. His dribbles were tight, controlled, and hypnotic. Pound Dribble C Ankle Height C Right Hand. Pound Dribble C Ankle Height C Left Hand. Evan''s eyes tried to track the movement, his body reacting on instinct. But Alec was fasttoo fast. "Damn it, I can barely keep up!" Evan thought, sweat forming on his brow. ThenAlec spun. A devastating Spin Move Dribble. Evan''s legs buckled. His body tilted the wrong way, his balance shattered. And thenhe dropped. Knees hitting the hardwood floor, Evan stared in shock as Alec effortlessly finished his spin, leaving him completely behind. The crowd erupted. "DID HE JUST DROP EVAN?!" "OH SHIT! HE BROKE HIS ANKLES!!" Even Orlando''s bench players stood up, shaking their heads in admiration. Alec, standing tall, looked down at Evan with an amused smirk. "Ordinary people will always be ordinary." Evan''s fists clenched. The humiliation burned deep in his chest, but there was nothing he could do. Alec was just on another level. Alec casually turned, his eyes scanning the court before finding Ethan Blake, Orlando Hoops'' Starting Power Forward (#4). With a simple flick of the wrist, he whipped a pass straight into Ethan''s hands. But even as he passed the ball, Alec''s thoughts were elsewhere. His gaze drifted toward Lucas Graves. That benchwarmer. The one who had imitated his moves perfectly. But it wasn''t just copyingit was superior. Alec narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell is this guy? How did he steal my moves... and make them better?" Lucas, standing ready on defense, was breathing heavily. His Absolute Mimicry was taking its toll. "This is exhausting," Lucas thought, feeling his muscles burn. "This ability pushes me to my limit." But he wasn''t backing down. Not now. Not ever. Lucas wiped sweat from his brow, eyes locked onto Alec. "I trained my body ever since I started playing basketball. Even without talent, I never stopped pushing myself." "Now that I have Absolute Mimicry, I won''t waste this chance. I''ll give it everything I have." Lucas dug his feet into the floor, ready for the next play. Lucas locked eyes with Ethan Blake, Orlando Hoops'' Starting Power Forward (#4). A post monster. "He''s strong." Lucas thought, steadying himself. But strong doesn''t mean I can''t stop him Ethan Blake grinned, pounding the ball hard against the polished hardwood floor. THUD. THUD. His dribble was heavy, powerfuleach bounce like a warning. "Let''s see if you can stop this!!" Ethan roared, lowering his shoulder and charging forward. Lucas shifted his stance, eyes analyzing Ethan''s every movement. Thenit happened. A sensation spread through Lucas''s body, like a switch flipping in his brain. Absolute Mimicry activated. In his mind, the details snapped into focus. Ethan''s footwork. His positioning. The precise angle of his back-down move. Lucas wasn''t just seeing ithe understood it. The power. The balance. The sheer force behind it. And now, he had it too. Ethan pounded the ball once, then twice, before making his move. A powerful drop step. Lucas moved instantly. His feet glided, mirroring the motion frame for frame. The crowd gaspedLucas had just copied Ethan''s movement in real-time! But he didn''t stop there. Just as Ethan went up for the shot, Lucas predicted it His body reacted perfectly. A precise contest at the exact right moment. Ethan''s shot rolled off the rim. Lucas snatched the rebound effortlessly. Gasps echoed through the gym. Ethan''s eyes widened in disbelief. "WHAT?! HE MOVED JUST LIKE ME!" Lucas didn''t hesitate. He exploded down the court. Alec Storm''s sharp eyes caught the movement. His expression darkened. "No way... he mimicked Ethan''s footwork...?" Lucas crossed half-court, scanning the Orlando defense. Alec moved to cut him off Lucas immediately recalled Alec''s dribbling sequence from before. And thenhe did it. Pound Dribble C Ankle Height C Right Hand. Pound Dribble C Ankle Height C Left Hand. Alec''s eyes widened. "HE''S USING MY MOVES?!" Thenthe spin move. FLAWLESS. Alec stumbled, completely caught off guard. Lucas was already past him. But it wasn''t over. Mason Hayes was next, stepping up as the last defender. Lucas smirked. He had watched Mason''s finishing style earlier. Now it was his. Lucas gathered at the rim A perfect mid-air pump fake. Mason bit. Lucas switched hands mid-air, adjusting the shot angle The ball floated off the glass... and dropped in. SWISH. The gym ERUPTED. "WHAT THE HELL DID WE JUST WITNESS?!" Ethan Blake froze. Mason Hayes froze. Even Alec Storm, the self-proclaimed genius, felt his heart skip a beat. Lucas landed softly, his expression calm, but inside, his blood was pumping. He turned back, meeting Ethan''s glare with a confident smile. "I stopped it." Lucas said, his voice even. "And I can do it again." Ethan''s fists clenched. "You little" The Orlando Hoops'' bench erupted in murmurs. Even Coach Fred Mason of Vorpal Basket, who had ignored Lucas all game, finally leaned forward. "What the hell is this kid...?" The momentum had shifted. BZZZT! The shrill sound of the buzzer cut through the air. TIMEOUT C Orlando Hoops. The gym was filled with mixed reactions. The Orlando fans were murmuring in confusion, while Vorpal Basket''s bench players exchanged shocked glances. Lucas had just entered the game... and forced Orlando Hoops to call a timeout. On the Orlando Hoops'' bench, Coach Guy Corson''s expression was unreadable. But inside, he was furious. He grabbed the stat sheet from one of his assistants and looked at the scoreboard: Orlando Hoops C 32 Vorpal Basket C 19 Still a comfortable lead. But something was off. For the first time in the game, they had lost momentum. And it was because of one player. Corson turned his sharp gaze toward his players, his voice low but firm. "Time to crush them, boys." The five starters looked up at him, their casual demeanor shifting into something colder, more focused. Orlando Hoops - Starting Five: Alec Storm C Starting Point Guard (#1) Age: 15 Hair: Black Personality: Cocky, highly skilled, dismisses weak opponents. Abilities:Elite Playmaker, Game Control, Exceptional dribbling, passing, and decision-making. Weakness: Overconfident, underestimates unknown opponents. Alec crossed his arms, his smirk gone. "Guess I misjudged that guy." He muttered. Corson''s eyes flickered toward him. "Alec, I don''t want you just playing around anymore. Shut him down." Alec nodded, cracking his knuckles. "Understood, Coach. No more freebies." Mason Hayes C Starting Shooting Guard (#2) Age: 15Hair: Dark Blonde Personality: Smug, thrives under pressure. Abilities:Elite Shooter, Clutch Scorer, Can shoot from anywhere with precision. Weakness: Defensive focus is average. Mason let out a short laugh. "I''ll make sure that kid doesn''t get another clean shot." Corson''s eyes narrowed. "You let him get past you like a fool earlier. Fix it." Mason''s smugness faded slightly. "Got it." Julian Cross C Starting Small Forward (#3) Age: 15Hair: Light Brown Personality: Calm, highly athletic, defensive-minded. Abilities: Versatile Forward, Driving Ability, Defensive Specialist Weakness: Lacks a consistent three-point shot. Julian cracked his neck and nodded. "I''ll keep him locked up." Corson''s lips pressed into a thin line. Ethan Blake C Starting Power Forward (#4) Age: 15 Hair: Dark Brown Personality: Tough, dominant in the post. Abilities: Post Skills, Strong Defender Weakness: Struggles against speed-based players. Ethan clenched his fists. "I won''t let that punk embarrass me again." Corson''s eyes hardened. "Good. Now prove it." Jaxon Wells C Starting Center (#5) Age: 15 Hair: Black Personality: Silent, dominant in the paint, strongest defensive player. Abilities: Dominant Paint Presence, Physicality Weakness: Poor free-throw shooter. Jaxon simply nodded. He never talked much, but when he did, he made it count. "Understood." Corson scanned his players one last time before nodding. "No more games. Shut them down. Destroy their confidence." Alec Storm grinned, standing up from the bench. "Oh, this is gonna be fun." .... Vorpal Basket - On the Court Lucas sat on the bench, taking deep breaths. His heart pounded, his muscles were slightly sore, but his mind was clear. Evan Cooper and the others sat beside him, still in shock. Josh Turner, who had injured his ankle earlier, leaned forward slightly. "Yo... did that actually just happen?" Ryan Taylor, Vorpal Basket''s power forward, shook his head in disbelief. "Did He justmimicked them." Aiden White crossed his arms, eyes still wide. "Not just mimicked them. He copied them and made it better." Evan, still sweating from the play before the timeout, ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. "That... wasn''t normal." Lucas, hearing all of them whisper about him, let out a chuckle. Suddenly, a voice scoffed from the side. "Tch, so what? You guys acting like he just won us the game." Lucas turned to see Coonie Smith, another bench player. He had short, messy black hair and was known for his bitter personality. But deep down, Lucas knew he wasn''t a bad guyjust frustrated. Ethan smirked and leaned back. "What''s wrong, Coonie? Feeling salty?" Coonie rolled his eyes. "I''m just saying, don''t start acting like this dude''s some basketball god. He got a couple of good plays, so what? We''re still down by 19." Lucas just smiled. "Yeah. And I''m going back in to fix that." Coonie scoffed but didn''t look away. "Hah. You sound confident. Let''s see if you can back it up." Ethan chuckled, nudging Lucas with his elbow. "Men...." Lucas shrugged. "It''s fine. I like proving people wrong." The scoreboard flashedstill 19 points down. Still a long way to go. But the momentum... It was shifting. Evan stood up. "Let''s go." Lucas nodded. The whistle blewTimeout over. Orlando Hoops walked back onto the court with deadly focus. Lucas could feel it. They weren''t playing around anymore. But neither was he. ... Ethan Albarado POV "Finally... this is it." I leaned forward on the bench, watching the game unfold with sharp focus. This is the moment I''ve been waiting for. Another player from our team would get injured from what I remember in the novel. I activated my system and quickly analyzed, our small forward. I knew itAiden White, the starting small forward. ... Status: Aiden White C Starting Small Forward (#7) Age: 15 Hair: Blonde Personality: Versatile but lacks an identity as a player. Abilities:Basic Athleticism, Basic Versatility, Basic Consistency Weakness: Lacks effectiveness in key areas. ..... I exhaled, a smirk forming on my face. "This is my chance." I clenched my fists, my heart pounding with anticipation. "(Lucas, you''re not the only one with a game-changer. When I step on that court, I''ll show you how we''re going to win this game.)" ......... The Orlando Hoops had the ball, and every single one of their players knew exactly what they had to do. They had a countermeasure. Guy Corson, the head coach of Orlando Hoops, had seen enough. He stood by the sidelines, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he watched Lucas Gravesthe unknown variablemove across the court. "(This Lucas Graves... what exactly is this kid?)" he thought. He had analyzed Lucas''s plays carefully. Lucas could mimic his players. Not just copy thembut enhance their skills, refine their techniques. That was dangerous. That was a problem. "Shut him down," Corson had ordered during the timeout. "Full defensive pressure on Graves. I don''t care if someone else scores, but he doesn''t touch the ball without a body on him." And now, Orlando''s starting five locked eyes with each other. Alec Storm, Mason Hayes, Julian Cross, Ethan Blake, and Jaxon Wells. They were locked in. Determined. Focused. Ready. This was the Orlando Hoops. A team that didn''t just winthey crushed their opponents. And Lucas Graves was just another obstacle to remove. .... [Lucas Graves POV] I could feel it. The pressure. The suffocating defense. They weren''t underestimating me anymore. They were locking me down. Every time I moved, Alec Storm was therehis footwork perfect, his body angled to cut me off. If I tried to receive a pass, Mason Hayes swarmed me, pushing me off my spot. If I drove to the basket, Ethan Blake and Jaxon Wells were already there, waiting. I gritted my teeth. "I guess I''m almost at my limit." Absolute Mimicry was strongbut it had its costs. My body was screaming. My stamina was draining fast. I was faster than them. Smarter than them due to this power. But in the end... They had more experience. More chemistry. More skill. I was fighting alone. And despite everything, despite the talent, the ability, the determination... I still couldn''t win. ......... [Ethan Albarado POV] I watched from the bench, my fingers gripping the hem of my jersey. Lucas was losing steam. His movements weren''t as sharp. His decision-making wasn''t as crisp. He was reaching his limit. And then, it happened. A hard screen by Julian CrossLucas didn''t see it coming. He slammed into it, his body stumbling backward, gasping for breath. The ball? Stolen. Fast break. Dunk. The crowd exploded. Orlando Hoops roared. And our coach? That fatass Fred Mason was rubbing his temples, looking frustrated as he glanced at the bench. I smirked. "This is it." Aiden Whiteour small forwardwas our next weak link. He was about to go down. And when he did... Fred Mason would have no choice but to put me in. No I will make him.... To be continue Chapter 9: Vorpal Pov Chapter 9 - Vorpal Pov [3rd POV] C Vorpal Basket''s Players Before Lucas Steps In The tension on the bench was suffocating. The scoreboard read: ???? Orlando Hoops C 32 ???? Vorpal Basket C 12 A 20-point deficit. Sweat dripped from Evan Cooper''s brow as he sat with his head down, his legs bouncing restlessly. He hated losing, and right now, that''s all they were doing. Josh Turner, his ankle wrapped in ice, winced as he watched their starters struggle. "Damn it..." he muttered, rubbing his temples. Ryan Taylor leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. He had given everything in the last few plays, but the gap just kept getting bigger. "Man, we can''t stop them." Aiden White sat with his elbows on his knees, his fingers locked together. He wasn''t the type to give motivational speeches, but even he could feel how defeated they all looked. "It''s like... they don''t even respect us." Coonie Smith, the sharp-tongued bench player, scoffed. "Well, are they wrong?" His voice was laced with frustration. "They''re out there playing basketball. We''re out there getting embarrassed." No one answered. Evan gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. He looked at the court, at Alec Storm effortlessly breaking down their defense, at Mason Hayes sinking shot after shot. "We''re not even making them work for it." Evan muttered. Josh exhaled, shaking his head. "Coach needs to sub someone in. We need fresh legs." Ryan sighed. "But who? We barely have depth." And then Coach Fred Mason''s voice rang out from the sideline. "Lucas! Get in there!" A pause. A blink. The entire bench turned to look at Lucas Graves. Lucas. The benchwarmer. The water boy. Ryan Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Wait, wait, waithold up. Coach, you''re putting him in?" Aiden White scoffed, adjusting his jersey. "We''re already getting destroyed, and now we''re just giving up?" Josh Turner, who had been on the team longer, frowned but didn''t say anything. Lucas was a nice guy, sure... but this was an exhibition game against a top-tier team. This wasn''t a charity event. One of the benchplayer scratched his head. "Man, we''re already getting smoked. Are we really just throwing in the towel?" Aiden White exhaled and leaned back. He had nothing against Lucas, but... "This ain''t high school ball. This is Orlando Hoops. You don''t just casually sub in a bench player against them." Evan, ever the competitor, frowned slightly but kept his mouth shut. He had seen Lucas at practice before. The dude tried hard. He wasn''t bad, but he wasn''t special either. Lucas stood up, adjusting his jersey. His expression? Calm. Too calm. Like he didn''t even hear them doubting him. Ethan Albarado, sitting beside Lucas, smirked as if he knew something no one else did. Lucas didn''t say anything. He just walked toward the court, his posture relaxed but confident. Josh crossed his arms and shook his head. "Well, guess we''re about to see what he can do." Ryan scoffed. "Yeah, right." Aiden muttered under his breath. "This is a joke..." .... Lucas jogged onto the court. The crowd barely reacted. The Orlando Hoops barely reacted. And even his own teammates barely reacted. To them, he was just another guy in a jersey. Alec Storm, the opposing point guard, smirked as he saw Lucas take position. "They''re really putting in a scrub?" he muttered to Mason Hayes. Mason chuckled. "Guess they''ve given up." Lucas ignored them. The referee blew the whistle, and the game resumed. Vorpal Basket inbounded the ball to Lucas. Evan, standing nearby, watched closely. He expected Lucas to pass the ball off immediatelylike any nervous bench player would. Instead Lucas dribbled. Not just any dribble . A tight, controlled bounce. Josh blinked. "Wait, what?" Ryan frowned. "That looked kinda... clean." Lucas took a step forward. Alec Storm moved to press him. Lucas reacted instantly. BAM! A crossover. Alec''s foot shiftedjust slightly, just enough. Lucas saw it. And he exploited it. With a sharp burst of speed, he blew past Alec Storm like he was standing still. Josh''s mouth fell open. Ryan shot forward in his seat. Aiden, who had been shaking his head a moment ago, froze. Lucas stepped into the mid-range and launched a shot. Perfect form. Perfect release. The ball arced beautifully. SWISH. Dead silence. Thenan explosion of noise from the crowd. The Vorpal Basket bench lost their minds. "WHAT THE HELL?!" Ryan shouted, standing up. Josh blinked rapidly. "No, no, no, nowhat the hell did we just watch?!" Aiden, who had doubted him the most, leaned forward, staring at Lucas like he was seeing him for the first time. "Wait... what?" Evan''s heart pounded. He didn''t even realize he had been holding his breath. Lucas Gravesa benchwarmer, a water boyjust broke down the best point guard on the floor and scored like it was nothing. On the Orlando Hoops'' side, Alec Storm''s face twitched. Mason Hayes raised an eyebrow. Julian Cross muttered, "What just happened?" Ethan Blake exhaled sharply. "Oh, shit... this guy''s legit." Even Coach Fred Mason, who barely paid attention to his bench players, was leaning forward. Lucas turned around, expression calm. Like nothing had happened. Like he expected that shot to go in. Josh muttered under his breath, "Okay... this is not the same Lucas I know." Ryan was still staring at the scoreboard. "Wasn''t he a bench player?" Evan exhaled and shook his head. "No," he muttered. "Not anymore." Chapter 10: Main Character list Chapter 10 - Main Character list Ethan Albarado (#20) C The Main Protagonist / Reincarnated Player Formerly Jonathan Brandit, a 28-year-old wheelchair-bound basketball analyst in his past life. Now a 14-year-old rookie with deep basketball knowledge but no prior in-game experience. Possesses a Basketball Power System that allows him to upgrade his skills. Bought Magic Johnson''s Passing Vision & Playmaker''s Vision to enhance his playmaking. First official game and proving himself after being ignored by his coach. Lucas Graves (#10) C The Protagonist of ''Turning Point'' / Absolute Mimic A bench player who gained the ability Absolute Mimicry, allowing him to copy and refine basketball moves. Originally just a hardworking player with no talent, but his power makes him a rising star. His love for basketball fuels his passion, inspiring his teammates. Struggles with stamina loss due to the physical strain of mimicry. Chapter 11 - 8: My turning Point Chapter 11 - 8: My turning Point [3rd Person POV] The second quarter was halfway over, and the gap was growing wider. Lucas Graves stood at the top of the key, panting, sweat dripping down his face. His muscles burned, his breaths came in short gasps. He glanced at the scoreboard. ... [Scoreboard: Orlando Hoops C 44 Vorpal Basket C 27] ... Lucas clenched his fists. "(At this rate, we''re not going to win...)" His mind was racing. His Absolute Mimicry allowed him to replicate their moves, but Orlando had adapted. They were locking him down, forcing him into exhaustion. Every time he moved, Alec Storm shadowed him. Every time he looked for a pass, Mason Hayes and Julian Cross were there to cut it off. "(They''re zoning me out...)" Lucas lifted his headhis sharp, yellow eyes locked onto Evan Cooper. Evan, Vorpal Basket''s point guard and captain, had the ball at the top of the arc. He looked at Lucas, his expression firm. "Lucas!" Evan called out. Lucas snapped out of his thoughts just as Evan fired a sharp pass toward him. Lucas caught the ball. But immediatelythe Orlando defense collapsed on him. Alec Storm was in his face. Mason Hayes was lurking nearby, ready to pounce. Julian Cross shifted his stance, watching Lucas''s every move. Lucas gritted his teeth. "(They''re really trying to force me out of the play.)" He scanned the court and saw Aiden White open on the wing. Aiden WhiteVorpal Basket''s small forward. Not the best option. But the only option. Lucas fired a pass to Aiden. Aiden caught it, pivoted, and searched for an opening. He spotted Ryan Taylor, the power forward, near the baseline. Aiden made the quick decision. He passed it. But Julian Cross jumped the lane. Steal. Aiden''s eyes widened. "Shit!!" he cursed as Julian snatched the ball with one hand and immediately took off down the court. Fast break. Orlando Hoops was on the attack again. The crowd roared as Julian drove toward the basket at full speed. Lucas and Evan sprinted back, desperate to stop him. But Julian was too fast. With a smooth euro step, he cut past Ryan Taylor. Then A powerful dunk. Slam!! The entire backboard rattled as Julian hung on the rim for a brief moment before landing. The gym erupted. .... [Scoreboard Update: Orlando Hoops C 46 Vorpal Basket C 27] ... Lucas exhaled sharply, clenching his fists. This game was slipping away. And if something didn''t change soon... It would be over before they even reached the second half. .... [Ethan Albarado POV] I stared at the scoreboard. .. Scoreboard: Orlando Hoops C 46 Vorpal Basket C 27 2nd quarter (4 minutes left) ... We were getting destroyed. I knew from the novel that in the second quarter, someone from our team would get injured. And that someone... Was Aiden White. I tapped my fingers anxiously against my knee, watching the game unfold. "(Come on, come on... get injured... get injured...)" I froze. Wait. "(Shit, did I just seriously wish for my own teammate to get hurt?)" I shook my head. "(Damn it, Ethan, that''s messed up...)" I let out a nervous chuckle. "(Sorry, Aiden, nothing personal. But I need that substitution...)" A part of me felt bad, but this was my chance. The moment Aiden went down, the coach would have to make a choice. And I''d make sure he chose me. I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "(This is it. My moment is coming.)" I clenched my fists. "(Wait for me everyone.... I''ll show you what I''ve got.)" I watched as the game continued, waiting for the inevitable moment that would change everything. ......... [Aiden White POV] I gripped the ball tightly, feeling the sweat trickle down my temple. I needed this win. I glanced up at the scoreboard. .... Scoreboard: Orlando Hoops C 46 Vorpal Basket C 27 Time Left in the Second Quarter: 4:12 .... I looked towards the stands, searching for her. There she was. My little sister, Lily White, sitting in the audience, her small hands gripping the railing. She was watching me, eyes filled with admiration. She had always believed in me. Even when others doubted me. And right now I wanted to prove to her that her big brother was cool. "(Just one win... just one damn win...)" I started dribbling, my heart pounding in sync with the ball hitting the court. I knew I wasn''t the best player on the team. I knew Lucas was playing out of his mind right now. But I wanted to be more than just a supporting player. I wanted this moment. ..... Julian Cross C Starting Small Forward (#3) Height: 6''2" Personality: Calm, highly athletic, defensive-minded. Specialty: Lockdown Defender ... Julian stood in front of me, eyes locked in. He wasn''t just standing there. He was waiting. Smirking. He knew. He could see it. I wasn''t going to pass. And I could tell He was daring me to go for it. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lucas Graves calling for the ball. "Pass!" Lucas''s voice rang out. I hesitated. For a secondjust a secondI thought about giving it to him. But then I looked back at Lily. I clenched my teeth. "(No... I can do this!)" I crossed over hard, shifting the ball from right to left. Julian didn''t bite. He barely moved. He just watched. I felt my chest tighten. "(Shit, he''s reading me)" Before I could react Julian lunged. His hands moved like lightning Swipe! The ball was gone. "Shit!!" I yelled as Julian stole the ball clean. The next second, he was already sprinting down the court on a fast break. I turned, desperately chasing after him But he was too fast. One step. Two steps. Slam. Julian dunked it hard, the rim rattling as the crowd erupted. "JULIAN CROSS WITH THE STEAL AND SLAM!!!" The announcer''s voice boomed through the gym. The Orlando Hoops bench exploded with cheers. I froze. I turned back toward the stands. Lily was still watching. But she wasn''t smiling. She just looked... disappointed. I felt a weight press down on my chest. I blew it. I wanted to prove to her that I was cool. But instead, I just looked like an idiot. Evan ran up to me. His expression was serious. "Aiden." I didn''t answer. "Look, I get it. You wanted to score." I clenched my fists. "But basketball isn''t about one person proving themselves." I looked away, shame crawling up my spine. Evan exhaled, then patted my shoulder. "You''re still her big brother, Aiden. She''s proud of you no matter what." I bit my lip. Lucas jogged back down the court, getting back into position. I took a deep breath. I wasn''t going to get another chance. But maybe... Just maybe ... [3rd POV] Evan Cooper dribbled the ball at the top of the key, his eyes locked onto Alec Storm. Alec stood in a low defensive stance, his eyes analyzing every twitch of Evan''s movements. His presence alone felt suffocating. Evan gritted his teeth. "Tsk." He knew he couldn''t break past Alecnot without risking a turnover. Instead, he made the smart choice. He passed the ball to Josh Turner, who immediately took over. .... Josh Turner C Starting Shooting Guard (#8) Height: 6''0" Abilities: Mid-range specialist, quick first step. Weakness: Struggles under heavy defensive pressure. .... Josh caught the ball smoothly. Mason Hayes was on him in an instant. "You''re not getting past me," Mason muttered, his stance widening. Josh dribbled behind his back, shifting from his right hand to his left in one fluid motion. Mason''s eyes narrowed, focused on the ball. Josh suddenly rose up for a shot. Mason, reacting instinctively, jumped up to contest. But it was a fake. Josh never intended to shoot. The moment Mason left his feet, Josh whipped the ball to Lucas Graves. .... Lucas Graves C Bench Player (#10) Height: 5''11" Abilities: Absolute Mimicry C can perfectly copy and refine skills. Weakness: High stamina drain, struggles with consistency. .... Lucas saw the opportunity. The second the ball hit his hands, his brain processed everything. His eyes snapped to Julian Cross, the best slasher on Orlando Hoops. He had watched Julian movestudied himmimicked his steps. Now, it was time to use them. Lucas planted his foot hard. Then He exploded forward. A lightning-fast first step. Julian''s own move. The exact footwork, the perfect balance, the subtle shift of weight All copied perfectly. Lucas drove into the paint, his speed shocking everyone. "What the?!" Julian Cross, the original user of the move, immediately reactedtoo late. Lucas was already past him. Two steps. A quick gather. A defender in frontEthan Blake, the Power Forward. Lucas adjusted mid-air. He had seen Julian do this move before. He knew what to do. Lucas twisted his body, adjusting his shooting angle mid-air, completely avoiding Ethan Blake''s outstretched arms. A perfect mid-air adjustment. A move only an elite slasher could pull off. The ball left Lucas''s fingertips Swish. Bucket. The gym fell into silence for half a second Then exploded. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" The crowd roared. Orlando Hoops players froze. Even Alec Storm was stunned. Lucas landed and turned back, breathing heavily, his eyes sharp. Julian Cross, the man whose move had just been stolenstood there, dumbfounded. "He... copied that move...?" Mason Hayes turned to Alec, his voice filled with disbelief. "Yo, what the hell is this guy?" Alec didn''t answer. He just stared at Lucas. For the first time Alec Storm felt irritated Lucas smile at him due to him being passionate at basketball ..... Meanwhile, Aiden White watched Lucas and gritted his teeth. He had been on this team for months. Lucas had just stepped on the court, and he was already making plays like that. (I wish I could do that...) But Aiden knew his limits. He wasn''t an offensive player. If he couldn''t score, then he would defend. If he couldn''t shine, then he would support. Even if it wasn''t muchhe would do his job. Back on the court, Alec Storm suddenly smirked. "You think you''re the only one who can put on a show?" Lucas, still panting, wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Okay..." he said, his breath heavy but his resolve strong. .... After 1 minute of playing Ethan Albarado watched intently from the bench. He could feel it. That moment. The turning point. (This is it... this is when Aiden White gets injured.) He wasn''t sure when it would happen. The novel barely mentioned it. Aiden was just an extra in Turning Point, a name that barely mattered in the story. Lucas, Evan, and the other main players got all the attention. But now, watching Aiden movewatching how he forced himself to keep upEthan knew. It was close. Aiden was pushing himself harder than ever. His defense had stepped up, his footwork was sharp, and he wasn''t backing down. But Ethan could see it. Aiden''s movements were getting sloppy. His legs were slow to react. His balance was shaky. (If he doesn''t sub out soon, he''s gonna get hurt.) Lucas, still catching his breath, glanced at Aiden. (Something''s off.) Orlando Hoops ran their offense. Julian Cross had the ball at the top of the key. He faked rightthen drove left. Aiden reactedtoo late. Julian blasted past him toward the rim. Lucas rotated to help, but Ethan Blake set a hard screenBAM! Lucas was cut off. Julian leapt toward the basket Aiden lunged to block him SNAP. The sound cut through the noise of the crowd. Aiden''s face twisted in pain. His ankle rolled awkwardly. He collapsed. The whistle blew. The gym fell silent. Evan rushed over, kneeling beside Aiden. "Shit, Aiden! Are you okay?" Aiden gritted his teeth, trying to sit up. His sister in the stands covered her mouth, eyes wide with worry. The referee signaled the medical staff. Aiden''s hands clenched into fists. He knew. He wasn''t playing the rest of this game. The realization hit him like a truck. "Damn it!" he cursed under his breath. The crowd murmured, Orlando''s players backed up, waiting for the inevitable substitution. Ethan Albarado slowly stood up from the bench. He cracked his knuckles. (Finally... my turn.) To be continue Chapter 12 - 9: Number 20 Chapter 12 - 9: Number 20 The gym was eerily silent as the medical staff helped Aiden White sit up. His face was twisted in pain, his ankle already starting to swell. Evan Cooper crouched beside him, worry etched across his face. "Aiden... can you stand?" Aiden clenched his fists, trying to push himself up. He barely made it an inch before wincing in pain. "Damn it..." he muttered under his breath. Lucas, still catching his breath, walked over. "Don''t force it, Aiden. Let them check it out first." Aiden turned his head slightly, locking eyes with his sister in the stands. Her small hands were gripping the railing, her expression filled with fear. He felt ashamed. (I promised her... that I''d show her I could win.) Aiden gritted his teeth. "I can still" Ryan Taylor, the team''s power forward, cut him off. "Don''t be stupid, man. If you push it now, you could be out for the whole season." Aiden exhaled shakily. He knew Ryan was right. But giving up hurt more than the injury itself. Coach Mason finally spoke up. "White''s out. We need a sub." Everyone turned toward Ethan Albarado, who had raised his hand confidently. Coach Fred Mason''s face twisted in confusion. His mind raced. "(Who the hell is this kid...? Have I ever played him before?)" His eyes narrowed. "(No. Never.)" "Tsk, don''t mess with me, brat." Coach Mason crossed his arms. "Sit your ass down." But Ethan didn''t move. Instead, he walked forward. "I knew you wouldn''t sub me in, Coach." His voice was low, calm. "You never have. Not even once." Coach Mason scoffed. "And for good reason. I don''t throw nobodies into games. Ethan leaned in slightly. "Then let me remind you of something, Coach." His voice dropped to a whisper, just loud enough for Mason to hear. "I know about the missing team funds." Mason''s entire body stiffened. His smug expression vanished. Ethan''s smirk widened. "You thought no one noticed? The ''lost'' sponsorship money? The budget that never made it to new uniforms?" Mason''s forehead beaded with sweat. Ethan stepped even closer. The tension on the bench was palpable. Coach Mason''s eyes narrowed as Ethan Albarado leaned in closer, his voice a low whisper. "So you better sub me in... or your dirty little secret might just slip out." Coach Mason''s body stiffened. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he stared at Ethan. (This damn brat... how the hell does he know?!) Ethan took a step back, grinning. "Well, Coach?" The rest of the team was watching the exchange, confused by the sudden shift in atmosphere. Josh Turner, sitting on the bench, raised an eyebrow. "Yo... what the hell''s happening?" Coonie Smith, looked shocked. "That fatass looks like he''s seen a ghost." Coach Mason clenched his fists. He hated being corneredespecially by a benchwarmer. But Ethan''s confidence wasn''t fake. He probably have some evidence. And if that something got out... Mason''s stomach churned. He glanced at the courtAiden was still grimacing in pain, clutching his ankle. No choice. With a scowl, he gritted his teeth and barked out: "Number 20, you''re in." The players on the bench froze. "Huh?!" Even Evan Cooper, the team captain, looked surprised. Lucas turned to Ethan, his interest piqued. (What did he just say to the coach...?) The referee blew the whistle. "Substitution! Albarado in for White!" Ethan grinned, stepping onto the court for the first time. The crowd didn''t cheer. They didn''t clap. They just stared. Confused murmurs spread across the gym. "Who?" "Wait... who is that guy?" "They''re really putting in a benchwarmer?" Even Orlando Hoops players looked amused. Alec Storm snorted, crossing his arms. "This is who they''re putting in? Damn, this is just sad." Mason Hayes chuckled. "Guess they''ve given up. Let''s finish this." .. Suddenly the referee raised his hand. "Technical foul on Orlando Hoops. Free throw for Vorpal Basket." A buzz of murmurs swept through the gym. "Who''s shooting?" The referee pointed to the new substitute. "Number 20. Albarado." A ripple of confusion spread through both teams. "Albarado? Who the hell is that?" The Orlando Hoops players exchanged glances. None of them recognized the name. "Is he a benchwarmer?" Alec Storm muttered, eyeing Ethan with mild curiosity. "Never seen him before," Mason Hayes added. "Must be a nobody." On the Vorpal Basket bench, the reactions were even stronger. Evan Cooper furrowed his brows. "Wait... Albarado? Since when did he play?" Ryan Taylor shook his head. "I thought he was just another water boy." Josh Turner, who was sitting with an ice pack on his injured ankle, chuckled. "Yo, is this a joke? We''re letting an unknown take a free throw?" Lucas Graves, however, remained silent. His sharp eyes never left Ethan. He had a feeling this wouldn''t be ordinary. As Ethan Albarado stepped onto the court for the first time. The number 20 jersey rested snugly on his back, the fabric feeling heavier than usualbut not from nerves. From expectation. As he walked past his teammates, their gazes lingered on him. Some skeptical. Some curious. Lucas Graves grinned at him. "You''re playing!" Ethan met his gaze and smirked. "I know." Lucas chuckled, but there was an undeniable sharpness in his eyes. "You look confident." Ethan tilted his head slightly. "Let''s see." Then, as the referee prepared to blow the whistle, Ethan mentally called upon his system. "System, display my status." A holographic screen flashed before his eyes. [Basketball Power System] Name: Ethan Albarado Level: Rookie Upgrade Points (UP): 20 Shop Points (SP): 100 ... [Core Attributes] [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 6Layup Skill: 4Dunk Skill: 3Dribbling Skill: 9Passing Skill: 5 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 3Blocking Ability: 3Steal Skill: 4 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 4Endurance: 4Speed: 9 (Base: 4 | +5 Upgraded) ... [Skills:] Basic Power Shot C Allows for standard shooting with average accuracy.Basic Precision Pass C Enhances accuracy in simple passes. Basic Dribble C Fundamental ball-handling skills. Magic Johnson Passing Vision (Intermediate Level) C Significantly improves court vision and playmaking abilities. Playmaker''s Vision (Advanced) C Upgrades passing accuracy, decision-making, and assists, making teammates more effective. Ethan thought as he close the status window. "(Im ready.)" As Ethan Albarado walked calmly to the free-throw line. The orange ball felt cool in his hands, the weight familiar yet electric. This wasn''t just a free throw. This was his first step. He bounced the ball once. Then again. The gym, despite the crowd, felt silent. Even Coach Mason, arms crossed on the sideline, watched with reluctant interest. Lucas spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sink it." Ethan breathed in. Thenhe shot. The ball sailed perfectly through the air. Swish. The net snapped as the ball went in clean. For a secondno one reacted. Then, the silence broke. "Wait, what?" "That shot was smooth as hell." "Did he just swish it with no hesitation?" Even Alec Storm raised an eyebrow. "Huh." Ethan smirked as he stepped back. The referee signaled for play to resume. The game had just changed. And everyone was about to find out who Ethan Albarado really was. ..... Scoreboard: Orlando Hoops C 48 Vorpal Basket C 30(+1 from Ethan''s free throw) Time Left in the Second Quarter: 2:58 Ethan stood at the line, gripping the basketball. The orange leather felt rough under his fingertips, the seams pressing against his skin. He bounced the ball once, twice, then paused. A sudden wave of memory rushed through him. The crowd, the gym, the gameit all blurred. Instead, he saw a different court. A small, empty gym in California. A younger boy sat alone in a wheelchair, the cold metal pressing against his skin. His legsmotionless. Jonathan Brandit. His past self. He remembered the nights spent alone, staring at the hoop, gripping the ball, but never standing. The bitter cold of the gym when everyone else had left. The helplessness. The sound of the ball bouncing against the hardwood, only to roll away, untouched. The sound of his own breath, ragged, heavy, full of frustration. The sound of silencewhen no one believed in him anymore. Thenhe saw himself again. But this time, he was standing. Standing at the free-throw line, in the middle of a game, as Ethan Albarado. His heartbeat slowed. "(You''re not Jonathan Brandit anymore.)" "(You''re Ethan Albarado. )" He exhaled. Shaking off the memory, Ethan focused on the hoop in front of him. His grip on the ball tightened. Breathe in. Breathe out. He raised his arms, guiding the ball with perfect form. A smooth flick of the wrist. The ball sailed through the air, spinning in slow motion under the bright lights. It arced highclean, precise...then dropped. Swish. Nothing but net. The crowd, for just a moment, fell silent. Then "Holy crap." "Wait... that was smooth." "That shot... felt different." Even Alec Storm''s smug expression faltered. He narrowed his eyes. "This guy..." Lucas Graves, watched with a sharp grin. "I knew it... He is good" The referee signaled. "One point. Play resumes!" Ethan stepped back, his face unreadable. But deep insidehe knew. That was just the beginning. ... [Lucas side] Lucas sat on the bench, his fingers tapping idly against his knee, his golden eyes locked onto Ethan Albarado. That shot... it wasn''t normal. It wasn''t flashy. It wasn''t forced. It was clean. Perfect. Cold. The way the ball left his fingertips, the way it spun, the way it dropped through the net without even touching the rim. Lucas had seen great shooters before. He had studied them. But Ethanthis was different. That form. That control. That stillness. For a moment, Lucas almost forgot about the game. He just watched Ethan walk back down the court, his expression unreadable, his movements steady. The gym wasn''t loud, but it wasn''t quiet either. The energy had shifted. Even the Orlando players had taken notice. Lucas''s fingers curled into a fist. "Number 20..." His golden eyes flickered. "Ethan Albarado. I knew it." To be continue Chapter 13: Aiden White Backstory Chapter 13 - Aiden White Backstory "Some people are born great. Others have to fight for every inch."-Aiden White ..... Aiden White was never the strongest. Never the fastest. Growing up in a quiet California neighborhood, he had always been the smallest kid on the court. Basketball wasn''t just a game for himit was his way of proving himself. When other kids played for fun, Aiden played to survive. He wasn''t naturally gifted like the taller, stronger kids, but he refused to quit. He would stay after school for hours, working on his shot, his handles, his defense. But no matter how hard he triedhe was always overlooked. "You''re too small." "You can''t keep up." "You''re just a role player." He heard it all. And he hated it. But instead of giving up, he fought harder. Aiden''s older brother, Noah White, was a basketball prodigy. Noah was everything Aiden wasn''ttall, athletic, naturally talented. He was the star player at their middle school, winning championships, breaking records, and earning praise from coaches and scouts. Whenever Aiden introduced himself, people would always ask: "Oh, you''re Noah''s little brother?" Never Aiden. Always Noah''s little brother. Aiden hated it. Every time he played, he felt like he wasn''t just competing against his opponentshe was competing against his brother''s reputation. And no matter what he did, he always came up short. When Aiden and Noah reached high school, things changed. Noah had become a rising star, leading his team to the state championship. Colleges were scouting him, reporters were writing about him. And Aiden? He was just another guy on the bench. He worked hardharder than anyone. But in the end, his coaches still saw him as just a backup. Then, everything changed. In the middle of Noah''s senior year, during a big game, tragedy struck. A bad landing. A loud pop. A scream of pain. Noah White tore his ACL. His basketball career was over. Just like that. Gone. The doctors said he''d recover, but he''d never play at the same level again. Suddenly, Aiden wasn''t just Noah''s little brother anymore. He was the only White brother left on the court. After Noah''s injury, Aiden wasn''t overlooked anymore. He was expected to step up. Coaches pushed him harder. Teammates relied on him. His familyespecially his fatherput all their hopes on him. "Make up for what Noah lost." "Be the player your brother couldn''t be." "You have to carry the White name." Aiden wanted to scream. He loved Noah. He admired him. But he didn''t want to be his replacement. He wanted to be his own player. Still, he didn''t argue. He just worked harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. By the time he joined Vorpal Basket, Aiden had already built a reputation as a hardworking, defensive-minded player. But it didn''t matter. Because Vorpal Basket was a joke. No one respected them. No one expected them to win. Aiden wanted to leavehe wanted to play for a team that had a future. But he stayed. Why? Because of his little sister, Lily. Lily was 10 years old, and she adored her big brother. Even when no one else believed in Aiden, Lily always did. She came to every game. She sat in the front row. She cheered the loudest. Even when Vorpal Basket got blown out, she''d still yell: "Go, Aiden!! You''re the best!" Aiden never told her, but she was the only reason he kept playing. Because every time he wanted to quit, every time he wanted to walk away He''d look at Lily''s face in the crowd. And he knew. He had to keep going. For her. Then, came the Orlando Hoops game. Aiden wanted to prove himself more than ever. This was supposed to be his moment. His chance to show everyonehis teammates, the crowd, his little sisterthat he wasn''t just "Noah''s little brother." That he was Aiden White. But when the game started... It was a disaster. He struggled. He got locked down by Julian Cross. He got his shot blocked. He turned the ball over. And then He got injured. His ankle rolled hard. He collapsed on the court. Pain shot through his leg. The referee''s whistle blew. Everything felt blurry. But one thing was clear As he looked toward the stands... Lily wasn''t smiling anymore. She just looked disappointed. And that hurt more than the injury. As Aiden sat on the bench, watching Ethan Albarado check into the game, he felt something break inside him. He wanted to be happy that someone was stepping up. But deep down, all he felt was shame. He had worked his whole life to prove himself. And now, his moment was gone. He clenched his fists. (I don''t want to sit here and watch.) (I don''t want to be just another guy who tried and failed.) But... what could he do? His ankle was shot. His confidence was shattered. For the first time, Aiden White felt like maybe everyone was right about him. Maybe he really was just a role player. Maybe he really wasn''t meant to be a star. As he stared at the court, watching Lucas and Ethan take over... He asked himself the one question he had been avoiding his whole life. "Am I good enough?" Chapter 14 - 10: Ethan Albarado Chapter 14 - 10: Ethan Albarado Alec Storm dribbled the ball at the top of the key, his sharp eyes scanning the defense. His usual smirk was absenthis mind was racing. "This guy... that free throw... it felt like a veteran''s." Alec had played against elite shooters before, guys with insane form and limitless range. But Ethan Albarado? He wasn''t even on the scouting report. How? He glanced at Lucas Graves, the original problem. Lucas was already watching him, eyes gleaming with sharp intensity. That guy was dangerous. Alec knew that much. He had seen how Lucas mimicked their movesperfectly, effortlessly. At first, he thought Lucas was the only variable they needed to contain. A copycat. A dangerous one. But a copycat nonetheless. Now? Now, there was another unknown. Alec shifted his focus back to Ethan, who stood in a defensive stancecalm, poised, waiting. "Who is this guy?" He hadn''t seen Ethan play before. He hadn''t even heard his name. Yet the way he shot that free throw... the way he carried himself... That wasn''t just talent. That was experience. But that didn''t make sense. There was no way a benchwarmer, someone their scouts hadn''t even bothered looking into, could have that level of composure. That stillness. Alec''s fingers tightened around the ball as he dribbled. Lucas and Ethan. Two unknown variables. One a mimic. The other? Something else entirely. "Fine." Alec smirked slightly, shifting his stance. "Let''s see if you''re the real deal." He took a hard pound dribble and exploded forward, heading straight for Ethan Albarado. ... Ethan POV As I locked eyes with Alec Storm, I could tell exactly what he was thinking.He was going to test me. Fine by me. Bring it on. He started slow, keeping the dribble low, watching me for any reaction. His eyes locked onto mine, his body loose and fluid. Then He exploded to the right. A quick, powerful first step. His left foot pushed hard against the floor, his right knee drove forward, and the ball snapped from his left to his right hand. To any defender, it would look like a full-speed drive. But I didn''t move. Not even a flinch. It was a fake. Alec instantly stopped, trying to pull back the momentum. His pupils dilated in shock. He realized I didn''t bite. I read him. He dragged his right foot, planting it firmly to shift directions, but his slight hesitation gave it away. Now he was off-rhythm. He pounded the ball hard, trying to regain controlhis shoulders squared, eyes scanning for another opening. Too late. I was already ahead of his next move. He faked right again. Another sharp hesitation dribble. This time, he actually committed. He dropped his left shoulder and pushed forward, shifting the ball back to his left hand. A crossover. Quick. Deadly. Precise. But I was there. My feet slid effortlessly into position, my stance solid, arms wide. I cut him off clean. Alec''s breath hitched. He had never faced someone who read him this fast. "How did you" he muttered, still in disbelief. I smirked, keeping my stance. "Who knows?" The truth? I''ve seen this before. I''ve studied this before. Back when I was Jonathan Brandit. Back when I was stuck in a wheelchair, forced to only watch. For 14 years, I did nothing but study. Analyze. Memorize. Every move. Every fake. Every detail. And now? I''m not Jonathan Brandit. I''m Ethan Albarado. And this time I''m playing. ..... 3rd POV Alec Storm''s mind raced as he watched Ethan Albarado read his movements like an open book. His usual quickness, his deceptive fakesnone of it worked. "Who the hell is this guy?" Alec thought, his grip tightening on the ball. He knew he had to switch things up. His sharp eyes darted toward Mason Hayes. With a quick flick of his wrist, Alec whipped a pinpoint pass across the perimeter. The ball zipped through the air, landing smoothly in Mason''s hands. Mason''s dark blonde hair bounced slightly as he caught it. He barely had time to react before Lucas Graves was already in front of him. Mason clicked his tongue. "Tsk. This freak." Lucas''s golden eyes were locked onto him, unwavering. Mason knew better than to challenge him head-on. Without hesitation, Mason fired a pass inside the paintstraight to Jaxon Wells. Jaxon caught the ball deep in the post. Brandon Young, Vorpal''s center, was a step behind. Wide open lane. Jaxon knew exactly what to do. He took one massive step, planting his foot inside the key. His muscles tensed, his arms coiled, and then BOOM! Jaxon exploded into the air for a dunk. Brandon Young jumped alongside him, arms fully extended. A desperate attempt to block it. But Jaxon was too strong. Too high. The rim shook violently as Jaxon threw it down with authority. The crowd erupted. SLAM! Lucas was already sprinting toward the paint. His mind screamed: "I have to stop this!" Buthe was too late. Jaxon''s hands had already gripped the rim, the ball already flushing through the net. Mason saw Lucas coming and stepped in his way BANG! Lucas and Mason collided mid-air. Lucas gritted his teeth as he twisted his body, barely avoiding a full-body crash. Mason, who had braced for impact, stumbled backward, barely keeping his balance. The referee''s whistle shrieked through the gym. FOUL! Mason raised his hands, eyes wide in protest. "What? That wasn''t a foul!" Lucas exhaled, rubbing his arm. He knew it didn''t matter. The dunk had counted. The scoreboard changed. Orlando Hoops C 50 Vorpal Basket C 30 Jaxon Wells landed, glaring down at Lucas. "You can''t stop that." Lucas didn''t respond. He just clenched his fists, staring up at the rim. He knew it. That was power. That was domination. And right nowInstead of frustration, Lucas''s eyes burned with excitement. SLAP! Lucas smacked both of his cheeks, shaking off the weight of the last play. His golden eyes flickered with determination as he turned toward Jaxon. With a wide grin, he declared, "I WILL STOP IT!" Jaxon Wells, still standing near the rim, blinked in surprise. Lucas''s expression wasn''t arrogant. It wasn''t fueled by anger or desperation. It was pure passion. A deep love for the game. For a moment, Jaxon forgot about the competition, about the jersey Lucas wore. He just saw a ballplayer who loved basketball. Jaxon crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. "This guy..." he thought. "He''s serious." Mason Hayes scoffed, stepping beside Jaxon. "Tch. Big words, benchwarmer. You think you can stop Jaxon?" Lucas didn''t even look at him. His eyes were locked on Jaxon, filled with unwavering conviction. Jaxon exhaled, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Alright then... Show me." ... Ethan Albarado''s POV Watching from near half-court, I couldn''t help but smile. "This is why I idolized Lucas in Turning Point." Lucas Graves wasn''t just some prodigy with a god-given talent. He loved basketball more than anyone. He never played for fame. He never played for pride. He played to have fun. Even in this high-stakes game, even after getting dunked onhe smiled. It reminded me of myself when I was just a kid. Before the accident. Before the regrets. Back when I played purely for the joy of it. I clenched my fist. "Lucas... you''re not the only one who loves basketball." "I''m here too." And this timeI won''t just watch from the sidelines. ...... Evan Cooper dribbled the ball at the top of the key, his sharp eyes darting between his teammates. His grip on the ball tightened as he stole a quick glance at Ethan Albarado and Lucas Graves. "I didn''t know these two could play like that." Lucas had already proven his skills with his Absolute Mimicry, and Ethan... Evan wasn''t sure yet. But the way Alec Storm''s eyes flickered with suspicion toward Ethanthat meant something. With Alec still pressing on him, Evan made a quick decision. "Let''s see what you got, Albarado." A sharp chest pass shot toward Ethan. The ball hit Ethan''s hands smoothly, but he barely reacted. Instead, his blue eyes scanned the floor. At that moment, the court slowed down. Not because of some supernatural abilitybut because of his new skill. .... [Skill Activated: Playmaker''s Vision (Advanced)] - Decision-making ability drastically enhanced. - Passing accuracy and court awareness significantly improved. - Makes teammates more effective on offense. .... Ethan''s pupils dilated. He could see what people couldn''t see. Every open lane. Every defensive gap. Every subtle movement of his teammates and opponents. Alec Storm was pressuring Evan. Mason Hayes was too focused on Lucas. Julian Cross was hovering in the middle, watching for a steal. Ethan Blake was locked into the paint, covering Brandon Young. Ethan smirked. "Let''s run a play." He took a single hard dribble to the leftbaiting Alec and Julian into thinking he was going to drive. Instantly, Julian Cross shifted slightly toward him. That tiny mistake was all he needed. Ethan faked a step forward, thenSNAP! A lightning-quick behind-the-back pass shot toward Lucas Graves on the right wing. Lucas caught it perfectly in rhythm. Mason Hayes, caught off guard by the pass, reacted a split second too late. Lucas drove hard toward the baseline. Julian Cross, realizing the mistake, rushed to cut him off. But Ethan wasn''t done. Before Julian could reach Lucas, Ethan darted forward into the paint. Lucas saw him. Lucas trusted him. A quick bounce pass left Lucas''s handsright into Ethan''s stride. One step. Two steps. Ethan planted his feet and SNAP-PASS! Instead of going for the shot, Ethan whipped a no-look pass backward to Brandon Young, who was wide open under the rim. Brandon''s eyes widened. "Shit!" Instinct kicked in. He jumped up and slammed the ball into the hoop. SWOOSH! ... The gym exploded. The entire sequence happened in mere seconds, but for everyone watching, it was like magic. "What the hell was that!?" a spectator shouted. Mason Hayes clicked his tongue. "Damn itthis guy..." Even Alec Storm narrowed his eyes. "That was... Playmaking." Not just simple passes. Not just vision. It was control. .... Ethan Albarado''s POV As Brandon landed, looking slightly stunned at his own dunk, I grinned. "Looks like my skills finally showed up." Lucas nudged me with his elbow. "Yo. That was sick." I smirked. "I know." Evan walked past, shaking his head but smiling. "Okay, Albarado. I see you." The scoreboard flashed. ----- Orlando Hoops C 50 Vorpal Basket C 34 (+2) ----- Alec Storm took the ball for the inbound pass, but this time, his smirk was gone. For the first time in this game Orlando Hoops looked... cautious. I cracked my knuckles. "Yeah. Keep watching, Alec. This is just the beginning." .... The screech of the referee''s whistle echoed through the gym. Timeout: Vorpal Basket. Coonie Smith let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. "This fat pig of a coach... He calls a timeout now? When we''re finally building momentum? Fucking idiot." His hands clenched into fists as he glanced around at his teammates. For the first time this seasonhell, maybe the first time everVorpal Basket wasn''t completely getting embarrassed. They were fighting. And it was because of two players. Lucas Graves. Ethan Albarado. Coonie''s sharp black eyes locked onto Lucas. "Lucas was always decent, but not like this." Before today, Lucas was just another bench player. He hustled, worked hard, but his skills? Average. Now? He was mimicking moves that should''ve taken years to master. His footwork. His ball-handling. His defense. Flawless. "How the hell did he improve this fast?" Coonie stole a glance at his other bench teammates. Their expressions said everything. They were all thinking the same thing. Lucas Graves wasn''t just betterhe was unrecognizable. But then there was Ethan. Coonie turned his gaze toward the newest surprise on the team. Ethan Albarado. The former water boy. A guy who had never stepped onto the court in an official game. Coonie scowled, rubbing his forehead. "We never saw him play because this fatass coach never gave him a chance." The truth stung. "If only Coach Mason had subbed Ethan in earlier in the season..." "Maybejust maybewe could''ve won at least one fucking game." He clicked his tongue in irritation. Why did it take this long? Why did it take a forced substitution for Coach Mason to put him in? Because of that bullshit favoritism, Vorpal Basket had been stuck with the same useless starters every game. Coonie clenched his fists tighter, his nails digging into his palms. Then, for the first time in the game His eyes dropped down to the floor. A bitter chuckle slipped out. "I hope I can play too..." The thought made his chest tighten. Because deep downhe knew the truth. Right now, Ethan and Lucas were the ones changing the game. And Coonie? Coonie was still just another nameless benchwarmer. To be continue Chapter 15: Side - : The Humiliation Chapter 15 - Side Chapter: The Humiliation Location: Chicago, Illinois C Chicago Loak University The thunderous echoes of sneakers squeaking against polished hardwood filled the air. The gymnasium smelled of sweat and desperation, the stale remnants of a battle that had long since been lost. A battle that never even felt like one. The scoreboard burned with a cruel, undeniable truth: Chicago Raptors C 80 Vorpal Basket C 20 A massacre. Evan Cooper sat on the bench, his elbows on his knees, head hanging low. Josh Turner clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white. Ryan Taylor refused to look at anyone, his broad shoulders hunched over, eyes fixed on the floor. Brandon Young sat with an empty expression, sweat dripping down his forehead. Lucas Graves? Lucas couldn''t move. His golden eyes were locked on the court, his stomach twisting as he watched the one player who had orchestrated this humiliation. Jalen "Flash" Carter. Chicago Raptors'' star point guard. 6''2" of pure, unrelenting speed. A maestro on the court. An explosive playmaker. Jalen stood at the top of the key, bouncing the ball with an almost bored expression. His teammates had stopped celebrating. The crowd had stopped caring. This wasn''t a game. It was a show. And Jalen was the star. The shot clock ticked down. Jalen rocked the ball side to side, looking up at the defenseor what was left of it. No one even tried to stop him anymore. The crowd laughed. A slow, humiliating chuckle that spread through the gym like wildfire. Jalen smirked. "Yo, y''all just givin'' up?" he called out, his voice dripping with amusement. "Ain''t nobody gonna guard me?" Silence. Lucas''s nails dug into his palm. He wanted to stand. He wanted to do something. But he couldn''t. Jalen let out a mock sigh, shaking his head. "Damn. Y''all really let me get bored out here." Then, in a blur He moved. One crossover. Two. Lightning-fast footwork. He cut through the lifeless defense like a blade through paper. One dribble. Two. Thena no-look pass. Behind the back. Straight to his teammate under the rim. Slam! The backboard rattled. The gym erupted. Lucas didn''t even realize he had stopped breathing. His fists trembled. His pride shattered. The referee barely even hesitated before blowing the final whistle. Game over. Evan didn''t look up. Josh exhaled, shaking his head. Ryan muttered something under his breath. Lucas? Lucas never forgot this night. Jalen Carter wiped the sweat off his forehead as he walked past the wreckage of Vorpal Basket. Not a glance. Not a second thought. As if they were nothing. But thenhe paused. He turned back, his cocky smirk still in place. "Yo, Evan." Evan flinched but forced himself to look up. Jalen chuckled. "Tell your coach to forfeit next time." Then, without another word, he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and walked away. Like they never even mattered. ... Locker Room C Silence The air was thick. Not with sweat. Not with exhaustion. But with shame. No one spoke. Ryan Taylor sat with his head buried in his hands. Josh Turner ripped the tape off his fingers with so much force it left marks. Coach Mason? He barely looked at them. "We''re done here," he muttered. "Same story, different team." Lucas couldn''t breathe. His hands shook. This feelingthis helplessness. He hated it. He would never forget it. And one dayone day, he would return the favor. He would make sure Jalen Carter never laughed at them again. ... Ethan sat at the end of the bench, staring at the scoreboard. The numbers blurred. Something about this loss... Something about this humiliation... It felt familiar. Like he had felt this before. Like he had lost everything before. His fists clenched. His breath shook. And in that momentdeep in his soulhe knew. This wasn''t the first time. And it wouldn''t be the last. But next time? Next time, he wouldn''t be watching from the bench. Next timehe would be on the court. And he would win. The End Chapter 16: Turning Point" – The Story of Lucas Graves Chapter 16 - Turning Point" C The Story of Lucas Graves "Turning Point" is the basketball novel that Extra Basket takes place in, and its protagonist, Lucas Graves, is not a naturally talented player. Unlike the typical sports prodigies, Lucas was born without special physical gifts, insane shooting accuracy, or natural talent. What set him apart? His unbreakable work ethic. Before gaining Absolute Mimicry, Lucas was an average player at best. His shooting was inconsistent, his dribbling was basic, and he lacked the raw physical explosiveness of elite players. He was constantly overshadowed by naturally gifted athletes who had better height, speed, and talent. But there was one thing nobody could matchhis stamina, endurance, and obsessive dedication to improvement. Lucas was the first one in the gym and the last one to leave.He practiced relentlessly, training harder than anyone else.He ran more laps, did more drills, and pushed his body beyond its limits every single day.No matter how many times he lost, he never gave up. Lucas wasn''t the best playerbut he was the hardest worker. In Turning Point, Lucas Graves faces off against The Gods, an elite team of five players whose skills are so overwhelming that they seem almost supernatural. Each member embodies the essence of a mythological deity, dominating the court with their unique abilities. ... "Zeus" C The Absolute King (Team Captain, Small Forward) Real Name: Adrian Holt Height: 6''5" Build: Athletic, muscular, broad shoulders, with an aura of pure dominance. Appearance: White-blond hair, electric blue eyes that see only one truthhis truth. Playstyle: The Absolute Force C What He Decides Becomes Reality on the Court. Abilities: Absolute Way C Unlike Lucas'' Absolute Mimicry, which copies and refines, Adrian''s power is unchallenged. If he decides his shot will go in, then it will. If he decides a path to the basket exists, then it does. There is no questioning his realitybecause he is absolute. Indomitable Presence C His aura alone suppresses weaker players, making them doubt their own skills. The very air around him makes his opponents hesitate. King''s Domain C Within his presence, everything bends to his will. His teammates play better, his opponents struggle under his dominance, and no referee dares to question his plays. Personality: Unshakable. Unstoppable. Undeniable. Adrian does not believe in competitionhe believes in victory. To him, basketball is not a battle. It is a kingdom, and he is its unchallenged ruler. .... "Hades" C The King of the Underworld (Shooting Guard) Real Name: Dante Vasquez Height: 6''4" Build: Lean, wiry, and deceptively strong Appearance: Jet-black hair, piercing crimson eyes, his movements as silent as death itself Playstyle: The Silent Assassin C The Game Ends Before You Realize It. Abilities: Shadow Step C Moves without making a sound, appearing in passing lanes at the perfect moment to steal and vanish. Phantom Shot C A deadly mid-range fadeaway that never misses once he has locked onto his target. Death Grip C Once he marks an opponent, that player will not score. His defense erases players from the game like they never existed. Personality: Cold. Eerie. Dante barely speaks, but his eyes carry the weight of a thousand battles. To him, the court is his graveyard, and his opponents are already buried. .... "Poseidon" C The Lord of the Sea (Point Guard) Real Name: Kai Nakamura Height: 6''1" Build: Agile and fluid, built for speed Appearance: Deep blue hair, ocean-green eyes that reflect the waves Playstyle: The Flowmaster C The Court Moves at His Command. Abilities: Wave Control C His dribbling is so fluid, defenders feel like they''re chasing a shadow on water. Tsunami Pass C Full-court passes that bend around defenders like waves crashing over rocks. Drowning Defense C Opposing point guards feel trapped in his suffocating defense, as if the ocean itself is swallowing them. Personality: Calm and unshakable, Kai moves like the tidesgentle, until he becomes unstoppable. He never forces plays. He simply flows where the game allows him. ... "Ares" C The God of War (Power Forward) Real Name: Marcus Reid Height: 6''5" Build: Massive, broad-chested, pure muscle Appearance: Fiery red hair, intense amber eyes, always looks like he''s ready to fight Playstyle: The Berserker C Pure Unrelenting Destruction. Abilities: Warpath C A relentless post scorer who bulldozes through defenders without mercy. Battle Armor C Absorbs contact without flinching, making him unstoppable in the paint. Fearless Rebounding C No one fights harder for a loose ball. He will run through opponents to grab a rebound. Personality: Hot-blooded and aggressive, Marcus plays like every game is a battlefield. He does not care about finesseonly domination. "Chronos" C The God of Time (Center) Real Name: Lucien Weiss Height: 7''0" Build: Long and lanky, yet eerily controlled Appearance: Silver hair, golden eyes, moves as if he''s always one step ahead Playstyle: The Timeless Guardian C The Game Moves at His Speed. Abilities: Future Sight C He anticipates plays before they even happen, always positioning himself perfectly. Eternal Block C His shot-blocking instincts are so precise, he barely has to jump to swat away shots. Slowed Perception C His movements feel unnaturally smooth, as if time bends around him, making him unpredictable. Personality: Quiet and unshaken, Lucien never rushes. To him, basketball is just a game of timingand he always controls it. Chapter 17 - 11: Alec The Elite Chapter 17 - Chapter 11: Alec The Elite Time Left in the Second Quarter: 1:10 Coach Guy Corson stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, his sharp eyes locked onto the court. Outwardly, he looked calm. But inside? He was pissed. (Where the hell did this kid come from?)" His team had prepared for Vorpal Basket''s usual weak roster. They had studied Evan Cooper, Aiden White, Ryan Taylor, Brandon Young. Evan Cooper? A solid point guard, but predictable. Josh Turner? A streaky shooter. Ryan Taylor? Limited offensive skill. Brandon Young? Just a rebounder. Aiden White? Inconsistent. They didn''t even bother scouting the bench players. Because why would they? But now? That nobody, Ethan Albarado and Lucas Grave, was wrecking their rhythm. Especially that Ethan Albarado "(I underestimated him. That''s on me.)" Every time Orlando Hoops adjusted, they countered. Every time they pressured Ethan, he found the right pass. Every time they tried to suffocate the offense, he created an opening. Coach Corson''s fingers twitched in frustration. (This is bad. If we let him get comfortable, they''ll think they have a chance.) He turned his gaze to Alec Storm. The point guard was dribbling up the court, his usual cocky smirk still there, but his eyes... They were serious now. Corson took a deep breath, then barked his order: "Enough playing around." His voice was sharp. Cold. The Orlando starters snapped to attention. Corson''s expression darkened. "Shut that kid down. I don''t care how. Make sure he never touches the ball again." There was no hesitation. No questioning. Just obedience. Alec grinned. "Got it, Coach." Mason Hayes cracked his knuckles. "About time." Julian Cross, standing near half-court, nodded. Ethan Blake clenched his fists. Jaxon Wells stretched his neck. And just like that Orlando Hoops was about to get really serious. "(For now, I''ll observe that kid...)" Corson thought." (And then come up with a plan to shut him down completely.)" ..... Ethan Albarado felt it immediately. The shift. The energy on the court had changed. Alec Storm wasn''t playing around anymore. Before, he had been messing with them, testing their reactions, sizing them up. But now? Every dribble. Every step. Every glance. It all had purpose. Lucas Graves, standing near the three-point line, noticed it too. His golden eyes sharpened. "(Whoah... this is different.)" Alec dribbled up the court, his movements fluid, controlled. Evan Cooper, Vorpal Basket''s point guard, dropped into a defensive stance. Arms wide. Knees bent. Ready. Alec studied him. Then He attacked. His right foot slammed against the floor. A sharp, explosive first step. Evan reactedbut too slow. Alec had already shifted gears. He snapped the ball from his right hand to his left. A quick crossover. Evan''s weight shifted, his balance breaking for just a second And Alec spun off of it. Smooth. Fast. Deadly. Lucas rushed in to help. Too late. Alec was already in the air. A perfect floater. Soft touch. Perfect arc. Swish. Bucket. ... Score Update Orlando Hoops C 52 Vorpal Basket C 36 The crowd erupted. The gym shook with cheers and whistles. But on the Orlando bench? No reaction. No celebration. Because to them...this was normal. This was just Alec Storm being Alec Storm. Coach Corson didn''t even flinch. He just crossed his arms, nodding slightly. "(That''s more like it.)" ... Ethan Albarado dribbled up the court. His breathing was steady, his mind racing. He knew what was coming. And yet The moment he crossed half-court They trapped him. Alec Storm. Mason Hayes. Two of the best defenders on Orlando Hoops. Alec pressed him hard, his body low, his arms spread wide. His eyes, sharp and calculating, tracked every micro-movement Ethan made. Mason Hayes stepped up beside him, his stance just as aggressive, cutting off Ethan''s right. Double-team. Ethan''s fingers instinctively tightened around the ball. He knew he needed to movefast. He tried to passbut Mason was already there. His long arms blocked the passing lane, his footwork impeccable. Ethan''s heart pounded. He glanced to his leftLucas Graves. A quick dish, and Lucas could reset the offense. But Julian Cross was denying the pass. Lucas moved, cutting across the perimeter. Julian moved with him. Shadowing him. Sticking to him like glue. Ethan swallowed hard. No passing lanes. No escape. The shot clock was winding down. 10 seconds. 9. Ethan''s eyes darted toward the rim. Screw it. I''ll take it myself. He faked left Spun right And immediately Alec Storm was already there. Ethan barely had time to react. Alec didn''t bite. He didn''t flinch. He just read the move. Anticipated it. Like he had seen it a thousand times before. Ethan''s stomach dropped. Shit. Before he could recover Mason Hayes reached in. A blur of hands. A hard swipe. The ball was gone. Steal. Alec caught the loose ball And took off. Fast break. Ethan turnedtoo slow. Lucas sprinted backtoo late. Alec Storm was already at the rim. One step Two BOOM!! Alec slammed the ball through the hoop. The backboard shook. The crowd ERUPTED. The sound was deafening. The Orlando bench was on their feet, hollering, clapping. Even Coach Guy Corsonwho had been furious just a moment agogave a small nod. Because thisthis was dominance. [Scoreboard Update:] Orlando Hoops C 54 Vorpal Basket C 36 Lucas wiped the sweat from his forehead, his golden eyes flicking toward Ethan. Ethan''s chest was rising and falling quickly. His fingers flexed. His jaw was tight. Frustration. Alec Storm landed smoothly, stepping back onto defense, a smirk playing at his lips. As he walked past Ethan, he didn''t even slow down. Didn''t even turn his head. But his words were sharp. "You had a good run. But better luck next time." Then, without waiting for a response He was already gone. Ethan clenched his fists. His blood boiled. ........ Damn. That was too easy. Lucas Graves stood near the three-point line, hands resting on his knees as he caught his breath. His golden eyes locked onto Alec Storm, who had just finished one of the cleanest plays of the night. Lucas had watched Alec move before. Had studied him. Had mimicked him. But this? This was different. Faster. Sharper. Cleaner. Alec wasn''t just playing anymore. He was showing why he was elite. Across the court, Ethan Albarado clenched his fists. His jaw tightened, his breath came in slow, controlled exhales, but Lucas could see it. That flicker of frustration in his expression. Ethan was competitive. He had always been. But this? This was something else. Alec jogged back on defense, his movements relaxed. Effortless. Like that playlike that entire sequencemeant nothing to him. And then, as he passed Ethan, he threw him a quick glance. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Casual. Confident. Inevitable. "Hey, you had a good run." His tone was light. Like they were just messing around in practice. Then "But better luck next time." Alec didn''t even slow down. Didn''t wait for a response. Because in his mindthis wasn''t up for debate. It was a fact. Lucas saw Ethan''s body tense. The slight shift in his posture. The way his fingers curled into fists, his knuckles turning white. He knew that feeling. That rage bubbling beneath the surface. The refusal to accept what had just happened. Lucas could see it in Ethan''s stance. The realization sinking in. Alec meant every word. And that That pissed Ethan off even more. ... [3rd Person POV] The gym was buzzing. Alec Storm''s dunk had sent a shockwave through the court. Vorpal Basket''s momentum? Gone. Ethan Albarado stood frozen near half-court, his chest rising and falling. His fists clenched. His stomach twisted. His mind was racing. (What the hell just happened?) Everything had been fine just a minute ago. Lucas was making plays. Ethan was controlling the tempo. The game was within reach. And thenAlec Storm happened. Alec''s moves weren''t flashy. They weren''t exaggerated. They were efficient. Deadly. Sharp. He didn''t just outplay Ethan. He dismantled him. And that last play? That wasn''t just a dunk. That was a message. "You had a good run." "Better luck next time." Ethan''s jaw tightened. "(You think this is over?)" He took a step forward Then he heard it. A voice. Not from the crowd. Not from a teammate. From within himself. Jonathan Brandit''s voice. His past self. "It''s happening again, isn''t it?" Ethan froze. "You''re gonna lose. Just like before." His breath hitched. "No matter what you do, they''re just better than you." He tried to block it out. But the past kept creeping back. That hospital room. That empty gym. That wheelchair. That feeling of helplessness. Ethan''s heartbeat pounded in his ears. Was it happening again? Was it happening again? Was he breaking? Was he going to be powerless all over again? No. His fists clenched. His breath steadied. His blue eyes hardened. "(No... I''m Ethan Albarado.)" "(And I won''t give up until I win.)" Lucas Graves caught it immediately. The shift. The tension in Ethan''s posturegone. The fear in his eyesgone. Instead That calm smirk was back. Lucas''s golden eyes flickered. "(Oh... hell yeah.)" Ethan cracked his knuckles, exhaling slowly. Then he called outloud and clear. "Hey." Alec, already dribbling up the court, paused. The gym went silent. Ethan''s smirk widened. "Run it back." The crowd erupted. Lucas grinned. Evan Cooper, still catching his breath, chuckled. Coonie Smith let out a low whistle. Mason Hayes blinked in surprise. Even Coach Corson narrowed his eyes. Alec Storm? He stopped. His fingers gripped the basketball tighter. Then, slowlyhe turned. He locked eyes with Ethan. And for the first time in the game Alec grinned. "Alright." "Let''s see" To be continue Chapter 18: Author Chapter 18 - Author Hey everyone, I just wanted to take a moment to apologize for the lack of updates. I''ve been sick for the past three days, and honestly, I''m still not feeling great. Writing while sick is tough, and I don''t want to put out something half-hearted just for the sake of an update. I appreciate everyone''s patience and support really means a lot. As soon as I recover, I''ll be back to writing at full force. For now, I just need a bit of time to rest and get better. Thanks for understanding, and I hope to bring you all some great content soon! Stay safe and take care. Chapter 19 - 12: The Tandem Chapter 19 - 12: The Tandem Time Left in the Second Quarter: 0:40 The gym was buzzing. The momentum had shifted. The Orlando Hoops felt it. The Vorpal Basket players felt it. And now? It was time to act. Evan Cooper dribbled at the top of the key. His eyes locked onto Ethan Albarado. A silent understanding passed between them. Ethan moved first. A sharp cut to the left. His yellow jersey flashed past Mason Hayes, who tried to react Too late. Ethan was already gone. Alec Storm''s sharp eyes tracked him, his body tensing. (Where''s he going?) Then It hit him. Alec''s eyes flicked to Evan. He knew. (Shit, they''re running a play around him!) Alec took off, closing the distance toward Ethan But suddenly Lucas Graves stepped in. Screen. Alec bounced off Lucas''s shoulder, his balance breaking for just a moment. "Tsk." Alec clicked his tongue in frustration. Lucas look at him seriously. "You''re not stopping him this time." .... [Ethan POV] I saw Evan''s pass before he even made it. His fingers snapped the ball toward me, the leather slapping perfectly into my grip. Perfect timing. Perfect rhythm. I had an opening. I took it. One quick dribble. Two. ThenI attacked. Alec, still recovering from the screen, tried to react Too slow. I stepped into the mid-range. Jaxon Wells, their 6''7" center, stepped up to contest. His arms stretched high, his body wide. A tower in the paint. ButI already knew he was coming. I stopped mid-stride and pulled the ball back. Pump fake. Jaxon bit. His arms shot up. I smirked. (Too easy.) I took one smooth step to the side Open shot. I let it fly. The ball arced high The crowd held their breath. Swish. Bucket. The gym exploded. ..... [Scoreboard Update:] Orlando Hoops C 54 Vorpal Basket C 38 Lucas clapped his hands. Evan grinned. Even Ryan Taylor, usually quiet, pumped his fist. We were still down. But now? We were fighting back. .... [Alec Storm POV] I exhaled slowly. (So, that''s how it is, huh?) I stared at Ethan Albarado. The guy who was just down a minutes ago. Now? He was controlling the rhythm. And worst of all? He wasn''t afraid of me. I licked my lips, a grin forming. "Alright, Albarado." "Let''s see if you can keep up." .... [Ethan Albarado POV] I glanced at my system screen, my eyes scanning the numbers. [Basketball Power System] Name: Ethan Albarado Level: Rookie Upgrade Points (UP): 0 Shop Points (SP): 100 [Core Attributes] [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 11Layup Skill: 4Dunk Skill: 3Dribbling Skill: 14Passing Skill: 5 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 3Blocking Ability: 3Steal Skill: 4 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 4Endurance: 4Speed: 9 (Base: 4 | +5 Upgraded) [Skills:] Basic Power Shot C Allows for standard shooting with average accuracy.Basic Precision Pass C Enhances accuracy in simple passes.Basic Dribble C Fundamental ball-handling skills.Magic Johnson Passing Vision (Intermediate Level) C Significantly improves court vision and playmaking abilities.Playmaker''s Vision (Advanced) C Upgrades passing accuracy, decision-making, and assists, making teammates more effective. I smirked. (I already used my UP points and upgraded my shooting accuracy and dribbling.) My fingers flexed as I let the system window fade away. (It''s time for payback.) I lifted my gaze toward my teammates. Lucas. Evan. Ryan. Brandon. Every single one of them was ready. I exhaled sharply. (They think they can shut me down?). I turned my attention to Alec Storm. He stood at the top of the key, bouncing the ball lazily, his eyes locked onto me. A smirk tugged at his lips. "So, you''re still standing?" I rolled my shoulders, my smirk matching his. "You talk a lot for someone who just got scored on." His smirk twitched, but his eyes remained sharp. "Cute. Let''s see if you can keep that confidence." [3rd Person POV] Alec Storm dribbled up the court, his movements smooth and controlled. He wasn''t rushing. He wasn''t panicking. He was picking his moment. Evan Cooper squared up in front of him, knees bent, arms wide. Alec grinned. Then A sudden burst of speed. Alec crossed rightthen lefthis movements crisp, effortless. Evan bit. Just a little. That was all Alec needed. A quick spin move. Evan lost his footingjust for a second. That was enough. Alec drove past him. Ryan Taylor stepped up to help. Too late. Alec floated the ball over him. Jaxon Wells caught it mid-air Slam! The rim shook violently. The crowd exploded. .... [Scoreboard Update:] Orlando Hoops C 56 Vorpal Basket C 38 [Ethan Albarado POV] I stared at Alec. His eyes flicked toward me, amusement dancing in them. "You''re up, Let''s see what you got." I smirked, walking toward Evan as he inbounded the ball. As I caught it, I glanced at Lucas. (Watch this, Lucas.) I dribbled up the court, Alec shadowing me instantly. His stance was low. His footwork perfect. He was ready. I kept my dribble slow. Calm. Controlled. ThenI snapped it into a quick crossover. Alec''s eyes narrowed, tracking the movement. He didn''t bite. Smart. But that wasn''t my real move. I pushed forward, shifting my weight Alec anticipated it. I saw it in his stance. He expected me to drive. (Wrong.) At the last second, I stopped on a dime. Alec, caught off guard, took an extra step forward. I had space. Just enough. But I wasn''t going to take the shot. I wanted him to see it. Lucas Graves. I looked at himand made sure he was watching. Then With a flick of my wrist, I whipped a pinpoint pass straight to him. The ball zipped through the air, clean, sharp. Lucas caught itperfectly in rhythm. His golden eyes locked onto mine for a split second. I nodded. (Your turn, Lucas.) Lucas grinned, gripping the ball tightly. He didn''t hesitate. With one quick jab step, he sent Mason Hayes stumbling back. Thenhe rose up. A smooth, confident jump shot. Mason lunged, but Lucas''s release was too fast. The ball sailed through the air. Perfect arc. Perfect rotation. Swish. Bucket. .... [Scoreboard Update:] Orlando Hoops C 56 Vorpal Basket C 40 ..... The crowd murmured, buzzing. Even the Orlando bench looked slightly thrown off. Alec Storm''s smirk twitched. Lucas jogged back on defense, his golden eyes flickering with excitement. As he passed me, he smirked. "That pass was cold, Ethan." I chuckled. "Get used to it." Lucas let out a small laugh, shaking his head. I turned toward Lucas, stepping closer so no one else could hear me. "I have a plan." Lucas raised an eyebrow ... [3rd Person POV] Alec Storm dribbled the ball at the top of the key, his sharp eyes scanning the Vorpal Basket defense. Julian Cross, standing near the wing, locked eyes with Alec. A silent understanding passed between them. Alec gave a small nod. Julian nodded back. Evan Cooper, watching their exchange, immediately braced himself. (He''s passing to Julian!) Alec''s eyes flicked toward Julian. His right hand twitcheda sharp, sudden motion. A fake pass. Evan took the bait. He lunged toward Julianonly to realize his mistake. "Shit!" Evan cursed as he realized the ball was still in Alec''s hands. On the bench, Josh Turner, still icing his injured ankle, clenched his fists. (Damn, that was a fake?) Alec smirked. But before he could make his next move Lucas Graves was already standing in front of him. Alec''s eyes widened. (Fuckhow did he get here?!) Lucas''s golden eyes gleamed with sharp intensity. He had read Alec''s movement. Anticipated it. And now? He was cutting off his path completely. Alec clenched his jaw. This wasn''t part of the plan. From the sideline, Ethan Albarado watched the scene unfold, his blue eyes flashing with amusement. He grinned. (Bingo.) ..... (During the plan) I pulled Lucas aside before the play started. The crowd noise buzzed in the background, but I kept my voice low. "I know Alec''s movements now." Lucas blinked, his golden eyes flickering with curiosity. "You do?" His tone was filled with enthusiasm, a grin forming on his face. I smirked, glancing toward Alec, who was dribbling near the top of the key. "Just follow his movements. He always fakes his passes. Every single time. And these idiots" I casually nodded toward Evan and the others, "always fall for it." Lucas turned his head slightly, observing Evan, who had no idea he was part of the conversation. "Well... not that I can deny it." Lucas let out a small chuckle. I crossed my arms. "I know you can follow his moves, right?" Lucas stared at me for a moment, his smirk fading just a little. "You..." I raised an eyebrow. "Come on, you copy his moves. It''s only natural that you can predict his movements." Lucas hesitated for a split second. (Well, that''s not the only reason.) I thought. (The real reason is because of your eyesAbsolute Mimicry. But I won''t bring it up. Not now. He''ll tell me when he''s ready... or in the future.) Lucas exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ehehe, you''re right. If I can copy his moves, then I can definitely follow his movements." I smirked. Lucas let out a relieved sigh, sneaking a quick glance at me. He was relieved. Not because of the plan But because I didn''t mention his secret. For now, that was fine. .... [Back to the Present C 3rd Person POV] Alec Storm''s eyes widened slightly as he stared at Lucas Graves, who now stood firmly in front of him. "You..." Alec muttered, his smirk faltering for the first time. Lucas, fired up, locked eyes with himhis golden irises practically glowing with excitement. Alec''s breath hitched for just a second. (This guy... so much passion...) It wasn''t just the way Lucas moved. It wasn''t just his quick reactions. It was his eyes. That burning passion for basketball. Alec had seen that look before. It was the kind of look only the truly obsessed had. The ones who played not for stats, not for glory, but simply because they loved the game. Alec clicked his tongue. "Tsk." He had no time to hesitate. Alec faked another pass But Lucas didn''t flinch. His feet didn''t move. His eyes never left Alec. Alec''s stomach churned. (He read it?) Then Ethan Albarado shifted his stance slightly. His fingers twitched. His smirk widened. (I''ll steal the ball at the right moment.) Across the court, another set of sharp eyes observed him. Ethan Blake. The starting power forward of Orlando Hoops. His brows furrowed slightly as he focused on Ethan Albarado, who was smirking like he had already won. Ethan Blake exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. (This fucker''s smirking...) Alec Storm gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening around the ball. He could feel the pressure closing inLucas in front of him, Ethan Albarado lurking nearby like a predator waiting to strike. For the first time in the game... He felt cornered. But Alec Storm wasn''t a top player for nothing. He adjusted his grip, faking another pass. Lucas, flinched. Alec smirked. (Got him) But before he could make his next move SWIPE! A hand shot out. Clean. Fast. Precise. The ball was gone. Alec''s eyes widened in shock. "What the?!" The ball was no longer in his hands. He whipped his head around Ethan Albarado had it. (Bingo.) Ethan thought, his smirk widening as he sprinted down the court. The entire gym erupted in noise. "HE STOLE IT!" Lucas grinned. "Nice one!" Alec, still in shock, took a fraction of a second to reacttoo late. Ethan was already gone. ... [Ethan Albarado POV] The wind rushed past my ears as I bolted down the court. I could feel Alec right behind me. I could hear his footsteps, his rapid breathing But I wasn''t stopping. (Time to see if my upgrades paid off!) I checked the scoreboard in the corner of my vision. [Scoreboard Update:] Orlando Hoops C 56 Vorpal Basket C 40 I needed to score. Fast. Alec was gaining on me. Mason Hayes was already in the paint, waiting. (If I go straight for the layup, he''ll block it. If I slow down, Alec will strip me from behind.) Then Lucas Graves. He was trailing slightly to my right, keeping up with my pace. I smirked. (Perfect.) I planted my left foothard. Then, at the last second I flipped a behind-the-back pass toward Lucas. Alec''s eyes widened. "Shit!" Lucas caught it smoothly. One step Two Lucas jumped. Mason reacted too late. BOOM! Lucas slammed the ball through the hoop. The rim rattled violently. The gym EXPLODED. ..... [Scoreboard Update:] Orlando Hoops C 56 Vorpal Basket C 42 Lucas landed smoothly, his golden eyes flashing as he turned toward me. He grinned. "You are really good." I smirked back. "You too." The energy shifted. The momentumwas ours. Alec Storm, still standing at half-court, clenched his fists. His jaw tightened. His smirk was gone. For the first time He was feeling something.... Something that was missing. To be continue Chapter 20: Author says sorry Chapter 20 - Author says sorry I apologize for the delayed upload, which was six days late. My college life has been incredibly hectic, with assignments, projects, and exams piling up, leaving me with little time to focus on creating content. I appreciate your patience and understanding Chapter 21 - 13: Diagonal Pass Chapter 21 - 13: Diagonal Pass [Halftime C Orlando Hoops Locker Room] The Orlando Hoops locker room was quiet. Too quiet. The scoreboard outside showed 59-43, a solid lead. But no one was celebrating. Coach Guy Corson sat on the edge of a bench, his clipboard resting on his lap. He wasn''t looking at the numbers. He was looking at his playersthe five starters who were supposed to be dominating this game. Instead, they were working harder than expected. Alec Storm leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, his usual smirk absent. Mason Hayes sat beside him, rolling his wrist, annoyed. Julian Cross was staring at the floor, lost in thought. Ethan Blake cracked his knuckles, his irritation clear. Jaxon Wells stretched his arms, letting out a slow exhale. The silence stretched, tense and heavy. Coach Corson finally spoke. "Alright. Let''s get one thing straight." His voice was calm, but sharp, slicing through the tension like a blade. "I came into this game thinking we were gonna walk all over them. That this was just another warm-up before we played against real competition." Alec scoffed. "Aren''t we?" Corson''s eyes snapped to him. "Look at the damn score, Storm. Do we look like we''re crushing them?" Alec shut his mouth, clicking his tongue in frustration. Corson leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze moved from one player to another. "I thought Vorpal Basket was nothing but a trash-tier team. And yeah, maybe most of them still are. But two of them" he pointed his clipboard at the board, tapping it twice. "are a problem." Mason rolled his eyes. "That Lucas Graves guy?" Corson nodded. "Yeah. Number 10. The copycat." Julian exhaled through his nose, arms crossed. "Annoying as hell." Corson agreed. "That kid isn''t just mimicking you. He''s refining everything he takes. Every move you make, every play you run, he''s picking it apart and improving on it." Alec tilted his head slightly. "So what? He''s just a damn copy." Corson smirked. "Then tell me why you still haven''t stopped him." Alec''s smirk faltered. "That''s what I thought." Corson sat up straight, his expression turning serious. "And then, there''s Number 20." Mason scoffed. "Albarado.''" Julian''s eyes narrowed. "He''s a playmaker. A damn good one." Corson nodded. "Exactly. His passing is insane. He''s got vision better than half the guards I''ve seen at your level." Ethan Blake, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "So, what do we do?" Corson''s smirk returned. "We suffocate them." The air in the room shifted. Alec straightened up, interest flickering in his eyes. "Go on." Corson lifted his clipboard, flipping it around so everyone could see. The X''s and O''s were clear. A new strategy. Alec, Mason, Julian, Ethan, and Jaxon all leaned in. "FirstLucas Graves. The Copycat. We''re taking away his options." Corson tapped a spot on the board. "He thrives in space, so we don''t give him any. Make him play one-on-one. Cut off his passing lanes. Shadow him the entire game. He wants to copy us? Fine. But basketball isn''t just about skills. It''s about mental endurance." Julian smirked slightly. "So we let him think he has a chance, then break him." Corson nodded. "Exactly." Alec chuckled. "That sounds fun." Corson turned the clipboard again. "Now, Ethan Albarado. The Playmaker. He''s our real target." Mason frowned. "I thought Graves was more dangerous." Corson shook his head. "Wrong. Albarado is the reason they still have life in this game." The room fell silent. "You don''t kill the head of the snake, it keeps moving." Alec smirked. "So we cut off the head?" Corson grinned. "Exactly. Full-court press. Every time he touches the ball, you two" he pointed at Alec and Mason "trap him immediately." Mason nodded. "Make him feel the pressure." Julian cracked his neck. "Make him suffer." Corson chuckled. "I knew I liked you guys." Jaxon Wells finally spoke. "And me?" Corson turned to him. "You own the paint. No easy buckets. Every time they come inside, make them regret it." Jaxon smirked. "Got it." Corson slammed the clipboard down on the bench. "Second half, we shut them down. No mercy. No breathing room. No comeback." He leaned in, his voice dropping. "End this game." Alec''s smirk returned. Mason cracked his knuckles. Julian exhaled, ready. Ethan Blake rolled his shoulders. Jaxon grinned. They weren''t just going to win. They were going to crush Vorpal Basket. And when they walked back onto the court The second half of the game was going to be a nightmare for Lucas Graves and Ethan Albarado. ....... [Vorpal Basket Locker Room C Halftime] The air was thick with sweat and exhaustion. Ethan Albarado sat on the bench, towel draped around his neck, eyes flickering across the room. Evan Cooper, Ryan Taylor, Brandon Young, Lucas Graves... Coonie Smith. Other bench player His teammates. They weren''t celebrating. They weren''t hyped. Despite the small momentum shift in the second quarter, the scoreboard still told the truth. [Orlando Hoops C 59 Vorpal Basket C 43] They were still getting destroyed. Ethan sighed, running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. "What should I do...?" He knew what was coming. Alec Storm wasn''t the type to let up. Neither was their coach. Orlando Hoops wasn''t about to let them crawl back into this game. They were going to tighten their grip. Which meant Ethan needed a counter-strategy. Something. Anything. Before he could speak A loud, fake laugh filled the room. "Good work! Good work, Albarado! I knew you had it in you!" Coach Fred Mason. The lazy, corrupt, incompetent excuse of a head coach waddled toward Ethan, his bloated face twisted into a nervous grin. Ethan turned his head slightly, eyeing the man. "Tsk." Coach Mason gulped under Ethan''s stare, but quickly covered it up with another forced laugh. "Always keep the momentum, guys! Keep doing what you''re doing, and we''ll be fine! Ha-ha!" Silence. No one responded. Ethan let out a slow breath, keeping his expression neutral. "(He''s scared I''ll expose him.)" The missing team funds. The favoritism. The blatant neglect of actual strategy. Coach Mason wasn''t a coach. He was a fraud. And now? He was panicking because Ethan blackmail. Coonie Smith, sitting on the far end, crossed his arms and clicked his tongue. "(This pig.)" Evan Cooper rubbed his temples. "So... what''s the plan, Coach?" Coach Mason blinked. "Plan?" He laughed again, trying to keep up his fake confidence. "Justjust keep doing what you''re doing! You''re doing great!" Ethan exhaled sharply. "(This idiot.)" Ryan Taylor frowned. "That''s it? No adjustments?" Brandon Young wiped his face with his jersey, shaking his head. Lucas Graves, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke. His golden eyes locked onto Coach Mason. "Orlando''s going to press us hard in the second half." Mason blinked. "H-Huh?" Lucas continued, voice sharp. "They''re not gonna let us play comfortably anymore. They''re gonna trap Ethan the second he touches the ball. And they''re gonna isolate me so I can''t move freely." Coonie leaned forward. "And what about the paint? Jaxon Wells is already eating us alive." Brandon Young gritted his teeth. "He''s too strong. We need to double him." Evan nodded. "Yeah, we need a counter" "I SAID KEEP THE MOMENTUM!" Everyone froze. Coach Mason''s fake cheerfulness was gone. For a secondjust a secondhis real personality slipped out. His beady eyes sharpened, his chubby face twisted in frustration. "I''m the coach here! Not you!" Mason snapped, his voice sharp. "Just listen to me and keep playing the way you''re playing! Don''t overthink it!" Silence. Ethan''s fist clenched. "(This fatass didn''t care.)" He had no strategy. No adjustments. Nothing. He was just praying that Ethan and Lucas could somehow keep them in the game. "(Tsk. This is why we always lose.)" Ethan then thought, "(For now, I''ll let him do what he wants. We have momentum, and I still need more data on the other players. After all...)" .... [Start of the Third Quarter] The whistle blew. The game resumed. Evan Cooper dribbled up the court, sweat dripping from his forehead as he scanned the floor. His eyes flickered toward Ethan Albarado. Ethan nodded. "Let''s run it." Evan took a step forward, reading Orlando''s defense. Alec Storm was in front of him, eyes sharp. Julian Cross hovered near the wing, ready to pounce on any lazy pass. Mason Hayes was lurking, already anticipating the play. Everything looked normal. But somethingsomething felt off. Ethan''s sharp gaze flickered. His instincts screamed. Then he saw it The shift. Orlando''s defense subtly adjustedAlec took a half-step toward Ethan before Evan even passed. They knew. They knew the pass was coming. Ethan''s eyes widened. "No!" Evan had already thrown it. Alec Storm shot forward, his body moving before the ball even reached Ethan. A perfect read. Steal. Alec''s fingers wrapped around the ball, and in one smooth motion, he spun on his heel, turning defense into offense. Ethan cursed under his breath and immediately sprinted back. Alec smirked. "Too easy." He dribbled behind his backsmooth, effortless. Brandon Young stepped up, arms wide, trying to stop the fast break. Alec barely acknowledged him. A quick crossoverleft to right. Brandon lungedtoo late. Alec blew past him. "Shit!" Brandon cursed, his momentum taking him the wrong way. Alec drove inside but didn''t force a contested shot. He was calm. Calculated. A sharp flick of his wrist A clean pass. Right into Ethan Blake''s hands. Wide open. Coach Corson smirked from the sidelines. "(That''s it. Gain the momentum.)" Ethan Blake squared up, his form perfect. Lucas Graves and Evan Cooper tried to recover, but It was too late. Splash. A clean three-pointer. The net snapped. The crowd exploded. [Scoreboard Update:] Orlando Hoops C 62 Vorpal Basket C 43 Coach Corson nodded, satisfied. "(Now, they''ll feel it. The pressure. The weight. This is how we break them.)" Alec turned, jogging back on defense, his smirk growing. He pointed at Ethan Albarado, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You better wake up, Albarado. Or this game is gonna end real fast." Ethan clenched his fists. He wasn''t angry. He was pissed. Ethan Albarado exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he controlled his breathing. But anger wouldn''t help him now. He needed focus. His fingers tightened around the ball as he activated his skills. [Skill Activated: Playmaker''s Vision (Advanced)] Decision-making drastically enhanced.Passing accuracy and court awareness significantly improved.Teammates become more effective on offense. [Skill Activated: Magic Johnson Passing Vision (Intermediate Level)] Enhanced court mapping.Can anticipate defensive movements with greater accuracy.Increases effectiveness of deceptive passing. His blue eyes scanned the floor, everything slowing down in his mind. The movement of defenders. The shifts in positioning. The tiny gaps in coverage. He saw it all. "Let me hold the ball." Evan Cooper blinked at him but nodded. "Alright. Run it." Ryan Taylor stood outside the line, ball in hand, waiting for the inbound. With a quick pass, he tossed it toward Ethan. Ethan caught it cleanly, his grip firm, his dribble steady. As soon as the ball touched the floor Two defenders collapsed on him. Ethan Blake. Julian Cross. Two of Orlando''s best defensive players. Ethan clicked his tongue. "(Shit, they really boxing me out.)" Their positioning was perfect. One high, one low. Cutting off his driving lanes. Forcing him into a difficult position. Lucas Graves, standing near the wing, saw the pressure and immediately called out. "Pass to me, Ethan!!" Ethan snapped his gaze toward him. Lucas had spacebut Alec Storm was lurking in the middle, waiting. "(I see what you''re doing, Alec.)" Ethan moved his right hand, setting up the motion for the pass. Alec smirked. "(This is mine.)" The moment Ethan flicked his wrist Alec lunged. He saw the ball moving toward Lucas and immediately extended his arm, ready to intercept. But then The ball changed direction. Alec''s eyes widened in shock. "What?!" The ball didn''t reach Lucas. It curveda diagonal pass, cutting between defenders. Alec turned his head in disbelief, tracking the ball''s movement. "(How did)" His eyes locked onto Ryan Taylor, who caught the pass cleanly inside the paint. Ryan wasted no time One step. Two steps. Layup. Bucket. The whistle blew. And-One. The crowd gasped, murmurs spreading through the gym. Even Coach Corson, arms crossed, narrowed his eyes. "(That pass...)" His fingers tapped against his elbow as he studied Ethan Albarado. "(That was no ordinary pass... It''s just like the legendary pass of Larkson...)" The Diagonal Pass. [A deceptive pass that looked like it was meant for one playeronly to curve toward another at the last second.] It was an elite-level pass. A pass only the best playmakers could pull off. Coach Corson''s jaw tightened. "(A bench... managed to pull that off?)" Alec, still standing in the middle of the court, exhaled sharply. His expression was unreadable. He looked at Ethan. Ethan just smirked. "Heh." Alec''s lips curled slightly, amusement flashing in his eyes. "(Hoh...)" This just got interesting. To be continue Chapter 22 - 14: The Storm Strikes Back Chapter 22 - 14: The Storm Strikes Back [3rd Quarter C 8:00 Minutes Remaining] .. [Orlando Hoops C 62 Vorpal Basket C 45] .. The whistle blew. The third quarter had begun. Ethan Albarado wiped the sweat from his brow as he stepped back on defense. He glanced at Lucas Graves beside him. Lucas, normally brimming with energy, had a more serious expression now. They both knew it. This wasn''t going to be easy. Orlando Hoops was about to crank up the pressure. And they wouldn''t stop until Vorpal Basket was buried. Alec Storm dribbled the ball up the court, his expression unreadable. But his eyes? They were sharp. Focused. ... [Score Update:] [Orlando Hoops C 64 Vorpal Basket C 45] .. [Vorpal Basket''s Possession] Evan Cooper dribbled up the court, scanning for an opening. Ethan Albarado moved into position, hands ready. Evan faked rightthen passed left. The ball never arrived. Steal. Julian Cross had read the play perfectly, intercepting it mid-air. Julian bolted down the court, his speed undeniable. Lucas sprinted after him But Julian was already at the rim. One step. Two steps. Dunk. BOOM. The rim shook violently, and the crowd erupted. The Orlando bench jumped to their feet, clapping and cheering. Coach Corson didn''t even react. Because this was expected. [Score Update:] [Orlando Hoops C 66 Vorpal Basket C 45] The air in the gym was suffocating. The cheers of the Orlando fans echoed through the court, drowning out any momentum Vorpal Basket had left. "(Damn it...)" Ethan Albarado clenched his fists as he jogged back on offense. This wasn''t just skill. This was dominance. Orlando Hoops wasn''t just playing hardthey were destroying them. Every passing lane was sealed. Every driving gap was closed. Their defense was like a moving wallpressing in, suffocating, overwhelming. Ethan turned to Lucas, eyes scanning his teammate. Lucas''s breaths were heavy, his muscles tensed. He was trying. Really trying. But Orlando was just too fast. Too in sync. "(We''re drowning.)" No more waiting. No more hesitation. Ethan pounded the ball against the hardwood. "ISO! ISO!" His voice cut through the noise, sharp and clear. Evan Cooper immediately nodded, signaling to Ryan Taylor and Brandon Young to clear out. The court shifted. It was now a one-on-one. Ethan Albarado vs. Alec Storm. Alec''s eyes gleamed with amusement as he crouched into a defensive stance. "Oh? You want this?" Ethan''s smirk was slight. "You talk too much." Thenhe moved. A quick jab step. Alec''s feet adjusted, his body staying balanced. Ethan faked left Alec stayed locked in. ThenSNAP! A lightning-fast ghost pass. The ball barely touched Ethan''s fingers before it vanished between Alec''s legs, rolling smoothly into Brandon Young''s hands in the paint. Alec''s eyes widened. "(Shitwhere did?)" Brandon caught it cleanly, his massive frame already rising into the air for a slam. He roared as he stretched his arms toward the rim But then SMACK! Blocked. A thunderous rejection sent the ball flying back into the air. Ethan''s stomach dropped. "(No way)" The one who blocked it? Jaxon Wells. Orlando''s center. His palm still hung in the air, his expression unbothered. Brandon stumbled back, eyes wide in disbelief. Jaxon landed smoothly, grabbing the ball and immediately kicking it out to Alec Storm. Fast break. Alec dashed down the court, already pushing full speed. Ethan turned, sprinting after him, his blood boiling. But deep down He knew. They were still a step behind. [3rd Quarter C 7:00 Minutes Remaining] Orlando Hoops C 66 Vorpal Basket C 45 Brandon Young knelt on the hardwood, his hands pressing against the cold floor as he stared upward. Jaxon Wells loomed over him. The gym lights cast a faint glow around the Orlando center, his muscular frame blocking out everything else. His serious, unwavering gaze burned into Brandon, filled with silent intensity. Brandon''s fingers curled into tight fists. "(He''s... too big.)" He had gone up with everything he had All his power. All his strength. And yet, Jaxon had swatted it away like nothing. Brandon gritted his teeth. His heart pounded in frustration. Jaxon''s expression didn''t change. He wasn''t taunting him. He wasn''t smirking like Alec or Mason. He was just... looking. That made it worse. Brandon felt like a child being stared down by a giant. "(Am I... really this weak?)" But before the doubt could fully settle A sharp, familiar voice cut through the court. "Yosh!!!" Everyone turned toward the sound. Lucas Graves. His legs were trembling. His arms felt like lead. His body was drenched in sweat. But he was smiling. Lucas slapped his knees and grinned, sucking in deep breaths before forcing himself to stand upright. Ethan Albarado''s eyes flicked toward him. "(As expected... Absolute Mimicry is taking a toll on him.)" Lucas had been using his power the entire game, copying elite-level techniques over and over. His body wasn''t built to handle that kind of strain for long. At this rate "(He''s going to collapse before the 4th quarter.)" Ethan clenched his jaw. He needed to find a way to lessen Lucas''s burden. But before he could say anything Lucas clapped his hands together, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Come on!! We''re not done yet!" His voice rang through the gym. His teammates, exhausted and panting, froze. Ryan Taylor wiped the sweat from his forehead and exhaled sharply. Brandon, still on his knees, slowly looked up. Evan Cooper, catching his breath near the free-throw line, let out a small chuckle. Even Coonie Smithwho had been sitting on the bench, arms crossed in frustrationgrinned. Lucas wasn''t giving up. Even after all the hits. Even after all the blocks. Even after getting suffocated by Orlando''s defense. He was still standing. Ethan exhaled, shaking his head. "(He really is the protagonist... changing the game.)" Then, his eyes flickered toward the scoreboard. 7 minutes left in the 3rd quarter. They still had time. Lucas still had fight left in him. And Ethan? He was going to make sure that fight wouldn''t go to waste. ... The Orlando Hoops players stood on the court, watching. Their opponentsthe so-called weak teamwere still fighting. Lucas Graves, the benchwarmer turned playmaker, stood at the center of it all, grinning through exhaustion. His teammates, battered and struggling, refused to back down. For a brief momentjust a secondCoach Guy Corson felt something. A flicker of something buried deep inside him. A memory. Years ago, when he was just a teenager, playing ball in an old gym with scuffed wooden floors, broken rims, and no air-conditioning. Back then, basketball was different. It wasn''t about scholarships. It wasn''t about sponsorships. It wasn''t about crushing weak teams just to look good. It was just about playing. Just you, the ball, and the game. The sound of sneakers squeaking. The ball bouncing against the floor. The laughter. The trash talk. Back then, winning wasn''t everything. It was about the love of the sport. Coach Corson closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. That world didn''t exist anymore. The old era was dead. Now? Basketball was survival. No one played just for fun anymore. If you weren''t good enough If you weren''t strong enough If you weren''t born with talent You got left behind. That was the reality now. Corson opened his eyes, shaking off the nostalgia. Those kids on Vorpal Basket? They were too soft. Lucas Graves could smile all he wanted. Ethan Albarado could pass all he wanted. But effort alone wasn''t enough. Because at the end of the day, talent crushed hard work. Every. Single. Time. He exhaled sharply, then turned toward his team. Alec Storm. Mason Hayes. Julian Cross. Ethan Blake. Jaxon Wells. His five elites. The players handpicked to dominate. They weren''t playing to "have fun." They were playing to win. Coach Corson''s voice was calm, but firm. "Stick to the plan." No hesitation. No questioning. Just obedience. "YES, COACH!!" The gym shook with their unified response. Alec Storm cracked his knuckles, his usual smirk returning. Mason Hayes rolled his shoulders, eyes gleaming with intensity. Julian Cross clenched his fists, already anticipating his next steal. Ethan Blake''s lips curled into a smirk, glancing toward the exhausted Ethan Albarado. Jaxon Wells simply nodded. Their movements were sharp. Precise. A well-oiled machine. Lucas Graves and Ethan Albarado may have ignited a fire in Vorpal Basket But Orlando Hoops? They were a storm. And the storm was about to wipe them out ... Evan Cooper dribbled up the court, sweat dripping from his chin. He could feel Alec''s presence in front of himwatching, waiting. Waiting for a mistake. Alec Storm wasn''t just fast. He wasn''t just skilled. He was merciless. And the moment Evan hesitatedjust for a second SWIPE! Alec lunged forward, hand slicing through the air, stealing the ball in a single, perfect motion. He smirked, gripping the ball as he sprinted toward the basket. "Too much distraction." he muttered under his breath. But before he could push forward Tap. The ball shifted. Just a slight movement. Not a full steal. But enough to change everything. Alec''s smirk vanished. "Shittip ball!!" Ethan Albarado had read him. Anticipated the steal. Alec had the ball, but it wasn''t fully in his control anymore. And now It was loose. The game exploded into chaos. Bodies dived. Shoes screeched across the polished floor. Alec lunged for it. Ethan Albarado lunged for it. Julian Cross rushed in. Ryan Taylor pushed forward. The ball bounced wildly across the court. For a split second, it was anyone''s game. Then A flash of gold. Lucas Graves. With insane reflexes, he snatched the ball mid-air, securing possession. His fingers tightened around the leather as he landed, sneakers barely making a sound. But he wasn''t stopping. He was already moving. Dribbling. Charging. Straight down the court. Alec turnedhis mind racing. "(He''s fast!)" Lucas wasn''t just running. He was flowing. Smooth. Balanced. His footworkAlec recognized it immediately. (Wait) And then It hit him. Lucas wasn''t just running. He was mimicking. The tension in the gym was palpable. The crowd''s cheers blurred into a dull roar as Lucas Graves sprinted down the court, the basketball firmly in his grasp. Alec Storm chased after him, his legs moving on instinct, but his mindhis mind was racing. (This bastard... he can still mimic my moves? I thought he was tired!) Lucas wasn''t just running. He was copying Alec''s exact movements. The way Alec dribbled. The way he shifted his weight. The way he moved his body It was identical. Alec gritted his teeth, his frustration bubbling to the surface. Alec''s fingers twitched. "Fuck it." He surged forward, determined to shut this down. ..... [Lucas POV] My breath was coming in short gasps. (Tsk... this is hard... my stamina...!) Every muscle in my body was burning. I knew this would happen. Mimicking someone''s skill was one thing. But maintaining it? Executing it at full speed? That was another story. I felt my legs getting heavier. My body slowing down. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself forward. I had no choice. I had to keep going. Alec was right behind me. (Just a little more... just a little longer... I have to...! ) I clenched the ball tighter, my vision tunneling toward the basket ahead. This wasn''t about skill anymore. This was about who would break first. As Lucas Graves pushed forward, his breath ragged, his vision tunneling on the defense ahead. Then "HERE!!" A sharp voice cut through the chaos. Lucas''s golden eyes flickered to the side. Ethan Albarado. Hand raised. Ready. Lucas didn''t hesitate. A quick flick of the wrista bullet pass. The ball sliced through the air. Ethan caught it mid-stride, barely breaking momentum. (Perfect.) He surged forward, his dribble sharp, controlled. But A looming shadow. Jaxon Wells. The Orlando center, built like a wall, stepped up to meet him. "NOT ON MY WATCH!" Jaxon bellowed, his arms outstretched, ready to smother Ethan''s drive. Ethan''s grip on the ball tightened. He had expected this. (I need to shift his focusnow.) At the very last second A quick side step. Jaxon reacted instantly, shifting with him. Exactly as planned. (Gotcha.) As Jaxon committed to the block, Ethan''s eyes flicked to the side. Therewide open. Brandon Young. Jaxon had completely forgotten about him. Ethan smirked. A pinpoint bounce passstraight to Brandon. Brandon''s hands gripped the ball tight, his eyes locked on the rim. Ethan''s voice boomed across the court. "SLAM IT!!" Brandon took a deep breaththen rose. Higher. Higher. ABOVE JAXON. And then BOOM!!! A monstrous dunk. The rim shook violently. The crowd erupted. The Vorpal bench jumped to their feet. Even Lucas, still catching his breath, let out a sharp grin. (Hell yeah, Brandon!) Jaxon landed, his face twisting in frustration. Alec Storm, watching from the three-point line, clicked his tongue. (Damn it... that was clean.) Even Coach Corson''s brows furrowed slightly. That pass. That movement. That setup. Ethan Albarado wasn''t just playing. He was playing the game like a chess. To be continue Chapter 23: Who is Stronger: Ethan or Lucas? Chapter 23 - Who is Stronger: Ethan or Lucas? Right now, Lucas Graves has the stronger raw skills due to his Absolute Mimicry, allowing him to copy and refine the techniques of elite players instantly. However, Ethan Albarado has a higher basketball IQ, better playmaking, and long-term potential due to his system and past-life experience. Breakdown of Their Strengths & Weaknesses ???? Lucas Graves C The Protagonist of "Turning Point" (Explosive, Adaptive, but Short-Term) ? Strengths: Absolute Mimicry allows him to copy and enhance any move he sees. Quick adaptability C He improves faster than anyone else. Athletic & aggressive playstyle C Takes risks and goes all out. Fearless C Always pushes forward, no matter how strong the opponent. ? Weaknesses: Stamina drain C Absolute Mimicry exhausts him quickly and causes side effects. Lacks game control C Great at making plays, but not a natural strategist. Too reckless C Sometimes overuses Mimicry without considering the bigger picture. ???? Lucas is like a young Kobe Bryantexplosive, fearless, and learns fast. ???? Ethan Albarado C Protagonist of Extra basket (Strategic, Playmaker, but Unproven Physically) ? Strengths: Basketball System gives him access to high-level skills like Playmaker''s Vision and Magic Johnson Passing Vision. Veteran-like experience C He has 14 years of basketball knowledge from his past life. Master strategist C Can read the game, control tempo, and make teammates better. Long-term growth C While Lucas burns out fast, Ethan''s system allows steady improvement. ? Weaknesses: Unproven athleticism C His body is still adapting to his skills. Not yet a scorer C Right now, he relies on playmaking more than scoring. Lack of game experience C Even though he has knowledge, he hasn''t played real games until now. ???? Ethan is like a mix of Magic Johnson & Chris Paulsmart, controlled, and a team-first leader. Who is Stronger Right Now? Short-Term: Lucas is stronger because of his insane Mimicry abilities and natural athleticism. Long-Term: Ethan has higher potential because of his system, strategic mind, and ability to improve consistently. Who Would Win in a 1v1? If it''s a quick 1v1: Lucas winshe can copy Ethan''s moves and overpower him. If it''s a full game: Ethan winshe would outthink Lucas, control the pace, and exploit Lucas''s stamina weakness. Final Verdict: Lucas is the "now," but Ethan is the "future." ???????? Right now, Lucas is stronger physically, but Ethan is the one who will eventually surpass him. Chapter 24: Does Lucas can Copy Ethan? Chapter 24 - Does Lucas can Copy Ethan? What Lucas Can Copy from Ethan: ? Ethan''s Dribbling, Passing, Shooting, and Defensive Moves C If Lucas sees Ethan execute a skill, he can copy it and even refine it.? Ethan''s Footwork, Timing, and Playstyle C Lucas''s Absolute Mimicry allows him to analyze Ethan''s court vision, movement, and decisions, then apply them in real-time. What Lucas CANNOT Copy from Ethan: ? Basketball System Skills C Lucas cannot buy skills or upgrades like Ethan can. If Ethan unlocks "Magic Johnson Passing Vision" or "Jordan Fadeaway," Lucas can only copy the motion, not the system''s stat boost. ? System-Enhanced Abilities C If Ethan''s Playmaker''s Vision (Advanced) gives him enhanced passing accuracy and decision-making, Lucas can copy the motion of the pass but not the extra effect given by the system. ? Stat Boosts from the System C Lucas''s physical attributes remain the same, while Ethan can upgrade speed, stamina, strength, and IQ. Example: Can Lucas Copy Ethan''s Passing? ???? If Ethan uses "Magic Johnson Passing Vision (Intermediate)" and makes a flashy assist:? Lucas can copy the motion, but he won''t get the same vision boost or passing accuracy Ethan has from the system. ???? If Ethan buys a new legendary shooting form, Lucas can mimic the shot, but Ethan will always have a more consistent advantage because of system upgrades. Can Lucas Completely Counter Ethan? No. Lucas can copy Ethan''s moves, but Ethan can always adapt and improve through his system. If Lucas copies Ethan''s handles, Ethan can buy even better handles. If Lucas copies Ethan''s shooting, Ethan can purchase and refine a new legendary shot. If Lucas steals one skill, Ethan can level up ten more. Lucas excels in short-term battles, but Ethan grows infinitely stronger over time. ???? Final Answer: Can Lucas Copy Ethan? ? Yes, but only his in-game moves.? No, he cannot copy Ethan''s Basketball System, stat boosts, or skill upgrades.???? Ethan has the long-term advantage because his system lets him continuously evolve. Chapter 25 - 15: THE F*CK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? Chapter 25 - 15: THE F*CK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 71 Vorpal Basket C 54 3rd Quarter C 3 Minutes Left The gym was filled with the deafening sound of sneakers screeching, the rhythmic pounding of the ball, and the roaring cheers from the Orlando crowd. The energy of the game had shifted, but Vorpal Basket was still gasping for air. Ethan Albarado hunched over, his hands gripping his knees as sweat dripped from his chin. His chest heaved, lungs burning as he lifted his gaze toward the scoreboard. Seventeen points. They were still down by seventeen. "F*CK." His breath came out shaky as he turned his head, scanning his teammates. Lucas Graves was bent over, panting hard, his golden eyes flickering with exhaustion. Evan Cooper had his hands on his hips, beads of sweat rolling down his face. Brandon Young leaned against the post, shaking out his arms. Ryan Taylor slumped against the bench, barely keeping himself upright. "(WE''RE RUNNING ON FUMES... WE CAN''T KEEP THIS UP.)" Ethan wiped the sweat off his forehead, his mind racing. He needed a plan. Something. Anything. Before he could act, a soft chime rang in his head. DING! A translucent screen flashed in his vision. [Quest Completed:] Stay in the 3rd Quarter for 5 Minutes] Reward: 200 Shop Points | 100 Upgrade Points Ethan''s heart pounded. "(SYSTEM! OPEN UP!)" A glowing screen expanded before himits information streaming directly into his mind. [Basketball Power System] Name: Ethan Albarado Level: Rookie Upgrade Points (UP): 100 Shop Points (SP): 300 [Core Attributes] [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 11Layup Skill: 4Dunk Skill: 3Dribbling Skill: 14Passing Skill: 5 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 3Blocking Ability: 3Steal Skill: 4 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 4Endurance: 4Speed: 9 (Base: 4 | +5 Upgraded) [Skills] Basic Power Shot C Standard shooting with average accuracy.Basic Precision Pass C Enhances accuracy in simple passes.Basic Dribble C Fundamental ball-handling skills.Magic Johnson Passing Vision (Intermediate Level) C Significantly improves court vision and playmaking.Playmaker''s Vision (Advanced) C Upgrades passing accuracy, decision-making, and assists, making teammates more effective. Ethan exhaled sharply. "(I HAVE 100 UPGRADE POINTS AND 300 SHOP POINTS NOW...)" He quickly navigated to the Shop Skills tab, scrolling down. [Shop Skills Available] Jordan Shooting Form C 1000 SPEffect: Significantly increases shooting accuracy.Kobe Shooting Form C 1000 SPEffect: Enhances mid-range and long-range shooting. More... "(SH*T, TOO EXPENSIVE. I CAN''T AFFORD THOSE YET.)" His fingers twitched as he switched to the Shop Cards section. [Shop Cards] Boost Cards C Temporary enhancements for attributes or skills. Speed Boost Card (+2 Speed for 5 minutes) C 200 SPShooting Accuracy Card (+3 Shooting Accuracy for 5 minutes) C 200 SP Team Cards C Cards that provide boosts when used with teammates. Team Synergy Card (Boosts all teammates'' attributes by +1 for 10 minutes) C 300 SPDefense Coordinator Card (Improves team defense for 10 minutes) C 300 SP Ethan''s fingers hovered over the selections. "(THIS IS IT. THIS IS HOW WE FLIP THIS GAME.)" His mind worked at lightning speed. He needed speed to break free of Orlando''s suffocating defense. He needed accuracy to ensure every shot counted. And most importantlyhe needed his team to stay in the fight. His thumb moved Just as the referee''s whistle shrieked through the gym. BZZZZZT! Timeout C Vorpal Basket. Ethan''s head snapped up. The noise of the gym faded as his eyes locked onto the bench. Coach Fred Mason, drenched in sweatnot from playing, but from stressstood there, waving his hand. His face was twisted in a pathetic attempt to look in control. The murmurs in the crowd filled the gym as the players dragged themselves toward the huddle. Ethan took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. "(I KNOW WHAT TO DO.)" This game wasn''t over. Not yet. ..... The locker room was filled with heavy, ragged breathing, the scent of sweat thick in the air. The players of Vorpal Basket sat slumped against benches, their jerseys clinging to their skin, their bodies aching from the relentless pace of the game. Despite the exhaustion, despite the overwhelming score gapthere was still a flicker of hope in their eyes. ThenCoach Fred Mason opened his mouth. "Alright, boys!" he bellowed, wiping the sweat off his greasy forehead. His voice carried a forced confidence, the kind that made Ethan''s stomach churn. "We''re almost there! We can catch up to them if we keep this momentum!" The locker room fell silent. Ethan Albarado, still gripping a towel around his neck, slowly lifted his head. "Almost there?" His voice wasn''t loud, but it was sharp enough to cut through the room. Coach Fred blinked, his smug smile twitching slightly. "What was that, Albarado?" Ethan stood up, his piercing blue eyes locking onto the coach''s. The room grew colder. "THE F*CK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" The entire team tensed. Coach Fred''s smile vanished. "E-Excuse me?" Ethan took a step forward. "I SAIDTHE F*CK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" His voice boomed in the small room, making some of the players flinch. Fred Mason''s eyes darted around, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "H-How dare you talk to me like that! I''m the coach" Ethan didn''t let him finish. In an instant, his hand shot out, gripping the front of Mason''s shirt. The air in the locker room froze. Every player''s breath hitched as Ethan yanked the coach forward, their faces only inches apart. Fred Mason''s body went rigid. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he stared into Ethan''s blazing blue eyes. "Listen to me, you pig" Ethan''s voice was low, seething, dripping with venom. "DON''T FCKING YAP ABOUT YOUR COACH BADGE LIKE IT MEANS SHT. OR ELSE" Fred Mason gulped. His round face paled. His hands trembled. Because he knew. Ethan had the evidence. The missing team funds. The stolen sponsorship money. If that information got outhis career was over. Silence suffocated the room. No one dared to move. Lucas Graves, who had been watching from his seat, clenched his fists. His golden eyes darted between Ethan and Mason. He could feel the tension crackling in the air, thick and suffocating. This isn''t good. Evan Cooper, the team captain, finally took a step forward. He gently grabbed Ethan''s wristthe one still gripping Mason''s shirt. "Ethan..." His voice was calm, yet firm. Ethan''s grip tightened for just a second. His jaw clenched. Thenhe exhaled sharply. Slowly, he let go, shoving Coach Fred backward. Mason stumbled, gasping slightly, his hands clutching his chest. The entire team watched in stunned silence. Ethan rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. Thenhe smirked. "I HAVE A PLAN." The locker room stilled. Lucas blinked, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Coonie Smith, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. Ryan Taylor straightened up. Evan let out a breath and nodded. For the first time since the game startedthere was hope. Ethan clenched his fists. "(THIS IS IT. THIS IS HOW WE TURN THIS GAME AROUND.)" ... The locker room was still tense, the weight of Ethan''s confrontation with Coach Mason lingering in the air. But the moment Ethan uttered those words"I HAVE A PLAN."something changed. Everyone in the room felt it. The shift. The possibility. The hope. Evan Cooper was the first to break the silence. "So what''s the plan?" he asked, his voice steady but eager. Lucas Graves, sitting on the bench, wiped the sweat from his forehead. He nodded, golden eyes now locked onto Ethan. Ethan didn''t respond immediately. Insteadhe turned his gaze towards the starting lineup. Evan Cooper. Ryan Taylor. Brandon Young. Lucas Graves. Thenhe turned to the bench. Coonie Smith. The other bench players. The guys who barely got any playing time. The guys who were treated as afterthoughts. The underestimated. ThenEthan''s piercing blue eyes flicked toward Coach Fred Mason. The so-called coach who had done nothing but hold them back. Ethan''s jaw tightened. Thenhe closed his eyes. "(SYSTEM, SCAN ALL BENCH PLAYERS. SHOW ME THEIR STATS.)" A soft ding echoed in his mind. Then [SCANNING...] A translucent blue window flickered before his eyes. Only he could see it. Thenthe results appeared. [BENCH PLAYER STATUS SCAN] Coonie Smith C Point Guard / Shooting Guard Offensive Attributes: Shooting Accuracy: 5 (Inconsistent shooter, can make open shots but struggles under pressure.) Layup Skill: 3 (Limited finishing ability, often gets blocked or misses tough shots.) Dunk Skill: 1 (Not a dunker, barely gets off the ground.) Dribbling Skill: 5 (Decent ball control but struggles against aggressive defenders.) Passing Skill: 4 (Can make basic passes but lacks vision for advanced playmaking.) Defensive Attributes: Defense: 4 (Effort is there, but struggles against faster or stronger guards.) Blocking Ability: 2 (Rarely blocks shots due to lack of size and vertical leap.) Steal Skill: 5 (Decent at poking the ball loose but gambles too much.) Physical Attributes: Stamina: 4 (Can play for short bursts but tires quickly.) Endurance: 4 (Struggles to maintain energy in fast-paced games.) Speed: 5 (Has average quickness, but not fast enough to blow by defenders.) Skills: Basic Three-Point Shooting C Can hit shots when open, but consistency is an issue. Defensive Hustle C Tries to stay active on defense but lacks strength to guard top players. Jeremy Park C Power Forward Offensive Attributes: Shooting Accuracy: 4 Layup Skill: 4 Dunk Skill: 3 Dribbling Skill: 2 Passing Skill: 2 Defensive Attributes: Defense: 4 Blocking Ability: 5 Steal Skill: 3 Physical Attributes: Stamina: 5 Endurance: 5 Speed: 4 Skills: Basic Post Defense C Decent at contesting shots but gets bullied by stronger opponents. Box-Out Specialist C Can secure rebounds but struggles against taller or more aggressive players. Second-Chance Finisher C Finishes putbacks but lacks finesse. Kai Mendoza C Small Forward Offensive Attributes: Shooting Accuracy: 4 Layup Skill: 3 Dunk Skill: 2 Dribbling Skill: 4 Passing Skill: 3 Defensive Attributes: Defense: 4 Blocking Ability: 2 Steal Skill: 4 Physical Attributes: Stamina: 4 Endurance: 4 Speed: 5 Skills: Basic Mid-Range Shot C Can hit mid-range shots but struggles under pressure. Fast Break Runner C Decent in transition but lacks finishing ability. Coonie Smith. Jeremy Park. Kai Mendoza. Their stats? Mediocre. Weak shooting. Limited finishing. No elite defense. They weren''t built to compete against monsters like Alec Storm or Jaxon Wells. Ethan''s jaw tightened. "(THEY WERE WEAK. I CAN TELL.)" His blue eyes burned with focus as he stared at the names before him. They weren''t flashy. They weren''t stars. But "(I CAN MAKE THEM GOOD.)" His gaze shifted. In the corner of the screen The Shop. Ethan clicked on it mentally. A new window opened. ... [SHOP CARDS] Boost Cards: Temporary enhancements for attributes or skills. Speed Boost Card (+2 Speed for 5 minutes) C 50 SPShooting Accuracy Card (+3 Shooting Accuracy for 5 minutes) C 50 SP Defense Boost Card (+2 Defense for 5 minutes) C 50 SP Team Cards: Cards that provide boosts when used with teammates. Team Synergy Card (Boosts all teammates'' attributes by +1 for 10 minutes) C 200 SPDefense Coordinator Card (Improves team defense for 10 minutes) C 200 SP ..... Ethan''s fingers tightened into a fist. He had 300 SP. Enough to buy one big upgrade or several smaller boosts. He could use it on himself. Make his own stats better. Or He could do something else. His eyes shifted toward the bench. Coonie was rubbing his wrists, rolling his shoulders. Jeremy was stretching, cracking his neck. Kai was bouncing slightly on his toes, trying to stay warm. They weren''t expecting to play. They weren''t expecting to be needed. "(I NEED TO MAKE OUR STARTERS REST FOR NOW... SO THAT THEY CAN PLAY IN THE FOURTH QUARTER, PRESERVING THEIR ENERGY.)" Ethan inhaled deeply. Thenhe made his decision. His fingers moved in his mind, selecting the cards. Purchase: Team Synergy Card C 200 SP. Purchase: Defense Boost Card C 50 SP. Purchase: Shooting Accuracy Card C 50 SP. [CONFIRMED.] DING. A new notification appeared. [TEAM SYNERGY CARD ACTIVATED.] [ALL BENCH PLAYERS'' ATTRIBUTES +1 FOR 10 MINUTES.] [DEFENSE BOOST CARD ACTIVATED.] [COONIE, JEREMY, AND KAI +2 DEFENSE FOR 5 MINUTES.] [SHOOTING ACCURACY CARD ACTIVATED.] [COONIE SMITH +3 SHOOTING ACCURACY FOR 5 MINUTES.] Ethan''s lips curled into a smirk. The bench players'' stats weren''t special. But now? They were good enough. He closed the system window. Thenhe spoke. "COACH." Coach Fred Mason flinched, looking at Ethan with clear fear. The entire team turned toward him. Lucas, Evan, Brandon, Ryaneveryone was watching. Ethan exhaled. Then, his next words shook the entire locker room. "SUB OUT THE STARTERS." Silence. Dead silence. Then "WHAT!?" Evan''s head snapped toward him. Lucas blinked in shock. Even Coonie, who had been drinking water, nearly choked. Ryan narrowed his eyes. "You want us to sit?" Ethan nodded. "For now." Coach Mason blinked in confusion. "What kind of bullshit are you saying, Albarado? You want to sub in the benchwarmers!?" Coonie scowled. "Hey, watch your mouth, fatass." Ethan didn''t even look at Mason. Instead, he turned toward Evan. "Trust me. We need you guys fresh for the fourth quarter." Evan hesitated. Lucas scratch his head, said confused. "You think the bench can hold up against Orlando?" Ethan smirked. "They won''t just hold up. They''ll buy us time." Coonie''s eyes lit up. Jeremy cracked his knuckles. "Tch. About time." Kai grinned. "Let''s see what we can do." Coach Mason, still looking unsure, gulped. He knew he couldn''t argue with Ethan. Not when Ethan still had leverage over him. Finallyhe let out a sigh. "Fine. Smith, Mendoza, Park. You''re in." The bench was stepping onto the court. And the game was about to change. To be continue Chapter 26 - 16: Coonie’s Ability? Chapter 26 - 16: Coonies Ability? [3rd Quarter C 3 Minutes Remaining] [Orlando Hoops C 71 Vorpal Basket C 54] The crowd buzzed with confusion. People whispered, murmuring among themselves as they saw Evan Cooper and Lucas Graves walking toward the bench. Instead, three bench players stepped onto the court. Coonie Smith. Jeremy Park. Kai Mendoza. But Brandon Young, the team''s center, stayed in. They didn''t have another true center on the bench. If Brandon sat, the paint would be completely unguarded. Then Orlando Hoops'' starters blinked, their expressions shifting from focused to surprised. Alec Storm scoffed. "What the hell? They''re giving up?" Mason Hayes smirked. "That''s what it looks like." Julian Cross chuckled, shaking his head. "Pathetic." Even Coach Guy Corson, who had been fully locked in, narrowed his eyes. "(They''re subbing out their starters? What is this...?)" He studied the three new players on the court. They didn''t look special. No insane physique. No intimidating presence. Just benchwarmers. He exhaled sharply. "Tch. Stick to the plan." "YES, COACH!" Orlando Hoops shouted in unison. They weren''t about to let up. Not now. Not ever. ... [Vorpal Basket''s Side] Ethan Albarado stood in the middle of his new lineup, rolling his shoulders as he turned to them. Coonie Smith cracked his knuckles. Jeremy Park adjusted his headband. Kai Mendoza bounced on his feet, shaking off the nerves. Brandon Young clenched his fists, already preparing himself for a battle in the paint. Ethan''s blue eyes sharpened. "LISTEN UP." Coonie, Jeremy, and Kai immediately snapped to attention. Brandon, still sweating from the previous plays, nodded slightly. Ethan''s voice was low. Firm. Unshakable. "This is not about scoring." Coonie blinked. "What?" Ethan''s gaze hardened. "We''re not here to win this quarter. We''re here to buy time." Kai nodded slowly. "You mean... to keep the game within reach?" Ethan smirked. "EXACTLY." His eyes flickered toward the Orlando Hoops players, who were already waiting for the inbound. "All we need to do is slow them down." Jeremy frowned. "We''re not strong enough." Ethan''s smirk widened. "That''s why I boosted you." Coonie''s eyes widened. "Huh?" Ethan mentally activated his system screen. A soft ding echoed in his head. ..... [ACTIVE BOOSTS] TEAM SYNERGY (+1 TO ALL ATTRIBUTES FOR 10 MINUTES)DEFENSE BOOST (+2 TO DEFENSE FOR 5 MINUTES C COONIE, JEREMY, KAI, BRANDON)SHOOTING ACCURACY BOOST (+3 TO SHOOTING FOR 5 MINUTES C COONIE) ..... Ethan grinned. "You guys are better than you think." Coonie''s fists clenched. Jeremy''s breathing steadied. Kai smirked. Brandon, still standing near the free-throw line, cracked his knuckles. "ALRIGHT, THEN. LET''S MAKE SOME NOISE." ..... [3rd Quarter C 2:58 Remaining] The whistle blew. Orlando Hoops had possession. Alec Storm dribbled up the court, his usual cocky smirk still present. Thenhe saw Coonie Smith. Standing in front of him. Not Evan Cooper. Not Lucas Graves. Coonie. Alec let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You''re guardiang me?" Coonie swallowed hard. His stance was low, his arms wide, buthis feet felt heavy. His breathing? Already uneven. He wasn''t used to guarding someone like Alec. Alec wasn''t just fast. He was elite. And Coonie? He was a benchwarmer. Still, he refused to back down. Alec snorted. "Alright then. Let''s see how long you last." Thenhe attacked. A sharp crossover. A hard drive. Coonie tried to react, shifting his weight But Alec was too fast. His feet dragged behind half a second too slow. Alec surged forward, already getting past him Jeremy Park rotated in, stepping into the lane. Alec clicked his tongue. "(TWO ON ME?)" Jeremy''s defense wasn''t perfect. His reaction was a little late. His footwork was a little sloppy. But it was just enough to slow Alec down. Just enough to make him rethink his move. Alec looked up. Mason Hayeswide open. He passed Kai Mendoza jumped the passing lane. Alec''s eyes widened. STEAL. "FAST BREAK!" Ethan yelled. Kai took off. Buthis dribble was shaky. The ball nearly bounced too high on his second step. He barely held on. His body felt slow. Orlando''s defense caught up immediately. They were closing in. "KAI, PASS!" Kai panicked. His eyes flicked to Ethan. His heart pounded. His handsmoved instinctively. He flicked the ball toward Ethan without hesitation. A simple pass. Not perfect. Not fast. But just enough to reach. Kai''s breath came out ragged. "(Did I almost screw that up?)" His hands were shaking. His movements felt off. He wasn''t playing like a star. He was playing like what he was. A bench player. Across the court, Coonie''s knees felt weak. His arms burned from just one defensive possession. He had barely been able to keep up. He wasn''t stopping Alec. He was just slowing him down. Just delaying the inevitable. Coonie gritted his teeth. "(DAMN IT... They''re just too good...)" But then He saw Ethan''s smirk. That damn smirk. Like he had planned this. Like he knew this would happen. Coonie clicked his tongue. "(TCH... I GET IT NOW.)" Ethan didn''t put them in to dominate. He didn''t expect them to carry. He just needed them to buy time. Coonie''s breathing was rough, buthe stayed locked in. They weren''t winning this quarter. But they just had to survive it. Three more minutes. That was all. ..... [3rd Quarter C 2:00 Remaining] Coonie''s breath was ragged. His chest heaved, his legs felt like lead, and his arms? Shaking. But despite everythingthey were still in it. Not winning. Not dominating. But surviving. He glanced up at the scoreboard, wiping the sweat from his brow. [Orlando Hoops C 73] [Vorpal Basket C 56] Still down big. Still getting outplayed. Butthis wasn''t the massacre he expected. They weren''t completely getting crushed. They weren''t collapsing. They were hanging on. Coonie exhaled sharply, his mind racing. "(We''re keeping up... but how?)" It didn''t make sense. He wasn''t this good. Kai Mendoza wasn''t this fast. Jeremy Park wasn''t this solid in the paint. They were benchwarmers. Not starters. Not elite players. And yetthey were holding their own. Coonie narrowed his eyes. Something felt off. Not in a bad way. But... in a way that didn''t feel natural He stole a glance at Ethan Albarado. Ethan stood near half-court, watching everything unfold. Composed. Calm. And that damn smirk still on his face. "(Did... he do something?)" Coonie''s grip tightened on his jersey. He knew himself. He knew he wasn''t playing this well. So what the hell changed? His eyes flicked to Kai Mendoza. The guy was moving faster than usual. Not insanely fast. Not star-player quick. But just enough. Kai wasn''t beating his defenders, but he was keeping up. He was contesting shots. Reading plays just a little bit faster. Jeremy Parknormally outmuscled in the paintwasn''t winning rebounds. But he was boxing out harder. Jumping a little bit higher. Coonie clenched his jaw. "(Nah... that''s stupid, Coonie. That''s not how this works)" A coach''s speech? Some dramatic pep talk? That wasn''t enough to suddenly make a bench player perform like this. There was something else. Something Ethan had done. Coonie wasn''t sure what. But one thing was clear They just had to hold on. Two more minutes. .... Ethan Albarado exhaled sharply, watching his teammates struggle to keep up. It wasn''t pretty. Coonie, Kai, and Jeremy? They were barely hanging on. They weren''t beating the Orlando starters. But they weren''t collapsing, either. Ethan wiped the sweat from his forehead and narrowed his eyes. "(As expected, the card helped them keep up a little bit... But that''s that...)" He glanced at the Orlando players. Alec Storm. Mason Hayes. Julian Cross. Jaxon Wells. Ethan Blake. They were monsters. They weren''t just talented. They were well-trained. Disciplined. Refined. "(These guys trained their whole lives for this.)" Basketball wasn''t just a game to them. It was a lifestyle A career. A future. And Vorpal Basket? What did they have? Nothing. Ethan clenched his fists. "(Thanks to our fucking coach, our team doesn''t even have a motivation to train.)" It was obvious. Who the hell would train their ass off when they lost every game? When their coach didn''t care? When their system was built for failure? Ethan gritted his teeth. "(No one believes in us.)" They were benchwarmers. Losers. Nobodies. And yet Right now... They were still here. Still fighting. Ethan''s gaze shifted to Coonie. Despite his heavy breathing, despite the exhaustion in his eyes He wasn''t backing down. And then A system notification popped up. [SYSTEM DETECTED HIDDEN ABILITY] Ethan raised an eyebrow. "(HUH?)" The translucent blue window flickered in front of him. [Clutch Instinct] (Locked Ability) Description: A latent skill that awakens when Coonie Smith is placed in a high-stakes moment. Under intense pressure, his mind sharpens, and his body reacts instinctively, allowing him to perform beyond his usual capabilities. Ethan''s eyes widened slightly. "(HOH...)" A hidden talent? Coonie had something like this? Ethan glanced at him again. He looked dead tired. But his stance? Still solid. His eyes? Still locked in. Ethan smirked. "(This guy... If he hone this skill...)" "(He could be a damn problem on the court.)" Maybe not now. Maybe not even this game. But if Coonie pushed himselfif he learned how to awaken this ability on command He could turn into a player no one expected. Ethan stretched his fingers, letting out a deep sigh. He already knew what was coming next. "(Orlando''s coach is smart. He''s probably going to sub out the starters now.)" These guys weren''t machines. They weren''t going to waste energy if they didn''t need to. And Vorpal''s bench? They weren''t good enough to warrant keeping Orlando''s best players on the court. Coach Corson wasn''t stupid. He was going to give his starters a break. Which meant Vorpal had a tiny window. A chance to steal some momentum back. Ethan grinned. "(Well then... Let''s see what we can do with it.)" .... [3rd Quarter C 1:20 Remaining] [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 74 Vorpal Basket C 58 Coach Guy Corson stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, his sharp eyes locked onto the court. His starting fiveAlec Storm, Mason Hayes, Julian Cross, Ethan Blake, and Jaxon Wellswere still playing with intensity. But he wasn''t blind. He could see it. The exhaustion creeping in. Jaxon''s movements weren''t as explosive. Mason''s footwork was slightly slower. Alec''s reactions were just a little delayed. They had been running the entire quarter at full intensity. And Vorpal Basket? They were still fighting. Coach Corson clenched his jaw. "(My team is exhausted. At this rate, they can''t handle half a minute of the 4TH quarter if this continues.)" His fingers tapped against his arm. It was time. He raised his hand toward the score table. "SUBS! FIVE IN, FIVE OUT!" The referee blew the whistle. The entire gym went silent for a second. Thenmurmurs. "What? He''s subbing all of them?" "Alec''s going to the bench? Even Jaxon?" "Waitwhy now?" Ethan Albarado''s eyes narrowed. He saw Alec Storm glance toward the bench, frustration flashing in his eyes. Alec hated sitting out. But he wasn''t stupid. He knew Corson was making the right call. Jaxon Wells, the dominant center, took a deep breath as he walked toward the bench. He wiped sweat from his forehead, his massive frame still radiating intensity. As he passed Ethan, he muttered "Don''t think this sh*t is over." Ethan smirked. "Never did." Lucas Graves, standing nearby, exhaled sharply. "They''re resting their main five..." Evan Cooper cracked his knuckles. "Albarado knows what his doing." Coach Corson turned toward his second unitthe backup squad. They weren''t as strong. But they knew their job. Hold the lead. Control the pace. Run the clock. Corson''s eyes hardened. "(Even if they close the gap a little, as long as my starters rest, we''ll crush them in the fourth.)" He watched as his backups jogged onto the floor. And across from them Ethan Albarado was grinning. "(THIS... THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED.)" To be continue Chapter 27 - 17:Coonie the Clutch Chapter 27 - 17:Coonie the Clutch [Noah White''s POV] The gym was alive with energythe sound of sneakers screeching against the hardwood, the deep echoes of the ball bouncing, the roaring crowd reacting to every play. But Noah White barely heard any of it. His eyes were glued to the court. To Vorpal Basket. To his little brother. Or ratherthe empty spot where Aiden White should have been standing. Noah clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palm. He tried to focus on the game. He tried to just watch. But the painthat old, familiar painnever left him. "(If only I didn''t have this stupid injury back then... perhaps I could be like them.)" A deep, aching regret swirled inside him. Noah had once been one of the best. More of a prodigy than Alec Storm himself. But fate didn''t care about talent. It didn''t care about dreams. The moment his ACL snapped, everything changed. His entire basketball futuregone. And now? Now, he could only watch. His gaze landed on Ethan Albarado. A player he had never heard of. Yet Noah''s green eyes narrowed. "This guy... he''s different." There was something about the way Ethan moved. His ball-handling. His court vision. His passes. Noah had seen elite passers before. But this? This wasn''t ordinary. This was instinct. Noah leaned forward slightly, eyes flicking toward the scoreboard. [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 76 Vorpal Basket C 62 [3rd Quarter C 1:00 Remaining] He exhaled, gripping the railing in front of him. "(Almost there...)" He wanted this win. Not for himself. Not even for Vorpal Basket. But for Aiden. His little brother. Noah may not have been able to continue his basketball dream. But Aiden could. And if he couldn''t be out there Then at the very least, he wanted his brother to win. Even if it was just this one game. ..... [Ethan Albarado''s POV] The ball bounced rhythmically against the polished hardwood as Ethan dribbled up the court. His movements were smoothcontrolledbut his mind was racing. His blue eyes scanned the floor, taking everything in. He didn''t need to look at the scoreboard. He already knew. "(We can''t surpass their score. Not yet.)" But winning wasn''t the goal of this quarter. "(We can stop them from scoring until the 4th. If I just play my cards right...)" He sucked in a sharp breath. The five players in front of himOrlando''s bench squadweren''t weak. Even their reserves were a level above most teams'' starters. They were quick. Strong. Disciplined. Ethan clicked his tongue. "(Even their bench is strong...)" He stole a quick glance at his own teammates. Kai Mendoza. Coonie Smith. Jeremy Park. Brandon Young. They were panting. Sweat dripped from their brows. Their jerseys clung to their bodies. But They were still standing. Still fighting. Ethan exhaled slowly, his lips curling into a small smirk. "(Well, it''s not like we''re not that good either...)" He locked eyes with Coonie Smith, who was watching him with a confused expression. Ethan just grinned. He already had a countermeasure. He had been waiting for this moment. One minute left in the third quarter. The perfect time to shut Orlando down. And when the fourth quarter came They wouldn''t just defend. They would strike. ... [3rd Quarter C 0:40 Remaining] [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 76 Vorpal Basket C 62 Coonie Smith felt his breath hitch for a second. Ethan Albarado had just passed the ball to Jeremy Park, one of the lesser-used bench players. Why? Ethan wasn''t the type to make random plays. There was always a reason. Coonie narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything Ethan turned toward him. And he stared. A long, sharp stare. Coonie frowned. (What the hell? Why is he looking at me?) His body tensed instinctively. Did he do something wrong? Did Ethan expect him to move? Before Coonie could figure it out, Ethan walked up to him. "Coonie." Coonie blinked. "Yes? I meanwhat?" Ethan''s voice was steady, calm, but there was something in his tone. Something serious. "I have a plan... only you can do." Coonie''s brow furrowed. "Only me?" Ethan nodded, his blue eyes filled with confidence. "Yes. Only you." Something about those words made Coonie feel strange. Not nervous. Not pressured. But... seen. Like, for the first time, someone expected something from him. Like someone actually believed in him. Ethan''s gaze flickered slightly. His system screen was upthe translucent window only he could see. And there it was. A locked ability. ... [Clutch Instinct] C (Locked Ability) A hidden talent only activated under high-pressure situations. Boosts reaction speed, decision-making, and shot accuracy in critical moments. Ethan''s eyes glowed with determination. (Time to unlock his ability!) He needed Coonie to step up. Not Lucas. Not Evan. Not Ryan or Brandon. Coonie. Because right now, only he could pull this off. Ethan inhaled sharply, looking at the game clock. 0:40 seconds left. Not much time. He clenched his fists. They had one last chance before the fourth quarter. And he was going to make it count. .... [3rd Quarter C 0:35 Remaining] [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 76 Vorpal Basket C 62 Jeremy ParkVorpal Basket''s Power Forward, number 42dribbled up the court. His eyes locked onto his defender. A tall, muscular power forward standing in front of him. Dark skin, sharp eyes, an intimidating presence. And on his jersey #42 CFreeman. Jeremy''s fingers gripped the ball tighter. He exhaled slowly. "(42 like me, huh.)" But before he could even process the thought Ralph smirked. "But talented than you." Jeremy''s body stiffened. "(Tch.)" He didn''t react outwardly, but inside? He felt a spark of irritation. Ralph wasn''t just talking. He meant it. Jeremy could see it in his eyes. That superiority. That confidence. Like he was already convinced that he was better. That this wasn''t even a competition. Jeremy''s jaw tightened. He wanted to say something. To throw something back at Ralph. Butfuck that. He let his actions talk instead. Jeremy lowered his stance, dribbling aggressively with his left hand. A hard pound dribble. The ball bounced off the polished floor with a sharp thud, the sound echoing in the gym. Ralph Freeman didn''t move. He just watched. Waiting. "(Tsk. He''s testing me.)" Jeremy took a quick jab step forward, selling the drive Ralph didn''t bite. Jeremy''s eyes flickered. "(He''s patient... but I''m not stopping here.)" A quick crossover. Left to right. Jeremy shifted his weight, pushing off his right footdriving hard to the basket. But Ralph reacted instantly. His body moved before Jeremy even took his second step. His footwork was sharp. His lateral movement? Perfect. He cut off the drive effortlessly. Jeremy nearly stumbled. (Shithe read me?) Ralph smirked again, his voice low and taunting. "That all you got, number 42?" Jeremy gritted his teeth. He wasn''t done. He faked a spin Then pivoted back toward the baseline, trying to shake Ralph off. But Ralph? He didn''t even flinch. He stayed locked in, arms wide, stance strong. Jeremy suddenly felt suffocated. Like no matter what move he made, Ralph had an answer. Like he was trapped. Jeremy''s heart pounded. "(Fuck... he''s strong.)" His teammates were shouting for him to pass. But he didn''t want to. Not yet. Not against him. Not against this arrogant bastard. He clenched his teeth, switching the ball back to his right hand. He had one more move left. A desperate move. A fadeaway. Jeremy planted his feet Jumped Flicked his wrist The ball soared through the air. For a secondjust a secondJeremy thought it might go in. But then SMACK. A massive hand slapped the ball mid-air. A clean block. Ralph Freeman had anticipated it. Had read it perfectly. The ball flew toward the sidelines. Out of bounds. Jeremy landed hard, his breath ragged. He stared at Ralph, disbelief in his eyes. Ralph? He didn''t even look surprised. He just stood there. Tall. Unshaken. Thenhe smirked. "You''re not on my level." The gym buzzed with murmurs. The Orlando bench clapped. Coach Corson gave a satisfied nod. Jeremy? He gritted his teeth. He felt like shit. But more than that He felt pissed. Ethan Albarado watched the whole thing from the three-point line. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. (Damn it. That was rough.) Brandon, standing beside him , clicked his tongue. "That guy... he''s on another level." Ethan didn''t disagree. But He looked at Jeremy. At the way his fists clenched. At the way his eyes burned with frustration. And Ethan smirked. (Good. Get mad, Jeremy. Use that anger.) Because the game wasn''t over yet. [3rd Quarter C 0:17 Remaining] [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 76 Vorpal Basket C 62 The gym was electric. The atmosphere tense. Every second on the clock felt heavier. Ethan Albarado''s sharp blue eyes flickered toward the scoreboard. "(Seventeen seconds left.)" Just one more possession. One last shot before the quarter ended. Ethan turned his gaze toward Coonie Smith. Coonie was panting, tense. His fingers twitched. But Ethan? He grinned. (I''m counting on you, Coonie.) Coonie''s heart pounded hard in his chest. The weight of the moment crashed down on him. He wasn''t the star player. He wasn''t the go-to scorer. But Right now? The ball was going to come to him. And he had to make it. He had to. He remembered Ethan''s words. .... "Coonie, if I pass you the ball, you need to shoot it. No hesitation. No overthinking. Just shoot." Coonie had scoffed at first. "So that''s your plan?" Ethan had nodded, his voice steady. "Yes. Just leave it to me. I guarantee you can shoot it without fail." ... Coonie''s fingers curled into a fist. Back in the present, he swallowed hard. He glanced at the game clock. 0:17. (No more doubting myself.) Ethan dribbled up the court, eyes scanning the floor. Lucas Graves was on the bench now, he loves to stand and watch the game. A basketball addict. Evan Cooper? Resting for the fourth quarter. The starters were out. This was on him. The Orlando Hoops bench unit wasn''t weak. They still had athletic, capable players. But they weren''t Alec Storm, Mason Hayes, or Julian Cross. Which meant They could be exploited. Ethan kept his dribble steady as he moved toward the right wing. His defender, Terrance Woods, a long-armed shooting guard from Orlando''s bench, shadowed him tightly. Ethan bounced the ball low, waiting. Reading. The defense was overcommitting. They were anticipating a drive. "(Perfect.)" With 0:12 seconds left Ethan made his move. A sudden explosive first step toward the left, forcing Terrance to shift. Thena quick spin back to the right. Terrance''s body tensedhe was half a step too late. Ethan had created just enough space. Nowhe just needed to draw them in. With 0:08 seconds left He drove hard into the paint. Orlando''s backup center, Darnell Fox, a bulky 6''6" player, stepped up to contest. (Gotcha.) Ethan jumped But he didn''t go for the layup. He whipped a no-look pass behind his back. The ball shot straight toward the left wing. Right into Coonie Smith''s hands. Coonie''s eyes widened. The ball was there. In his hands. The clock ticked down. 0:05... He could hear the crowd. The footsteps. The shouting. His mind screamed at himShoot. Now. Coonie sucked in a sharp breath. And then He rose up. 0:03... Orlando''s defenders lunged toward him. Jared Wallace, a scrappy defensive forward, was closing in fast. 0:02... Coonie released the shot. The ball soared through the air. The gym fell into a hushed silence. 0:01... Every eye was locked onto the spinning ball. The buzzer blared. And then SWISH. Nothing but net. The crowd EXPLODED. Coonie froze. For a split second, he didn''t move. He just stared at the rim. The ball had gone in. He had made it. His shot. He hit the buzzer-beater. Ethan, still standing at the top of the key, grinned. (Told you, Coonie.) Lucas punched the air from the bench. Kai Mendoza grabbed Coonie''s shoulders, shaking him. "Holy shit, you hit that!!" Brandon Young rushed over, grinning. Coonie staggered back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Then A sharp exhale. And a grin. He pumped his fist in the air. "Fuck yeah!" The bench erupted. Even the Orlando Hoops players were caught off guard. Jared Wallace clenched his jaw. "Tch. That was lucky." But deep downhe knew. It wasn''t. Coach Corson''s lips pressed into a thin line. "Instinct..." Meanwhile, Ethan Albarado? He just wiped the sweat from his chin. And smirked. "(I told you I''d guarantee it.)" The scoreboard updated. [End of 3rd Quarter C Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 76 Vorpal Basket C 65 And just like that Vorpal Basket was back in the game. To be continue Chapter 28 - 18: The Final Quarter Begins Chapter 28 - 18: The Final Quarter Begins [4th Quarter C 10:00 Remaining] The final showdown. Ten minutes. Two teams. No second chances. Ethan Albarado stood at the center of the court, staring down the enemy. Across from himOrlando Hoops'' best five. Alec Storm. Mason Hayes. Julian Cross. Ethan Blake. Jaxon Wells. The elites. Ethan clenched his fists, his heart hammering against his chest. Lucas Graves, standing beside him, rolled his shoulders. Ryan Taylor wiped the sweat from his brow. Brandon Young exhaled deeply, locking his gaze on Jaxon Wells. Everyone knew it. This was it. This was the quarter that would decide everything. .......... On the sidelines, the bench players watched with burning intensity. Coonie Smith sat on the edge of his seat, fingers curled into fists. His black eyes locked onto Ethan, burning with unfiltered determination. (Crush those fuckers.) Jeremy Park, arms crossed, let out a slow breath. Kai Mendoza leaned forward, gripping his knees. None of them had any doubts. They had done their part. Now, it was time for the starters to finish it. ...... Meanwhile, on Orlando Hoops'' bench, Coach Corson observed his players carefully. His cold eyes traced over Alec Storm, Mason Hayes, Julian Cross, Ethan Blake, and Jaxon Wells. The best he had. The players he had trained. The ones who didn''t lose. Slowly, Corson nodded. He didn''t have to say anything. The five players already knew what they had to do. "(Stick to the plan... If you all stick to the plan, we will win.)" Alec Storm, standing at the center of the court, smirked. His sharp eyes flickered with anticipation. "(Let''s finish this.)" The referee stepped forward, raising his whistle. Both teams took their positions. The crowd held its breath. The final quarter was about to begin. .... The gym pulsed with tension. Every single pair of eyes in the crowd was locked onto the court. The final quarter had begun, and both teams had sent out their best five. No more holding back. No more testing the waters. This was the final stretch. The game that would decide everything. Alec Storm dribbled up the court with an icy confidence, his movements sharp, controlled. His jersey clung to his skin, drenched in sweat, but his steps were as light as ever. He didn''t look tired. He didn''t feel tired. Because right now He was fully locked in. Mason Hayes, running beside him, glanced his way and gave a subtle nod. Alec didn''t react, but he understood the signal. This was it. Their time to dominate. Across from him, Evan Cooper stood low in a defensive stance, his breaths heavy, his hands twitching slightly. His legs burned. His arms felt like lead. But his focus never wavered. Because right now Nothing else mattered. He had one job. Stop Alec Storm. Alec met Evan''s gaze and smirked. "(He''s really determined, huh?)" But determination alone wouldn''t be enough. Alec took a sharp step forwardthen suddenly spun, pulling off a Half-Spin Dribble. Evan tracked him closely, his instincts screaming for him to stay put. He didn''t bite. "(Good.)" Alec grinned. "(But can you keep up with this?)" His left foot pivoted backward Then, in a flash, he flicked the ball behind his back while moving away. Behind-the-Back Escape Dribble. A signature move that made space instantly. Evan stumbled forward slightly. That was all Alec needed. Alec burst forward, his dribble smooth, controlled. Lucas Graves reacted instantly. He read the attack. He dashed in front of Alec, eyes glowing with intensity. Alec expected this. He wanted this. Because the moment Lucas stepped up Julian Cross was left open. And Alec wasn''t about to miss that opportunity. Without even hesitating, he whipped a perfect pass left. A bullet pass. Right into Julian''s hands. Alec grinned. "You shouldn''t leave him wide open." Lucas'' face twisted in frustration. Julian planted his feet, ready to launch the shot. The crowd tensed. Everything was going perfectly Until it wasn''t. SWIPE! The ball never made it to Julian. A blur of white and gold shot in between them. A hand reached out. A clean steal. Alec''s eyes snapped wide open. Julian stumbled forward, his arms now completely empty. The ball Was gone. The entire gym fell into a stunned silence. Ethan Albarado stood at the top of the key, the ball firmly in his grasp. For a moment No one moved. Alec''s breathing hitched. He had never expected it. He had never even considered it. But Ethan Ethan had been there, waiting. Like he had known exactly where the pass was going to go. Alec gritted his teeth. (Albarado?!) His heartbeat pounded in his ears. How? Ethan twirled the ball lazily between his fingers, tilting his head slightly. Then, his lips curled into a smirk. "Well... a fluke." Alec froze. Lucas, watching from the side, grinned slightly. "(He''s messing with them. Nice.)" The crowd erupted. Gasps, cheers, and murmurs filled the air. Even the Orlando Hoops bench players were left speechless. Evan Cooper nearly laughed. Ryan Taylor shook his head in disbelief. "(That was smooth as hell.)" Alec clenched his jaw. Because deep down He knew it wasn''t a fluke. Ethan had seen that play. Ethan had read him. Planned for it. And now He was about to punish him for it. .... The ball was in Ethan Albarado''s hands. Alec Storm''s fingers twitched. He hated this feeling. This was his game. He had been dictating the pace since the beginning. And yet That damn steal. Ethan Albarado had thrown off the rhythm. Alec clenched his fists. "(Tch. Fine. Let''s see what you do now, Albarado.)" The moment Ethan turned and sprinted up the court, the entire gym felt like it shifted. The pace changed. Everything changed. Lucas Graves saw it instantly. A spark. That one playthat one stealhad shifted the momentum. Lucas dashed up the left wing. Ryan Taylor ran toward the right. Brandon Young sprinted to the paint, fighting for position against Jaxon Wells. Ethan dribbled forward, eyes locked onto Alec Storm. Alec rushed to cut him off, his expression sharp. "Not this time!" Ethan smirked. "(We''ll see about that.)" Right as Alec lunged in for a steal Ethan snapped the ball behind his back, switching hands instantly. Alec bit hard on the fake He had no choice. Ethan had already moved past him. Alec cursed under his breath. "(Shit! He baited me!)" Mason Hayes was next. He slid in, arms wide, eyes sharp. "You''re not getting through!" Ethan didn''t even slow down. He planted his left foot Then exploded sideways with a quick Euro step. The crowd gasped. Smooth. Effortless. Perfect. Mason lungedtoo late. Ethan was already past him. Julian Cross was in the paint. Waiting. Ethan read the positioning instantly. Jaxon Wells was guarding Brandon. Julian was about to rotatebut he hesitated. Ethan''s eyes flicked upfaking like he was going to shoot. Julian bit. "(Damn it! It''s a pass!)" The moment Julian''s hands rose, Ethan flicked a no-look pass behind his back. The ball zipped past Julianright into Lucas Graves'' hands. Lucas caught it in perfect rhythm. He didn''t hesitate. He didn''t second-guess. He didn''t need to. Because Ethan had set it up perfectly. Lucas rose. A clean, controlled shooting form. The ball left his fingertips Spinning Spinning SWISH! Nothing but net. The crowd exploded. Coach Corson''s eyes narrowed. "(...That''s not normal court vision.)" Lucas pumped his fist as he jogged back on defense. He looked at Ethan. Ethan grinned. Lucas smile. Julian Cross shook his head, already sprinting up the court. ... [4th Quarter C 9:10 Remaining] Alec Storm dribbled past half-court, his expression unreadable. But insidehe was fuming. "(First possession of the fourth quarter, and we let them score? Tch... That''s bad.)" He scanned the court quickly. Mason Hayes ran beside him, his face tight with frustration. "Alec. We need to kill their momentum. Now." Alec didn''t respond immediately. Because he knew. Lucas Graves'' shot wasn''t just three points. It was a shift. It was a message. Vorpal Basket wasn''t rolling over and dying. They were fighting back. Alec clicked his tongue. (We can''t let this spiral.) He turned his gaze to Julian Cross, who nodded in return. Julian knew it too. They had to score on this possession. Not just to maintain the leadbut to break Vorpal''s rhythm before it even started. Alec picked up his pace. Lucas stayed in front of him, his golden eyes focused. Ethan Albarado hovered nearby, waiting to pounce. Alec knew what that meant. "(Tch. He''s reading me again.)" He needed to throw them off. Alec planted his foot and faked a hard drive to the left. Lucas reactedjust a half-step. That was enough. Alec pulled the ball back with a smooth hesitation dribblethen exploded forward with his signature "Alec Escape Dribble." Lucas chasedbut Alec had already gained half a step. Ryan Taylor shifted over to help. Alec smirked. "(Got you.)" With a quick flick of his wrista bullet pass shot toward Julian Cross. Julian caught it in stride, already moving toward the hoop. (Just one step) But then Ethan Albarado was there. Reading it. Anticipating it. Julian froze for a half-second. Alec''s eyes widened. "(Shit! He baited us again?!)" Julian had no choice. He kicked the ball outstraight to Mason Hayes at the top of the key. Mason didn''t hesitate. He rose for the three. Brandon Young lunged to contest. The ball sailed Spinning Spinning CLANG! The shot bounced off the rim. Lucas Graves skyrocketed for the rebound, grabbing it over Jaxon Wells. The crowd roared. Alec''s heart sank. This was bad. Because that wasn''t just a missed shot. That was another stolen opportunity. And Vorpal Basket wasn''t stopping. The arena exploded with cheers. Lucas Graves sprinted down the court, dribbling at full speed. Jaxon Wells, Orlando''s defensive anchor, chased behind him. But Lucas was already ahead. Ethan Albarado trailed behind, watching the play unfold. He felt it. The shift. The momentum. Vorpal Basket was gaining ground. Lucas took his final step, gathering the ball. Jaxon lunged from behind, arms outstretched Too late. Lucas adjusted in mid-air, twisting his body away from Jaxon''s reach. With a soft flick The ball kissed off the glass. SWISH! The crowd erupted. [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 76 Vorpal Basket C 70 Ethan smirked. "(That''s it. Keep pushing.)" Alec Storm, standing near half-court, gritted his teeth. "(Shit. We''re losing grip of this game.)" He turned toward his coach. Coach Corson was silent. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable. But his sharp eyes flickered between Lucas and Ethan. Ethan noticed it instantly. Coach Corson wasn''t just watching them. He was evaluating. Calculating. "(He''s planning something.)" Coach Corson finally exhaled. His lips curled into a knowing smirk. Thenhe raised his hand. Time out. The whistle blew. Alec''s eyes widened. "(A time-out? Now?!)" Ethan and Lucas exchanged glances. Something was off. Coach Corson gathered his players near the bench. His voice was low. Cold. "It looks like Plan A isn''t working." His players remained silent. They knew what that meant. Coach Corson''s eyes darkened. He turned toward Alec, Mason, Julian, Ethan Blake, and Jaxon. "We''re moving to Plan B." Mason Hayes clenched his fists. Julian Cross exhaled sharply. Even Jaxon Wellstheir silent defensive wallnodded grimly. Alec narrowed his eyes. "(Plan B... we didn''t want to use this, but... we have no choice.)" Coach Corson''s voice cut through the tension. "They only have two weapons. Two." He pointed toward the opposite side of the court. Ethan Albarado. Lucas Graves. "One who can mimic." His gaze lingered on Lucas. "A prodigy." Thenhis eyes locked onto Ethan. "And one who has insane court vision and passing. A high-IQ playmaker. A genius." Ethan watched from a distance, his sharp blue eyes reading every movement. He saw the shift. The way Orlando''s players straightened their backs. The way they locked eyes with one another. The way Coach Corson''s expression shifted from calm to deadly focused. Ethan narrowed his eyes. "(They''re about to change their entire approach.)" To be continue Chapter 29: POV OF THE BENCHPLAYER Chapter 29 - POV OF THE BENCHPLAYER The atmosphere in the gym was electric. Every dribble, every movementit all felt heavier now. On the bench, Coonie Smith leaned forward, gripping his knees. His sharp black eyes followed Lucas Graves and Ethan Albarado like a hawk. "(What the hell am I even watching right now?)" Lucas had just snatched a rebound over Jaxon Wells. That alone was insane. Jaxon was the best center in the league. A monster in the paint. A rebounding machine. And yet Lucas, a bench player, had outjumped him. Coonie wasn''t the only one stunned. Jeremy Park, who had played earlier in the game, was staring at the court, mouth slightly open. Kai Mendoza, another bench player, shook his head in disbelief. "Yo, did Graves just" "Yeah, he fucking did." Coonie muttered, eyes wide. Lucas landed, immediately kicking the ball out to Ethan. And thenEthan Albarado took control. The moment he got the ball, everything slowed down. His eyes scanned the court, his posture shifting. It wasn''t just confidence. It was control. It was like he already knew what was going to happen. The bench could see it. Hell, everyone in the gym could see it. Noah White, Aiden''s older brother, sat completely still, his hands gripping his jeans. He had never seen anything like this. Lucas and Ethan weren''t just bench players stepping up. They were dominating. And the crazy part? It wasn''t luck. It wasn''t flukes. They were actually that good. Coonie clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "(These two... they''re not normal.)" Jeremy finally broke the silence. "Bro. What the fuck. How were these guys bench players?!" Kai exhaled sharply. "Coach never gave them a chance. That fatass never even played Ethan once before this." Jeremy grit his teeth. "(This whole time... we had these two just sitting on the fucking bench?)" He turned to look at Coach Fred Mason. The idiot looked nervous. Of course he did. He had spent the entire season sabotaging this team with favoritism and no strategy. And now, two guys he kept buried on the bench were proving how much of a fraud he was. Coonie sneered. "(Bet you''re shitting yourself now, huh, Coach?)" Meanwhile, on the court Lucas and Ethan were locked in. Lucas wiped the sweat off his chin, golden eyes burning with determination. Ethan dribbled calmly, his fingers tapping against the ball, his breathing controlled. There was no panic. No hesitation. The two of thembench playershad taken the game into their hands. And for the first time since the tip-off... Orlando Hoops looked uncertain. Noah White let out a breath he hadn''t realized he was holding. He turned to his injured little brother, Aiden White. Aiden was staring, completely frozen. "...Holy shit." Aiden muttered. "Lucas and Ethan are actually fucking insane." Noah just nodded what his brother saying. "hmm." Because the truth was obvious now. They weren''t just some lucky benchwarmers. Lucas Graves and Ethan Albarado were built for this. And they weren''t done yet. Lily, their little sister, turned toward him. "Noah... do you think they can win?" Noah turned back to the court. To Lucas, who had just grabbed a rebound over Jaxon Wells. To Ethan, who was scanning the court with those sharp, calculating eyes. And finallyto Coach Corson, who had just called a timeout. Noah''s stomach tightened. Something was coming. He could feel it. He took a deep breath. "...I don''t know," he finally said. "But they''re not going down easy." Chapter 30 - 19: Offensive Tactics Chapter 30 - 19: Offensive Tactics [4th Quarter C 8:40 Remaining] [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 76 Vorpal Basket C 70 Alec Storm dribbled up the court, his sharp eyes scanning the defense. He could feel the tension. The momentum was shifting. Vorpal Basket was creeping closer, and the crowd knew it. But Alec wasn''t worried. He smirked, tightening his grip on the ball. "(Time to execute the plan.)" Coach Corson''s voice echoed in his mind. "Plan B. If things get rough, we''re running Iso & Superstar-Centered Plays. We take the ball out of their hands and slow the game down." Alec nodded to himself. "(That''s right. Keep control. Make them play at our pace.)" He raised his hand, signaling the formation. Four Orlando players spread out along the perimeter. One at each wing. One in the corner. One up top. Leaving Alec completely alone at the top of the key. 1-4 High Isolation. A formation designed for elite scorers. A play specifically designed for elite scorers. Alec smirked, dribbling the ball slowly, watching Lucas Graves in front of him. Lucas had been insane tonight. His Absolute Mimicry had stolen the spotlight. But Alec could see it. The exhaustion creeping into his legs. His breathing was sharp, forced. Lucas was still locked inbut for how much longer? Alec bounced the ball between his legs, swaying back and forth. No rush. No panic. Let them sweat. Let them think they still had momentum. Lucas narrowed his eyes, lowering his stance. Alec saw it immediately. "(He''s biting. Good.)" Alec jab-stepped right. Lucas twitched. Alec immediately snapped left. Lucas reactedbut it was too late. Separation. Alec took a step back, rising for a mid-range jumper. Perfect shot. Perfect release. The ball arced high Swish. Bucket. The gym erupted. Coach Corson smirked. "(That''s it. Stick to the plan.)" [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 78 Vorpal Basket C 70 ...... [Ethan side] Ethan didn''t react. Didn''t flinch. He just watched. Studied. His blue eyes scanned every movement. Every spacing choice. Every hesitation Alec used to set up that shot. "(So this is your plan Coach...)" 1-4 High Isolation. A play designed to completely control the pace. To drain the clock. To let an elite scorer dictate every possession. Ethan exhaled slowly. "(They''re trying to kill our momentum.)" This wasn''t about just scoring. This was about control. And Alec Storm? He was damn good at it. Ethan turned his head slightly, looking at Lucas. Lucas was still standing tall, still looking sharp But Ethan knew the truth. "(He''s getting tired... At this rate, he won''t last the full quarter.)" Ethan wiped the sweat off his forehead, his mind racing. He glanced at the scoreboard. 8 points down. Still possible. Still winnable. But if they let Orlando keep dictating the pace like this It was over. Ethan clenched his fists. "(I need a counter for this. Fast.)" .... [4th Quarter C 8:10 Remaining] [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 78 Vorpal Basket C 70 ..... 3rd POV Evan Cooper dribbled up the court, his mind sharp, his body tense. Vorpal needed to score. They couldn''t let Orlando slow the game down. As he crossed half-court, he glanced toward Ethan Albarado. Ethan was focuseddeep in thought, analyzing the court. But before Ethan could speak "IN THE ZONE!!" Alec Storm''s voice cut through the gym like a gunshot. Everything shifted. Orlando Hoops suddenly collapsed into formation A 1-3-1 Zone Defense. Alec Storm: At the top, pressuring the ball. Julian Cross, Mason Hayes, Ethan Blake: A wall across the middle, cutting off passing lanes. Jaxon Wells: A monster waiting under the rim. A defensive wall. Designed to trap. To suffocate. To kill momentum. Evan''s eyes widened. "(Shitthis isn''t normal defense!)" Alec lunged at him immediately. Fast. Aggressive. Suffocating. Evan''s dribble became shaky. The pressure was insane. Alec''s feet danced in front of him, never giving him space, cutting off his angles. "(Damn ithow do I pass through this?!)" ... [Ethan Albarado POV] Ethan''s stomach dropped. The court looked different now. The usual spacing? Gone. The usual passing lanes? Cut off. This wasn''t just a zone. This was a trap. "(Shitwhat is this?)" His eyes scanned the floor, absorbing everything. Alec up tophounding Evan. Mason and Julian shifting side to sidecovering the wings. Ethan Blake standing like a wallblocking the middle. And Jaxon Wells? Waiting. Like a predator at the rim. Ethan exhaled sharply. "(This isn''t a normal 1-3-1.)" It was faster. More fluid. More dangerous. Coach Corson smirked from the sidelines. "(It''s working.)" Because this wasn''t just any 1-3-1 Zone. It was a modified version. The "Trap & Chaos" Zone. The goal? Force panic. Force mistakes. Force turnovers. "Damn itthere must be something!" Ethan thought, his mind racing. Evan was running out of time. The trap was closing in. Mason stepped up. Julian stepped up. Evan was surrounded. No escape. Alec''s smirk widened. "Turn it over, Cooper." Evan gritted his teeth. Ethan''s eyes flickered. Then He saw it. A small gap. A split second. A single weak spot. "(THERE!)" Ethan sprinted forward. "EVAN! HERE!" Evan''s hands moved instinctively. A sharp, desperate passfiring toward Ethan. Alec lunged Too late. Ethan caught it clean. But the moment he caught it, the trap collapsed on him. Alec Storm snapped forward, his arms stretched wide, cutting off Ethan''s view of the court. Julian Cross and Mason Hayes closed in from the sides, boxing him in. Ethan''s instincts screamed at himmove! He tried to dribble leftblocked. He tried to spin rightwalled off. "(What?!)" Ethan had never felt pressure like this before. Every time he moved, Orlando''s defense shifted instantly. "(They''re reacting before I can even do anything?! How?!)" Ethan''s grip on the ball tightened. The shot clock ticked down. 10 seconds. Ethan faked leftnothing. He faked a passstill nothing. Alec smirked, eyes sharp. "You''re stuck, rookie." "(Damn itI need an opening!)" 8 seconds. He spotted Lucas Graves cutting toward the wing. Lucas raised his hands, calling for it. Ethan whipped a pass Mason Hayes intercepted it. "Tsk!" The ball was gone. Mason immediately pushed forward, starting a fast break. Ethan sprinted back. Lucas chased after Masonbut Julian Cross was already running beside him. Mason passedJulian caught it clean. Lucas lunged, trying to block him Too late. Julian rose into the air, a perfect mid-air adjustmentand slammed it down. BOOM! The rim shook violently. The crowd erupted. "JULIAN CROSS WITH THE FAST BREAK SLAM!!!" [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 82 Vorpal Basket C 70 Lucas gritted his teeth as he landed. He had read that movebut he was still too slow. ... Ethan Albarado POV "(Damn it.)" I wiped the sweat off my face. This wasn''t just a normal defense. This was a trap. A perfect suffocating wall. Alec and the others were forcing us into bad passes. The moment we tried to movethey cut us off. And the worst part? They were reading us. Every mistake we made, they were one step ahead. I looked at Coach Corson on the Orlando bench. He wasn''t shouting. He wasn''t panicking. He was watching. Studying. "(He knows we haven''t figured it out yet...)" A sharp whistle snapped me out of my thoughts. Vorpal had possession again. Evan Cooper inbounded the ballstraight to me. I caught it. The trap collapsed instantly. "(Shitalready?!)" Alec pressed up against me. Julian and Mason covered the passing lanes. I tried to break throughnowhere to go. "Move it." Alec''s voice was low, mocking. I gritted my teeth. "(I need to passNOW!)" I spotted Ryan Taylor open near the free-throw line. A sharp passbut too slow. Ethan Blake stole it. "(NO!)" Orlando pushed forward again. Fast break. Mason to JulianJulian to Jaxon Wells. Jaxon grabbed the ball inside the paint And slammed it down. BOOM! "JAXON WELLS WITH THE POWER DUNK!!!" The gym exploded. [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 84 Vorpal Basket C 70 "(Shit!)" I turned around and saw Lucas panting, hands on his knees. Ryan clenched his fists. Evan ran his hands through his hair. The bench players were silent. For the first time...it felt like we were drowning. I could hear Coach Mason''s stupid voice yelling from the sidelines. "Calm down! Pass the ball! Stop forcing it!" Tsk. As if he knows anything. The ref handed Evan the ball for another inbound. This time, he passed to Lucas instead of me. Lucas dribbled up...but the trap collapsed on him too. Lucas tried to escape, spinning to his right...but Julian was already there. Steal. "(Again?!)" Julian fired the ball down the court...straight to Alec Storm. Alec caught it smoothly. A perfect rhythm jumper. Swish. [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 86 Vorpal Basket C 70 The gap was getting wider. We hadn''t scored since the start of the quarter. "(This is bad...)" I forced myself to breathe. To think. I glanced at Lucas. His golden eyes were shaking. "(He''s starting to feel it too...)" Alec jogged back on defense, his smirk widening. "You guys done yet?" I clenched my fists. No. We weren''t done. But if we didn''t figure this out now We would be. "(Come on, Ethan. THINK!)" What was the weakness? How did we break through this zone? I took a deep breath. 7:10 remaining. We had time. But not much. And if we didn''t stop them soon It would be over. ... Bench POV C Vorpal Basket Coonie Smith leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. "(Shit... What the hell are we doing?)" The energy they had at the end of the third quartergone. The momentum? Crushed. Orlando Hoops was toying with them. Ethan Albarado and Lucas Graves had changed the game when they first checked in. But now? Now it looked like Orlando was dragging them back to reality. "Damn it, do something!" Coonie muttered under his breath, gripping his jersey. Next to him, Jeremy Park exhaled sharply. His face was unreadable, but his fists were curled into tight balls. Kai Mendoza sat beside them, rubbing his face with both hands . "They''re shutting us down." Kai said quietly. Coonie clicked his tongue. "Yeah, no shit." Jeremy leaned forward. "They need a plan. Fast." Coonie didn''t respond. Because he knew the truth. If Ethan and Lucas didn''t figure something out soon This game would be over. And they''d be just another team Orlando Hoops crushed under their feet. .... Coach Fred Mason POV Coach Mason stood stiffly on the sidelines, arms crossed. His foot tapped against the wooden floorfaster than usual. "(Shit, shit, shit...)" The lead was growing. Orlando had locked them down completely. He turned his gaze toward Ethan. Ethan Albarado. The wild card. The brat who had somehow gotten them back into this game in the first place. But now? Now even Ethan was struggling. "(What the hell is this defense?)" It was too coordinated. Too suffocating. And the worst part? He had no answer. "(Damn it, do something, kid...)" The moment those words entered his head, Coach Mason froze. Wait. Was he really relying on a damn benchwarmer to save the game? His stomach churned. He knew he wasn''t a real coach. He didn''t study plays. He make mediocre strategies. He just... sat back and let things happen. And now? Now, he was praying that Ethan Albarado...a player he had never even given a chance beforewould fix everything. "Damn it." He muttered under his breath. Because he knew the truth. If Ethan didn''t fix this He sure as hell wasn''t going to. To be continue Chapter 31: Author Apologize Chapter 31 - Author Apologize Over the past four days, I was unable to upload due to how overwhelmingly busy my college life has been. With back-to-back assignments, exams, and other academic responsibilities, I struggled to find the time to work on this. I truly appreciate your patience and understanding. Chapter 32 - 20: I love u Team Chapter 32 - 20: I love u Team [Score Update:] Orlando Hoops C 87 Vorpal Basket C 70 6:30 remaining C Timeout (Vorpal Basket Possession) Locker Room C Tension Rising The air was thick with frustration. The sound of heavy breathing, the occasional curse, and the squeak of shoes against the floor filled the room. Ryan Taylor paced back and forth, rubbing his face in frustration. "Shit... shit... shit..." he muttered under his breath. Evan Cooper sat on the bench, unmoving, his eyes fixed on Coach Fred Mason. His face was unreadable, but his fingers were curled into a tight fist on his knee. Brandon Young sat beside Evan, head down, fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. Lucas Graves sat slightly apart from them, panting, pouring water over his head before drinking. His golden eyes burned with exhaustion, but something else flickered beneath themdetermination. On the far side, Coonie Smith, Kai Mendoza, and Jeremy Park exchanged looks before exhaling heavily in unison. "What will we do now?" Coonie finally asked, his voice low but sharp. Evan lifted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing toward their so-called "coach." "Coach, what should we do?" The room went silent. All eyes turned to Fred Mason. But instead of answeringCoach Mason''s gaze flickered toward Ethan. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ahem... Ethan, what should we do?" Silence. For a solid three seconds, nobody spoke. Then "(This bitch.)" The collective thought echoed in the minds of nearly every player except Lucas, who simply closed his eyes and sighed. "(This lazy, incompetent piece of shit...)" Ryan Taylor gritted his teeth. "(He really passed the responsibility AGAIN?)" Evan''s fingers twitched. "(You fat bastard, at least PRETEND to have a strategy...)" Coonie clenched his jaw. Coach Mason had never been a real coach. And now, when things were at their worst, he was openly admitting he had no idea what to do. Ethan sighed, rubbing his temple. "Let me think." ..... Ethan Side A translucent blue screen materialized before him, visible only to his eyes. His mind raced as he scanned his resources. [Basketball Power System] Name: Ethan Albarado Level: Rookie Upgrade Points (UP): 100 Shop Points (SP): 0 [Core Attributes] [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 11Layup Skill: 4Dunk Skill: 3Dribbling Skill: 14Passing Skill: 5 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 3Blocking Ability: 3Steal Skill: 4 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 4Endurance: 4Speed: 9 (Base: 4 | +5 Upgraded) [Skills] Basic Power Shot Basic Precision Pass Basic Dribble Magic Johnson Passing Vision (Intermediate Level) Playmaker''s Vision (Advanced) [Active Cards Used] [Team Synergy Card Activated] C All bench players +1 to attributes for 10 minutes. [Defense Boost Card Activated] C Coonie, Jeremy, and Kai +2 Defense for 5 minutes [Shooting Accuracy Card Activated] C Coonie Smith +3 Shooting Accuracy for 5 minutes. ..... Ethan exhaled through his nose. "(Okay... I still have 100 Upgrade Points, but my Shop Points are at zero. I need more resources.)" There was only one way to get more SP. Quests. He shifted to the Quest List. ... [Quest List C Available Missions] [Quest: The Fearless Connector] Reward: 1500 SP (+500 Bonus for Passion = 2000 SP) Mission: Compliment every teammate on something unique. No generic compliments.Have a deep, meaningful conversation with a teammate you don''t normally talk to.Include someone who looks left out.Deliver a 30-second speech about why teamwork matters.Allow the team to ask one personal question, and you must answer honestly. [Quest: The Unstoppable Challenger] Reward: 1000 SP Mission: Initiate a dance battle with a teammate.Tell a funny or embarrassing secret about yourself.Challenge a teammate to an intense staring contest.Loudly cheer for yourself like you won a championship.Let your teammates dare you to do one challenge. [Quest: I Love You, Team] Reward: 1000 SP Mission: Tell every teammate "I love you."No matter how awkward or funny it feels, you must say it sincerely.This is about team bonding and morale. ... Ethan''s expression went blank. "Shit... What the fuck is this?" He scrolled back up. Then down. Then back up again. Nope. It was real. Every single one of these quests was embarrassing as hell. Ethan clenched his fists, feeling his soul physically reject this entire concept. "(This is NOT easy. This is cringe as fuck.)" But then His eyes flicked toward the scoreboard. [Orlando Hoops C 87] [Vorpal Basket C 70] [6:30 remaining.] And suddenly... His pride didn''t fucking matter. His dignity didn''t fucking matter. What mattered was winning. Ethan shut his eyes. "(I have no choice...)" He took a deep breath. Then exhaled. And with absolute deadpan seriousness He made his decision. "(I have to say ''I love you'' to every single person in this damn room...)" ... Back in the Locker Room Ethan stood up. The entire team turned toward him. Lucas Graves wiped his mouth with a towel, glancing up curiously. Coonie Smith crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. Evan Cooper leaned forward. "You got something?" Coach Fred Mason stiffened, hoping Ethan would cover for his incompetence again. Ethan exhaled through his nose. Then, with a perfectly straight face He looked every single one of them in the eye and said: "I love you." Silence. Dead. Absolute. Silence. A water bottle fell off a bench in the background. Brandon Young blinked. Ryan Taylor slowly turned his head, like he wasn''t sure if he heard that correctly. Coonie''s jaw dropped. Jeremy Park made a choking noise. Kai Mendoza''s face twitched. Evan Cooper leaned back slightly. "Uh... what?" Lucas Graves... Lucas grinned. "Heh. That''s bold, Ethan." Ethan didn''t react. He just took another deep breath. Then, as if his soul wasn''t slowly dying inside, he continued: "I love you, Lucas." "I love you, Evan." "I love you, Ryan." "I love you, Brandon." "I love you, Coonie." "I love you, Jeremy." "I love you, Kai." He turned. Looked Coach Mason dead in the eyes. And with the most strained, painful voice in human history "I love you too, Coach." Coach Mason visibly shivered. Coonie Smith, staring in horror, muttered under his breath. "Bro... what the fuck?" The room was frozen in time. Ethan Albarado stood tall, expression blank, completely unfazed despite the absolute insanity he had just unleashed. He had just told every single one of his teammates that he loved them. And Coach Mason too. Silence choked the air. No one moved. No one breathed. No one knew how to process this moment. Then "What the fuck." Ryan Taylor was the first to break the silence, blinking in pure disbelief. Coonie Smith''s entire body twitched. "Bro... what the hell was that." Jeremy Park had physically turned away, refusing to acknowledge what had just happened. Kai Mendoza looked like he wanted to pass away. "I don''t... I don''t even know how to react to this." Evan Cooper was massaging his temples. "I mean... I guess I appreciate it, but... dude..." Lucas Graves? Lucas was grinning his ass off. He wiped sweat off his forehead, then laughing his ass off. "Ethan... I love u too... Hahahahah." Ethan did not blink. Did not move. Inside, his soul had already left his body. "(I fucking hate this. I hate everything. I want to disappear.)" But then [QUEST COMPLETE!] [+1000 SP!] Ethan exhaled. It was worth it. But just as he was about to turn away Coach Fred Mason, who had been absolutely silent this entire time, suddenly clutched his chest. His eyes glazed over. His lips quivered. "Ethan... you... you love me...?" The entire room froze again. Ethan''s face physically twitched. "(Oh, fuck no.)" Coach Mason suddenly let out a choked sob. "I... I didn''t know you guys cared...!" Brandon Young, looking horrified, slowly backed away. "Yo... what the hell is going on...?" Ethan stared at Coach Mason. Then stared at the exit. Then stared at the exit harder. "(I need to get the fuck out of here.)" ..... Coonie Smith''s Side "That did NOT just happen." Coonie refused to believe what his eyes just saw. He glanced at Lucas, who was still smiling, clearly enjoying the scene. "(That bastard is just watching this for entertainment...)" Connie Thought Meanwhile, Ethan stood there, completely still, like a man who had just realized he sold his dignity for a power-up. Coonie took a deep breath. "Alright, We all heard some weird shit just now, but we''re gonna pretend it didn''t happen, got it?" Jeremy Park nodded aggressively. "Yup. Absolutely. Erasing it from my brain immediately." Kai Mendoza sighed. "Too late. I already have emotional damage." Ryan Taylor rubbed his eyes. "That was the worst timeout in basketball history." Ethan refused to acknowledge reality. The trauma. The damage. The absolute cringe-fest he had just subjected his team to. He tuned out the stares. The horrified expressions. The deep sighs of men questioning their life choices. Instead He focused on his system window. .... Ethan''s POV "(Shit... that was embarrassing.)" I mentally scrolled through the system shop, ignoring my wounded dignity. We had 6:30 left. We needed a miracle. And I needed to spend wisely. I had 1000 SP. Enough for one big skill or several cards. My mind raced. I needed something that wouldn''t just make me stronger... but my entire team. A teammate skill. Something that could turn the tide. System Shop C Available Skills & Cards [Skills Section] Jordan Shooting Form C 1000 SP Kobe Shooting Form C 1000 SP Magic Johnson Court Control C 1200 SP Nash Pick & Roll Mastery C 800 SP Stockton Assist Machine C 1000 SP Duncan Defensive Anchor C 1200 SP Iverson Crossover Package C 900 SP Dwyane Wade Slashing Instinct C 950 SP [Cards Section] Team Synergy Card C 500 SP (Boosts All teammates'' attributes boosted by +2 for 10 minutes.) Defense Boost Card C 300 SP (+2 Defense for 5 minutes for two teammates) Shooting Accuracy Card C 400 SP (+3 Shooting Accuracy for 5 minutes for one player) Speed Burst Card C 250 SP (+2 Speed for 3 minutes for one player)Iron Stamina Card C 450 SP (+3 Stamina for 5 minutes for one player) Leadership Command Card C 800 SP (All teammates perform better when following your lead) ... "(Shit... this is hard.)" I stared at the options. Do I buy a legendary shooting form? Or do I buff the whole team? Time was running out. I needed to decide. ... Lucas''s side Lucas sat on the bench, towel draped over his shoulders. Ethan hadn''t moved for 30 seconds. His eyes were locked on nothing. It was unsettling. "(This dude is straight-up staring into the void...)" Coonie nudged Lucas. "Yo, is he okay? He looks like he just entered a different dimension." Lucas smile. "Yeah. He''s probably thinking some strategies." Jeremy crossed his arms. "Well, it better be something good, ''cause we''re getting smoked out there." Ryan Taylor rubbed his temples. "For real. If we don''t get back in the game, we''re done." Lucas exhaled, looking at Ethan. "(C''mon, man... whatever you''re planning... make it count.)" .... [Ethan Pov] I gritted my teeth. "(No choice. I gotta do it.)" I moved fast. My SP was going to zero, but fuck it. .... [PURCHASE CONFIRMED!] ? Leadership Command Card C 800 SP ? Team Synergy Card C 500 SP SP Left: 0 System Notification ???? [LEADERSHIP COMMAND ACTIVATED!] All teammates now instinctively follow your plays and commands with higher efficiency.Improves teamwork and trust. ???? [TEAM SYNERGY CARD ACTIVATED!] All teammates'' attributes boosted by +2 for 10 minutes. ..... System Notification C Unexpected Reward ???? [CONGRATULATIONS! Since you have permanently increased multiple teammates'' attributes, you have earned +500 SP!] ..... I froze. "(Holy shit.)" That was unexpected. I quickly pulled up my system window, my fingers twitching. "(500 SP... What should I buy...?)" ..... I glanced around the locker room. My teammates were pumped up. Evan was stretching. Ryan was cracking his knuckles. But then My eyes landed on Lucas. He was sitting on the bench, towel draped over his shoulders, breathing heavily. His golden eyes were still sharp...still burning with determination...but I could see it. The exhaustion. The toll of Absolute Mimicry. His hands were shaking just slightly. He was running on fumes. "(Shit... If we''re gonna win this, I need him at full power.)" I looked back at my system window. "(Is there something that can instantly restore stamina? Like... a potion? Or a pill?)" ..... System Response C Stamina Recovery Items Available Stamina Pill (1) C 200 SP ???? Effect: Instantly restores stamina to full, as if completely refreshed. Stamina Bottle (30 capsules) C 2000 SP ???? Effect: 30 uses, each restoring stamina to full. Vitamin S (1 Bottle) C 1000 SP ???? Effect: Restores half of stamina when consumed. ..... I grinned. "(Oh, this is perfect.)" I scrolled down to the Stamina Pill and immediately purchased it. ???? [PURCHASE CONFIRMED! STAMINA PILL (1) ADDED TO INVENTORY.] ... I closed my system window, feeling satisfied. Lucas had no idea what was coming. He was about to owe me big time. To be continue Chapter 33 - 21: We are Vorpal! Chapter 33 - 21: We are Vorpal! Lucas wiped his face with the towel, still catching his breath. His entire body felt heavy. His lungs burned. His legs ached. He had pushed Absolute Mimicry way too far. "(Shit... I might not make it through the entire fourth quarter like this.)" Then Ethan walked up to Lucas, his expression unreadable. Lucas was still catching his breath, his body heavy, his muscles burning from exhaustion. Absolute Mimicry had pushed him past his limit. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, only to see Ethan standing in front of him...grinning like he had just won the lottery. Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Sup, Michael. What''s with that face?" Ethan''s grin widened. "Yo, Lucas." Lucas crossed his arms, confused. "hmmm?" Ethan reached into his pocketor at least, that''s what it looked like. Then, out of nowhere, a small, white pill appeared in his palm. "Take this." Lucas stared at it. "The hell is that?" Ethan smirked, tilting his head. "It''s a Stamina Pill. One pop and you''ll feel like new." Lucas blinked. "What?" Ethan kept his expression serious. "Like I said. A Stamina Pill." Lucas scoffed. "Are you trying to make me an idiot?" Ethan sighed, waving a hand toward him. "Look at yourself, dude." Lucas frowned. "You can barely move at this rate." Lucas knew Ethan was right. His legs were sluggish, his arms felt like lead, and his breathing was ragged. If he kept playing like this, he''d collapse before the game was over. But still Lucas narrowed his eyes at the pill. "This is crazy. There''s no way a pill can just restore stamina like that. That doesn''t even make sense." Ethan tilted his head, his smirk growing. "Oh? And you think this pill doesn''t make sense?" For a moment, Lucas wanted to argue. Then A memory flashed in his mind. An old man. A strange pill. And the unbelievable power he gained from it. Absolute Mimicry. Lucas''s heart pounded. "Wait a damn minute..." He grabbed the pill from Ethan''s hand, gripping it tightly. His throat felt dry. "Where did you get this?" Ethan''s smirk didn''t waver. "Some old man sold it to me." Lucas''s stomach dropped. He gulped. "(Could it be... the same old man?)" His fingers tightened around the pill as his mind raced. "(That old man gave me Absolute Mimicry... If Ethan got this from the same guy... does that mean... this pill is real?)" Lucas stared at Ethan. "Did you try this?" Ethan nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. Tried it once. Worked like a charm." Lucas''s grip on the pill loosened slightly. His instincts were screaming at him. His logic told him that this was too suspicious. But his bodyhis exhausted, drained, completely burnt-out body was desperate. Lucas sighed. He stared at Ethan, shaking his head. " If this doesn''t work, I swear I''m going to sue you." Ethan chuckled, hands in his pockets. "Fair enough. But if it does work... you owe me." Lucas groaned, then Popped the pill into his mouth. Swallowed. And then His entire body shocked awake. His lungs no longer burned. His muscles no longer ached. His legs felt light. His mind felt clear. His exhaustion? Gone. Lucas''s eyes widened in shock. "(No way...!)" He clenched and unclenched his fists. Tested his legs. He felt strong. Fast. Explosive. Like he had just stepped onto the court completely fresh. Lucas turned to Ethan, still processing what just happened. His body felt brand newno exhaustion, no fatigue. It was as if the last three quarters of non-stop basketball had never happened. He clenched his fists, testing the power in his grip. His legs felt light, ready to explode with speed. His breathing was steady, no longer ragged. This was unreal. Lucas''s golden eyes widened as he turned to Ethan, disbelief plastered all over his face. "What the hell did you give me?!" Ethan grinned, hands in his pockets, looking smug as ever. "Like I said, just a Stamina Pill." Lucas''s jaw went slack. His mouth hung open, stunned beyond words. Ethan raised an eyebrow, then smirked. "Your mouth can fit a whole pineapple at this rate." Lucas immediately snapped his mouth shut, scowling (embarrassed a little bit). "Shut it...." But the disbelief was still there, lingering in his expression. He stared at Ethan, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why did you give this to me?" Ethan''s smirk faded slightly, his expression growing more serious. He lifted a hand and tapped his chest with his index finger, right where his heart was. "Because I need you." Lucas blinked. Ethan''s voice was firm. No jokes. No sarcasm. Just the truth. Ethan then turned, glancing at their teammates. Ryan Taylor, still clenching his fists. Brandon Young, his expression determined. Evan Cooper, wiping sweat from his face, his gaze locked onto Ethan. Coonie, Jeremy, and Kaiwatching from the bench, holding their breath. Then, Ethan looked back at Lucas, his eyes sharper than ever. "And you need me. We both need each other." Lucas inhaled slowly, the words sinking deep. Ethan tilted his head toward their teammates. "They need us both." Lucas felt something stir inside him. A strange feeling. Not just motivation. Not just adrenaline. But something more. For the first timehe felt like he truly had a partner. A teammate he could trust. Someone who understood him. Lucas clenched his fists. His golden eyes burned with renewed determination. He looked at Ethan and nodded. "Yeah... they need us." Ethan''s smirk returned. He lifted his fist. "Now, shall we go and kick their ass?" Lucas grinned, his exhaustion completely forgotten. He lifted his own fist, bumping it against Ethan''s. "Yeah. Let''s kick their ass, partner." And just like that The final battle was about to begin. .... he timeout buzzer blared through the gym, signaling the end of the break. The court was waiting. The battle was about to resume. Lucas and Ethan stood side by side, eyes locked onto the Orlando Hoops players, who were already stepping back onto the court. Alec Storm, Mason Hayes, Julian Cross, Ethan Blake, Jaxon Wells The Elite Five. Each one a monster in their own right. But Ethan and Lucas? They weren''t backing down. They couldn''t back down. Ethan glanced at Lucas, who was rolling his shoulders, testing his fully recovered stamina. "You ready?" Lucas cracked his neck and smirked. "Better than ever." Ethan let out a short chuckle. "Good. Because we''re about to make history." Lucas grinned. "Absolutely." Coach Corson, standing at the Orlando Hoops bench, crossed his arms as he watched them with sharp eyes. "(They look different...)" he thought. "(That little breakdid they recover? No... this energy... it''s something else.)" Alec Storm bounced the ball once, his signature cocky smirk still there. But his eyes told a different story. He saw it too. Something had changed. "(Tsk. They''re fired up.)" Alec thought, narrowing his gaze. The energy had shifted. It was their turn to strike. ........ After seconds Brandon Young stepped up to take the inbound pass. He scanned the court. His eyes found Ethan. And without hesitationhe fired the pass straight into Ethan''s hands. Ethan caught the ball cleanly, immediately feeling the weight of Orlando''s defense crash down on him. Alec Storm. Right in his face. Ethan smirked. "Here we go." Alec''s stance was low, his footwork ready. Ethan exploded forward. Alec matched him instantly. The two raced up the court, step for step, neither giving an inch. Ethan crossed left. Alec mirrored. Ethan shifted right. Alec followed. Ethan hesitated for a split secondthen burst forward. "Tch!" Alec clicked his tongue as he barely managed to stay in front. But Ethan wasn''t done. Lucas cut in, setting a hard screen. Alec saw it too late. "Damn it!" Alec crashed into Lucas, momentarily losing his balance. Ethan used that moment to drive past him. Straight into the paint. Jaxon Wells stepped uphis towering presence blocking the path to the rim. Ethan didn''t slow down. He wasn''t stopping. He leaped Jaxon''s arms shot up Ethan adjusted mid-air And at the last second A behind-the-back pass. Straight to Lucas, who was cutting from the right. Lucas caught it. He had a clear shot. Without hesitation He rose. The crowd held its breath. The ball left his fingertips. Swish! Three-pointer. The gym erupted. Orlando Hoops C 87 Vorpal Basket C 73 Ethan landed, turning towards Lucas, who was already staring back at him. Lucas smirked. "Nice pass." Ethan grinned. "Nice shot." Alec, still catching his breath, gritted his teeth. "(Damn it... these guys...)" Coach Corson narrowed his eyes. The storm had changed direction. And now Vorpal Basket was coming. ...... The gym felt electric. Sweat. Adrenaline. Pressure. Ethan Albarado closed his eyes. Blocked out the noise. The roaring crowd. The echoing footsteps. The bouncing ball. And then ???? [LEADERSHIP COMMAND ACTIVATED!] All teammates now instinctively follow your plays and commands with higher efficiency. ? Improves teamwork and trust. ???? [TEAM SYNERGY CARD ACTIVATED!] All teammates'' attributes boosted by +2 for 10 minutes. Ethan exhaled. (With this... I can change the whole rhythm of the game.) When he opened his eyes Everything felt slower. Like time itself had adjusted to his mind. Across the court Alec Storm dribbled up, calling out loudly. "ISO OFFENSE!" His voice boomed through the gym. Ethan gritted his teeth. (I knew it. They''re running the 1-4 High Isolation.) It was one of the most dangerous offensive sets. Alec at the top, four teammates spacing the floorgiving him complete freedom to attack. The plan was obvious. Clear out. Let Alec work. Let him break his defender one-on-one. No screens. No distractions. Just a battle of skill versus skill. And Alec was elite at it. Ethan''s mind raced. (If we let him dictate the game, we lose.) But then A memory hit him. A different court. A different time. Back when he was Jonathan Brandit. Back when he was a former high school basketball genius. Back when he knew how to shut down elite scorers through analyzing and studying for years. Ethan''s eyes snapped open. He knew exactly what to do. He turned to his teammatesvoice sharp. "LUCAS! RYAN! SHRINK THE FLOOR!" Lucas and Ryan immediately adjusted, cutting off driving lanes. Alec''s eyes narrowed. "Tsk... they''re clogging the paint." He wasn''t used to this. Most teams backed off. They let him operate. But Vorpal? They were pressing him. Making the court smaller. "COOPER! SHADOW HIM!" Ethan yelled. Evan mirrored Alec''s every move, pressing up hard, forcing him toward his weaker hand. Alec felt the pressure immediately. He crossed left. Evan stayed glued. He hesitated. Lucas stunted at him, momentarily cutting off his vision. Alec''s grip on the ball tightened. "(Shit...)" The ISO wasn''t working. He glanced at Julian Cross on the wing. (Kick-out?) No. Ryan was already there. The rotation was too fast. The moment Alec stopped to read the defense Ethan exploded forward. A perfectly timed double-team. Alec''s heart dropped. He tried to pass But Ethan''s hand was already there. Tip. Loose ball. Ethan lunged. Alec dove. Bodies crashed. The ball bounced wildly Before Lucas snatched it mid-air. Fast break. Lucas took off. Jaxon Wells sprinted after him But Lucas was faster. He drove. Took one steptwo And kicked it back to Ethan. Ethan caught it at the three-point line. Wide open. (This is it.) He rose up. Fired. The ball spun perfectly SWISH. The net barely moved. The crowd ERUPTED. Alec lay on the floor, breathing heavily. He watched the scoreboard flash Orlando Hoops C 87 Vorpal Basket C 76 (They''re coming back... Fast.) Coach Corson''s fingers twitched. "(Tsk... Plan A failed...)" He clenched his jaw. "(Damn it...)" Because right now This wasn''t the same Vorpal Basket. This wasn''t the team they had been dominating all game. This team... Was playing like monsters. Ethan turned to his teammates, raising his fist. "WE ARE VORPAL!" The gym shook with cheers. Because for the first time Orlando Hoops felt the pressure. To be continue Chapter 34 - 22: Lucas The Copy Cat Chapter 34 - 22: Lucas The Copy Cat 6:00 C 4th Quarter Orlando Hoops C 87 Vorpal Basket C 76 The air was tense. The gym roared with noise, but to Alec Stormeverything was silent. All he could hear was the pounding of the ball against the hardwood. Dribble. Dribble. Dribble. He glanced at the scoreboard. "Tsk." His tongue clicked in frustration. Vorpal was closing in. They had momentum. And standing in front of him, crouched low in a defensive stance Was Lucas Graves. Alec''s eyes narrowed. (This damn copycat again.) He had faced many defenders. Strong ones. Quick ones. Tall ones. But Lucas? Lucas was different. He didn''t just defend. He stole your moves. Your rhythm. Your skills. Alec bounced the ball harder, locking eyes with Lucas. Then, his gaze flickered to the side. Across the court, he saw Ethan Albarado. Standing there. Observing. Not just watchinganalyzing. Alec''s brow furrowed. (That bastard... he''s the one behind all this.) This defense. This pressure. This suffocating feeling. It wasn''t an accident. It was a trap. Alec took a slow breath and grinned. "Even if you''re a copycat..." He switched to his right hand, flicking the ball between his legs "You still can''t beat me!" Lucas'' eyes sharpened. Alec exploded forward. The battle had begun. Alec Storm dribbled the ball at the top of the key. The crowd buzzed with excitement. Lucas Graves stood in front of him, crouched low, arms wide, yellow eyes locked onto the ball. Alec''s grin widened. (Let''s see if you can copy this, "Mimic.") He jab-stepped left, shifting his weight aggressivelythen snapped the ball to his right with a quick crossover. Lucas reacted instantly, sliding his feet to cut off Alec''s drive But it was a feint. Alec planted his right foot and slammed the ball back between his legs, shifting direction effortlessly. Lucas didn''t bite. He stayed on Alec''s hip, reading his movements. Alec''s grin faltered. (Tch. He''s learning too fast.) Alec suddenly whipped the ball behind his back, switching hands to break free But Lucas mirrored him perfectly. Alec''s eyes widened in shock. (He copied my rhythm?!) Lucas'' footwork matched Alec''s, and before Alec could break away, Lucas reached in Alec spun. A full 360-degree spin move, keeping his body between Lucas and the ball. Lucas lunged...but Alec was already gone. The spin sent him forward, straight into the paint. Big mistake. Ethan Albarado was waiting. Alec saw him too late. Ethan read the play perfectly. The moment Alec drove in, Ethan''s body was already in motion. Alec jumped, ready to finish Ethan rose with him. Alec twisted in midair, hanging for a split second...then whipped the ball back out with an overhead pass. The ball sailed over Ethan''s fingertips and landed in his teammate''s hands. Wide open three. Swish. The net barely moved as the ball splashed through. 90 C 76. Alec landed, staring down Lucas and Ethan. Lucas clenched his fists. Ethan''s eyes darkened. The battle wasn''t over. ... 6:00 Orlando Hoops C 90 Vorpal Basket C 76 Brandon inbounded the ball with a crisp chest pass. Lucas caught it smoothly, fingers gripping the leather as he scanned the court. His gaze flicked to Evan. Evan gave a small nod. Lucas nodded back. Then, he took off. Alec was already in front of him, smirking. "What now, copycat?" Lucas didn''t answer. Instead, he let his dribble do the talking. Once. Twice. Thenhe exploded forward. Alec''s smirk disappeared as Lucas launched past him with a quick first step. Alec shifted back, reacting fast But Lucas was already switching it up. Crossover. The ball snapped from his right hand to his left. Alec adjusted, mirroring him But it was a fake. (In & Out move.) The ball never left Lucas''s left hand. Alec bit on the fake, lunging right. Too late. Lucas was already sliding left, momentum carrying him past Alec. (Damn it! He''s not just copyinghe''s improving it!) Alec scrambled to recover, but Lucas was completely in control. Between the legs. Alec stayed close But Lucas immediately went behind the back. Alec reacted...too slow. Then...a spin move. Not just any spin move. Alec''s spin move. Alec''s eyes widened. (No wayhe copied it perfectly?!) Lucas slipped past him into the paint. A defender rushed up, arms raised to contest. Lucas barely hesitated A sharp chest pass. The ball rocketed to the elbowstraight into Ethan''s hands. One dribble. Pull-up jumper. Splash. 90 C 78. Lucas turned back to Alec, his yellow eyes flashing with confidence. A smirk crept onto his lips. "Not bad, huh?" Alec clenched his jaw. ....... Ethan side] Ethan watched Lucas and Alec face off, his arms crossed as he observed the intense back-and-forth. His mind raced. "(Oho... This is new. In Turning Point, Lucas and Alec never went one-on-one like this. They barely even clashed directly. But now... this? This is all because of me.)" He smirked slightly. "(I was the one who forced Lucas to guard Alec. In the novel, Lucas exhausted himself in the fourth quarter, and that''s why they lost by fifteen points. That loss was his turning pointhe vowed to never be defeated again.)" Ethan''s fingers tapped against his arm. "(But even if I''ve changed things... Lucas will still become stronger. He has to. And, wellhe''s the protagonist of this world. A protagonist will always grow stronger, no matter what.)" His blue eyes gleamed. "(And if I can push him even further... we might just win this game.)" ... Alec gripped the ball tightly as he walked up the court. His usual smirk was gone. Lucas was still in front of him, staring him down. Alec exhaled sharply. (Tch. This bastard... He''s actually keeping up with me.) He dribbled. Once. Twice. Then...he struck. Crossover. Lucas reacted immediately, shifting his stance Between the legs. Lucas stayed in front, his eyes reading Alec''s every movement. Alec''s frustration flared. (Damn it. He''s mirroring me too well.) But he wasn''t done yet. Behind the back. Lucas followed...perfectly. Alec scowled. He hated to admit it, but Lucas wasn''t just copying. He was adapting. (Fine, let''s see if you can handle this.) Alec took a hard step forward, planting his foot. Thenhe spun. Lucas anticipated it. He shifted his weight, about to mirror Alec''s move again But it was a fake. Alec stopped mid-spin, shifting back the other way. Lucas'' eyes widened...(Shit!) Alec blew past him. One steptwo stepsinto the paint. The defense collapsed. Alec grinned. (Gotcha.) Bounce pass! The ball zipped through the gap, landing perfectly in his teammate''s hands. Layup. Swish. 92 C 78. Alec turned back to Lucas, smirking. "You''re good, but I''m better." Lucas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His yellow eyes burned with determination. (So he still has tricks up his sleeve, huh? Then I''ll just have to mimic and improve those, too.) ... The ball left Ethan''s hands in a clean inbound pass to Evan. As Evan caught it, his gaze swept across the court, analyzing the situation. But it didn''t take long to realize what was happening. Lucas and Alec...locked in an intense one-on-one. Evan furrowed his brows. "What should we do? Looks like Lucas and Alec are just straight-up going at it." Ethan, however, didn''t even glance at him. His eyes were glued to the two players in front of him, his expression calm almost amused. "Let them be..." Evan hesitated. Normally, letting two players go all-out in a game like this would be reckless, but Ethan said it with such certainty, as if he already knew how it would play out. Ethan''s gaze sharpened as he watched Lucas. (In the end, Lucas will beat him.) It wasn''t just blind faith....it was a fact. Ethan knew the truth about this world. About Lucas. About the novel, Turning Point. In the original story, Lucas had exhausted himself in the fourth quarter, unable to keep up against Alec''s relentless offense. The game had ended in a 15-point loss. That loss had become Lucas''s fuel, the very thing that pushed him to become strongerto never taste defeat again. But things were different now. Ethan had changed the script. (Lucas will still become stronger... but this time, he''ll win. Because I''ll make sure of it. That Pill, That stamina pill will be his turning point) Well... Lucas wasn''t just any player. He had Absolute Mimicry... the ability to copy and improve any move he saw. But it wasn''t just his ability that made him dangerous. It was his mentality. Ethan''s smirk widened slightly. (His mental toughness is like Kobe''snever give up, never surrender. He loves basketball more than anyone, and that''s why he''ll win.) Lucas had the heart of a champion. And no matter what, a protagonist always finds a way. Ethan crossed his arms and exhaled, a glint of excitement in his eyes. (I''m sure of it.) ....... "Pass it to Lucas," Ethan said, his voice steady, his eyes sharp. Evan hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He whipped a crisp pass toward Lucas, who caught it effortlessly. The ball barely settled in his hands before he was moving. Lucas dribbled up the court, his focus locked onto Alec like a predator eyeing its prey. The ball bounced rhythmically against the hardwood, but his mind was already five steps ahead, mapping every possible scenario before it unfolded. Alec crouched low, his muscles coiled like a spring. His eyes burned with challenge. "You think you can copy it?" he taunted, his voice laced with confidence. Lucas didn''t respond. Insteadhe hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second. It was barely noticeable. A subtle shift forward, a slight freeze in motion. But Alec noticed. And Alec reacted. His muscles tensed, his balance slightly thrown off. Hesitation Dribble. Lucas''s body leaned forward ever so slightly, making it seem like he was about to explode past Alec. It was just a small pausejust enough to make Alec second-guess his footing. And in that tiny window of hesitation...Lucas struck. He exploded forward, accelerating past Alec in an instant, like a bullet fired from a gun. Alec cursed under his breath, pivoting to recover, but Lucas was already in the paint. The defense collapsed. A help defender rushed forward, trying to cut off Lucas''s drive. The paint was too crowded. The shot wasn''t there. Lucas didn''t panic. He didn''t need to. No-Look Pass. Without even glancing, Lucas flicked the ball behind his back. The motion was smooth, almost effortless. The ball sailed straight toward the perimeter, right into Ethan''s hands. It was clean. It was fast. It was almost perfect. But not quite. Ethan caught it easily, his sharp blue eyes analyzing the pass in an instant. (He copied me, huh? But... something''s missing.) The pass had all the right mechanics. The movement, the timingit was nearly identical to Ethan''s own No-Look Pass. But that was the problem. It was just a copy. What Ethan had wasn''t just a flashy move, it was precision. His system-enhanced skills made his passes razor-sharp, always hitting the perfect spot at the perfect time. A pass that not only reached his teammate but gave them the best advantage to score. Lucas''s pass was good. But Ethan''s pass was unstoppable. Ethan grinned. Without wasting a second, he took a single step forward, pulled up, and released a smooth jumper. Splash. The ball swished through the net without even grazing the rim. 92 C 80. The crowd roared. Lucas turned toward Ethan, his yellow eyes narrowing slightly. He could feel it...something was off. His No-Look Pass was clean. It was accurate. But it wasn''t as good. His Absolute Mimicry allowed him to copy any technique perfectly. Yet, he couldn''t surpass it. Ethan simply grinned at him. "Not bad, but you still got a ways to go." Lucas clenched his jaw. He knew he could refine what he copied. He could improve it, tweak it, make it his own. But... (I can''t surpass him?) For the first time, Lucas felt it. Even though he could copy Ethan''s moves, Ethan had something that couldn''t be imitated. Something beyond Absolute Mimicry. To be continue Chapter 35 - 23: The genius Chapter 35 - 23: The genius [Scoreboard Update:] 4:40 minutes left Orlando Hoops C 96 Vorpal Basket C 87 Jaxon Wells stood at the baseline, gripping the ball firmly. He scanned the court quickly before making a sharp inbound pass to Alec. Alec caught it, his movements fluid as he started dribbling up the court. He didn''t hesitatehe knew who was waiting for him. Lucas. Standing firm, eyes locked onto Alec, Lucas was in full defensive stance. His yellow eyes burned with intensity, reading Alec''s every move. (Tsk.) Alec clicked his tongue in frustration. He wasn''t in the mood to deal with Lucas''s suffocating defense again. Without a second thought, he swung the ball toward Mason Hayes, who was positioned near the wing. Mason caught it smoothly. The moment the ball landed in his hands, Evan Cooper was already in front of him, low and ready. Mason didn''t waste time. He immediately executed a quick crossover, shifting the ball from right to left in an attempt to shake Evan. But Evan was locked in. His footwork was sharp, his stance solid. He didn''t fall for the move. Mason''s eyes narrowed. (He''s improving.) He could feel itEvan was reacting quicker than before, reading his movements with more precision. This wasn''t the same defender he had been dealing with earlier. A few feet away, Ethan Albarado was locked in a one-on-one battle with Ethan Blake. The two Ethan''s mirrored each other, every movement calculated. But Ethan Albarado wasn''t focused on just his matchup. He was watching. Analyzing. His sharp gaze followed Mason''s movements. He saw the crossover, saw Evan keeping up. A small smirk crept onto his lips. (He probably thinks he''s improving.) Ethan''s eyes flickered toward Evan. (Well, of course, he''s improving.) Ethan knew the reason. His cards. His skills. [LEADERSHIP COMMAND ACTIVE.] [TEAM SYNERGY CARD ACTIVE.] Even if the boosts weren''t massive, a boost was a boost. And in a high-level game like this, every advantage mattered. Meanwhile, Julian Watson had possession of the ball, and Ryan Taylor was the one assigned to guard him. Julian was crafty, unpredictable with his movements. He dribbled with a smooth rhythm, his head up, constantly looking for gaps. But Ryan wasn''t backing down. He kept his stance strong, moving laterally with Julian''s every step. The battle continued. And Ethan? He was watching everything. Because in the end, this wasn''t just about physical skill. This was a game of minds. ..... Ethan''s eyes scanned the court like a predator analyzing its prey. His mind was sharp, calculating every movement, every weakness in the Orlando Hoops'' setup. His focus shifted toward the paint. Inside, Jaxon Wells and Brandon Young were battling for position. Meanwhile, Ryan Taylor''s attention flickered toward Alec, who was being locked down by Lucas. Ryan''s expression hardened. (That number 10... Graves. Tsk.) Lucas''s relentless defense was frustrating even their best scorer. Ryan knew Alec wanted the ball, but passing it now was too risky. He turned back and made a quick pass to Mason instead. The moment the ball left Ryan''s fingertips. Ethan moved. Like a shadow slipping past its counterpart, Ethan broke away from Ethan Blake. Blake''s eyes widened. "Shit!" Too late. Ethan read the pass perfectly. He lunged forward, fingertips barely grazing the ball before tipping it away. The loose ball bounced toward Lucas. Lucas caught it cleanly. Alec''s reaction was instanthe sprinted after Lucas, determined not to let him get away. But the moment Lucas gained possession "FAST BREAK!!!" Ethan''s voice roared through the court. And just like thatVorpal Basket exploded forward. The moment Ethan''s voice rang through the court, Vorpal Basket ignited. Lucas pushed the ball forward, his yellow eyes locked onto the path ahead. Alec was on him immediately, his speed matching Lucas stride for stride. (He''s not letting me go easy.) Lucas didn''t panic. He controlled his dribble, keeping Alec at his hip as they charged toward the basket. Behind him, Ethan sprinted, reading the court in an instant. Jaxon Wells was trailing behind, trying to catch up. Mason and Ryan were also retreating, but Vorpal had numbers. A 3-on-2 advantage. Lucas had options. Alec was sticking to him like glue, trying to force him into a bad decision. Mason was stepping up to cut off his drive. Lucas smirked. Crossover. Lucas shifted the ball from his right to left hand, forcing Alec to react. Thena quick Behind the Back dribble! Alec lunged right but Lucas was already gone, shifting left. (Too slow!) Lucas dashed into the paint. Mason stepped in front. Lucas faked a layup...then whipped a no-look bounce pass to Ethan! Ethan caught it at full speed, just outside the key. One dribble. Ethan saw Jaxon Wells rotating to contest the shot. But Ethan wasn''t stopping. He took one step... elevated Pump Fake! Jaxon bit. He jumped. Ethan smirked. (Gotcha.) He shifted mid-air, adjusting his release One-hand floater. The ball arced high...over Jaxon''s outstretched fingers Swish! The crowd erupted. 96 C 89. Lucas jogged back, grinning. "Nice finish." Ethan chuckled. "You set me up too well." Alec gritted his teeth. They were closing the gap. And fast. .... BEEP! The sharp sound of the whistle cut through the tension in the gym. Timeout C Orlando Hoops. Coach Corson rubbed his chin, his sharp eyes scanning the court. His team had the lead, but momentum was slipping. Fast. His mind ran through every defensive scheme possibleFull-court press? Man-to-man lockdown? Zone traps? None of them would work. Because of him. Number 20. Ethan Albarado. Corson exhaled through his nose. He knew Coach Fred, the so-called head coach of Vorpal Basket, was useless. That guy couldn''t strategize his way out of a paper bag. No. The one dictating the game? That was the kid. Yellow hair. Blue eyes. Number 20. Ethan Albarado was running the show. Corson turned his gaze to the team''s managerRhiana. A teenage girl with sharp brown eyes, long dark hair, and a confident posture. She wasn''t just any managershe was meticulous. Corson had assigned her one task before this game. "Did you do what I asked?" Rhiana nodded, flipping through her tablet. "Yes, Coach. I looked into Ethan Albarado like you requested." Corson leaned forward. "And? Anything special?" Rhiana hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "Not exactly. But... his background is interesting." She scrolled down on her screen and continued. "His father, Alfred Albarado, is a former basketball champion. He won multiple titles back in his prime. Now, he works as a sports analyst for BACBasketball Asian Company." Corson''s brows twitched. A former pro? That explained some things. "And his mother?" "Elle Albarado. A kindergarten teacher." Corson frowned. A pro-athlete father and a schoolteacher mother? Then it clicked. "Tsk... so that''s it." Rhiana looked up. "Coach?" Corson exhaled. "His father was a championhe inherited his basketball IQ from him. His mother''s a teacherso he knows how to communicate and guide his team. That kid..." He crossed his arms. "...he''s the real deal." ... Meanwhile Alec side Alec wiped the sweat from his forehead, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He glanced at his teammates, then at Coach Corson, who stood deep in thought, arms crossed. Then his eyes landed on her. Rhiana. She was watching. Alec felt his stomach tighten. It wasn''t that he was afraid of losing. No, he wasn''t the type to get scared over a game. But this was different. Rhiana wasn''t just some spectator. She was his girlfriend. And she had been analyzing the match, breaking it down, dissecting every move, just like she always did. For a moment, a nervous thought crept into his mind. (Is she disappointed in me?) He clenched his fists, looking away. He hated feeling like thislike he wasn''t good enough. But thena soft smile. Rhiana''s lips curved up, her brown eyes filled with warmth. She wasn''t disappointed. Not even close. If anything, she looked... proud. She gave him a small nodher way of saying, "I believe in you." Alec''s heart pounded. (Damn it... Now I really can''t lose.) She wasn''t just watching. She was supporting him. And if she was backing him up, then there was no way in hell he was going to let Ethan Albarado walk all over him. Not now. Not ever. ... On the bench, as the players huddled together during the timeout, many audience look at them but one figure stood apart from the rest. Noah Davies, a teenager with a sharp gaze, had his eyes locked onto the court. His focus was unshakable, despite the noise of the cheering fans around him. Noah wasn''t just any ordinary spectator...he was the manager for the Chicago Raptors, a highly-regarded basketball team that was scouting players, keeping tabs on talent, and making their moves in the background. Though he was young, only a middle school student, his understanding of the game was beyond his years. He was already known among scouts for his deep analysis of player strategies and his ability to see what others often missed. Today, though, his eyes were trained on the Vorpal Basket team. As he watched Ethan Albarado sit on the sideline, drinking water during the timeout, Noah couldn''t help but mutter under his breath. "This guy..." he said, shaking his head in awe, "his strategy is unique. The way he orders themthere''s something else to it." Noah wasn''t the type to be easily impressed, but this game was different. The way Ethan handled the team, his decisions, his ability to shift the flow of the gameit was as if he was playing chess while everyone else was stuck on checkers. The Chicago Raptors were no strangers to smart tactics, but Ethan''s ability to adjust mid-game and manipulate the pace was something else entirely. Ethan was a tactician, not just a player. He could read the court like a battlefield and always knew where to strike. His mind then shifted to the player Lucas Graves, who had the ball in his hands just moments ago. Noah''s eyes narrowed as he watched Lucas on the court. "And this guy..." he said, impressed, "he can mimic the players. He''s a walking chameleon. He copies Orlando''s best...Alec Storm, their ace, their leader perfectly. Every move, every step." He was amazed by Lucas''s ability. The way he copied Orlando''s star player made him seem like a monster on the court. Lucas wasn''t just playinghe was learning in real-time, evolving, adapting. To Noah, it was almost like watching a prodigy in action. Then his thoughts shifted again, this time to Alec Storm. "Alec Storm..." Noah whispered to himself. "He''s their ace. But he''s up against something more than just a strong opponent. This man, Graves number 10, he''s no ordinary copycat. He''s an adaptive force." But Noah''s mind wasn''t done. His gaze drifted to Ethan, sitting quietly, his presence still commanding the sideline. There was something in the way Ethan sat that spoke volumes. "...But Albarado..." Noah continued, eyes locked on the young tactician, "this guy... he''s a general on the court." Noah felt it. He couldn''t hear what Ethan was telling his team, but he could see it in their eyes. The trust in Ethan''s leadership. The way the players responded to his commands without hesitation. They weren''t just following instructions,they were following a leader. "The way he orchestrates his team, how he moves the pieces on the court..." Noah said thoughtfully. "This guy is a genius." Noah''s eyes flitted back to Ethan, his respect growing with each passing second. It wasn''t just about the game for Ethan, he was playing on a higher level. He could read the court, read his opponents, and create situations where his team was always one step ahead. That wasn''t just skillit was pure genius "If we ever face them," Noah thought, his mind racing, "it''s not Number 10 I''m worried about...it''s Number 20. He''s the one we need to watch out for." Ethan Albarado, with his deep understanding of the game, wasn''t just a player. He was a mastermind, and that made him dangerous. Noah could already tell that Ethan wasn''t just someone you''d outplay. He was someone who would outthink you. And as the game continued, Noah knew one thing for sure: the Vorpal Basket team, led by Ethan, was no ordinary team. They were a force to be reckoned with. To be continue Chapter 36: Side - : Ethan Little Memories Chapter 36 - Side Chapter: Ethan Little Memories Before Ethan Albarado regained the memories of his past life as Jonathan Brandit, before he knew about fate, about the novel world he now lived in, he was just a kid who loved basketball, a kid who played with his family on weekends, laughing, running, and enjoying the game that bonded them all together. It was a warm Sunday afternoon. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the driveway of the Albarado family home. A basketball hoop was mounted above the garage, slightly worn out from years of use. The sound of sneakers squeaking on the pavement, the rhythmic bounce of the ball, and the occasional laughter filled the air. "Alright, who''s ready to lose?" Alfred Albarado, Ethan''s father, spun the ball on his finger, a confident smirk on his face. He was a former champion basketball player, a man whose skill on the court was undeniable. Even after retiring, he never lost his touch. Ethan, 10 years old, grinned up at him, holding his own basketball tightly. His eyes sparkled with determination. "No way, Dad! Today''s the day I finally beat you!" "Oh?" Elle Albarado, Ethan''s mother, chuckled from the sidelines as she stretched. "You boys always talk big, but don''t count me out yet." Anna, Ethan''s little sister, clapped her hands excitedly. "Go, Ethan! Beat Dad!" The family set up teamsEthan and Anna versus their parents. It was a friendly match, something they often did to keep the love for basketball alive in their home. As the game started, Ethan''s heart pounded with excitement. He dribbled the ball, his father guarding him closely. Alfred was bigger, stronger, and more experienced, but Ethan wasn''t afraid. He amateur fake left, then quickly shifted right, trying to drive to the hoop. But Smack! His father blocked his path effortlessly, laughing. "Too slow, kiddo!" "Ugh!" Ethan pouted but didn''t back down. "Just you wait!" Anna giggled from the corner. "Pass it to me, Ethan!" With an amateur motion, Ethan flicked the ball to Anna. She caught it and threw up a shot Swish! "Nice one, Anna!" Elle cheered, giving her daughter a high-five. Ethan turned to his dad with a determined expression. "I''m not losing this time, Dad." Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then show me what you''ve got." The game continued. Ethan was fast, eager, and full of energy, but no matter how hard he tried, his father was always one step ahead. Alfred blocked his shots, stole the ball with ease, and moved like a seasoned professional. Ethan was frustrated. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn''t win. At one point, after missing another layup, Ethan stopped, panting. His small hands clenched into fists. "Why can''t I beat you?" he muttered. Alfred, seeing his son''s frustration, knelt down beside him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Ethan," his father said gently, "it''s not about winning or losing. It''s about loving the game." Ethan looked up, confused. "But I want to win." Alfred smiled. "Then you keep playing. Keep improving. You think I got this good overnight? No way. I practiced every day, I failed hundreds of times, and I learned from every mistake." Ethan stared at his father, listening intently. "You don''t get stronger by winning all the time," Alfred continued. "You get stronger by losing and learning. So don''t be frustrated. Enjoy it. The game will always teach you something if you''re willing to listen." Ethan''s hands slowly unclenched. He looked at the basketball in his hands, then at his father. "Keep playing, son," Alfred said, ruffling Ethan''s hair. "One day, you''ll be strong enough to beat me fair and square." Ethan took a deep breath, then nodded. His determination burned brighter than before. "Okay," he said. "Let''s keep playing." The game resumed, and though Ethan still couldn''t beat his father, he played with a smile on his face because, deep down, he realized something. He didn''t love basketball because he wanted to win. He loved basketball because it made him feel alive. And that feeling... never left him. Not even when he remembered his past life. Chapter 37 - 24: Alec Awakening Chapter 37 - 24: Alec Awakening 3:00 minutes left on the clock Scoreboard: Orlando Hoops C 99 Vorpal Basket C 92 (This guy... this damn guy...) (He thinks he can beat me?) (He''s not supposed to be here. He''s not supposed to make me feel like this.) His jaw tightened as that calm look on Lucas''s facefocused, unreadableburned into his skull like a curse. He snapped the ball to the ground. Thud. (I refuse) Thud. (I refuse to lose to him.) Thenhe moved. Fast. Precise. Dangerous. Alec spun tightly, his feet moving smoothly across the court, the ball completely under control. He slipped past Lucas like he was gliding through chaos. Lucas shadowed him step for step. But Alec was just getting started. Shamgod. He pulled a Shamgoda slick move where he faked a pass with one hand, luring Lucas in. The crowd gasped. Lucas flinched, falling for the bait. Alec''s fingers twitched, ready to pull the ball back SWIPE. A blue-and-yellow blur crashed into the scene. "This fucker!" Alec shouted as the ball vanished from his fingertips. Ethan Albarado. Number 20. The kid with a mind like a battlefield general. He didn''t even glance at Aleche was already sprinting full-speed down the court, the stolen ball bouncing rhythmically in front of him. The momentum flipped instantly. Alec froze for a moment. His hands were tight fists. His jaw was locked. He''d just been cleanly robbed of the ball. "That shit read my whole move like a book," Alec thought bitterly. Meanwhile, Lucas watched it unfold from the side, wide-eyed. Ethan''s body leaned forward as he sprinted, completely dialed in. There was no celebration. No words. Just action. A play like that wasn''t luck, it was studied, planned, executed. On the bench, Coach Corson stood with his arms crossed, eyebrows twitching. His eyes narrowed on Ethan like he was solving a puzzle mid-game. "He didn''t even fall for the Shamgod..." the coach muttered under his breath. "He''s too damn smart." Back on the court, Ethan reached half-court. Lucas was trailing slightly behind him, reading the floor just like Ethan was. Ethan glanced over his shoulder, seeing Lucas right behind him. No words were exchanged, but Lucas gave him a sharp nod. Ethan smirked. Without slowing down, Ethan passed the ball cleanly to Lucas, leading him into the lane. Lucas caught it in stride and immediately turned on the jets. He attacked the paint, eyes locked on the rim. The defenders scrambled to recover, but he was already inside their heads, already five moves ahead. Alec saw it and bolted into position, planting himself between Lucas and the basket. "Not on my watch!" Alec shouted, arms spreading wide, muscles coiled like a spring. Lucas didn''t flinch. In one fluid motion, his left hand extended the ball far out, then whipped it back in with his right, exactly the way Alec had just done moments ago. Shamgod Dribble. Perfectly executed. Alec''s eyes widened. "What!!" It was his own move. Done with surgical precision. Lucas didn''t even look at Alec as he blew right past him, using the split-second hesitation to glide into the lane. Alec spun around too late, stumbling slightly. "He used that move... and it was clean... sharper than mine?" Alec''s mind reeled, frustration boiling in his chest. He watched... helplessly... as his own movethe Shamgodwas used against him. And it was perfect. Smoother. Sharper. Cleaner. Lucas elevated, both feet leaving the floor. He didn''t go for a dunk. No. He floated in the air with calm control, pulling up for a smooth, clean mid-range jumper off the glass. Swish. The ball kissed the backboard and dropped in. 99 C 94. The gym erupted. Lucas landed gently on the court after his smooth move and finish. His breathing was calm. His face showed no emotion, calm and in control but for a brief second, his golden eyes looked at Alec. Across the court, Alec Storm stood frozen. He stood in place, stunned. (I... lost control? I... froze?) His jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists. (No... no no no no... impossible... I''m the prodigy... I''m the talent!) Alec''s heartbeat pounded in his ears, louder than anything else. He didn''t hear the crowd. He didn''t see his teammates. All he saw was Lucascalm, focused, and unstoppable. For the first time... Alec felt small. From the sidelines, Rhiana saw it. The way Alec''s shoulders sagged slightly. The crack in his confidence. Without hesitation, she stepped forward. And slapped him. Hard. The gym fell completely silent. Even the players stopped mid-movement. Alec slowly turned his head, one hand on his cheek, completely stunned. His eyes locked with Rhiana''s. She didn''t flinch. Her gaze was fierce. "You are Alec Storm." He blinked, unsure of what she meant. "...What?" "I said, you are Alec Storm." Her voice was steady, unwavering. "The guy who fights back. The guy who doesn''t fold under pressure. The guy who loves this game more than anyone. Where is that Alec?" The words hit him like a jolt of electricity. His breath caught. And then it all came back. The hours in the gym. The countless drills. The dreams, the wins, the losses. The hunger. The passion. The love for basketball not for fame, but for the game. He remembered. He was Alec Storm. Alec Storm wasn''t afraid to lose. Alec Storm wasn''t afraid to grow. Alec Storm was born to rise. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he didn''t let them fall. He raised both hands. SLAP. Left cheek. SLAP. Right cheek. Harder. Wake up. "You''re right." His voice crackedbut the fire was back. He grinned wide, wild and alive. "I''m Alec Storm." Rhiana exhaled and smiled, arms crossed. "That''s my man." Alec turned toward her and returned the smile genuine and strong. The gym stayed quiet for a beat longer, as everyone watched the scene unfold like a drama ripped straight from a movie. And then thunderous applause. Even the opposing fans clapped. Because everyone could feel it. Alec Storm was back. ... From the sidelines, Ethan Albarado standing with a towel around his neck, water bottle in hand. His chest rose and fell steadily, but his eyes weren''t on the scoreboard. They were locked on Alec. He had seen the slap. He had seen the fire return to Alec''s eyes. He felt it in his gut. Something had shifted. He narrowed his eyes slightly and whispered under his breath, "System, check Alec Storm''s status." The familiar glow of the system interface flickered in his mind. .... Alec Storm (Point Guard) Level: Elite Core Attributes: [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 12 Layup Skill: 12 Dunk Skill: 8 Dribbling Skill: 15 Passing Skill: 15 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 12 Blocking Ability: 8 Steal Skill: 12 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 14 Endurance: 14 Speed: 15 Effectiveness: Elite Playmaker: Exceptional court vision and precision passing.Game Control: Known for controlling the tempo and making game-changing decisions. Awakened Effectiveness: Thunder Veins: When the game enters clutch time, Alec''s blood runs with lightning. His precision, speed, and stamina surge beyond their limits, as if the storm within him awakens fully. ... Ethan''s eyes widened slightly. (Shit... not good. He''s awakened. Stronger than before... and faster, sharperlike a damn storm''s brewing.) A gust of excitement mixed with tension passed through the gym. The timeout buzzer echoed. Players moved back onto the court. Alec clapped his hands once sharp and full of energy. His eyes burned like electricity had cracked inside them. No hesitation. No fear. He turned to his team, voice ringing with determination. "Let''s do this, everyone!!" Mason clenched his fist. Jaxon grinned. Julian pounded his chest once. Even the bench players stood and shouted in unison. This wasn''t just any comeback. This was Alec Storm, awakened and reborn in the final minutes of war. ... From the Vorpal side, Ethan readying up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked toward the storm brewing on the other side of the court. (Bring it, Storm. Let''s see whose will is stronger.) The game wasn''t over. It was just about to begin. ... He looked toward the storm brewing on the other side of the court. (Bring it, Storm. Let''s see whose will is stronger.) The game wasn''t over. It was just about to begin. ... The ball was in Alec Storm''s hands. He stood at the top of the key, his body slightly crouched, eyes locked on his defender Lucas Graves. Lucas matched his gaze, intense and unblinking. The gym fell silent for a split second. A battle of prodigies was about to erupt. Alec smirked and spoke, voice calm... but laced with fire. "Nice game." Lucas blinked. "What?" Too late. Alec''s foot exploded into the hardwood he launched forward, his dribble accelerating with a blistering rhythm. Thump. Thump-thump. THUMP. Faster than Lucas had seen all game. "What the!?" Lucas gasped, shifting his stance to react. But Alec wasn''t done. He suddenly leaned as if going behind the back, a fake. Lucas flinched to his right, trying to read the movement but Alec never went behind the back. It was a feint. A split-second illusion. Lucas''s foot dragged slightly. Just enough. (He''s moving... so quick!) Alec''s body twisted mid-motion. He pivoted hard off his left foot and snapped his arm forward with all his momentum, launching the ball in a whipping motion like a thunderbolt tearing through the sky. A Baseball Pass. But not just any pass. It was raw. Explosive. Alec''s signature storm-style pass curved with spin, like a strike from a pitcher possessed. The ball screamed through the air, slicing past defenders with speed so intense that wind followed its path. "Like a damn storm..." someone in the crowd whispered. The ball landed directly into Mason Hayes'' hands underneath the basket. No bounce. No arc. Just pure velocity and pinpoint aim. Mason didn''t hesitate. He jumped laid it in. Swish. The net danced as the scoreboard ticked: Orlando Hoops C 101 Vorpal Basket C 94 2:37 remaining. Lucas turned his head slightly, his yellow eyes locked on Alec. Alec simply smiled back, eyes narrowed with challenge. "You''re not the only one who can break limits." Lucas gritted his teeth, but inside, something sparked, not anger. Excitement. Because now... the storm was here. And Vorpal had to rise or be swallowed whole. To be continue Chapter 38 - 25: Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 38 - 25: Smoke and Mirrors Score: Orlando Hoops C 101 Vorpal Basket C 94 Time Left: 2:30 The gym was loud, but inside Evan Cooper''s mind, everything was quiet. He looked around at his teammatesAlec Storm, the elite, and Lucas Graves, the mimic prodigy. Everyone was shining... everyone, except him. He clenched his fists. (I''m here too... I AM... EVAN!) He screamed those words in his heart. On the bench, Ethan Albarado watched him with calm, serious eyes. A small knowing smile played at his lips. (You''re feeling it, aren''t you? That frustration. That pressure. You want to matter. You want to be seen. I know... because I''ve felt it too.) Then "PASS!" Evan shouted out, his voice sharp and clear. Lucas turned his head, surprised. Even Alec glanced at Evan, slightly stunned. Without hesitation, Lucas passed him the ball. It zipped through the air like a bullet. Thud! Evan caught it cleanly, and in one quick motion, he began dribbling up the court. Mason Hayes stepped forward to guard him. He was one of Orlando''s sharp defenders, fast and aggressive. But Evan wasn''t backing down. (I''m the captain of this team... I lead this team... Don''t underestimate me, punk.) He dribbled left, then right faking Mason out. Suddenly, a system notification appeared only to Ethan. ???? [LEADERSHIP COMMAND ACTIVATED!] ? All teammates now instinctively follow Evan''s lead. ? Teamwork and cooperation increase. ???? [TEAM SYNERGY CARD ACTIVATED!] ? Everyone on the team gains a +2 boost to all attributes for the next 10 minutes. It was a silent powernone of the players could see or hear it. But they felt it. Everyone moved smoother. Everyone trusted each other more. It was as if Evan''s determination spread to the whole team. Back to the court Evan dribbled behind his back, quick and low to the ground. Mason stayed close, trying to read his every move. Then Evan faked a shothis feet slightly lifted, eyes looking straight at the rim. Mason jumped too early, trying to block it. But it was just a fake. Evan planted his feet again, now with a real chance to shoot. He rose up and released the ball with perfect form The crowd held its breath. But suddenly SLAM!!! A huge shadow flew in from the side. Jaxon Wells, the tall, powerful center from Orlando Hoops, had been waiting. His timing was perfect. His hand smacked the ball mid-air, sending it flying away. "NOT TODAY, DUMBASS!" Jaxon shouted, loud and proud. The ball bounced hard off the court, the crowd gasped, and even the announcer fell silent for a second. Evan landed on his feet, eyes wide, breathing hard. He''d just been blocked. As Evan stood frozen on the court. His feet had landed. His shot had been blocked. And now... silence. The crowd had moved on. The players were moving. But he stood there stunned. The sting of failure echoed in his chest. His hands hung by his sides, and for a brief moment... he felt small. But then A hand rested gently on his back. A firm, warm pat. He turned his head slightly. It was Ethan Albarado. The rookie. The benchwarmer. The quiet kid who had become the mind of this entire game. Ethan looked him in the eyes, calm as ever. "Captain," he said softly. That one word cut through the noise. Through the self-doubt. Through the pain. Evan blinked. He called me captain. Not because of rank. Not out of obligation. But out of respect. He looked at Ethan. And then Ethan gave a small, confident smile. "Let''s do our best." Simple words. No dramatic speech. No big gesture. But it was enough. Evan''s heart felt lighter. His lips curved into a small, quiet smile. (This... did he just... encourage me?) (He knew. He understood... that I tried. That I gave it everything. Even if I failed.) Evan nodded slowly. For the first time in a while, he didn''t feel like a captain by title He felt like a leader again. ..... Time Remaining: 2:00 Minutes Score: Orlando Hoops C 101 Vorpal Basket C 94 Ethan turned his head toward the court. His blue eyes sharpened. His breathing was steady. Everything in his mind clicked into place. Now''s the moment. He wasn''t the strongest. He wasn''t the fastest. But he had something else. Clarity. He could see it The weak spots in the enemy''s rotation. The flaw in their pressure defense. The cracks forming in Alec''s momentum. (They''re fast. They''re powerful. But... they don''t see the battlefield the way I do.) Ethan glanced over at Lucas. Lucas, catching the look, gave a silent nod. The plan didn''t need to be spoken anymore. They trusted him. This wasn''t about one player. This was about every piece moving in perfect sync. Ethan took one deep breath. (This is it. My moment to turn the tide.) He called out calmly to his teammates as the ball was inbounded: "Formation Shift C Double Mirror Break!" Everyone moved. The final battle had begun. .... Before all of this happened The players were gathered in a tight circle. Sweat rolled down their faces. The tension was heavy. But in the center of it all, standing confidently, was Ethan Albarado not the coach, not a senior... but the true strategist of this team. He crouched down, drawing with his finger on the clipboard that Coach Fred had handed him without hesitation. Coach Fred stood to the side, arms crossed, nodding as if deep in thought. "That''s it... hmm," Fred muttered, rubbing his chin. "Mhm... yes... brilliant." To the others, it looked like Fred was the one guiding things. But the players weren''t fooled. Coonie, their sharp-eyed clutch boy, squinted at Fred. (Pretentious bastard.) he thought, irritated. he nudged Kai, who rolled his eyes. Jeremy smirked. They all knew who was actually running the show. In the middle of the team huddle, Evan leaned closer to Ethan. "So... what''s our role?" he asked seriously. Ethan smiled that calm, focused smile of someone who already saw five moves ahead. "Simple," Ethan replied, locking eyes with his captain. "We''re going to make them guard shadows instead of players." He tapped the center of the court on the clipboard. "It''s called: Double Mirror Break. Here''s how it works..." .... Back to the present The gym was loud, screaming fans, pounding footsteps, and the sound of basketball echoing across the court. But even in all that noise, Ethan''s voice was clear and strong: "Formation Shift Double Mirror Break!" Right away, his team moved like they already knew what to do. It was like watching a puzzle come together. Lucas Graves moved up from the wing to the top of the key the center of the court. Evan Cooper, who usually stayed in the middle, slowly walked to the corner. That was strange... but it was all part of the plan. Down low, Ryan Taylor and Brandon Young pretended to switch places. They bumped into defenders on purpose, trying to confuse them. And Ethan? He jogged near the baseline, looking like he wasn''t part of the play. His head was down, like he was out of position. But the truth was....he was the key to everything. ..... Across the court, Alec Storm was watching carefully. His sharp eyes moved from Lucas... to Evan... to Ryan... to Brandon. But something felt wrong. "Where''s the threat coming from?" Alec whispered to himself. He could feel it something wasn''t right. And then it happened. Lucas made a quick fake toward the basket. His defender stepped in too far. Evan moved like he was about to shoot from the corner. Ryan set a screen, blocking the center. Brandon faked a strong move like he was going to post up. The defenders all got pulled in different directions. And that''s when Ethan made his move. He dashed from the baseline, running behind the defense, completely unseen. He was wide open. Lucas, without even looking, passed the ball right into Ethan''s hands. Perfect timing. ....... The crowd went silent for just a second. Ethan planted his feet. He raised the ball. He shot. The ball flew in a perfect arc, spinning softly through the air. Everyone watched. The gym held its breath. Swish. Nothing but net. The crowd exploded in cheers. Ethan didn''t smile. He didn''t raise his hands. He just turned around, calm and focused, heading back on defense. Because deep down, he knew: This wasn''t the end. Score: Orlando Hoops C 101 Vorpal Basket C 96 1:45 remaining .... 1:45 Remaining Score: Orlando Hoops C 101 Vorpal Basket C 96 The shrill whistle blew through the air, cutting into the deafening roars of the crowd. Coach Corson rubbed his temples as his team jogged back to the bench, sweat-drenched and rattled. He didn''t even bark orders. Didn''t yell. Didn''t curse. He just stared at the court. At the echo of the last play. His jaw clenched slightly. Then, quietly almost to himself, he muttered: "Double Mirror Break... that''s a damn genius setup." The assistant coaches leaned in. Corson didn''t turn. His eyes were still locked on the space where Ethan had taken the shot. "This isn''t just playground flash. This is war tactics. Smoke and mirrors." He motioned with his finger, outlining the mental replay like a detective rebuilding a crime scene. .... In Coach Corson mind replaying the scene Lucas Graves: He started on the left wingwhere most defenders expect him to be aggressive, maybe drive inside or take a quick shot. But instead... He moved smoothly to the top of the key. Calm. Controlled. It was a quiet fake. Just enough to shift the defense. They followed him, thinking he was setting up a isolation play. "They totally fell for it." Corson whispered. .... Evan Cooper: Normally, Evan plays point guard,he runs the offense. But this time, he drifted to the right corner. It looked odd. Out of place. Why was he there? For spacing? A fake play? The defenders weren''t sure. They started to overthink it. They stuck close to Evan tight defense. But that was the trick. He wasn''t part of the real play. He was just the distraction. Ryan Taylor & Brandon Young: The big guys. Tough and dependable. Now they were switching spots under the basket. At first, it looked like a mistake. Disorganized. But that was intentional. "They created confusion." Corson said out loud. "Our defenders didn''t know who to guard anymore." The Orlando players looked at each other, confused. Even Alec Storm didn''t know what to say. ....... And then there was Ethan Albarado. The ghost. He barely moved. Just jogged along the baseline, quiet and slow. He didn''t call for the ball. Didn''t act like part of the play. He looked like he wasn''t involved at all. But that was the setup. "He acted like dead weight," Corson murmured, eyes narrowing. "But in reality... he was the finisher." Lucas had all eyes on him. Evan was the bait. The paint was a blur of confusion. And then bam Ethan slipped out like smoke, received the pass, and nailed the shot. Perfect execution. "This isn''t normal high school ball anymore. That kid..." He clenched his fist. "Albarado... he''s not just playing basketball. He''s orchestrating it." He turned to his team. Their faces were tense, sweating, unsure, shaken. "Alright." Corson stood straight. His voice sharp now. "Let''s see who win this game." To be continue Chapter 39 - 26: The last minutes Chapter 39 - 26: The last minutes Time Remaining: 1:00 Minute Score: Orlando Hoops C 102 Vorpal Basket C 98 Only 4 points stood between Vorpal Basket and the comeback of the tournament. The crowd was on edge cheers and shouts turned into a low hum of anticipation. The gym was electric. Coach Corson stood at the sideline, arms folded, eyes narrowing. "If we get the ball back... I know exactly what to do." He wasn''t smiling. He wasn''t yelling. He was calculating. "(They''re too close... just one mistake, and they''ll catch up.)" Ethan Albarado dribbled up the court with focus burning in his eyes. Each bounce of the ball matched the ticking clock in his head. Bump. Bump. Bump. The court under his feet felt heavier now the weight of the entire team''s hopes pressing down on him. Behind him ran his brothers in arms Lucas. Evan. Ryan. Brandon. The Vorpal Five. Ethan''s mind raced. "No room for error. Just one clean set. We score. Then trap. Then score again." On the bench, the energy was tense almost unbearable. Coonie Smith (#6), the brash shooting guard, was gripping the towel draped around his neck, standing up now. He couldn''t sit anymore. Kai Mendoza, the quiet small forward, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowed and unblinking. He was mentally in the game. Jeremy Park (#42), the aggressive rebounder, bounced his legs nervously, muttering: "Come on, come on... let''s go... let''s eat." They were the backup plan. If the timeout came... if someone fouled out... or if things got tight Ethan would call their names. In the corner of the bench sat Josh Turner, icing his injured ankle. His hands trembled slightly as he held the ice pack in place. Sweat dripped down his temple. Not from pain... But from watching his team fight without him. He watched as Ethan moved like a general. He watched as Lucas and Evan set up into formation. Josh clenched his jaw, swallowing hard. "Just one more minute... Come on, guys..." "Win this... even without me." .... The court was tenseheavy with pressure. You could feel it in the air. Sweat dripped. Breathing was loud. Voices echoed. Every bounce of the ball sounded like a war drum, pounding through the gym. Alec Storm stood near the top of the three-point linearms slightly raised, feet set. His body was still, but his energy was electric. His eyes were locked on Ethan, not blinking, not moving. Then he grinneda wild, fearless smile. And he shouted across the court: "Bring it on!!" The crowd exploded, cheering, yelling, rising to their feet. But Ethan didn''t even flinch. He just took a sharp breath through his nosequiet but controlled. His face was calm. Focused. His eyes locked onto Alec like a sniper aiming at a target. No fear. No hesitation. He was ready. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Ethan started his attack. He launched into a Stutter Dribblea series of quick, uneven dribbles designed to throw Alec off rhythm. His body moved with itjerking left, twitching right, his shoulders dropping low, then popping up again. Each motion was fast, sharp, and unpredictable. It wasn''t just a dribbleit was a trap. He was testing Alec''s reactions, trying to get him to commit too early. Alec squinted, focusing hard. "(Trying to shake me? Cute.)" he thought, smirking slightly. But what came next wasn''t cute. It was deadly. Without warning, Ethan snapped into a Killer Crossover. One powerful stephis foot planted hard Then bamhis entire body shifted violently in the opposite direction. It was smooth. Explosive. A perfect blend of speed and precision. One second he was in front of Alec, the next he was gonea blur racing to the side. Alec''s eyes widened. "SHIT!" His feet slid the wrong way. He''d read the move too late. He staggered, arms flailing slightly to stay uprightcompletely off balance. The crowd gaspedone loud, collective intake of breath. Even Rhiana, watching from the front row, sat up straight, her hands clenched so tight her knuckles turned white. "That was the Killer Cross..." she whispered, eyes wide. The gym was electric. Crowds on both sides held their breath. Some were already standing, hands gripping the edge of their seats. Ethan''s killer crossover had just broken through the wall named Alec Storm. And now... Ethan passed the ball sharp, clean toward Lucas. Lucas caught the ball cleanly at the top of the arc. The leather thudded into his hands. He didn''t rush. He didn''t panic. He just stared at the basket like it was the only thing in the world. Alec Storm spun around, eyes widening. "NO!" But it was too late. Lucas bent his knees. Form perfect. Follow-through smooth. He shot. Time slowed. The ball arced high. It spun slowly a perfect spiral cutting through the air. Everyone watched. The crowd was silent. Josh Turner, injured on the bench, gripped his seat, whispering: "...Come on..." Coach Corson stood up, hand on his clipboard, not blinking. Rhiana covered her mouth, whispering: "Please..." Even Alec Storm, who had just been broken, could only stare at the ball as it sailed through the air... like it carried the weight of everyone''s hopes. SWISH. No rim. No bounce. Just net. A perfect three. The gym ERUPTED. Vorpal Basket C 103 Orlando Hoops C 101 Only two points ahead. Only 40 seconds remaining. People screamed. Some jumped. Others grabbed their heads, stunned. The announcer''s voice cracked over the mic: "LUCAS GRAVES FROM DOWNTOWN! VORPAL TAKES THE LEAD!!" Lucas landed softly, his expression still unreadable. But his teammates charged toward him. Ethan gave him a thumbs-up from across the court, a tiny smirk forming. Alec Storm stood frozen... His heart pounding. His jaw clenched. He looked at the scoreboard. "...No way..." His voice came out in a whisper, filled with disbelief. Coach Corson slapped his clipboard against his palm, trying to rally his team. "Don''t be discouraged!" he barked, sharp and loud. "We still have a one-point lead!" The players looked at him, tension tight on their faces. Some were anxious. Others were stunned. Corson''s voice grew quieter, more calculated, almost like he was talking to himself: "...We just have to..." He paused. Everyone stared at him, waiting. "...We just have to run out the clock." That was the plan. Simple. Deadly. Time over tactics. "DEFENSE FORMATION! ROTATE!" Ethan shouted, commanding the court like a general mid-battle. Vorpal''s players didn''t hesitate. Everyone snapped into positionlike pieces on a living chessboard. Ethan had initiated: Defensive Rotations Evan Cooper moved to the weak side wing. Lucas Graves stayed front and center, locking in on Alec. Ryan and Brandon patrolled the paint like towers. Ethan Albarado? He floated between lanes, reading everything like a strategist watching a war from above. "(Tsk... they''re gonna stall. They want to run the clock out. Smart... but not on my watch.)" His eyes flicked to the time. ???? 38.2 seconds remaining. "(If they score, we''re in trouble... We can''t afford to let them run the play out. We need pressure. Now.)" Alec Storm finally snapped out of it, the fire back in his eyes. He took the inbound, his grip on the ball tight. "Let''s go!" he shouted. He dribbled slowly, crossing the half-court line. Lucas closed in. Alec wasn''t rushing. He was stalling. Trying to bait. He clenched his jaw. "(Come on. Show me your hand... Storm.)" The defense tightened. No openings. No gaps. Just pressure. The tension was unbearable. 30 seconds... 29... 28... A ticking time bomb. And Ethan knew If they didn''t steal or force a miss, this might be the end. .... Alec Storm slowly dribbled the ball at the top of the arc. His eyes scanned the defense. Sweat dripped from his chin. His heart pounded like a war drum steady and loud. He knew Ethan was watching him... waiting for something. He focused. Too focused. He didn''t notice the subtle signal between teammates. "(If we don''t stop this possession, the clock will bleed out. And we lose.)" His jaw clenched. His hands balled into fists. And then Like lightning flashing across the sky of his memories It hit him. Back when he was Jonathan Brandit. The boy who never played again. The boy who could only study... ...but studied like a madman. He remembered staying up till 2AM watching hours of game film. Not just NBA classics, Not just WNBA highlights, Not just high school tournaments... Even simulated basketball AIs, tech-based coaching drills, future international leagues. He devoured it all. Why? Because when your body is gone, the mind becomes your only court. He learned formations, patterns, out-of-bounds strategies, set plays, off-ball cuts, transitions, time control plays... And most importantly: Contingency Plan made by the greeks player It was in the novel side Chapter of Turning Point A former league championship used it way back then in the novel. Two seconds of a contingency defense that forced a clutch steal. They called it: "Ghost Screen Steal." Not an actual screen. Not a real steal. But a misdirectionan illusion of movement, designed to bait a handler''s muscle memory into a predictable reaction. And who better to pull it off... ...than Lucas Graves. Ethan''s eyes narrowed again. He whispered to himself, "(That''s it... that''s the one.)" His gaze locked on Lucas. Lucas was already watching him. And Ethan... Just lip-synced the words: "Remember the Ghost" Lucas blinked in understanding. That was all it took. ... As Alec Storm took the ball up the court. Head high. Shoulders squared. To everyone else he looked confident. But Ethan saw it... That microsecond of hesitation. That doubt. That single crack in the armor of the "prodigy." ........ Ethan''s voice didn''t rise. He didn''t need to scream. His teammates understood the language he used The language of trust. His thoughts echoed: "(He''s going to switch hands right after the second dribble... That''s when he resets. That''s when he''s vulnerable.)" And Lucas He felt it. He saw Alec''s wrist twitch. That tiny, almost imperceptible motion. Not recklessly. Not out of desperation. But with the precision of someone who knew exactly what would happen. A fake step left. A quick jab forward like he was going for a screen. Alec bit the illusion muscle memory did the rest. The ball was exposed. And then Like a snake striking lightning-fast Lucas stole it. The crowd gasped. Time slowed. Alec''s eyes widened in disbelief. "Wha?!" Lucas was already gone. He sprinted down the court, the ball clutched tightly in his hands. The court shook with the weight of every footstep. Ethan didn''t cheer. He didn''t move. He just smiled eyes glinting with fire. "(We''re not done. Not yet. Not while I''m still breathing.)" Alec Storm was right behind him. Chasing with everything he had. Not just as a defender but as a wall standing between Lucas and the basket. And Alec wasn''t alone. Mason Hayes was flanking from the left. Julian Reed from the right. Jaxon was already under the rim. Albarado trailed the play, reading, calculating. The court was a stormand Lucas was caught in the eye. Alec''s voice cut through the chaos: "No, you CAN''T!!!" But Lucas didn''t flinch. He''d mimicked Alec''s killer speed before. He''d stolen his moves. And now... Even if his body was breaking down... Even if his mind was slipping under the weight of mimicry... He still had one card left. The Lookaway Dribble. A streetball technique he once saw... no, studied in his dreams. A move designed not just to fake with the body But with intention. He drove left. Eyes locked on the corner, like he was going to pass. Alec bit slightly, shifting his weight. Mason prepped for an intercept. Julian hesitated, tracking Ethan for a possible pass. And in that momentLucas slammed the ball back with a reverse dribble to his right hand. His head was still looking left. His shoulders were turned. But the ball was now behind his back and veering toward the open lane. Alec''s eyes widened. "(That''s!!) NO" He pushed off, cutting hard to follow. But Lucas had already slipped through the crack. Like water through fingers. Mason lunged. Too late. Julian yelled, "Switch!!" Too slow. .... Lucas didn''t look uphe felt it. He could feel the floor beneath his feet... The court... The pressure... And the heartbeat of every teammate watching from behind. "(Just a few more steps... Just a little more...)" .... But thenJaxon appeared. The giant. The wall. The rim protector. Waiting. And Lucas? Running out of time. Lucas saw it. Jaxon was in front of himlike a wall guarding the basket. Tall. Strong. Unmoving. There was no clear path to score. Not this time. Not directly. Lucas gritted his teeth. His muscles tensed. Every instinct screamed at him to push forward But he knew better. "(Then I won''t go through him... I''ll go around.)" In a split second, Lucas shifted his stance And fired a pass. Sharp. Fast. Perfectly aimed. It zipped through the air, straight toward Ethan. The crowd let out a loud gasp. "ETHAN!!" People shouted as heads turned Defenders snapped their focus to the right. Because there he was Ethan, wide open on the wing. Jaxon spun around. Alec twisted to recover. Julian leapt to cut off the pass. For a moment, it looked like Ethan would take the final shot The quiet one. The ghost. The finisher. The whole play had led to this. Or had it? Because in that moment... It didn''t just look like a shot. It looked like the moment The one the whole team had worked for. And the one Ethan had waited to own. He let the ball skim his fingers, just slightly. A feather touch. A redirect. A misdirection pass. The ball whipped behind him Clean. Quick. Perfect. And right into the hands of... Evan Cooper Waiting. Silent. Calm. Deadly. He was already setfeet planted, knees bent. His hands were ready before anyone realized where the ball had gone. "(They forgot about me...)" "(Just how we planned it.)" The defenders were two steps behind. Alec''s eyes widened. "NO!!" .... But the shot was already in the air. Smooth. Textbook. The kind of shot you don''t second guess. The entire gym held its breath. Josh Turner sat up on the bench. Kai clutched his jersey. Coach Fred didn''t move. Coach Corson''s lips parted, whispering: "...That was the real target..." And then BOOM. Swish. The scoreboard lit up: Vorpal Basket C 103 Orlando Hoops C 102 The arena exploded. But for just one second In the echo of that shot... The court fell silent. Evan stood there, arm raised, frozen in his follow-through. He exhaled slowly. A whisper under his breath: "(Captain... Evan Cooper.)" Ethan smiled, whispering to himself: "That''s my guy." To be continue Chapter 40 - 27: The Turning Point of a certain Team Chapter 40 - 27: The Turning Point of a certain Team The crowd was still roaring, but the tension was thick enough to cut through. The game wasn''t over. Not yet. Orlando still had one last chance. With just 10.2 seconds on the clock, the Orlando Hoops were in full attack mode. They needed one possession to win, one clean shot to break Vorpal Basket''s hearts. Alec Storm, the team''s star, stood at the top of the key, breathing heavily. His eyes were fierce, his muscles coiled like a spring. His teammates were set. He wasn''t going to lose. Not after everything that had happened. Ethan and Lucas were guarding him tightly, but Alec''s eyes scanned the floor, looking for an opening, looking for a way through. Mason Hayes, in the paint, had the ball. His hands were trembling slightly as he bounced it, waiting, hesitating for the final call. 5 seconds left. Ethan wasn''t going to give up on him that easily. "Defense!" Ethan shouted. Mason passed the ball to Alec. With one powerful dribble, Alec faked left, then turned right, using all his body weight to push past Lucas''s defense. Alec Storm made his move. He took off towards the basket, eyes locked on the hoop. Ethan stayed close behind, anticipating every move. Alec shifted his body, ready to go for the layup, but just as he was about to take the shot Ethan lunged! The moment felt like it lasted forever. Alec could feel the pressure all around himthe intensity, the heat of the game. He jumped, lifting the ball for the layup. The crowd was on their feet, screaming, holding their breath. But then Ethan''s hand shot out. He tipped the ball. The basketball spun away, just inches from Alec''s fingertips. Ethan Albarado dove for the ball, and Lucas was there to back him up, jumping to recover the deflected pass. Alec cursed under his breath. But it wasn''t over. As The ball was loose. It was going to be a scramble. Mason was charging in, desperate to keep the play alive, but Ryan Taylor slammed into him, forcing him off balance. Evan Cooper was already streaking down the court, eyes locked on the ball. He didn''t hesitate. The final buzzer sounded. The ball hit the floor. Vorpal Basket had done it. The gym erupted. Vorpal Basket C 103 Orlando Hoops C 102 The crowd was deafening. Ethan stood there, chest heaving, eyes wide. He couldn''t believe it. They had done it. Evan dropped to his knees, overwhelmed with emotion. The weight of the game, the team, the season it all came crashing down on him. He couldn''t hold back his tears anymore. Coach Fred couldn''t help but smile, a sneaky glint in his eyes as he looked at his team. Alec Storm stood frozen, his heart heavy. He had pushed himself, given everything he had, but in the end it wasn''t enough. As Alec stood there, still processing the loss, his eyes locked on Rhiana, who stood in the corner, watching the final moments of the game. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts. "(I failed you)" he thought, feeling a pang of guilt. He had given it everything, poured his heart into every dribble, every shot, every play. But it hadn''t been enough. Not tonight. He wanted to win for her. For himself. But mostly for Rhiana to show her that he could come through when it mattered. But now, with the game slipping away, all he felt was the weight of failure. Then, Ethan approached. His footsteps were steady, calm. No one could have blamed him for feeling the adrenaline rush, but Ethan''s expression was composed. He had been the catalyst, the anchor of his team, and yet his demeanor never betrayed the intensity of the game. Alec looked at him, ready for the typical praise, maybe even some sarcastic remark about how much better Ethan had played. But what Ethan said next caught him off guard. "You gave it everything, Alec," Ethan said, his voice calm, without a hint of mockery or arrogance. "You''re an amazing player. But tonight... we''re just lucky we won." Alec blinked, processing the words. For a moment, the words hung in the air like a weightless truth. "Lucky?" Alec thought, confused for a second. Was Ethan downplaying their victory? Was he saying it wasn''t because of skill but chance? But then it hit him. The look in Ethan''s eyes wasn''t one of arrogance or condescension, it was... understanding. Ethan continued, his eyes never leaving Alec''s. "We might have won, but you played your heart out. And that''s all that matters. It was a battle, Alec. And you were a part of it. We got lucky with the break, but you don''t need to apologize." The words struck Alec harder than any loss could have. He had expected the typical victory speech, a sense of triumph. But what Ethan offered was something different, a kind of acknowledgment of the effort, the fight, the grind. Alec nodded slowly, feeling the weight in his chest shift just a little. "I guess we all fight," he muttered under his breath. "But we can''t win them all, can we?" Ethan gave a small, understanding smile. "No, we can''t." But then his voice took on a more serious tone. "But you don''t have to win every game to matter, Alec. What you did tonightit mattered. To your team, to your fans, to everyone who watched. You showed what it means to fight until the last second." Alec looked at Ethan again, a faint flicker of understanding passing between them. It wasn''t about the victory or the loss. It was about the effort. The heart. The battle. And in that moment, he realized that maybe Ethan was right. The two of them stood in the middle of the court, as the rest of the team celebrated, their voices blending into the background. Ethan''s words were simple, but they carried weight. Alec didn''t need anyone''s approval he knew now that what truly mattered was that he had given everything. That was the mark of a true player. And though he didn''t win this time, he wasn''t finished. Alec took a deep breath, and for the first time since the buzzer, the weight in his chest felt lighter. "Thanks," he said quietly, his voice soft but sincere. "I guess I needed this." Ethan gave him a nod, turning back to his teammates. "Anytime." he replied simply, his focus now shifting to the celebration around them. But the understanding between the two was clearit was a moment that transcended the game. They may not have won every battle, but they had each other''s respect. And for now, that was enough. Then Ethan looked around the court, watching his teammates celebrate. Each one had their own way of showing itsmiling, yelling, hugging. It was their moment. Lucas, the energetic spark of the team, was practically bouncing off the walls. His joy was contagious, spreading like wildfire. He couldn''t contain himself, his arms shooting up into the air in a triumphant gesture. His laughter echoed loudly, a sound of pure, unrestrained happiness. As he jumped up and down, his energy was almost overwhelming, and he shouted, "Yes! We won!!!" His voice rang through the gym, and it felt like the very walls were vibrating with excitement. Evan, usually calm and reserved, was almost unrecognizable in his happiness. He was pumping his fists, grinning from ear to ear. It was a rare sightone that spoke volumes about how much this victory meant to him, to them all. Ryan stood nearby, his eyes burning with pride. His fist was raised high in the air, still vibrating with the adrenaline of the game. He had worked hard, sacrificed his body, and now he was feeling the weight of the win. The team''s effort was evident in every part of his body language. Brandon, always the first to share the glory, was enthusiastically giving out high-fives to everyone in sight. His energy was infectious, and no one could resist the contagious joy that came with his gesture. Even Josh, the injured benchwarmer, couldn''t help but grin despite the pain in his ankle. He had been sidelined but had always been there, offering support and encouragement, and now it was his moment to share in the victory, even if he hadn''t played. But the celebration didn''t stop there. Coonie Smith, usually more composed, had tears in his eyes. His face was a mix of disbelief and elation. It wasn''t just a winit was the kind of win that felt like it had been a long time coming. His voice cracked a little, and he muttered, "We won... for fucking years this is the first time we won in a serious match." His words hit everyone like a wave. It wasn''t just a victory on the scoreboard. It was a victory for all the hard work, all the struggles they''d endured. It was the culmination of everything they''d sacrificed, everything they''d given, just to get here. Kai Mendoza and Jeremy Park, equally overcome with emotion, immediately rushed to Coonie. They enveloped him in a tight hug, lifting him off the ground in their shared joy. "Coonie, we won!!" they both exclaimed in unison, their voices filled with pure excitement. But Coonie, overwhelmed by the emotion and a little embarrassed by all the attention, tried to shove them away. "Get off me, you duffos!" he said, though there was no malice in his words. His voice still wavered with emotion, and his attempt to act tough only made the moment feel more reallike they were finally allowed to let their guard down, to embrace the victory that had eluded them for so long. ... But while the team reveled in their success, Ethan couldn''t shake the feeling that something was missing, something important that loomed just beyond the horizon. The victory was sweet, no doubt. It was hard-earned, and it felt like they had crossed an impossible threshold. But deep down, he knew that this game wasn''t the end. "We did it." Ethan murmured, the words escaping almost as a whisper, as if he were trying to convince himself. Lucas, standing beside him, beamed a smile so wide it almost seemed to light up the entire gym. His face was full of joy, but there was something about the way he looked at Ethan that felt different. It wasn''t just a shared victory; there was a silent understanding, a bond forged through everything they had been through. "We did it," Lucas echoed, his voice full of pride, his eyes sparkling. Then, with a grin that showed his true spirit, he held out his fist toward Ethan. "Partner." Ethan looked at Lucas, taking in his enthusiasm, his genuine joy. He could see how much this meant to him. It wasn''t just about the win, it was about all the hard work, the sweat, and the effort that had led them to this moment. But there was more to it than that, something that came from deep within. Ethan smiled back, a rare moment of pure, unguarded warmth. It wasn''t easy to let his guard down, but in this moment, with Lucas and the rest of the team, he didn''t need to. They had fought for this together. "Yeah, we did it..." Ethan said, his voice steady but with a flicker of something deeper. Something that told Lucas, and anyone paying attention, that Ethan wasn''t just talking about this game. He was talking about the journey. The path they had walked, side by side, not knowing what the future held but stepping forward anyway. Ethan''s thoughts momentarily drifted. This wasn''t the end...I knew what will happened in the novel. There is something more coming, something that would challenge them all even further. But for now... for now, they had earned this moment. Ethan looked at Lucas one last time, a knowing glance shared between them. There was more to their partnership than this one victory, and they both knew it. The road ahead was uncertain, but as long as they faced it together, they would be ready. And for tonight, that was enough. To be continue Chapter 41 - 28: My 15-year-old Self Chapter 41 - 28: My 15-year-old Self Jonathan Brandit sat in his wheelchair, staring out the window of the rehabilitation center. The faint hum of machines and the occasional shuffle of nurses in the hallway were the only sounds that filled the sterile, white-walled room. His fingers gripped the armrests of his chair tightly, knuckles white, his body stiff. One year. One whole year since the accident that turned his world upside down. One year since he lost everything. He shifted slightly, feeling the familiar weight of his body in the chair, as though he could never fully escape it. The weight of the past year. The weight of his own anger. His gaze turned toward the psychologist, Eric, sitting across from him, a notepad in hand. Eric had been Jonathan''s therapist for the past few months, but the sessions never seemed to get anywhere. They had started with small talk, the typical routine of a psychologist and a reluctant patient, but Jonathan was always ready to shut him down before it ever got real. Eric''s voice broke through the silence, gentle and probing, as if trying to ease Jonathan into a conversation that might open something up. "How''s your day?" Eric asked, looking at Jonathan with an expression that tried, and failed, to hide the sympathy he felt. Jonathan''s jaw tightened. His eyes flickered to the ground before snapping back to the psychologist. He exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration rising inside him like a storm. "I''m fine," Jonathan replied stiffly. "Really. It''s been one year since that incident. That fucking incident." His fist clenched in his lap, the veins in his arm standing out as the anger surged within him. His mind flashed back to the crash, the screeching tires, the impact, the pain, and then... nothing. Only a broken body and a fractured soul left behind. Eric didn''t respond immediately. He just sat there, his pen poised above the notepad, watching Jonathan carefully. He had seen this response before, the anger and the resistance, but it didn''t make it any easier to handle. Jonathan wasn''t the first patient he had met who struggled with the aftermath of trauma, but it didn''t mean it didn''t hurt to watch someone like Jonathan, so full of promise, drowning in bitterness and resentment. "You''re still not being honest with me, Jonathan," Eric said softly, his voice calm and steady. "It''s been one year since you started coming here. You''ve come a long way, but you''re still holding onto a lot of pain." Jonathan''s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching tighter. He turned his head away, glaring out the window at the distant view of the city. "Fuck that ''holding onto pain'' talk," he muttered bitterly. "What am I supposed to do, huh? Just forget it all? Forget I can''t walk anymore? Forget I can''t do what I love? Forget my life was ruined in an instant?" The anger in his voice was raw, uncontrolled, and Eric could feel the heat of it. But he didn''t flinch. He had been doing this for a long time and had seen this reaction many times before. Eric leaned forward slightly; his expression unwavering. "You''re only 15, Jonathan. You have a lot of life ahead of you. Don''t let this one thing define the rest of it. There are still so many things for you to do. You don''t have to have it all figured out right now." Jonathan''s eyes snapped back to Eric. He was seething, the words cutting like a knife. "Do in life? Are you really a therapist?" He scoffed. "What the hell do you know? You''re just sitting there, telling me things will get better. But it doesn''t feel better. It doesn''t feel better at all." There was silence between them for a long moment. Jonathan''s chest heaved with every breath, his body tense, and Eric knew the battle inside Jonathan''s mind wasn''t going to end with simple words. Eric''s voice was quiet but firm. "Jonathan, I''m here to help you. But it''s up to you to take the first step. You don''t have to carry this weight alone." Jonathan didn''t say anything, his gaze still fixed on the window. His grip on the armrests relaxed slightly, but his expression remained hard. Eric didn''t press him anymore. He could tell that Jonathan had reached his limit...for now. But as a psychologist, Eric knew the journey ahead wouldn''t be easy. There would be more moments like this; full of anger, hurt, and frustration. Still, he believed there was hope. There was always hope. As long as Jonathan was willing to keep trying, to keep fighting... Things could get better. As the session ended, Jonathan wheeled himself slowly out of the room, his mind a storm of thoughts. He didn''t want to admit it, but something about Eric''s words lingered. Maybe one day, he would start listening. But not today. Not yet. Not until he could find a way to walk again, even if it was only in his own mind. For now, he would hold onto the anger. ..... Jonathan rolled his wheelchair out of the rehab room, the sound of the wheels on the smooth floor echoing in the hallway. His eyes flicked around briefly before landing on his younger brother, Leo Brandit, waiting by the door. Jonathan sighed, trying to hide the weight of the frustration and envy that had been building inside him all day. His legs were still a reminder of everything he had lost, and his brotherso full of potentialwas just a reminder of what he would never be able to do again. "Leo... where''s Mom and Dad?" Jonathan asked, his voice low and tired, though he tried to mask it with a casual tone. Leo looked up at his brother, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. Despite his 11 years, Leo was mature beyond his age, always aware of the unspoken tension between them. He smiled gently, trying to ease his brother''s mood. "Mom''s talking to the doctor. She''ll be back in a minute," Leo answered. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Dad has an appointment, so he said he''d be back later. He told me to wait for you here." Jonathan nodded, still staring ahead, though his gaze was unfocused. He didn''t want to show it, but he could feel the jealousy creeping into his chest, a sensation that had become all too familiar lately. His eyes unconsciously fell to Leo''s legs, watching his brother stand, lean, and move with ease. ("Leo''s future... It''s so bright. He doesn''t know what it''s like to have everything ripped away in an instant.") He quickly looked away, unwilling to show the weakness in front of his younger brother. "What about Dad?" Leo''s smile wavered slightly, but he kept it on for Jonathan''s sake. He could tell his brother was struggling with something deeper than he was willing to admit. "He just has some appointment with a specialist. He told me he''d be back later... after he''s done. But don''t worry about that." Leo paused, then added, "I''m sure he''ll be back soon." Jonathan just nodded again, trying to keep the emotions inside. Leo was right therestanding tall, full of energy. Leo had everything he had once dreamed of: a future in basketball, no limits. No constraints. Jonathan couldn''t help but feel the jealousy creeping inside. He quickly clenched his fists, fighting to suppress it, but it was hard. Harder than he wanted to admit. "You''re a good player, Leo," Jonathan said, his voice barely a whisper, though the bitterness was still clear. "You''re... going to go places. I just wish I could..." Leo''s eyes softened as he looked down at his brother. He had seen the pain in Jonathan''s eyes before, and even though he was only 11, he understood more than anyone realized. He could tell Jonathan was still consumed by resentmentnot just toward the accident, but toward himself. Leo wanted to say something, to ease that pain. But what could he say? ("I may not know what he''s going through... but I just hope he doesn''t resent himself for what happened. I don''t want him to feel like this forever. I want him to know I look up to himhe''s my hero. He always was.") But all Leo said, his voice soft and filled with the weight of unspoken words, was, "I hope you don''t give up, Brother. You''re the reason I started playing basketball in the first place. You... you were always the best." Jonathan blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his younger brother''s voice. He could feel the weight of Leo''s words, and for a brief moment, he forgot about the jealousy and the bitterness. For just a heartbeat, he felt proudproud of the brother he had raised, the brother who still looked up to him, even though he had nothing left to give. Jonathan didn''t respond right away, instead lowering his head. The quiet hit him like a wave. His brother, Leo, wanted to be like him. Wanted to be him. The thought made Jonathan''s chest ache in ways he hadn''t been prepared for. ("I don''t deserve his admiration... not like this. But I''ll be damned if I don''t try to make things right. For him. For me. For us.") Leo looked up at his brother with a hopeful gaze, wishing he could do more. He wished he could take away all of Jonathan''s pain, make it go away like it never existed. But he was just a kid. What could he do? Jonathan looked at Leo, his voice cracking as he spoke, "I''m sorry I shouted at you back then. I''m sorry I was immature to you, even though you..." Leo immediately placed a hand on his brother''s shoulder, his expression softening as he looked at him. "I understand, Brother... you don''t need to say anything." But Jonathan''s emotions were overwhelming. The weight of the guilt and frustration he had been carrying for so long broke through all at once. His tears came without warning, hot and heavy, as he let himself finally feel everything he had been holding back. The tears fell freely, as if the dam had broken, and he couldn''t stop it. Leo, unsure of what to do, just stood there, watching his brother. He wanted to comfort him, but he didn''t have the words. He could only offer his presence, letting Jonathan cry without saying anything else. As Jonathan''s sobs filled the air, their mother, who had just finished talking with the doctor, entered the hallway. She saw her son, her once strong, confident boy, breaking down in front of her. She didn''t approach them immediately, her own heart aching at the sight. Instead, she stood still, her hands trembling at her sides. Tears welled in her eyes as she watched her sons in this raw, vulnerable moment. She couldn''t hold it in anymore. She, too, began to cry, feeling the weight of everything they had gone through. Jonathan''s breakdown was a release, a cathartic moment for him. And as his mother stood in the hallway, unable to approach yet, she shared in that grief. She understood. And in that moment, the silence between them all was as heavy as the storm that had been raging in Jonathan''s heart. .... Back to the present Jonathan Brandit, now Ethan Albarado, stood quietly amidst the explosion of cheers. The gym buzzed with energy, his teammates shouting and laughing, overwhelmed by the victory they had just stolen from the jaws of defeat. But Ethan wasn''t cheering. He was watching. Watching them Lucas, Evan, Ryan, Kai, Jeremy, even Cooniecelebrate as one. A team forged in a single day, yet already bound by something deeper than wins and losses. And in that moment, Ethan felt something shift inside him. He wasn''t just an extra anymore. He wasn''t just "the boy in the wheelchair." He had rewritten that story. (Now that I think about it... in my world, when I was still Jonathan... the one who made me read novels was my brother, Leo... If it weren''t for him... I wouldn''t have known this world. This novel called Turning Point.) A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at Ethan''s lips. (I used to laugh when Leo shoved another book into my hands, telling me I''d like this one. That I''d "see myself" in it... Maybe he knew. Maybe he always saw something in me I didn''t.) He looked at Lucas his "partner" the supposed protagonist of this world. The one this story was written for. But here Ethan was. Living. Changing things. (I''m not just reading the story anymore... I''m in it. And this time... I''ll keep turning the pages until the end. My way.) Ethan closed his eyes for a moment, silently thanking the brother he may never see again. And when he opened them, he walked toward his teamtoward his storyready for whatever came next. To be continue Chapter 42 - 29: Aftermath of the Game Chapter 42 - 29: Aftermath of the Game The noise of the gym was still echoingshoes squeaking, voices shouting, the distant sound of the scoreboard buzzer still ringing in Ethan''s ears. But all of that faded the moment he saw them. His family. Standing by the edge of the court, just past the line of cheering teammates and flashing cameras, were the three people he hadn''t expected to see today. His little sister, Anna. His mother, Elle. His father, Alfred. They had been watching the whole game. From the beginning to the very end. And now, they were here. Anna, just 10 years old, sprinted across the court with the kind of innocent joy only children could carry, her pigtails bouncing as she ran. "Big brother!!!" she called out, her voice high and full of excitement. Ethan dropped to one knee just in time to catch her in his arms as she leapt into him. Her tiny frame crashed into his chest and he hugged her tightly, laughing softly as he spun her once. "Anna..." he whispered, his voice catching in his throat as he held her tighter. She looked up at him, beaming from ear to ear. Behind her came Ellehis mother, graceful as ever, her eyes shimmering with tears she refused to let fall. Her smile was warm, and her hands were folded near her chest as she stepped closer. "Ethan... I''m proud of you," she said gently. He looked up at her, still holding Anna in his arms, and his eyes softened. "Mother..." he said, emotion trembling in his voice. Then came the familiar sound of heavy footsteps and a booming laugh, Alfred Albarado, his father. Broad-shouldered and confident as always, he stood tall with arms crossed and an unmistakable spark of pride in his eyes. "As expected of my son," he said with a wide grin. His deep voice rumbled like thunder through the gym as he walked over and gave Ethan a firm pat on the shoulder, nearly making him stumble. "Your basketball talent was inherited from me, after all!" he laughed heartily. Ethan couldn''t help but roll his eyes with a grin, wiping away the quiet tears forming in the corners of his eyes. It wasn''t just the victory that made this day unforgettable....it was this. The warmth of family. The pride in their eyes. The feeling of being seen not as a background character, not as an extrabut as their son, their brother... as Ethan. He stood up slowly, Anna still clinging to his arm, and looked at them all. (This... This moment. This warmth. This connection. I don''t hate this one bit at all...) And for the first time in a long time... He truly felt like he was really home. ..... Lucas stood at the edge of the court, just a few steps away from the rest of the celebrating team. His face wore a quiet smile genuine, but laced with something softer, something unspoken. He watched Ethan with his family, taking in the laughter, the hugs, the warmth of a reunion that made victory even sweeter. Lucas didn''t envy it. Not exactly. But there was a hollow space inside him that ached gently as he imagined what that moment might have felt like... if things had been different. His hand clenched slightly at his side, but his smile never faded. (Mom would''ve loved to see this... if only she wasn''t working.) He lifted his eyes toward the empty seats in the upper bleachers. That''s where he had imagined her sitting. Where he had hoped she might be, just this once. But he knew better. His mother CEO of BAC, the Basketball Asian Company was one of the most powerful women in the Asian basketball industry. Always on the move. Always managing athletes, arranging tournaments, making appearances. It was through her that Lucas had come to love the sport watching her navigate the professional world of basketball, watching the games of the players she trained, mentored, believed in. She had sparked his fire. And yet... despite everything, she couldn''t be here. Not because she didn''t care, but because life had demanded too much of her already. And of him. Lucas swallowed hard, eyes dipping slightly. (If only Dad wasn''t in a coma... maybe she wouldn''t have to carry everything alone.) It had been three years now. Three long, grueling years since the accident that left his father unconscious, hooked to machines, lying still in a quiet hospital room. Lucas still visited. So did his sister. And his motherwhen she could spare a moment between boardrooms and court sidelines. (Maybe... just maybe, if things were different, I could''ve been like them.) But even with all that weight on his shoulders, even with no mother in the stands or father waiting at home, Lucas still smiled. He had a purpose on the court. And even if his family couldn''t be there in person... He''d play for them. Every single game. No excuses. No regrets. Only heart. Suddenly someone shouting "Lucas!!" Lucas blinked. His heart skipped a beat when he heard the familiar voice cut through the post-game noise. "Lucas!!!" His head turned, scanning the crowd and then he saw her. Standing near the edge of the court, waving enthusiastically with that wide, goofy grin she always wore when she was proud but trying not to cry, was Ayumi Brooke. Lucas''s eyes widened in surprise. "Ayumi?" he said, almost disbelieving. Ayumi ran up to him, slightly out of breath, her short ponytail bouncing with each step. Her cheeks were flushed, not just from the sprint across the gym, but from the overwhelming excitement in her chest. "Heehee... I was just going to surprise you," she said, laughing softly as she leaned forward, hands on her knees. "Are you surprised?" Lucas let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah... yeah, I am." He rubbed the back of his head, trying not to let the heat rise to his cheeks. "I didn''t think you''d be here." Ayumi stood up straighter and placed her hands on her hips in mock frustration. "Of course I came, dummy! I''m still your number one supporter, remember?" He smiled at her genuine, warm, touched. But behind that smile, a flicker of emotion ran through him. It hadn''t been that long since Ayumi was booted from her position as the basketball club managerthanks to Coach Fred Mason, a bitter, lazy, out-of-shape excuse of a coach. He remembered the arguments, the way Ayumi stood up for the players, for the team, how she called Fred out on his incompetence and lack of passion. Fred didn''t like that. His ego couldn''t take it. So he retaliated. And Ayumi was pushed out. But here she was still standing. Still cheering. Still the same fireball of energy that had always been there for him. Lucas looked down for a moment, then up at her again. "Thanks for coming, Ayumi." She smiled and nodded. "Of course. That was an insane game, you know. You were amazing." Lucas looked at her for a long moment, eyes softening as her words hit him deeper than he expected. "I told you you could pull it off...." Ayumi''s voice was gentle, teasing, but full of pride. "You were always complaining...I''m not talented,'' ''I''m not good,'' ''I''ll forever be a bench player''... Blahblah" She chuckled, her arms crossing as she tilted her head. "I mean, look at you. That game, that play you did... it was amazing." Lucas swallowed. He remembered those late nights, sitting on the bench while the others played. Remembered the self-doubt, the frustration of working hard but not being seen. The way he used to call Ayumi in the middle of the night, venting, doubting himself. "(She never gave up on me... even when I did.)" Lucas thought, a faint heat blooming in his chest. He gave her a big smile. "I guess you were right hehehe" For the first time in a long time, Lucas didn''t feel like just a shadow on the bench. He glanced down at his hands the same hands that had been idle for so long, gripping towels and water bottles. But tonight, those hands had played. Had mattered. He breathed in, heart still racing from the rush of it all, and thought quietly to himself: "(Thank you, old man...)" The memory of that strange meeting the mysterious old man who had handed him the pill flashed in his mind. The Power of Absolute Mimicry. A gift... or maybe a burden. But one that had finally given him a chance. "(If it weren''t for that... I''d still be sitting at the far end of the bench... invisible...)" But not anymore. He was brought back to the present as Ayumi waved a hand in front of his face. "What are you spacing out for?" she said with a playful frown. "Now c''mon, let''s celebrate! Don''t think for a second I''m letting you walk away without at least three pictures and a victory drink" she tapped her chin, grinning, "or bubble tea. Whatever we can get." Lucas chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders finally beginning to ease. "Alright, alright," he said. "But hmpp I''m not doing those weird poses you always make me do." Ayumi laughed. "No promises! You''re a star now. You''ve got to give the fans what they want." As they walked off toward the rest of the team, the sound of victory still pulsing through the air. And deep inside, he made a silent vow. "(This is just the beginning... I''m not going back to the bench. Not anymore.)" ...... Meanwhile, a man stood alone in the dark tunnel near the gym exit, where the lights didn''t shine and the sounds of celebration were faint. A man stood alone. Dressed in a sleek black coat, his figure was sharp and composed, like someone who didn''t belong among the chaos of teenagers and their triumphs. His expression was unreadable, save for the faintest smirk curled on the edge of his lips. His eyes locked on one person. "So his son is just like him... I thought it wasn''t." His voice was low, but laced with something chilling half curiosity, half threat as he watched Lucas Graves among the crowd, laughing with Ayumi. He took a slow step back, his boots echoing slightly on the polished floor as he continued murmuring to himself. "Lucas Graves..." he said the name with a strange sense of weight, as if it meant more to him than to anyone else in the world. "I hope you won''t be a trouble to us in the future..." His eyes narrowed slightly. "...or else you might end up like your father." With that final warning whispered into the void, he turned his back on the light, on the court, on the sound of celebration and stepped outside. The gym doors creaked shut behind him. And just like that... He vanished. To be continue Chapter 43 - 30: A New Beginning Chapter 43 - 30: A New Beginning The sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting golden streaks over the gym windows as the echoes of celebration slowly faded. But for Ethan Albarado and Lucas Graves, the real noise had only just begun. Word of the game had spread like wildfire across Oak Hill Academy. Students who had once ignored their school''s struggling basketball team now talked about it with wide eyes and excited voices. Some had watched from the bleachers, others through shaky phone streams, but all of them had witnessed the same thing: A miracle. A team once dismissed as "garbage" Had won. The once-quiet walkways of Oak Hill were now filled with buzzing energy. Groups of students pointed, laughed, and gathered near the dorm steps, waitinghopingto get a glimpse of the ones who changed everything. As Ethan and Lucas stepped into the open, heading toward the dorms with Evan, Ryan, Josh, Brandon, and the rest trailing behind, they were immediately met by a wave of cheers. "Lucas!!! Ethan!!!" "Ethan Albarado!!" "Lucas Graves!!" It was surreal. Faces they barely knew. People who had never spoken to them. Students from different grades, different programsshouting their names with genuine excitement. Ethan blinked, confused. "What the..." Lucas looked around, stunned, his hand half-raised in disbelief. Evan laughed, slapping Ethan on the back. "They must''ve seen our game back then," Evan said with a grin. Lucas smiled, still overwhelmed. ("Is this what it feels like... to finally be seen?") They weren''t invisible anymore. They were the talk of the academy. The pride of a team reborn. And even though it was just one exhibition gamejust one winthey had carved their names into the walls of Oak Hill with that performance. This wasn''t just about winning a match. It was the beginning of something far greater. A new reputation. A new Chapter. A new beginning. .... Ethan pov I thought to myself, "(As expected... that game earlier made us celebrities overnight. Well, in this novel, basketball is everything... after all, this is the world of basketball.)" I glanced around. The faces of the students lit up as they looked at ussmiling, laughing, cheering like we were heroes. Like we mattered. "(I still can''t get used to that look... the way their eyes shine when they look at me like that. It''s too different from the world I knew. Too warm.)" Then came Kai Mendoza, loud as ever, grinning like a madman and throwing his arms up as he yelled, "We are good, right? Right? RIGHT?" Coonie Smith, always the straight-faced one, just rolled his eyes and snapped, "Shut up." Lucas Graves stood beside me, slightly behind, his usual energetic persona dimmed down as he scratched the back of his head shyly. Despite all his bouncing and joking, he wasn''t used to this much attention. Praise, celebrationit overwhelmed him more than anyone. Even he wasn''t immune to this new feeling. That warmth. That light. Then Evan came up and clapped a hand hard on my back. "What do you think about their reaction?" he asked, smirking. I hesitated. "(Should I even think about their reaction?)" I wondered. But when I met their eyesthose who praised me, who called my name with admirationI felt something stir inside me. Something warm. Something... nostalgic? "(What is this...? It feels... good. Like I missed this. Like something I lost a long time ago...)" I turned to Evan, hiding that swirl of emotion behind a small grin. "Not bad..." I replied. That was all I could say without letting too much slip. Then, of course, Ryan Taylor was being... Ryan Taylor. Slick hair, cocky grin, surrounded by a group of curious girls as he leaned against the wall like he was in a drama scene. "We are the best, right?" he said, flashing a wink. The girls giggled, half-impressed, half-confused. Brandon Young, our center and unofficial team babysitter, crossed his arms and shook his head, muttering under his breath, "This guy..." He looked like he wanted to pretend he wasn''t part of this group, but I could see it in his eyes. He was proud. We all were. Even if we didn''t show it the same way. This... this was something different. Something we could hold onto. Something that felt like the start of a story worth telling. ..... Meanwhile Eastgate College, Boston, Massachusetts Eastgate Wildcats Basketball Team Locker Room The bouncing of basketballs suddenly stopped. The usual chatter faded into hushed whispers as every player gathered around a phone, eyes glued to the screen. Orlando Hoops: Defeated. By a team no one had even paid attention to. Vorpal Basket. The locker room went still. It was like a cold gust had swept through, leaving the players frozen in disbelief. Standing in the center was Miho Parkthe captain of the Eastgate Wildcats. He was known across the region as a Korean prodigy: tall, sharp, and unnervingly precise in everything he didwhether it was passing, defending, or scoring. But right now, that calm precision shattered. The basketball in his hands slipped from his fingers, bouncing off the hardwood with a loud thud that echoed through the room. His wide eyes were locked on the screen. His mouth was slightly open. Then he spoke, barely above a whisper: "What are you saying? Are you telling me Alec got defeated? My rival... Alec?" His voice crackednot out of fear, but something deeper. Confusion. Curiosity. And maybe... excitement. (Alec... The one I''ve always chased after... lost?) One of his teammates, Davis Conner, the reliable and strong power forward, stepped forward slowly. He had the look of someone delivering heavy news. "Yes... Captain. It''s true. Orlando lost. They lost to some team from Virginia. Vorpal Basket." The room went completely silent. Then, unexpectedly, Miho let out a loud, sharp laugh. "Ahahahahaha!" The sound echoed unnaturally in the tense air. Every player turned to stare at him like he''d lost it. Miho''s chest rose and fell as he tried to calm himself, the laughter turning into short, excited breaths. "I can''t believe itno... I can''t," he said, eyes gleaming with something wild. A grin slowly formed on his face. He bent down, picked up the ball he had dropped, and gripped it tightly. Then he stared down at the floor like he was replaying the game in his mind. (Alec... My greatest rival... brought down by a team no one even knew? Who the hell are they? Vorpal Basket? What kind of name is that?) His grip on the ball tightened, fingers pressing into the surface. (If they''re strong enough to beat Alec... then maybe I''ve been chasing the wrong person all this time. Maybe they are the ones I need to beat.) The tension in the room shifted the moment Miho Park lifted his head. The wild grin was gone. In its place was a cool determination that made the rest of the team straighten up without even thinking. As Miho lifted his gaze, and his eyes now sharp with new purpose. His voice was low, but it carried weight "Get ready." "Because we''re going to Virginia." Gasps, murmurs, and wide-eyed glances shot around the room. From the corner, a wiry teen with shaggy brown hair and sharp reflexes raised his hand slightly, a bit hesitant. It was Armi Hassuf, their ever-curious, sometimes-overthinking shooting guard. "But Captain," Armi said, scratching the back of his head, "they just played a match, right? Wouldn''t they be... I don''t know...tired? Burned out?" Miho paused. His lips curled into a slow smirk as he tilted his head toward Armi. "You''re right... hahaha..." The soft laugh grew a little louder, filled with amusement, not mockery. "Then we should..." He stepped forward, his shoes echoing softly against the wooden floor. "...meet them tomorrow." His voice dropped just enough to send a chill down some spines. "Give them a night to rest. Let them taste victory a little longer. Let them think they''ve made it to the mountain." He turned to face the whiteboard where plays and scouting notes were once scribbled, now completely erased with a single swipe. "And then... we show them that there is still a mountain to climb." Armi gave a small laugh of his own. "Damn, Captain... you sound like a movie villain." Miho glanced over his shoulder. "Good. Then let this be a new act." The team exploded into excited chatter. The room was alive againnot just with tension now, but anticipation. The game wasn''t over. It was just beginning. ...... Street Court C Somewhere in Virginia The air crackled with energy cheers, shouts, and the squeak of sneakers cutting across the rough concrete. A loose crowd of kids had formed around a half-court game as the orange sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light on the scene. At the center of the action was a boy 13 years old, wiry and wild-eyed, moving with the kind of fearless confidence that only comes from playing countless street games. He zipped forward, basketball low and tight against the court, his crossover so smooth it was almost invisible. His defender, a taller teen, stumbled trying to keep up. "Tch! Damn!" the teen grunted, caught completely off guard. But the boy wasn''t stopping. He charged toward the basket, and a much taller center stepped in front of him, arms out like a wall, ready to stuff the shot. The boy took off into the air. Thentwist. A fake. A mid-air switch that sent the center flying the wrong way. "OHHHHHHH!" the crowd exploded in amazement. The ball spun off the boy''s fingers in one clean, practiced motion Swish. Right through the net. From the sideline, someone shouted, half-laughing, half-screaming: "DAVAS!!" The boy landed, panting hard, a tiny cut above his right eyebrow and sweat dripping from his temple. His little bit gold brown eyes gleamed under the sunlight. He turned toward the voice. "What?" he called back, confused. An older kid ran up to him, eyes wide, phone in hand. "The Vorpal Basket team they won. They actually won a match!" Louie Gee Davas blinked, hearing the name like a jolt of lightning. "...What?" he muttered again. The phone was handed to him. A short video played. Ethan Albarado flying down the court. Lucas Graves launching a great shot. The roar of the crowd. No flashy edits. No fancy cuts. Just raw, pure victory. Louie lowered the phone slowly, his gaze distant, expression unreadable. (They really did it... Those guys actually won... even without me...) His jaw tightened. He remembered it clearly Coach Fred Mason, arms crossed, face blank, voice cold. "You''re too skinny, Louie. You''ll get tossed around on the court. We need power, not tricks." Louie spat to the side in disgust. "That damn fatass..." he muttered. But his eyes drifted back to the video. That momentthe shot, the net, the celebrationit replayed in his head like a spark he couldn''t ignore. (If that team can win... without me...) He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. (Then imagine what they could do with me.) And just like that, a smirk broke across his face. Not bitter. But hungry. Focused. Ready. Louie Gee Davas, rejected and underestimated, was done watching from the sidelines. His time was coming. To be continue Chapter 44 - 31: Happy Time Chapter 44: Chapter 31: Happy Time It was 6 PM when Ethan finally arrived home. He stood in front of the door, his heart a little lighter after everything that had happened. He raised his hand and knocked gently. The door opened swiftly. "Ethan, youre here!" his mother, Elle, exclaimed, her face lighting up with warmth. "Im here, Mom," Ethan replied, stepping forward with a tired but genuine smile. Before he could even take a step inside, a tiny voice rang out from the hallway. "Big brother!!" Anna, his 10-year-old sister, came running full speed, practically jumping into Ethans arms. Laughing, Ethan scooped her up and hugged her tight. "Hey, slow down or youll knock me over," he chuckled, then gently patted her head. After putting her down, Ethan looked around the living room, only to realize someone was missing. "Wheres Dad?" Elle sighed lightly and replied, "Your father was called in by the company. Something urgent. He had to present a report on one of the teams hes handling." Ethan nodded in understanding. "Right... I almost forgot Dads a sports analyst now for BACBasketball Asian Company." He walked further into the house, Anna tugging at his sleeve. As he sat down on the couch, he sank into thought. (Now that I think about it... BAC... no way.) His golden eyes darkened with realization. (The CEO of BAC is... Romanov Graves. Lucas mother. A former WNBA champion who turned into a sports empire queen. And his father...) He clenched his fists slightly. (Lucas father was a former pro player too. The one in a coma. And Im pretty sure... he ended up like that because of those people.) He leaned back on the couch, letting out a frustrated breath. "Tsk..." (What a problem... They probably wont move on Lucas yet... not until the Regional Tournament. But its just a matter of time. Once he starts shaking the system too much... theyll come.) His eyes narrowed as his mind laid out the basketball tournament system of this worldthis basketball-driven world . District Tournament C Local matches between nearby schools.Regional Tournament C The best from the districts clash.State Championship C The elite of the elite face off for ultimate recognition. And beyond that... Inter-School TournamentsHigh School Basketball LeagueNational School Basketball Championship All paths led to national fame or destruction if you messed with the wrong forces. ..... Ethan thought again, softer this time. (Those people... they decide what everyone thinks. The scouts, the media, the ranking systems. They want everything to go as expected, no surprises. But Lucas? Hes different. Unpredictable. A player who can change the whole game. And they know it.) (No matter what, I wont let them destroy Lucass chance. Not again. Not like how they ruined his dad...) From the hallway, Annas voice called. "Big brother! Come eat! Mom made curry tonight!" Ethan smiled faintly and stood up. "Coming." But deep down, he already knew This victory? It was only the beginning. ..... As the door clicked shut behind him, Lucas Graves stepped inside his home. The soft hum of the evening was a welcome contrast to the whirlwind of excitement he had just left behind at the gym. He exhaled deeply, the adrenaline from the game slowly fading. The cheers, the pressureit all seemed like a distant memory now. "Im home..." he muttered, letting his bag fall to the floor. Just as he closed his eyes to soak in the quiet, a voice called out from the hallway. "Lucas!" Turning toward the sound, he saw his 15-year-old sister, Charlotte Graves, standing with a playful smirk on her face. Charlotte, only a year older than him, had always been someone Lucas admired, both for her skills on the court and her no-nonsense attitude. "Sis..." Lucas greeted, a slight smile pulling at his lips. Charlotte walked up to him, messing with his hair. "You won, huh?" she said, her tone teasing but warm. "You saw it?" Lucas asked, feeling a little shy as he brushed his hair back into place. Charlotte chuckled. "Of course, I saw it. Its all over my phone," she said, holding up her phone and showing him the video of the game. Despite it being 2010, the technology in this world was a little more advanced than Ethans previous life. The video was crystal clear, and the cheers from the crowd were practically tangible. Lucas felt his cheeks heat up slightly. "Umm... how is it?" Charlotte tilted her head and stared at him with an almost mischievous glint in her eyes. "Youve always said you didnt have any basketball talent, right? That you didnt inherit the family genes..." "Shut it, its embarrassing," Lucas muttered, feeling the warmth in his face spread. He turned his head away to avoid her teasing smile. Charlotte burst into laughter, her voice light and carefree. "Hahaha, seriously, Lucas, how did you become so good? Just last year your skills were, well, a little" "Ahem, ahem," Lucas cleared his throat dramatically, trying to change the subject. "I just, you know, didnt give up." He flashed a thumbs-up, trying to play it off with an overly confident grin. Charlotte narrowed her eyes playfully. "Hmmm, sounds suspicious," she said, raising an eyebrow. Lucas chuckled nervously but didnt push back. He wasnt quite ready to tell her about the Absolute Mimicry ability just yet. He needed time to understand it himself. Charlotte leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Anyway... that number 20..." Lucas blinked in surprise. "20? Oh, you mean Ethan?" Charlotte nodded eagerly, her expression softening as she thought back on the game. "He was so good. The way he passed, how he controlled the flow of the game... Even though I couldnt hear much because of the noise, I could still tell how he played. It was..." She trailed off, a light blush creeping up on her cheeks. Lucas smiled a little, recognizing the admiration in her voice. "Mesmerizing, right?" he asked, his grin widening. Charlottes cheeks deepened in color, and she quickly turned her head to hide it. "Ahem... yeah," she muttered, still flustered but clearly impressed. There was a slight pause before Charlotte spoke again, her voice softer now. "I think he has something special. Not just his skills, but how he leads the team. I havent seen a player like him in a long time..." Lucas couldnt help but agree. He had watched Ethan in the game, not just as a teammate but as someone who seemed to have an innate understanding of the game. "I mean, I think he might be a little better than you." She smirked at him. Lucas groaned, throwing his hands up. "Oh, come on! Dont rub it in!" Before Lucas could respond, Charlottes playful tone returned. "You know, youre not the only basketball player in this house. I was the one who almost led the Thunderhawks to the championship last year." Lucas raised an eyebrow, surprised at the sudden change in subject. "Yeah, I know. You were amazing last year." Charlotte chuckled before moving over to the couch. As she sat down, her phone buzzed, and she checked it quickly. "By the way, the Thunderhawks have a big match coming up. Coach wants me to be at my best. So, no distractions!" she added, with a wink. Lucas nodded. He always respected his sisters dedication. "Got it, no distractions. But if youre gonna keep leading the Thunderhawks to near championships every year, you should at least let me practice against you sometime." Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "Against me? Are you sure you can handle that? Youre not ready for the Thunderhawks defense." Lucas smirked confidently. "Try me." Charlotte laughed "Well see about that, little brother." Then she tapped her jersey with a proud smile. The number 8 had deep meaning for Charlotte, not just as a symbol of her skills, but as a gift from her father the jersey she wore with honor and pride. ..... Meanwhile, in the Secret Room... A heavy silence hung in the air as the meeting of the higher-ups continued. The dimly lit room, hidden from the public eye, was filled with tension. At the center of it all sat a bald old man with a cold, calculating gaze. He stared at the door, waiting for the report. The door creaked open, and a 30-year-old man stepped inside, his face stoic but with a hint of confidence. He moved into the room, his steps deliberate. As he approached, the bald old man didnt look up immediately, but when he did, he spoke in a tone that left no room for hesitation. "So... how is it? What did you come up with?" The bald mans voice was steady, but there was a sharpness to it that made the air in the room even heavier. The 30-year-old man stood tall, nodding slightly, then responded calmly. "There is nothing to worry about. That team is still weak. They wont harm the system..." He said, a confident assurance in his words. A different voice, this time a man with a cold tone, echoed from the side of the room. "You better be right. We cant let anyone ruin the systemthe plan..." His eyes narrowed with concern, but the worry in his voice was masked by his attempts to stay composed. Before the 30-year-old could respond, a woman in her 50s, her features sharp and stern, spoke up with a voice that had authority. "Of course we cant. All the money weve invested, all the influence weve gathereditll be worth nothing if the system is destroyed." Her words were laced with a sense of dread, the fear of failure hanging in her tone. Sitting in the back, a man in his 40s lazily sipped from a glass of wine, his relaxed demeanor in stark contrast to the tension filling the room. He glanced around the table, smirking as he took another slow sip. "Now, calm down, dear friends..." His voice was almost dismissive, as if he didnt feel the same weight of concern. "Everything is going according to plan. The bet, the gambling, everything is in place and running smoothly. It will run for the rest of our lives." He took another sip, savoring the moment, before leaning back in his chair. His eyes gleamed with a twisted sense of satisfaction. "But I just hope someone doesnt end up like that bastard who almost ruined everything for us." His smile was wicked, a cold chuckle following his words. The atmosphere in the room shifted, as though the threat of failure was something they all feared, yet were too complacent to fully address. Their plans, carefully laid out, were in motion, and any disruptionno matter how smallcould unravel everything they had worked for. The 30-year-old man, who had been the source of the recent news, remained stoic, his mind clearly focused on something beyond just the meeting. His thoughts circled back to what was at stakenot just the system, but something deeper, something that had the potential to shift the balance of power forever. "Well handle it," he said quietly, making sure his voice carried the weight of his words. "We wont let anything disrupt the plan." And with that, the room fell into a heavy silence once more, each individual reflecting on their roles and the unseen stakes that hung in the balance. Outside the room, the world continued to turn, unaware of the dangerous game being played behind closed doors. But those in this secret room knew that their time was limited. Every move mattered. Every decision could make or break the future they had builtno matter who stood in their way. To be continue Chapter 45 - 32: Conflict Chapter 45: Chapter 32: Conflict July 3, 2010 C Oak Hill Academy, Mouth of Wilson, Virginia The day after their game against Orlando, Ethan Albarado was walking down the familiar hallway of Oak Hill Academy, making his way to class. The usual buzz of students chatting filled the air, but there was something different today. His thoughts lingered on the recent game, where Vorpal Basket had managed to pull off an unexpected victory. As Ethan pushed open the door to his classroom, his gaze swept over the room. There, sitting in their usual spots, were Coonie Smith, Kai Mendoza, and Jeremy Park. They were all 2nd-year middle school students, just like him. Coonie was leaning back in his chair, casually chatting with Kai, while Jeremy was scribbling something in his notebook. Ethan didnt see Lucas, though. He wasnt surprisedLucas often arrived late, especially when it came to these types of mornings. Ethans lips twitched into a small smile. "I remember this from the novel..." he thought, reflecting on the scene in the original storyline. He could picture it perfectly: Lucas standing out in the hallway, trying to compose himself before walking into class. Ethan took his seat near the window and pulled out his notebook, feeling the usual rush of energy that came before a big game, despite the fact that today was just another ordinary school day. The quiet chatter of his classmates seemed distant as his mind wandered back to the Orlando game. Coonie, who had noticed Ethans distracted look, smirked from his seat. "Almost late, huh?" Coonie said, half-teasing. His voice was smooth, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He seemed to be enjoying Ethans obvious lack of focus. Ethan shot a grin back, raising an eyebrow in mock offense. "Almost but not late," he replied, leaning back in his chair and glancing around the room. As he spoke, he scanned the doorway again, but Lucas still hadnt arrived. Kai Mendoza, who was sitting across from them, gave a slight chuckle and nudged Coonie. "Maybe Lucas is already in the hallway, trying to sneak in" "Hell be here in a minute," Ethan said, leaning forward, trying to dismiss the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind. He wasnt just waiting for Lucas to show up; he was bracing himself for the next phase of this journey. One that was bound to involve more than just the basketball games. As the classroom settled down, the teacher, Mr. Erwin, stepped in. His graying hair and serious expression instantly commanded the attention of the students. He had that no-nonsense aura that made everyone sit up straight, but even with his strict demeanor, there was a subtle warmth to him that allowed the class to get away with the occasional moment of humor. Lucas, still sweating from whatever had caused his late arrival, burst through the door with a sheepish expression plastered across his face. His disheveled hair was even more out of place than usual, and his uniform was a little more wrinkled than it shouldve been. He looked around, breathlessly catching his breath, and then, in his usual dramatic flair, he shouted toward the front of the room. Then Ethan couldnt help but grin as he watched the scene unfold before him. Lucas, looking disheveled and clearly out of breath, barged into the classroom with his usual energy. He looked like hed sprinted halfway across the school just to get there. His hair was slightly messy, his shirt damp with sweat, and his cheeks flushed from the rush. "Sorry Im late, teacher!!" Lucass voice was full of genuine, playful apology, and the enthusiasm with which he shouted it almost made it seem like he was more excited than regretful. The whole class immediately looked toward him, and there was a collective pause as Mr. Erwins eyes narrowed in mock disapproval. "YOURE LATE, GRAVES!" Mr. Erwins voice was stern, but his eyes had that twinkle of mischief, like he was only playing along with Lucass antics. "Go stand outside the classroom!" Lucas froze for a moment, blinking in disbelief. "Sir, yes sir!" He snapped to attention, as though he were part of a military drill, his voice full of exaggerated obedience. The entire class erupted into laughter. Ethan, who was sitting closest to the door, couldnt help but chuckle, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Coonie, who had been casually leaning back in his chair, gave a loud, half-amused, half-annoyed sigh. "Idiot..." he muttered, shaking his head. But even he couldnt suppress the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. Kai, ever the troublemaker, was snickering quietly, almost snorting in his attempt to keep his laughter under control. Even Jeremy, who usually kept to himself, had a slight grin tugging at his mouth as he shook his head at the spectacle. Lucas stood by the door for a few moments, then did an exaggerated about-face and gave a salute to the class before stepping outside. He knew this was all in good fun, and he had been in this exact scenario enough times to know it was part of the routine. As soon as the door closed behind him, the laughter grew louder, echoing off the classroom walls. It was one of those rare, carefree moments that Ethan and his friends could appreciate, a lighthearted break from the tension building in the background. Despite everything going on with the team and the looming challenges ahead, this small moment of humor reminded Ethan of how much he appreciated these people. They were all so different, yet in moments like this, they felt united in a way that made everything else seem manageable. After a few seconds, Mr. Erwin looked over at the class, raising an eyebrow, his voice cracking with a slight smile. "Alright, alright. Enough laughing. Focus." But it was clear that even the teacher had a hard time staying serious in the face of Lucass antics. Ethan sat back in his chair, feeling the weight of the day lift slightly. "(As expected of the protagonist of this novel)" he thought, a small, genuine smile crossing his face as he turned his gaze toward the window. For just a moment, things felt normal. And that was exactly what he needed. ..... [After class, they have free time, so they decide to go to the gym.] As the group of teammates walked towards the gym, Ethan couldnt shake the feeling that something was off. The strange sense of uncertainty lingered in the air as they made their way down the hallway. He glanced sideways at Lucas, who had a serious expression on his face. "Ethan..." Lucas said, his voice low, pulling Ethans attention away from the surroundings. "Hmm?" Ethan replied, glancing over at his friend. "I have something to say..." Lucas said, sounding more thoughtful than usual. Before Ethan could respond, they were interrupted by a sudden commotion up ahead. They turned the corner and saw their senior teammatesEvan Cooper, Brandon Young, and Ryan Taylorpanting heavily. Their clothes were disheveled, and they looked like they had just come from an intense workout or a fight. Ethans eyes narrowed as he recognized their fatigued states. "What happened?" he asked, rushing toward them. Josh Turner, the shooting guard, was leaning against the wall, his face displaying a mix of frustration and sadness, his injuries still evident from the previous games. He didnt offer much explanation but just stared at the ground, lost in thought. Evan, the point guard, leaned against the doorframe, struggling to catch his breath. "We ran into some people from Eastgate," he muttered, still gasping. "Those guys... theyre on a different level." Before anyone could say more, a voice cut through the air, sharp and confident. "Are you Ethan Albarado?" a new voice asked, its tone carrying an air of challenge. Ethan turned toward the source of the voice, squinting as he saw a Korean boy who looked to be around their age, his height standing at 58". The boy was dressed in a basketball uniform, and his posture exuded an undeniable air of confidence. "Who are you?" Ethan asked, wary of the strangers sudden approach. The boy grinned, a mixture of cocky and playful. "Im Miho Parkthe captain of the Eastgate Wildcats." At the mention of Eastgate, Ethans mind immediately raced. "(Miho Park?)" he thought. "(No way... the Miho Park? The captain of the Wildcats?)" Ethans mind quickly connected the dots. Miho Park was no ordinary player. The Eastgate Wildcats were a fierce rival team from Boston, known for their high-level play. Miho himself had a reputation for being an outstanding player, someone who had faced off against the best in the region. The appearance of Miho and his team in Mouth of Wilson was unexpected, to say the least. "What did you do to my teammates?" Lucas demanded, his gaze shifting from Miho to the rest of the Eastgate crew, who stood behind him with their arms crossed. It was clear Miho wasnt just here for a friendly visit. Miho shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, them? We were just playing a casual 3v3," he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "But to be honest, I thought it would be more competitive. Instead, we were left disappointed. Their play? Garbage." Davis Conner, the reliable and strong power forward from Eastgate, stepped forward with a bemused look. "Captain, you sound like a villain right now." Miho blinked in mock surprise. "Did I? Hehe, sorry, sorry." He chuckled, clearly unfazed by the tension he had just created. Ethans hands clenched into fists. "You think its funny to disrespect my teammates?" His tone grew darker, as anger began to bubble up inside him. But before he could say more, Armi Hassuf, the shooting guard, who always seemed to be the thoughtful one in their team, gave a slight nod. "Yep, sounds pretty villainous to me." Ethan was confused. "(Why is he here?)" His mind raced. "(Miho Park... the captain of Eastgate Wildcats. Why would they come here now? In the novel, Eastgate didnt make an appearance until much later. Whats going on? Wasnt it supposed to be our loss to the Orlando Hoops that set everything in motion?)" Ethan looked at Miho with narrowed eyes. "( The storys changing because of what happened yesterday. We werent supposed to win against Orlando. But now, it seems like other teams are noticing us. Why is Miho here now, and what does this mean for us moving forward?)" Lucas, glanced at Ethan, his expression unreadable. They both knew that things were getting more complicated. Mihos smirk deepened as he crossed his arms, clearly enjoying the tension he had created. His gaze lingered on Ethan for a moment, and the air between them grew heavy with the weight of his words. "I didnt come here to make enemies," Miho said, his tone still light, but there was a sharp edge hidden beneath his casual demeanor. "But I came here to see what this team was all about. Since you defeated my rival team, the Orlando Hoops... you defeated Alec Storm, my rival." Ethans eyebrows furrowed at the mention of Alec Storm. He hadnt expected this level of attention from Eastgate, let alone from their captain. The Orlando Hoops had been one of the top teams in the area, and defeating them had been a huge win for Vorpal Basket. But to think that it had drawn the attention of a player like Miho, someone so highly regardedthis felt like a whole new level of complication. Miho then turned his gaze toward Ethan, his expression unreadable but still calculating. "They said that if youre here, and Lucas Graves, we would lose..." Mihos words hung in the air like a challenge, the insinuation in his tone unmistakable. It wasnt just about the game yesterday. It was about reputation, about what people expected from Ethan and Lucas, the new faces of the school basketball scene. People were starting to take notice. "What?" Ethan said, his confusion growing as he processed Mihos words. He wasnt sure if Miho was talking about their victory over Orlando or something else entirely. But one thing was clear: Miho was sizing him up, evaluating him like a predator looking at its prey. Mihos eyes flickered with something more intense now, a spark of curiosity that Ethan couldnt quite place. "It seems like everyone trusts you, huh?" Miho said with a knowing smirk. There was an undeniable hint of respect in his voice, but it was wrapped in a layer of challenge. Miho didnt just want to test Ethans ability; he wanted to see if the hype around him was real. "Lets play a game, Ethan. Just us1 on 1." Ethan blinked, surprised by the sudden proposition. The challenge was clear, and the gym seemed to fall silent for a moment as everyone else waited to see what would happen next. Ethans teammates exchanged glances, unsure whether to intervene or stay quiet. They all knew what Miho was asking: a direct confrontation. A chance to test Ethan, to measure his skills in a way no one else had before. "What?" Ethan repeated, still processing Mihos request. He wasnt sure if he was supposed to be flattered or annoyed by the proposition. But one thing was certainMiho Park wasnt the type to back down from a challenge. And now, it seemed like he was pulling Ethan into a personal showdown. To be continue Chapter 46 - 33: Ethan vs Miho (1) Chapter 46: Chapter 33: Ethan vs Miho (1) The gym was quiet, the tension thickening as Ethan and Miho stood facing each other. The moment felt charged, as if the air itself was waiting for something to give. Ethan glanced at Miho, who stood confidently with the basketball in his hands, eyes locked on him with a challenging gleam. "What did you say again?" Ethan asked, his voice slightly incredulous as he tried to wrap his mind around what Miho was suggesting. Miho smirked, unfazed by the question. "I said us one on one." His tone was calm, but there was a clear challenge in his eyes, a playful yet dangerous edge. Ethan raised an eyebrow, not entirely understanding why Miho was so insistent. "I get it, but why?" he asked, genuinely curious about Mihos motivation. Miho tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he spoke with a mixture of respect and amusement. "Because I heard about you... the number 20, blond hair, the one who led your team to victory." He pointed to Ethan with a lazy gesture, as though he already knew what was coming next. "It was you." Ethan felt a flicker of surprise, but he quickly masked it. "How can you be so sure?" he asked, not entirely convinced that Miho had been following his team that closely. Miho casually pointed to Ryan Taylor, who was standing off to the side, still breathing heavily from the earlier 3v3 game with his teammates. "This guy blabbering about how if Ethan was here... my team wouldve been defeated." Ethan let out a soft sigh, rolling his eyes internally. (This playboy...) He knew Ryan liked to talk, but this was a bit much. Still, it wasnt entirely unexpected,Ryan had a habit of letting his mouth run freely. Miho, noticing Ethans reaction, smirked even wider, clearly enjoying the situation. The tension between them was thickening, and Miho wasnt backing down. Lucas, on the other hand, didnt take Mihos attitude lightly. His fiery spirit couldnt stand the unjust treatment of his teammates. Without a second thought, he stepped forward, crossing his arms, his voice firm and unwavering. "Apologize first to our teammates." He wasnt going to let Miho get away with disrespecting their team, especially not after all the effort they had put into the game. Ethan, still processing the situation, glanced at Lucas. He couldnt help but think (This kid... hes really sticking to his guns.) Lucas was always full of energy and righteousness. When he saw something he didnt like, he wouldnt back down. It was one of the reasons Ethan admired him, though it could also be a bit much at times. Coonie, who had been quietly watching the exchange, let out a frustrated sigh and palmed his forehead. "Oh no..." he muttered, realizing where this was going. He knew Lucas too well to think this wouldnt escalate quickly. Kai Mendoza, standing a bit farther back, couldnt help it. He burst out laughing quietly under his breath. "Oh, this is going to be good," he muttered to Jeremy, who was shaking his head, knowing this was probably the last thing they needed right now. "Were really doing this, huh?" Jeremy just sighed, rubbing his temples. He was used to Lucas sense of justice, but even he wasnt sure how well this would go down. Miho raised an eyebrow at Lucass demand, his expression shifting from casual to mildly annoyed. "What did you say?" His voice was laced with an edge, and he took a step closer to Lucas, clearly trying to assert dominance. "You want me to apologize? To you?" Lucas didnt flinch, meeting Mihos gaze head-on. "Yes," he said, his tone unwavering. "You should apologize to our team first. You disrespected them by treating the 3v3 like a joke." There was no room for negotiation in his words. He wasnt going to let Miho get away with belittling their effort. They had earned their victory, and Lucas wasnt about to let anyone take that from them. Ryan, Brandon, and Evan, who had been standing quietly off to the side, exchanged uneasy glances. They werent sure whether to back Lucas up or to stay out of it. Ryan, in particular, looked a bit awkward, like he wasnt sure if Lucas sudden confrontation was going to make things worse or not. Evan, still panting from the earlier game, gave a resigned shrug. "Can we just focus on playing? I dont think Miho is going to apologize." Mihos eyes narrowed, clearly unamused. The playful energy he had been exuding moments ago was now gone, replaced with a quiet intensity. He had never been one to back down from a challenge, and he wasnt about to let Lucas tell him what to do. "Fine," Miho said, finally breaking the tension with a low chuckle. "If you want me to apologize, how about we settle this on the court?" His challenge hung in the air like an invitation, daring Lucas to take it further. Ethan, sensing the brewing storm, stepped in before things could escalate any further. He turned to Lucas, placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "Let me handle this, Lucas," Ethan said, his voice steady. He didnt want things to get out of hand. They had a bigger game to focus on, and Miho wasnt going to get under his skin. Lucas hesitated, still fiery but clearly trusting Ethan to take care of it. "Fine.." Ethan nodded. "Dont worry. Ive got this." He turned back to Miho, his gaze firm and resolute. "Alright, Miho. You want a 1v1? Fine" Mihos grin returned, but it wasnt just a smirk now, it was a challenge, one that Ethan wasnt going to back away from. "Im looking forward to it, Ethan. Lets see if you can live up to the hype." .... The gym had fallen into a tense silence as Miho Park and Ethan Albarado stood face to face, the air thick with unspoken challenges. Their teams were gathered around, watching with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. Miho broke the silence, his voice calm but carrying an edge. "Captain, Ill be the referee," he said, addressing Davis Conner, the towering power forward of Eastgate Wildcats. But before anything could go further, Armi Hassuf, the ever-thoughtful shooting guard of the Wildcats, interjected. "It should be me," he said, his tone suggesting he was more than capable of handling the responsibility. Miho glanced from Davis to Armi, his eyes narrowing as he let out an exaggerated sigh. "Silent." He wasnt in the mood for a back-and-forth. "Ill let Ethan choose whos going to be the referee." Miho gestured toward Ethan, tossing the decision onto him as though it was just another part of the game. Ethan felt the weight of the moment. Both teams were watching, waiting for his decision. After a moments pause, he looked over at Evan, who had been standing off to the side, still catching his breath from the earlier game. Then Ethan thought for a moment, assessing his options. He knew Evan was the most level-headed of his team, and considering the tension already brewing, it would be best if someone like Evan was in control. He turned to the Captain, his eyes locking with Evans. "You be the referee, Captain," Ethan said, his voice steady. Evan, still catching his breath from the earlier game, looked up, slightly taken aback. "Me?" he asked, clearly not expecting to be put on the spot like this. He glanced over at the others, but Ethans gaze was unwavering. Ethan nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah, youre the most neutral one here, Evan. Itll be fair if you do it." Evan looked around the room at his teammates, who were all either smirking or giving him encouraging nods, before sighing in resignation. "Fine." With that, he moved to the side, getting into position. Everyone was now waiting for the game to officially begin, but Miho had one more thing in mind. He wasnt about to jump into the action without having a little fun first. "Now," Miho said, his voice filled with the same playful yet cocky tone that had been present since the start of the encounter. "Lets shoot from the free-throw line. One of us is going to start first, right?" Ethan smirked, knowing exactly where Miho was going with this. He wasnt in the mood for traditional warm-ups. Instead, he wanted to shake things up a little. "Nope, how about rock-paper-scissors?" Ethan suggested, folding his arms. "We can save time and get right to it." Miho, momentarily taken aback by the suggestion, tilted his head to the side. "Hmmm..." He clearly hadnt expected that response. It wasnt the usual way to determine the start of a one-on-one game, but he wasnt going to back down now. "You know, that sounds pretty good," he admitted after a brief pause. "Now that I think about it, youre right. Lets do it." With a grin, Ethan raised his hand and got into position. "Rock, paper, scissors. Best of three." Miho, with his usual self-assurance, mirrored Ethans stance. "Lets make it interesting, then," he replied with a sly smile, already preparing to challenge Ethan in this different, more unconventional way. The rest of the players, including both teams, stood quietly by, watching the small exchange with amusement. This wasnt the typical way to start a serious one-on-one game, but everyone knew that Ethan and Miho werent about to play by the usual rules. As the tension in the room thickened, all eyes were on the two players, waiting for them to determine who would start this game of skill and pride. Ethans mind was focused, but his body was relaxed. He had been in situations like this before where the start didnt matter, but the finish certainly did. This was just a small part of proving who had control on the court. And so, with a playful challenge hanging in the air, the first round of rock-paper-scissors began. "Rock, paper, scissors!" they both shouted, the game of fate beginning in a way nobody expected. ........ As Both Ethan and Miho threw their hands forward in sync, each watching the other intently. There was a momentary pause before they revealed their choices. Ethan: rock Miho: paper "Ha!" Miho grinned widely, his eyes twinkling with the thrill of victory. "Looks like I won the first round!" He said, his voice dripping with playful arrogance as he gave Ethan a teasing look. Ethan, who had been confident moments ago, only sighed in response. "Yeah, yeah. You got lucky." Miho chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. "Luck has nothing to do with it. Its all skill." The players from both teams, who had been watching eagerly, couldnt help but laugh at the banter between the two. Even though this was a game of rock-paper-scissors, it felt like the start of a real showdown. Everyone was on edge, waiting for what would come next. Evan, who had been quietly observing as the referee, motioned for them to continue. "Alright, alright, enough with the trash talk. One more round. Get it over with," he said, trying to maintain order. The match wasnt even officially started yet, and they were already getting sidetracked. "Fine," Ethan muttered, rolling his eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Miho had gotten the upper hand, but that wasnt going to shake his confidence. "Rock, paper, scissors!" they both shouted again, launching their hands forward with intensity. This time, both players threw their choices with even more focus. Ethans eyes were narrowed, determined not to let Miho walk away with another win so easily. Ethan: paper Miho: scissors Miho laughed out loud as he raised his hand triumphantly. "Two in a row! Looks like its my game, Ethan." He was practically beaming with pride. Ethan just shook his head. "Alright, alright, you win. As the game was about to begin, Ethan silently reached out to his system. He needed to know more about his opponent. In his mind, he spoke to his basketball AI system. "(System, can you scan Mihos attributes? His status?)" The systems voice responded promptly, calm and clear, as always. "(Affirmative, host. Scanning now...)" Ethan waited as the system processed the information. He needed to know what he was up against. A high-level player like Miho could be a serious challenge, and Ethan wasnt the type to go into a game without knowing everything he could about his competition. Miho Park (Point Guard) Level: Elite Core Attributes: [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 13 Layup Skill: 11 Dunk Skill: 7 Dribbling Skill: 14 Passing Skill: 12 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 14 Blocking Ability: 10 Steal Skill: 15 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 12 Endurance: 13 Speed: 14 Effectiveness: Silent Shadow: Miho has the ability to shut down offensive plays without ever drawing attention to himself, slipping into the background while executing precise steals and locks on opposing players. Quickstrike Instinct: Known for explosive plays in transition, Miho is able to capitalize on any lapse in defense, turning turnovers into fast-break opportunities with deadly efficiency. Awakened Effectiveness: Tempests Edge: In high-pressure moments, Mihos focus sharpens to an incredible degree. His speed and reaction time are heightened as he reads the game at an accelerated pace, making him nearly impossible to defend when he shifts into "Tempests Edge," a state of heightened awareness and reflexes. During this time, his defense is virtually impenetrable, and his scoring ability becomes lethal, especially on breakaways and contested shots. Ethans mind raced as the system presented Miho Parks status, his gaze sharpening as he processed the information. The sheer magnitude of Mihos attributes hit him like a ton of bricks. Miho wasnt just any player, he was an Elite level talent. "Holy shit, hes good..." Ethan thought, feeling a mixture of awe and caution. "Similar to Alec Storm... but different." Mihos Shooting Accuracy (13) was phenomenal. Ethan knew this meant Miho could score from anywhere on the court with deadly precision. His Dribbling Skill (14) was likely the reason he could slip past defenders so effortlessly, and with Passing Skill (12), he would be able to set up his teammates in ways Ethan might not even see coming. But what truly set Miho apart were his Defensive Attributes. Defense (14), Steal Skill (15), and Blocking Ability (10) meant that Miho could lock down almost anyone, and if Ethan wasnt careful, Miho would snatch the ball away in an instant. His Silent Shadow ability made him a stealthy defender, always lurking in the background, shutting down plays before anyone could even realize it. The Quickstrike Instinct was even more dangerous, allowing him to capitalize on turnovers, turning defense into offense at breakneck speed. And then, the real kicker: Tempests Edge a heightened state of awareness and reflexes that made Miho nearly impossible to defend in crucial moments. Ethan could only imagine how tough it would be to play against him in one of those high-pressure situations. "This guy... no wonder hes the captain of the Eastgate Wildcats." Ethan thought, biting back a grin. "Hes not just good. Hes damn good." However, Ethan wasnt about to back down. He was no stranger to tough opponents, and Mihos talent only made him more determined to show what he was capable of. He had the Basketball System, after all, and if there was one thing Ethan knew, it was how to turn his opponents moves against them. With a deep breath, Ethan stood tall, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Miho, who was still grinning with the cocky confidence of someone who knew they were about to dominate. "Ive got to be careful... I cant let him get the ball easily. Ill have to watch his every move." Ethan thought, steeling himself for the upcoming showdown. Mihos eyes gleamed as he raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the mental battle. "Ready to lose, Ethan?" Miho said with an arrogant smirk, already dribbling the ball in his hands with an effortless rhythm. Ethan cracked his neck and gave Miho a confident smile. "Well see about that." The game was on. To be continue Chapter 47 - 34: Ethan vs Miho (2) Chapter 47: Chapter 34: Ethan vs Miho (2) Ethans POV I stood on the court, eyes locked onto Miho, who casually dribbled the ball in front of me, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Be ready," Miho said, his voice playful, but I could feel the sharpness behind it. Like a blade wrapped in silk. I narrowed my eyes, watching his every movement like a hawk. My knees were bent slightly, hands loose and ready. I thought to myself, (I may not have the Absolute Mimicry ability like Lucas... but I dont need it. I have the best weaponThe Basketball System.) Then Miho made his move. He crossed over to the left But I didnt bite. "(Fake.)" I mirrored his shift, staying in front of him. My body moved with clarity, like I had already seen the motion before it even happened. Miho raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Hmm... you think you can lock me down?" He stepped back a little, regaining his rhythm, dribbling smoothly again. "You mightve locked down Alec Storm," he added with a chuckle, "but you had teammates then. This? This is one-on-one." His tone was sharper this time, more serious. Then without warning, he sidestepped lightning fast to his right, planted, and rose up for a shot. I lunged forward with a hand, but I was a split-second too late Swish. The ball sailed clean through the net. Miho landed gracefully, brushing a strand of hair from his face with one hand. "When it comes to 1v1," he said, confidence radiating off him, "Im the best." I clenched my jaw slightly, not angry but focused. Across the court, Lucas stood among our teammates, eyes wide with awe. "That was amazing..." Lucas whispered under his breath, watching Mihos flawless movement, the way he created space like a veteran. Even Brandon, still sore from earlier, let out a low whistle. "He really is fast..." But I wasnt shaken. Not even close. (The faster he is... the clearer his rhythm. And the clearer his rhythm, the easier I can break it.) I got the ball now. My turn. I glanced at Miho and smirked. "Hope youre ready, best 1v1 player." This was only the beginning. ...... [Flashback C The Day After the Orlando Hoops Victory] Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, towel around his neck, still feeling the burn in his legs from the previous game. The roar of the crowd and the adrenaline of victory still echoed in his head. Then [DING!] A notification echoed in his mind. System Reward: Victory against Orlando Hoops C Unexpected Outcome You have received: 100 Upgrade Points (UP), 300 Shop Points (SP) Ethans eyes widened. "Perfect timing," he whispered. He mentally opened his basketball system. [Basketball Power System] Name: Ethan Albarado Level: Rookie Upgrade Points (UP): 100 Shop Points (SP): 600 .... [Core Attributes] [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 11 Layup Skill: 4 Dunk Skill: 3 Dribbling Skill: 14 Passing Skill: 5 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 3 Blocking Ability: 3 Steal Skill: 4 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 8 Endurance: 4 Speed: 9 (Base 4 +5 upgraded) [Skills:] Basic Power Shot Basic Precision Pass Basic Dribble Magic Johnson Passing Vision (Intermediate) Playmakers Vision (Advanced) Ethan leaned back, deep in thought. "Nows the time to grow. Im not like LucasI cant copy moves. But Ive got this system. This is my way to reach the top." He considered the balance between offense, defense, and physical endurance. Thenhe made his decision. ... ???? Offensive Attributes (To score & create chances): +4 Shooting Accuracy (11 15) [8 UP] +5 Layup Skill (4 9) [10 UP] +3 Dunk Skill (3 6) [6 UP] +3 Dribbling Skill (14 17) [6 UP] Defensive Attributes (Dont get cooked): +4 Steal Skill (4 8) [8 UP] +3 Defense (3 6) [6 UP] Physical Attributes (Stay fresh): +3 Stamina (8 14) [6 UP] Total: 100 UP used "I decided with this..." Ethan whispered, feeling the subtle surge of power ripple through his limbs. His muscles felt stronger. His vision clearer. His reactions sharper. He stood and grabbed his ball. "Whoevers next... Im ready." ... [Present C July 3, 2010 C Basketball Court] Miho had just drained his first shot. The ball swished effortlessly through the net. Ethan blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. "Dont be too dazed," Miho said coolly, spinning the ball on his finger. "Or its gonna get stolen." Ethan stayed silent, focused. Miho then added casually, "Anyway...first to 21. Ones and twos are the winner. Lets settle this like real hoopers right." Ethan nodded, his focus sharp as he locked eyes with Miho. "Alright." His mind was already racing. (How should I steal the ball from him?) Ethan crouched into a defensive stance, watching Miho closely as he took a few dribbles. The tension in the air was thickthis was a battle of skill, speed, and strategy. He had to be smart. Miho had already shown that he was quick with his handles and shots. As Ethan observed Mihos every move, the other players were watching closely from the sidelines, including Ryan and Lucas. Ryan, with his arms crossed, glanced over at Lucas, who was standing next to him, intently watching the game. "Do you think Ethans gonna win?" Ryan asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Lucas didnt look away from the game as he answered. "He will." Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so sure? I mean, thats Miho. You know Miho..." Lucass response was simple and direct. "No, I dont." Ryans eyes widened in disbelief. "You dont know who Miho is? Miho Park? The captain of the Eastgate Wildcats? Hes been known across the region as a Korean prodigy. Hes one of the top players in the area! You really dont know him?" Lucas shook his head. "Yeah... I dont know who he is." Ryans eyes went wide with shock. "This guy..." he muttered under his breath, clearly surprised by Lucass response. Lucas, however, didnt seem fazed. He glanced at Miho, who was performing a slick crossover dribble, then back at Ryan. "Even if he is a Korean prodigy, hes still gonna lose against Ethan." Ryan gave him a confused look. "Why do you have so much faith in him?" Lucas didnt hesitate. "Because we played with Ethan." Ryan looked at him for a moment, processing his words. "Its just one game," he pointed out. But Lucass voice was steady and full of conviction as he looked directly at Ryan. "But that one game won us after losing so many times." Ryans eyes widened slightly as the weight of Lucass words hit him. (Hes right, isnt he? That game really did change everything. Ethan was the one who turned it around for us.) Lucas continued. "And because of Ethan, we won." Ryan nodded slowly, still taking it in. But then he grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Nope, you also did your part... I mean, the skills you showed back then. You can mimic peoples abilities. Youre a monster too." Lucas laughed awkwardly, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He scratched his head. "Heh, well... hehehe." Ryan chuckled, not pressing him further. He glanced back toward the game, where Miho was now setting up for his next move. The game was about to get serious. "(This is gonna be one for the books.)" Ryan thought as he turned his attention back to Ethan, knowing that whatever happened, this match was going to test both of them in ways they hadnt experienced before. ... [Back to the Game] Miho took a few dribbles, studying Ethans movements, and then with a sudden flick of his wrist, executed a smooth Shamgod dribble. The ball flew from one hand to the other in a swift motion, causing it to momentarily seem out of Ethans reach before Miho quickly snatched it back, using the dribble to throw off Ethans timing. "I practice this technique against Alec Storm, but it looks like Im gonna use it on you." Miho smirked, clearly pleased with himself. Ethan immediately recognized the move and locked his gaze on the ball, trying to keep his feet quick. (A Shamgod... Thats a nasty move. ) Ethans mind raced as he analyzed the move in real-time. (The key to the Shamgod is the deception. Its designed to make your defender lunge one way while you pull the ball back and go the other. If I overcommit, Ill be stuck out of position.) As Miho pulled off the move again, Ethan remained calm. He had been in situations where he was forced to adapt to skilled players, but Miho was definitely pushing him to his limits. (Focus. Dont bite on the fake.) Ethan kept his feet planted, his eyes tracking Mihos every motion, anticipating that Miho might try to use the Shamgod to break past him again. Miho made another quick flick of the wrist with the ball, a blatant attempt to draw Ethan in. The ball was headed towards his left hand, then rapidly switched to his right. It was almost too quick to follow. But Ethan, with the instincts he had built over countless games, resisted the temptation to jump for the steal or shift his weight too far in any direction. He stayed low, on his toes, watching Mihos movements. Miho then took a quick step back, sizing up the situation. He knew Ethan had read his move and wasnt falling for it. He wasnt going to get the easy breakaway he was hoping for, but this didnt faze him. With a smirk, Miho spoke up again. "Not bad, Ethan. But Im not just going to hand you this win. Lets see how you handle this next move." Mihos confidence only fueled Ethans resolve. (Alright, Miho. Youve got your tricks, but Ive got my own.) Ethan didnt just need to stop Mihos moves; he needed to outplay him, find a way to counter. (I cant just react. I need to anticipate, get inside his head, and use the space.) He didnt know it yet, but this one-on-one game was quickly becoming a battle of willpower. As Miho prepared for another move, Ethans mind drifted back to his previous life as Jonathan Brandit. He had spent countless hours studying basketball tactics, analyzing game footage, and memorizing every move that could give him an edge. While the Shamgod was an advanced technique, it wasnt invincible. Ethans mind raced as he replayed the footage of past games and the countless drills hed watched in his previous life. He remembered somethingthe Shamgod was about creating an illusion of speed and breaking the defenders balance. But there was a critical flaw that Miho was missing: the lack of control when transitioning from the dribble to the move. Ethans eyes sharpened as Miho attempted another Shamgod. This time, Mihos left hand flicked the ball behind him, aiming to pull it into the right. Ethan was ready. (I see it now... Hes taking too much time to set up the move. The balls going from hand to hand, and thats the opening I need.) Ethan didnt need to move first. Instead, he planted his feet, watching Mihos wrist and hand movements. As Miho tried to set up the Shamgod, he overexerted himself, creating a brief moment of weakness. The ball wasnt completely under his control during the transition. The shift from his left hand to right wasnt as seamless as it appeared. Ethan anticipated the exact moment Mihos hand would disconnect from the ball to switch sides. In one swift motion, Ethan lunged forward, reaching out to swipe the ball with his left hand, exploiting the very moment when Miho thought he had full control. Mihos eyes widened as Ethan snatched the ball cleanly from his hand. For a split second, Miho was caught off guard, unable to react fast enough. The timing was perfect. Ethan, having studied the game so meticulously in his past life as Jonathan, was now able to use that knowledge to outsmart Miho, just as he had outsmarted opponents before. He knew how crucial timing and rhythm were in basketball. And now, it was working in his favor. "Gotcha," Ethan said under his breath, barely able to contain his excitement. He took a quick dribble and moved toward the hoop, ready to capitalize on the opening. The crowd, especially Lucas and Ryan and Evan, were watching with bated breath. Ethan had just cracked Mihos technique, finding the flaw that even Miho hadnt noticed. Then Miho snapped out of his surprise, quickly trying to recover his positioning, but Ethan had already gained momentum. "What the... how..." Miho muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with disbelief. Ethan didnt waste any time responding. He grinned, his focus sharp as ever, not even looking back at Miho. "Im Ethan, thats how." To be continue Chapter 48 - 35: Ethan vs Miho (3) Chapter 48: Chapter 35: Ethan vs Miho (3) Ethan didnt waste any time responding. He grinned, his focus sharp as ever, not even looking back at Miho. "Im Ethan, thats how." The words were simple, but there was a weight to them. This was more than just a one-on-one game; this was about proving that even without the flashiest technique or the most impressive skillset, raw determination and smart play could lead to victory. Ethans first step toward the hoop was swift, followed by another burst of speed. His mind was already calculating the next move. He knew Miho would try to close the gap, but this wasnt just about the play; it was about maintaining control and not letting his opponent regain his rhythm. He dribbled once more, then took a quick step back, using his newfound space to set up a perfect jumper. Miho, still recovering, leaped toward him, but it was too late. Ethan released the ball in one fluid motion. Swish. The ball sailed cleanly through the net, and Ethan landed smoothly, his eyes locking with Mihos in a quiet challenge. The crowd was silent for a brief moment before breaking into murmurs of awe. Even Lucas and others, who were watching intently from the sidelines, couldnt help but be impressed. Miho, now visibly frustrated but determined, wiped the sweat from his brow and gritted his teeth. He had underestimated Ethan. His confidence had led him to believe that his Shamgod technique, honed over years of practice, would be enough to overpower anyone. But Ethan had proven him wronghis swift reaction and keen basketball IQ had caught Miho completely off guard. Mihos voice was laced with frustration, but there was also a fierce determination in his words. "I dont know how you managed to counter it... but I wont let it slide. What you did to me?" Miho took a step back, adjusting his posture as he prepared for the next move. "Youre gonna pay for that, Ethan." Evan Cooper, the captain of Vorpal Basket, stood off to the side as the referee. He couldnt help but feel a twinge of awe as he watched Ethan. "(Ethan is really good... even I cant do that...)" he thought to himself. For a moment, Evan felt a bit worthless. After all, his team had been defeated by Eastgate Wildcats just recently. Watching Ethan effortlessly take down Mihos best move made him question his own skills. But the referee in him shook off those thoughts. With a sharp whistle, Evan shouted, "Ethans ball!" Ethan nodded as the ball was passed back to him. He wasnt about to let up now. With the ball in his hands, he squared up, focusing on Mihos every movement. Mihos reaction had only fueled Ethans determination to take the win. This wasnt just about the gameit was about proving that he could stand toe-to-toe with the best. From the sidelines, Ryan, who had been watching intently, leaned toward Lucas. "Damn, he really is good. You were right. Ethans got skills." Lucas, a subtle grin creeping up on his face, nodded, his confidence in Ethan only growing. "I told you. Hes got what it takes." Coonie, who had been silent up until now, spoke with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. "I dont know if hes a prodigy or a monster..." He shook his head, watching Ethan with an expression that suggested he was still trying to comprehend the full extent of Ethans abilities. Armi Hassuf, the shooting guard from Eastgate Wildcats, leaned in from the sidelines, his arms crossed as he analyzed the situation. He had seen a lot of basketball in his timeplayers with raw talent, game-changing moves, and impossible shots. But what he was witnessing from Ethan was something entirely different. "Correction," Armi said, shaking his head. "Hes a genius." Armi had never seen a player like Ethan beforehis unpredictability, his calculated moves, and the way he read the game felt eerily similar to the legendary "Gods" team that had dominated the region a few years ago. However, the Gods had mysteriously not played in the last season due to some unforeseen reason. Ethan reminded Armi of that groupplayers who werent just talented but were able to shift the games very dynamic. Ethan was no longer an ordinary; he was something moresomething unpredictable, and that was the most dangerous thing of all. As the game progressed, it became clear to everyone watching that this one-on-one wasnt just a battle for bragging rights. It was a clash of two completely different mindsets: Mihos cold, calculated technique and Ethans unpredictable genius. And as each minute ticked by, Mihos frustration mounted, while Ethans confidence seemed to grow stronger with every successful move. .... As I stood there with the ball, I could feel the intensity of the moment. Miho was already in my head, trying to read my next move. But now it was my turn to take control of the game. "My turn," I said, my voice steady as I eyed Miho. His frustration was starting to show, and I knew this was the moment to take advantage of it. I made a quick hesitation dribble, pausing just for a split second before making my move. It was a classic Hesi, a move Id been working on for a long time (14 years old Jonathan Brandit). The goal wasnt to just throw Miho offit was to make him hesitate, give him a glimpse of what was coming and then change it up entirely. Miho bit. "You..." he muttered, caught completely off guard by my sudden stop and go. I could see it. Mihos brain was fogged by his frustration. He was angry, and that clouded his judgment. It was the perfect time to exploit it. In that moment, I thought to myself, "(Idiot. Due to his frustration, his brain cant function the way it usually does.)" The opening was there, and I wasnt going to waste it. I quickly transitioned into the Pullback Dribble, stepping backward with the ball, creating just enough space between Miho and me. I could see Mihos body shifting forward, trying to react to my hesitation, but he was already too far gone. He jumped in an attempt to block my shot, but instead of me moving in, I backed away just enough to force him off the ground. The crowd gasped. Miho was literally off the ground, out of position, and for a brief moment, the gym felt like it was frozen in time. The eyes of every player and spectator in the gym were locked on the court, waiting to see what would happen next. I didnt waste any time. With Miho in the air and out of position, I took the shot. The ball soared through the air with precision, and as it swished through the net, the crowd erupted. "Ohhhhh!" The sound of the crowds collective astonishment echoed through the gym. "Did Miho get dropped on the ground?" Davis Conner, the powerful and reliable forward from Eastgate Wildcats, said incredulously, his jaw nearly hitting the floor. Armi Hassuf, one of Mihos teammates, gulped, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Yeah, looks like it," he replied, not quite able to process what had just happened. On the sidelines, Ryan grinned from ear to ear. "Serves him right, kekekeke," he said, clearly enjoying the unexpected turn of events. Lucas, who had been watching intently, simply muttered, "Ethan..." He was both impressed and surprised, his faith in Ethans abilities reinforced by what he had just witnessed. Evan, acting as the referee, stood frozen for a moment, clearly shocked by what had just unfolded. "I... I didnt expect that..." he mumbled under his breath. Brandon Young, the towering center from Vorpal Basket, stared at the court, his voice full of astonishment. "He dropped Miho??" His tone was a mix of disbelief and respect. Kai Mendoza and Jeremy Park, two of the key players from the Vorpal team, looked at each other, their mouths wide open. The game had just taken a sharp turn, and neither of them could fully comprehend what had just transpired. It was a moment that would stick with everyone in the gym for a long time. Ethan Albarado had just dropped Miho Parkthe same Miho Park who was known as a prodigy, a player with nearly flawless skills. And now, Ethan had exposed a vulnerability that no one had seen coming. The game had shifted, and it was clear to everyone watching that this wasnt just any ordinary match. The gym buzzed in disbelief. Even the air felt heavier, charged with energy. Miho stood up quickly, brushing the back of his jersey with one hand and gritting his teeth. His pride stung far worse than the fall. "What the...!" Miho muttered, still stunned. His eyes burned with determination and frustration as he snapped, "I cant accept this. Lets run it backnow!" But before they could resume, a sudden voice sliced through the noise: "Whats going on with this mess?" Everyone turned toward the entrance. Standing tall with crossed arms and a cold stare was none other than Charlotte Graves, a striking 15-year-old girl with short-black hair, beautiful silver eyes, and a commanding presence. Her Oak Hill Academy blazer hung off one shoulder like she didnt even need it to flex her authority. The murmurs started instantly. "Its Charlotte..." "Charlotte...!" "The captain of the Thunderhawks!" Ryans voice echoed over the chatter, "Charlotte! The captain of the Thunderhawks... my idol... the goddess..." he said, practically sparkling like an anime fanboy, heart-shaped eyes and all. Then Lucas, surprisingly calm, said, "Sis." The entire gym froze. Even the basketball stopped bouncing. "S-Sis?!" Ryan exploded. "Shes your sister?!" Even the Eastgate players were stunned. Coonie, arms folded, raised an eyebrow. "Dumb shit... of course she is. Look at her last name: Graves." Everyone suddenly paused as if their brains were buffering, then slowly nodded. "Ohhhhhh..." Yeah. Now that they thought about it... the last name Graves, the same intense eyes, the postureit all made sense. But only Ethan stood calm and unfazed, watching everything unfold. "(Charlotte Graves... the sister of Lucas Graves. I already knew this from the novel. And I know whats going to happen next... shes going to)" Ethan thought, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if watching pieces of a story fall perfectly into place. While Ethan was still thinking, Ryan erupted again, practically grabbing Lucas by the shoulders. "Shes your real sister?!" Coonie gave him a well-earned smack on the back of the head. "YES, YOU IDIOT! Look at them! They even breathe the same way!" Charlotte, meanwhile, pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed in frustration. "I asked firstwhy are you all here? And why is there a student from another school in this gym?" Her tone had authority. The kind that could silence a whole classroom with just a look. Evan, as acting referee and captain of Vorpal, stepped forward awkwardly and said, "Uhm... Wildcats kinda challenged us... and Mihotheir captainwanted to play... and now its turned into a 1v1 with Ethan." Miho scoffed. "Can we just continue the game?" Charlottes eyes locked onto Miho like laser sights. "This isnt your school, bastard. " The room went ice cold. Miho turned, flames in his eyes. "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?" Armi quickly stepped in, raising both his hands in a diplomatic gesture, trying to cool the rising tension. "Now now, Captain... calm down. Were guests here, remember?" His voice was calm, but firm, like someone who knew Miho well enough to keep him from boiling over. Even though Mihos pride had taken a heavy hit, Armis words kept him from blowing up in front of everyone. Charlotte didnt flinch. Her cold, commanding gaze stayed locked on Miho, then shifted briefly to the rest of Vorpal Basket before returning to address the whole gym. "You lot already know the rules," she said, her voice sharp and precise. "No unsanctioned games against other school players on campus. Unless its an official scrimmage or a practice session approved by both coaches, its not allowed. If you really want to settle something..." she paused, pointing toward the exit, "...take it outside." The air went still. The squeaks of sneakers and basketballs had all faded. You could hear someone gulp in the back. Every player in the gym was silentnot because they were afraid, but because Charlottes presence had that kind of weight. Her authority wasnt forced; it was earned. Then she looked Miho dead in the eyes. "Now, think about thisif someone walks in right now and reports this, would you all be in trouble?" Miho gritted his teeth, clearly suppressing his frustration. "Tsk..." He looked away, knowing she was right. And just like that, the 1v1 game that had everyone on edge was officially canceledwith the scoreboard in the court of public opinion showing Ethan Albarado leading 1C2. There was no arguing that. Ethan had bested Miho. Even if the game didnt finish, the crowd, Vorpal, Eastgate, and even Thunderhawks had seen enough. But Miho didnt walk away quietly. "Its not over yet," he said firmly, his voice echoing off the walls as he turned back to Ethan. "We settle this in a real game." The way he said it didnt sound like a threat. It sounded like a promise. He turned on his heel and began walking toward the exit, fire in his eyes but his head held high. His pride was hurt but not crushed. As he reached the bench, he grabbed his duffel bag and threw on his varsity jacket with sharp, fluid movements. Without even looking back, he called out to his teammates: "Armi. David. Lets go." Armi and Davis Conner, Eastgates strong, silent power forwardnodded immediately, already packing up. "Yes, Captain." Their voices were in sync. They respected Miho not just as a player, but as a leader. No matter what had happened, he still carried himself with that same tenacity. The Eastgate Wildcats exited the gym in single file, leaving a trail of silence behind them. But that silence didnt last long. Because everyone knew. This wasnt the end. It was just the beginning of something much bigger. And all eyes were now on Ethan Albaradothe boy who dropped a prodigy. To be continue Chapter 49 - 36: The plot is a messed Chapter 49: Chapter 36: The plot is a messed Charlotte Graves stood tall in the center of the gym, her short black hair swaying slightly as she turned her sharp silver eyes toward Ethan. Her presence commanded attentionnot just because she was the captain of the Thunderhawks or a popular figure at Oak Hill Academy, but because of the quiet confidence she carried. An athletic build, toned from years of relentless training, made it clear she was the real deal. She folded her arms and spoke, calm and composed. "You must be Ethan." Ethan, still holding the basketball in one hand, raised a brow with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I didnt know I was popular." Charlotte chuckled softly barely a breathbut it held weight. She shook her head, eyes narrowing slightly with that focused intensity that captains carried. Then she dropped the unexpected line. "I want to play against you." Ethan blinked, caught off guard. "Pardon me?" Without missing a beat, Charlotte turned her attention to the Vorpal Basket squad. "I already told my coach, Coach Lory, to inform your coach. Thunderhawks will have a training match against Vorpal Basket soon." There was a beat of silence. Lucass eyes widened as he spoke up, a bit anxious. "Sis..." Charlotte turned to him with a firm but playful grin. "Im looking forward to playing with you, Ethan... and you too, brother." Lucas gulped. The casual way she said it somehow felt like a challenge, and he knew what it meanthe had to bring his A-game. She never issued half-hearted statements. Ethan exhaled lightly, mind racing. "(This never happened in the original novel plot...)," he thought, eyes narrowing slightly. Something had changed. A ripple in the story. And he was the reason. Then Charlotte locked eyes with Ethan again, her silver gaze piercing but oddly soft. "And also... I want to know more about you." Ethan raised an eyebrow again. "Me?" Lucas quickly intervened, voice tight. "Sis" But it was too late. Realizing how her words sounded, Charlottes expression shifted. Her confident front cracked slightly as a hint of red bloomed on her cheeks. "W-What I meant was your strategyyour strategist mind! Beating Orlando Hoops yesterday, thats what I meant!" she stammered, waving a hand quickly as if brushing away the air between them. Thenwithout waiting for a replyshe spun on her heel, turned bright red, and dashed out of the gym, short hair bouncing behind her. Ethan watched her go, the faintest deadpan look crossing his face. "(What a weirdo...)," he muttered under his breath. As the gym door closed behind Charlotte, the silence that followed cracked open into chatter and laughter. Ryan Taylor stood there frozen, his jaw practically unhinged as he stared at the now-vanishing figure of Charlotte Graves sprinting down the gym corridorshort black hair bouncing, silver eyes averted, cheeks completely flushed. He slowly turned his head to Ethan, eyes wide in pure disbelief, his voice finally squeaking out like hed just seen someone take his crush to prom. "Bro..." Ryan raised a finger and pointed dramatically. "BroBROdid she justdid she just flirt with you?!" then he cried, his hands grabbing Ethans shoulders. "That was Charlotte Graves ! The Goddess of the Thunderhawks! I hate you so much right now!" Coonie, arms crossed, snorted. "Relax, lover boy. She didnt propose. She just blushed and ran." Ryan dramatically rolled onto the gym floor, hand over his heart. "Ive been fanboying her since freshman year! I wrote her a love letter and never sent it. I had a playlist titled Charlottes Smile. And she just casually gives Ethan her attention like hes the main character of a sports anime?!" Lucas, on the other hand, just groaned and covered his face. "I swear shes gonna ruin me..." Ethan, cool as ever, tossed the ball up and caught it with a light thud in his palm. "Well... this day just got weirder." He glanced outside the gym, past the glass windows where the sunlight cast golden streaks across the floor. His eyes narrowed. "Short hair... silver eyes... Charlotte Graves..." The name echoed in his head. The way she spoke, the strength in her gazeit was just like how she was written. Lucass sister... and in the novel, she died... Ethans expression subtly darkened. (It wasnt supposed to be her. Lucas was the one fated to die... but she stepped in, saving him from the gunshot. That moment was far off in the original story... but its coming.) He clenched the basketball a little tighter. He had knowledge no one else in this world did. And that meant he had a chance to change fate. Just then, Lucas walked up beside him, noticing Ethans serious expression. "Ethan?" Lucas asked softly. Ethan turned toward him, gave a nod, and said, "Lucas... lets win this game." Lucas smiled. "Yeah." Simple. Confident. The kind of answer only someone who believed in his teammate would give. They fist-bumped lightly, a quiet moment of agreement between two players who werent supposed to be close but were getting there. ... Nearby, the rest of the Vorpal Basket team was either lounging or getting ready to leave the gym. They werent exactly the strongest squad in the region but they had heart. They had potential, even if that wasnt obvious on paper. Evan Cooper, the point guard and current captain, was the only one close to elite. Smart, agile, and reliablehe was the brain of the court. But even he wasnt enough to carry the team alone. Josh Turner, the shooting guard, had been a key scorer until his ankle gave out. He was still recovering. Average stats now. Limited mobility. Might not return to form anytime soon. Ryan Taylor, the power forward, had a good build and great hustlebut his skills were raw. Post moves? Weak. Scoring consistency? Lacking. Still, his energy on defense gave them some backbone. Brandon Young, their big center, had size and could block shots well. But he wasnt agile. Struggled with offense. Passed like he had bricks for hands. And then... the bench: Coonie Smith, a guard with streetball vibes. Confident, but inconsistent. He had flashes of good shooting, but was unreliable under pressure. Defense? He tried, but lacked strength and stamina. Jeremy Park, a quiet forward who worked hard but lacked scoring touch or finesse. Almost invisible in games. Still learning the basics. Kai Mendoza, not even worth mentioning in todays rotation. Wild. Unfocused. Still learning how to control his energy. Lets be real, Ethan thought, looking at each of them. Were not strong. Not yet. But that doesnt mean well stay like this. As Ethan was thinking, Coonie walked over, glancing at his phone and stretching. "Should we head back to class? Its already 1 PM. Afternoon class probably started by now." He looked around, tired but alert. "We already ate, so no need to hit the canteen." Ethan gave a small nod. He wasnt hungry anyway his head was still spinning from everything that happened. The almost-fight. Charlottes sudden interest. The 1v1. The cancellation. Her invitation to a match. And then that strange comment before she ran off blushing. (This really isnt how the novel went...) ... Ethan glanced around the hallway as he and the others made their way back to class. The gym was behind them, the echoes of bouncing balls and squeaking shoes slowly fading away. Everyone was quiet. Maybe thinking about the weird day so far... or the fact that for the third-year starters like Evan, Josh, Ryan, and Brandon this might be their last shot at middle school basketball. No do-overs. No rewinds. Lucas walked beside Ethan, calm as always. Ethan could tell he was still a bit shaken by earlier. Not just the game, but Charlottes unexpected appearance. And then someone stepped right in front of them. A shadow blocked their path. Ethan looked up. It was a boy about their age, with slightly messy black hair and eyes that were brown with a hint of gold, like autumn leaves catching sunlight. There was a small, faded cut just above his right eyebrow , like a scar from a long-forgotten fight. "Brown eyes..." Ethan muttered, narrowing his gaze. The boy grinned confidently. "Do you guys remember me?" he asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The whole group just stood there. Everyone shook their heads. "Nope." "Who?" "Uhh..." The boy immediately clutched his chest and staggered dramatically. "Gak! Right in the heart," he groaned, pretending to fall over. "Cmon! Its me! First year! The one who was good at basketball a few months ago? Remember?" Lucas just blinked, clearly confused. Evan, squinting, finally clicked. "Wait... youre that cocky kid from tryouts. The one with crazy dribbling." "Louie," the boy said proudly. "Louie Gee Davas." Josh and Ryan suddenly remembered. Josh muttered, "Wait... hes the one who said" Ryans eyes widened. "Is this the best this team can do?" Louie pointed both fingers at them. "Thats me!" Then shrugged, smug. "I wasnt wrong though." Joshs brow twitched. "Says the guy who got rejected by Coach Fred." Louie scoffed. "That fat dude doesnt know real basketball if it slapped him in the face. Always kissing up to the higher-ups. If he had put me on the team, we wouldve actually won games. Mightve even gone to Nationals." Ryan and Josh burst out laughing. "BAHAHA! Nationals?! You serious?" "Do you think championships grow on trees, idiot?" Evan crossed his arms, thinking. He didnt like Louies attitude back then... but even he had to admit: "(Now that I think about it... if he had been with us, we mightve actually won a game or two.)" Lucas tilted his head. "Who is this guy?" he asked Ethan quietly. Before Ethan could answer, Louie turned to Lucas with a huge grin. "I saw you play back then." "You can copy moves, right? Dribbling, shooting... that was awesome as hell." Then his gaze shifted to Ethan. "And you. Ethan Albarado. That whole floor-spacing strategy you pulled off? Genius, man." His tone changed more honest than arrogant. There was a flicker of respect in his eyes. "You two are different. You care about basketball. I can feel it." That caught Ethan off guard. The words, the emotion it all clicked. (Louie Gee Davas... I know that name. He was supposed to be Lucass partner his right-hand man in the novel. A pure-hearted, talented first year. He had the fire. The potential.bBut the author... killed him off. Car accident. Just like that. And Lucas was alone again.) Ethan looked at him for a long second. (Hes alive right now... in front of me. Smiling. Full of life.) Louie, unaware of Ethans thoughts, laughed and said, "So? You guys got room for one more this year? Or are you all still scared of the truth?" Ethan exhaled, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Youre loud, you know that?" "Honest," Louie corrected, with a grin. "And Im not going anywhere this time." To be continue Chapter 50 - 37: I Want to Stand by His Side Chapter 50: Chapter 37: I Want to Stand by His Side The steady hum of the train filled the silence inside the compartment. Outside, the early morning sun drifted across the glass windows, casting pale gold light across the seats where the Eastgate Wildcats sat. The tension wasnt loud it lingered like static in the air, coiled tight between glances, thoughts, and unspoken grudges. Three players, three very different minds. Miho Park, the captain. A name that echoed across regional courts. A Korean prodigy with the skill to dazzle and the mindset to dominate at least, thats how people saw him. Right now, though, his eyes werent focused on the scenery or his teammates. He was somewhere else. Somewhere deeper. Next to him sat Davis Conner, the teams solid rock at power forward reliable, strong, always calm. And beside Davis, resting his head against the cool window, was Armi Hassuf, the ever-curious shooting guard known for his brains and occasional habit of overthinking everything. None of them spoke for a while. The rhythm of the train tracks provided a beat, almost like a countdown. Mihos thoughts surged like a flood. "(Pullback Dribble ...)" "(That Hesi move into the floater... That angle!)" "(How did he even pull that off?!)" "(I read it. I swear I read it. But my body... didnt move.)" In his mind, he saw Ethan again. Cool. Calm. Almost mocking. He wasnt just recalling it he was fighting it, trying to rewrite the outcome through sheer will. You could call it image training. You could call it ego rehab. But to Miho Park... it was a mental war. And right now? He was losing. Across from him, Armi Hassuf opened one eye, exhaled slowly, and watched Miho with a knowing look. Hed seen this before. Miho had always been intense, but ever since his lost to Ethan and that play hed been colder. Sharper. Obsessed. Armi didnt say anything out loud, but his thoughts carried weight. "(Captain... may this journey teach you something.)" "(Not just how to beat Ethan... but how to face yourself.)" Davis leaned back, unsure if he should speak. But he stayed quiet. He knew better than to interrupt Miho mid-visualization. The three of them sat in silence again. The train rumbled forward. Their destination: Eastgate High, where their next Chapter and their eventual rematch waited. But in Miho Parks mind? He was already there. Fighting ghosts. And preparing for war. ....... Meanwhile... Inside the Classroom at Oak Hill Academy Location: Mouth of Wilson, Virginia The clock ticked slowly on the whitewashed wall of Room 3-B, inside the main academic building of Oak Hill Academy. The classroom buzzed with quiet murmurs, pens scratching paper, and the occasional sigh of despair. At the front of the room, Mr. Wang Lee, their strict but passionate Biography teacher, was deep into a lecture about some historical figure nobody cared enough to remember. "...and that is why Florence Nightingale was not only a nurse but a symbol of resilience and modern medicine..." His voice droned like a background soundtrack to a very long nap. At the back of the room sat Ethan , Lucas, Coonie, Jeremy, and Kai all second years, all athletes, and all in various stages of "not paying attention." Kai? Face down on the desk. Completely knocked out. He had both arms folded like a pillow, hoodie pulled over his head, and mouth slightly open. "I dont give a damn about some biography crap." Kai had mumbled five minutes into the lesson before fully passing out. Coonie? Tapping his pen against the desk, eyes glazed over. He looked like he was trying to stay awake but was losing the fight minute by minute. "That Idiot sleeping like buffon" he whispered to Jeremy. Jeremy? He was trying to pay attention... for about two seconds. Now he was scrolling his notebook with little sketches of basketball plays and random doodles of anime eyes. Lucas? He looked calm, posture upright, but his mind was elsewhere. "(That jump shot... I still havent perfected the timing. I wonder if I can adjust the mimicry...)" And then there was Ethan sitting near the window. Mr. Wang was still talking, but Ethan wasnt listening. His eyes were glued to the window. Something, no, someone was outside. It was Louie Gee Davas. Standing just outside, awkwardly pressed against the glass like a lost puppy. He wasnt doing anything dramatic. Just looking inside the classroom. Waiting. His hair was a little messy, black with a hint of brownish gold under the sunlight. There was still that tiny cut above his right eyebrow something that hadnt healed yet. And he looked... sad. Like hed been standing there for a while. But the moment Ethan looked at him, their eyes met. Louies face lit up instantly. He smiled like the sun had just come out, waving both arms like a kid at a birthday party. "(What the hell is he doing?)" Ethan blinked and frowned slightly. "Did this guy seriously skip class just to come look through a window like a cartoon character?" Lucas noticed too. "Hey... isnt that the first year from earlier?" he whispered. Jeremy turned toward the window and nodded slowly. "Yup. Thats definitely him." Coonie smirked. "He looks like hes about to propose or something." Kai snorted in his sleep. "(What kind of guy just stares into a classroom like that?)" Ethan thought, amused but confused. Louie kept waving, mouthing something enthusiastically like: "Ethan! Ethan! Come out!" The teacher still hadnt noticed. Ethan sat back, crossing his arms. "Hes just a first year... thirteen years old... way too hyper." And yet, deep down... There was something about that goofy smile. That energy. That spark. Ethan couldnt explain it, but it felt like Louie was going to be important like fate had tugged the thread again. Ethan stared. At that kid beyond the glass. At Louie Gee Davas A crooked smile on his face. Waving like the world hadnt crushed him yet. Hope still shining in his eyes. In the Novel "Turning point" He dies. And Ethan knew it. Knew it better than anyone. "(In the novel... Louie dies in a car accident. He never even got the chance to play a real game. Lucas never got a partner. The author just) Deleted him. Tossed aside a kid full of talent, passion, and love for the game. But now "(Hes here... smiling like none of that happened.)" ... Ethan leaned back in his seat, eyes half-closed as his mind turned like clockwork. "(The real problem is... I dont even know when it happens. The novel never said the exact date. Not even the place.)" "(All I know is that it was sudden... like a cruel joke before the story got serious.)" He clenched his fist under the desk. "(How do you stop something when you dont even know when its coming?)" ....... "Ethan...?" Lucass voice cut in through the fog of thought. "Hello?" He waved a hand in front of Ethans face. "Are you listening to me?" Ethan blinked, pulled back to reality. "Yeah, yeah," he said quickly, forcing a small laugh. "I hear you, ahahaha. Just thinking." Lucas narrowed his eyes, not entirely buying it, but not pushing either. Ethan shrugged, glancing once more toward the window where Louie had now started tracing something on the glass with his finger. Some kind of... doodle? A smiley face? It was hard to tell. "Just ignore him for now," Ethan said. "Well settle it later." Lucas followed his gaze. Louie had now started imitating a jump shot for no reason. Just vibing. Lucas smirked. "So... you want him to join our team or something?" Ethan was quiet for a moment. Then calmly, he replied "Well see." Lucas raised a brow. "Thats not a no." "Yeah, well," Ethan said, eyes flicking toward the chalkboard but not really seeing it. "A lot of things are different now." ..... Mr. Wang was still droning about the life of George Washington Carver. But for Ethan? History class could wait. He had a life to protect. A timeline to derail. And maybe just maybe a teammate to save. ... Meanwhile, Outside the Classroom... Louie Gee Davas stood quietly by the hallway window, his forehead resting gently against the cool glass as he peeked inside. His eyes werent scanning the lesson. They werent focused on the teacher. They were locked firmly on Ethan Albarado. His expression? Calm on the outside. But on the inside? Everything burned. .... "(I watched that exhibition match...)" "(Vorpal Basket vs Orlando Hoops. That prodigyAlec Storm. Everyone hyped him up, rightfully so.)" He remembered it perfectly. Lying on his bed with his earbuds in, he watched the replay on his phone for the second time. He hadnt paid much attention to it the first timetoo tired after playing basketball In the first Half "(It was just decent. Orlando had the upper hand, and I thought: Yeah, of course. Theyve got Alec freakin Storm.)" But then... The third quarter happened. ... Louies eyes shifted toward Lucas Graves inside the classroom. "(That number 10... Lucas. At first, he looked like any other kid.)" "(Then suddenlybamhe started imitating Alecs crossover. The eurostep. That spin fake. Shot-for-shot, move-for-move. Like watching a mirror glitch out in real time.)" He grinned a little to himself. "(He even managed to lock Alec down. That one-on-one? Savage.)" But then his eyes slowly turned back to Ethan. And that smile faded into something deeper. Something more emotional. .... "(But even then... even with Lucas going crazy... It wasnt just him.)" "(The reason Lucas could do all that... the reason the team didnt fall apart... was because of him.)" Ethan Albarado. Blond hair catching the sunlight just right. Blue eyes focused but calm. No dramatic gestures. No flashy trash talk. Just pure basketball. "(The passes... the cuts... the pacing. Every dribble was so clean. Every read was so sharp. And then when he shot? Damn.)" "(It was like watching a ghost of the 90s... That same poise. That same aura. Like Michael Jordan. Im seriousit was just greatness.)" .... Louies chest rose a little with a slow breath. His fingers tightened against the window frame. "(After watching that game... I knew it.)" "(I didnt just want to be on the team... I wanted to go against him. I wanted to learn from him.)" "(Not because I think I can beat him... but because I want to be someone worthy of standing on that court with him.)" To Be Continue Chapter 51 - 38: Louie vs Lucas Chapter 51: Chapter 38: Louie vs Lucas So, guys, Ive been sick again. Hayst. But thankfully, Im okay now. Ive got my meds and Im slowly getting back on my feet. Honestly, ever since I was a kid, my life has been like this surrounded by medicines, hospitals, and constant health struggles. Its not easy living life on medication, but because of that, I spent a lot of time alone. And in that quiet, I found something beautiful: stories. I loved imagining other worlds. Isekai, fantasy lands, or even just retelling the stories I heard from my dad and friends. They would share their own experiences, funny, deep, or painful and I would take those and let them grow in my imagination. I imagined what their stories would look like in a different world, or if they became characters in an anime or a novel. Thats when I realized: I want to be a storyteller. I want to create stories that touch peoples hearts, just like how others stories inspired and comforted me during my sick days. Writing became my escape and now, its my purpose. So yeah, my life may be full of meds but its also full of imagination, dreams, and the will to keep creating no matter what. All I need is your support whether its reading my stories, leaving a like or comment, sharing my work, or simply encouraging me when things get tough. Every little bit of support gives me strength to keep writing, keep dreaming, and keep going. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. ..... The clock ticked past 3:00 PM. Classes were over. The gymnasium at Oak Hill Academy buzzed with the sounds of squeaking sneakers and bouncing basketballs. Afternoon light streamed in through the tall windows, casting golden lines across the polished wooden floor. Ethan Albarado stood calmly by the sidelines, arms crossed, his blue eyes locked on two players at center court. One of them was newyet already stirring waves. The other? A starter, a talent they all knew. And today, they were about to clash. Coach Fred Mason stood with his whistle lazily dangling around his neck. He eyed the new kid with a neutral expression. "Louie," he said gruffly, "youre now officially a member of Vorpal Basket." The words echoed across the gym. Louie Gee Davas? Didnt even flinch. He just grinned wide. "(This fatass was always under the radar...)." Louie thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. "(What did Ethan do to make this corrupt old man suddenly listen to reason?)" Ethan stepped forward, his voice cutting through the moment with clarity. "Even if youre one of us now," he said, "I need you to do something first." Louie cocked his head. "And what is it?" he asked, the grin still hanging off the corner of his lips though a subtle gulp betrayed a bit of tension. Ethan didnt answer immediately. Instead, he turned his head toward the other player on the court. Lucas Graves. Calm. Focused. Slightly confused. Ethan pointed. "Have a match with him." Lucas blinked. "Me?" He tapped his chest, raising an eyebrow. "Yep," Ethan smirked. "You." The gym grew a little quieter as the tension spiked. Lucas looked across at Louie. Louie looked back, almost evaluating. "(So Ive gotta play against Lucas Graves...)" Louie thought, his hands twitching slightly with excitement. "(A year older... I may say one of the best on the team... Who copy other people.)" Ethan narrowed his eyes and teased, "What? You chickening out already?" Louie grinned, eyes glinting with fire. "No way. In fact... thanks. For making me go against him." Ethan gave a mock sigh. "Then call him senior." Louie chuckled and replied, "If he can beat me...then maybe I will." His smirk widened. Lucas raised an eyebrow at the cockiness. Then, something flickered behind his eyes. Challenge. Excitement. Respect. "(This guy...)" Lucas thought. "(Hes cocky, but its not empty. Hes fired upI like it.)" He clenched his fists and shouted: "LETS DO THIS!!!" Louie bent his knees slightly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He watched Lucas posture, his stance, his rhythm. "(So this is how he stands when hes focused...)" Louie noted. "(His aura is sharp. Calm, but ready to strike. I like it.)" "(I dont care if he can copy my moves... Ill outthink him. Ill outpace him. Ill show him what original looks like.)" He looked toward Ethan for just a moment. "(Watch me, Ethan. Watch me earn it.)" "(Ill make you recognize me.)" The ball bounced once. Then twice. And in the center of the gymLouie Gee Davas and Lucas Graves faced each other. Two young beasts. Both hungry. Both burning. The match was about to begin. ..... The gym floor creaked softly beneath their sneakers. The afternoon light had mellowed, casting long shadows. Other team members lingered at the sides, whispering, curious. But inside that court, only two mattered. Lucas Graves, standing tall, ball in hand, calmly dribbling. Louie Gee Davas, bouncing on his heels, focused, adrenaline building with every second. They didnt need a crowd. They didnt need a scoreboard. To Louie this wasnt for glory.... this was for recognition. Ethan simply tossed a whistle to Coach Fred, who gave one short blow. The match began. The Vorpal Basket bench squad and the starters were all watching now: Ethan Albarado, watching with arms crossed, a strategist behind the curtain. Josh Turner, already whistling. Ryan Taylor, leaned on the wall with crossed arms. Brandon Young, seated like a stone tower. Evan Cooper, rubbing his hands together, excited. Jeremy, Kai, and Coonie whispered among themselves. Coach Fred Mason stood to the side, clipboard in hand, watching silently. The gym was still. Only the sound of bouncing basketballs from another court and distant sneakers squeaking faintly in the background. "Were playing to five," Ethan said. His voice calm. "No breaks. Straight points. No mercy." Lucas dribbled the ball smoothly, studying Louies stance. "Youre light on your toes. Thats good," he said. "But your right knee opens a little when you prep for lateral movement." Louie smirked, cocking his head. "Tch. Who are you, a scout?" Then his grin widened. "Talk with your game." Louie thought to himself "(Dont show him anything. Just react. Let the body talk.)" Lucas responded. Crossover. Left to right. Into a hesitation. Louie tracked him, sliding smoothly. ThenboomLucas hit an "In-and-Out" dribble, planting his right foot and bursting forward into a hop step, gathering the ball into his chest. Louie lunged to contest. Too late. Lucas floated the ball high off the glass. It arced beautifully and dropped through with a clean whisper. "1C0." Lucas turned, speaking without flair. "Hop-float. Good against fast feet like yours." "(Hes not just skilled. Hes like a maestro.)" Louie thought, retrieving the ball. "(But hes not the only one who can adapt.)" Louie brought it up top. Quick jab step. His right foot stabbed forward. Lucas twitched That was the bait. Louie slashed right, then spun left on a dime, digging his pivot foot into the floor, launching himself into a silky step-back midrange jumper. Swish. "Alec Storms not the only one who can hoop." Lucas raised an eyebrow, respect flickering across his face. "You are good" "Yosh." Lucas bounced the ball again, breathing slow. He mimicked Louies earlier movejab step, spinbut instead of shooting, he twisted into a reverse pivot layup, off-hand, spinning away from Louies contest attempt. Ball kissed glass. Dropped in. "2C1." "Hes using my rhythm against me... turning my style inside out," Louie realized. "Hes not just playing me. Hes learning me." Louie cracked his neck. Smiled. "Try copying something I havent even done twice." He attackedslash right, leap into the airbut mid-air, he twisted, slapping the ball off the backboard with his right hand. The crowd gasped. He caught it again with his left before landing, twisted mid-air, and fired the shot. Lucas jumped But the ball was already sailing. Swish. "WHAT WAS THAT?!" Lucas shouted, stunned. "Did you just pass to yourself off the glass!?" Louie landed smoothly, already backing up. "Yup. What, you never tried that before?" "...No! Who does that!?" Louie laughed, hands up. "Me." [Basketball Note: Passing off the backboard to yourself is legal if done without traveling. Its flashy, rare, and demands elite body control and timing.] Lucas stepped forward, unshaken. He began low, dribbling tight, explosiveshoulders hunched like a sprinter off the blocks. Then he dropped a low crossover behind-the-back, switched hands clean, half-spin fake, and glided around Louies side for an underhand finger roll. "3C2." Louie reachedmissed air. "Damn. Hes quicker. No wasted movement. Every step counts." The crowd was hushed. Then murmurs started again. Ethan nodded slowly. "His decision-making... its faster." Coach Fred scribbled something down without lifting his eyes. Ryan leaned forward from the wall, voice low. "Louies not bad. But Lucas... Lucas is a monster." But what came next was the moment Louie would never forget. .... Meanwhile... At the Orlando Hoops Facility, Miami, Florida Alec sat on the edge of the bench, towel around his shoulders. Julian walked over, handing him a cold-water bottle. He sat down beside him. Julian said, "Youve been quiet since we got back from Virginia. You thinking about that match again?" Alec smirked, twisting the cap off. "You want to know why I got locked down by Lucas Graves?" Julian blinked. "I thought you underestimated him. Thats not like you." Alec leaned back, staring at the ceiling of the gym. "I did... but it wasnt just that. That guys ability..." he paused. "Its not just copying. He doesnt just imitatehe understands." Julian looked curious. "Explain." Alec sat up. His voice dropped lower, serious. "He copied my crossover, yeah. But then he changed it. He made it tighter. Faster. And when I adjusted, he was already adapting again." "Thats not normal." "So what now?" Alec stood up, spinning the ball on his finger. "Simple. We train harder. And when the next match comes..." The spin slowed. The ball dropped into his palm. He gripped it tight. His mind wandered backnot to the crowd, not to the buzzer, not to Lucas glare. But to that one person. To him. "(Ethan... that guy.)" "(If it werent for himI wouldnt have been locked down by Lucas.)" Alec closed his eyes briefly, his mind replaying a single moment on that day. To be continue Chapter 52 - 39: Louie vs Lucas (2) Chapter 52: Chapter 39: Louie vs Lucas (2) [Score: 3C2] The gym was still. The air was thick with sweat, silence, and expectation. Only the steady rhythm of leather hitting wood cut through the tension. Thump. Thump. Thump. Lucas Graves stood at the top of the key, the ball in his control left hand, fingers wide, pads of his hand absorbing each bounce with precision. It wasnt random. It wasnt idle. Each dribble was a message. A heartbeat. "Control the pace. Control the game." His body was relaxed, but perfectly aligned, feet shoulder-width, right heel slightly lifted, knees soft, eyes sharp. The way he held the ball wasnt just instinct. It was design. He wasnt trying to get by Louie. He was trying to dissect him. On the other side, Louie Gee Davas crouched low. He didnt blink. He didnt flinch. His fingers wiggled in place, small, twitchy movements as he hovered just inches off the floor, like a coiled spring waiting to burst. Louie wasnt watching the ball. He never did. "His right elbow flares when he sets for a left-hand gather. Thats where he opens up." The score was 3C2. Lucas led. And Louie had made a decision. "I will steal that ball." He smirked. Lucas caught the expression and raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Bring it on!!" His voice cracked like fire through ice full of grit, challenge, and hunger. Lucas dropped into a low dribble right hand, then back to left quick, tight. He stepped in with his left foot, baiting Louie to lean. Louie didnt. Not yet. Then Lucas went for it, behind-the-back crossover. Fast. Clean. Executed with the type of crispness only absolute mimicry could deliver. But Louie had already anticipated it. He moved before the move. Louie stepped forward not to the side. Forward. Into the arc of the dribble. His right hand came in low, fingers slashing up like a blade drawn from a sheath SWIPE. Contact. The ball snapped against Lucass hip, deflected hard it wasnt just stolen; it was disarmed. The ball careened leftaway from Lucass body. For one second, it was ownerless. A loose orb rolling on glossy hardwood. Louie reacted instantly. He dovenot down, but forward, like a hawk stooping from the sky. One foot exploded off the hardwood his left foot, the stronger one, pushing with torque trained through thousands of streetball battles, back-alley courts, and midnight showdowns. His torso angled low, chest nearly grazing the floor, his left arm stretched out like a scythe. The ball was spinning freericocheting after deflecting hard off Lucass thighand it was losing speed fast, wobbling across the polished court with chaotic momentum. If it bounced one more time, it would tilt out of reach. But Louies hand came in firstfingers open, loose, not stiff. He didnt attack it like a rookie. He let it roll into his palm, curling around it like a glove snatching a pop-fly. His skin met leather Secure. One clean, low cradle. Hed stolen the ball and seized possession before the bounce. It wasnt a gamble. It wasnt a lucky play. It was a masterclass in timing, positioning, and audacity. The gym responded not with cheers, but gasps. Jeremys jaw literally dropped. "HE GOT ITHE REALLY" Brandon muttered beneath his breath, like the words were forcing themselves out: "Thats not luck. Thats instinct..." Even Coach Freds clipboarda permanent extension of his armdropped downward slightly. He didnt even glance at his notes. His head tilted up. He was watching now. Really watching. But Ethan Albarado? He didnt gasp. He just narrowed his eyes and began mentally diagramming the entire sequence. "(He didnt react to the ball. He reacted to Lucass gather motion. He calculated the margin of error between Lucass behind-the-back and the flare of his elbow. No hesitation. Louie read it like a rhythm hed already danced to. Thats not something you learn in drills. Thats a streetballers reflex.)" Ethans fingers tapped once on his forearm. Quiet. Precise. "And now that I think about it..." His eyes followed Louie as he sprang to his feet with liquid grace, curling the ball tight into his side. "It makes sense." [Author note:] [Louie Gee Davas grew up playing streetballnot in gyms, but on rough courts where every move had to be fast, creative, and unpredictable. Thats what makes him special. He makes his own moves on the fly, using instinct and experience. Lucas Graves, on the other hand, has a rare gift called absolute mimicry. He can copy any move perfectly after seeing it just once. But heres the catch, hes still new to using it. So you could say he still adjusting a little bit.] ... "(Lucass mimicry is insane, yes.)" Ethan continued in his thoughts. "(But he only unlocked it recently. Hes replicating, not yet internalizing.)" And Louie? Louie wasnt replicating anything. He was using his moves... Did he create those moves? ........ By the time Ethans analysis concluded in his head, Louie had already leapt back into motion. With one knee press and a coiled twist, Louie was upright, fully vertical again, and moving Not stumbling. Not reacting. Flowing. He dashed forward ball in his right hand, his steps sharp and measured like he was dancing on coals. The space between him and the rim vanished fast. Lucas spun and gave chase, but was just one fraction of a step behind. Louie neared the paint, jump-stopped at the elbow, sold a pump-fake with his entire torso, then with a delay that shouldnt be possible mid-airtwisted and reversed the ball behind his back while still airborne. Lucas bit. Louie switched to his left hand mid-flight, rolled the ball gently off the glass Swish. 3C3. Tie game. No sound at first. Then A chair scraped. A palm smacked the floor. Voices flared. Kai shouted "Yohow is he doing that!?" Coonie whispered like it was sacred text "What the hell." Lucas stared at the backboard for a second too long before turning back toward the top of the key. Louie just looked over his shoulder, panting slightly, a sly grin cracking across his face. He didnt say a word. He didnt need to. But the message was clear. "Told you Id steal it." And somewhere, standing near the sideline, Ethan Albarado simply nodded once. "(Lucas is in a real fight now.)" ... Lucas got the ball back. Possession alternated. He took a slow walk to the top, head nodding. His eyes said one thing: "Focus." Dribble. Left hand. He jabbed right, then snapped into a hard in-and-out dribble, baiting Louie to shift Louie didnt fall for it. Lucas changed again quick half-spin, then a step-through, then spun off Louies left hip into a fadeaway. Louie rose with him. But Lucass timing was betterthe fade was fast, compact. Net. 4C3. Louie took possession. He walked the ball up slowly. Sweat trickled down his chin. He bounced the ball once, then twicehard, echoing through the gym like gunshots. He stared straight into Lucass eyes. Lucas smirked. Louie blew past him. First stepelectric. Left foot drive. Cross to the right. Spin. Lucas followed the spinreading it nowbut Louie improvised mid-move, stepping back and dropping into a sudden hesi jump-stop. Lucas lifted slightly to contest Too early again. Louie didnt shoot. Instead, he cuffed the ball, dipped under Lucass arm, and leaned in for a hard finish off the glass. 4C4. Now it was Lucass turn. Last point wins. He walked to the top again. No trash talk. No gestures. Only silence. He held the ball close nowtwo hands for a secondthen dropped into a low two-bounce rhythm. "(Louie wants to steal. But hes aggressive when you slow down. So speed it up. No second guessing.)" Lucas took one dribble left Then planted and went straight into a hard behind-the-back cross, switched hands, and immediately pushed off with a long euro step Louie caught up, he matched the first step. But not the second. Lucas changed the stride length at the last momentgoing short-long instead of long-short. Louie lunged to block Lucas dipped the ball under And with a final flick of the wrist, rolled it high off the glass. The spin carried it soft. It kissed the glass and fell in. 5C4. Game. Silence. Then sound. Ryan exhaled. "That... that was game speed." Ethan crossed his arms again. "Calculated. Last step misdirection. Beautiful." Coach Fred wrote just one word. Lucas. Louie stared in disbelief, breathing hard. Lucas walked over and extended a hand. "That was the most fun Ive had in weeks," he said, grinning. "Youre amazing... That steps you did was really good" Louie stared. Then slapped his hand into Lucass and grinned. "...Fine. Senior it is." Lucas smiled wider. "Took you long enough." They both laughed. But everyone knew, this wasnt over. This was just the beginning. ....... As the gym was silent after the high-energy match between Lucas and Louie. Sweat and adrenaline still hung in the air like the aftermath of a storm. The team gathered around in the middle of the court, their faces a mix of relief and exhaustion from the intense 1v1. Ethan Albarado stood in front of the team, arms crossed, eyes sharp as he analyzed the players in front of him. His decision was coming, and it wasnt going to be an easy one. He cleared his throat, turning his attention to Louie Gee Davas, the newly signed player. Louie had proven himself on the court, but Ethan had a different plan for him. A bigger plan. Ethan spoke with authority, "After analyzing the game... Ive decided to put you, Louie, on the 6th man." The words hung in the air for a moment, sharp and unexpected. The players shifted, their gazes flicking from Ethan to Louie, and then back again. Louie, standing with fire in his eyes, couldnt believe what he just heard. Louies face twisted in disbelief, his fists clenching. "What? I should be on the starting lineup. I just showed you what I can do out there!" His gaze shot towards the other starters, Evan, Ryan, and Brandon.. standing a few feet away, looking uncomfortable, trying to avoid eye contact. He couldnt hide the simmering frustration bubbling up inside him. Ethan shook his head slowly, his expression steady and calm. "The starters are already filled with me, Lucas, Evan, Ryan, and Brandon." There was no room for debate, no wavering in Ethans voice. His words were as final as the final buzzer that had just sounded. Louies face tightened, the anger rising in his chest as he looked at each starter, feeling the heat of competition coursing through his veins. "But Im more talented than them." His eyes locked on Evan, then flicked to Ryan, and finally settled on Brandon. "You saw what I did out there. Im better than them." "What the fuck did you say, you brat?" Evan snapped, stepping forward. His usual cool demeanor was gone. The point guards glare was sharp. "Say that again and well settle this one-on-one, right here!" Ryan, the power forward, clenched his jaw. "You think talent is all it takes? You dont know shit about team play yet." Brandon, towering over the rest as the center, just stared down at Louie, his deep voice rumbling. "You might have moves, kid... but try talking trash after youve boxed out five players like I do every night." Louies smirk twitched. He didnt back down, but he knew hed stepped on a few nerves. Ethan raised a hand, silencing the uproar. "Thats enough." Ethan met Louies gaze, his expression unchanging. "Talent doesnt just get you a spot on the starting lineup. Its about fit. About chemistry. Right now, the starting five has the balance we need." The room was thick with tension. Louies shoulders tensed, his fists clenched even tighter, but deep down, he knew Ethan wasnt wrong. He had been part of this team for only a short while. It wasnt just about being the most talented player on the court; it was about understanding how to contribute to the bigger picture. Ethan stood tall, his arms crossed, and his voice remained calm but firm. "Besides," he continued, "There is a reason why I put you there. I want you to watch us starters, and also... I need you in the third quarter..." Ethan paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke with conviction. "Like you said, you are good... talented. You have what most people dont have... the streetball IQ. You even created streetball moves. That alone proves youre a streetball prodigy." Louies eyes narrowed as he took in Ethans words. The praise felt good, but the frustration didnt leave his chest. He crossed his arms, staring back at Ethan with a smirk that barely concealed his irritation. "Then why? Why need me only in the third quarter when I can just be a vital to you in the first half?" Ethan sighed deeply, his gaze shifting toward the team for a brief moment. He looked back at Louie and said calmly, "Because if we all become tired, we need you to lead the bench players." He paused again and looked over at Coonie, Kai, and Jeremy, who stood at a distance, looking confused yet understanding. There was an underlying weight to Ethans words that Louie was starting to absorb. Ethan was playing the long game, not just thinking about the immediate future but also how to manage the teams energy over the course of the game. Louie was talented, no doubt, but there was something more Ethan needed him for. Ethans voice grew more serious as he continued, "Youre going to come off the bench, Louie, and when the third quarter hits, we need you to bring the energy. Youll be the one to push us when the starters start slowing down. Youll be the one to take charge of that bench unit and make sure we dont lose momentum." There was a finality in Ethans tone, a decision that Louie couldnt argue with, even though he wanted to. Louies lips parted to say something, but he closed his mouth and let out a long sigh. He was still irritated by not being placed in the starting lineup, but part of him knew this was a chance to prove Ethan right. Louie took a step forward, his voice tinged with a mix of defiance and resolve. "Alright, I get it." His words were clipped, but he wasnt backing down. "But dont think Im going to sit back quietly just because Im on the bench. Ill show you, Ill show all of you." Ethan looked at him, his expression still serious but his eyes showing a spark of belief. "Thats the spirit. I know you will." As Louie stepped away from Ethan, his thoughts swirled with the idea of having to wait for the third quarter to come alive. He knew he had the talent, and now he was being asked to lead the teams second unit. It wasnt what he wanted, but he had to admit: Ethans reasoning was solid. This wasnt just about personal prideit was about the teams success. Ethan watched Louie walk off and thought to himself with a quiet determination, "(Aiden is not here; hes still in the hospital, and Josh is injured. So, its just me and Lucas in the starting lineup.)" Ethans gaze shifted to the rest of the team. "(Well make this work,)" he thought. "(Ill make sure Louie fits in and plays his part. Were going to need everyone to get through this season.)" To be continue Basketball Note for Readers: In basketball, team chemistry is paramount. While individual talent is critical, its not always about being the best player, its about fitting into the team dynamic. Players like Louie might have the skill to start, but sometimes the flow of the game and the balance of strengths between the starters and bench are what lead to victory. The 6th man role, for instance, is often one of the most important roles on the teamits about impacting the game when it counts. Basketball Note for Readers: In basketball, the third quarter is often a pivotal point in the game where the momentum shifts, or a team can lose their edge. When the starters tire out, its essential for the bench to come in and keep up the intensity. This is where Louies role becomes crucial. As a player with streetball IQ and unique moves, hes not just another bench player, hes the spark that can reignite the teams fire and bring them back into the game with fresh energy. Basketball Note for Readers: Team rotations are crucial for maintaining energy throughout the game. A strong bench unit is often the difference between a team that wins and one that fades in the final quarter. In this case, Ethan recognizes the importance of having fresh legs in the third quarter to keep the teams momentum going. By managing the minutes of the starters and bringing in Louie at the right time, the team can stay competitive throughout the game. Chapter 53 - 40: Thunderhawks Chapter 53: Chapter 40: Thunderhawks The gym lights flickered slightly as the Thunderhawks wrapped up their final drill of the evening. Sneakers squeaked, whistles echoed, and the distant thump of a basketball hitting hardwood rang out in rhythm like a war drum. At the center of it all stood their captain, Charlotte Gravessharp-eyed, calm, and resolute. At just fifteen years old and already a third-year, Charlotte wasnt just another rising starshe was a symbol. Nicknamed "The Commander Hawk", "Silver Falcon", and to some simply "C.G.", Charlotte had built her legacy through grit, leadership, and iron discipline. Her silver eyes, short-cropped black hair, and a lean, athletic build made her an unmistakable presence on and off the court. She didnt talk muchbut when she did, people listened. Her leadership had taken the Thunderhawks to the finals last year. They came agonizingly close to a championship... but a cruel injury to one of their starters had ripped that dream away. Not this year. Now, with three days before their showdown with the Vorpal Basket, she was locked in. The whole team was. Starting Lineup C Thunderhawks Charlotte Graves (Captain) C Point Guard Height: 56" The strongest presence among the starters, Charlottes height gives her an edge in vision, reach, and physical defense. Known for her killer instincts, elite passing, and surgical game control. Isabella "Izzy" Moreno C Shooting Guard Height: 55" A hyper-quick shooter with deadly precision. Her ability to break ankles and launch mid-range shots makes her a silent killer. What she lacks in size, she compensates with unshakable confidence. Lena Kowalski C Small Forward Height: 56" A feisty defender with a knack for predicting offensive moves. Plays with a chip on her shoulder, often challenging players larger than herself and coming out on top. Sakura Tanaka C Power Forward Height: 57" Explosive in the paint and surprisingly agile. While smaller than traditional forwards, Sakura relies on impeccable timing and core strength to bully her way under the rim. Carmen "The Tiger" Delgado C Center Height: 510" The tallest player on the team. Strong, stable, and reliable. Shes the wall that holds the line on defense and is always first to snatch a rebound. Bench Players Eva Johansson C Guard Height: 54" A reliable backup with a calm demeanor and sharp court vision. Subtle but effective in both defense and passing. Natalie "Nattie" Carter C Forward Height: 55" Known for her silky shooting stroke and quick sidesteps. Always moving, always dangerous from mid-range. Amina "Mina" El-Sayed C Small Forward Height: 57" Gritty defender with fast hands and quicker feet. Can match up against taller players by getting under their skinmentally and physically. Jasmine Williams C Point Guard Height: 56" The smallest on the roster, but also one of the fastest. Known for her flashy handles and fast-break offense. Can change momentum in seconds. Clara van der Meer C Backup Center Height: 510" Tied in height with Carmen. A second wall. Plays a more physical style and doesnt shy away from contact. When she subs in, opponents groan. The team huddled at center court, cooling down after drills, sweat glistening on their brows. Charlotte bounced the ball slowly, deep in thought. "So... this is it." she whispered under her breath, silver eyes narrowing. She looked over to the sideline where a tall woman with a clipboard and arms crossed stood watching her like a hawk herselfCoach Lory Moore. Former WNBA champion. Former shooting guard. Former teammate of Romanov GravesCharlottes mother, and a WNBA legend in her own right. Lory and Romanov had been more than teammatesthey were sisters in battle. When Romanov passed, Lory took Charlotte under her wing like her own child. Charlotte jogged up to her. "Coach Lory... did..." Lory nodded. "Yeah, I spoke to him. He agreed. The match is set." Charlotte felt a shiver run down her spine. "So what did he say?" Lorys face was serious. Her voice firm. "July 6, 2010. Three days. Be ready." She turned to the rest of the team, her voice rising. "Girls! Listen up!" The girls gathered quickly, sweat still dripping, muscles achingbut alert. "You all saw the tapes, right? That team..." she paused, eyeing each of them, "theyre not the same losers you saw before." "Vorpal Basket is rising fastand theyve got someone new. Lucas Graves. Ethan Albarado. And that whole rosters hungry for a win." "So be..." she paused dramatically, her voice dropping like a hammer, "prepared. Understand?" "YES COACH!" the team roared, fists raised, the energy vibrating through the gym. Charlotte stood quietly, holding the ball in both hands. "(Three days. Ethan... Lucas... lets see how far youve come. Im not the same little girl from before either.)" And somewhere deep in her heart, a voice echoed. "(Mom, Ill finish what we started...)" The whistle blew again. "Back to work!" Coach Lory barked. The sound was sharp, slicing through the fading silence like a blade. Without a word, the girls hustled back into formation. Charlotte clapped once. Loud. Solid. "Izzy. Lena. Corner cuts. Sakura, Carmenscreens up top. Lets run it at full tempo. No pauses." They broke. The gym came alive again with motion feet pounding, balls bouncing, voices calling. "SCREEN LEFT!" "CUTTING THROUGH!" "SWITCH, SWITCH!" Sakura slammed into a screen position like a freight trainher feet planted, her arms locked. Carmen followed up, creating a wall on the top side. Izzy zipped around the edge, caught Charlottes laser pass, and let it fly. Swish. Net. Only net. "AGAIN!" Charlotte called. "Faster. Sharper. No mercy." Coach Lory watched from the side, arms still folded, lips tight. (Good. Theyre locked in now. But will it hold when they face Graves boy? When Ethan Albarado starts firing on all cylinders?) Across the court, Mina and Nattie worked on switching defense. Jasmine chased Clara through a rebounding drill, sweat pouring from her forehead, determination in her eyes. Even the bench felt like starters tonight. Then it happened. Lena missed a switch. Izzy ran into Carmen mid-play, staggering back. Charlottes voice cut the air like a whip. "Lena! Youre one second late. Again!" Lena bit her lip, frustrated, but nodded. "Got it, Cap." Charlotte didnt ease up. "We cant afford mistakes. Not against them. Not this time." The girls reset. And again, they ran it. Again. And again. Until the only sound was exhaustion. Until Carmen was breathing through clenched teeth. Until Izzys arms shook from the number of shots shed released. Until Charlottes shirt clung to her back like a second skin. ... Coach Lory finally blew the whistle. "Break. Water. Stretch. Then final run." Some girls dropped to their knees. Others slumped against the wall. But not Charlotte. She paced silently, gripping the ball. (This isnt just a match. Its war. And we already lost one war before... I wont let it happen again.) She glanced at her reflection in the gyms window the silver eyes, the tension in her shoulders, the fire behind her gaze. (Lucas Graves. Youre not the only ones chasing redemption.) Coach Lory walked over, voice low, almost like a whisper. "Remember what your mother told us the night before our first WNBA finals?" Charlotte didnt look at her. "Yeah. I remember." Coach nodded, smiling faintly. "Then say it." Charlotte inhaled, then said it like a vow. "You either break... or you break through." Lory patted her shoulder. "Good. Now get them ready. Final drill starts in five." Charlotte turned, raised the ball, and shouted: "THUNDERHAWKSRISE UP!" "RISE UP!" they roared back. Sweat and fire. Will and war. The final drill was just beginning. .... 7:00 PM C The Park Court The setting sun cast an amber hue across the cracked concrete court. The rusted rim creaked in the breeze, chain net clinking softly like wind chimes. Ethan jogged toward the center of the park, hoodie pulled over his head, hands in his pockets. He spotted Louie, already dribbling a ball near the free-throw line, his figure silhouetted by the fading light. Ethan raised an eyebrow, "Why are you calling me here?" Louie spun the ball in his hands and tossed it to Ethan. "Lets play. First to twenty." Ethan caught it with ease. "Raise to 20, huh? Alright." ..... The Game Begins C First to 20 The park was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of a ball bouncing on cracked concrete. The sky had turned a bruised purple, the last rays of sunlight streaking through the trees. Louie checked the ball at the top of the key, sweat already dotting his forehead from pre-game warmups. Ethan crouched low into his defensive stance, eyes locked in, knees bent, palms twitching with readiness. "(Lets see if youve grown after that match with lucas)" he thought. 1C0, Ethan. Ethan jabbed hard with his left foot, freezing Louie for just a split second. That was all he needed. He spun off a reverse pivot, keeping his dribble alive with his right, slicing into the lane like a hot knife through butter. Louie reached to contest, but Ethan had already floated the ball over his fingerssoft, clean, and nothing but net. ... 1C1. Louie didnt waste time. He drove hard to the left, bumped Ethan with his shoulder, then spun back to his right. Quick bank shotoff the glass and in. ..... 3C2, Ethan. Ethan got tricky. First, he hit a jumper with Louie right in his face. Then, on the next play, he crossed over so fast Louies feet slid. Ethan stepped back and nailed a fadeaway. Louie clenched his fists. Ethans footwork was too sharp. ... 4C3, Louie. But Louie didnt back down. He faked a step-back, then dropped his shoulder into Ethans chest and spun right. A quick bank shot off the glasshe made it look easy. ... 7C5, Ethan. Ethan caught fire. He nailed a deep corner threeperfect form. Then, on defense, he stole the ball clean and raced down the court. One smooth finger roll at the rim. Now they were both sweating. Their breathing got heavier. But neither said a word. .... 9C9. Louie drove hard again, then pulled a slick step-through move. Ethan jumped too earlyLouie finished under him. On the next play, Louie bumped Ethan in the lane, then floated one off the glass. Tied game. Ethan smirked. "Hes getting better." .... 12C11, Ethan. Ethan dribbled slow, then exploded forward. He stopped suddenly, rose for a mid-range jumpernet. Louie came back with a deep three of his owncold-blooded. But Ethan didnt flinch. He faded away on the next shot, high release, and nailed it. .... 16C13, Ethan. Ethan stayed calm and locked in. He faked right, jabbed, then stepped back and hit a clean two-pointer. Next possessionsame setup, but this time he spun into a fade. Louie had a hand in his face. Didnt matter. Net. ..... 18C16. Louie wasnt done. He shot a rainbow jumper that dropped straight through. Then he crashed the boards hard, grabbed his own miss, and tapped it back in. They were both soaked in sweat now. Shirts stuck to their backs. Breathing like runners at the finish line. ..... Final Possession 20C16, Ethan. Ethan held the ball at the top. He looked at Louie. No wordsjust focus. He jabbed lefthard. Louie bit. Ethan spun right, rose into the air, and saw Louie jumping to block him. So mid-air, Ethan adjustedtwisting his body just enoughand floated the ball over Louies hand. The ball went up. And dropped in. Swish. Game over. .... Louie bent over, catching his breath, drenched in sweat. Ethan wiped his brow, walking toward the ball, when Louie suddenly straightened and looked at him, eyes burning with something deeper. "Ethan... can I be your disciple?" Ethan blinked. "What?" Then Ethan raised his head, breathing hard. "Louie... why are you so persistent? Why do you even idolize me like that?" Louie didnt hesitate. Louies eyes softened, a quiet reverence in his voice. "Because... you are Michael Jordan in this era." Ethan tilted his head. "What?" Louie stepped back and spread his arms dramatically, looking toward the darkening sky. "You see... ever since I was a kid, I idolized the legendsKobe, Shaq, Magic, Kareem, Bird... but Michael Jordan... he was different. The greatness, the finesse, the killer instinct. The way he floated in the air..." He looked back at Ethan, passion brimming in his voice. "It was art." A pause. Louie took a breath, staring right into Ethans eyes. "And you... when I saw you play on that video... I felt it. That same fire. That grace. That greatness. It was just like him. Watching you was like watching art in motion." Ethan said nothing at first. The wind rustled the trees. Then, slowly, he smilednot prideful, not smug. Just... deeply, quietly moved. "...Youre a weird kid...." he said. Louie grinned. To be continue Chapter 54 - 41: Father vs Son Chapter 54: Chapter 41: Father vs Son July 3, 2010 C 8:10 PM Location: Albarado Backyard Court The evening air was thick with summer heat, but the wind carried a breeze just cool enough to stir the leaves on the tall trees surrounding the Albarado home. A flickering backyard light buzzed softly above the old court. Now, it stood as the battleground. A tall man in a sleeveless black shirt adjusted his wristband and rolled his shoulders. Alfred Albarado, age forty-one, was a legend in his own right. A former professional basketball champion with multiple titles under his belt, he now wore the suit of a sports analyst for BACBasketball Asian Company. But tonight? He was just a father ready to lace up again. On the opposite end stood his son, Ethan Albarado, a fourteen-year-old with sweat still clinging to his brow, eyes sharp and determined. He wasnt just Alfreds sonhe was once Jonathan Brandit, the boy who had lost it all and was now living a second life. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Bring it on, old man." ....... Twenty Minutes Earlier C Inside the Albarado Home The wooden floor creaked as Ethan stepped inside the house, his sneakers scuffed, shirt sticking to his skin, and basketball still tucked under one arm. Standing by the kitchen, arms folded and brows furrowed, Elle Albarado gave him a look that could pierce steel. "Where were you at this hour?" she demanded. Ethan blinked, caught off guard, then offered a sheepish smile. "I was playing basketball with my teammate." From the couch, Alfred glanced up, a slight smirk curling on his lips. "Hoh... so who won?" Ethan tossed the ball onto the floor, letting it roll slightly. "Of course I did." Alfred chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Cocky little brat." But there was pride in his eyes, even if he masked it behind a teasing grin. Elle, however, wasnt done. "Thats not the point. The point is why are you out this late? Its already eight at night!" Alfred subtly shifted behind the couch, wisely avoiding his wifes glare. "Shes scary when shes angry..." he thought. Ethan tried to stand tall. "Mom, Im already fourteen. I can handle myself." Elles eyes widened. "Are you talking back to your mother, huh, young man?" Ethan winced, shoulders sinking. "S-Sorry..." Elle sighed and stepped closer, placing her hands on his shoulders. "I was just worried about you, Ethan. Do you understand? I know youre a boy, and boys your age think theyre invinciblebut the world isnt kind. There are gangs, there are people who dont care if youre just a kid... What if something happened to you?" She pulled him into a sudden, tight hug. "I cant bear the thought of losing you..." Ethan was caught in the warmth of her embrace, and for a moment, his bravado melted away. "Mom..." Alfreds eyes softened as he watched them. His mind drifted to a memory he didnt want to revisit. "Elle... she still remembers that day. The day we almost lost him." Then, breaking the silence, Alfred spoke up with a teasing grin. "Well, seems like youve learned how to dribble a ball. Doesnt mean you can beat me, though." Ethan looked up, fire sparking in his golden eyes. "Hnmmph. You wanna go?" "You sure you can handle me?" "Try me, old man." Alfred raised a brow, smirking. "Alright. Backyard. Now." ... The ball echoed as Ethan dribbled, his shoes squeaking slightly against the cracked concrete. The sky above was streaked with the last traces of twilight, stars barely visible through the glow of the streetlights. Alfred stretched his arms and popped his knuckles. "First to eleven. No fouls. Street rules." "Fine by me." Ethan smirked. They walked to their respective spots. Ethan held the ball, both hands trembling slightly. "This isnt just a game." "This is me proving I belong on the court. Proving I can stand on my own." "No more being weak. No more regrets." Alfred crouched slightly, his stance solid and balanced. "You better not cry when I dunk on you." "Tch. Youre all talk." Ethan bounced the ball once, then twice. "Lets see if you still got it." "Lets see if you ever had it, rookie." Ethan look focus.. "(Im not the same as before when I was kid.)" "(Im Ethan. And I wont losenot even to you, Dad.)" The ball hit the ground again. Once. Twice. Game on. ... The wind had stilled, the night air silent. All that could be heard now was the rhythm of the game. Thump. Thump. Thump. Ethan dribbled the ball with sharp control, eyes locked on his father. Alfred crouched low, his stance grounded, eyes calmwatching Ethan the way a veteran predator watches its prey. Not out of malice, but with the clarity of someone whos been here too many times before. "Hes fast," Alfred thought, narrowing his eyes. "But not enough." Ethan lunged forward, pretending to drive left then spun right, dribbling past Alfreds hip. "Heh!" He stepped into the paint and jumped, launching a quick floater. Swish. "1C0." Ethan grinned. "What was that about not crying, old man?" Alfred simply chuckled. "Nice move. But thats the only freebie youre getting tonight." ... Score: 1C1 Alfred now had the ball. Ethan braced himself, determined to stop him. But Alfred didnt rely on tricks. He used weight, timing, and balance. With a steady dribble and a slow pivot, he spun, placed his back to Ethan, and backed him down like a true post player. Ethan tried to push back. "Why is he so heavy?!" Alfred faked left, then turned to fade away. The shot arced high and smooth, textbook. Swish. "Experience always wins round two." Alfred smirked. "1C1." ....... The Middle Game The next few points were a blur of effort, sweat, and competitive fire. Ethan made it 2C1 with a fast break pull-up jumper. Alfred tied 2C2 with a no-look spin drive. Ethan pushed to 3C2 using his speed to do a reverse layup. Alfred countered to 3C3 by faking a drive and stepping back for a clean jumper. Each time Ethan thought he had an edge, Alfred respondednot with brute force, but with elegance carved from decades of mastery. "(Hes not even breaking a sweat...)" Ethan wiped his forehead. "(But I wont give in. I wont let this court decide who I am. Im going to win. Even if I have to crawl.)" ....... The Final Stretch Score: 6C6 They had been going for nearly twenty minutes. Ethan was breathing heavier now, his shirt drenched, legs burning. Alfred? Still calm. "Tired?" he asked casually. "N-Not even close." Ethan said between gulps of air. Alfred passed him the ball. "Then show me." Ethan dribbled aggressively, trying a crossover. Alfred stepped intiming it just rightand knocked the ball away. "Too wild," Alfred muttered. He scooped the ball, turned, and laid it in. 7C6. Ethan clenched his fists. "(Why does it feel like no matter how hard I try, he always sees through me?)" "(Is this what it felt like to play against someone like Dad?)" Alfred passed the ball back to him with a smile. "Youre not bad, Ethan. Youve got drive, instinct... heart." "Then why cant I win?" Ethan shouted, voice cracking. "Because heart isnt everything. Not yet." Alfreds eyes were serious now. "Youre goodbut Ive lived this game longer than youve been alive. Its not just about speed or power. You soon understand it" Score: 10C8 Ethan had fought his way back. He scored off two transition plays, catching Alfred slightly off-guard. But he was near his limit now. His hands trembled as he dribbled. One more point. But so did Alfred. Alfred stood at the top of the key. He bounced the ball once, then twice. Ethan planted his feet. "(Please... Just let me stop him once.)" Alfred feinted left. Ethan moved. But Alfred wasnt attacking. He was watching. Reading. The moment Ethan shifted his weight Crossover. Drive. Spin. Layup. 11C8. Game. .... Ethan clenched his jaw, looking down at his trembling hands. Sweat trickled down the side of his face, but it wasnt just from exhaustion. It was from something deeperfrustration, confusion, and the sting of defeat. "I lost..." he whispered under his breath. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. He looked up slightly and watched his father, Alfred, calmly spinning the ball on his fingertip, like it was nothing. Ethans thoughts swirled. (I thought I became strong... I thought I could defeat many basketball players because I have the system... I thought I was special. But I lost to someone whos retired... someone whos not even in shape for basketball anymore...) He grit his teeth harder. (I trained... I unlocked skills... I upgraded my stats... but still...) His fists clenched at his sides. (Was it not enough?) Alfred walked over to him, dribbling slowly, and finally stopped in front of him. He saw the fire in Ethans eyesthe pain of someone who gave everything but still fell short. "You did good, son." Ethan didnt answer. Alfred crouched down, lowering himself to his sons eye level. "You played with heart, Ethan. And trust me, I felt that." He smiled. "But experience? Experience isnt something you can download into your body." "But" "No. Listen to me." Alfreds voice was firm, his expression serious but proud. "Losing to someone better than you means youve still got room to grow. Ive lost too, Ethan. Many times. But each time I did... I learned." He placed a hand on Ethans shoulder. "You wanna know what made me get back up after every loss?" Ethan looked up. Alfred smiled faintly and said, "Michael Jordan once said, Ive failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed." Ethans eyes widened slightly, and the words hit deeper than any dunk or shot. "I teach," Alfred continued. "You reach. You rise. You grow. Thats how champions are madenot in games they win, but in games like this. Games that burn. Games that hurt." Ethan bit his lip. "I just wanted to prove Im not weak anymore..." Alfred meeting his eyes. "You proved it. Not because you wonbecause you fought. You didnt give up. You challenged me. Thats more than most kids your age would do." "Youre not weak, Ethan." "Youre just not done yet." Slowly, a tear slipped down Ethans cheek. He wiped it away quickly, embarrassed. "Tch. You win this time, old man. But next time..." Alfred smirked. "Next time, I wont go easy." "You didnt go easy this time!" They both laughedfather and son. The ball rolled away, forgotten for now. The lights above the court flickered softly, shining on two shadowsone tall and experienced, the other young and full of potential. And even though Ethan had lost, something inside him felt stronger... To be continue Chapter 55 - 42: Lucas’ Dilemma Chapter 55: Chapter 42: Lucas Dilemma July 4, 2010 C 6:00 AM The sun had just begun to rise, casting golden rays over the pristine private court just outside the Graves family estate. The morning air was crisp, the sky a gradient of soft blues and oranges. Birds chirped in harmony with the rhythmic sound of a basketball hitting the polished pavement. The court they owned wasnt just any court. It was built by the best, equipped with high-tech sensors, perfect flooring, and even motion-analysis systems. A gift from his mother, Romanov Graves, CEO of the Basketball Asian Company and once a WNBA champion turned empire builder. Thump... thump... tap... Lucas Graves, drenched in early morning sweat, pushed his bangs back with a grin. His yellow eyes sparkled beneath the sunlight, even as his body groaned from the constant repetition. "Again." Lucas tried to copy Ethans crossover, that quick flash of the ball from left to right, followed by a smooth hesitation move that made defenders freeze like they were glitching. Then came the pull-back dribble. He started with a crossovera quick left-to-right dribble intended to shake the defenders balance. "Clean... but not enough." Then into a hesitation move (hesi)a sudden pause, the illusion of a shot to make his imaginary defender flinch. "Still too stiff..." Followed by a pull-back dribble, exploding backward off his front foot, trying to create space for a clean jumper. Lucas sighed, launching the ball toward the hoop. Swish. He made the shot, but still... "This isnt him." "Its close... but its not Ethan." He bent over, hands on his knees, panting. Sweat dripped from his chin, hitting the court with a tiny splash. "No matter how much I refine it... I cant match the rhythm. The tempo. Its like his body just reacts differently." Lucas wasnt the jealous type. But he was the curious type. And above allhe was the type who wanted to improve, every single day. His lips curled into a small smile. "Alright, then. If I cant copy it exactly..." He straightened up and spun the ball on his fingertip, sunshine glinting off his smile. "Ill make it mine." Lucas began reworking the flow. Rather than strictly copying Ethans sequence, he adjusted it to suit his own strengths: Instead of a traditional crossover, he added a wrap dribble, swinging the ball behind his back in a circular motion to maintain momentum. He added a fake spin, quickly turning his shoulders one way then bouncing back, giving defenders a false read. After the pull-back, he integrated a quick-footed stepback, mimicking a rhythm-dance, then elevated into a high-arc jump shot. Swish. He grinned, fist-pumping the air. "Yessss! Thats it! Thats my move now!" ... What Lucas didnt knowwhat he couldnt knowwas that the way Ethan moved wasnt just instinct or training. It was enhanced. Each step, each fake, each subtle motion was boosted by the unseen hand of a mysterious system. A system Lucas had no access to. But that didnt matter to him right now. He bounced the ball again and laughed to himself. "Man... that guy really inspires me." His smile never faded, not even for a second. "I need to master my ability... so that Im ready the next time we play against stronger opponents." He glanced up at the sky, full of hope and determination. "Were gonna become champions. I just know it." And so, while the world still slept, Lucas trained with joy in his heartunaware of the storm that lay ahead, or the impossible gap between him and Ethan. But if there was one thing about Lucas Graves... He never stopped hoping, because he never stopped trying. .... As the early morning breeze ruffled Lucass hair as he lined up for another shot, sweat tracing glowing paths down his cheeks. His heart beat to the rhythm of the game, full of energy and joy Riiing. Riiing. Riiing. The sound of his phone cut through the morning stillness like a siren. Lucas blinked, confused for a moment, then turned toward the bench where his phone was vibrating against the cool metal surface. He jogged over, wiping his hands on his shorts, and picked it up. "Hello? Sis?" he answered with a smile, still catching his breath. But what came next shattered everything. "Lucas..." her voice trembled. "Father... Fatherhes almost out of breath..." Lucass heart stopped. His smile vanished. "What? What do you mean?" His voice cracked mid-sentence. For a moment, the world fell silent around him. The morning breeze stilled. Even the birds seemed to pause. His sister choked on her words. "The doctor said... its critical. He might not make it." His body froze. His mind ran back to that day. Three years ago. The accident. The flashing lights. The stillness of the hospital bed. His fatherRoman Gravesthe strong, towering figure who once played with him, coached him, laughed with him... reduced to a fragile frame hooked to tubes and wires. A coma that had stretched like an unending nightmare. One Lucas hoped would break. One he prayed over every single night. "No... No. No, no, no..." Lucas muttered, panic creeping into every syllable. "Im coming! Siswait for me, Im coming!" He ended the call and bolted. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Lucas rushed up the garden path, taking the steps two at a time. He slammed the front door open and sprinted upstairs. His breath was sharp and ragged, but his mind was focused. He threw his bedroom door open. His room was a whirlwind of trophies, jerseys, posters of legends like Kobe Bryant, Michael Jordan, and his own motherRomanov Graves. He tore open his closet, grabbed the first hoodie he saw, yanked on some jeans, and slipped on his sneakers like second nature. His duffel bag lay in the cornerhalf-zipped from yesterdays training. He grabbed it anyway. In thirty seconds, Lucas was out the door again, phone in one hand, bag slung over his shoulder, heart hammering against his chest like a war drum. "Please... please hang in there, Dad..." As he sprinted out of the house, the morning sun cast golden rays across the empty court. The basketball sat where he had left it. Bouncing no more. Just still. Like a memory. Lucas ran down the street, his breath sharp and fast, waving desperately as a yellow taxi turned the corner. "Taxi!" he shouted, voice strained and urgent. The driver slowed down, rolling the window halfway. "Where to, kid?" "St. Mercy Hospital. Fast as you canplease!" The door swung open. Lucas threw himself into the backseat, heart pounding, hands shaking. The door slammed shut, and the cab peeled off, tires squealing lightly against the pavement. As the city blurred past the window, Lucas leaned forward, gripping the edge of the front seat. "Please hang on, Dad... please." His eyes were wide, filled with fear, but in the depth of that fear hope still burned. Even in chaos, Lucas Graves never let go of hoe. ..... St. Mercy Hospital C Second Floor, Room 1 VIP Lucas raced down the pristine white hallway, his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. His heart beat louder than his footsteps. Every second stretched like eternity. He stopped in front of Room 1 VIP, its gold-plated nameplate shining under the fluorescent light. His hand trembled as he reached for the doorknob. Click. The door creaked open. Inside, the air was cold. Sterile. Heavy. There, beside the large hospital bed, stood his sister Charlotte Graves. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, her eyes red and swollen from tears. The sterile smell of antiseptic lingered, mixing with the soft beeping of heart monitors and the faint hiss of an oxygen machine. "Their father, Roman Graves, once a strong basketball star, now lay still in bed, weak and unmoving. A mask covered his face to help him breathe, and tubes and machines surrounded him. His chest slowly rose and fell, like gentle waves on a quiet beach. Lucas stepped in quietly. "Sis... hows Dad?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Charlotte turned her head toward him. Her usual stoic expression the calm, composed face she wore even when others couldnt crack. Tears slid down her cheeks again. She tried to hold them back, but the sight of Lucas... her little brother... broke her composure. She let the tears fall. "Lucas... I was so scared..." she whispered, her voice breaking. "I thought... I thought this was it... That I was going to lose him today..." Lucas walked over, his chest tight, and wrapped his arms around her. "Its okay, sis... Im here. Well get through this. Together," he said, holding her tightly. In that moment, they werent the heirs of a basketball empire. They werent the children of champions. They were just two kids. Scared. Hurt. Hoping. The door opened with a soft click and in stepped a man in a white coat Dr. Keiji Yamamoto, the family physician who had been overseeing their fathers condition for years. He carried a clipboard, his face neutral but gentle. He removed his glasses slowly before speaking. "Lucas. Charlotte," he nodded at each of them. "I just finished reviewing your fathers EEG and neurological data." The siblings looked up at him, eyes wide with worry. Dr. Keiji continued. "This morning, your father experienced what we refer to as a seizure-like episode. Now, before you panic, let me clarify this is not uncommon in patients whove been in a prolonged coma." Charlotte wiped her face. "You mean... hes not..." "Hes stable," the doctor confirmed, nodding reassuringly. "His vitals are steady, and the seizure did not cause any additional damage. The brainwaves indicate a reactive pattern which could actually be a sign that his brain is still... fighting. Still responding." Lucas stepped closer to the bed, staring at his fathers still frame. He reached for his hand cold, but alive. "Is there any chance he might... wake up?" he asked, his voice cautious but filled with hope. Dr. Keiji hesitated not out of doubt, but out of the weight of honesty. "There is always a chance," he said gently. "And your fathers condition, while difficult, has been stable for the last year. If his brain continues to show activity like this, we may be able to try neural stimulation therapy again." Charlotte sniffled, taking a shaky breath. "So, we... we just have to keep waiting?" Dr. Keiji nodded. "Waiting. Hoping. And being here for him. Your presence matters more than you know." He turned to leave, placing a reassuring hand on Lucass shoulder. "Youre both stronger than most kids your age. Hed be proud." As the door closed, the room fell into a soft silence again, broken only by the steady rhythm of the heart monitor. Lucas sat beside the bed, still holding his fathers hand. His sunshine smile was gone for now, replaced by quiet resolve. "Youre still fighting, huh...?" he whispered, voice cracking. "Then Ill fight too. For you, for sis, for everything." Charlotte sat beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. And though the world outside moved forward with the rising sun, time inside that small, cold hospital room stood still. Yet, deep down, both of them believed... One day, their father would open his eyes again. ..... July 4, 2010 C Unknown Location Time: 2:00 pm "The Secret Room" Deep beneath the surface of society, hidden beneath polished buildings and legitimate fronts, a dark meeting unfolded. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a large circular table at its center, where seven figures sat in silence. The air was thick with tension, secrets, and the weight of power. At the head of the table sat a bald old man, his face lined with age, but his eyes sharp like blades honed through decades of manipulation. His fingers tapped lightly on the table. Each tap echoed like a countdown. To his left, a lean 40-year-old man sat in a sleek black suit, legs crossed, his expression far too casual for the weight of their meeting. His smile, however, was unsettling the kind that twisted with every word. To the old mans right, a 50-year-old woman dressed in sharp crimson red rested her chin on one hand. She radiated calculation, like every word she uttered was a move on a board only she could see. Next to them sat four more: A brooding 30-year-old man, eyes narrowed, face pale with disdain. A sharp-eyed 30-year-old woman, her nails tapping a rhythm against her datapad. A poised 36-year-old woman, hands gloved, her posture like a coiled serpent. And a gruff 38-year-old man, scars visible even beneath his suit, voice gravelly and short-tempered. The bald old man broke the silence with a low voice that cut through the air like ice: "Ive received the report... Roman Graves had another episode." The 30-year-old man was first to speak, his voice dripping with sarcasm and subtle fear. "Yes, sir. According to the informants, it was a seizure. The medical staff called it natural... but Romanov Graves isnt stupid. Shes doubled security around his room. All doctors and nurses are from her inner circle." The 38-year-old man leaned forward, slamming his fist lightly on the table. "Tsk... that damn woman. Why the hell did she start digging again? She was supposed to move on. What if she connects the dots?" The 36-year-old woman let out a soft sigh, her eyes glinting behind her glasses. "If she hadnt started investigating the coma treatments again, we wouldve had smooth sailing. All operations were running clean." Silence returned for a beat. Then the 40-year-old man gave a soft chuckle elegant, but cold as steel. "Now, now... lets erase those negative thoughts, shall we?" he said, a playful menace in his tone. He picked up his sleek communication device and pressed a button. A metallic sound followed as the heavy door swung open. Two guards in dark tactical gear entered, faces obscured by masks. "Yes, Master?" one of them asked. The 40-year-old man smiled wide, like a host preparing for a twisted party. "Prepare a basketball tournament. The usual... underground location, high stakes. Make the prize pool... tempting. Include betting lines for the gamblers real money, big returns." He paused, then added smoothly, "And dont forget the drugs. Keep the product moving through the players and crowds. The more they crave it, the more they pay." The guards nodded. "Sir, yes sir." They vanished with the same silence they entered. The 50-year-old woman raised an eyebrow. "Isnt it risky now, with BAC monitoring tighter than before?" The bald old man finally leaned forward, the dim light casting shadows across his face. "Risk is what makes power valuable. The more danger we swim through, the stronger our grip. Romanov Graves will fall into line soon... or shell be buried by the truth." He looked at each of them, slowly, deliberately. "Continue the operations. But keep your eyes open. The children are pawns. The parents are shields. But every shield can crack..." His finger tapped the table once again. Tap. Tap. Tap. To be continue Chapter 56 - 43: Team Status Chapter 56: Chapter 43: Team Status July 4, 2010 Time: 7:00 AM Location: Graves Family Gym The gym echoed with the rhythmic thumps of basketballs and squeaks of sneakers slicing across the wooden court. Morning light filtered in through the high windows, casting long streaks of gold on the floor like it was highlighting fate itself. Ethan Albarado stood by the sideline, arms crossed, watching. Observing. "(Hmmm...)" he thought, his golden hair glinting under the beam of light, sweat clinging to his brows from his early drills. His sharp blue eyes werent watching the ball. They were watching his team his investment. Starters (With +2 Boost Applied) Evan Cooper (Point Guard) C Level: Slightly Above Average [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 9 Layup Skill: 9 Dunk Skill: 7 Dribbling Skill: 10 Passing Skill: 10 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 9 Blocking Ability: 7 Steal Skill: 9 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 9 Endurance: 9 Speed: 9 ... Josh Turner (Shooting Guard) C Level: Average (Ankle on Healing) [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 8 Layup Skill: 7 Dunk Skill: 6 Dribbling Skill: 7 Passing Skill: 7 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 8 Blocking Ability: 7 Steal Skill: 8 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 8 Endurance: 8 Speed: 8 ... Ryan Taylor (Power Forward) C Level: Average [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 7 Layup Skill: 8 Dunk Skill: 7 Dribbling Skill: 6 Passing Skill: 7 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 9 Blocking Ability: 9 Steal Skill: 8 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 9 Endurance: 9 Speed: 8 .... Brandon Young (Center) C Level: Average [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 7 Layup Skill: 8 Dunk Skill: 8 Dribbling Skill: 5 Passing Skill: 6 ..... [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 9 Blocking Ability: 10 Steal Skill: 7 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 9 Endurance: 8 Speed: 7 ........ Bench (With +3 Boost Applied) Coonie Smith (PG/SG) [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 8 Layup Skill: 6 Dunk Skill: 4 Dribbling Skill: 8 Passing Skill: 7 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 7 Blocking Ability: 5 Steal Skill: 8 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 7 Endurance: 7 Speed: 8 ..... Jeremy Park (Power Forward) [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 7 Layup Skill: 7 Dunk Skill: 6 Dribbling Skill: 5 Passing Skill: 5 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 8 Blocking Ability: 10 Steal Skill: 7 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 9 Endurance: 9 Speed: 8 .. Kai Mendoza (Small Forward) [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 9 Layup Skill: 8 Dunk Skill: 6 Dribbling Skill: 9 Passing Skill: 7 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 9 Blocking Ability: 6 Steal Skill: 8 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 8 Endurance: 8 Speed: 9 Ethans Thoughts: ("I used up 2000 hard-earned points from July 3... all for this boost. 2 day of grinding, waking up at 4AM, lifting, learning, earning every damn bit. And yet... it still doesnt feel enough. But at least... its bearable now.") He glanced at his system storage. [Team Synergy Card] C 3 Uses "All teammates gain +2 to all attributes for 10 minutes." His fingers twitched slightly. Not yet. Not until the real battle. Then his eyes drifted. Toward the far end of the gym. Where he was. Lucas Graves C Guard/Forward (#10) Level: Anomaly Ability: Absolute Mimicry C Can copy and refine any skill or move he sees in real-time. Time with Power: 3 Days Background: Just 4 days ago, Lucas was at the bottom overlooked, untalented, and ignored. But the moment he awakened Absolute Mimicry, he began absorbing techniques like a sponge. His improvement is so rapid, its unsettling. What he lacks in experience, he compensates with raw adaptation and elite stamina. ..... [Core Attributes] [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 10 (Still adjusting to mechanics, but mimicking elite shooters fast) Layup Skill: 10 (Has copied multiple finishing styles and adapted them) Dunk Skill: 7 (Vertical improving from mimicry training, can dunk in open space) Dribbling Skill: 11 (Mimics ankle-breaking crossovers, lightning quick hands) Passing Skill: 10 (Developing feel for game flow; surprising vision at times) [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 8 (Adopts pro-level stances and reads like a veteran) Blocking Ability: 8 (Good timing from observing elite shot blockers) Steal Skill: 8 (Mimics aggressive hands and pick-pocket techniques) [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 15 (Non-stop motor. He doesnt get tired. Except using his Absolute Mimicry) Endurance: 15 (Can play intense minutes without burning out) Speed: 9 (Fast, twitchy reactions tracks ball and players like a hawk) Ethans Thought: "As expected of the protagonist... Hes not just catching up. Hes sprinting past the ceiling." Lucas was moving through a solo drill a brutal combination of elite crossovers, fadeaways, Eurosteps, and no-look passes. Every move wasnt just copied. It was sharpened. Like he saw the flaw in the original and perfected it in real-time. He was the kind of player you didnt coach. You just stepped back and prayed he wasnt on the other team. Evan Cooper approached Ethan, holding a ball under his arm. His gaze flicked toward Lucas, then back to Ethan. He tried to keep his tone even. "What should we do, Ethan?" he asked. There was no edge, but there was honesty and maybe a hint of jealousy. Even though Evan was officially the team captain, even he couldnt deny it. When it came to strategy... pressure... game-breaking decisions... Ethan Albarado was the heart of this squad. And Evan? He just wanted to win. Thats all that mattered to him. Ethan responded with a calm breath. The weight of the moment sat on his shoulders. Ethan inhaled slowly, then spoke with quiet certainty. "Since July 6 is our official match against the Thunderhawks... Yeah, you all know. All-girls team. But dont let that fool you." He paced forward slightly, his eyes locked on each teammate. "Theyre not weak. Theyre not just good, theyre dangerous. They nearly made it to the championship last year. Only reason they didnt?" "One of their players got injured." His voice tightened with intensity. Then his gaze turned to Lucas. "And their captain... Charlotte Graves. AKA The Silver Hawk. Or some of you might know her as" A short pause. "The Silver Falcon. Shes that good. Plays like she belongs in a mens league. Hell, she could school most of us without even trying." Lucas froze for half a second. ("Sis...") He thought silently. His grip on the ball unconsciously tightened. Ethan let the weight of that moment sit before glancing around the gym. He exhaled again, then turned to Lucas and gave a respectful nod. "Since were using your gym today..." He gave a slight grin. "Thanks, Lucas." Lucas responded with a shrug, almost shyly. "No problem." Then, without skipping a beat, Ethans face twisted with mock frustration. He jabbed a thumb toward the empty office in the corner of the gym. "As for Coach... well, lets be real." He raised his voice. "That useless, lazy-ass sack of trash is probably still asleep in his bed, snoring like a goddamn pig." The whole gym burst into laughter. The kind of laugh that breaks tension and builds camaraderie. Even Lucas cracked a smirk. Ethan clapped his hands once, loud. It echoed like a gunshot. "Alright! Enough standing around." Ethans voice rang through the gym like a lightning bolt, sharp and alive. The players stopped, their muscles already warmed up from the drills theyd done before, but now they felt the real weight of what was to come. "Lets get to work. Training starts NOW!" The gyms echo still lingered when Coonie Smith raised his hand, a look of mild confusion on his face. "Whats the training gonna be, Ethan?" The question wasnt disrespectful, just the kind of inquiry that came from someone trying to make sense of the moment. Coonie was solid not a natural leader, but reliable in a clutch. He was just trying to understand the game plan. Ethan blinked, his brows furrowed for a split second. "Oh shit, I forgot to tell you guys." Everyone sighed collectively. Ethan was the type who jumped into things and sometimes forgot to explain the details. "You forgot? Really, Ethan?" Coonie muttered, shaking his head. Ethan let out a half-grin, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Alright, alright. Phase 1." He raised his hands, palms out, signaling the start of something important. "Phase 1: Foundation & Footwork. You want to know how to dominate the court? You build the base first. Every elite defender has impeccable stance, speed, and lateral movement. We work on those now. Trust me, the little things win games." The team nodded, absorbing his words. This was the foundation of everything. Ethans tone shifted, becoming steady again as he moved to the first drill. "1. Mirror Slide Drill (Eye Contact Only) " The gyms air felt thick with focus as Ethan demonstrated, moving in fluid motion across the court, gliding effortlessly as if the floor was made of ice. "Partner up." he instructed, and everyone quickly paired off. Ethan walked over to Brandon Young, their eyes meeting for a moment before they fell into position. Lucas Graves stood across from Evan Cooper. The group quickly lined up in two parallel rows, facing each other. "Remember," Ethans voice cut through the rising tension. "The goal is simple: mirror each others movement, but only with eye contact. Dont get distracted. Keep the flow tight. Eyes locked." Brandon looked at him skeptically. "Just eyes? No ball?" Brandon asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "No ball. No fakes. Just you and your partner. You need to react faster than your brain can think. Focus on the tiniest movement." Ethans voice was firm, almost pushing Brandon to accept the challenge. The two of them began. Ethan slid to his left, his body low and balanced, mirroring Brandons movement. Their eyes stayed locked as their feet shuffled back and forth in perfect synchronization. The tension in their stance was palpable, the entire gym quiet except for the sound of sneakers against the floor. "Focus on staying low, always. Keep those knees bent." Ethans internal mantra repeated as he guided Brandon through the drill. The rest of the team followed suit. It was grueling work, but they could feel the benefit the connection between movement and mental focus sharpened with every second. Each time they mis-stepped, it was like their bodies recalibrated themselves for next time. .... The next drill was on the horizon, and Ethan didnt waste time. "2. Cone Shuffle Gauntlet" Ethan took a step back, his eyes scanning the court. Six cones lay in a zig-zag pattern across the gym, each placed precisely to test the players speed and agility. The challenge was about to get real. "Heres how this works. Youll sprint forward between the cones, slide to one side, then backpedal. Repeat the pattern, moving at full speed. But" His eyes flicked towards Josh Turner, who was stretching lightly, careful not to put too much weight on his healing ankle. "Add a little chaos, yeah? Im going to shout out a color, and you react. You dont know whats coming." The players lined up, feet set in their positions. "The focus here is quick changes of direction under pressure." Ethan said, his eyes narrowing with intensity. "Your brain needs to react to that color fast before your body does. Speed is important, but mental speed matters more." With a sharp whistle, Ethan shouted: "RED!" And the team exploded into motion. Josh sprinted forward, his movements careful, still favoring his healing ankle as his eyes darted toward Ethan. He slid left at the exact moment Ethan shouted. His legs pumped harder as he pushed through the discomfort, trying to stay ahead of the mental fog that threatened to cloud his focus. Ethan eyes settled on Josh Turner, the Shooting Guard, as he moved through the drills. His movements were sharp, but Ethan could see the subtle limp in his step, the slight favoring of his right ankle. Josh had been pushing through the pain, but it was clear to Ethan that his recovery wasnt as fast as the others. Despite the ointment Ethan had given him from his System, Josh was still healing. It wasnt as bad as it had been before, but it wasnt perfect, either. Ethan could tell Josh was trying to mask it, hiding the discomfort behind his usual drive and competitive spirit. ... Finally, the last drill. "3. Shadow Pursuit Drill (No Contact Rule)" This one was built for intensity. The players set up in pairs again, and this time it was Lucas who spoke up, his eyes fixed on Ethan. "Whats the deal with this one?" Lucas asked, his voice a quiet mix of curiosity and focus. "Youll be the shadow. Stick to your partner. No contact. You have to stay within arms reach of your opponent. This drill teaches you how to close space with control, not recklessly. Keep your distance, but dont give them an inch." Lucas, despite his advanced skill, understood the importance of this drill. It was all about discipline. Not giving away your position while staying close enough to react. Ethan demonstrated briefly, closing in on Ryan Taylor, staying just an inch behind him, moving without touching him. It was almost like dancing, a subtle battle of positioning, speed, and awareness. .... The drills started to blend together into a perfect storm of preparation. As The sound of squeaking sneakers and labored breathing filled the gym like a heartbeat. Bodies moved like machines, cutting, sliding, shadowing, adapting. Every player was locked in, molded by Ethans voice, his drills, and the energy of something bigger than just practice. Ethan Albarado stood in the center of it all, arms crossed, expression composed but alert. His eyes tracked every pair of feet, every mistake, every bit of effort. This was his court now. Then CREAK. The gym doors swung open with a sudden gust of warm summer air and the sharp squeal of old hinges. Everyone turned for a moment, instincts pulling them toward the sound. A boy stood there, panting, hands on his knees. Louie Gee Davas. 13 years old. Rookie. Shorter than most, a skinny, with black a little bit brown hair flattened from a nap, and a jersey bag slung awkwardly over one shoulder. His expression was sheepish, but his eyes were bright. Ethans gaze landed on him like a weight. "Youre late." Louie scratched the back of his head, giving a nervous laugh as he stepped inside. "Sorry, hehehe... I slept too much and... I also got lost." He gave a goofy grin that didnt help his case. The whole gym paused. A few chuckles came from the group. Someone whispered, "Classic Louie..." and kept shuffling through their cone drill. Ethan exhaled through his nose, sharp and tired. "Change into your jersey." He turned slightly, still watching his players move through Phase 1. "Ill fill you in on the training after that." Louie nodded quickly, saluted in an exaggerated motion like a soldier trying too hard. "Sir, yes sir!" Ethan didnt even look at him this time. "Sir, my foot." His tone was dry, deadpan. A burst of laughter echoed through the gym. Even Lucas smile mid slide. Josh Turner doubled over and pointed at Louie. Louie raised both hands as if surrendering and jogged toward the locker room, still laughing to himself. "Not even ten minutes in and Im already catching heat..." he muttered under his breath. Ethan shook his head but smiled faintly. "Hes a mess" he sighed To be continue Chapter 57 - 44: Brotherhood Chapter 57: Chapter 44: Brotherhood Inside the gym, the sound of sneakers screeching against the floor echoed again and again. Everyone was giving their all, sliding, sprinting, turning, and moving like their lives depended on it. Sweat rolled down their faces and soaked their clothes, but not a single person slowed down. This was Phase 1 of their trainingand everyone took it seriously. Ethan Albarado stood silently at the side of the gym, his arms crossed, watching every move. His eyes were sharp, not just looking at how his teammates movedbut also what they were thinking, how they were feeling, and how hard they were trying. He looked at Lucas Graves first. Lucas was going through the Cone Shuffle Gauntlet, his body moving with precision. He didnt look tired. In fact, he looked like someone who had done this a thousand times. Every step was sharp, fast, and focused. "(Lucas really works hard... He is not just doing drills. Hes perfecting them. Like he knows exactly what to fix, even better than the original move hes copying.)" Ethan thought. Then Ethan looked at Louie Gee Davas, their newest teammate, just 13 years old. Louie wasnt as fast or smooth as Lucas, but his effort stood out. He was clearly trying his hardest to keep up with everyone else. He slipped once, but got up right away and kept going. "(Louie is still new... but he doesnt give up. Thats what matters the most.)" Ethan thought with a small nod. His eyes shifted again, this time to Coonie Smith. Coonie had short hair and a strong posture. He was doing the Mirror Slide Drill, and his footwork was actually better than expected. "(Coonies footwork is solid. Thats the start of a great defender. If he keeps this up, hell be reliable on defense.)" Ethan thought, slightly impressed. On the other side of the court, Jeremy Parka Korean American with long hair that looked like a rockstarswas doing the Shadow Pursuit Drill. He was trying his best to stay within one arms length of his partner, but his timing was off. "(Jeremy has decent awareness. He can tell where his opponent is going... but thats all. His reactions are slow. He needs more instinct, more sharpness.)" Then came Kai, a tall player with long arms and a lean body. He was moving through the drills quietly, but efficiently. "(Kai has long arms. Thats a huge advantage for defense. If he learns to use them properlyhe could stop almost any shot.)" Ethan noted mentally. Not far from Kai, the two big men of the teamBrandon Young and Ryan Taylorwere working hard. They werent flashy, but their effort was clear. Their movements were clean and they kept good form. "(Their attributes still need improvement, but they already have solid fundamentals. Thats a good foundation to grow stronger.)" Then finally, Ethans eyes landed on Evan Cooper, the official captain of Vorpal Basket. Evan was moving through the drills like everyone else. He was focused, trying to keep up, but something was different. His face looked tense. He was breathing a little heavier, and his eyes looked troubled. "(Evan... he looks like hes struggling. But not because hes tired... Its something else.)" Ethan watched closely, trying to understand what was going through Evans head. "(Hes bothered by something. Could it be me? Am I the reason?)" Ethan lowered his eyes for a second. "(Ive been leading the drills, setting the strategies, speaking up in front of the team. Evan is the captainbut Ive been acting like one too. Maybe he feels like Ive taken his place.)" That thought stayed with Ethan for a moment. He respected Evan. He was a good player, and more than that, he truly wanted to win. But even the strongest people had doubts sometimes. Especially when they felt like they were being replaced or overshadowed. "(I need to talk to him. Not in front of everyone. Just the two of us. I need to let him knowIm not trying to take anything from him. Were in this together.)" As Ethan glanced across the gym once more, his gaze eventually landed on the last player he hadnt checked on yetJosh Turner. Josh was pushing through the drills with a tight jaw and determined eyes, sweat dripping down his face. To anyone else, he looked like he was keeping up just fine. But Ethan saw something the others didnt. Joshs movements were just a little off. His steps were slightly uneven. And every now and then, hed subtly shift his weight to one side. To someone who wasnt paying attention, it wouldnt matter. But Ethan was watching closely. "(As expected... hes pushing himself too hard. Hes not fooling me. Hes still hurt. That ankle hasnt fully healed. I need to talk to him.)" Joshs ankle injury had improved a little, mostly thanks to the ointment Ethan had secretly given him from the system. But healing wasnt magic. It still needed time. And right now, Josh was acting like he was at 100% when he clearly wasnt. Ethan narrowed his eyes, worried. "(The last thing I want is for him to make it worse. If he pushes too far now... it could ruin everything. He wants to keep up with the teambut I cant let him destroy his body just for pride.)" The moment there was a short break in the drill rotations, Ethan made his move. He stepped across the court, weaving through teammates who were catching their breath and drinking water. He walked straight toward Josh, who was hunched over slightly, trying to stretch out his leg and hide the discomfort. Ethan stopped in front of him, arms at his sides, voice low but serious. "Hey, Josh. I need to talk to you for a second." Josh looked up, his face a little surprised at firstbut as usual, he quickly covered it up with that familiar confident smile. "Whats up, Ethan? You need something?" he asked, acting casual. But Ethan wasnt buying it. He looked Josh over slowly. He saw the way Joshs left foot barely touched the floor when he stood still. He noticed how he shifted his weight onto his right side just slightly, trying to keep pressure off the injury. Subtle signsbut to Ethan, they were loud and clear. "Youre still favoring that ankle," Ethan said bluntly. Joshs smile wavered just a bit. "Nah, Im good. Just a little stiff, you know? I can handle it," he replied, waving it off. Ethan didnt back down. His tone stayed calm, but his eyes were firm. "Josh... I know you want to keep up. I know you dont want to fall behind. But if you push too far now, you might not just miss a few days. You might miss the entire season." Josh looked away for a moment, silent. That hit harder than he expected. Ethan continued, lowering his voice so only Josh could hear him. "This team needs you. Not just now, but in the real game. Against the Thunderhawks. You trying to prove yourself by hiding an injury isnt strength, Josh. Its pride. And prides gonna cost you more than you think." Joshs fists tightened for a second. He hated feeling like a burden. Hated being told to slow down. But he also knew Ethan wasnt wrong. The other players looked their way briefly, but didnt eavesdrop. They knew better. A serious talk between teammates was something you respected. Josh finally exhaled, slowly. "Alright... maybe Ive been pushing it too much," he admitted, voice lower this time. "But its hard, man. Just standing back... I feel useless." Ethan shook his head. "Youre not useless. Youre injured. And thats not the same thing. Do what you can, but dont act like youre invincible. Weve got your back." Josh looked up at Ethan, the hint of a real smile forming on his face this timenot the fake confident one, but a tired, honest one. "Thanks, man... Ill take it easy. I promise." Ethan gave a nod, then reached out his fist. Josh bumped it with his own, solid and simple. And just like that, they returned to the court. One walking with a little less weight on his ankle... and the other carrying a little less worry in his chest. The gym was alive againshoes squeaking on polished wood, breathy grunts from effort, the faint echo of basketballs thudding against the floor. ..... After 10 minutes Ethan opened his status screen mentally, and there it wasshimmering faintly like always. [Quest: The Fearless Connector] Reward: 1500 SP (+500 Bonus for Passion = 2000 SP) Mission: ? Compliment every teammate on something unique. No generic compliments. ? Have a deep, meaningful conversation with a teammate you dont normally talk to. ? Include someone who looks left out. ? Deliver a 30-second speech about why teamwork matters. ? Allow the team to ask one personal question, and you must answer honestly. Ethan exhaled through his nose. "(Alright... so far Ive included someone who felt left outthat was Louie. That kid came in late and still gave his all. I made sure he felt welcome... check that one off.)" His eyes drifted again across the gym as players moved through the drillsfootwork, shuffling through cones, keeping their spacing sharp. But Ethan wasnt watching their movements anymore. He was thinking about the next part of the quest. "(The meaningful conversation? That ones tricky. The guy I picked is Aiden...)" His gaze drifted to the corner of the gym where Aiden usually trained. Empty. "(Hes not here watching. That broken ankle... Probably still stuck at the hospital. Damn. Ill have to postpone that part.)" He closed that thought and refocused. "(Then nextcompliment everyone on something unique. No generic crap like youre doing great or nice shot. Real stuff. Something theyll remember. Alright. Lets do this.)" Ethan clapped his hands loudly to gather attention. "Alright, everyone! Water break! Two minutes! And come closerIve got something to say." The team gradually walked toward him, some wiping their faces, others catching their breath. Ethan stood still at the center, eyes focused, calm but energized. He didnt raise his voice too much, but somehow, it carried across the group. He began pointing them out, one by one, a slow pacejust enough time for the words to sink in. He stepped forward. "Alright, listen up! You guys have been working hard. I want to say something to all of you." Everyone groaned and panted as they walked oversweaty, tired, some dragging their feet like zombies after the cone shuffle drill. Josh slumped down and just lay on the floor like hed been shot. "Bro... I saw my ancestors on that last drill." Coonie had his shirt over his head like a towel. "If I move one more muscle, I might evaporate." Louie, somehow still full of energy despite being late, skipped over with his water bottle like this was a summer camp. "So fun!! I feel like a ninja!" Everyone looked at him. Jeremy squinted, "Bro... are you okay?" He stepped forward. "Alright, listen up! You guys have been working hard. I want to say something to all of you." Everyone turned. "No speeches, right?" Jeremy joked. "Shut up, Jeremy." Ryan grinned. He walked up to Lucas first. "Lucas... your ability to learn by watching? Thats insane. You dont ask much, but you adjust quick. Thats something pros take years to do. You just... get it. And thats scary." Lucas blinked, surprised. "Thanks..." Then to Louie, who looked like he wasnt expecting it. "Louie. Youre raw, but your spirit never dies. You bring energy no one else can. It makes people want to try harder. Even if youre late and lost half the time." "Hey! That only happened once!" Louie protested, but his grin was wide. Next, Ethan pointed at Coonie. "Your footwork is clean. Like youve danced before. Even thought your loud you have focused. If I had to pick someone to lock down a guy one-on-one, Id start looking your way soon." Coonie raised an eyebrow. "...Appreciate it." ... To Jeremy next. "Youve got that sixth sense for where the balls going. Dont lose that. Just gotta trust yourself more. Youre smarter than you play like." Jeremy smirked. "Ill take that as a compliment." "It is, dumbass." ... He moved on. "Kai, your arms are an unfair advantage. Youre built like a cheat code. Use them more and we wont even need a shot blocker." Kai nodded silently, looking like he was processing that deeply. .. Then to Brandon and Ryan. "You two are the bricks. Solid footwork. You dont show off, but youre steady. Games are won on foundations like that." Brandon grunted. Ryan smirked. ... Then his gaze landed on Evan, the teams official captain. Ethan paused a moment, then spoke with respect. "Evanyouve been carrying a lot. Youre still trying to lead, even when I end up acting like the captain sometimes. That cant be easy. But youre here, youre consistent, and you never back down. Thats leadership. And I see that." Evans eyes met his, and there was a moment of understanding. He gave a small, genuine nod. Ethan raised his hands again. "OKAYnext part of the quest: You all get to ask me one personal question. Anything. But only one." Silence. Then Jeremy raised his hand, of course. "Whats your biggest fear?" he asked with a mischievous grin. Everyone turned to Ethan. Ethan paused. He couldve dodged. Couldve made a joke. But he didnt. "...That Ill try my hardest, give everything Ive got... and still lose the people I care about." The smiles faded. The air shifted. Even Louie stopped bouncing. Nobody laughed. Lucas knew what he meant Because realness hits different. "Damn..." Ryan muttered. "That got deep." Ethan gave a small shrug. "You asked." "Last one," he said, taking a step forward. "Teamwork speech. Lets get this over with." He cleared his throat and tried not to sound too dramatic. "Teamwork isnt just about passing the ball. Its about trust. Its about knowing the guy next to you wont give up, even when youre tired. Its about pushing each other higher. Its about covering when someone stumbles and celebrating when someone shines. Alone, we break. Together? We rise. Thats what makes a team real." Silence. Then Louie clapped. Then everyone joined inhalf sincere, half sarcastic, but still clapping. Josh gave a slow, fake sniffle. "I think Im gonna cry." Lucas patted his chest. "That was beautiful, man. So inspirational." Coonie wiped a fake tear. "Glowing hearts. I told you." Evan smirked. "Alright, alright, enough. Get back to work before he starts quoting anime openings." Ethan sighed as he looked at his teammate then suddenly Quest Tracker Updated: [4/5 Objectives Complete] ? Compliment every teammate on something unique. ? Include someone who looks left out. ? Deliver a 30-second speech about why teamwork matters. ? Allow team to ask one personal question. ? Postponed: Have a deep, meaningful conversation with a teammate you dont normally talk to (Aiden). Ethan closed the window in his mind. "(Just one left. Aiden... Ill get to him. For now, this is enough.)" He looked at his team. They werent just players anymore. They were brothers. To be continue Chapter 58 - 45: White (1) Chapter 58: Chapter 45: White (1) Date: July 4, 2010 Time: 2:00 PM Location: Ridgeview Community Hospital The midday sun cast a warm glow over the hills surrounding Mouth of Wilson, Virginia. A gentle wind stirred the tall grass along Route 16 as a lone van pulled into the gravel parking lot of Ridgeview Community Hospital. Nestled quietly between dense clusters of trees and the distant flow of the New River, the hospital stood like a calm refuge in the midst of wilderness, serving the people of Grayson County and the neighboring mountain communities for decades. Inside the van, four figures emerged one by one. Ethan Albarado stepped out first, adjusting his jacket as he looked at the modest white building ahead. Beside him was Lucas Graves, who squinted slightly under the afternoon sun, his yellow eyes scanning the structure with quiet curiosity. Evan Cooper climbed out next, pulling the door shut behind him and taking a breath of the clean, mountain air. He looked back toward the last passenger. "Louie," Evan called, "you sure you want to come?" Louie Gee Davas, the youngest among them, hopped down from the back seat with a wide grin, brushing a snack wrapper from his lap. "Im coming," he said eagerly, shouldering his small backpack. "Ive never visited someone in a hospital before! Besides, Aidens my teammate too, right?" Ethan raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Truthfully, the plan was only for three of them to goEthan, Lucas, and Evan. But Louie had insisted, practically begging to tag along until Ethan gave in with a sigh. Evan, holding a small clipboard in one hand, motioned toward the hospital entrance. "Alright," he said. "Come on. I know where his room is. Ive visited a 2 times already." The automatic doors opened with a soft whoosh as they stepped inside. The cool air inside the lobby was a sharp contrast to the summer warmth outside. Pale walls, polished linoleum floors, and the faint scent of antiseptic greeted them. Lucas looked around, his expression growing distant as he took in the clean hallways, the quiet nurses behind the reception counter, and the soft beeping of machines deeper within. His thoughts drifted. "(This hospital...)" he thought, narrowing his eyes. "(Its not like the one where Dad stayed when he was in a coma... That place felt colder. Sadder.)" He clenched his fist slightly. "(This one feels different... calmer... but still a little lonely.)" "Lucas." Ethans voice snapped him out of it. He looked up to see Ethan already several steps ahead, glancing over his shoulder. "Lets go." Ethan said. Lucas gave a small nod, snapping out of his thoughts and quickly catching up. Louie, humming softly to himself, followed close behind, looking left and right at the quiet hallways with open curiosity. They walked through a corridor with soft yellow lighting, passing several closed doors. Nurses moved gently around them, some pushing carts, others jotting notes on clipboards. A few glanced at the group of teens but said nothing. Evan led them confidently, taking a turn toward the west wing. "His rooms just up ahead." he said over his shoulder. "Room 218." Ethans steps slowed slightly. He wasnt sure how Aiden would react to visitorsespecially a group like this. But he knew it was necessary. Today wasnt just a visit. It was about connection. And healing. And more than anything else... It was about showing Aiden White that he was still part of the team. Even with his injury. Even from a hospital bed. As Evan reached for the handle and gently pushed the door open, a voice rang out from insideloud, firm, and filled with frustration. "Im going to play basketball... My ankle is gonna be healed in a month!" The door creaked wider, revealing Aiden seated on the hospital bed, his left leg elevated and wrapped in bandages. His face was flushed with emotion as he stared at the tall figure beside himhis older brother, Noah White, arms crossed, calm and composed as always. Everyone paused at the doorway. Aidens words still lingered in the air like a storm cloud, but the moment he saw the group standing therehis teammateshis expression shifted. His voice stopped cold in his throat. His eyes scanned the room. First, he saw Evan Cooperthe one person among them that Aiden considered more than just a teammate. Evan was the captain, yes, but also someone who visited him, who cared enough to show up more than once. To Aiden, Evan was a friend. Then his gaze moved toward Ethan Albarado and Lucas Graves, both of whom had once been benchwarmers. He hadnt thought much of them before. They had been quiet players, unnoticed. Teammates, but distant. But now... they were here. Lastly, his eyes landed on Louie Gee Davas, standing near the back of the group. Slim, with messy hair and wide eyes, Louie gave a small, almost awkward wave. In that moment, Aidens mind flashed backto a memory not too long ago. "(That kid... the one who tried out for the team...)" He remembered a younger, first-year student who had stood confidently during tryouts, despite his thin frame. A kid who had hustle, heart, and a handles (in short he is a prodigy . But Coach Fred didnt pick himtoo small, too fragile, he had said. And yet here Louie stood. Still part of the team. Still wearing the Vorpal practice jersey. Louie gave a sheepish smile and said with a shrug, "Well... things happened." Aiden blinked. He didnt know how to respond. Noah, watching the tension quietly unfold, gave his younger brother a firm pat on the shoulder. Then he turned to the group. "It seems like I need to leave you guys to talk things out," Noah said calmly, his deep voice carrying warmth and quiet wisdom . Everyone nodded. Even Aidenthough he didnt say anything, just gave a small nod, eyes still on the group. Noah offered one last glance toward his brother before he stepped past the group and walked out, gently closing the door behind him. Silence fell for a moment. Not awkward. Just... heavy. Ethan looked at Aiden carefully. Lucas kept his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. Louie, being Louie, simply rocked on his heels like he was waiting for someone to say something funny. "So," Aiden finally said, his voice rougher now, "You guys really all came here...?" "Of course," Evan replied without hesitation. "Were your team. We wanted to see you." Aiden leaned back into his pillows slightly. He swallowed hard, trying to act cool, but the redness creeping up his ears gave him away. "Even... them?" he asked, nodding toward Ethan and Lucas. "Even them," Evan said again, a smile forming. "Especially them." Ethan stepped forward slightly. "Were all in this together now," he said plainly. "No benchwarmers. No weak links. Just players who care." Aiden looked at him, and for a secondjust a secondEthan thought he saw a bit of that wall Aiden always kept up start to crack. Aiden stared at him, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Youre still that bastard who was so full of himself... just because you were good at basketball." There was no malice in his voicejust that classic Aiden edge, sharp but familiar. His words came out more like a habit than a genuine insult. Louie just chuckled and leaned against the wall with a shrug. "Ill take that as a compliment." His tone was light, but his eyes said something else. Respect. Like he knew Aiden didnt say things like that unless he cared. Aiden exhaled through his nose, then shifted his eyes toward the others. "hmm. Just what are you guys really doing here?" he asked, his voice dropping a bit softer. The question wasnt accusatory. It sounded more like... confusion. As if he hadnt expected themany of themto come all this way. He glanced at Ethan for a moment, brows knitting slightly. Then his gaze shifted to Lucas, who stood quietly at the back with arms folded and eyes calm. There was a flicker of something behind Aidens eyes, recognition, maybe. Or curiosity. Or doubt. He didnt know why they were here. He just knew it didnt make sense in his head. Thats when Lucas took a small step forward, his tone quiet, measured. "Ethan wants to talk to you... alone." His voice was gentle, respectful but firm enough to signal that it wasnt just a casual visit. Aiden blinked once, turning his attention fully to Ethan now. He tilted his head slightly, trying to read him. The silence that followed wasnt heavy, but it lingered. Ethan didnt say anythinghe just stood there, waiting, hands still in his pockets, calm but clearly serious. Aidens lips parted, almost uncertain, but then he let out a light sigh and nodded once. "O-okay, I guess?" His voice cracked just a little, maybe from the surprise or maybe from the vulnerability that came with suddenly being the focus. He stretched his arms and walked out with a casual pace, but even his footsteps felt like they understood the weight of the moment. Lucas gave Ethan a small nod and stepped back. Evan and lucas leaving the two in the room. Louie, of course, hesitated for a secondbut then with a sigh and a shrug, he followed Evan and Lucas out of the room, his voice fading out with a "Dont take too long, cap." The door closed softly behind them. Now it was just Ethan and Aiden. Two teammates. Once distant. One in a bed, broken but proud. The other standing, uncertain but resolved. Ethan took a breath and stepped forward, his expression serious now, not because he had something rehearsed, but because he was ready to speak honestly. ... Meanwhile, outside the hospital room... The hallway was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant beep of monitors behind closed doors. Lucas Graves leaned casually against the wall with his arms folded, his golden-yellow eyes scanning the tiled floor. Evan stood beside him, hands in his jacket pockets, posture tense but composed. Louie, the youngest of them, rocked gently back and forth on the heels of his shoes, trying to distract himself from the sterile hospital atmosphere. Then, a calm but firm voice broke the silence. "Hey." All three of them turned at once. Standing a few feet away was Noah White, tall and broad-shouldered, his expression unreadable. His eyes, dark and focused, looked older than his actual age, carved from years of responsibility and frustration. The resemblance to Aiden was therethe jawline, the eyesbut where Aiden still held onto youthful fire, Noahs face was guarded. Evan straightened slightly and offered a polite nod. "Hello, Noah." Noah didnt acknowledge the greeting right away. His gaze went past Evan and Louie, locking directly onto Lucas. "Are you trying to bring my brother back to the game," Noah said, tone low and serious, "even though he has an ankle injury? He wont be the same as he was before." Lucas blinked at himhe wasnt expecting such a direct confrontation. But instead of backing down, he gave a small, encouraging smile. His posture remained relaxed, but his voice was steady. "Yes," Lucas said simply, without hesitation. "Why are you deciding that he cant play the same way as before?" There was no sarcasm in his tonejust pure confidence and belief in Aiden. Noah narrowed his eyes slightly. "Listen... Number 10." Lucas tilted his head, confused. "Number 10?" "Yep. That jersey of yoursNumber 10, right? Graves. Number 10." Lucas chuckled softly. "Just call me Lucas. Anyway... you still didnt answer my question." There was a pause. Noah took a slow breath in through his nose, as if weighing his words carefully. Then, his voice came out rougher, less controlled. "You dont know what it feels like to have ankle injuries." Lucas raised an eyebrow. "What?" Noah looked away for the first time, his gaze drifting to the far end of the hallway. His jaw clenched briefly, and when he spoke again, it was quieter. "You dont know what its like to have everything youve builtyour movement, your control, your rhythmtaken from you overnight. I was a player too. A damn good one. Until I wasnt." Lucass smile faded slightly. He wasnt smiling because he underestimated the pain. He was smiling because he believed in recovery. In second chances. Noah continued, now turning back to face him. "My brother was on the rise. And now? Now hes stuck in a hospital bed, and people like you come around talking about hope and comebacks." There was a brief silence. Then Lucas nodded. And with surprising calmness, he said: "Youre right. I dont know what its like to live through that kind of pain. But you know what I do know?" Noah didnt answer. "I know that people dont just break physically. They break here" Lucas tapped his chest, over his heart. "when the people around them stop believing." The hallway was quiet again, the words lingering in the air. Louie glanced at Evan, who gave the smallest nod of approval, staying out of the exchange but clearly on Lucass side. Lucas met Noahs eyes again, unwavering. To be continue Chapter 59 - 46: White (2) Chapter 59: Chapter 46: White (2) Inside the quiet hospital room, the air was thick with unspoken emotions. Aiden White sat upright in his bed a pillow propped behind his back. The soft whirr of machines and distant hospital sounds were the only things keeping the silence from being absolute. Ethan Albarado stood at the foot of the bed, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders relaxed but eyes steady. He wasnt here just to pass time. This was something he had thought through carefully. Something he had to do. Aiden broke the quiet first, his voice low. "So... you wanted to talk to me?" Ethan nodded. He walked closer and pulled a chair near the bed, sitting down slowly. His eyes met Aidens. "Yeah. I did." Aiden leaned his head back slightly, his dark eyes watching Ethan with caution. He wasnt being hostilebut he wasnt exactly open either. "Okay... then talk." There was a pause. Ethan took a breath, gathering his words. Then, with his usual calm tone, he began. "I know we never talked much before. You were one of the starters. I was... just a benchwarmer." He smiled faintly, but there was no bitterness in it. "But even from the bench, I watched everything. And I mean everything." He looked Aiden in the eyes. "You had this fire. The way you moved on the courtit made people believe we had a chance no matter the score. You were that guy, Aiden." Aiden looked away, his jaw tightening, his voice laced with bitterness. "But no matter what I did... we still lost against those teams. Thats why people called us the weakest team in the world." The weight of that sentence hung in the air. Ethan didnt respond immediately. He just looked at Aidenreally lookedand then leaned in slightly, his tone steady. "Why did you play basketball in the first place?" Aiden blinked, caught off guard. "What kind of question is" But Ethan didnt let him finish. He spoke over gently, his voice carrying the clarity of someone who had already faced his own storm. "I play basketball because its my passion. Of course I want to winso badly sometimes it hurts." He exhaled deeply, gaze never leaving Aidens. "But even if I lose, even if I sit on the bench the whole game... I wont give up. Because I love basketball." There was a quiet honesty in his voice, the kind that didnt need to shout to be heard. "And you, Aiden... you used to play like the game meant something to you. Like it mattered deep down. I saw it. Every time." Aiden scoffed softly, his lips curling in frustration. "It did matter... until it didnt." Ethan leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his knees, voice lowering to a level just above a whisper. "You still have that fire." "I saw it the second we walked in here. You were yelling at your brother about getting back in a month. Thats not someone whos given up, Aiden." Aiden stayed quiet, his eyes drifting to the window where sunlight filtered weakly through pale blue curtains. He muttered under his breath: "I dont even know what Im gonna be like after this. The doctors said my ankle might not be the same again." There was a silence. Then "Dont worry," Ethan said with a faint grin, digging into his bag, "I got something that might help." He pulled out a small, dark green jar with a gold cap. "Here," he said, holding it out. "This ointment... its special." Aiden raised a brow and looked at the jar skeptically. "...Special? What, is this some kind of ancient kung fu medicine or something?" Ethan chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not exactly," he said, trying to keep his cool. But deep inside, his mind was racing. (This ointment... it can heal ankles in a week. Even if its a bad sprainas long as its not completely torn upit works. I looked at Aidens ankle... its not beyond repair. Its still got hope.) He looked at the jar in his hand and thought again, (It cost me 1000 SP. Thats not cheap. The really severe treatment ointments in the system cost 5000... I couldnt afford those. But this one... this one might be just right for him.) But just as he was lost in his thoughts, Aidens voice snapped him back to reality. "Hello? What are you spacing out for?" Ethan blinked and jolted slightly. "Ahsorry! I was just... thinking about something. What did you say again?" Aiden gave him a lookhalf amused, half annoyed. "I said... what does this ointment even do?" Ethan paused for a second, brain working overtime. (Alright... just like I did with Josh. Dont mention the system. Keep it grounded. Make it believable...) He took a breath and nodded, giving Aiden a calm, confident look. "Its from my uncle," Ethan began smoothly, "He used to treat local athletes and minor injuries for high school teams. Swears by this stuff. He mixes it himself. Its not like what you get at the pharmacyits a blend of natural anti-inflammatory herbs and pain relief. Speeds up healing, keeps the ankle from stiffening too much." He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. "Ive used it before. It wont make you jump ten feet overnight or anything, but itll help you recover smoother. Less swelling. Less pain. Better mobility." Aiden stared at the jar, its surface catching the hospital rooms pale light. His fingers curled around it slowly, like it was something fragileor maybe something he didnt want to get his hopes up about. Then, after a beat, he spoke: "Youre really going this far... for me?" Ethan didnt hesitate. His smile was calm, but there was a weight behind his words. "Youre our teammate, Aiden. That doesnt stop just because youre not on the court right now." The room went quiet again. Not awkwardjust still. Heavy. Aiden lowered his eyes to the jar in his hand, his expression unreadable. But deep inside, his thoughts stirred. (I dont know if I believe what Ethans saying... this whole uncles ointment thing sounds like something out of a cheesy sports manga.) (But... if theres even a chance it works...) He swallowed, jaw tightening as he stared down at the little jar like it might bite him. (I dont know what Ill do if it doesnt. I really dont.) Meanwhile, Ethan watched him quietly. He could see itthe flicker of doubt in Aidens eyes, the way he clutched the jar but didnt open it. That subtle shift in his shoulders, like a man caught between pride and desperation. But Ethan had seen it before. Josh was the same. And just like before, he didnt try to push. He just nodded once, steady and sure. (Youll use it. Not because you believe me. But because you want to believe theres still a shot. And thats enough.) He glanced out the window briefly before turning back to Aiden. "Dont worry about how fast you heal." "Just... dont give up before you even try." Aiden said nothing. He simply looked down at the jar, thumb slowly running across the lid. His eyes were quiet, but not empty anymore. And for now, that was more than enough. .... Back outside the hospital room... The air in the hallway was still, as if the entire corridor was holding its breath. Lucas stood firm; eyes fixed on Noah White. His voice, when it came, was calm but filled with quiet conviction. "I know that people dont just break physically. They break here" He tapped his chest, just over his heart. "when the people around them stop believing." His words echoed softly down the corridor, landing with more weight than their volume suggested. Louie shifted his stance, crossing his arms. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something more thoughtful. He glanced at Evan, who gave the smallest nodnot interrupting, but silently backing Lucas up. Lucas held Noahs gaze. There was no arrogance in his face. No pity. Just belief. Raw and unshakable. "And Im not trying to be nosy" Lucas continued. "Im just here to say that even if hes not who he used to be... he can still become someone even stronger." Noah didnt respond at first. He just stared; his expression unreadablelike someone sifting through a hundred thoughts at once but saying none of them. The silence wasnt awkward. It was heavy. Meaningful. Louies eyes moved between them, his eyebrows raising slightly. He opened his mouth to break the tension But Evan beat him to it. "Now... now," Evan said softly, voice low, trying to ease the weight in the air. Noah finally moved. He looked at Lucas again, this time with something different in his eyes. Not defiance. Not dismissal. Just... something more vulnerable. Then, finally, he spoke. "If..." he said, voice quieter than before. Lucas tilted his head slightly. "If?" Noah looked down briefly, then back up. His voice carried something that hadnt been there earlierhesitation... and a flicker of pain. "If someone gave up playing basketball years ago..., would he still be able to go back to that world?" Evan blinked, startled by the shift in tone. His mind instantly connected the dots. (Is he talking about himself...?) (Noah White... the real prodigy of the White family.) (He wasnt just Aidens older brother. He was the one everyone expected to shine. Compared to Aiden, Noah was the staralways mentioned in the same breath as Alec... Miho... Jalen...) (But after that accident... after that ankle injury...) Lucas didnt hesitate. He smiled. Not a smug smile. Not a forced one. But one full of beliefone that could only come from someone who understood what it meant to fall and want to rise again. "Of course he can," Lucas said simply. "As long as you have passion... and a heart that still loves the game..." He took a breath and added, "As long as you love it... youll always find your way back." For a moment, Noah didnt respond. But thenslowly, almost reluctantlyhe smiled. It was small. Faint. But it was real. And that was enough. Just then, the door to the hospital room creaked open. Ethan stepped out, rubbing the back of his head. "Yow. Were done talking." He looked at the group, eyebrows raising slightly. "What were you guys talking about?" Louie opened his mouth, ever the one to speak first. "They were talk" But Noah raised a hand, cutting him off with a calm voice. "Nothing. Nothing important." Ethan raised an eyebrow, but didnt push. He just nodded. There was a strange peace in the air now. A quiet understanding that something important had passed between themeven if no one else needed to say it out loud. .... Meanwhile... In the Secret Room A woman stood near the center of the room, stiff as a statue. She was around her late thirties, tall, slim, and still beautifulbut there were lines under her eyes, and her lips were pressed too tight. Her white blazer, though expensive, had lost its crispness. Her hands kept twitching at her sides like they didnt know what to do. In front of her, on a cold metal tray, sat a small white pill sealed inside a clear plastic case. It looked simply. Ordinary. But it wasnt. Across the table stood a man. But not just any manhe wore a porcelain sheep mask, white and smooth, with hollow black eyeholes. The mask made it impossible to see his expression. But his posture was calm. Too calm. He didnt move, didnt speak for a long time. Just breathed. Controlled. Patient. Watching. The woman finally broke the silence. "Are you sure this will make my son back to who he used to be?" Her voice was low, but tight with emotion. "The way he was before..." The man in the sheep mask tilted his head ever so slightly, as if he were smiling behind the mask. "Of course." His voice was slow and polished, like someone reading from a script. "This drug will make him stronger... faster... better than he was before." The womanMiss Whitedidnt move at first. Just stared at the pill. "I believe you... Sheep." Her voice trembled, but she nodded. "Ive seen those boys. The ones who play basketball like theyre not even human. Stronger. Quicker. Its like somethings inside them." The masked man let out a soft chuckle, low and smooth. "They are fast, arent they?" he said. "Explosive. Limitless." He leaned forward, just a little, his voice dropping to a quiet hum. "Now dont worry... Miss White." Her name rang out in the quiet room like a trigger. Panny White. Mother of Noah Whitethe fallen prodigy. And Aiden Whitethe boy always living in someone elses shadow. She clutched her purse tighter against her side. She had tried everythingdoctors, therapists, even private trainers. But nothing could bring back the brilliance Noah once displayed on the court. And now, Aiden was broken, both physically and mentally. But this pill... This pill was a rumor passed through hushed whispers in her elite circle. Said to awaken potential. Said to defy biology. She had dismissed it as fantasyuntil she saw it firsthand. (I will make you great again, Noah...) (And Aiden... even if you were never born with your brothers gift) (I will give you one.) Her hand finally moved. Slowly, carefully, she slid the case across the table until it was in her grasp. Inside, the pill sat quietlysmall, unassuming, yet heavy with promise. The plastic bottle felt smooth, almost too perfect. She gripped it tightly. But what she didnt knowwhat Sheep never mentionedwas the truth. There was a cost. Because the drug didnt just change the body. It reached deeper. Into the mind. Into the soul. And once it took hold... There was no turning back. To be continue Chapter 60 - 47: White (3) Chapter 60: Chapter 47: White (3) Location: Ridgeview Community Hospital C Room 217 Time: 3:26 PM Date: July 4, 2010 The room was filled with light banter and warmth, something rarely found in a hospital. Four boys Ethan, Lucas, Evan, and Louie gathered around the recovering Aiden White, who sat up against his pillows with a slight smile, the atmosphere not heavy like before. Louie crossed his arms and raised a brow at Ethan. "Ethan, is your family like... herbalists or something? Seriously, youve been throwing out more ointments and pills than a pharmacy." Lucas leaned forward with a grin. "Right? That stamina pill you gave me" "yeah! That one!" Louie snapped his fingers. "Didnt you say it came from some old man your uncle knows? Now youre out here giving Aiden a miracle ointment too." Ethan scratched the back of his head and laughed. "Hahaha... sometimes, you dont need to know the details." He flashed them a quick, mischievous smile. "What matters is... they work. And theyre real." The others exchanged glances, smirking. Lucas gave him a light nudge with his elbow. "Youre like a walking cheat code, bro." Evan adjusted his glasses, glancing toward Aiden before shifting his gaze back to Ethan. "Speaking of ointment... Josh might be able to play again next week." Ethans eyes widened with genuine surprise. "Thats good news." But Evan didnt smile. "But if Josh returns... he was a starter before the injury. So... what happens to his spot?" His voice was calm, but the question lingered like tension in the air. Ethan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, thoughtful. "Lucas and I became starters after Josh and Aiden got injured. So, if both of you are back next week, or even in the next few weeks..." He paused, then looked at Aiden, and then Evan. "I already have a plan. I know exactly how Im going to fit you both into the rotation." His voice was calm, steady. Confident. Aiden, who had been silently listening, finally spoke. His tone was differentmore grounded. Mature. "I dont mind sitting on the bench." The others looked at him in surprise. Aiden looked directly at Ethan, then at Lucas, his expression earnest. "Whats important to me now is getting back on the court... and winning." Then, softer, but sincere: "I know you both. I trust you." Ethan blinked, his gaze resting on Aiden a little longer than expected. He was... stunned. (He really changed after that day... maybe after watching our game against Orlando Hoops... maybe that shifted something inside him.) Ethans thoughts echoed in his head, soft with wonder. (Or maybe... its something deeper.) Aiden wasnt the same firecracker who once took every loss personally. There was humility now. Growth. Something honest in his tone that hadnt been there before. Lucas glanced over at Ethan and then to Aiden, a small, quiet smile forming on his lips. "I also dont mind being on the bench, Ethan," Lucas said, shrugging casually. "Youre probably the one who fits best in the starting five anyway." Ethans eyes widened a little, surprised again this time at Lucas. "No... Lucas," Ethan said firmly, shaking his head. "Youll be in the first five. Like I said, Ive already planned it out. Besides..." He leaned back in his chair and exhaled. "Its still a few weeks before we even need to talk about stuff like that. Lets focus on whats in front of us." Then, like a spark in the room, Louies voice cut in: "Oh! I know whats next! The Thunderhawks! That all-girls basketball team. Were gonna fight them, right?" Evan adjusted his glasses with a sigh. "Play, Louie. Play the Thunderhawks. Not fight. Were not in a boxing match." Louie scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Whats the difference? Were still going against them its still war on the court!" Ethan groaned softly and dropped his head in his hand. Lucas met his eyes and gave him the same tired look then both sighed in perfect sync. Ethan muttered under his breath: "Were not fighting them, Louie..." Then he looked around at the group. "Lets not get into that right now. Well talk more tomorrow we still have two days before the match against them." He smiled a little, then added, "Right now... we just enjoy the day. Aidens here. Thats enough." Everyone nodded quietly. For the first time in a long while, it felt like... a team again. After a few more minutes of casual chatter and laughter, the mood slowly began to shift. The clock on the hospital wall ticked forward, reminding them that visiting hours were nearly up. Ethan stood up first, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. "Well... we should get going." His voice was soft, but steady. "Hey," Aiden said, stopping them just before they reached the door. "Thanks for coming... seriously." Ethan turned and smiled. "Youre our teammate, Aiden." He lifted a hand, almost like a salute. "That doesnt stop just because of a hospital bed." Lucas nodded, flashing a peace sign. "Youll be back on the court before you know it." Evan placed a hand gently on Aidens shoulder. "Take your time healing. Well be waiting." Louie, grinning wide, leaned against the doorway. "And when youre back, dont expect us to go easy on you during practice." Aiden scoffed but smiled. "Wouldnt want it any other way." The four of them stepped out one by one, the door slowly swinging closed behind them. Aiden leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling for a moment, his thoughts buzzing. (Maybe... Just Maybe I can do it) He clenched his fist lightly. (Not just for me... but for all of us.) And for the first time since the injury... He didnt feel weak. He felt like a player again. ..... Outside the hospital The cool breeze of the late afternoon swept through the open parking lot. The van doors were unlocked, the engine still off. Evan stretched his arms with a tired groan while Louie spun a basketball on his finger, humming a tune off-key. Ethan stood a little ways off, his hands in his pockets. "You go first in the van," he said, gesturing toward the vehicle. Lucas raised an eyebrow. "And where are you going?" Ethan blinked once and sighed inwardly. (Lucas, you nosy boy...) "Something important coming up," he said vaguely. Louie perked up, grinning. "Can I go?" Ethan shook his head firmly. "Just go with Lucas and Evans van." Louie frowned dramatically like a kicked puppy. "Aww, come on, man..." Evan rolled his eyes, patting Louies back. "Let it go, Lou. Let the man have his mystery." He turned toward Ethan. "Welp, take care, Ethan." Ethan nodded. "You three too take care." The three of them nodded back, beginning to head toward the van. Ethan turned and took a few steps in the opposite direction, his face shifting into something more serious, more determined. (I still need to stop Aiden and Noahs mother from giving them that pill...) (In my past life the novel version of Turning Point their mother gave them the pill. At first, it seemed miraculous. Their speed, strength, endurance... everything skyrocketed. But then...) (Over time...) His fists clenched in his hoodie pockets. (They destroyed themselves. Mentally. Physically. Overdosed. Collapsed into comas that lasted months... maybe forever. Their brilliance faded into tragedy.) (I need to stop that plot no matter what.) "Hello? Ethan?" Lucass voice pulled him back, waving his hand near Ethans face. Ethan blinked, caught off guard. "Oh, pardon me, hahaha... I was just thinking about something. Nothing special." Lucas narrowed his eyes slightly, not quite convinced, but let it go. Evan and Louie exchanged glances, equally confused but not about to press further. Ethan smiled faintly and waved. "Gotta go. Bye!" He turned on his heel, walking away from them not just physically, but toward something larger. Toward a mission only he knew he had to complete. The others climbed into the van, watching him go in silence. Lucas, eyes narrowed, whispered to himself: "Nothing special... huh?" The van door slid shut. Ethan, meanwhile, disappeared into the city, steps growing quicker. (First, I need to find her....) ... Meanwhile... At the White Household The door clicked softly as it opened. Panny White stepped inside, heels echoing slightly against the wooden floor. The scent of warm late afternoon air drifted in behind her before the door shut again with a muted thud. In the kitchen, the dim light above the sink cast a glow over Noah as he stood silently, drinking a glass of water. He looked up as she entered, lowering the glass slowly. "Noah," Panny said gently, her voice carrying a tired warmth. "Hows your brother?" Noah set the glass down on the counter and turned toward her. "He was good. His teammates visited him today." Panny paused. There was a flicker of surprise in her expression. "Aiden... has friends?" Noah gave a slight nod, his voice neutral. "Yep. Seems like he does now." That silence that followed was strange. Pannys eyes drifted away from her son toward the dark leather handbag resting atop the side table by the entrance. She walked toward it slowly. Her fingers tightened around the straps as she opened it. Nestled carefully inside was a small container a plain, unmarked bottle. The pills. Her heart began to race. Her hand trembled slightly as she stared down at them. A memory flashed through her mind Aiden lying in that hospital bed, Noah walking with a subtle limp he tried so hard to hide, both of them with eyes once filled with fire... now dulled by pain and doubt. She shut her eyes. (I just want them to be great again... to be happy. Im their mother. If I dont do something... who will?) With a deep breath, she swallowed the lump in her throat and felt her hesitation harden into resolve. Whatever it took shed do it. For them. Panny turned slowly toward Noah. "Noah..." she said, her voice quieter now, layered with careful emotion. Noah tilted his head slightly. "Yeah?" She held the bottle in her hand but kept it behind her back. "I want to talk to you... about something that might help you and your brother." Noahs brows furrowed slightly. "Help us?" Panny nodded slowly, stepping forward. "I know what youve gone through. The pain. The pressure. The feeling that youve fallen behind... and cant catch up anymore." Noah didnt say anything. But his jaw tensed ever so slightly. Pannys gaze softened, her tone dropping just above a whisper. "But what if... there was a way? Something that could bring back everything you once had? Your strength. Your speed. Even more." There was a silence. A thick one. Heavy. Noahs eyes slowly drifted to her hands, sensing something she wasnt saying out loud. "What are you talking about, Mom?" he asked carefully. Panny didnt answer right away. Her hand gripped the bottle tightly behind her back. Her heart pounded. (Just a little longer... until I can explain it the right way...) Then Panny White took a slow step forward, her fingers still wrapped tightly around the bottle behind her back. "I heard from someone... someone trustworthy," she said gently, almost pleading, "about something that could help you. Something that could bring you back to who you used to be... who you should be." Noahs gaze sharpened. "Youre being vague, Mom." Panny hesitated. She could see itthe guarded look in his eyes. Noah wasnt the kind of person you could push easily. He had always been sharp, perceptive. Even now, after everything, he still saw through people. Still calculated. She sighed. Then, carefully, she pulled the bottle from behind her back and held it out, her hand trembling just a little. "These," she said softly. "Theyre pills. Supplements. They help you recover. Help your body move the way it used to. Some of the best players are secretly using them." Noah stared at the bottle in her hand. He didnt move. "Whats in them?" he asked calmly. "I dont know exactly," she admitted. "But I trust the person who gave them to me. He said theyve helped a lot of young athletes." Noahs brow furrowed deeply. "You dont know whats in them, but you want me to take them?" Panny took a small step forward. Her voice cracked. "Noah... I just" "Mom," he interrupted, eyes still locked on the bottle. "I get it. I know youre trying to help. And... yeah," he exhaled, "part of me wants to believe in something like that. Something that could make me faster again. Stronger. Get me back to where I was." There was a pause. His voice lowered. "You think I dont miss it? That I dont hate what Ive become?" Pannys heart ached hearing that. "But," he continued, eyes sharp, "Im not taking something just because someone whispered about it in your ear." His tone wasnt angry. It was controlled. Reasoned. But firm. "Give me time," he said. "Let me do my own research. Talk to someone. If theres really something in there that works without hurting usthen maybe. But not like this. Not blind." Panny lowered the bottle, shoulders slumping. "Noah..." He gave a small smile, but it didnt reach his eyes. "Im not saying no. Im saying Im not a fool." And with that, he turned and walked past her slow, quiet steps up the stairs toward his room. The silence that followed felt heavier than any shouting match. Panny stood there alone, gripping the bottle tightly again, torn between fear... and hope. To be continue Chapter 61 - 48: White (4) Chapter 61: Chapter 48: White (4) The taxi slowly rolled to a stop at the end of a long stone driveway. Ethan stepped out, the crunch of gravel under his sneakers echoing slightly in the quiet mountain air. He looked up. The White Familys estate stood like a monument to old moneyclean, grand, and unnervingly quiet. High pillars framed the porch. The house stretched wide, windows glinting in the soft golden hue of the late afternoon sun. The surrounding forest rustled with wind, and a crow cawed in the distance. It almost felt haunted. Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets. His mind raced. "(Fuck... what should I even say? Hey, Im here to stop your mom from drugging you? Yeah, good plan, Ethan.)" He stood at the foot of the stairs for a moment, staring at the white double doors. He could already feel the weight of it all pressing on his chest. The "plot" from his past life. The characters. The consequences. Then he exhaled and started walking. One step. Two. Three. Each step felt heavier. When he finally stood in front of the ornate wooden door, he hesitated. His hand hovered just above the brass knocker. His reflection stared back at him from the polished metal. "No turning back now," he muttered. He knocked. ... A moment passed. Then, the door creaked open. It wasnt Panny. It was Noah. The two boys stood there in silence for a second, neither speaking. Noah raised an eyebrow. "...Ethan?" Ethan blinked. "Yo." "...What are you doing here?" Noah asked, his tone neutralbut the edge was there. Slight suspicion, slight confusion. Ethan scratched his head, putting on a lazy smile. "Came to check on Aiden... and maybe talk to you too." Noahs eyes narrowed a bit. His mind worked quicklyhe knew something was off. But instead of pressing, he stepped back and opened the door wider. "...Come in." Ethan stepped into the White household, greeted by the faint scent of pine and lemon polish. Expensive, neat, quiet. Noah closed the door behind them. As they walked through the hallway, Ethans eyes darted toward a small purse resting on a side table by the stairs. The same purse Panny had earlier. And next to it... barely visible... was a corner of a bottle peeking out. The pills. Ethan felt his stomach twist. Noah noticed. "Ethan," he said suddenly. "You didnt come here just to check on Aiden, did you?" Ethan met his gaze. No smile this time. "No. I didnt." There was a silence between them. No more games. Just two people caught between the past and the future. Then, Pannys voice echoed faintly from the kitchen. "Noah? Who are you talking to?" Noah raised his voice just a little, turning his head toward the hallway. "Um... Aidens friend." A brief pause. "Aidens friend?" Ethans breath hitched slightly as he heard the soft patter of footsteps approaching. Panny White stepped into viewgraceful, composed, but with tiredness in her eyes. She held a towel in her hands, drying them calmly as she glanced between Noah and the unexpected visitor. Ethan, trying to keep his voice steady, said quickly, "Hey, wheres your sister? Lily, right?" Noah turned to him and replied, "Lilys with Aiden at the hospital. She wanted to stay with him a bit longer. Said shed take care of him like a nurse or something." Ethan let out a soft chuckle, his tension easing just a bit. "Ah... she really adores Aiden." Noah nodded faintly. "Yeah... she does." Then Panny reached them. Noah turned to her and gestured politely. "OhMom, youre here. This is Aidens friend... Ethan." Ethan straightened a bit and smiled politely. "Hello, maam." Panny offered a pleasant smile in return. "Hello, Ethan." There was a long pausejust a few secondsbut it felt like a quiet interrogation. Then she asked, "So... youre here?" Ethan swallowed. "I was here just, you know... Um..." "Here?" she repeated, tone still calm but curious. Ethans thoughts swirled like a storm. "(I have to lie. I cant say I came to stop her from giving the pill. Thats insane. How could I possibly explain knowing about it? Theyd ask how I knew. Theyd get suspicious. And if I say too much, I risk screwing everything upno second chances this time. Shit. Shit. Think, Ethan. THINK.)" He forced a small, nervous smile and tried to shift the focus. "I just thought Id drop by... check in on Aiden. We all visited him earlier, but I guess I just... wanted to say thanks. For raising a good teammate." Noah raised an eyebrow slightly, but didnt interrupt. Pannys eyes softened a bit. She smiled faintly, brushing some hair behind her ear. "Thats kind of you." But her tone was still watchfullike she didnt fully buy it. She wasnt rude. But she was smart. Noah looked at Ethan again, expression unreadable. He could tell Ethan was dancing around something. But the question was: What? Ethan, meanwhile, stood still. Calm on the outside. But his heartbeat was pounding in his ears. "(I need to find a way to talk to Noah alone,)" he thought. "(Before she gives him that damn pill.)" Panny glanced between the boys one more time, then offered a faint, polite smile. "Ill leave you two boys here to talk." she said softly, her voice calm but still carrying that usual weight of motherly observation. Ethan nodded quickly, trying not to seem too eager. Noah gave a small nod as well, watching her carefully. She turned and walked back toward the kitchen. Her steps were quiet, unhurriedlike she didnt suspect anything. But Ethan still waited until she was fully out of sight. The second she disappeared behind the hallway corner, Ethan leaned in. He lowered his voice, whispering directly into Noahs ear. "Do not take that pill." Noah blinked in confusion. "What?" Noah stood still for a second, watching Ethan with narrowed eyes. His mouth was slightly open, like he wanted to say something but didnt know what. His mind was spinning. He instinctively looked toward the kitchen, then back at Ethan. "(What the hell is going on?)" "(How did he even know about the pill? Mom didnt say anything to anyone... And I havent said a word.)" Before he could say more, Ethan quickly placed a hand over Noahs mouthnot roughly, but firm enough to make him stop talking. Ethans eyes were sharp. Focused. There was no hint of hesitation in them. He leaned even closer and whispered, voice low and serious, "Just dont take it." Noahs eyes darted around the room, and then back to Ethan. His breathing was quiet but a little uneven. There was tension in his shoulders nownot fear, but realization. Ethan pulled back slightly, just enough to whisper again. "Ill tell you everything in your room." "No one can know. Not your mom. Not anyone." Noah hesitated, unsure if he should trust himbut the look in Ethans eyes wasnt something he could ignore. There was no joke there. No mischief. Just urgency. And concern. "(Hes hiding something... but it doesnt feel like hes trying to hurt me,)" Noah thought. "(It feels like... hes trying to protect me?)" He gave a slow nod. Without a word, he turned and led Ethan down the hallway, past family photos on the wall and a quiet ticking clock. The air felt heavier now, like the walls themselves knew something wasnt right. They reached his rooma neat, simple room with posters of old basketball players and a tall shelf filled with trophies that hadnt seen dust in years. The bed was made, the curtains slightly open to let in the soft, fading afternoon light. Noah closed the door gently behind them and locked it. Then he turned around, arms crossed. "Okay," he said. "Now talk." Ethan took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "That pill... the one your mom wants you to takeits dangerous." Noahs eyes narrowed. "You dont even know what it is." Ethan stepped closer, his voice low and firm. "I do. Ive seen what it does. Not just short-term. Long-term." "It makes you fast. Strong. Yeah. But it also eats at your body. It messes with your mind. Its not some miracle. Its poison in disguise." Noah looked away for a second, his jaw tight. "(That cant be true... right? She said it would help. She just wanted us to be strong again... to be great again.)" "How do you know all that?" Noah asked quietly. Ethan paused. He looked at Noahand for a second, he almost said the truth. Almost said hed read the novel where Noah and Aiden took the pills and fell into comas. Where their mother made a choice out of desperation. Where it all went to hell. But instead, he just said: "Lets just say... Ive seen people take it before. And it never ends well." Noah blinked. His brows furrowed slightly. He didnt speak right away. He just stared at Ethan, watching himlike trying to read between his words. Then finally, softly, he asked: "And where did you see them?" Ethan didnt hesitate this time. He looked right at Noah and answered flatly: "You dont need to know." "What you should know is that you shouldnt take it." There was silence between them. Then Noah, however, was still eyeing him with narrowed suspicion. His voice came quieter this time, cautious. "But... how did you even know Mom had a pill on her?" Ethan didnt flinch. He looked Noah straight in the eyes and answered simply: "I have my ways." Noahs brow furrowed deeper. The answer was vaguetoo vague to make sense. But something in the way Ethan said it... calm, collected, like hed carried that knowledge for a long time... made it feel heavy. And so Noahs thoughts started turning again. "(He said it like its normal. Like hes used to this kinda thing...)" "(Could it be from his past? Did someone close to him go through this same thing before?)" As Noah didnt back down from the eye contact. He kept staring, but now there was something else in his gazesomething softer. Like a realization. Like he was beginning to see Ethan differently. His thoughts turned inward. "(And the way he talks about it... like it hurt him personally.)" "(Did someone close to him go through this? Is this... is this from his past?)" "(Maybe he lost someone... maybe thats why hes warning me like this.)" Noah looked down for a second, then back up. "(So, this isnt just about me... is it?)" He misunderstood. Entirely. But Ethan caught it. The shift in Noahs eyes. That quiet sympathy that started to form behind his usually guarded expression. And in his own mind, Ethan realized it too. "(The way hes looking at me...)" "(He thinks I went through something. He thinks this is personal. Did he... did he misunderstand?)" Ethan nearly smirkedjust barely. "(Well... that works for me.)" "(If thats what it takes to stop him from taking the pill... then Ill let him believe it.)" But outwardly, he kept his expression serious. Noah finally looked away and leaned back a bit on the bed, letting out a quiet breath. "...Alright." "If its that serious to you... I wont take it." Ethan exhaled, relievedbut careful not to show it too much. He nodded. "Thank you." For a second, they just sat there in silence. Not as strangers anymore. But two boys carrying different weights on their shouldersone real, one misunderstoodand somehow, finding a strange connection in that silence. To be continue Chapter 62 - 49: White (5) Chapter 62: Chapter 49: White (5) The front door of the White familys home shut softly behind Ethan. He stepped down the stone steps, the late evening air brushing against his face. The sky had turned a soft indigo, with the last light of day fading behind the trees. A few crickets had already begun to sing in the quiet woods. Ethan glanced at his phone. 6:50 PM. "(Damn... it really took that long?)" he thought. He could still feel the tension from earlier lingering on his shouldersthe conversation with Panny, the whispered warning to Noah, and the weight of carrying knowledge that no one else should have. "(So much for a normal day.)" He walked toward the road, pulling his phone out and calling a taxi. The reception up here was bad, but luckily, he had one barjust enough to get the call through. As he waited, he looked up at the sky, hands in his pockets, breathing slowly. "(I hope this is enough to stop that tragedy.)" The memory flashed in his mindNoah and Aiden lying unconscious in a hospital bed in the novel Turning Point, the side effects of that drug pushing their bodies beyond the limit until they broke. "(Even if I cant tell them everything... even if they misunderstand me... if it keeps them alive, thats all that matters.)" A pair of headlights emerged down the long, winding road. The taxi. Ethan stepped forward and raised a hand. The car slowed and pulled up beside him, and he opened the door, sliding in with a quiet exhale. "Where to?" the driver asked . Ethan gave his address, then leaned his head back against the seat. "Just home." As the car rolled down the mountain road, past the trees and old farms, Ethan stared out the window, his reflection barely visible in the glass. For now, the White brothers were safe. But he knew this wouldnt be the last time he had to step in. "(The plot is shifting... but its not over yet.)" The taxi rolled into the night, and Ethan closed his eyes for a momentfinally letting himself rest. .... Meanwhile: Lucas Graves The gym echoed with the soft squeak of sneakers against polished wood. It was latemost of the lights in the building were off, except for the section where Lucas Graves stood, drenched in sweat, eyes narrowed, focused. He held the basketball tightly, taking a breath, then stepped back into a smooth, deliberate motion A pivot, a turn, and then Fadeaway. His form was precise, arms arched in the exact rhythm of Kobe Bryants signature shot. The ball floated through the air in a clean arc... Swish. Straight through the net. Lucas wiped the sweat from his brow and muttered, "Its hard to imitate it... as expected of an NBA player." But he wasnt complaining. His tone carried something else. Admiration. Determination. Respect. On the outside near door gymwhere the overhead lights left shadows dancing on the railingsa figure leaned silently. Charlotte Graves. Short silver hair tucked behind one ear, arms crossed loosely over her chest, her silver eyes calm yet sharp like blades. The captain of the all-girls team Thunderhawks... and Lucass older sister. She watched quietly from above, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "(I cant wait for our match, brother.)" And with that silent thought, she turned and walked away, her footsteps quiet as a whisper. Lucas didnt notice her. His world, right now, was narrowed to the court, the ball, and the memory of greatness. "(Should I copy Dirk Nowitzkis one-legged fadeaway next?)" he wondered, bouncing the ball lightly, eyes focused on the hoop. He took a deep breath, tension building in his muscles. "(But I know its going to be hard. Those moves... they demand years of work. I dont have their training... their bodies. If I push too far)" He paused. "(No. Thats no excuse.)" He stared at the ball in his hands, the same way a warrior might look at a sword. "(If I have this power... Absolute Mimicry... then Ill train my body until it can carry the weight of legends.)" The gym stayed quiet, except for the rhythmic beat of the ball hitting the floor. Lucas was alone. Focused. And somewhere in the background, his destiny was quietly drawing near. .... Meanwhile, in a Hidden Room... Dimly lit by a flickering overhead bulb, the secret room reeked of must and betrayal. Dust lingered in the air, caught in thin shafts of light spilling through narrow cracks in the old stone walls. In the center stood a man wearing a sheep mask, still and unreadable. His presence was cold, almost eerie. Across from him sat a group of men and women, all dressed in dark suits. Most of them appeared to be in their late 30s and 40s and also have 50s, each seated in a circle like members of a twisted council. And at the head of this circle sat a bald old man, silent, watching. The sheep-masked man broke the silence. "Ive already distributed it to the White family." His voice was calm. Controlled. The group stirred slightly, murmurs passing between them like ripples. Then one manhis slicked-back hair greased and suit rumpledleaned forward, a smirk stretching across his face. His eyes held a familiar bitterness. "Excellent," he said, voice oily. "If something happens to their sons, theyll be too distractedtoo brokento run the company properly." He leaned back and laugheda wild, bitter cackle, dripping with resentment. "Theyll pour every cent into saving them. And when they fall..." He clenched his fist, eyes gleaming. "We take over. Their empire crumbles, and with it, their legacy. Just like they ruined mine." This manGreg Tarrow, once a rising entrepreneurhad never forgiven the White family for outcompeting him. Their superior research, cleaner supply chain, and family image had driven Tarrows own pharmaceutical startup into near extinction. Now, his smile was twisted with long-held vengeance. The sheep-masked man remained silent, unreadable. Another woman, sharp-eyed and composed, looked toward him and asked cautiously, "Are you sure theyll take the pill? What if the boy doesnt?" He answered smoothly, "The mother will ensure it. Guilt is a powerful thing. And desperation..." He paused. "...makes people blind." The old bald man finally spoke for the first time, his voice a rasp that cut through the room. "Make sure they stay blind." Silence fell again. Only the sound of the flickering light and a distant hum of electricity remained. ....... Meanwhile in the Hospital... The hospital room was quiet, lit with the soft orange glow of the setting sun filtering through half-closed blinds. Aiden lay on the bed, propped up by pillows, his left leg elevated and wrapped in clean white bandages. A small remote-controlled hospital tray sat nearby with a deck of cards and a few snacks on topLilys idea. On the chair beside the bed, Lily, his little sister, sat cross-legged, swinging her feet while munching on a lollipop. "Okay! One more round!" she said brightly, shuffling the cards with a big grin on her face. Aiden smiled, tired but warm. His eyes were a little glazed from the meds, but he was alert enough to play along. "You sure you wanna lose again?" he teased, raising a brow. Lily puffed her cheeks. "hmmm! You got lucky last time. This time, Im serious." She began dealing the cards with exaggerated focus, her tongue peeking out the side of her mouth in concentration. Aiden chuckled and leaned back carefully. "You always say that." They played quietly for a few minutes, the sound of cards sliding across plastic the only noise besides the soft hum of the machines nearby. Aiden winced slightly as he adjusted his position, but he didnt complain. Lily noticed and stopped. "Does it hurt?" she asked quietly. Aiden paused, then shook his head. "Nah... its not that bad. Ive had worse." Lily frowned, unconvinced, then looked down at her hands. "...I hate seeing you like this." she mumbled. Aiden reached out and ruffled her hair gently. "Hey, Im gonna be fine, okay? Just a few weeks, and Ill be back. Stronger than ever." Lily looked up at him, eyes bright and trusting. "...Promise?" He held out a pinky. "Promise." She hooked hers around his and grinned. For a while, the room felt warmsafe. Like nothing outside could touch them. Aiden leaned his head back again, watching his little sister laugh and tell some weird story about a classmate who tried to ride a rolling chair down a hallway like it was a racing game. And even though his leg ached, even though uncertainty still hung in the air... Aiden smiled. "(This... This is what Im fighting for.)" he thought. "(Not just the team... but for her. For moments like this.)" The sun dipped lower outside, and for just a moment, the hospital didnt feel like a cage. To be continue Chapter 63 - 50: White (6) Chapter 63: Chapter 50: White (6) Location: Ridgeview Community Hospital C Room 217 Time: 7:00 AM Date: July 5, 2010 The early morning light cast soft shadows across the hospital room. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor provided a calm background hum as Dr. Marcus Smirf, a man in his early 50s with a calm presence and kind eyes, examined Aidens foot, gently rotating the ankle with professional care. After a final check, he stood upright, adjusting his stethoscope and scribbling a few notes onto Aidens chart. "Well..." Dr. Smirf said with a smile, glancing between Aiden and his mother, Panny White. "This is... quite remarkable. Based on the swelling reduction and ligament response, it looks like your ankle is recovering exceptionally well." Panny blinked in surprise. "You mean... he wont need surgery?" Dr. Smirf nodded. "Thats right. No fractures, and the soft tissue is healing faster than expected. Frankly, its a bit of a miracle. Given this pace, youll be walking without support in two weeksmaybe even sooner, with proper rehab." Aiden sat up straighter, eyes wide with cautious hope. "Two weeks?" he echoed. "And... itll heal without problems?" Dr. Smirf gave a small chuckle and folded his arms. "If you follow instructions. Some light mobility exercises to prevent stiffness, gentle stretches, and absolutely no full-weight basketball moves for at least 10 days. But yes, barring setbacks... youll be back as good as ever." Aiden glanced down at his wrapped ankle, a flicker of realization in his eyes. "(That ointment... the one Ethan gave me... is that what did this?)" The thought pulsed in his head like a quiet revelation. Dr. Smirf returned the chart to its place at the foot of the bed. "Alright, Ill leave you two for now. Aiden, remembermotion is medicine. Flex and rotate your ankle a few times a day. Itll speed up your recovery." "Yes, Doc." Aiden replied firmly. "Thank you, Doctor," Panny added, giving him a grateful nod. Dr. Smirf smiled politely. "Youre welcome. Hes a strong kid." He turned and left the room, with a nurse trailing silently behind him. She was tall, mid-30s, her name tag reading "Nurse R. Hayes." Her gaze lingered a moment too long on Aiden as she walked past his bedside. Just as the doctor stepped out, Aiden muttered, more to himself than anyone else: "I told you... that ointment worked. The one Ethan gave me." The nurses ears perked up. "(Ointment?)" she thought, slowing her pace briefly without turning around. Her expression hardenedcold and calculating. She glanced subtly at the door before following Dr. Smirf down the hall. What she didnt show was the earpiece hidden beneath her bun. This nurse wasnt just any hospital staff. She was a plant, placed by the organization responsible for distributing the illegal "enhancement pills"the same one that had approached Panny White under the guise of offering hope for her sons. And now... there was a new variable. An unknown ointment. One that healed faster than their product. One that could jeopardize the entire operation. She walked calmlybut her mind was racing. "(We need to know what that substance is. Who gave it. And how they got it.)" And behind her polite smile... A silent war had just begun. ........ Back in the Hospital Room C Ridgeview Community Hospital "So... I dont need that pill you wanted to give me, right?" His tone wasnt harshbut it was firm. Pannys lips parted slowly. She hesitated. "But that pill... it wouldve helped you." Her voice was soft, almost fragile. "It could make you better at basketball. Isnt that what you want?" Aiden looked at her, disbelief flickering in his eyes. "We dont even know if its legit, Mom." He frowned. "You said some guy just gave it to you. Thats already shady as hell." Pannys hands gripped the edges of her purse tightly, her knuckles turning white. "Didnt I already tell you?" she said, voice rising just slightly. "I saw it work. With my own eyes. That boy he gave it tohe changed overnight. He went from clumsy to fast, strong... precise. It was like magic." Aiden narrowed his eyes. "And that ointment Ethan gave me? Isnt that just as magical?" Panny looked at him with a conflicted expression. "Thats different. You trust that boy too easily." Aiden leaned forward a little, despite the tug of pain in his ankle. "Yeah. But it worked. Look at me, Mom." He gestured to his foot. "Look at how fast Im healing. The doctor said it himselfits a miracle. And Ethan didnt ask for anything in return. He didnt try to push anything weird on me. Thats why I trust him." Panny exhaled, her shoulders slumping. She looked away, toward the window, her voice faltering slightly. "I just... I just want you to be happy." Her hands trembled slightly in her lap. "You and Noah. I want you both to succeed. To have something in your lives that makes you feel... special." A beat. "And your father..." Her voice trailed off. Aidens eyes darkened. His jaw clenched. "So in the end..." he said quietly, but with an edge, "its really about Dad, isnt it?" Panny shook her head quickly. "No. No, its not like that." She looked at him now, fully. Her eyes glistened with emotion. "Its for the sake of both of you. Im scared. Im scared youll get hurt. That youll give everything and end up with nothing. This world doesnt play fair, Aiden." Aidens hand curled into a fist over the blanket, his knuckles tight. "I know..." he muttered. "But I still wont give up." His voice cracked slightly, but he didnt waver. "Even if Im trash at basketball..." he paused, then looked up at her with tired, honest eyes. "At least I play what I love. What I want." There was a small silence between them. Then he added, voice lower: "Even if Dad told me Im talentless... Im still doing my own thing." Pannys lips quivered. That one hit deep. She leaned forward without thinking, tears finally escaping down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Thats why... Thats why Mommy is here, to give you" "Mom..." Aiden said softly, his voice slightly muffled in her shoulder. He didnt push her away. But he didnt let her finish, either. Because they both knew what she was going to say: "to give you a chance." Maybe with the pill. Maybe with anything she could offer. But Aiden wasnt asking for this. He was asking to be seen. To be trusted. To be loved for who he wasnot for what he could become with enhancement. Panny held her son tighter, her tears soaking into his hospital gown. And for a brief moment... The pressure, the weight, the expectationsfaded into something gentler. ....... Location: Unknown Facility C Sub-Level 3 Time: 7:50 AM Date: July 5, 2010 The room was dimly litonly a single hanging bulb swayed lightly above a polished mahogany table. Around it sat a small group of people, each cloaked in secrecy. Shadows danced along the walls as tension filled the air like thick smoke. Greg Tarrow, sleeves rolled up, veins popping from his forearm, slammed his fist down on the desk. "What?!" he barked, phone still pressed to his ear. The report had just come in. "Youre telling me..." he growled, grinding his teeth, "some goddamn ointment is jeopardizing everything we worked for?" The man in the sheep mask stood calmly beside him, arms folded, his head tilted ever so slightly as if this was all... amusing. "Now, now, Greg," he said, voice smooth, almost condescending. "Lets not destroy the furniture." Gregs face turned red with rage. "Ive poured millions into this project! Your connections, your freak show of a networkmy drug was supposed to be their only option!" The sheep-masked figure let out a faint chuckle. Then, slowly and deliberately, he reached up and removed the mask. Beneath it was the face of a man in his early 40sclean-shaven, calculating eyes, and the kind of smile that never reached his pupils. This was no common conspirator. This was someone powerful. Dangerous. "Relax," he said, still grinning. "Your drug is the future. Mass-market addiction in the name of performance enhancementa golden product. Well make billions." Greg breathed out through his nose, his jaw unclenching. The reassurance worked. Slowly, a smirk began to form on his lips. "Damn right," Greg muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Theyll beg for it once they see what it can do. That little pillll be in every high school gym bag from here to Tokyo." The masked mannow replacing the sheep mask over his faceturned back toward the others in the room. "Still," he said, tone colder now, "we need to know who this Ethan is. The one who gave the boy that ointment." His voice echoed slightly in the silence that followed. "If he can produce something that effective*" he paused, then added, *"and hes not one of ours... he becomes a threat." Gregs eyes lit with new intensity. "I want to know everything about that kid." He jabbed a finger in the air, as if pointing right at Ethans name. "Where he lives. Who his parents are. What he eats for breakfast. If he sneezes, I want to know about it." The sheep-masked man nodded slowly. "Dont worry. Hes already on our radar." He turned to one of the others sitting silently at the tablean older woman with gray-streaked hair and a black notebook in front of her. "Tail the boy discreetly." The woman simply nodded, flipping open her notebook and writing a single name. ETHAN. .... Location: Lucas Gym Time: 7:50 AM Date: July 5, 2010 C Sunday The hardwood squeaked faintly under shoes as the boys gathered in a loose semicircle around Ethan Albarado, who stood at the center of the gym with a clipboard in hand. The morning sun cast long lines of light through the high windows of the private gymcourtesy of Lucass mother, the former pro baller Romanov Graves. Sweat already glistened on their brows. Theyd been running drills for almost an hour. Lucas Graves, wiping his forehead with his forearm, stood next to Louie , a wiry kid with fast hands. Evan, Ryan, Josh, Jeremy, Kai, and Coonie filled in the circle. The energy was still high, though a few of them were catching their breath. Ethan cleared his throat and raised his voice a bit. "Alright, now for Phase 3: Situational Response & Rotations." Coonie, stretching his arms lazily, blinked. "Waitwhats that?" A smirk tugged at Ethans lips. "It means we stop thinking like its practice and start reacting like its game-time." He flipped the page on the clipboard. "Game situations. Fast decisions. Defensive instincts. No do-overs." He stepped forward, gesturing to the court. ..... ???? Drill 1: 4-Second Closeout War Ethan explained, walking them through the setup: "Youll start from the help-side. Coachaka mewill be holding the ball at the wing." "On the whistle, you close out on me. Youve got 4 seconds max." "If youre not in front of me by then?" He raised an eyebrow. "Automatic bucket." Lucas nodded, focused. Jeremy cracked his neck. Josh grinned. "Bet. Ill make it in three." "Hands up, feet under you, no lunging," Ethan reminded them. "Balance and speed. Everyone gets six reps. Lets go." ..... ???? Drill 2: Rotational Command Drill After the closeouts, they reset into defense-only groups. Ethan raised a finger. "Now for the tougher oneRotational Command." "Five defenders on the court. No ball. Just formation." "Ill randomly point and yell DRIVE!the player I point at attacks. The rest of you? React, rotate, help. All without me calling your names." Louie blinked. "Wait, no ball at all?" "Nope. Its about habit, instinct, communication." Ethan said. "If you cant call for help when theres no ball, youll freeze when there is." Kai, nodding slowly, whispered to Jeremy. "Damn. This is different. But I like it." Ethan smiled slightly, catching the tone shift. He saw it in their posturethey were buying in. "Three reps each group. Full effort. Communicate. Trust each other. This isnt solo ballits survival ball." Lucas rolled his shoulders, eyes narrowing. "Lets run it." And with that, the gym filled with movement againshoes squeaking, calls bouncing off the walls, players shouting "Help!" and "Switch!" as the drills came alive with the same energy theyd face on real hardwood, under real lights. .. Ethan turned toward Josh, who was crouched low, ready to explode into the next defensive drill. His expression was focused, almost too serious. Thats when Ethan raised a hand. "Josh," he called out, stepping forward, his tone shifting just slightlyless coach, more concerned friend. Josh looked up, a bit surprised. "Yeah?" Ethans gaze dropped briefly to Joshs right foot, then back up. "Be careful. Your ankles still healing, you know that." His voice wasnt scoldingjust steady, like a quiet warning with weight behind it. Josh blinked, caught off guard by the reminder. He opened his mouth like he was about to arguethen thought better of it. He flexed his foot lightly, feeling the slight tug where the strain had once flared up last week. "Im good," Josh muttered. "But yeah... I got you." Ethan gave a small nod, but his eyes stayed on Josh for a moment longer. "Just dont push it too early. You want to be there when it really counts, not sidelined again." Josh nodded slower this time, the reality sinking in. He turned back into position, less reckless nowstill hungry, but smarter. Nearby, Lucas watched the exchange without saying a word. He could tell Ethan wasnt just running drillshe was leading. Like someone who knew this wasnt just practice. This was the start of something. And Ethan was making sure none of them got left behind. To be continue Chapter 64 - 51: White (7) Chapter 64: Chapter 51: White (7) Time: 10:00 AM Location: Unknown Underground Facility The walls were sterile white, the kind that made everything feel too clean... too clinical. A single fluorescent light buzzed faintly overhead. Panny White stood across from the masked figure whod only been known to her as "Sheep." She held the small black case tightly in her hands. Inside itthose pills. The ones shed once thought would make everything better. But now? "Ive decided not to give these to my two sons," Panny said, her voice calm but firm. Her knuckles whitened around the case. The man in the sheep mask tilted his head, like a puppet hung too loosely from its strings. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice smoothtoo smooth, like a salesman hiding a blade under every word. Panny nodded, more slowly this time. "Im sure." Sheep didnt move for a moment. Then he let out a low chucklecontrolled, polite, and utterly chilling. "Thats too bad..." He stepped closer. Not threatening, not fastjust deliberate. "You were so enthusiastic before. You said youd do anything for your boys." Panny swallowed hard. She felt it in her throat like ice. "I do want whats best for them," she said, voice wavering now. "But not like this. Not something I cant trust. Not if its going to cost them more than it gives." Sheeps head tilted again. His gloved fingers tapped together. Then, without missing a beat, he said: "Let me know if you change your mind." "Doors like these dont stay open forever, Madam White." Panny gave a small nod and turned toward the door. Every step felt heavier than the last. As her hand touched the knob, she heard his final words behind her: "Okay, Madam White..." Then silence. But just before she opened the door, something inside her told her to brace for more. Behind her, Sheep remained perfectly still. But inside his head, a different kind of thought stirred: "(You may leave... but you cant escape our grasp forever. Sooner or lateryoull come back. They always do.)" He slowly reached up and removed his mask, revealing the calm, cold smirk of a man who never dealt in lossesonly delays. ..... The room was dimly lit, walls coated in shadows, humming softly with the low buzz of outdated fluorescent bulbs. A single desk lamp flickered in the corner, casting a faint light on a man hunched forward, trembling in frustration. Greg Tarrow, once a proud businessman, now sat in that darkness like a shell of who he used to be. His hands clenched the armrests of his chair, knuckles pale. Sweat clung to his forehead. His eyesbloodshot, restlessburned with hatred. A man in a black suit approached and whispered something into his ear. Gregs expression changed instantly. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice dangerously low. The man hesitated. "Panny White... she refused. Shes not giving the pill to her sons." Silence. ThenSLAM. Gregs fist collided with the wooden table. A glass of whiskey tipped and spilled, shards of broken glass bouncing across the floor. "FUCK!" he roared, standing up. His breath came out in harsh, uneven rasps. "How dare that bitch ruin this?! I was this close! This close!" He stared at the wall in front of him, but he wasnt seeing it. His mind was elsewhereback in the past, back to that moment his entire world fell apart. ... FLASHBACK C Five Years Ago Gregs company had been thriving. His supplements were known in the local sports worldaffordable, reliable, effective. He was building something for his family. His wife, Emma, had even designed the companys logo. Their daughter, Lemi, just seven at the time, used to draw crayon versions of his products and call them "Daddys Power Beans." Then... the White family launched their line. Superior. Cheaper. Backed by bigger names. Overnight, Gregs market crumbled. Clients dropped him. Sponsorships vanished. The company folded in six months. Medical bills piled up. Lily got sick. There wasnt enough left for her treatment. She died. Emma never recovered. Two months later, Greg found her in the bathroomlifeless. ..... PRESENT Gregs voice cracked as he whispered to himself. "You took everything from me, White family... Everything." His body trembled. But not from grieffrom rage. "This isnt how it ends," he growled. "That pill was my key. And now she thinks she can just walk away?" His fingernails dug into his palm. Blood trickled down, unnoticed. "I will make her regret it. If they wont take the pill... Ill make sure they wish they had." He turned to the man in black. "Bring those boys.... Cause we proceed to our plan..." "Tomorrow" The man nodded. Gregs lips curled into a dark, twisted smile. "If I cant destroy them through the front door... Ill burn their fucking house from the inside." ..... Location: Quiet Suburban Roadway C Near Ridgeview Park Time: 11:10 AM Date: July 5, 2010 The sun filtered through the light summer clouds, casting gentle shadows on the pavement. Birds chirped softly in the background. On an otherwise quiet street, two figures walked side by sideEthan Albarado and Noah White. Noah had his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. Ethan walked beside him, spinning a basketball with one hand, calm and casual. After a moment, Noah broke the silence. "The ointment you gave Aiden... it worked." Ethan blinked. "You used it too?" Noah nodded. "Yeah. At first, I thought you scammed him." He gave Ethan a side glance. "But then I saw Aidens eyes... that fire in them. The way he believed in you... I couldnt ignore it." Ethan grinned. "Whoa, so I passed the trust test?" "Youre lucky," Noah said with a faint smile. "To have someone believe in you that much... thats rare." Ethan shrugged, jokingly. "Guess thats just my charm as a teammate." They both chuckled softly. The wind picked up slightly, ruffling their shirts. "When I used it," Noah continued, his tone quieter now, "my ankle didnt hurt as much. Even when I jumped too much or did sprints multiple times. If I keep using it for a couple more weeks... I think itll fully heal. Like how it was before everything." Ethans expression shifted; his usual smirk replaced with something more earnest. "Of course it will. Its proven and tested... and it works." Noah let out a low chuckle, then tilted his head upward, eyes on the open sky. "Ill play again," he said. Ethan looked over. "Huh?" "Basketball," Noah clarified, still gazing at the sky. "Ill start again. This time, in high school." Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Didnt you say you were in your first year already?" Noah nodded. "I am. But... I havent played since the injury. I was scared. Lost. Didnt think Id ever return to the court again. But now... thanks to you" he turned to face Ethan, "because of you, I can finally start over." Ethan blinked, caught off guard for a second. Noah extended his fist toward Ethan, a small, grateful smile on his face. "Lets both do our best, Ethan. On our own paths... but always chasing the same basket." Ethan smirked, bumping his fist against Noahs. "Yeah." Meanwhile Lucas Graves, holding a bag of snacks in one hand and a cold bottle of water in the other. Right behind him were Louie with two hot dogs and Evan munching on a bag of chips. Lucas narrowed his eyes, spotting the two familiar figures across the road. "Oi!" he called out, his tone half-annoyed, half-playful. "Were here too, you know." Ethan looked back, grinning. "Took you long enough. Thought you guys got lost fighting over sauces or something." Louie raised a plastic cup with pride. "Worth it. Found the last mango iced tea. Victory tastes sweet." Evan added, "And Lucas bullied his way to the front of the line." Lucas scoffed. "Tactical positioning. Not bullying. Theres a difference." He tossed a snack bag at Ethan. "Here. Got your usual." Ethan caught it mid-air. "Youre a real one." Noah chuckled, watching them with a warm expression. Though hed only just recently become a part of this crew, something about the way they bickered and joked felt... natural. Real. Like family. .... Location: BAC U.S. Division C Executive Suite, Imperial Crest, Virginia Time: 11:45 AM, July 5, 2010 The view from the executive floor of the BAC U.S. training complex stretched far over the lush valleys of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The facility, designed like a high-end research center crossed with a luxury hotel, hummed with controlled energyathletes, scouts, and data scientists worked in synchrony below. Inside a glass-encased boardroom at the top of the complex, Romanov Graves, the iron-willed executive director of BACs U.S. branch, stood in a sharp, black suit, her silver nameplate catching the soft light. Romanovs office was located in Imperial Crest, the exclusive, gated community housing only the elite: world-class coaches, pro athletes, and investors tied to the BAC empire. No press. No outsiders. Just pure ambition and control. A soft knock at the frosted glass door. Mira Lang, her executive coordinator, entered with a tablet in hand and a slight tremble in her tone. "Madam Graves... theres a situation." Romanov didnt look up from her schedule. "Which department?" "Training floor... Bryce Liang," Mira said, her voice taut. "He collapsed in Recovery Wing B during cooldown. Hes stable, but... he started seizing. We had to call emergency medics." That got Romanovs attention. Her eyes flicked upward, ice-blue and piercing. "What triggered it?" Mira hesitated. Then handed the tablet over. "Better if you see it yourself." Romanov pressed play. The screen showed Bryce Liang, one of their top Southeast recruits, restrained by two staff members, convulsing violently. His voiceragged and crackedwas caught by one of the medics body cams: "I NEED that pill! I NEED IT! The one... the one they gave me! The Sheep! He said itd make me stronger!" He thrashed again, eyes rolling. "Faster... I was so closeI saw itI was gonna be the best! He promised!" Romanov paused the video. Her voice was razor-sharp. "Sheep?" Mira nodded. "Its not the first time weve heard that... a few minor league players from the third division have said similar things. They mentioned a pill, and something about Sheep or the Masked One. But we thought it was hallucination... until now." Romanovs jaw tightened. "Find out who gave him that pill. Discreetly. Pull all enhancement reports from our intake clinics over the last 90 days. I want biometric logs, visitor entries, trainer interviews. No leaks. Not one goddamn byte." "And the player?" Mira asked. Romanovs voice was colder now. "Sedate him. Transfer him to Facility C under a medical hold. Label it as dehydration and stress-related collapse for the press. Internally... code it as a Class Red Exposure." Miras eyes widened. Class Red was BACs internal tag for unverified biotech or drug contamination. Mira nodded quickly. "Understood, Madam." As Alicia left the office, Romanov turned back toward the city, her brow furrowed. This wasnt just about basketball anymore. Someone was tampering with the world she helped build. Romanov Graves, CEO of BAC and one of the most powerful figures in Asian basketball, whispered to herself "This isnt just drugs. This is infiltration." Meanwhile somewhere out there... someone named Ethan was handing out a healing product more powerful than anything BAC had. ...... The room was dimly lit. The flickering overhead lights gave off a cold, metallic hum. Walls lined with monitors showed grainy surveillance feeds, encrypted files, and biometric data. A faint smell of antiseptic and metal lingered in the air. A dim, cold room with walls padded in thick soundproof insulation. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a pale glow over a polished steel table. Cameras in the corners blinked silentlyrecording everything. In the center of the room stood Akni Baduh, a sharp-eyed, imposing 50-year-old man of Arabic descent. His tailored suit was spotless, but sweat lined his brow. Across from him, seated in a high-backed leather chair, was the man known only as The Sheephis face concealed once more behind the eerie white sheep mask, now tilted slightly in amusement. The silence was suffocating. Then, the Sheep spokehis tone calm, yet thick with menace. "So... you gave them the drug?" Akni gave a short nod, licking his lips nervously. "Yes... it was months ago. Just a small batch for testinglow-profile players. I didnt think" "And it was BAC," the Sheep interrupted, his tone dropping to a dangerous low. "Thats a high-profile corporation, Baduh. Did you forget our entire operation hinges on discretion?" Akni shifted. His eyes darted around the room like a trapped animal. "I thought it would help! Theyre global, they have reach. The effects were working at first! But... the seizures werent my faultsomething mustve interacted wrong, I" SLAM! Without warning, the Sheep grabbed Akni by the back of the head and smashed his face into the concrete floor. A crack echoed in the roompart concrete, part bone. Akni groaned, blood running from his nose. Before he could react, the Sheep pulled a sharp ceremonial knife from beneath his coat. The blade shimmered in the low light. The Sheep crouched beside him, pressing the blade to Aknis cheek with deliberate slowness. "Youre a very funny person, Akni." he whispered. "Pretending to be me. Handing out our secrets. Staining my name in the process. Do you know what happens when a sheep becomes a liability?" Akni coughed, voice trembling. "P-please... I swear, I can fix it. Ill clean everything up. Nothing will link back to us. The media doesnt know. Romanov is still guessing. I just" Then the Sheep leaned in closer. "You better be. You better erase every trace, silence every witness, and restore balance. Because if you dont..." He leaned in closer, the mask inches from Aknis face. "When a sheep becomes a liability, it turns into a black sheep. And black sheep... eat their own." He stood, leaving Akni gasping, humiliated, and bleeding on the floor. "You have three days." Then the Sheep disappeared into the darkness of the room, leaving Akni alone... and utterly terrified. To be continue Chapter 65 - 52: White (8) Chapter 65: Chapter 52: White (8) Time: 6 pm, July 5, 2010 Greg Tarrow, once a proud and prosperous businessman, now stood in the dimly lit gym, his eyes narrowed in contempt. He was a man consumed by vengeance, his mind rotted by the years of financial and personal ruin caused by the White family. Gregs heart pounded with a rage that could no longer be contained, and it was all aimed at John White. As he stood by the side of the court, he muttered under his breath: "(John White... I will make you pay for everything youve taken from us. Everything.)" The pain of his losses still gnawed at him. The collapse of his company. The death of his daughter, and the subsequent suicide of his wife. All of it, he blamed on the White family. Their rise to the top, their superior product, their ability to outcompete him at every turn... it was too much. Greg could never forgive them for stripping away everything he held dear. Then his thoughts were interrupted as he observed the five teenagers on the courtaround 15 years old, sharp-eyed, and athletic. They were scrimmaging in an almost clinical, methodical manner, executing moves with an unsettling precision for their age. Gregs eyes studied them intently, calculating their potential. "Are you ready for tomorrow?" Greg asked, his voice hard as steel. The five teens, all dressed in mismatched athletic gear and looking more like street ballers than professional prospects, paused for a moment, then nodded in unison. "Yes, sir." Their voices were a chorus of youthful determination, but there was a faint edge to their words, as if they already understood the gravity of what was to come. Gregs gaze swept across them, eyes filled with a kind of cold pride. These kids werent just street players; they were the tools he had carefully chosen and molded. Tools to carry out his vision of revenge. He watched as they resumed their play, their speed and coordination sharper than ever, clearly influenced by his direction. "Good. Tomorrow, we will show them all that my invention is superior," Greg said, more to himself than anyone else. "Sir, yes sir" Then he paused, his gaze hardening as he thought of John White again. That name, that legacy. It was his goal to bring it crashing down. His inventionthe enhancement pillwas supposed to change the game. But it had come with side effects. Side effects Greg didnt care about anymore. The power it offered was too great. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of pills. The shiny, white tablets gleamed under the dim light. His fingers tightened around the vial as he stared at the pills, the invention he had worked so hard on. "(These kids... theyll be my proof)" he thought. "(The world will see what my pills can do. And it wont matter what happens to them after.)" As the teenagers ran back to the court, feeling the rush of energy already beginning to surge through them, Greg stood back, watching them play with an intensity he had never seen in them before. But as he looked on, a flicker of doubt crept into his mind. The side effects, the instability of the pill... could he control this? Could he control them? He quickly shook the thought away. "It doesnt matter," he muttered. "This is the beginning. Tomorrow, we take the first step." ...... Date: July 6, 2010 C Monday Time: 12:00 PM Location: Lucas Graves Gym Match Scheduled: Thunderhawks vs. Vorpal Basket @ 1:00 PM (Oak Academy Gym) The sun filtered through the gym windows, casting golden streaks across the polished floor. Tension and excitement buzzed in the air like static. The Vorpal Basket team was gatheredfinal stretches, light shootarounds, and scattered conversations echoing under the high ceiling. Lucas Graves (#10) stood tall, cool as ever. Evan Cooper (#9) dribbled calmly. Ryan Taylor (#11) was flexing his arms in front of the mirror. Josh Turner (#8) was adjusting his wristband. Brandon Young (#15) stood quietly near the baseline. Louie, Coonie (#6), Kai (#31), and Jeremy (#42) chatted around the bench. Ethan Albarado, standing near the center circle, looked at his team with a subtle smile. As Ethan stood in front of his team, his gaze scanning each of his teammates. From seasoned rookies to fired-up bench players, they all looked ready. "1 PM is the schedule of our game, so good luck to all of us," he said calmly. Cheers and whoops erupted as everyone relaxed a bit. Excitement was thick in the air. "Heheh. Finally, the Thunderhawks will see how awesome I really am. Cant wait for those cute girls to witness the Taylor charm." Ryan Taylor said, puffing his chest out slightly. He wasnt just excited about the gamehis mind drifted to the stands. To the Thunderhawks. To their sharp uniforms and confident smirks. He imagined hitting a fadeaway jumper, then locking eyes with one of them. "Eheheh..." Ryan chuckled under his breath, lost in a daydream of slam dunks and phone numbers. "Idiot," Coonie Smith muttered without even looking at him. Lucas Graves cracked a small smile and looked over at Ethan. "Lets do this." Ethan grinned and bumped fists with him. "Yeah." But before he could dive into warmups or go over the strategy again, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Frowning, Ethan reached for it and answered. "Hello?" The voice on the other end was barely recognizablehoarse, ragged, panicked. "E-Ethan... help... they... they took... my... mother and Aiden..." It was Noah. Ethans grip on the phone tightened. "Noah?! Slow down. Slow downwhat happened?" "M-meet me... same spot... please..." The call cut out. "Noah!!" Heads turned. The team fell silent as Ethan lowered the phone, his face pale and confused. Evan stepped forward, concerned. "Whats going on?" Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Was that Noah? Is something wrong?" Ethans mind raced. (His mother... Aiden... kidnapped?) He clenched his jaw, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders. They had a match in less than an hour. A major match. But... Noah needed him. Aiden might be in danger. "Whats wrong?" Lucas asked again, more urgently this time. "Are you constipated?" Ryan said with a smirk. "Shut up, Ryan," Coonie snapped. Ethan looked at the team, heart pounding. The gym felt suffocating now, too bright, too loud. "I... It seems like Noah needs our help." "What?" Evan asked, taken aback. "What happened?" Lucas demanded, stepping closer. Kai and Jeremy exchanged a lookone that said This isnt good. Brandon Young said with trouble look "Wait, what does that mean for the match?" Louie glanced between everyone and whispered, Yeah... the games in less than an hour..." Everyone looked to Ethan. Then Lucas stood up, his face stern, voice sharp. "Whats more important to all of you?! Basketball... or brothers?" His question pierced the air. The kind that doesnt expect a quick answer. Ethans fists trembled by his sides. He stared down at his hands, barely breathing. Sweat trickled from his templenot from the game, but from the decision weighing down on his shoulders like a mountain. Noah and Aiden... they were in danger. This gamethe biggest match against the Thunderhawkswas their chance to cement themselves. To prove the name Vorpal Basket. But friends... that was something else. "(Now I know what I would do)" Ethan thought, his heart pounding. He lifted his head slowly and looked around the room. All eyes were on him. Ethan stepped forward. "Everyone... continue the match without me." A stunned silence. Lucas blinked. "What?" Coonie stood up abruptly. "Are you kidding me, Ethan?! Without you, we dont know what to do!" Lucas took one step closer. "Im going with you." Ethans eyes widened. "Lucas..." Louie chimed in without hesitation. "Me too. I follow you, Captainwherever you go." Coonie threw his arms up. "What thewhat is happening right now?! Are we all bailing?! Were about to play the Thunderhawks, the most stacked team weve ever faced!" Brandon, standing by his locker, finally spoke. "Hes not wrong... without you, Ethanand Lucas? We cant win this game. You both are our anchors." Ethan turned back to them, resolute. "No. You can win. I believe in all of you. Ive seen the effort, the growth. Im confident now... youre ready." He looked at Lucas, one last time. "Youre sure youre coming with me? This is the Thunderhawks, Lucas." Lucas smirked, but his tone was dead serious. "This... is more important than any Thunderhawk." Then, turning to Louie "And you too?" Louie nodded firmly. "I meant what I said. If youre jumping, Im jumping with you." Ethan exhaled. The pressure in his chest lightenedbut then turned again, as Evan stood up. "Im going too." Ethan blinked fast. "What? Evan... without you commanding the court, the gamethis teamcould fall apart." Evan smiled faintly. "Im the only one who has a van. And more importantly... you need someone who can handle pressure if anything happens. Youre not going without me." Ethan was silent for a moment, his throat tight. Josh Turner stepped forward. "Dont worry about us, Ethan. Captain Evans rightyou need him. And we dont even know what might happen out there." Ethan, standing before them, bowed his head deeply. "Thank you guys. We owe you oneseriously." Ryan, stretching one leg lazily on the bench, smirked. "Guess its finally time the girls find out who the real captain is, huh?" he joked, eyebrows wiggling. Kai burst out laughing. "Ahaha! More like they already know youre mid, bro!" Ryan shot him a playful glare. "Hey! Thats not even close to true!" Jeremy, adjusting his headband, snorted. "Hahaha, yeah, sure it isnt!" The tension melted instantly into laughter. It wasnt just a team anymoreit was a bond. A real one. Ethan looked around at them, heart swelling with pride. "Lets go." Lucas, arms crossed and eyes serious, nodded. "No holding back." Evan, adjusting his bag over one shoulder, added with a smirk, "Come on. My vans parked around the back." Louie gave a quiet fist bump to Josh before following. One by one, the team gathered their bags, their shoes squeaking faintly as they jogged toward the lot. The old white van with tinted windows waitedan unofficial battle chariot. As the others climbed in, Josh stood behind a moment longer, gazing at them. "Be safe, everyone," he whispered to himself. He clutched his ankle slightlythe memory of pain still freshbut in his eyes, there was nothing but hope. The doors slammed shut. The engine rumbled. The van pulled away. The underdogs were on the move. No more sidelines. No more doubts. This timethey would fight. ..... Meanwhile The Graves house sat quietly on the edge of town, but Charlotte Graves was anything but calm. She stood by her window, watching with narrowed eyes as a familiar van pulled away from the curb. Her gaze immediately landed on the back of a head she knew all too well. "Lucas...?" she whispered under her breath. Charlotte, the 15-year-old captain of the Thunderhawks, wasnt one to snoopbut something about the movement of that van and the hush around it set off alarm bells in her instincts. She watched the vehicle pull out slowly. Inside, she caught a glimpse of Noah, Ethan, Louie, and Evan. Charlottes brows furrowed. "Thats weird... theres only four of them? Not even the full Vorpal team..." She paced once, then looked out the window again. The van took a left turnnot the direction of Oak Hill Academy. Her stomach tensed. "Thats not the route to the match... where the hell are they going?" She turned from the window, her mind racing. "Something fishy is going on." She grabbed her hoodie off the chair and made her way to the garage. Her moms motorbike sat in the corner, covered with a dusty brown tarp. She hesitated only a moment before yanking it off. Charlotte bit her lip. "(Sorry, mom... but Ive got to know what my brothers caught up in.)" She swung a leg over the bike and strapped on the helmet. With a turn of the key and a low growl of the engine, the motorbike rumbled to life. VROOOM. Peeling out of the garage, she gunned it onto the road, eyes locked in the direction the van had disappeared. Her heart poundednot just from the speed but from the uncertainty ahead. Charlotte thought: "(If this has anything to do with that Ethan....I need to find out. Before its too late.)" And with that, Charlotte Graves, the fierce captain of Thunderhawks and protective older sister, sped into the unknownchasing secrets, lies, and the beginning of something far bigger than just a basketball match. To be continue Chapter 66 - 53: White (9) Chapter 66: Chapter 53: White (9) Charlotte had been trailing the van for what felt like an eternity, the sound of her bikes motor humming as she maintained a careful distance. She thought to herself, "(I need to tell my teammate that I cant go, that something came up... but before that, I need to follow them for now.)" Her thoughts were racing as the van took a sharp turn, slowly descending into a quiet suburban road near Ridgeview Park. Charlottes curiosity piqued, and she immediately stopped her bike, making sure not to make a sound as she surveyed her surroundings. She had reached a point where she could finally make the call. She pulled out her phone, dialing Isabella "Izzy" Morenos number. The phone rang once, twice, and then a familiar voice answered. Isabella: "Charlotte?" Charlotte hesitated for a moment, her hand gripping the phone tightly. The weight of the situation was starting to settle in. She couldnt ignore it any longer. "Um... I cant go to our match today." she said, her voice low, almost apologetic. There was a pause on the other end. Isabellas voice then cracked with concern. "What? Whats going on?" Charlotte took a deep breath. She didnt want to worry her teammate, but she couldnt leave things unsaid. "Something came up." There was another pause, but this time, Isabella didnt press further. Charlotte could almost feel the silent understanding between them, even though Isabella was still unsure of the full picture. Isabella let out a soft sigh. "Okay. Whatever it is, be careful." Charlotte felt a lump form in her throat. The support in Isabellas voice meant more than she could express in that moment. "Thank you... take care of the team while Im gone." Isabella didnt respond with anything more than a soft hum, and Charlotte hung up. As the phone slipped back into her pocket, she glanced down the quiet road again. The van had stopped near a park. This was it. ..... Meanwhile, Ethan, Lucas, Louie, and Evan stood, watching Noah with tense expressions. Noah looked at them, his eyes dark with urgency as he said, "This is the location..." Louie, ever the cautious one, was the first to react, his voice tight with concern. "We should call the po" Noah interrupted him sharply, his voice low and dangerous. "No! No... That fucker... told me he has eyes on everywhere, so hell know if we call the police." Evan clicked his tongue in frustration, his impatience clear in the way he shifted his weight. "Tsk..." Lucas turned his gaze toward Ethan, his brow furrowed with uncertainty. "What should we do, Ethan?" Ethan stood still for a moment, his eyes closing as his thoughts raced. "(Shit... to think it became like this... Its my fault. I changed the plot that led to this...)" His mind flashed back to the decisions that had led them here. This wasnt supposed to happen, not like this. After a long pause, Ethan opened his eyes, his expression hardening with determination. "For now, saving them is important. We need to go now, but we need to carefully plan it." The others nodded, a quiet understanding passing between them. They knew this wasnt going to be easy. It would require every bit of their focus. Ethan exhaled, his voice steady now. "Lets go." Then Noahs thoughts raced as he followed the group, his resolve hardening with every step. "(Wait for me, Mom... Aiden...)" His mind lingered on the faces of the people he cared about, the ones who had unknowingly been dragged into this mess. He couldnt let anything happen to them. Not now. As the group moved forward, Charlotte, still keeping her distance, watched the van drive away from the quiet suburban road. Her heart pounded as she quickly revved the motor of her bike, determined not to lose sight of the van. She had been trailing them for a while now, and the moment the van began to move again, she sped up to keep up. Charlottes thoughts raced. "(Where are you going, brother?)" She couldnt shake the feeling that something was off, and every instinct told her that she needed to know what was happeningno matter the cost. Her eyes stayed locked on the van as she navigated the winding roads, feeling the tension rise in her chest. ..... After twenty tense minutes of quiet, the van finally rolled to a stop in front of an old industrial zone. The roads were cracked, trash littered the edges, and in front of them loomed a decrepit abandoned factory. Its once-tall windows were either boarded up or shattered. The sky above was beginning to gray, casting an eerie light over the desolate scene. The van door slid open with a creak, and Ethan stepped out first. His shoes crunched on broken gravel as he took in the sight before him. Nothing but the looming factory. Lucas stepped out behind him, his brows furrowed. "Is this it?" Ethan shook his head, his expression unreadable. "I dont know." Then, without warning, Noah broke into a sprint, eyes wild. "Aiden! Mom!!" he yelled, charging straight for the factorys rusted doors. Evan jolted forward, startled. "WaitNoah!!" he called, but Noah didnt stop. Louie sighed deeply, already walking after him. "Man... this guy never listens." Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the moment. "LUCAS!!" The group turned. Standing near the edge of the road, helmet in one hand and chest heaving, was Charlotte Graves. Her short black hair was tousled from the ride, and her silver eyes locked sharply onto her brother. Lucas froze in place, shock clear on his face. "Sis?!" He took a step forward. "Why are you here?" Charlottes eyes narrowed, frustration flickering in her voice. "I should be the one asking that," she said, her gaze sweeping past Lucas and landing directly on Ethan. She took a few more steps toward them, the tension thick in the air. Then she looked straight at Ethan and asked, "What are you all doing here...? Youre all supposed to be at our match today. Us Thunderhawks vs You Vorpal Basket!" Ethan exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "(This is troublesome...)" he thought, knowing there was no easy way to explain this. Lucas turned back to his sister, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. "Sis, Ill explain later. But for now..." He glanced at Ethan, waiting for his cue. Without hesitation, Ethan looked toward the factory and said firmly, "Lets go. Lets follow Noah." They took off running, one after the other, into the shadow of the factory. Charlotte stood there for a second longertorn between duty, confusion, and the gnawing feeling in her chest that this was bigger than she realized. Her silver eyes sharpened with resolve. She hopped back on her bike, tossed the helmet onto the seat, and ran after them. .... They moved swiftly through the shadowed entrance of the factory, dust clouds rising with every hurried step. The air was thick, filled with the smell of rust, mold, and something else Ethan couldnt place. The corridor was wide but dimly lit, flickering overhead lights giving the place a haunted, abandoned feel. Their footsteps echoed against concrete as they followed Noah deeper into the labyrinth of old machinery and rusted catwalks. Ethan jogged ahead to catch up to him. "Noah?" he called out. But Noah didnt stop. His voice bounced down the empty hall as he shouted, "Where are you, Mom!? Aiden!!" Thena loud hiss. A sudden psshhhh sound came from the vents above, and a thin, misty cloud began to spread across the hallway, wafting downward like fog on a cold morning. Louie immediately stepped back, pulling his hoodie over his mouth. "Shit! What is this!?" Lucas turned, panic flaring in his chest as he saw the smoke drifting toward them. He grabbed Charlottes wrist. "Sis!!" Charlotte, already feeling a strange dizziness, called back with a strained voice, "Lucas!" Evan looked around frantically, his eyes already starting to flutter from the gas. "Ethan!!!" Ethan spun in place, eyes narrowing at the color and consistency of the gas. His breathing slowed as realization hit him. "This... this is sleeping gas." That was the last thing he managed to say before his legs gave out beneath him. His vision began to blur as the world tilted sideways. Around him, one by one, they dropped. Lucas, still gripping his sisters hand. Evan, trying to stay upright. Louie, swearing under his breath until his voice faded. Charlotte, her silver eyes blinking rapidly, trying to fight it. And Noah, who had been the furthest ahead, finally fell to his knees, whispering, "Mom... Aiden..." Then Silence. The gas cleared, leaving behind a hallway of unconscious bodies. And from the shadows above, unseen eyes watched. .... The hallway was silentunnaturally quiet. The bodies of the unconscious teens were scattered across the cold concrete floor, like chess pieces knocked over in a game they didnt even know they were part of. The soft hum of the old ventilation system buzzed overhead, slowly clearing out the last of the sleeping gas. Greg Tarrow stood over them. His long coat swayed gently with the breeze coming in through the broken factory windows. His eyes were sharp and coldmore like a scientist examining test subjects than a man looking at kids. From the shadows, another man stepped out. He wore a spotless white sheep mask. The glass eyes of the mask stared blankly at the bodies on the floor. "So this is your plan?" the masked man asked calmly. His voice was soft but clear, even behind the mask. "Sending them into the underground?" Greg turned just a little, not taking his eyes off the fallen teens. "I will show the higher-ups that my products are not defective. Those side effects they claim? I will prove them wrong." The Sheep tilted his head slightly. "But thats not the only reason... is it?" There was a pause. A quiet, heavy moment. Greg looked down at the group again. His voice turned colder. "...And to finish what shouldve been done long ago." The Sheep didnt reply. But behind his mask, he was thinking: (So this is your answer...) Greg stepped closer to Noah White, who lay near the front of the group. His breathing was soft and even. Greg stared down at him, and for a moment, a cruel smile crossed his lips. (John White... look at your son. Look at your family. Theyll all die todayby my hands.) Then Gregs eyes landed on Ethan Albarado. The boy was unconscious, but his body was tenselike even now, he was trying to fight. Gregs jaw tightened. (This one...) (According to the report, hes the one who gave the ointment to the White children. That... intervention. That single act. If it werent for him... everything would have gone smoothly. Everything wouldve fallen right into place.) His hand slowly curled into a fist. (Youre a variable. A contamination in my formula. And Ill correct that mistake myself.) Footsteps echoed down the hallway. More people arrivedfigures in black suits, faces hidden behind dark visors. They lined up behind Greg, silent and ready. The Sheep stayed back, saying nothing. But inside his mind, his thoughts were clear. (A man consumed by revenge is already drowning in vengeance. Greg, are you the one who stares into the abyss, or the one who falls into it?) To be continue Chapter 67 - 54: White (10) Chapter 67: Chapter 54: White (10) Deep underground, the air was thick and stale, lit by the flickering yellow bulbs lining the metallic walls. A massive reinforced glass window stood before a room, casting its cold reflection onto the cemented hallway. Behind it, Greg Tarrow stood with his arms crossed, looking down into the chamber that held two figuresAiden White and Panny White, bound and seated on metal chairs. Aidens head hung low, still unconscious. But Panny raised her head, her eyes burning with defiance and confusion. "Why are you doing this, Greg!!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the chamber walls. Greg didnt respond at first. He simply stared, his face tight with bitterness and rage. Then, slowly, he turned toward her with eyes that no longer held the warmth of the man they once knew. "Seriously, Panny... You and John took everything from me." His voice trembled slightlynot with fear, but fury. "My wife died. My daughter died. Because of you lot!" Pannys brows furrowed, struggling to comprehend. "What? What are you talking about?" Greg snapped his gaze away, jaw clenched. "You dont need to know." He stepped toward the side panel. "The only thing you need to understand is... youll both die today." Without another word, Greg pressed his hand to a scanner near the side of the room. A panel slid open, revealing a narrow passage that led to a secret control room. He entered swiftly, shutting the panel behind him with a metallic hiss. Inside the control room, the air buzzed with static. He approached the central console and pulled out a remote device from his coat pocket. With a press of a button, nine monitors flickered to lifeeach screen displaying a different figure. Some were younger, in their 30s, others middle-aged or late 50s. Each face had one thing in common: power. They werent present physically, but their presence on-screen was just as sharp and commandinga council of elites from the shadows. At the center screen sat a stoic old man, eyes half-lidded but dangerous. Greg stood tall before them. "Hello, everyone." They didnt greet him back. One woman, early 50s, with striking silver hair and a sharp tone, leaned toward her camera. "The Sheep informed us. Youve taken teenagers, Greg. You know what happens if this leaks" Greg cut in, voice calm but confident. "Rest assured. None of this will ever trace back to the organization." A sharp-faced man in his late 30s leaned forward, clearly agitated. "What do you mean, Greg?! Youve taken Romanovs children! The Graves siblings. You do understand who youve messed with, right?" His voice cracked with intensity. "Romanov is the CEO of BACBasketball Asian Company. You think shell stay quiet when she hears her children are hostages?" Gregs eye twitched, but he held his ground. "Jed, I know what Im doing. Ive taken precautions. They wont trace this to you. To any of you. Theyll only see me."The old man in the center finally spoke. His voice was cold, deliberate. "Hmmm... You better be right." He leaned slightly forward, as if pressing his will through the screen. "If this causes trouble for the organization..." A beat. "...You know what comes next." Gregs cocky demeanor flickered for a moment. He swallowed hard, his pride clashing with the gravity of that single threat. "...Yes, sir." A man in his early forties, sitting comfortably on one of the screens, decided to change the subject. "Anyway, Greg... this pill of yours. The one thats supposed to revolutionize things. What exactly are we looking at?" As he heard those words, Gregs eyes regained their spark. With a quick click on his remote, another monitor lowered from the ceiling and lit up with a live feed. A high-ceilinged gym appeared on screen, dimly lit with two groups standing at each end of the court. One team wore sleek black and red jerseys labeled "Venganza." The other team wore plain, mismatched jerseys with no logosclearly unprepared, confused, and out of place. 11 teenagers. Five of them looked cold, precise, almost mechanicallike soldiers. The other six ... were just kids. The man in his 40s leaned in, intrigued. "Hoh... Whats this?" Gregs voice brimmed with pride. "As you can see, the ones wearing the Venganza jerseys are my test subjects. Five 14-year-olds who were talentless, overlooked, completely average. After taking my pill, however..." He smirked. "Theyve become something else entirely. Faster. Stronger. Sharper." He gestured toward the others. "And the rest? Ordinary players. Naturally gifted, some even trained. But I wanted to prove something..." He looked directly at the monitors. "No matter how good you arewithout the pill, youre obsolete." The old man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... interesting." But the man in his late 30s suddenly leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the screen. "Wait a minute... thats Lucas Graves. And his sister... Charlotte, isnt it?" Greg chuckled darkly. "Correct. They sneaked into my facility along with a few others. So I figured... why not use this intrusion as an opportunity?" The monitor beside him lit up with another voicegruff and suspicious. A man in his late 40s leaned into the camera. "That yellow-haired kid... blue eyes... Ive seen him before." Greg didnt miss a beat. "Ethan Albarado. Yes, the one who interfered with our project. The one who gave that ointment to the White familys children." A woman in her 30s visibly reacted on her screen. "Hes the reason the Phase I..." Greg nodded solemnly, then looked at the screen, his voice low and seething. "Exactly. A thorn in our side from the beginning. But now... hes here. They all are. And Ill eliminate them. Every last one." Another man, late 40s, sighed and leaned back in his chair. "You better not make this mess bigger than it already is, Greg..." Greg turned to the glass window, where the arena lights now flared to life. "Dont worry. I told youI planned all of this." He clenched the remote in his hand and smirked with the weight of obsession. "This is my show. My revolution. And now... Sit back, and enjoy the demonstration." ..... Underground Arena C Metal Floor Court, Dim Lighting, Surveillance Cameras Watching From Above Six teenagers stood in the middle of a strange, wide-open court, surrounded by towering walls of steel. Overhead, bright lights snapped on, revealing the glossy floor beneath them. On the far end of the court stood five players, each dressed in sleek black-and-red jerseys bearing one word: VENGANZA. They stood like statues, eyes cold, motionlesslike predators waiting for the signal to strike. Ethan Albarado scanned the court, his breath steady. His eyes locked onto the opposing players, then glanced toward the ceiling. "Calm down... everyone." His voice was quiet but firm, trying to bring some sense of control to the chaos. Inside, though, his thoughts were storming. "(Tsk... There was no Venganza team in the novel. This... This must be the ripple. Because of me... the plots completely off the rails.)" Louie Gee Davas stumbled forward, hands on his knees, panting. "What the hell? Where are we?! What is this place?!" Lucas Graves looked at Ethan, the tension in his face barely hidden. "What should we do?" Evan Cooper knelt beside Noah White, checking him over. "Are you okay, man?" Noah was shakingnot from fear, but fury. "Wheres Aiden... and Mom?!" He whipped around, eyes darting toward every dark corner. Charlotte Graves stood behind her brother, arms wrapped around herself. "None of this makes sense. This... this isnt just a game." And then, like poison laced in the air, a voice echoed across the arena, amplified and omnipresent. "Youre probably confused by now." Noahs eyes widened. That voice That voice. He clenched his fists, trembling with rage. "BASTARD! WHERE DID YOU TAKE MY MOM AND MY BROTHER?!" A crackling laugh followed. It was Greg. "Now now... chill. Your mother and brother are safe... for now." His voice turned darker, more venomous. "They wont be safe for too long." "YOU BASTARD!!" Noah roared, his voice echoing off the metal walls. Ethan stepped forward, lifting his chin. "So... why did you bring us here? Is this about playing some game?" Greg chuckled. "As expected of you, Ethan Albarado. I know you..." Ethans jaw tightened. "...You know me?" "Hmm... well, lets not spoil everything at once," Greg teased. "Ill keep it simple. You six... versus my team: Venganza." The lights shifted, illuminating the five enhanced players. Their muscles twitched with anticipation, eyes unblinking. "Beat them in a basketball match... and Ill let you all go. That includes Aiden and your mother, Noah White." Noahs breath hitched. His hands shook, not from fearbut desperation. "But..." Gregs tone twisted like a knife. "...If you lose?" He paused for effect. "Then every single one of you... dies." There was silence. Crushing, suffocating silence. Then Greg laughedlong, loud, and cruel. "Of course, I dont think youll win. Because the ones youre facing... are no longer just players. They are my masterpiece." The five players from Team Venganza stepped forwardeach one distinct, each one exuding a different kind of danger. Their jerseys clung to their well-built frames, and their eyes glowed faintly under the lights, a side effect of the pills coursing through them. The one at the fronta tall boy with slick black hair and a wicked smirk, spoke first. "So, these are the people were up against?" He clicked his tongue. "Tch. I thought theyd at least look like a challenge." His name, Vin Cruz, the captain of Venganza. Ethans eyes narrowed. The pressure coming off Vin alone was suffocating. His presence screamed power and unnatural precision. Once again, Gregs voice appeared. "Now. Show me your spirit. Or die trying." To be continue Chapter 68 - 55: White (11) Chapter 68: Chapter 55: White (11) Time: 1:10 PM Location: White Corporation HQ The soft hum of the AC and the shuffling of papers filled the office of John White, CEO of White Corporation, a company dedicated to cutting-edge athletic supplements. Dressed in a pristine navy suit, he sat with his usual composed demeanor, signing off a stack of contracts, eyes sharp but calm. Just as he reached for the next folder, a knock disrupted the rhythm. "Come in," John said, not lifting his gaze. The door creaked open and Eric Weck, his long-time assistant, stepped inuneasy, hands trembling slightly as he held a tablet. "Sir..." John finally looked up, catching the tension on Erics face. "Hmm?" Eric hesitated for a second before speaking. "Your wife... and your son... Theyre not there." Johns pen froze mid-air. "...What do you mean?" Eric swallowed. "At the hospital, sir. Theyre gone. I only saw your daughter, Lily... and she was crying." The color drained from Johns face. He stood abruptly, his chair sliding back with a screech. "What about Noah?! Where is he!?" "Hes not in the house either, sir. Just your daughter. The maids say he was with your wife last night, but this morningnothing." "The CCTV," John barked. "Did you check it?" Eric nodded quickly and handed him the tablet. "Yes, sir. This is the footage." John snatched it and pressed play. The screen showed grainy black-and-white footage of the hospital hallway. Time stamp: 10:40 AM. John watched. A figurehis wifewalking quickly, holding Noahs hand. She looked over her shoulder. Seconds later, shadowy silhouettes emerged at the far end. They moved with precision, clearly not hospital staff. Then The footage glitched. When it returned, the hallway was empty. Johns hand clenched the side of the tablet. Despite his reputation for being cold and distant, especially toward his sons, his heart pounded with dread. He had always been harshest with Aiden, calling him untalented, pushing him away from basketball. But it wasnt hateit was fear. Fear that Aiden would walk a path filled with pain and disappointment. That his passion would break him. But when Aiden got injured, John had been the first to call the best medical staff to the emergency room. He remembered Aidens tears, and how tightly he had unconsciously gripped his fathers hand. Now, it was happening again. But worse. "Contact every private investigator in the city," John said, his voice low but firm. "Alert the companys security division. I want facial recognition across every hospital and street camera in a 50-mile radius." Eric nodded. John stared at the paused footagehis wifes fearful eyes frozen in the frame. "Whoever took them..." he muttered, fury building in his chest, "Theyll regret it." ..... Location: Mouth of Wilson Gymnasium Time: 1:20 PM Match: Vorpal Basket vs Thunderhawks The gym buzzed with energy as students packed the bleachers, banners fluttering, and cheerleaders lined the court in perfect rhythm. The sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished hardwood was constant, echoing with every drill, bounce, and pivot. On the Vorpal Basket side, chaos simmered under the surface. Coach Fred clutched his clipboard like it was the last thing holding him together, sweat already forming under his arms. "(Tsk. Why the hell are Ethan and Lucas not here?)" he thought, biting his lip. "(Even Evans missing... They picked today to vanish?)" He turned his frustrated eyes toward his impromptu starting five. Ryan Taylor (#11) stood tall but stiff, trying to project confidence. Josh Turner (#8) adjusted the brace on his ankle, wincing slightly. Brandon Young (#15) loomed silently at center, stretching out his long arms. Coonie Smith (#6), now thrust into the role of starting point guard, sat silently on the bench, staring at his shoes. Kai Mendoza, usually erratic but passionate, shot glances at the Thunderhawks like he was ready to brawl. Only Jeremy (#42) sat on the bench, clearly nervous, bouncing his leg up and down. "No Ethan. No Lucas. No Evan. What kind of lineup is this?" Ryan thought, looking to Coach Fred for a sign. "Were walking into a slaughter." On the Thunderhawks side, there was no panic. Only discipline. Coach Lory Moore stood arms crossed, eyes scanning the gym. "Wheres Charlotte?" she thought. "This isnt like her to skip a game... And that boy, Lucas Graves, hes gone too. Somethings wrong." But her team? They didnt care. Lena Kowalski spun the ball on her finger before flicking it effortlessly through the net. She smirked as she turned to her teammate. "Hey Lena, looks like were playing against JV today. Graves and Albarado are out. Cakewalk." Isabella "Izzy" Moreno tied her shoes, then looked up. "Dont get cocky, Lena. Play like its the championship. No mercy." Sakura Tanaka, bouncing rhythmically under the basket, cracked her knuckles. "I hope they try to come inside. Im dying to block someone today." Carmen "The Tiger" Delgado, stoic and silent, simply stared across the court at Brandon Young. There was no fear in her eyesonly calculation. Eva Johansson, now starting as point guard in Charlottes absence, approached the half-court line with cool poise. She caught eyes with Coonie, offering him a small, professional nod. "You ready for this?" Coonie tightened his laces, stood slowly, and said under his breath: "...I guess." The referees walked to the center. One of them raised a hand and called: "Captains, center court." Ryan and Carmen stepped forward. Carmens arms were folded, stance relaxed but dangerous. Ryan tried to puff his chest, looking more serious than he felt. "This wont take long," Carmen said coldly. "Yeah?" Ryan tried to grin, but it felt fake. "Well see about that." Back in the huddle, Josh leaned toward Kai, keeping his voice low. "Bro... my ankle still feels weird." "Then dont land wrong," Kai whispered back. "Just pass it to me, Ill shoot." "Since when do you shoot?" "Since we dont got Lucas!" On the sideline, Coach Fred shouted nervously. "Defense first, dont let Izzy get hot early! And someone please rebound!" "I swear if we lose by 40... Im faking a heart attack and quitting," he muttered to himself, clutching his clipboard tighter. The referee raised the ball. Whistle. Tip-off. Brandon Young launched himself skywardhis long arms stretched over everyoneand cleanly tapped the ball back to Coonie Smith, who scrambled to secure it. "YES! Brandon got it!" Ryan shouted, stunned but pumped. "Lets gooo!" Kai yelled, already sprinting to the wing. Carmen blinked. "Tch. Stronger than he looks..." Coonie, nervous but focused, called out the play. "Two! Two!" And just like that... The game began. Far awaybeyond the school, beyond the gymsix missing players faced a different battlefield. And neither side could afford to lose. ..... Meanwhile The six teenagersEthan Albarado, Lucas Graves, Louie Gee Davas, Evan Cooper, Charlotte Graves, and Noah Whitestood side by side on the mysterious court, tension thick in the air. A faint electronic buzz came from the walls. It didnt feel like realityit felt like a stage. Then they saw them. Venganza. Five figures emerged from the shadowswearing sleek, pitch-black and a little bit red jerseys with crimson outlines and the word VENGANZA etched in aggressive lettering across their chests. The one in front stepped forward. He had slick black hair, a lean but toned build, and a smirk that screamed arrogance. His eyes scanned the six players like a predator eyeing wounded prey. He clicked his tongue and said: "So, these are the people were up against?" He tilted his head slightly. "Tch. I thought theyd at least look like a challenge." Vin Cruz C Captain of Venganza The air felt heavier when he spoke. Ethan narrowed his eyes. "...This guy... hes dangerous." Lucas stepped forward slightly, glaring. "Dont underestimate us just because you dont know us." Vins smirk widened. "Oh, but I do know you." He pointed directly at Ethan. "Ethan Albarado." Ethan froze for a moment. His fists clenched. "What?" Vin chuckled and turned to the rest of his team. "Looks like I struck a nerve." From behind him, four more players stepped into vieweach one carrying themselves like wolves. A broad-shouldered boy twirled the ball on his finger with unnatural grace.A sharp-eyed girl with electric blue hair cracked her knuckles, grinning wide.Another boy leaned casually against the wall, balancing on one foot, chewing gum.The final figure wore a blank expression, but his eyes glowed faint redcold and analytical. Vin crossed his arms. "Were called Venganza for a reason. We dont play for fun. We punish." Louie stepped up next to Lucas. "I dont know where the hell we are, but I know one thing..." He pointed at Vin. "You guys are seriously pissing me off." Charlottes eyes flicked between the enemy and her teammates. "I think these guys are not just normal players. Somethings wrong with them..." Evan looked to Ethan and whispered: "Are we really playing them... for our lives?" Ethan didnt respond at first. Ethans eyes locked onto Vin Cruz, standing at the front of the Venganza lineup like a living shadow. A heavy feeling sank in his chest. (Scan these players, System.) [System:] Affirmative, Host. Initiating... Analyzing enemy lineup... Displaying now. Vin Cruz (Team Captain / Combo Guard) Level: ??? (Artificially Enhanced) Core Role: Leader, Scorer, Enforcer [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 13 Layup Skill: 12 Dunk Skill: 11 Dribbling Skill: 14 Passing Skill: 13 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 12 Blocking Ability: 11 Steal Skill: 14 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 14 Endurance: 13 Speed: 13 Skills: Aggressive Playmaker C Creates offense with forceful drives and confident decisions. Can get tunnel vision. On-Ball Pressure C Strong defensive presence, but struggles with elite speedsters. Leadership Boost C Teammates perform slightly better when hes on courtmore from intensity than chemistry. Flare Control C Plays with emotion, which can help or hurt depending on the moment. Kaia Volt (Shooting Guard / Speed Threat) ? Level: Enhanced (Mid Tier) Core Role: Fast break scorer and energy spark [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 12 Layup Skill: 11 Dunk Skill: 10 Dribbling Skill: 12 Passing Skill: 9 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 10 Blocking Ability: 8 Steal Skill: 12 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 12 Endurance: 10 Speed: 14 Skills: Quick Cut Mastery C Excellent at quick direction changes. Can be baited into mistakes. High-Energy Press C Good full-court pressure defender, but burns stamina fast. Explosive First Step C Deadly on fast breaks, but lacks control in traffic. Overheat Risk C Plays better early; performance dips if forced into long shifts. Zeke Monroe (Small Forward / Lockdown Wing) ? Level: Enhanced (Mid Tier) ? Core Role: Quiet defender, opportunistic scorer [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 12 Layup Skill: 8 Dunk Skill: 9 Dribbling Skill: 10 Passing Skill: 8 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 13 Blocking Ability: 10 Steal Skill: 11 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 11 Endurance: 12 Speed: 10 Skills: Still Defender C Excellent at staying in front of opponents, but doesnt force turnovers unless needed. Silent Read C Rarely speaksjust watches and reacts. Takes time to warm up. Rhythm Killer C Disrupts offensive flow with subtle body positioning. Limited Creativity C Doesnt create shotsneeds system or kick-outs to score. Dante Cruz (Power Forward / Vision Specialist) ? Level: Enhanced (Mid Tier) ? Core Role: Secondary playmaker, rebounder, stabilizer [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 10 Layup Skill: 10 Dunk Skill: 11 Dribbling Skill: 10 Passing Skill: 13 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 9 Blocking Ability: 10 Steal Skill: 8 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 12 Endurance: 11 Speed: 9 Skills: ? Calm Floor General C Controls pace, but isnt fast. Struggles in fast-paced systems. Strong Frame C Boxes out well and absorbs contact, but lacks burst. Overhead Vision C Finds shooters and cutters easilystruggles when trapped. Tunnel Setup C Will pass even when a shot is better, over-relies on creating for others. Silas Korrin (Center / Paint Protector) ? Level: Enhanced (High Defense, Low Offense) ? Core Role: Rim protector, defensive anchor [Offensive Attributes:] Shooting Accuracy: 8 Layup Skill: 9 Dunk Skill: 12 Dribbling Skill: 6 Passing Skill: 7 [Defensive Attributes:] Defense: 14 Blocking Ability: 15 Steal Skill: 9 [Physical Attributes:] Stamina: 10 Endurance: 13 Speed: 8 Skills: ? Paint Lockdown C Extremely tough inside defender. Struggles on the perimeter. Emotionless Focus C Doesnt react or show emotionhard to read, but slow to adjust. Heavy Finisher C Finishes strong near the rim, but very little finesse. Slow Decision Maker C Takes time to process on offensebest when kept simple. Ethan stared at the profiles; eyes wide. His mind started to race. (Fuck... their skills are way stronger than the Orlando Hoops...) (...and their captain... Tsk... hes even stronger than Alec Storm...) (This is dangerous... this game is...) Ethan felt it in his chesta dull, pounding pressure that wasnt just nerves. It was heavier than fear, deeper than tension. His heart thudded like a warning drum. (No... this isnt just a game anymore. This... this is survival.) He stepped forward. His sneakers echoed against the polished court floor, his eyes locking onto Vin Cruztheir captain, their enforcer, the one with those cold, calculated stats burned into Ethans mind. Every inch of Ethans body screamed caution, but his voice came out steady and defiant. "If we win," he said, staring down the had slick black hair of a captain, "you let us go?" There was a pause... then the walls themselves responded, voice distorted like it was crawling through wires and metal. Greg. "Yes, yes~!" Greg cooed, giddy and venomous. "If you beat my little team... you all get to go back. Even Noahs sweet, precious family." The tone shiftedlike the smile on his face twisted into something unspeakable. "But..." he added, now low, deliberate, almost whispering. "If you losegame over. Literally." Noah clenched his fists. "Youre using this like its a game! Youre sick!" Vin didnt even flinch. He didnt argue. He simply smiled. But it wasnt a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who enjoyed breaking people who still had hope. "Lets see if youre worth the trouble, little heroes." A faint whir echoed from the center of the court. A silver pedestal rose slowly, mechanically, from the wood. On topa basketball, humming with unknown energy. (Automatic tip-off kinda thing) Above them, a voicenot humanrang out like a countdown from heaven or hell: "Tip-off in 10 seconds." The court lights dimmed slightly, casting long shadows beneath their feet. The ball levitated between both teams, energy crackling faintly. Lucas, standing beside Ethan, leaned in, his voice hushed but urgent. "Ethan.." Ethans eyes darted across the court, reading positions, analyzing. His pupils pulsed faintly with data still syncing from the system scan. Then, his voice cut through the noisefirm, decisive. "Noah, stay put for now." Noah, already stepping forward, froze mid-stride. "What?" he asked, confused, his voice tinged with frustration. Ethan turned slightly, not looking back, but speaking loud enough for Noah to hear. "Dont worryIll tell you when I need you. But for now..." He looked to the sideline. "...we need Charlotte." Noahs jaw tightened. His fists clenched, knuckles white. He didnt understand, not fullybut he trusted Ethan. Still, the sting was there. Ethan finally looked back, locking eyes with him. "Its not because youre not skilled." "Its because I need you for that plan." There was a silence. Then Noah nodded oncetight, restrained. "...Fine." Behind them, Charlotte stepped forward, her eyes already narrowed at her matchup. 10... Ethan took his place, locking eyes with Silas across the circle. 9... Kaia bounced lightly on her toes, cracking her neck, energy humming off her skin. 8... Zeke stood still, one hand in his pocket, gum moving slowly between his lips. 7... Vin rolled his shoulders, lips curled like he already knew the ending. 6... Dante adjusted his headband, eyes glowing faintly redcalculating, unblinking. 5... Lucas exhaled hard, grounding himself. This wasnt a dream. This wasnt a warm-up. 4... The rest of the Vorpal players and Charlotte are locked in, adrenaline rising. 3... 2... 1... The ball shot upsilently, flawlessly. To be continue Chapter 69 - 56: White (12) Chapter 69: Chapter 56: White (12) 2... 1... The countdown disappeared. No buzzer. No whistle. Just a sudden, almost unnatural silence as the ball shot into the airsuspended in a perfect vertical line, like it had been fired from the center of the earth itself. It was almost beautiful. But there was no time to admire it. Silas Korrin moved like a piston. His legs flexed and launched upward, towering over everyone around him. He didnt even have to tryhis long arm smacked the ball with precision, sending it flying back with a clean, practiced motion. Louie said " He is fucking big!!" Straight into the waiting hands of Dante Cruz. "Defense!!" Ethans voice cracked like thunder across the court, snapping his team out of that brief trance. Lucas was already moving, heart racing as adrenaline flooded his limbs. "I got this!!" he shouted, seeing Dante eye his next pass. Lucas anticipated it perfectlyDantes body shifted just slightly, just enough to telegraph his intentions. Lucas pushed off the hardwood, ready to intercept But something slammed into him. It wasnt a shove. Not loud enough to be obvious. Just a sly, quick elbow to the ribs, right before he could jump into the passing lane. It knocked him off-balance just enough to miss. Pain flared in his side. Not sharpjust enough to sting and piss him off. He gritted his teeth. "This is a foul!" he hissed, eyes snapping toward the one whod clipped him. Zeke Monroe was still leaning lazily, gum tucked in his cheek, hands loose at his sides. He didnt even look apologetic. If anything, he looked bored. "Not if theres no referee." Lucas froze. That line hit harder than the elbow. No rules. No whistle. No one to call anything fair or unfair. Just them. Just this court. Just this brutal reality. "So thats how it is..." Dante Cruz didnt even flinch at the commotion. Quiet as a shadow, he redirected the ball with a smooth flick of his wrist. He didnt look rushed. He didnt even seem to blink. The pass found its way into the hands of Vin Cruz. Everything slowed. Vin caught the ball like hed been born with it already in his hands. There was no hesitation. No wasted motion. His body moved with fluidity, the way rivers flow around stone. Eyes locked forward. Posture poised like a predator ready to pounce. The captain of Venganza had entered the game. And the real matchno, the real trialhad finally begun. Vin locked eyes with Ethan as he casually dribbled the ball up the court. The rest of the world seemed to blur outjust the two of them, the heat rising between them like steam off asphalt. Vins voice cut through the tension, calm but sharp. "You... Ethan Albarado." Ethan immediately dropped into his stance, legs bent, arms out, eyes focused. "Answer mehow do you know me?" He was already trying to calculatethe angles, the options, the risks. Vin smirked, taking another slow dribble forward. "I watched the video. The game against Orlando Hoops." His eyes narrowed with something that wasnt quite admiration. "Ill admit... your strategies in that game were admirable." A beat passed. Then his tone shifted, dropping low, smooth like oil on water. "But... your strategies wont work on me." Without warning, Vin exploded into a crossoverfaster than anything Ethan had seen on the court. The ball snapped from one hand to the other, his hips shifted, and in a blink, he was gone. Ethan reacted late. His foot slipped just half an inch and that was enough. (Hes really... faster than I thought.) He pivoted hard, trying to recover. His eyes scanned for the ballbut by the time he did, it was already behind him. Vin had slipped past with surgical precision, a blur in motion. Ethan turned, stunned, breath caught in his throat. Vin didnt look back. He just said over his shoulder "You think too much." Vin didnt waste a second. As soon as he cleared Ethan, his eyes locked on the rim. His steps were preciseone, twofluid, like he was born in rhythm. The court beneath him barely seemed to exist as he gathered his energy. With a single bounce, he rose. Time slowed for everyone but him. His form was clean. Elbow in. Follow-through high. A flick, not forced. The ball left his fingertips with the kind of confidence you couldnt teachonly earn. (Perfect release...) Ethan thought, still recovering his footing, eyes wide as the shot sailed. The ball arced high into the air, spinning clean, the net waiting like it already knew. Swish. The sound echoed. It wasnt loud, but it cut deepslicing through the silence that followed. Vin landed, already turning, walking back as if it was nothing. He glanced at Ethan over his shoulder. No smile. Just focus. "1-0. Better keep up." Ethan clenched his fists. "(Damn it... hes not just fast. Hes efficient. His moves are unbelievable.)" Charlotte ran up beside him, voice firm but supportive. "Ethan. Shake it off. We got next possession." Ethan nodded slowly, exhaling through his nose. (Dont get caught in his rhythm. Make him react. Force him off-script.) Evan look concern saying " Are you okay lucas?" Lucas jogged over, rubbing his ribs. "Im fine, but these guys play dirty." "Yeah," Ethan said under his breath, locking eyes with Vin again. "And theyre not even hiding it." He turned to his team, voice rising. "Lets move! ... In a sterile, dimly lit control room far above the court, a wall of sleek monitors glowedeach screen showing a different angle. Some displayed the players on the court. Others? They were locked on Greg himself. Behind those screens sat a row of powerful men and womenboard members, investors, partnerssilent, analytical, and judgmental. Every expression Greg made, every word he spoke, was being scrutinized as much as the blood-pumping chaos unfolding below. One monitor zoomed in on Ethan gritting his teeth as Vin drove past him. Another showed Lucas holding his ribs where hed been elbowed. And yet another screen... showed Greg, sweating slightly under the pressure of their gazes. A man in his 40s, leaned forward, his voice calm but sharp as a blade. "Why is there no referee?" Gregs head tilted slightly at the sound, picked up through his own earpiece. He tried to keep his cool, but his throat tightened. "Um..." The man narrowed his eyes, fingers steepled. "This is not fair! How can you prove your product is great when your so-called masterpieces are fouling them left and right? How can you demonstrate real value if they play like savages?" He scoffed, waving toward the screen. "This is nothing but a brawl. This isnt fun at all... I want real entertainment!!" Gregs eyes flicked to the corner camera watching him. (Tsk... theyre even watching me now...) He swallowed hard, plastering on a quick smile. Clapping his hands, he shouted toward the entrance of the control floor. "Guard!!" The doors opened, and a tall, built man stepped forward, already alert. "Sir." Greg jabbed a finger toward the live feed of the court. "Youre going down there. Act as the referee." The guard blinked. "Sir?" "You heard me," Greg snapped. "You know the rules of basketball, right?" "Sir, yes sir." "Then good. Enforce them." His voice dropped as he leaned closer. "Clean it up... but dont ruin the entertainment." The guard gave a tight nod and turned, leaving quickly. The doors hissed shut behind him. Back in the control room, the board members watched silently as the guard moved through the hallway cams toward the court. The 40 years old man looked back at Greg through the screen. "You better hope this gets more interesting." Greg forced another smile, even as his hands clenched behind his back. (They want a show? Then Ill give them one..) .... Back to the game. The scoreboard flashed: 1 - 0, in favor of Venganza. Charlotte stood at the top of the key, her eyes focused, sweat glistening on her forehead. She held the ball firmly, scanning the defense. In front of her stood a slender girl with quick feet and lightning-fast reflexesKaia Volt, Venganzas Shooting Guard. Her reputation? A speed demon. But Charlotte wasnt one to be underestimated. She was the captain of Thunderhawks for a reason. Kaias eyes twinkled as she sized Charlotte up. "Same girl as me~ Hehehe." She sounded innocent, playfuleven childlike. But then something shifted. Her pupils dilated. Her grin widened unnaturally. "Name is Zaia. Lets play-play!! Gahhahaha!!" "What...?" Charlotte flinched at the tone. It wasnt the same person anymore. Kaiaor Zaia nowstarted bouncing on her feet with unnatural energy, dribbling wildly as she approached. "(This girl... shes like a kid playing tag. Her entire vibe just changed. Whats going on?)" Charlotte thought, taking a defensive stance. Zaia giggled like a maniac, then suddenly lunged forward, not for the ballbut to grab Charlottes wrist mid-dribble, yanking it just enough to cause pain. "Ah!!" Charlotte winced, her hand stinging. It was clearly a foul. "Foul!! Thats a foul!" she shouted. Zaia ignored her, giggling as she snatched the ball from Charlottes momentary hesitation. Dribble-dribble. Spin. Giggling. Skip-step. She sprinted down the court like a girl playing in the rainreckless and wild. But just as she passed it to Vin, a blur of movement cut across her path Ethan Albarado. He timed it perfectly, intercepting the pass cleanly with both hands. Without pausing, Ethan launched into a fast break, dashing toward Venganzas hoop, sneakers pounding the floor. For a moment, adrenaline surgeduntil .... WHAM. A sharp elbow slammed into his sideZeke Monroe had collided with him mid-sprint, intentionally. "Tsk!" Ethan winced, stumbling to keep balance. Zeke stood tall, smug. "Why are you blaming me?" he said coolly. "You see a referee anywhere?" He smirked, but then FWEEEEEEEEET!! A loud whistle echoed across the court. Everyone froze. A voicefirm and authoritativecalled out: "Foul. Number 13unsportsmanlike contact." Zeke blinked, confused. "What?! Theres a referee now?" From the sidelines, a man stepped onto the courttall, uniformed in black and white stripes, holding a whistle confidently. The players stared. He met Zekes eyes without fear. "Yes. And Im watching every play from now on." For the first time in the match, order had entered the chaos. Charlotte rubbed her wrist, staring at the new arrival. "(Finally... someones here to fix this mess.) To be continue Chapter 70 - 57: White (13) Chapter 70: Chapter 57: White (13) Louie Gee Davas, with his thin build and neatly combed straight hair, clenched his fists as he stared down the Venganza team. His voice echoed with raw emotion across the court. "Serves you right, you motherfucker! You dare touch our captain?!" He pointed accusingly at Zeke, fury burning in his eyes. Louie was Ethans number one faneveryone on the team knew that. He had trained under Ethans guidance, learning techniques far beyond what his current level suggested. From behind him, Evan stepped in, putting a calming hand on Louies shoulder. "Now, now. Calm down, Louie. Dont let them get in your head." Louie scowled but said nothing more, gritting his teeth. Meanwhile, Lucas glanced over at Charlotte, his sister, who was flexing her sore wrist, trying to shake off the sting from the foul. "Sis... you shouldnt have come here," Lucas muttered with a sigh, concern creeping into his voice. Charlotte gave him a smirk, then rolled her eyes. "It was because of my stupid little brother worrying about his sisterthats why Im here." Lucas let out a defeated sigh. He couldnt argue with her. After all, Charlotte Graves, age 15, was only a year older, but her presence was commanding. Stubborn and skilledshe always did what she thought was right. Then, the newly arrived referee, standing tall with a whistle around his neck and a clipboard in hand, barked out sharply: "Back to your positions! Ordinarys ball" The players blinked in confusion. "Ordinary?" Lucas echoed, furrowing his brows. Charlotte nodded slowly, brushing hair behind her ear. "It looks like... thats what theyre calling our team." "Ordinary?" Louie snapped, offended. "They call us ordinary when our team is filled with talents?" Ethan, standing at the top of the key, exhaled quietly. He rubbed his temples, letting the noise die out around him. Then, slowly, he turned to face the Venganza team. "(An enhanced player... they really are troublesome. Tsk. I wonder... if there are side effects.)" His eyes narrowed, analyzing their movements, the way they breathed, the strange aggression in their eyes. FWEEEEET!! The referees whistle cut through his thoughts like a blade. "What are you doing?! Hurry up unless you want a violation!" The court fell silent but tense, every player stiff like coiled springs. Louie took the ball with a scowl and inbounded it to Ethan, his pass crisp and fast. Ethan caught it mid-stride and immediately began dribbling up the court, his eyes locked on the approaching defenders. Up ahead stood Vin Cruz, captain of Venganza. A teen with slicked-back hair and a lean frame, yet there was something dangerous in the way he movedlike a predator on the prowl. Vins eyes met Ethans, and a sly grin curled on his lips. "Hoh... You look like youre going to kill me... such instinct." Ethan said nothing. His face was stone, his eyes sharp. He stayed focused, dribbling closer with calm control. Thenhesi dribble. A lightning-quick hesitation move. Ethans body jolted slightly, baiting Vin forward. Vin bit. For a split second, he lunged. Ethan blew past him. But then... Vin grinned. Like it was all part of the plan. Ahead, Dante Cruz, Vins younger brother and the Power Forward of Venganza, was already waiting. He wasnt just tall and stronghe was a Vision Specialist, always seeing two moves ahead. Ethan froze for a half-second mid-dribble as Dante stepped into his path, arms spread wide. "(Shit... he made me think I baited him... they baited me!)" Behind him, Lucas saw it all unfoldthe illusion, the trap, the collapse of momentum. He slammed his fist into his palm, jaw clenched. "Damn it! That was a setup from the start!" Meanwhile Noahs eyes narrowed from the bench, his body leaning forward slightly, muscles tight with frustration. "(They... theyre coordinated. Every move calculated. Like theyve done this a thousand times.)" Venganza wasnt just powerful, they were orchestrated chaos. Predators on a court without a cage. ... Back on the court "(Shithe wanted me to do that!)," Ethan realized, too late. Vins speed was explosive. His body snapped back into motion, a blur of muscle and instinct. With a sudden lunge, he knocked the ball clean out of Ethans hands. "Shit," Ethan hissed under his breath, skidding slightly as his balance broke. Vin, now in control, spun with the ball, starting a deadly fastbreak "Lets end this quick," he murmured, already looking ahead for his teammates. But he never saw Lucas Graves coming. A flash of motion behind himcalculated, calm, lethal. "What?" Vins voice faltered. Lucas golden eyes gleamed under the harsh gym lights, locked onto the ball like a hawk mid-dive. He wasnt guessing. He knew what Vin would do. This was Absolute Mimicry in action. A flicker of the past surged in his muscles. Philadelphia. 1999. Allen Iversonten steals in a single playoff game. Lucas had studied that game frame by frame. And now, he lived it. He shifted his stance ever so slightlyjust like Iverson. Feet staggered, hand twitching like a trap. As Vin tried to pivot away SLAP! Lucas hand struck. Lightning-fast. Perfect angle. Perfect timing. The ball popped free. Vins smirk died on his lips. "Tchthis kid...!" Lucas didnt even stop. He spun on the balls of his feet, his body moving like water around a rock, gathering the ball in motion and already racing forward. Ethan blinked, startled by the reversal, then burst into motion beside Lucas, sprinting to catch up. Their feet thundered against the floor in sync. For a brief second, their eyes met in the chaos. Lucas grinned sideways. "Next time, dont fall for the bait, captain." Ethan huffed, smirking despite himself. "Then cover me next time, mimic boy." Lucas grinned back. "Yeah!!" He surged forward, dribbling fast. His feet danced across the court, sneakers thudding against polished wood as Ethan sprinted right behind him. But speed wasnt on their side alone. From the side A blur of movement. "Not on my watch!" Kaia Volt had arrived. Venganzas Shooting Guard. Nicknamed Speed Demon for a reason. She closed the distance on Lucas with terrifying velocity. Lucas eyes widened. "(Shes fast...!)" Then something... shifted. Kaias grin stretched wide. Her pupils dilated. A twisted glee broke through her voice. "Play! Lets play!!!!" It wasnt Kaia anymore. It was Zaia, her other personalitythe unhinged child within the blur of lightning. Lucas thought, "(Her personality change? and... shes fast.)" But he wasnt backing down. He remembered the footage. May 13, 1999. Allen Iverson. Crossover after crossover, shaking defenders out of their shoes. Lucas body mirrored Iversons iconic cross a snatch so sharp it nearly dislocated time. Zaia gasped, her legs stumbling just slightly. "Youre GOOD!!! Lets play play play!!!" But even with her erratic movements, Zaia wasnt down yet. She kept upmatching Lucas beat for beat. Still... Lucas dug deep. He burst forward with Iversons copied iconic burst of speed. It was clean. Beautiful. Violent on the joints. But there was a cost. Lucas winced. "(Tsk... That took more out of me than I thought. I can only use that speed twice.)" He slipped past Zaia Only to be met with a wall. Silas Korrin. Venganzas Center / Paint Protector, now stepping in. His build was monstrous. Shoulders like concrete, arms wide, and his eyes locked onto Lucas. "THANKS, KAIA!!" Silas roared. "NOT ON MY WATCH!!" Lucas steps faltered for a heartbeat. But then A voice behind him, calm but blazing: Ethan smirked. "Show them who you are, Lucas." Lucas clenched his jaw. This was it. He didnt go for the usual drive. Insteadhe twisted mid-air, body folding like water around a stone. A reverse layup. The ball kissed the glass. BOOM. Basket. The sound echoed like a gunshot through a silent warzone. For a split secondtime froze. Then Ethan jogged toward Lucas, a grin tugging at the edge of his face. No words were needed at first. Their palms slapped together, a clean high-five that cracked louder than the scoreboard buzzer. "Nice finish," Ethan muttered, eyes sharp. Lucas grinned, catching his breath. "Always." No celebration. No flex. Just mutual respect. They turned in unison, jogging back to their court, heads held high. Together, they ranshoulders aligned, sweat trailing behind them like ghostly echoes. For a moment, they werent two players. They were warriors. The crowd didnt cheerbecause there was no crowd. But the roarit was still there. It came from within. In their hearts that pounding like drums. And This .... This what you called basketballpassion, real, and burning with the fire of something greater. .... Meanwhile, inside the Control Room Nine monitors cast a pale blue glow across the dark room, illuminating the faces of the higher-ups watching the chaos unfold. At the center of it all: the big screen. It showed Ethan and Lucas retreating to their side of the court, heads held high after that slick reverse layup. On Monitor 3, a man in his 40s leaned forward with a wide grin, eyes twinkling behind thin-framed glasses. "Ahahahaha! Now this is what we call entertainment!" Drew laughed, his voice echoing through the speakers like a circus ringleader hyped up on adrenaline. On Monitor 5, a stern 50-year-old woman crossed her arms, her lips tight, clearly unimpressed. "Shut up, Drew." Drew scoffed, brushing her off like lint on his suit jacket. "You should drink some supplements or something. Youre one outburst away from a heart attack, Highblood Queen." "What did you just say?" she growled, leaning toward her camera. Before it could escalate further, a deep voice from Monitor 1 cut through the tension like steel through silk. "Quiet. Both of you." Everyone paused. Even the buzzing machines in the room seemed to hush. The old man leaned back into the shadows of his chair, only the glow of the monitor catching his steepled fingers and sharp eyes as they studied the screen. His gaze narrowed at the duo running back on defense. "(These two kids... Theyre troublesome. In the world of basketball, theyll be thorns in everyones side if left unchecked.)" Meanwhile, off to the side in the same control room Greg stood stiffly, arms behind his back, watching the feed with a clenched jaw. The cheers from the court didnt reach this room, but the tension was just as loud. He stole a glance toward the far walltoward the 9 glowing monitors and the array of cold eyes judging every frame. Then back to the main screen. Ethan. Lucas. "(Tsk... That mustve been luck. No way they can defeat my masterpiece. My Venganza team...)" .. Meanwhile Score: 1 - 1. Ordinary vs. Venganza. The tension was building. The court was alive. The crowd? Breathless. As Ethan and Lucas jogged back toward their teammates, the energy around them was shifting. Louie stood near the three-point line, watching the duo with narrowed eyes. His fists clenched at his sides. "(Tch... I couldve done that too...)" He didnt mean to be bitter, but the way Ethan had grinned at Lucas... That look of pride. The connection. Louie felt a sting of jealousy. "(He impressed Ethan... before I could.)" On the sideline, Evans usual cool composure broke into a small grin. His eyes followed Ethan and Lucas. "Weve got a real shot at this game," Evan said aloud, mostly to himself. Charlotte walked to her spot near the arc, stealing a look at her younger brother as he approached with a smug grin on his face. "Did you see my moves?" Lucas said, practically bouncing with excitement. Charlotte rolled her eyes but couldnt hide the soft tug at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, yeah. I saw." Lucas smiled even wider, teeth flashing like hed just won a prize. "Told you I could play." Charlotte crossed her arms. "You might be good..." she said, raising a brow, "...but thats not enough to win." Lucas blinked, then laughed sheepishly. "Right... still got a long way to go." Ethan watched the sibling exchange with a quiet smile, the kind that hid a sigh underneath. There was no time to relax. He turned to face the court, his gaze locked in on the Venganza team gathering on the other side. The wind seemed to still for just a second. Then Ethan raised his voice. "Lets do thiseveryone!" A chorus followed in response: "Hai!!!" The Ordinary roared. Their voices rang through the gym, louder than the scoreboard, louder than the Venganza stares. This was more than just a tie. It was a warning shot. To be continue Chapter 71 - 58: White (14) Chapter 71: Chapter 58: White (14) The game clock ticked on, but the score remained a tense 1-1. The battle on the court was far from over. Each player was feeling the weight of the game. Vin Cruz, the captain of Venganza, stood tall and poised. His lean frame and slicked-back hair gave him the appearance of a player who had seen it all. His presence alone was enough to command attention. He glanced around at his team, their eyes all focused on him. Zeke Monroe (Small Forward / Lockdown Wing), tall and imposing, stood with a quiet intensity. Dante Cruz (Power Forward / Vision Specialist), always calm, was ready to act when needed. Silas Korrin (Center / Paint Protector), a mountain of muscle, wasnt one to be easily moved. And then, Kaia Volt (Shooting Guard / Speed Threat), her eyes were electric with energy. A loose cannon, but undeniably dangerous. Vin nodded. With a sharp whistle from the referee, the game resumed. Vin turned to his teammates and spoke, his voice cold yet commanding. "No more mercy." Each player nodded in response, their faces hardening with determination. "Roger!" The ball was inbounded to Dante, who passed it directly to Vin. With a swift dribble, Vin surveyed the court, sizing up his opponents. Ethan was already there, guarding him, staying close. Vin smirked. "Heh," he muttered under his breath, almost taunting. Ethan, sensing the challenge, squared up, his stance steady. But Vin was quicker. With a lightning-fast fake crossover, he feinted right, and Ethan didnt bite. For a moment, it seemed like Ethan had won the battle of wits, but then Vins drive to the basket accelerated, leaving Ethan trying to catch up. A screen from Kaia came out of nowhere, forcing Ethan to stumble as he tried to react. "Tsk," Ethan cursed, pushing against the screen, but the gap between him and Vin was widening. Vin saw the opening. With a glance over his shoulder, he saw Lucas and Charlotte closing in, both attempting to block his shot. But Vin was in his element, his confidence unwavering. "Bye," he muttered, his voice dripping with arrogance. He leaped. As he soared through the air, the crowd seemed to hold its breath, watching as the ball left his hands. The shot was high, almost like it could have been slow-motion, but Lucas and Charlotte could only watch helplessly as the ball arced towards the hoop. For a moment, it seemed like time stopped. Then, with a soft swish, the ball dropped through the net. 2-1 in favor of Venganza. Vin landed smoothly, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he faced the Ordinary team. ..... Ethan glanced at the scoreboard. The score was now 2-1, with only 3 minutes left in the 1st quarter. His mind raced. "(So thats how it is, huh? Just a 1-point lead.)" But his thoughts were interrupted by Louies loud exclamation from the sideline. Louie threw his hands up in frustration, his voice carrying across the court. "What the fuck?! Why is the score only one point?!" Lucas, standing next to Louie, nodded in understanding. "I think 2 points, 1 point, and 3 points is just 2 points in this game." Evan, standing by with a resigned look, sighed heavily. "Theyre too good. Too good at making things strange..." Charlotte, ever observant, turned her gaze to Ethan. She could tell he was in deep thought, his mind whirring with calculations. She walked over to him, her voice laced with concern. "Ethan. Ethan!" Ethan snapped out of his thoughts and met Charlottes gaze. "Are you okay?" Charlotte asked, her brow furrowing slightly. Ethan nodded, but there was a flicker of frustration in his eyes. "Im okay... Its just that, why did they do this 1-point and 2-point thing?" Charlotte glanced at the scoreboard and shrugged. "Maybe its just like those streetball games or something. You know, they dont always play by the book." Ethans eyes moved toward Louie, who was still fuming on the sideline. Louie, catching Ethans gaze, grinned sheepishly. "Im a streetballer, man, but even in streetball, its usually 2 points for regular shots and 3 points for the downtown stuff. This is some weird-ass rule." Ethan let out a quiet sigh as he watched the play unfold. His mind was still on the game, but the strange scoring system was throwing him off. "(Whyd they change the scoreboard like that? I hope its nothing to worry about...)" Suddenly, the referees whistle cut through the air, sharp and demanding. "What are you talking about?! Get back in the game!" Ethan snapped his attention back to the court, shaking his head to clear away any lingering doubts. There was no time for distractions now. With a determined look in his eyes, Ethan quickly jogged back toward his position, ready to face whatever the game threw his way. The Ordinary team still had a shot at this. And no matter how strange the rules, Ethan knew they had to keep pushing forward. Meanwhile Noah White, sitting on the bench, couldnt help but clench his fist tightly. His nerves were on edge, his heart pounding with every dribble, every pass, every move his teammates made on the court. He wanted to be out there, making the plays himself, contributing to the fight. But deep down, he knew Ethan had a plan for him. He trusted that Ethan knew when to bring him in, and he had to wait for his moment. Noah whispered under his breath, his eyes focused on the game. "I hope we win..." It wasnt just about the victory. It was about proving to himself and everyone else that they could pull throughEthan, Lucas, and everyone else on the team. They had come so far, and Noah wasnt about to let the pressure get to him. His role was important, even if it wasnt right now. With every passing second, the intensity on the court grew, and Noahs focus sharpened. He just had to trust Ethans judgment. ,,,,,,,, Ethan now had the ball. He took a deep breath as he crossed the half-court line, his eyes scanning the enemy teamVenganza. "(Think... think... think...)" His thoughts raced as he gripped the ball tightly, sweat forming on his brow. Each step was deliberate. He was trying to read the formation, to see where the cracks were in their ironclad defense. But before he could make his move Vin Cruz, captain of Venganza, slid in front of him like a phantom, smirk plastered across his face. "Seems like your mind is full." Vin said, voice cool and cocky, almost like he could read Ethans thoughts. Ethan didnt answer. Instead, with sharp control, he faked a drive to the left, planting hard, selling it like he was about to take off Then, in one swift motion, he crossed over to the right, the ball snapping with a clean bounce. Vins eyebrow lifted slightly. "Not bad," he muttered. "But..." "Youre forgetting someone." Ethans eyes widened. "What?" Suddenlya blur. Kaia Volt the Speed Threathad somehow appeared behind him, like a ghost phasing through shadows. "Hiik.. No- No-Not on my watch," she stuttering under her breath, hands already reaching for the ball. "Shit!" Ethan gasped, spinning slightly as he felt the pressure on the ball. Her fingers brushed the leather. But Ethan reactedinstinctively tipping the ball away, sending it spinning off the side and out of bounds. WHISTLE! The referee raised his hand. Venganza ball. Ethan stood frozen for a second, staring at where Kaia had come from. "(How did I not see her...? Wait... who was guarding her?)" He turned his head sharplyCharlotte. Charlotte was already moving toward him, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Im sorry," she said. "Ishe was just there. One second I saw her, and the next... she vanished." Louie scoffed from nearby. "Admit it, you cant guard her." Charlotte turned her head sharply toward him. "You!" Before she could lunge, Lucas stepped in, one hand raised calmly. "Sis." His voice was firm but calm, the tension between the two easing ever so slightly as Charlotte gritted her teeth and looked away. Kaia, standing with her back turned at the sideline, let out a giggle, her eyes flickering between playful and predatory. She whispered to herself, "Heehee... lets play again soon. The referee, unfazed, bounced the ball toward her. Kaia snatched it cleanly and inbounded it without hesitation A sharp pass to Zeke Monroe. Zeke caught it effortlessly, letting it hang in one hand as he walked forward with slow swagger. His face was unreadable at first... but then a wide, mocking grin spread across it. His eyes locked with Louie, who was already stepping up to guard him. "Since I cant foul you all..." Zeke said, voice slick with arrogance, "...I might as well play with you." Louie didnt say a word at first, but his eyes narrowed, his stance tightening. Zeke tilted his head. "I know what you are..." Louie finally spoke. "Oh yeah? How?" Zeke chuckled, spinning the ball on his finger, then dropping it to the floor in a low bounce between his legs. "A streetballer recognizes a streetballer." That hit. Louies expression didnt flinch, but his energy shifted. The air between them sparked like live wires. Zekes grin widened. "Try to stop this!!" SuddenlyboomZeke launched into movement, raw, chaotic, and stylish. No fundamentals. No rules. Pure streetball. He juked right, dropped his shoulder, double-crossed left, flicked the ball behind his back, then spun All in one fluid motion. The crowd gasped. Even the Venganza bench leaned forward. Louie matched the first two steps. "Cmon... is that all?" he said. But Zeke was just warming up. He slammed the ball hard into the ground, then hooked it around his back again , faking like hed drive Louie bit slightly, shifting to block But Zeke spun again, lightning-quick, now completely behind Louie. "Tch!" Louie grunted, trying to recover. Zeke drove forward, nearing the paintthen suddenly jumped for a mid-range shot. Lucas jumped to contest. Zeke released itclean. Swish. Score: 3-1. Zeke landed and turned slowly, flashing a confident grin at Louie. "Streets not enough to beat me." Louie clenched his jaw. .... Meanwhile, in the Control Room... The atmosphere was dim, screens flickering blue light across the room. The 9 towering monitors, each showing a shadowed figurethe higher-upswatched in silence as the game played out. Greg sat at the center console, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, lips curled into a grin. His eyes werent just watching the gamethey were fixed specifically on Zeke Monroe. Zeke had just made that shot, walking away with his usual smirk. But Greg... he knew the truth behind that smirk. Behind that game. He leaned back in his chair, a nostalgic smirk creeping across his face. "Five months ago..." ... Flashback C 5 months earlier A dusty outdoor court under the late afternoon sun. Zeke, thinner, with a messy afro and a quiet demeanor, dribbled on cracked pavement. No flash. No ego. Just work. Alone. Always alone. His moves were clunky, not badbut not great either. He was just... normal. Greg stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching silently behind tinted glasses. He had passed by chance. But something about Zekes relentless repetition, the sweat dripping from his face, the muttered self-talk It moved him. "This kid... hes not talented, but hes hungry." .... Back in the Control Room, Gregs grin widened. His fingers tapped the console lightly. "That was the moment I chose him..." He stared at Zekes face on the screen. "...for the experiment." ... Another flashback a cold lab room, weeks later. Zeke, now a little bulkier, stood in front of Greg, shirt half-raised as a syringe glowed in sterile light. Gregs voice echoed as he held the vial in gloved hands. "This pill? Itll wake up something in you... or destroy you. But if youre serious about being the best... take it." Zeke didnt hesitate. He took it without a word. ..... Back to the present. Gregs grin darkened into something more twisted, proud. "Now look at you, Zeke." One of the higher-ups spoke through the monitor. "You injected the streetballer, didnt you?" Greg didnt answer, just gave a light laugh. "Thats my masterpiece out there." He looked at the scoreboard. 3-1. His eyes gleamed. "Lets see how long they can survive." To be continue Chapter 72 - 59: White (15) Chapter 72: Chapter 59: White (15) A massive reinforced glass window stretched across the far side of the concrete room, cold and unfeeling. It overlooked a long, dim hallway where silence seemed to hang heavy in the air. Inside, two metal chairs were bolted to the floor. On them sat Aiden White, only fourteen, and his mother, Panny White, their hands tightly bound with steel cuffs that chafed at their skin. Before them, a giant monitor played the ongoing gameThe Ordinary vs Venganza. The glow of the screen lit their worried faces, casting deep shadows in the already grey room. Aidens eyes were fixed on the screen. His voice cracked slightly as he muttered, "Come on guys... win..." Beside him, Panny, her eyes closed, head slightly bowed. She was prayingnot just for a victory, but for something more. For escape. For hope. For her son. Aiden turned toward her, his voice quiet but serious. "Mom..." She opened her eyes slowly and turned to meet his gaze. "Aiden..." Then, softly, almost like a whisper of defeat, she said, "Im sorry..." Aiden frowned, confused. "What are you sorry about?" Panny hesitated, her lip trembling. "If... were gonna die here, might as well say sorr" "No!! Dont think like that, Mom..." Aidens voice grew louder, sharp with emotion. He stared straight into her eyes, filled with conviction despite the fear lurking inside him. "They will win... just trust them." Panny looked at him for a moment, surprised by the strength in his voice. Then she broke down. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she nodded, slowly. "If only I didnt accept that offer... perhaps none of this wouldve happened" "Thats not true at all!" Aiden cut her off, his voice shaking now, eyes wide with anger and pain. "It wasnt about the offer. It was about Greg Tarrow, Mom... He wants revenge on our family because he thinks we ruined his life. But we didnt even do those things!" His fists clenched, the cuffs cutting tighter into his skin, but he didnt care. His voice trembled as he looked into his mothers eyes. "It wasnt our fault that his business declined... It wasnt..." His voice cracked again as the tears came, unrelenting. "This is fucking unfair... so fucking unfair..." His ankle throbbedstill not fully healed from the basketball injury hed gotten days before. And now thiskidnapped, chained up, trapped in a room like some criminal. No doctor. No medicine. Just pain. Just fear. He was only fourteen. Just a kid. And yet, sitting there in that freezing, cement-walled room, Aiden tried his best not to break. Not for himself. But for her. For his mom. For his team. Because somewhere out there, he knew his friends were fightingnot just for a win. But for him. .... Location: White Corporation HQ Rain pattered gently against the towering glass windows of the White Corporation headquarters. The soft hum of machines was the only background noise in the dimly lit executive office. John White, tall, sharp-featured, and usually calm, stood by his massive desk, tension written across his face. Papers and digital reports were scattered everywhere, glowing softly in the dim light. Across from him stood Eric Weck, his long-time assistant and most trusted man. Eric cleared his throat, lowering his gaze. "Still nothing, sir..." John clenched his fist. His voice broke through the air with frustration. "Shit!!" He stormed back toward his desk, eyes darting across the report. It was everything they knew so far. The kidnapping. The disappearance. Aiden, Noah, Pannygone. No traces. No demands. Just... silence. John slammed the report down. His eyes locked with Erics. "Aiden... Noah... Panny. Theyre still out there." His voice was sharp, commanding. "Find them. I dont care what methods you usejust find them." Eric nodded quickly, his face pale but focused. But John wasnt done. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And make sure the police... or anyone else... doesnt find out about this. If they do" He paused, eyes burning. "Theyll use it against me. Against our family. I wont let that happen." Eric swallowed and said firmly, "Understood, sir. Ill handle it." As Eric rushed out, the door hissed shut behind him. The room returned to silence. John looked up at the rain again. The storm outside mirrored the storm brewing inside him. He closed his eyes, resting one trembling hand on the desk. "(Please... be safe, everyone... Just hold on a little longer...)" His heart ached with guilt and worry. He was the head of the White family. A titan in the business world. But at this moment, he wasnt thinking like a CEO. He was thinking like a father. ... Meanwhile 1st Quarter C 6:00 In Score: Thunderhawks 11 C Vorpal Basket 7 The scoreboard flickered. The crowd was deafening. Coach Fred was screaming again, clipboard flapping in the air like a dying bird. "CUT! WHOS ON LENA?! KAI, GET BACKWHY ARE YOU SHOOTING?!" But no one was listening. Because on the court, something else was happening. Coonie Smith had taken control. ..... Before that day. The gym was quiet now, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights buzzing as Ethan and Coonie sat on the bench, catching their breath after a tough practice. Coonie wiped his face with a towel, looking worn out but also thoughtful. "So... whats the deal with this Two-Two play youve been talking about? It doesnt look like anything Ive seen before." Ethan looked at the court, his eyes narrowing as he mapped out every movement in his head. "Its a rhythm thing, Coonie. This is all about control and pressure." Coonie tilted his head, confused. "What do you mean?" Ethan pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his hoodie pocket and unfolded it, revealing a hand-drawn court diagram with arrows and instructions scrawled in the margins. He slid it across to Coonie. "Here, take a look. This is Two-Two." Ethan leaned in, pointing at the diagram. "Two guards up top. Thats you and Joshnormally, Lucas, but today its you. The point guard. Youll have the ball. The key is the spacing." Coonie studied the diagram, his finger tracing the lines. "Okay, so Im bringing it up, right?" Ethan nodded. "Yeah, but youre not just running a typical offense. Heres what youre going to do: Youre gonna start the play by calling for a quick screen from Brandon at the top of the key. He sets the pick, but its not a standard screen. Hes going to pivot to slip, giving you a window to drive left or dish out." Coonie frowned, following the arrows on the paper. "So... we get the pick, and then I go to the basket?" Ethan smirked, but his eyes were sharp. "Not exactly. Youre going to fake the drive first. Act like youre going in for the layup, but make the defense bite. The real magic comes when we set the second half of the play in motion." He pointed to the far side of the court. "Kai, Josh, and Lucaswhen hes herehave to be ready on the wings. If you drive, theyll spot up for the shot. If the defense collapses, you kick it out. But if they dont react fast enough?" Ethans eyes flashed with a quiet confidence. "Then you finish the layup. Simple as that. The pressure of constant movement will wear them down, even if theyre stronger. Youll make them second-guess every decision." Coonie looked up from the diagram, processing. "Okay, so we keep cycling through, resetting each time if we dont score? What if it doesnt work the first time?" Ethans smile was faint but knowing. "We reset. We run it again. The Two-Two play isnt about a single shot. Its about forcing them to adjust until they crack. Thats where Kai and Josh come in. Theyre your wild cards. Theyll start their cuts as the defense shifts." He turned his attention back to the court, as if seeing it all unfold in his mind. "The key here is control, Coonie. Theyll want to trap or double you, and when they do, you know what to dopass. Keep it moving. Just like I told Lucas and Evan. The more they chase, the easier it gets for you to spot the open man." Coonie leaned back against the bench, thinking hard. "So its not just about us. Its about them playing our game. Our speed. We control the tempo." "Exactly," Ethan said, standing up. "We play smarter, not harder. Theyre not ready for this." Coonie stood up too, eyes now full of purpose. "Alright. Im in. But youve got to be there when I need you." Ethan gave a quiet chuckle, patting him on the back. "Dont worry. Even if Im not on the floor... Im always there. Just trust it. And when you hit that shot... Ill be watching." ..... Back in the Present - Game Time The whistle blew, signaling the start of the game. On the court, Coonie called out confidently: "TWO! TWO!" Josh Turner and Kai Mendoza quickly moved into position, as Brandon Young slid into his spot near the top of the key. Coonie dribbled the ball up, eyes scanning the defense. He could already see the Thunderhawks defense shifting, just like Ethan said they would. Lena Kowalski was glued to him, but she was starting to move more predictably. They were reacting to him. Coonie hit the top of the key, just as Brandon set the pick, pivoting toward the basket. He faked the driveLena bit on itand Coonies eyes flicked to the wing where Kai was already starting his cut. "Just like Ethan said... pressure. Keep moving." He kicked it out to Kai, who caught the ball mid-air, his form perfect as he launched a three-pointer. The ball sailed through the air. Swish. Score: Thunderhawks 11 C Vorpal Basket 10 ... Meanwhile, on the court... The score stood at 4:2Venganza was leading. The timeout buzzer echoed through the arena as both teams hustled back to their respective benches. The atmosphere was tense. The game had a different rhythm here compared to regular school basketball. The quarters were only four minutes long, which meant each second counted more than ever. Every possession, every shot, every defensive play held more weight. Vin Cruz, the captain of Venganza, stood at the edge of the court, glancing at the scoreboard with a self-assured smirk. His eyes drifted toward the Ordinary TeamEthan and his teammates, all looking determined but clearly outmatched in this high-stakes game. "No matter what they do," Vin muttered, his voice dripping with arrogance, "they cant beat us." Beside him, Kaia Volt, the lightning-quick Shooting Guard, glanced nervously at Vin, her usual confident demeanor faltering. "Um..." she began, unsure of herself. Vin turned his attention to her, eyebrow raised. "What?" he asked, his voice slightly impatient. The moment the words left Vins mouth, Kaia seemed to shrink under the weight of everyones gaze. The intensity of the moment was too much for her, and suddenly, her entire body language shifted. She didnt just get nervousshe became a completely different person. Zaia, her alternate personality, emerged. Her posture straightened, and her shy demeanor was replaced by something more feral, more unsettling. With an almost manic gleam in her eyes, Zaia smiled, her tone childishly eager. "Can I play them? Can I crush them? Crush them!" she giggled, her excitement almost disturbing. Vin observed her briefly, unfazed by the sudden switch. He didnt mind if Zaia played a little roughafter all, that was part of her nature. But he knew the game was delicate, and one misstep could cost them. "You can play with them, Zaia," Vin said, a smirk tugging at his lips, "but dont foul them... or else there will be consequences." Zaias face immediately dropped, her pout turning her childlike demeanor almost comical. "Aww!!" she groaned, but despite the disappointment, her energy was still charged. Then, out of nowhere, Zeke Monroe, the teams Small Forward, spoke up, his voice roughly calm but carrying an underlying edge of confidence. "Not fouling them doesnt mean you cant crush them." Zaia blinked, clearly intrigued. "Hmm?" she hummed, trying to process Zekes words. Zeke, elaborated with a sly grin. "You can crush them and foul them without actually fouling them," he said, the tone of his voice suggesting a deeper, more dangerous approach. Zaias eyes lit up, now fully onboard with the idea. She nodded enthusiastically. "Ooooh, I get it now!" she said, her excitement returning full force. From across the court, Silas Korrin, the massive Center and the teams Paint Protector, furrowed his brow, clearly confused by the conversation. "The hell does that mean?" he asked, not entirely following. Dante Cruz, the sharp-eyed Power Forward, and the Vision Specialist of the team, just glanced over at Silas, keeping his cool as always. His eyes locked onto the court, seemingly lost in thought, not even bothering to respond. The rest of the team settled into their huddle, the tension thick. To be continue Chapter 73 - 60: White (16) Chapter 73: Chapter 60: White (16) 4-2 Timeout. The game had turned into a battle of willson one side, the cold, calculated Venganza players, and on the other, Ethan and his ragtag team, struggling to hold their ground. The scoreboard flashed 4-2 in favor of Venganza, and the whistle blew for a timeout. The six teenagers hustled to the sideline, sweat dripping, hearts pounding. Their breathing was heavy, but their minds were racing even faster. Louie Gee Davas wiped his face with his sleeve, his eyes flicking nervously to the other side of the court. The Venganza players stood with their backs straight, as though they hadnt even broken a sweat. The difference was stark, terrifying. Louie couldnt shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap they didnt even understand. Louie gritted "Im talented, and these guys are strong. How the fuck are they this good?" Ethan gritted his teeth and glanced at Louie. He didnt have much time to explain the full scope of what was happening, but he knew now was as good a time as any. Ethan said with serious gaze "Theyre not just strong. Theyre enhanced. These guys are on a different level. Theyve got a pill that makes them faster, strongerunpredictable. Thats how theyre dominating us." Louies expression was a mix of disbelief and frustration. He looked over at the Venganza players, his mind racing to process what Ethan had just said. Louie confused said "A pill?" Noah "Is this what youve been talking about, Ethan?" Ethan nodded, his jaw clenched. His heart pounded harder as the reality of their situation settled in. He had warned them, but even he hadnt anticipated how outclassed they would be by these enhanced opponents. Before he could respond, Lucas Graves, who had been eerily silent until now, spoke up. Lucas "What did you talk about? What is it?" Ethan glanced at Lucas, seeing the confusion written on his face. It wasnt just Lucas who was lost everyone else was too. Charlotte, still caught in the whirlwind of everything happening, was clearly overwhelmed. Charlotte "I dont understand any of this. Why is this... what the hell is going on?" The question hung in the air, unanswered for a moment. But before anyone could respond, Noah, his fists clenched in barely contained rage, spoke up. His voice was tight, controlled but laced with desperation. Noah "Ill tell you whats going on. My mother and brothertheyve been kidnapped. By a man named Greg." The mention of Greg made the air in the huddle thicken. Charlottes eyes widened, her confusion turning to alarm. Charlotte confused "Kidnapped? What do you mean kidnapped?" Noahs face was pale, his hands trembling with suppressed anger. He could feel the weight of his words press down on him as he explained. Noah gritted his teeth and holding back his anger saying "Gregs the one behind all of this. Hes using this game to keep us here. My mother, my brothertheyre both locked away somewhere. Hes holding them hostage, threatening to kill them if we dont win." Lucas frowned, stepping closer to Noah, trying to grasp the enormity of the situation. Hed heard of Greg in passing, but this was the first time he realized the full depth of the mans obsession. Charlotte stared at Noah, her eyes wide. The pieces were starting to fall into place, but the truth was more terrifying than she had imagined. She had only followed Lucas hereshe didnt know any of the backstory, didnt know who Greg was or why he was doing this. But there was no time to dwell on it. There was a game to be played, and the seconds were ticking down. "This is insane. Then... this isnt just a game." Ethans eyes darted to the clock. They had two minutes left before the first quarter ended, and the pressure of the situation was already starting to crush him. His heart was pounding in his chest, but there was no time for panic. He had to focus. They had to focus. "We can win. We have to win. Just follow my lead. Trust each other." The urgency in his voice cut through the tension in the huddle. It wasnt the time to waste words. They had a game to win, and their lives depended on it. Ethan "This is bigger than basketball. But right now, this is the only way out. We need to give it everything we have." Louies breath hitched as he nodded, determination creeping back into his features. Charlotte, though still confused, gave a subtle nod. Lucas shot a glance at Ethan, his expression hardening. Noah gritted his teeth and looked up at the court. "For my mom. For my brother," he muttered under his breath, his resolve solidifying. As the team gathered themselves, Lucass confusion couldnt be ignored anymore. He needed answers, and Ethan was the only one who could provide them. Lucas "Im still asking, what is this pill, Ethan?" He looked directly at Ethan, his eyes burning with curiosity. Ethan paused for a moment, a slight flicker of hesitation in his expression. He could tell Lucas was trying to piece it all together. The look on his facehe was desperate to understand, just like everyone else . Ethan thought: (Lucas... I knew you were confused. Curious. You took that pill, that was given to you by the old man, and thats how you gained the power of Absolute Mimicry... but I dont have time for this right now. Sorry, Lucas.) Before Ethan could voice his thoughts, Lucas spoke again, his voice soft but firm. Lucas "Ethan?" Ethan snapped back to reality. He opened his mouth to answer, but Whistle. The game was back on. The sound cut through the air like a blade. Time was running out. Ethan "Ill tell you after this quarter." Lucass face showed a mix of confused and understanding, but he nodded. Lucas "O-okay." And with that, the huddle broke apart. The game resumed, and the pressure mounted once more. Every second counted, and Ethan knew there would be no time for answers until the final whistle blew. But his promise to Lucas hung in the air, just like the tension on the court. They had to fight. They had to survive. And once the quarter ended, maybe thenjust maybetheyd have time for answers. But for now, it was all about staying in the game. For Noahs family. For their lives. The clock was ticking. .... The moment the whistle blew, the tension snapped into motion. As The Ordinary moved into position, Ethan had the ball. His hands moved instinctively, dribbling low and quick as he surveyed the court. Sweat dripped down his brow, but his eyes were clearsharp with determination. From the side, Lucas watched him closely, his mind whirling. Lucas thought (Pill... what does that mean? Did these people use a pill? Is it the same as the one the old man gave me?) His gaze shifted to the opposing teamVenganza. Five players. Each of them felt off. Strong. Dangerous. Unnatural. Lucas thought (These guys... theyre not normal. Theres something behind their strength. But if Ethans right... then maybe the pill) He shook his head suddenly, pushing the thoughts away. Now wasnt the time. Lucas thought (Focus, Lucas. Focus... We need to win this game. All those questionsset them aside for now.) The ball bounced rhythmically against the court, echoing like a countdown. The answers would come. But right now, it was time to fight. ....... 1:50 left in the first quarter. The scoreboard glowed faintly in the background, its red digits counting down like a ticking bomb. Every second mattered. Every movement counted. Ethan drove hard with the ball, breaking past the three-point line with precision and fury. His steps were sharp, refinedhis eyes, however, were sharper. They werent locked solely on the rimthey were dancing from player to player, scanning for gaps, cracks, and chances like a master chess player seeing ten moves ahead. Crossover. A quick stutter step, then he snapped the ball to his right with a flick of his wrist. The defender twitchedhalf a step left, baited by the fake. Ethan didnt wait. He exploded forward, his hips dropping low, shoulder angling in. A clean blow-by off the dribble. It wasnt just speedit was rhythm, calculation, and instinct. He was already slicing into the paint before the help defense even realized he was gone. From the corner, Louie raised a hand. "Im open!" he shouted. A laugh rang outmocking, unhinged, and disturbingly innocent. "No you arent!!" It was ZaiaKaias twisted alternate, dancing on the edge of madness as she mirrored Louies every step. She bounced lightly on her feet, eyes gleaming with glee, like a child playing tag in a warzone. Louie scowled. "Tsk..." He bit his lip, his eyes narrowing. Louie thought," (This girls a damn lunatic...I gotta come up with something... fast.)" Memories flashedhis streetball days, concrete courts, double-crosses, no rules, just creativity. The only way to break free of chaos... was to embrace it. While Ethan drove, the defense swarmed into place like synchronized shadows. Ethan, face-to-face with Vin Cruz, the iron-willed captain of Venganza, whose presence was like an immovable wall at the rim. Lucas, on the wing, guarded by Dante Cruz, Vins younger brothera sharp-eyed tactician, the Vision Specialist, who could read offensive sets before they formed. Charlotte, boxed in by Zeke Monroe, the smooth, athletic Small Forward with a poker face and punishing defense. Evan, dwarfed under the watchful gaze of Silas Korrin, the towering Center and ruthless enforcer of the paint. Louie clenched his fists. Louie thought "(Theyre locked in. Every one of us. These monsters arent just strong... theyre coordinated. Theyre fast. Too fast. If Ethan gets collapsed on... its over. Well lose momentum. Well lose control.)" He glanced at Zaia, who now hummed a tune to herself, crouched in a predators stance. Louie thought "(I need to shake her. No, I need to break her rhythm. Theres no spaceso Ill make some.)" He sucked in a breath. The ball was still in Ethans hands, but Louie knewthe window was closing. .. As Ethan took the risk. A sudden step-backjust enough space from Vin. His fingers snapped. The ball was airborne. A no-look, one-hand side flick that whipped past Vins outstretched hand and curved toward the right wing like a guided missile. Straight to Louie. Zaia lunged, eyes blazing with chaotic delight. "GOTCHAAAAAA!" But Louie wasnt there. He ghosted. Just as the ball came in, Louie dipped lowa reverse pivot off his plant foot, using Zaias momentum against her. She flew past him, hair whipping like a comets tail, missing him by inches. Louie caught the ball clean. Back to the rim. "(Street rules...)," he thought, mind snapping back to those concrete days under flickering lights and crooked rims. "(Time to go old school.)" He dribbled once, hardthen whipped the ball behind his back, spun around Zaia, and nutmegged a recovering Zeke, who tried to rotate over. Silence. Just feet pounding the floor. Breaths. Tension. Louie drove through the gap. Silas Korrin stepped ina towering figure, arms ready to swat anything. Louie didnt flinch. In mid-air, he twisted, double-pumping his fake. Silas bit on the shot. Too latethe ball left Louies hands. A bounce passsharp, lowthrough the gap. Right into Evans hands. Evan caught it, turned, and threw it down. SLAM. The sound of the dunk echoed in the cavernous space. Metal rattled. Dust shook loose from the ceiling. 4C3. 1:19 remaining. Noah stood up from the bench, eyes wide. "Lets go!" Ethan gave Louie a small nod. Vin narrowed his eyes, his arms crossed. "...So theyre not just talk." Zaia pouted and whispered to herself, "I missed... that was fun." Lucas looked over at Louie, then back at Ethan. "Is that a street style?" Ethan smirked slightly. "Youll see more." Charlotte stared at the court, gripping her arm. She leaned toward Lucas. "Theyre serious. These guys..." Lucas nodded slowly. "Yeah." To be continue Chapter 74 - 61: White (17) Chapter 74: Chapter 61: White (17) Monitor 6: A man in a gray blazer with sharp features leaned forward. He murmured with interest, his voice barely above a whisper. "Interesting... Theres someone at that level on Vorpal Basket? I thought only Lucas and Ethan were threats." He sat back, crossing one leg over the other, lips curling into a faint smirk. "I should keep an eye on that one. If he can do that under pressure, hes got more than instinct. Hes trained." In Monitor 8: A loud, unfiltered laugh rang out. "AHAHAHA! To think your experiment is getting outshined by these so-called ordinary humans you kept brushing off!" The man was in his early 40s, broad-shouldered and clad in a deep maroon suit with gold cufflinks. He spoke like a man whod seen war and now enjoyed chaos as comedy. "This is pure entertainment, Greg! You couldnt have scripted this better!" Highblood scowled from Monitor 9, but before she could retort, Gregs voice cut throughcalm, but with an edge. "These kids... theyre the talented ones. The ones my team faced. Theyre not just any street players." The man on Monitor 8 raised a brow. "Then maybe you should start calling them talented instead of ordinary, dont you think? HAHAHA!" Gregs lips curled, but he held his ground. His pride wouldnt let him back down. "I told you," He said, pacing in front of the screens now, "I told all of you from the startI would prove something." He turned to the monitor bank, eyes sharp, voice slicing clean through the laughter. "These so-called talents? Theyre just ordinary... the same as any untalented trash" He tapped the glass showing his enhanced players. "if the untalented have my pill." Silence followed. A heavy silence. Greg looked at the silent faces on the monitors, his gaze piercing through each of them, his confidence unwavering even as the air grew heavy with tension. He broke the silence with a cold, calculated statement. "They will win against the talented players." His words hung in the air like a declaration, a challenge thrown into the midst of doubt. The camera angles flickered slightly as the higher-ups processed his bold claim. .... 1:19 remaining C First Quarter. Tie Game: 4C3 The ball bounced back to the Venganza side. Silas Korrin picked it up and passed it to their point guardVin Cruz, the calm, calculating leader with eyes like stormclouds. As they gathered in a quick formation near half-court, Zeke Monroe broke the silence. "Theyre really good... at this rate..." he said, his voice tight, sweat trickling down his jaw. Vin didnt answer at first. He reached into his waistbandand pulled out a small silver pill. A flick of light hit it. Metallic. Unnatural. "You dont need to worry," Vin said coldly, his voice unwavering as he held it up. Dante Cruz, the Vision Specialist and Vins younger brother, looked shocked. "Brother... this one... this isnt the same as the last." Vin gave a small smirk. "Its stronger. This one was made just for us. With thiswell go beyond anything they can imagine." Silas Korrin, towering and silent for most of the game, frowned. "But... what if theres a side effect? Last time, we felt pain after it wore off." Vins eyes narrowed. "You dont need to worry." He stepped forward into their loose huddle. "Remember why we did this." The pause was heavy. Kaia Volt, who had been unusually quiether usual chaotic grin gonelooked down, lips pursed. Dante scratched the back of his neck, voice low. "Lets do this, guys. As Brother said... we became experiments for a reason. Because were" "Orphans." Silas finished. His deep voice echoed slightly in the empty court. He glanced up at the flickering overhead lights, shadows moving across his sharp features. Vin nodded. "Our parents died. Our blood relatives didnt want us. They cast us aside like trash. But we all found one thing we loved" "Basketball," Kaia said quietly, her voice almost childlike. Vin stepped back, eyes locked on the enemy team. "We didnt have the talent. We were weak. But then Sir Greg gave us this chanceto rewrite our fates. He gave us these pills, this strength." He crushed the pill between his fingers. A faint blue light shimmered for a second before vanishing. Vin looked at his teammateshis brothers and sister in arms. "Now well show them. Why were still here. Why we play." ... After they take the pill on the court The atmosphere... shifted. It was subtle at first. Like a cold draft in a sealed room. But then... Kaias laugh broke the silence. Not loud. Not wild. Just soft... and strange. She turned her head to the side like a doll, her eyes wide with a flicker of something off. Zekes muscles tensed. His movements, which had been reactive and human, now had a calculated stiffnesslike a machine learning mid-motion. His stance dropped lower. His eyessharpened. Dante Cruz exhaled slowly, then blinked. Once. Twice. And suddenly... his gaze became cold. Distant. As if he wasnt seeing the court anymorebut possibilities. Probabilities. Paths. Silas let out a slow breathhis back straightening, neck cracking with an audible pop. The ground beneath him seemed smaller. His presence... heavier. And then Vin. He just stood there. Still. Calm. And yet, Ethan felt it. He felt it like a wave crashing into the air around himan invisible force. Pressure. Ethans eyes narrowed. (No... They took something. Is it Another pill?.) He gripped the ball tighter, sweat dripping from his temple. Louie noticed it too. His instincts from the street courts kicked in. Something was wrong. This wasnt just adrenaline or hypethis was power. Artificial. Raw. Twisted. Charlotte, still adjusting to the pace of the game, stepped closer to Ethan. "Something feels wrong..." she whispered, more to herself than anyone. Lucas, trying to suppress the shiver down his spine, nodded slightly. (The old man... the pill I took... is this the same? Are they the same as me?) Only Noah, sitting alone on the bench, knew exactly what this meant. He stood. His fists clenched. "They..." he said quietly, voice filled with dread. "Greg... you bastard. You pushed them too far." Back on the court, Vin took a single dribble. It echoed. Not loud. But with finality. Vin Cruz raised his eyes toward Ethan. "Lets see how long your will lasts," he said softly. And then, Venganza moved. All five of themsimultaneously. Not just in sync. In perfect, inhuman coordination. Like theyd rehearsed this play a thousand times. Like they could feel each others thoughts. Like something inside them had clicked into place. Ethans eyes widened. "Shit," he muttered. (This... isnt just basketball anymore.) ... Boom. Boom. Boom. The echo of footsteps wasnt normal anymore. It was heavier. Rhythmic. Calculated. (Theyre faster... more precise... this isnt the same team I was just up against seconds ago.) Ethan gritted his teeth, eyes scanning the court like a hawk. Vin didnt need to say anything now. His presence was screaming. His dribble? It was like thunder in a tunnel. (Hes baiting me.) Ethan took a breath. Focus. Focus, dammit. Youve seen this. Youve read plays. You know how to break through pressure. Vins body moved with something different now. Not just speedbut refinement, like someone had removed the limiter from his instincts. Like the court bent slightly around him. Ethan backed up slightly, his knees bent, eyes locked on Vin. "Watch him," he called out. "They took something. Hes not the same." Vin dribbled up, slowcalculated. He didnt rush. He didnt need to. Zeke cut left, dragging Charlotte with him. Dante motioned to the elbow, setting a moving screen on Lucas. Kaia darted into the corner she then turned into Zaiaher smile became disturbingly wide. And Silas? He planted in the post like a damn boulder. (Theyre running a triangle... nosomething faster. Modified. Sharper. Coordinated.) Vin passed it to Dante, who barely lookedthen immediately lobbed it up To Kaia. She caught it mid-air. Turned. And shot from the corner. No hesitation. Nothing but net. Venganza was now in the lead. Ethan clenched his fists. (That wasnt just good execution. That was perfect timing. Perfect movement. Theyre not reading us anymoretheyre anticipating us. Like theyre always one second ahead.) He glanced at the others. Lucass eyes widened. Charlotte looked stunned. Even Louies jaw clenched. Ethan took a step toward the inbound. "This isnt just talent," he muttered. (Its the pill. It has to be. Their presence, their awareness, even their strengthits all enhanced. Artificially.) "Ethan!" Lucas called. Ethan snapped out of itlooked to his teammate. (Right. This isnt over. They scored, but thats not the end.) He caught the inbound from Evan. Palmed the ball. Took a breath. (Alright Ethan...Were still in this. No matter what they took, they bleed like anyone else. We just need to fight smarter.) He looked at Vin again. Their eyes locked across the court. Vin smiled. "Lets see if you can keep up now." .. Ethan stood at the baseline, gripping the ball tightly for the inbound. Across from him stood Lucas, already signaling for the pass, guarded loosely by Vin Cruzbut Ethan could feel it. Vin wasnt relaxed. He was baiting. Waiting. Ethans eyes darted across the courtLouie on the left wing, Evan near half court, Charlotte curling off a slow screenbut Lucas was closest. "Heads up," Ethan muttered, and bounced the ball hard to Lucas. The moment it touched his fingers Vin pounced. Not a second late. Not a step wasted. SLAP! The ball was gone before Lucas could even gather it. "What the?!" Vin scooped it in one clean motion, his body already twisting into the lane. No dribble wasted. Just a straight line to the basket. Ethan tried to cut him off, sprinting back, but Vin had the angle, the speed, and the confidence. Layup. Clean. The ball kissed the glass and dropped through. Score: 6 C 3 (Venganza leads by 3 points now.) Lucas stood frozen at the top of the key, arms still in catching form, staring at the empty air where the ball used to be. Ethan clenched his jaw. (Vin didnt just steal that... he predicted it. Lucass rhythm, my timing....its like he already knew.) He jogged back, patting Lucas on the shoulder as they regrouped. Lucas whispered, "He was too fast. I couldnt even move..." Ethan nodded, thoughts racing. (shit... they became even more troublesome) Charlotte stepped in, voice calm but sharp. "He read your rhythm." They turned to her. "What do you mean read?" Lucas asked. Charlotte crossed her arms, eyes locked on Vin. "Lucas, you telegraphed it. You always shift your right foot before you catch, Ethans pass was sharp, But... Vins seems like using vision reading, like Dante. Theyre syncing." Lucas furrowed his brow. "Vision reading? What does that even mean?" Charlotte didnt flinch. Her tone was low, fastfocused. "Its when a player reads not just one person but everyones positions, tendencies, and tiny muscle movements. A twitch. A breath. A shift in weight. They process it in real time, almost like instinct. And its not just seeing, its understanding whats coming next." Lucass eyes narrowed. "Like predictive movement?" Charlotte nodded. "Exactly. Its like they already watched the play five seconds before it happened." Evan muttered, "Thats insane... how would you even know that?" Charlottes gaze didnt leave Vin. "Because thats how I learned to survive in my own game. Lucas said, with understanding "Sis..." Ethan stared at Charlotte "(Hmm... Vision Reading huh? .... It looks like she was right...)" Across the court, Vin grinned wide, jogging backward into position, holding up one finger with a smirk. Zaia laughed from the side, spinning playfully on her heels. Dante adjusted his headband. Silas cracked his neck. Zeke nodded, already locking onto Charlotte again. Louie muttered, "We cant keep playing like this..." Ethan exhaled slowly. "Then we change the pace." He glanced at the clock. 0:44 remaining. First quarter. Still time. But the war had begun. To be continue Chapter 75 - 62: White (18) Chapter 75: Chapter 62: White (18) Score: 6-3 Time: 0:20 seconds left C 1st Quarter Ethan glanced at the scoreboard. 6-3. Not ideal, but it wasnt panic timeyet. "(Still the first quarter...) (Theres time to figure out their weaknesses. We just need to hold onkeep learning.)" His eyes shifted to Lucas, who was dribbling near the top of the key, eyes flicking between his defender and the shot clock. Kaiaor rather, her other self, Zaiawas crouched low in front of Lucas, wild grin spread across her face, body practically vibrating with chaotic energy. "Lets play, mister!!" Zaia giggled, her voice bouncing with manic joy. Lucas blinked. "(Mister? Im literally 14...)" he thought, exasperated. From the wing, Charlotte stifled a laugh, clearly having heard it too. Lucas shot her a half-glare, half-sighthen flipped a switch in his mind. His face grew serious. There was only one way to beat this overwhelming speed now that Zaia had taken the second pill. His usual tricks, his Iverson-style crossovers, hesitation pulls, even euro-steps were being read too easily. "(I need something unpredictable... something she wont see coming...)" He searched his mental archive of copied moves. Then A flash of white. A court in Sacramento. A player dancing on the hardwood with a streetballers soul and a magicians hands. Jason Williams. "White Chocolate." A grin crept across Lucass face. "(You... Yeah. Youll work.)" He invoked Absolute Mimicry. And in a heartbeat...he became fluid. Not just a player. Not just a shooter. He became entertainment. Flash. Deception. Lucas dropped his hips low, crossover left. Zaia lunged. Crossover back. Zaia twitched but she didnt bite. Then Lucas spun, a sharp, streetball-style rotation, fast and tight. His foot scraped the court as he pivoted out of the spinZaia scrambled to keep up. Then came the dish. Just as Zaia braced for a shot or drive, Lucas whipped his head left, but his hand bounced the ball right. A no-look bounce pass slid through two defenders legs, rolling like it was guided by fate itself. The ball landed clean in Charlottes hands, who had slipped behind Zekes blind spot unnoticed. Charlotte blinked, surprised but only for a moment. She caught the ball, took one step, and released a high-arcing shot from the elbow. Swish. 6-4. Lucas exhaled, his body still tingling from the mimicry. Zaias eyes widened, her jaw slightly open in stunned silence. Charlotte turned to him, flashing a rare grin. "Nice pass, mister." Lucas smirked back. "Thanks, maam." The buzzer rangend of the first quarter. But the spark had been lit. ... Monitor 6: A man in a gray blazer, sharp features accentuated by the soft glow of the screen, leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he watched the screen. "Did that guy... just use that move?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief. Before he could get a confirmation, the old man from Monitor 1 spoke up. "He used Jason..." Monitor 8 quickly interrupted, cutting him off with urgency in his tone. "That was White Chocolates move! Man, back then... White Chocolate hit the Spurs with that move like it was straight out of a movie. He dribbled up, fooled Avery Johnson with a fake, then spun so smooth it looked like slow motion. Just when the defender stepped up, he didnt shoot, he threw a no-look bounce pass right to Chris Webber under the basket. No eye contact, no hesitation. The whole defense froze. Man... it was like watching a scene in a basketball movie. It wasnt just a pass. It was cinema." The man on Monitor 8 chuckled in awe as he leaned back in his chair "And this guy used that awesome move. Damn!" His words were full of curiosity and respect, the type of tone reserved only for moments that transcended the game and became legendary. Monitor 4s voice cut through the tense silence, the question hanging in the air like a challenge. "Now what would your team do, Greg...?" Greg Tarrow gritted his teeth, his eyes still locked on the big screen where Ethan Albarado and Lucas Graves were the focus of the action. The intensity in his gaze was palpable, the strain of the moment evident as he responded. "Dont underestimate my team. Theyre just shocked by what that kid pulled off, but now that theyve seen it, theyll adjust. They can guard him any time now." His words were laced with a cold confidence, a reminder of his control over the situation. His fingers tightened around the armrest, his eyes narrowing as he watched his team. Despite the surprise from White Chocolates move, he knew his players wouldnt back down. They were Afterall his masterpiece Monitor 2 remained eerily quiet; his eyes hidden behind a mask that only added to the mystery surrounding him. His platinum blonde hair, contrasting with the dark environment, was the only noticeable feature that broke the monotony of the dim-lit room. He leaned in closer to the screen, his gaze fixed on Ethan Albarado and Lucas Graves, the two standout players of the opposing team. He didnt speak, but his presence alone felt like it was weighing heavily on the room. The mask he wore obscured any hint of emotion, but his watchful eyes told a different story. He wasnt just observing the game; he was calculating, analyzing every movement of the players on the court. Ethan, with his explosive drive and strategic thinking, and Lucas, now showing signs of adapting to the pressure with his remarkable mimicry abilitiesthese were the ones to watch. He pressed a button on the side of his chair, zooming in on Ethan and Lucas, the bright lights reflecting off his mask. A subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he spoke softly, almost to himself. "Interesting...." Greg, still focused on the game, heard the words and knew they werent just idle thoughts. He turned his gaze briefly toward Monitor 2, but said nothing, his mind already plotting how to contain the surprise the young players had unleashed. The entire room fell into a tense, focused silence. The players on the court were preparing for the next phase of the game, and Gregs team was adjusting accordingly. The outcome was still in flux, but the stakes were higher than ever. In the monitor room, every eye was fixed on the screen, watching as the game, and the players fates, began to unfold further. .... Meanwhile, on the court 2ND Quarter Vin Cruz dribbled up with a casual rhythm, his expression unreadable, eyes scanning. He looked at Lucas Graves. "Lucas Graves..." Vins thoughts were cool, but biting. "A copycat. So, what if youre talented? Im still the best on this court." Then, Vins eyes shifted to Ethan Albarado. In a split second, he dropped into a stance and exploded forwarda sudden burst of speed made possible by the pills enhancement coursing through his body. Ethan reacted fastfeet sliding, arms out, eyes sharp. But even with his instincts, Vins acceleration was on another level. His movements blurred at the edges. Ethans positioning was good, but not enough. Vin veered past him, brushing shoulders before flicking a no-look bounce pass toward his brotherDante Cruz. ... Dante caught the ball cleanly. His face was calm, but intense. His sharp eyes locked onto Louie, who had squared up, determined. "Youre not gonna get past me," Louie warned. Dante smirked faintly. "Well see." He hit a light crossover, keeping the ball lowthen threw in a quick shoulder feint to the left. Louie reacted, taking a step to cut it off. But it was a bait. Dante rotated back, hit a left-right side dribble combo, a deceptive rhythm that pulled Louies feet just slightly off angle. "Shit!" Louie muttered, realizing he fell for the fake. Dante saw the gapand took it. He slashed into the paint. ..... At the same time, Evan Cooper was locked in a physical struggle with Silas Korrin, the Venganza Center, a towering wall of power under the rim. Dante glanced at Silas, and gave a subtle nod. Evan noticed ithis instincts firing. "Not on my watch!" Evan shouted, springing away from Silas to help. But that was exactly what they wanted. Louie lunged back, trying to collapse into the lane. "Tsk!!" he growled, too late. Dante planted his foot, rose up But it wasnt a shot. Mid-air, he twisted and zipped a one-handed dish toward the rim. Silas caught it mid-jump, both hands up. And then BOOM. A thunderous dunk. The rim shook. The court echoed. Evan was still in the air, inches awayjust late. Silas landed, eyes steely. Dante didnt celebratehe just turned, walking away like it was routine. Vin, standing at half-court, smirked. "No one will beat us Venganza" Charlotte glanced up at the scoreboard, then back at Ethan. She shook her head. ("How did they get so strong? What Ethan said about pills... I still cant figure it out. If those pills make them betterwhats the cost? What are the side effects?") She clenched her fists. "Focus, Charlotte. The games in front of you." .... 7C4. Three minutes left in the second quarter. As Ethan inbounded quickly to Evan, who took the ball and pushed up the court. He dribbled with urgency, eyes narrowing. ("I have to do something too. I cant just watch.") But Venganza was already moving like theyd seen it coming. Dante shiftedno hesitation. He intercepted the moment Evan hesitated, stepping into the lane like it was drawn for him. A single pass to the wing. Kaia Volt skipped to the corner like a child playing hopscotch. But her eyes... they flickered. That wasnt Kaia anymore. "Yay! My turn!" Zaia chirped, her voice high and sing-song as she caught a pass from Dante Cruz. She spun like a ballerina, danced behind the backboard, then flipped the ball over her head. Nothing but net. "Three... Yay!!" As she dances like a kid Zaia pranced backward on defense, grinning wide like shed won recess. Ethan caught the inbound pass from Lucas, barely giving the ball time to breathe. He jogged up the court, jaw clenched tight. ("How can I beat them... Think Ethan...") He crossed half-court, surveyingDante was shadowing Louie tight at the top. The defense was shifting, hungry. Ethan slashed toward the wing, dribbling low and fast. Kaia lungedhe slipped past. Two defenders rotatedZeke and Silas converging to trap. Zip! A no-look bounce pass whipped through the seamthreading the needle. Straight into Louies hands on the opposite wing. Louie caught it mid-spin, did a pump fake, then drove hard left. Silas Korrin rotated fast, his wide frame already sealing the paint. Louie didnt flinch. "Old school," he muttered. Up-and-under. The move was smooth, deliberate. He kissed it off the glass. The ball circledin. 9C5. .... Silas grabbed the ball from the net and immediately inbounded to Zeke Monroe, already stepping into motion near the baseline. No hesitation. Like theyd practiced the reaction a thousand times. Zeke faked right, then exploded left. Lucas mirrored it perfectlystep for stephis shoes squeaking as he cut across the court. But before he could celebrate the read, Dante Cruz was already there, switching before Zeke even finished the move. .... Meanwhile Evan Cooper, breathing hard, stayed glued to Silas in the paint. He couldnt stop him. He knew that. But he refused to give up position. Silas Korrin planted himself deep in the post like a stone pillar. Evan Cooper, chest heaving, clung to him with every ounce of strength he had left. Thud! An elbow slammed into Evans ribsclean, vicious, and unnoticed by the ref. Evan winced but didnt fall. He stayed on his feet, arms locked in front of Silas like a worn-out bouncer refusing to get shoved aside. Silas glanced down, voice low and rough like gravel. "Still standing?" Evan didnt flinch. "Just means Im doing my job." ... Back to Zeke as he dished the ball off with a slick handoffalmost like a baton in a relayinto Zaias hands. Lucas tried to adjust, cutting across to contest "Tag! Youre it!" Zaia chirped, spinning with childlike glee. She dribbled once, then bounced it through her legs, disappearing behind Lucas in a blur of motion. Lucas whipped aroundtoo late. Zaia was already leaping sideways behind the arc, flicking the shot overhead like it was part of a game. Splash. Swish. 11C5. Another two-pointer. .... .... As the moment passed in a flash. Ethan tore up the court, eyes scanning, reading. He pointed for a screen. Charlotte sprinted up from the wing, her sneakers squeaking as she planted her feet. But ZaiaKaias unhinged, gleeful alter egowas already bouncing in anticipation, almost giggling at the setup like it was part of a game. Charlotte set the pickbut slipped, her heel sliding just slightly. A heartbeat of imbalance. Zaia lunged to intercept. But Ethan didnt panic. He threw a no-look, behind-the-back pass, a flash of control, just as Charlotte steadied herself. The ball hit her hands cleanly. Charlotte pumped. Zaia bitlunging past her like a cat chasing a string. Charlotte pivoted, saw the trap tightening again, and made a snap decisionkick-out. She fired it back to Ethan, who had drifted to the corner pocket. Ethan caught it mid-stride. From the arc Set. For Three. Release. The arc was clean, the spin perfect. Bang! The ball snapped through the net. The sound echoed like a gunshot. .... 11C7. Meanwhile, Lucass eyes locked on Zeke Monroe. Zeke had been smooth, calculating, reading him like a puzzle piece. But Lucas had been paying attention too. Watching every twitch, every shift of weight. He clenched his fists. "(Lets do this...)" Zeke had the ball just past half-court, signaling a motion. He dropped into his stance, ready to drive. But Lucas didnt wait. He moved first. Not reacting. Anticipating. He mirrored Zekes steps perfectly: the slight lean to the right, the fake hesitation dribble, the sudden pivot. Zeke blinked. Just for a fraction of a secondjust enough to show surprise. ("This shit...") Lucas didnt smile. He was locked inshoulders squared, eyes sharp, breathing steady. No trash talk. No flair. Just focus. Across from him, Zeke Monroe narrowed his eyes. The swagger was still there, but now it was laced with something colder. Frustration. "Fuck," Zeke muttered, barely above a whisper. Lucas didnt flinch. His eyes never left Zekes movement. To be continue Chapter 76 - 63: White (19) Chapter 76: Chapter 63: White (19) Zeke Monroe reset his dribble, this time with a bit more forcehis knuckles flexing as the ball snapped against the hardwood. His eyes danced across Lucass frame, searching for any hitch, any flinch, any tell. Nothing. Lucas was still. Balanced. Patient. Like he knew what Zeke would do next. Zeke huffed through his nose. "I admit you are good, tsk" His voice was low, almost impressedbut edged with irritation. Then he burst lefta move honed in street battles and silent courts like this one. Lucas matched it. Instantly. Pivot right. Zeke tried to throw him off with a sharp Eurostep into a half-spin. Lucas didnt reacthe moved. Before the shift even completed, he was already there, his feet mirrored, body balanced. Zeke tried to fade back But Lucas read it. Poke. The ball popped free, bouncing once. Lucas lunged low and snatched it clean, dragging it in with both hands like it was life or death. Silence. No gasps. No noise. Except Charlottes voice from the far side. "Lets go, Lucas!" she shouted, not in panic, but sharp, clipped focus. She was already moving into the break. Ethan took off up the sideline, sprinting. Louie signaled from the opposite wing. Evan trailed the middle, reading the rotation. Lucas didnt hesitate. He darted up the courthis yellow eyes sharp. A glance to Charlotte, who cut across mid-court. Zeke chased behind, close. Lucas dropped a no-look bounce pass between his legsthe kind that would make White Chocolate proud. Charlotte caught it in stride. Two steps. Pull-up jumper from the elbow. Splash. Score: 11C8. Still no crowd to cheer. Just the sharp sound of the net snapping, the bounce of the ball, and Charlottes breath as she landed and turned back, cool and collected. "Next time, Zeke," she said softly, brushing past him on the way back to defense. Zeke froze for a moment. Then turned. Vin was already calling the play from backcourt. Silas grabbed the ball to inbound. Ethan looked at them both and thought, ("Alright... I still need time.") .... Meanwhile Thunderhawks vs Vorpal Basket The Thunderhawks looked... confused. Izzy glanced at Eva. "Theyre running weird sets. Whos coaching this now? I thought they were headless chickens." Eva didnt answer. Her eyes narrowed as she tracked Coonie calling out another signal. "Ghost Swing." It wasnt even a real play Fred had ever approved. This was Ethans hand-me-down genius disguised passes, unpredictable positioning, chaos with purpose. And it was working. Coonie jabbed left, then passed it behind his back to Josh, who was trailing up the wing. Josh faked a shot, drew two defenders, and immediately kicked to Kai in the opposite corner. Wide open. Bang. Vorpal 31 C Thunderhawks 30. Coach Fred actually dropped his clipboard this time. "What... what is this? Who TAUGHT them that?!" Jeremy looked smug. "Who else but Ethan" .... Meanwhile back to underground game 1:07 left in the second quarter. Score: 11C8. Venganza ball. The air was tight. The kind of tension you dont breathe throughyou feel it pressing on your ribs. Ethan stood at the top of the key, sweat trickling down his cheek as he watched Vin Cruz dribble the ball with casual precision. The leader of VenganzaDantes older brothermoved like water, all smooth flow and quiet control. Nothing about him screamed dominance, but it was there. In his presence. In the way he commanded without speaking. (Theyre not just faster. They move like they know where well go. Is it instinct? Memory? No... its familiarity. Trust.) Ethans mind kicked into overdrive. "(System open shop cards)" "Initiating..." He could feel the HUD in his mind flashing softly. He blinked, focused. [Basketball Power System] Activated... User: Ethan Albarado Shop Points (SP): 3000 UP: 0 (Used) Ethans finger twitched near his imaginary menu as if he could physically feel the urge to spend. But he didnt. Not yet. Updated Shop Cards Available: Speed Boost Card (+2 Speed for 5 minutes) C 200 SP Shooting Accuracy Card (+3 Shooting Accuracy for 5 minutes) C 200 SP Team Synergy Card (All teammates gain +1 to all attributes for 10 minutes) C 300 SP Defense Coordinator Card (Team defense +2 for 10 minutes) C 300 SP Clarity Card (Slows perception of time slightly, enhances decision making for 60 seconds) C 400 SP Flow Trigger Card (Unlocks users rhythm and boosts reaction speed +3 temporarily) for 2 minutes C 500 SP Etc... "Hmm..." Too many tempting options. Speed Boost? Too short. Team Synergy? Big lift, but costly. Instinct Trigger? Effective, but draining. (No. Not yet. I cant blow it all here. Theres two quarters left. This isnt the right timeFor now I need to analyze more.) He minimized the HUD and stepped up. ... Back on the court, Vin passed off to Kaia Volt, who grinned brightlytoo brightly. But that wasnt Kaia anymore. That was Zaiaher childlike alternate personality. She dribbled with glee, spinning in circles before darting past Charlotte with a sudden burst of speed. "Whee! Catch me if you can!" "(Her footworks erratic... but deliberate. Like shes playing at basketball.)" Ethan analyzed. "(Unpredictable. Thats her weapon.)" Zaia lobbed it inside. Dante didnt even look. He just knew where Silas was. Boom. Silas caught it mid-step and powered through Evan Cooper again. Elbow. Shoulder. No whistle. Layup. 12C8. Ethan gritted his teeth, jogging the ball up the court, but his mind was racing. "(Not yet....)" .... Charlotte stood at the baseline, ball in hand. She locked eyes with Ethan. He gave a subtle nod. Cutting sharply in front of her, he took the inbound with both hands and began dribbling up the court, slow and measured. The underground court felt tight. Every sound was louder. Every step sharper. Zaia, giggled from the top of the key. She bounced on her heels like a kid in recess. "Whee~ Lets play again!" Ethans eyes never left her. (Her movements are scattered... but calculated. Shes baiting. Testing where Ill commit.) He crossed over to the left. Zaia shifted immediately, light on her toes. He went right. Zaia hopped into place again, almost too early. (They anticipate based on each others positioning. Theyve done this a thousand times. Theyre not guessing... Hmmm) Charlotte sprinted up from the corner, suddenly crossing behind Ethans right. Dante took a step toward her. Zaia followedbiting too early. But it was a slip screen. Charlotte faked the pick and darted away just as Zaia committed. Ethan took one step forward, sold the drive, then whipped a bounce pass behind his backaround Dantes outstretched arm. Charlotte caught it in motion on the left wing. Zeke rotated over fastarms up. Pump fake. Zeke flinched, just enough. Charlotte didnt shoot. Instead, she spun lightly on her heel and kicked the ball out to the cornerwhere Lucas stood, knees bent, ready. Lucas didnt waste time. He fired the three. The ball soared. Arc clean. Perfect rotation. (Trust the shot.) Ethan thought, still just crossing the top of the key. Swish. 12C10. No cheers. No crowd. Just the soft whip of the net and the sound of sneakers scuffing the concrete. Ethan exhaled slowly, jogging back. Then glanced at the Venganza formation as Silas took the ball from the net and passed it to Vin Cruz. (I cant waste my Shop Points yet. Not until I understand their structure completely... This is still information gathering.) As Vin jogged it up the court, Lucas ran next to Ethan and whispered low. "Evan... I think theyre running a mirrored triangle off the pivot." Ethan nodded. "Yeah, thats what I think too... Hmm." They both turned to face the oncoming wave. (Not yet. Just a little more. Keep analyzing...) .... Score: 13C10 Time Left: 40.0 seconds Possession: Venganza The underground gym echoed only with breath and bounce. No crowd, no cheersjust tension. Vin Cruz dribbled past half-court, eyes calm, posture loose. He glanced to his right. "Daniel. Curtain." Daniel nodded. One simple word was enough. "Got you." Silas stepped out high. Dante pointed once. Zeke circled aroundthen reversed direction last second. Lucas blinked. "Wait" he muttered. Zeke snapped toward the wing. Vin hit him with a bullet pass. Lucas chased, arm extendedbut Zeke didnt shoot. "Hes baiting you," Ethan warned, too late. Zeke pivoted, no-looked it back to Vin, now floating top of the arc. Evan rotatedbut Vin was already in motion. "This ones for the silence," he whispered, smooth release. Splash. 15C10. Charlotte tossed the ball in quick to Ethanbut Venganza wasnt backing off. "Go. Trap early," Vin ordered. His voice was low, calmdeadly. Zaia and Daniel pounced at Ethan at half-court. Their movement wasnt wildit was synced. "Clocks still running, Ethan," Zaia giggled. "Faster~!" Ethan spun outbarelyand tossed to Charlotte. But she hesitatedKaia (or was it Zaia?) danced in front of her like it was recess. Daniel leapttip. Zaia caught the loose ball mid-air and twirled once before slinging it forward. "Go, Vin!" Vin caught it on the run, zipped a behind-the-back pass toward Dante. Dante gathered. One dribble. Launched. Boom. Dunk. 17C10. Time Left: 23.4 seconds Lucas jogged back, exhaling sharp. "Damn it... that tempos insane." Ethan was already checking his HUD. [Basketball System] Defense Coordinator Card (Team defense +2 for 10 minutes) C 300 SP Clarity Card (Slows perception of time slightly, enhances decision making for 60 seconds) C 400 SP Flow Trigger Card (Unlocks users rhythm and boosts reaction speed +3 temporarily) for 2 minutes C 500 SP (Their flowits not just strategy. Its trust. They dont doubt each other. That makes their movement twice as fastbecause theres no hesitation.) (If I break that trust, even for a second... I create space. But to do thatI need to see clearer, and move cleaner. Clarity + Flow Trigger. Thats the combo.) He minimized the HUD. ..... Charlotte inbounds again. Ethan brings it up. Venganza waitsbut the pressures invisible. No full-court press. No flashy stance. Just eyes. Watching. "Hes watching feet now," Ethan muttered, eyeing Dante. "Hes counting steps." Lucas came around a stagger screenDante disrupted it. Zeke intercepted the path. Charlotte flared leftZaia floated right with her. Louie tried to screenbumped Daniel, but Daniel held ground. No foul. Nothing soft. "Clock, Ethan!" Evan barked. 7.4 seconds. Ethan took the handoff, drove rightDaniel cut it. Spun leftZaia switched instantly. Kickback to Lucas. 3.2 seconds. Lucas jumped. Zeke leaped with him. Contested fadeaway. Miss. Silas jumped, yanked the rebound. Elbow-high. Buzzer. End of 2nd Quarter. Score: Venganza 17 C Ordinary 10 As Venganza jogged to their bench area, Vin tossed the ball casually to the ref, wiping sweat from his chin. "Same look," he told his teammates. "Theyre stuck in a rhythm loop. Dont let em improvise." Daniel sat, sipping water. "Brother... I think Ethan Albarado that guy... he um got something... the way hes reading us." Vin nodded, calm. "Dont worry... Hes not that big of a deal." "He thinks too much thats his weakness." Zaia swirled her bottle like a wand. "Let me play more~ Theyre fun when they panic." Zeke chuckled softly. "We are the best hahaahhah." .... Meanwhile Vorpals Bench Ethan sat at the edge of the bench, arms on his knees, breathing steadybut fast. The sweat in his hair dripped like clock ticks. The HUD hovered faintly in his mind. Ethans mind buzzed with the weight of the decision, his focus narrowing like a camera lens. He was deep in the system now, eyes flickering slightly as his thoughts merged with the HUD. The only thing that mattered was timing. They were outmatched in too many ways, but this... this could tilt the balance. His teammates were worn, but still focused. Venganza had already gained the rhythm, and they were comfortable. Too comfortable. "I need to start disrupting their timing... theyre too synced." He felt the pulse of his own heartbeat, the rhythm of the game starting to sync up with his mind. This was the window. He just had to act before the game closed it completely. As his fingers twitched, hovering over the two cards in his mental shop. Clarity Card (400 SP) Slows perception of time, boosts decision-making for 60 seconds. Flow Trigger Card (500 SP) Boosts reaction speed by +3, unlocks rhythm for 2 minutes. Total: 900 SP Together, those two cards would cost him 900 SP, leaving him with 2100 SP. A solid chunk of his pointsenough to make a big impact. But would it be enough? "(Worth it?)" Ethan thought, mentally running through the possibilities. The Clarity Card would give him the edge for a brief period, but it only lasted for 60 seconds. That might be enough to get him to the right spot for a key pass or shot, but it wouldnt change the flow of the game entirely. The Flow Trigger Card, however, had the potential to completely change how he movedboosting his reaction speed and giving him a rhythm to work with for two full minutes. It could give him the edge he needed to keep up with the Venganza players fast movements, their quick reads of the game. Two minutes... That was almost a full quarter of momentum. Charlotte, still seething from the frustration of the second quarter, crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Ethan, who sat motionless, eyes locked onto the court. "Ethan, you good?" she asked, her voice tight, low, and clipped with tension. Ethan didnt respond. His eyes were distant, scanning the hardwood with an intensity that made it seem like he wasnt just watching a gamehe was reading a code. The weight of a hundred calculations swirled behind his quiet gaze. Every pass, every step, every shift of Venganzas defenseit was all forming a pattern. Lucas leaned forward, panting as he wiped sweat from his forehead, legs slightly trembling from the relentless pressure of the game. "Ethan?" he tried again, waving a hand in front of his teammates face. "Yo, we still here, man?" Ethan blinked. Not like someone waking up from sleepbut like someone locking a piece of a puzzle into place. His eyes finally moved, glancing to Lucas. He didnt look tired. He looked... sharp. "Let me think..." Ethan said quietly. But his voice held a new weight to it. Not hesitationfocus. Ethan then activated the Flow Trigger Card and the Clarity Card, willing the system to surge through him. And his teammates looked at each other, unsure what was going through his head. They couldnt see the HUD. Couldnt feel the way his eyes tingled slightly as the system processed the double card activation. They just thought he was strategizing. "Hes plotting something," Louie muttered to Evan. "Better be good," Evan replied, arms crossed. "We dont have time for another silent epiphany. Venganzas cooking." Charlotte turned to them, still staring at Ethan like she was trying to will an answer out of him. "Hes not the type to just freeze. Give him a sec." "(Its time to execute my plan.)" Ethan thought firmly, making up his mind. [Card Activated] [Card Activation: Flow Trigger & Clarity Cards] Speed Boost Activated Decision-Making Enhanced Ethan felt a burst of energy flood his system, a sudden sharpness in his senses. The world slowed down for a moment, every detail standing out with clarity. He could feel his movements become lighter, faster. His thoughts snapped into place, his body now reacting before his brain even processed the situation. He rose from the bench with a new intensity, his eyes scanning the court. Then he look at his teammates "I have a plan." Ethan said, his voice calm but decisive. It was time To be continue Chapter 77 - 64: White (20) Chapter 77: Chapter 64: White (20) Ethan clenched his fists slowly, heart steady. It was time. He stood, not like someone rising from exhaustionbut like a switch had flipped. His movements were crisp, precise, his steps silent yet purposeful. Even the way he exhaled seemed sharpened. His gaze zeroed in on Venganzas defensive setupan aggressive man-press that shifted like a hive, perfectly timed, perfectly synchronized. "I have a plan." Ethan said, his voice calm but decisive. Charlotte blinked, caught off guard. "What do we do?" she asked, arms still crossed but her tone more alert now, curious. Ethan turned his head slowly, scanning his team. Their jerseys clung to sweat, their faces marked with fatigue, but they were all still standing. Still waiting. He met each of their eyes, then said with cold clarity: "Charlotte. Off-ball fake then cut baseline. Lucasdecoy. Pull your defender out, top-right. Evan, fake screen then curl. Louie, drag your man to the wing. Ill hit the gap." Evan raised a hand, confused. "Waitwait." he said, stepping forward. "This is too sudden." Charlotte took a step closer too, eyeing Ethan. "And," she said, brows furrowed. "You didnt explain why we should do any of that. Whats the play?" Ethan inhaled slowly. Then, calmly, he replied: "Because Ive been watching their rhythm this whole quarter. They switch coverage every 4.2 seconds. Their weak side help overcommits at the 5-second mark when the ball side loads up. If we break the timingjust oncetheir whole chain collapses for two seconds. Thats all I need." His eyes briefly flicked across the court. Venganzas captain, Vin Cruz, had just turned toward him, gaze sharp and composed, like he already knew Ethan was planning something. Their eyes locked for a moment. Two minds reading the same chessboard. "And if were clean," Ethan added, his voice dropping low, "I can thread it through before their system recalibrates." Charlottes eyes widened. "...Did you just figure out their gameplay?" Ethan turned toward her, meeting her eyes with quiet certainty. "Yes." A beat. Charlotte swallowed, eyes narrowing. Then she turned her gaze away, but not before the faintest blush started to creep across her cheeks. (This boy... nothis man...) she thought, her chest tightening. (He figured all of that out... not even Ino, even if we brought in a pro-level analyst right now, I dont think they couldve picked it apart that quickly. And he did it in minutes... and built a plan on top of it...) Louie, standing nearby and noticing her dazed look, leaned over with a teasing smirk. "What, you fallin for the captain, Charlotte?" Charlotte jumped slightly. "Wh-who would fall for him? Hmphidiot." She looked away fast, a furious blush blooming now as she crossed her arms tightly. Lucas just gave a soft, knowing smile, not saying a word, but clearly amused. Evan, though, didnt smile. He was staring at Ethan with a different expressionquiet, reflective. His hands clenched just slightly by his sides as a thought echoed in his head: (Just how far... should I push myself, just to walk behind you...?) Time to tear down Venganzas perfect rhythm. Ethan stood tall, his voice calm yet charged with urgency. He addressed the team with precision. "Now, what we do is exactly what I said. Remember They switch coverage every 4.2 seconds. Their weak side help overcommits at the 5-second mark when the ball side loads up. So Charlotte, off-ball fake then cut baseline. Lucasdecoy. Pull your defender out, top-right. Evan, fake screen then curl. Louie, drag your man to the wing." Ill hit the gap." He paused, his eyes scanning each of them to make sure the message landed. "Then, after this movewe shift. Next up... its Lucass turn." Lucas blinked. "Yes?" Ethan turned to him, gaze sharp but steady. "Use Allen Iverson speed." Lucas blinked again, confused. "Allen Iverson speed?" Ethan nodded slowly. "You used it once before, remember? So I know you can use it again." "What do we need it for?" Lucas asked, unsure but already feeling the adrenaline. Ethan stepped closer, voice dropping just enough for it to be personal. "You trust me, right?" Lucas didnt hesitate. "Yeah. I trust you." Ethan gave a rare, small smile. "Then good. Thats enough. When I shout it Use it." Lucas nodded. "Got it." From the bench, Noahs voice cut inanxious but hopeful. "What about me?" Ethan looked at him, softer now, but no less serious. "Its still not your time... Dont worry. Once I execute my plan against them, Ill make sure you sub in for me." Noah swallowed hard. "O-Okay." Ethans gaze hardened. "Dont worry about them... We just need to win this gameto free your family from Gregs grip." Noahs eyes widened, then slowly he nodded, clenching his fists tighter in his lap. "Right." And then The whistle blew. Thirty-three seconds. Evan leaned in. "Ethan... its started." Ethans eyes sharpened. "Lets go." And like shadows moving in sync, Lucas, Charlotte, Louie, and Evan fell in behind him. Noah watched them from the bench, jaw clenched, heart pounding. The Ordinary Possession... With Extraordinary Intention Lucas walked to the sideline and picked up the ball. Inbound. The ball arced in toward Ethan, and he caught it cleanly. He began to dribble up the court. Each step was smoother. Faster. [Flow Trigger Card: Activated] Reaction Speed +3 Rhythm Unlocked His vision widened. The court flow unfolded in front of him like a tactical map. [Clarity Card: Activated] Time perception slowed Decision-making enhanced He locked eyes with Vin Cruz, the captain of Venganzacalm, poised, arms loose, like a man whod already seen it all. But this time, Ethan saw past the calm. He saw the gears turning. He saw the timer ticking. "(With these cards...)" Ethan thought, his pupils narrowing. "(I can make the probability of this play succeed higher than ever before.)" The rhythm of the court was no longer just felt. He could see it. Tick. Tock. Switch in 3... 2... "Move" Ethan whispered. And the play began to unfold. Now it was Ethans timeto break the rhythm that Venganza thought was unbreakable. ..... Ethan dribbled forwardslow, deliberate, the ball kissing the hardwood in a rhythm that didnt match the tempo of the game. No... this rhythm belonged to him. Across the court, Vin Cruz narrowed his eyes, shifting his stance. The Venganza captain felt it instantlya shift in the air, a current turning. Momentum had quietly changed direction. Vins thoughts churned. (He feels different than before... what is this... a bluff? No. Its something elsehes calm. Calculated.) Out loud, Vin scoffed. "No matter what you do... it wont work." Ethan didnt flinch. His eyes locked onto Vins like crosshairs. "You cant score anymore..." "...because Im already done." Vin frowned. "What?" Ethans voice came cold, precisesurgical. "Analyzing your gameplay." Vins posture twitched slightly. "...Analyzing?" Ethan stepped again, now inside the arc, not even glancing at the rim. "You switch coverage every 4.2 seconds." Vin gritted his teeth. "Whoahwhat makes you so confident?" "Cause I am." Vin barked a laugh. "Cause I am? How arrogant!" But then .. The Movement 0:03 seconds into the play the first disruption. Charlotte fakes a cut to the top of the key, pulling Kaia Volt, Venganzas razor-sharp shooting guard, out of the paint. ThensnapCharlotte reverses, diving baseline. Kaia hesitates, caught in the bait. Lucas jogs lightly toward the top-right corner, casual. His body language screams decoyand Zeke Monroe, the lockdown wing, shades just a little too far toward him. Thats all Ethan needed. Evan charges toward Ethan, faking a screen on Vinbut at the last second, curls away like a wave crashing wide. Dante Cruz, the visionary power forward, calls out the switch, too late. The chain breaks. Louie slides out toward the wing, and Silas Korrin, the shot-blocking anchor of the paint, follows with slow, heavy steps dragged further from his comfort zone. And Ethan? He waited. Watching the gears grind. Tick. Tick. 4.1... 4.2... switch. He exploded. Ethan cut hard left, darting into the seam that had just formed between Zeke and Dante, a gap born from miscommunication. "NOW!" he called Clarity Card surged. Flow Trigger burst. The court widened. For exactly 2 seconds... Ethan became untouchable. 1.3 seconds in, he was already inside. Vins eyes widened. "Wheres the help?!" Too late. Charlotte had received a skip pass from Evan, then dumped it behind her back to the cutting Ethan perfectly in sync. Ethan caught it mid-stride. He leapt, but his eyes scanned the floorhe wasnt going to finish this. His gaze locked on Lucas, and at the last instant, he flipped the ball backward. Lucas caught it but didnt dash. He stood, poised, reading the floor . And he saw the look in Ethans eyes. Not yet. He didnt use Allen Iverson Speed. He just caught and faked. Zeke didnt bite. Lucas rotated, reset the ball to Ethan. ... The Shot Clock Drops 12 Seconds Left Ethan stood there, ball back in his hands. Vin shouted from across the court. "Dante! Recenter! Zekewatch the top!" But it was too late. The rhythm had already been shaken. The defenders timing... off. The trust in their own system, fractured. Ethan turned and fired a quick bounce pass Charlotte caught it baseline, wide open. Kaia dove late Charlotte flipped it in. Swish. ... On the Other Side Vin caught the inbound and glared at Ethan. "Youre breaking the timing... but its not over." Ethan said nothing. He just looked at Lucas, who was breathing evenly, crouched, waiting. He nodded once. Still saving that speed. The next play? Wouldnt be Ethans. But when the moment came... Lucas would run like lightning. And the next opening? Wouldnt be clean. Itd be brutal. And thats what Venganza had never faced before: Chaos designed by genius. To be continue Chapter 78 - 65: White (21) Chapter 78: Chapter 65: White (21) After Minute of playing Score: Venganza 18 C Ordinary 15 Ethan jogged back on defense, breathing slow, calm. His eyes never left the movement of Venganzas players. Across from him, Vin Cruz dribbled up, his steps tight and precise. A rhythm player. But rhythm can be broken. "Hes shifting again," Ethan thought. "Trying to bait me into biting early. I wont." Vin crossed halfcourt and called out a signal. "Dante, screen!" Vin snapped. Dante stepped up, solid and square. "Switch it!" Ethan called out. Evan rotated up, and Ethan dropped backseamless switch. Vin hesitated. "They didnt fall for it?" he thought, eyes narrowing. He kicked the ball to Zeke Monroe on the wing. Zeke drovehard. Louie met him at the arc, arms wide. Zeke twisted, spun "Collapse the paint!" Ethan shouted. Evan helped, Louie pivoted, and Zeke had nowhere to go. He kicked it out to Kaia Volt in the corner. Charlotte was already there. "Theyre reading us..." Vin gritted his teeth. Kaia launched the shot under pressure Clang. Rebound. Louie snatched it. Fast outlet to Ethan. He was already sprinting. The court opened wide. "Again," Ethan whispered. "Same shape. Same bait. New result." ... They reset at the top. Venganza hustled back. Vin motioned for tighter coverage. Ethan waited for the five to get into position. "(Louie, fake drag, then flare. Charlotte, lift out, then dive. Evan, cut then screen for Lucas.)" The play started like before. Lucas moved right, drawing Zeke. ThenEthan shouted. "Now, Lucas!" Time cracked. Lucas exploded. The court blurred. His legs blurred. A phantom. "Allen Iverson Speed!" Zeke blinkedand Lucas was gone. "W-what?" Zeke gasped, trying to turn. Too late. Lucas slipped through the gap like wind between trees. Charlottes fake dive dragged Kaia down. Louie flared, pulling Dante wider. And in the gap, Ethan launched a perfect no-look passcurved and timed to land just as Lucas arrived. He caught it in motion. One dribble. Step. Bang. Slam. The rim shook. Vins eyes widened. " That... speed...!" Ethan stared back, calm. "Shocking, isnt it?" ... Back on defense, Venganza ball Vin clenched his fists. "Hes breaking our control. Our tempo." Zeke looked at his hands. "Whats wrong with me... Dante glanced at Silas. "We need to adjust. Hes seeing through everything." But Silas just stood in the paint, unmoving. "No..." he said. "He is controlling it." ....... On the bench, Noah sat up straight, hands tight around his shorts. He looked at Ethan, who now walked with slow purpose, like a general with the war mapped out. "Just... how far ahead is he thinking?" Noah whispered. And Ethan, without turning, almost as if hearing him, raised a hand. "Get ready, Noah," he said quietly. "Next is your moment." Noahs breath caught in his throat. "Y-yes." He clenched his fists. And waited for the storm to carry him next. .... Meanwhile... The low hum of machines filled the control room like a quiet stormconstant, pulsing, alive with tension. Fluorescent lights blinked in rhythm, their soft glow casting shadows against the metal panels and glass monitors. On Monitor 6, the moment still played back in a loopLucas mid-air, his body curved toward the rim. The man leaned back, rubbing his chin. "You all saw that, right?" he muttered. "That wasnt just some flashy pass. That was a message." No one spoke. They didnt have to. Every monitor told the same story. On Monitor 1, the old man, leaned forward, fingers steepled beneath his lips. His face was unreadablejust two sharp eyes beneath shadow. "Jason Williamss vision. Iversons speed. And now... what will he copy next?" On Monitor 7, a man, He pointed directly at Lucass frame on screen. "He waited," he said, voice dry with disbelief. "He didnt even use the speed at first. He let them think they were still in control. Thats psychological warfare." Monitor 8 crackled to life. "It seems like your team cannot beat them, Greg," a younger voice said, followed by a smug laugh. Greg clenched his jaw. "No... they can. They just..." "They just what?" the old man from Monitor 1 cut in, voice cold and sharp. "Greg... dont disappoint us. We fund your experiment. We give you your machines, your models, your simulations. If this is all your little project amounts to..." He paused. "Then you disappoint us." Gregs hands curled into fists. He stared at the scoreboard VENGANZA: 18 ORDINARY: 16 Two points. A breath of distance. A breath from losing control. "No," Greg hissed. "This isnt over. They just need to wake up." His hand slammed a button. ... The court. A voice suddenly boomed from hidden speakers all around the arena. It echoed over the court, chilling, artificial. "VENGANZA!! Dont make me disappointed!!" Vin Cruzs eyes twitched. He looked up at the speaker. "Tch," he muttered, teeth grinding. "Even the Control Rooms panicking." He turned back toward the court, gripping the ball like it owed him something. He glanced at his teammates. Kaia Volt. Locked and loaded. Zeke Monroe. Eyes focused, jaw tight. Dante Cruz. Calm, already moving into position. Silas Korrin. Silent, arms crossed like iron bars waiting to collapse. Vin threw the ball to Dante for the inbound. Dante caught, scanned, then passed it back immediately. Vin walked the ball up. "Focus," he said, low but sharp. "Forget the noise. Forget the flair. Theyre not better than us. Were the system. We are Venganza." He scanned the defense. Ethan stood front and center, crouched low, reading everything. "Lets see how well you read this," Vin thought, eyes narrowing. "Zekecross. Kaiacurl in. Dantescreen then pop. Silasseal and crash." It was their old reliable. A play called Pulselock. Theyd run it a hundred times. Perfect every time. Vin drove right, then snapped a no-look pass behind to Kaiacurling in hard. But Ethan had already rotated. Kaia caught and hesitatedhe wasnt open. Louie was there now, arms up. Kaia forced it anyway. The ball left his fingers Smack! Charlotte tipped it midair. Evan caught it. Turned. Passed it to Ethan without looking. Transition. Ethan didnt even slow down. Ethan stormed down the court like lightning bottled in sneakers. Every bounce of the ball was measured, precise. His eyes scanned everythingVin shadowing the middle, Zeke rotating right, Kaia recovering, Silas already stepping in to clog the paint. Another Clarity Card active. Time felt slower. The court looked wider. Options bloomed like blueprints in his mind. "Now." "Flow Trigger." A faint golden shimmer flickered in his eyes. Speed +3. Rhythm unlocked. His breath synced with his heartbeat. Evan curled toward the wingdrawing Zeke just enough. Louie dragged Kaia with a cut to the left. Charlotte sprinted wide, then stopped, selling a fake and yanking Silass attention with her. Lucas still waited at the top, baiting. Watching. Then came the gap. A crease barely visible between Dante and Vin. A gap born from milliseconds. To most players, it wouldnt matter. But Ethan wasnt most players. He dropped low. "Exploit it." One dribble. Two steps. He sliced through the seam like a knife through silk. Vin reached outtoo late. Dante turnedtoo slow. Silas rotatedtoo far. "Charlotte!" The ball fired out of Ethans hand like a bullet. Charlotte caught it in the cornerwide open "Shoot it." One heartbeat. One breath. The shot soared. Swish. The net snapped like a whip. Then Ethan look at Noah "(Noah...)" Ethan thought. "(Sorry it seems Its not the time yet... until I completely make that plan)" .... The scoreboard glowed ominously: VENGANZA: 18 ORDINARY: 17 The underground buzzed with tension. Then the static crackled. Gregs voice boomed from the hidden speakers above the court. "What the hell is this?! Is this the best you can do, Venganza?! Remember what I said!" Everyone froze for half a second. Vin Cruz clenched his teeth as Gregs words echoed in his head. "No... We have to win this game." He took the ball from the referee, hands tighter than before. His eyes were shadowednot by fear, but pressure. Kaia Volt stepped beside him. "How?" she whispered. "HeEthanhe predicts everything we do..." Dante Cruz looked down, his voice low and heavy. "That Ethan Albarado... hes reading our setups like hes inside our huddle." Then, Zeke Monroe broke the silence. "I know how... we just have to fucking do it." His tone was sharp, eyes blazing. Silas Korrin turned toward him, confused. "You mean..." Zeke gave a slow nod. "Yeah... thats what I meant." Vin turned sharply, locking eyes with Zeke. "No. We dont have to do those kinds of things." Zekes jaw tensed. "But we cant defeat them if we play fair" "Enough. I said no!" Zeke didnt argue. He looked away and clenched his fists. "Fine..." ..... Back on the court, the possession began. Vin passed to Kaia. Kaia quickly moved left, trying to create separation. Charlotte tracked her closelyeyes sharp, footwork tight. Kaia faked a step-back, then drove baseline. Silas set a quick off-ball screen. Zeke cut toward the elbow. Dante floated right, spacing the floor. Kaia stopped short, pivoted, and passed back to Vinwho was now at the top of the arc. Vin hesitated. Ethan stood in front of him like a wall of calm chaos. Not reacting. Not flinching. Just waiting. Vin faked right, crossed left. Ethan mirrored. No bite. "Hes not guessing... he knows..." Vin thought. Dante shouted from the wing. "Now! Switch it!" Zeke came curling around Silas for a pass. He caught it, eyes burning with ragedribbled once, planted his foot "Ill end this!" His voice rang out across the gym, loud, furious. But "Not on my watch!!" Charlotte burst into view like lightning. Her feet moved before her thoughts did, body driven by instinct and duty. Zekes eyes widened for half a second. "(Shit... What should I do?)" He didnt stop. He couldnt stop. He jumped. Charlotte leaped with him, arms outstretchedclean contest. But Zeke had already committed. He swung his elbow out for balance. Whether he meant it or not CRACK! His elbow slammed into Charlottes face mid-air. She didnt cry outjust fell. Blood flew in an arc like paint on canvas. Zeke released the ball. It left his fingertips with perfect rotation. Swish. The basket counted. But no one cheered. Because Charlottes body crumpled to the floor, lifeless for a beat, a pool of crimson blooming beneath her short black hair. "SIS!!!" Lucass voice ripped across the court like a thunderclap. He was already moving, running toward her. The ref raised his whistleblowing hard. "Defensive foul! Count the basket!" Silence. Then chaos. "The fuck?! Defensive foul?! Whats that for!!" Louie roared from behind the arc, stepping toward the ref. On the bench, Noah stood frozen. Evans hand covered his mouth. Zeke stepped back, breathing heavylooking down at his hands. A flicker of something passed through his eyes. Ethan didnt move at first. He wasnt just shockedhe was pulled back. Pulled into something deeper. A memory. A trauma. Something he hadnt faced in a long time. But Charlottes soft voice cracked the haze. "Im... okay..." Her words were slurred, blurred. She was trying to sit up. Her eyes unfocused, blood dripping down her cheek, hair stuck to her temple. She looked more ghost than human. But Ethan knew. She wasnt okay. Not at all. Ethan then took a steadying breath, the noise of the crowd melting into static. His hand slid casually toward his waistbandanyone watching wouldve thought he was adjusting his jersey. But in his mind, a silent command echoed like instinct. [Basic Healing Ointment x1 Used] A faint shimmer pulsed beneath the fabric of his shorts, and then, like warm breath in cold air, the ointment materialized in his palm. Soft and glowing with a gentle golden-blue hue, it looked almost divine. He lowered himself beside Charlotte, who was half-sitting, half-swayingher hands trembling, her short black hair streaked with blood. His eyessharp and unwaveringsoftened as they met hers. "Youre not okay," he said, barely above a whisper. A tone meant for no one but her. Charlotte didnt argue. Didnt nod. She just blinked, slowly. Her lips parted slightly like she wanted to say something, but the words never came. Ethan moved gently. He pushed aside the blood-matted strands of hair on her temple, exposing the gash where Zekes elbow had landed. His fingers were precise, careful. He dabbed the salve onto the wound in circular motions. The ointment shimmered for a heartbeatthen vanished into her skin, leaving only a faint glow. The bleeding stopped. The swelling faded. The color began to return to her cheeks. As he worked, a shadow dropped to his side. Lucas. He hit his knees beside Charlotte without a word. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white, but his face remained unreadable. Calmbut only on the outside. He watched Ethans hands. Watched the salve. Watched his sister breathe. Ethan, without glancing up, said softly: "Dont worry. You know what this ointment does, right?" Lucass jaw tightened. "Yeah..." He nodded once. The tension didnt leave his body, but something in his shoulders relaxedbarely. Just a few feet away, Louie, Evan, and Noah had gathered. The game had paused. But no one moved, no one spoke. They all just watched Ethan. Meanwhile Ethan mind heard those words again when he was still Jonathan Brandit in that accident... "Help!!!... Help me!!" The words echoed again in his head, words from his pasthis real past. Before this world. Before the name Ethan Albarado meant anything. His jaw clenched, and his fists curled at his sides. He felt helpless againtrapped in a memory hed buried under a hundred layers of smiles and second chances. Then A voice. So soft it barely cut through the fog. "Ethan..." Charlotte. Barely a whisper. But it was like a crack of thunder. A thread in the dark pulling him back. Ethan then wiped the sweat from his brow, slipped back into calm, and with a quiet chuckle, added "Guess youre tougher than you look." Charlotte blinked slowly confused. Her silver eyes found Ethans, soft but tired, almost glassy. Ethan then gently brushed a streak of blood from her cheek and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Then, without a word, he stood. He turned toward the bench. "Noah. Sub in for Charlotte." Noah blinked. Then nodded. His hands were shaking, but he clenched them into fists. "Its time for you to shine." Noah jogged toward the scorers table, his movements gaining confidence with every step. Ethan extended a hand to Charlotte. She took it, and he helped her gently to her feet, keeping her steady as her balance returned. Lucas stood too, towering slightly over Ethan, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. He didnt say anything right away. But his eyes Those golden eyes. They werent tired anymore. They were burning. With anger. With clarity. With intent. He stared across the court at Zeke, who stood by the three-point line. And then Lucas spoke, his voice low, cold, and razor-sharp: "Ill crush you." Zeke froze. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. He tried to brush it off, act unfazedbut there was something about Lucas now that made his stomach twist. Something that didnt feel human. Golden eyes, glowing like fire beneath a calm surface. They werent ordinary. They were something else. To be continue Chapter 79 - 66: White (22) Chapter 79: Chapter 66: White (22) The ball was now in Ordinarys possession after the foul and Zeke shoot the ball, now Noah had already taken Charlotte place, stepping onto the court, hands balled into determined fists. But the one who changed the most... was Lucas. He stood at the top of the key, the ball being inbounded toward him, but he didnt move at first. He didnt even blink. His golden eyes burnednot with exhaustion, not with fearbut something else. Something heavy. Something dangerous. Lucas Graves wasnt tired anymore. Not even close. His hands tightened at his sides as flashes of memory struck through him like lightning His fathers strong arms lifting him after every game. The warmth of Roman Gravess laugh. The cold, merciless beep of the machines that now kept their father alive. Three years. Three long, empty years. Roman Graves, the man who taught them how to live, how to dream Still trapped inside a coma, silent, unmoving. Neither gone nor present. And now Charlotte. His big sister. His family. His shield. Falling to the ground, blood pouring down her face. Lucas clenched his jaw until it hurt. He thought he had put it behind himthe fear of losing someone. He thought he could protect her just by being strong. By being fast. By smiling and pretending he was okay. But pretending wasnt enough anymore. Not when someone dared to hurt his family right in front of him. Something inside Lucas snapped. Not like glass shattering. Like chains breaking. Even Noah, felt it. Noah glanced sideways at Lucasand for the first time, he flinched. This wasnt the usual cheerful, reckless Lucas. This wasnt the boy who cracked dad jokes and grinned during drills. This wasnt even the Lucas who fought hard during practice. This... was different. Lucas Graves was pissed. And when a kind-hearted boy gets mad You better start praying. Because kindness holds back the worst storms. But once the dam breaks? Theres no stopping what comes next. Lucas finally moved. The referees whistle cut through the thick air. It was time to inbound. But before the ball could be tossed, Lucas stepped upquietly, but with a force that made Ethan turn. Lucass fists were clenched at his sides, tremblingnot from fear, but from something deeper. His black hair, matted with sweat, seemed almost darker now under the lights. "Ethan..." Lucas said, voice low but steady. "Can you give me one minute?" Ethan blinked, confused. "Why?" Then he looked at Lucass eyes and froze. They werent just yellow anymore. They were turning. Darkening. Glowing. Golden rings sharpened around his pupils, and bleeding into that gold was a deep black haloas if something ancient, something primal, had awakened inside of Lucas Graves. Ethan felt a chill scrape his spine. This wasnt the usual Lucasthe shy, kindhearted boy who apologized for stepping on someones shoes. This was something else. Lucas stepped closer, voice barely above a whisper, but it slammed into Ethan like a hammer. "Let me pay them back for what they did to my sister." Ethan opened his mouth but the words wouldnt come. He saw it clearly. Lucas wasnt asking for permission. He was telling him. Ethan swallowed and nodded once, stepping back. "Go," Ethan said quietly. The ball was inbounded. Lucas caught it. As He snatched the inbound pass with a single, almost casual grab He didnt even look at the defender in front of him. Didnt need to. He took one dribble, low and sharp, his feet exploding forward with a speed that made the defender stagger back. Vin Cruz, Venganzas leader, stood at the top of the key, arms folded, eyes gleaming like a king waiting for a challenger. Kaia Volt tightened her laces, her body twitching in excitementZaia peeking through with a delighted giggle only she could hear. Silas Korrin braced himself under the rim, the wall in the paint. Dante Cruz watched, scanning Lucass posture, his gait, his heartbeateverything. And Zeke Monroe hovered by the wing, hands itching to swipe, to punish. Lucas breathed once. "One minute," he thought. "Thats all Ill need." He exploded forward. Kaia Volt lunged to meet him firstlightning-quick, almost too fast for the eye. Lucas sidestepped her so fast it looked like a glitch in reality. Kaias fingers brushed the empty air where Lucas used to be. Zaias voice chirped gleefully in her mind, "Oooh, hes fun!" Silas Korrin roared, stomping forward to block the lane. Lucas didnt even blink. He feinted left, dipped low, and euro-stepped past the giant, his sneakers squealing against the hardwood. Silas turned, stunnedtoo slow. Dante Cruz, the Vision Specialist, moved to interceptpredicting where Lucas would go next. But Lucas wasnt predictable anymore. His golden-black eyes locked onto Dante. Dante blinked and Lucas cut right with an inhuman sharpness, leaving Dante stumbling left like a puppet with its strings cut. The crowd gasped. Even the OrdinaryEvan, Noah, Louiestood frozen, mouths open. Zeke Monroe dropped into his crouch. The Lockdown Wing. The last wall. Lucas dribbled low, each bounce like a hammer against the ground. Zeke struck out, trying to slap the ball away But Lucas spun. A spin move so vicious, so precise, that Zekes knees buckled slightly. Lucas broke past him. Straight toward the basket. Vin Cruz moved in at last, his smile dark and dangerous. Vin leapt, arms wide. Lucas soared. It wasnt just a jump. It was a declaration. "You cant stop me!" Lucas roared inside. He twisted midair, evading Vins fingers by inches, and kissed the ball softly off the backboard. It dropped through the net with a whisper. Score. Lucas landed hard, the sound of his sneakers slamming onto the wood echoing like thunder. AS The gym eruptednot in cheersbut in shock. Vin Cruz turned slowly, staring at Lucas with a new expression Recognition. Respect. And just a hint of something else. Worry. Lucas stood tall, chest heaving, his golden-black eyes flashing under the arena lights. He looked back toward the other side ...toward Ethan. Ethan met his gaze. He smiledsmall, almost invisible. Because he understood. This was no longer just Lucas Graves. This was the storm he had always hidden inside. And it had finally been unleashed. The gym was frozen. The scoreboard ticked up. one point. But no one was looking at the scoreboard. They were all looking at him. Lucas Graves stood under the basket, chest rising and falling like a man who had just broken out of chains. Vin Cruz stared at him from the free throw line Vins smile cracked. Not in amusement. Not in disdain. But in interest. In wariness. He brushed his thumb against his jawline, tilting his head slightly, eyes gleaming like a predator recognizing another beast. He didnt say a word. He didnt need to. But the way his shoulders squared up, the way his stance shifted ever so slightly, said everything. Vin CruzVenganzas kingwas now taking Lucas seriously other than Ethan Albarado Across the court, Ethan Albarado stood frozen, hand still half-raised like he wanted to say something but forgot how to breathe. The familiar smile tugged at Ethans lipstight, fierce, proud. He didnt have the words for it. He didnt need them. "Lucas..." Ethan thought, eyes burning, "youre not just a player anymore. Youre our weapon." He whispered under his breath, just loud enough for himself. "Get em." The rest of the Ordinary stood just as stunned. Louie, arms folded, stared with his mouth hanging open, the toothpick he usually chewed falling from his lips onto the floor unnoticed. "Holy crap," Louie muttered. "That... that wasnt normal." He scrubbed a hand through his messy hair, heart hammering against his ribs. "This dude just went Super Saiyan," he whispered hoarsely. Noah, usually the calm, responsible one, leaned forward, eyes wide as saucers. His fists tremblednot from fear, but pure, raw adrenaline. A grin started crawling onto Noahs face, a crazy, wild grin. He slapped Louie on the back so hard Louie nearly fell off the bench. "Hes ours," Noah said, voice shaking with excitement. "Hes on OUR side!" Meanwhile, Evan just laughedsharp and bright, hands on his head like he couldnt believe what he just witnessed. "He just cooked them," Evan said, laughing harder now. "BRO. HE JUST COOKED ALL OF THEM!" He punched the air, practically vibrating with hype. Then Vin Cruz took a step forward. No more lounging. No more smirking. He raised one hand and pointed at Lucasdirect, commanding. "You..." Vin said quietly, lips barely moving. Lucas tilted his head, eyes gleaming. He didnt speak. Didnt need to. His smile said it all. "Come and get me." ... Meanwhile Monitor Room C 9 Monitors, 1 Big Screen The room was bathed in dim, flickering light from the nine monitors surrounding the room, each displaying different angles of the game. At the center, a massive screen showcased the action in full motion. Greg sat in the command chair, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the armrest, his sharp eyes darting between screens. The tension was thick. Every breath, every flicker on the monitorsit all weighed heavily in the air. Monitor 6: A man in a gray blazer, sharp features illuminated by the glow, leaned forward, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. "I cant believe what he just did..." he muttered, voice tight with awe. Before anyone could respond, the old man from Monitor 1 spoke, his voice slow, almost reverent. "Lucas Graves..." He didnt get to finish. Monitor 8the troublemakercut in, voice crackling with laughter, filled with urgency. "This is interesting, ahahaha! Greg, look at your little minions, hahahaha!" Gregs jaw clenched, grinding his teeth hard enough to hurt. Monitor 2: A masked man with blond hair leaned closer to his screen, his hidden eyes glinting behind the mask. "Lucas Graves... just like his father," he said simply, almost to himself. Monitor 3: A man in his 40s, glasses perched low on his nose, leaned forward with a curious glint in his eye. "Should we talk about that ointment Ethan gave to the Graves girl?" he asked, voice tinged with sly suspicion. The room went momentarily still. Gregs eyes narrowed sharply. Monitor 1: The old man grunted. "I thought you checked all their equipment and clothes. Why cant you spot a damn ointment?" Greg opened his mouththen faltered. "I... I dont" Monitor 8 burst out laughing again, voice practically howling through the speakers. "Hoh! I know! Maybe that Ethan kid hid it in his boxers! HAHAHA!" Gregs fist slammed down on the armrest, but he said nothing. Monitor 5: On another screen, a stern woman in her 50s crossed her arms tightly across her chest, her mouth a tight line of annoyance. "Shut up, Drew," she snapped at Monitor 8. Then she turned back toward the big screen, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the court. "Is that the so-called ointment our team warned about?" she asked coldly. Greg exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to stay calm. "Yes... it looks like it," he muttered darkly. His gaze, sharp as a blade, turned to the boy standing at the edge of the court Ethan. His fingers stopped tapping. The air inside the room grew even heavier. Something was happening. Something they hadnt accounted for. .. Meanwhile Back on the Court The sounds of the game faded into a dull roar behind them. Ethan pulled Noah aside, his face serious, eyes sharp. "Listen," Ethan said, his voice low but urgent. "Im telling you this plan because its crucial. If we mess this up..." He didnt finish the sentence. He didnt have to. Noah nodded once, sharp and quick. "Got that," he said, clenching his fists at his sides. Above them, the Venganza possession stirredsomething unseen, something heavylike the air itself was holding its breath. Ethans mind raced. This was their shot. No hesitation. No second chances. They had to move Now. To be continue Chapter 80 - 67: White (23) Chapter 80: Chapter 67: White (23) Venganza 21 C Ordinary 18 2:40 minutes left Timeout: Venganza The underground court felt alive with tension. The fluorescent lights flickered faintly, casting cold, sterile beams over the waxed floor. There were no roaring fans. No friends or families watching. No camera flashes. Only the players. The solitary referee standing near center court, stone-faced. And high above, hidden behind tinted glass walls, the quiet watchers from the Monitor Room the real audience. The entire space felt like a sealed vault. A battlefield where only skilland something darkerwould decide the victors. Near the Venganza bench, Vin Cruz stood with arms crossed, unmoving. His shadow stretched long under the harsh ceiling lights, cutting across the floor like a blade. His face was unreadable. Calm. Cold. But those who knew him best could see itthe faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, the storm raging behind his eyes. Nearby, Kaia stirred restlessly. NoZaia had surfaced. The shift in her was immediate, violent. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH! I WANT TO CRUSH THEM SO BAD!!!" Her maniacal laughter echoed against the concrete walls, sounding almost feral in the empty underground court. Somewhere across the court, a few of the Ordinary players glanced over, disturbed by the sudden eruption. Vin simply lifted his hand. "Everyone." The single word dropped into the tense air like a hammer. Silence slammed down. Even Zaia, with her fractured mind, fell quiet. Because no matter how wild they became, they all respected Vin. Zeke Monroe scoffed under his breath, arms crossed. "Tsk." Dante Cruz, standing closer to him, shot Zeke a knowing glance. "Looks like you woke him up, Zeke," Dante said softly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Zeke clicked his tongue again. "Tsk... How the hell was I supposed to know that girl would block me?!" he muttered, glaring back at Dante. Behind them, Silas Venganzas wall of muscle cracked his knuckles one by one. Each pop echoed through the empty court, sounding more ominous than it should have. He rumbled low: "What should we do... Captain?" All their eyes were drawn back to Vin. He hadnt moved an inch. Only his eyes, narrowed, flickered with decision. "Dont worry..." he said, voice low and steady. "Ill do what needs to be done." Dante stiffened, sensing something was wrong. Something different. And then Vin reached into the waistband of his shorts. Fingers curled around something small. The team collectively leaned forward. It wasnt one of the usual pills that handed out with vague promises and a consequence. This was different. A prototype. The rumors about it had spread among them in hushed, fearful whispers. Stronger. Faster. But unfinished. Unstable. In Vins mind, Gregs voice replayed itself, calm but carrying the weight of finality: "Youll be faster. Stronger. Beyond what they can handle. But the third pill..." He had paused then, fixing Vin with an unusually grave look. "Itll tear you apart from the inside if youre not careful." Vin stared down at the pill lying cold and heavy in his palm. His teammates watched, unmoving. Even Zaia held her breath. Dante stepped forward instinctively, voice rough with fear. "Brother... thats a" Vin silenced him with a single look. "Dont worry," Vin whispered. "Everything... will be according to his plan." His grip tightened. For half a heartbeat, doubt flickered across his face. But then He crushed the pill between his teeth. Swallowed it dry. The reaction was instant. Fire tore down his throat and exploded inside his chest, like swallowing molten iron. His muscles seized, his lungs burned, his heart roared in his ears. He stumbled one step then caught himself. The world blurred. Tilted. Then SNAP. Everything locked into sharp, hyper-real focus. The overhead lights burned brighter. The faint buzz of the monitors high above droned louder. Even the tiny shift of dust swirling above the court was visible to him now. Vin exhaled. Steam real, physical steam drifted off his shoulders in faint tendrils. He rolled his neck slowly, every vertebra popping in sequence. The ground beneath his sneakers seemed to crackle with barely restrained power. "For my team," he thought grimly. "For my family." The others watched, wide-eyed and frozen. They had seen it. They knew what it meant. The Captain had crossed the line. And there was no going back. The referee on the courtone of Gregs own menglanced briefly at Vin. A hint of unease flickered across even his trained face. .... Above, in the Monitor Room, Greg leaned forward slightly in his chair, fingers drumming against the armrest with sharp, deliberate taps. On monitor 8, man called drew whistled under his breath. "He actually took it..." Another masked watcher laughed low and cruel. "Now it begins..." ..... The sharp blast of the referees whistle cut through the heavy underground air. Time resumed. Zeke moved first, snapping the ball into play. A crisp inbound pass flew toward Vin Cruz, who caught it cleanly at the top of the key. For a second just a breath Vin stood there motionless, his head bowed. The ball rested against his palm, his fingers curling around it lightly. He inhaled once, deeply and exhaled, a faint mist rising from his mouth like smoke from a furnace. The court itself seemed to shrink under the weight of his presence. Ethan Albarado tensed, heart hammering in his chest. "Hes different," Ethan thought, eyes narrowing. "Somethings wrong. Whats going on...?" Vin lifted his head. And for the first time, Ethan saw it up close Vins irises had turned a ghostly, unnatural white. No pupils. No warmth. No humanity. Just a cold, blank void staring back at him. "What the...?" Ethan whispered under his breath, a chill crawling up his spine. Then without warning Vin moved. The ball slammed into the hardwood as he dribbled once, low and violent, then exploded forward. Ethan lunged to meet him but Vin wasnt there. A brutal cross-over whipped the ball from left to right, and Vin slipped past Ethan like mist, leaving him staggering off-balance. Ethan whipped his head around, desperately trying to track him but Vin was already two steps ahead. Lucas Graves cut across the lane, arms wide, trying to intercept. For a split second, it looked like he had the angle. But Vin never intended to go through him. With a blur of motion, Vin feinted left Lucas bit, shifting his weight and Vin spun violently to the right, the ball a natural extension of his body. The rotation was so tight, so fast, that Lucas stumbled, completely fooled. Now clear, Vin surged toward the rim. Evan Cooper and Noah White reacted instinctively, sliding over to form a desperate double-team. They leapt arms reaching, fingers stretching but they were a beat too slow. Vin rose into the air high, effortless, almost gliding and released the shot with chilling precision. The ball arced cleanly, almost lazily, above their fingertips. Swish. The net snapped sharply as the ball cut through. The scoreboard flickered. Venganza 22 C Ordinary 18. The sound of the ball striking the floor after falling through the hoop echoed loud in the near-empty underground court. For a second, no one moved. Ethan stared at Vin across the court, his heart pounding. Vin stood there, chest heaving slowly, his white eyes locked ahead like he didnt even recognize them anymore. Like he was something else. Something monstrous. The silence stretched then Zaias giggle cut through it, soft and broken, from the Venganza bench. Ethan swallowed hard. They werent just fighting a team anymore. They were fighting something unnatural. Something unleashed. .... 2:20 minutes left C 3rd Quarter. The referees whistle pierced the heavy underground air again. Ethan Albarado wiped the sweat from his brow, his mind spinning, his body tense. He took the ball from the referee with a frustrated grunt, muttering under his breath. "Tsk... whats going on..." Without wasting a second, Ethan inbounded the ball sharply toward Louie Gee Davas. Louie caught it cleanly, bouncing once on his heels before dribbling past half-court. Across the gym, Zaiathe wild, unleashed side of Kaiashrieked in glee. "Lets play! Play! Play!!" Her laughter scraped at their nerves like nails on glass. Louie winced, glancing toward her and muttering under his breath: "You psycho girl..." But there was no time for distraction. As Louie crossed midcourt, weaving the ball between his hands a shadow loomed. A hand shot out fast as a whip slap! Louies eyes widened in horror. The ball was gone. Vin Cruz stood there, his form hunched slightly like a predator about to pounce, the stolen ball cradled in one hand. White-eyed. Breathing heavy. Thin trails of white mist leaking from his mouth like some ancient engine running on rage and fire. Louie stumbled back instinctively, a curse tearing from his lips: "Shit... this guys eyes... theyre not human..." But Vin wasnt waiting. Without hesitation, Vin exploded forward, the ball pounding against the ground like thunder. Ethan moved to intercept, planting his feet trying to cut Vin off. For a split second, their eyes locked. Or what was left of Vins eyes. Blank. White. Emotionless. Cold as death. Ethan tensed, muscles coiling. Vin twitched and vanished. At least, thats what it felt like. A blur of speed. Speed-blitzed. Before Ethan could even blink, Vin was already past him, leaving nothing but a gust of cold air and the sound of squeaking shoes in his wake. Ethan turned, heart hammering, teeth gritted. "Tsk... this bastard..." "Hes not human anymore... hes a fucking robot..." "My plan!" Ethan clenched his fists, the realization slamming into him like a punch to the gut. "My plan is ruined now!" Across the court, Vin rocketed toward the rim, an unstoppable force barreling toward their broken defenses. And the clock kept ticking down. .... Meanwhile... Across the court, Lucas Graves stared at Vin. His hands curled into fists at his sides, the leather of his shoes creaking against the polished floor. The sight of Vin moving like a stormwhite-eyed, unstoppable, monstroussent a ripple through Lucas chest. Not fear. Not despair. Resolve. Lucas clenched his jaw. His breathing steadied. His heartbeat slowed. "(I will...)" He turned his head slightly, eyes finding Ethan across the court. His best teammate. His anchor. And in that moment, Lucas made his decision. A low voice, sharp with determination, broke from his lips: "Ethan..." Ethan, still recovering from being blitzed by Vin, whipped his head around at the sound. For a second, their gazes locked. Lucass golden eyes burned with a fierce, unshakable light. A silent understanding passed between them no words needed. But Lucas said them anyway, firm and unwavering: "Ill surpass my limit." The weight of it wasnt just bravado. It was a vow. The gym felt like it tightened around them. Even the humming monitors up in the control room seemed to quiet for a heartbeat. Lucas straightened his shoulders, feeling something stir deep inside him something wild. Something waiting. The blood in his veins felt hotter. The court beneath him sharper. Time itself seemed to slow around his body. Ethans eyes widened slightly. There was a different aura about Lucas now. Not just determination Cbut ignition. Lucas Graves was about to evolve. And whatever was about to happen next... would change the flow of the game. To be continue Chapter 81 - 68: White (24) Chapter 81: Chapter 68: White (24) 1:40 minutes left C 3rd Quarter. The court was a battlefield now. Vin, a twisted shadow of his former self, barreled forward white-eyed, breath like smoke pouring from his mouth, the ball a mere blur in his hands. Every step he took cracked the tension in the underground gym even tighter. Louie tightened his stance, gritting his teeth. "IM ALSO HERE MONSTER!!" he barked, throwing his arms wide, trying to wall off the charging monster. But Vin didnt slow down. If anything, he accelerated faster, heavier, like a freight train off the rails. Ethan watched it unfold, pulse thundering in his ears. "Vin... Lucas..." His mind raced. His plan the one he crafted to save them was hanging by a thread. And then Lucas moved. A flash. Allen Iversons legendary speed surged through Lucas veins, amplified by sheer will. He blurred past Noah, slipping between the cracks of Vins advance like a knife of pure intent. Vin, locked in tunnel vision, barely registered Louie lunging desperately to slow him only for Lucas to arrive. "NOT ON MY WATCH!!!" Lucas roared, his voice ripping through the underground arena. Time slowed. Vins pupils, even washed-out by the drugs corruption, twitched at the new threat. But his body ravaged and fueled by the third pill couldnt fully respond. Vin forced the ball forward, trying to spin past Louie but Lucas was already there. A seismic clash. Lucas didnt hesitate. He didnt blink. He threw his whole body into Vins path, hands striking the ball cleanly, precision born from hundreds of hours of practice, sacrifice, and pain. SLAP!!! The impact echoed like a gunshot. Vin staggered the ball popped free. For a heartbeat, everything froze. Vins face twisted, pain flashing across the blankness of his white eyes. The steaming breath leaking from his mouth wavered. "(It hurts... It hurts so much... What am I doing...?)" Vins mind screamed from the inside, clawing against the chemical storm eating him alive. But it was too late. The ball ricocheted away straight into Ethans waiting hands. Ethan, already crouched low, caught it seamlessly. Their plan. Their moment. Lucas landed, skidding back, chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face. He didnt even glance at the ball. He trusted Ethan. "Now..." Lucas breathed, smiling grimly through the pain. "Finish it." Ethans yellow-blue gaze hardened. He didnt hesitate. This was the moment theyd risked everything for. Their counterattack was about to begin. Ethan look at Vin state... then Ethan thought "(Vin.. He is exhausted, must be the pill.. wait this is my chance)" Then Ethans yellow-blue eyes sharpened, glowing almost predatorily under the arena lights. His mind burned hotter than his muscles. His brain wasnt clouded by chemicals or brute strength. It was razor sharp. It was lethal. He couldnt beat Vin in raw power. He couldnt beat Vin in speed. But he could outthink him. And thats all he needed. Ethans sneakers squeaked once against the polished wood as he rocketed into motion not forward. Sideways. The unexpected angle threw everyone for a split-second even Zeke Monroe, the lockdown defender, hesitated. That was the first trap. In that instant of hesitation, Ethan switched hands, a slick wrap-around dribble that drew Zekes weight left only for Ethan to snap the ball right with a violent crossover. Zeke lungedtoo late. Ethan slipped past him like a knife through silk. "First one down," Ethan muttered under his breath. Silas Korrin, the massive center, realized the threat and moved up to close the gap in the paint. Big man. Slow turn radius. Short reaction window. Perfect. Ethan didnt challenge him head-on. Instead, he accelerated just enough to bait Silas to overcommit then spun viciously just outside Silas shoulder reach, brushing by like a ghost. Silas roared and swung to blockair. Ethan was already gone. Two down. The next threat was the wild card: Kaia Voltor rather, her alter ego, Zaia. The psycho. Zaia grinned wide, her expression unhinged, hopping in place like a child waiting for candy. "Lets play play play!!!" she giggled. Most players would panic. Most players would stop. Not Ethan. He used it. He wanted it. Ethan baited her with a body feint a fake left so convincing it almost fooled eveyone. Zaia, driven more by impulse than discipline, bit immediately, lunging like a rabid wolf. But Ethan wasnt there. He was already slicing the other way, the ball flicking through his legs, almost taunting her. Zaia screamed with laughter, tumbling past him, grabbing at empty air. Three down. Now only one stood between him and victory: Dante Cruz. The mastermind power forward. A vision specialist. Dantes eyes burned into Ethans movement, analyzing angles, options, tendencies. He wasnt going to get tricked by fakes or flash. No. To beat him, Ethan needed pure tempo control. Speed. Slow. Explode. The three-beat rhythm. Ethan slowed, almost stalled right in front of Dante his body language suggesting indecision. Dante shifted forward aggressively, sensing weakness. Exactly as planned. Ethan exploded past him like a goddamn cannon shot, slipping through the narrowest window between Dantes reaching hands and the closing paint. BOOM. Charlotte could only gasp. Four defenders dismantled. All within seconds. Vin the monster still heaving smoke in the distance could only watch, wide-eyed, as Ethan charged past everyone. As Ethan rose toward the basket Vin now caught up and tried to block him But Ethan...he didnt go for a normal layup. He launched an impossible off-hand reverse layup, spinning under the rim, using the backboard as a shield against any desperate late block. The ball kissed the glass softly then dropped clean through the net. Swish. The gym erupted. The scoreboard blinked: Venganza 22 Ordinary 19 ... Meanwhile... Location: BAC U.S. Division C Executive Suite, Imperial Crest, Virginia Facility C, Level 3: Biotech Containment Zone Class Red The highest internal threat level for BAC (Biological Advancement Corporation). Assigned only when exposure to unknown biotech agents or illicit experimental drugs could lead to extreme behavioral, biological, or neurological mutation. Inside the sterile glass observation chamber, a scene of chaos was tightly contained. Athletes once promising now reduced to thrashing, drooling, and screaming wrecks, strapped to reinforced gurneys under high-tension restraints. Romanov Graves stood behind the triple-thick observation panel, arms crossed, his sharp gray eyes narrowing. His dark business suit contrasted starkly with the sterile, bright clinical light of the facility. The muffled cries and incoherent howls from inside barely reached him, but the tension was palpable. Across the room, doctors in Class IV hazmat suits moved with clinical precision, running diagnostics, injecting sedatives, and scanning data feeds that streamed holographically around them. One of the restrained athletes Bryce Liang, a prized Southeast Division recruit thrashed violently against his restraints. His skin was flushed a sickly red, veins visible like dark rivers under the surface. Bryce screamed hoarsely, saliva foaming at his mouth: "PILL! I NEED THAT PILL! GIVE ME THAT PILL!!!" The doctors didnt flinch. They had seen this too often today. Romanovs jaw tightened. He turned sharply to Mira Lang, his executive coordinator, who hovered nearby with a tablet in hand, sweat beading her brow despite the cool room temperature. "Status," Romanov barked. Mira flinched slightly but composed herself. "Maam, initial biochemistry reports are still pending," she said. "But early indicators are... concerning." She flicked her fingers across her tablet. A 3D projection sprang up between them a spinning molecular structure overlaid with ominous red warnings: UNSTABLE C DNA INTEGRITY RISK. One of the doctors inside the chamber, Dr. Kyler Flicker, the facilitys lead bio-toxicologist, chimed in through the comms. "Administrator Graves," he said, voice distorted slightly by his helmet filter, "weve isolated key data points." Romanov leaned closer, his voice like cold steel. "Talk." Dr. Flicker gestured to the hologram. "The substance introduced into these athletes systems acts as a synthetic neurochemical accelerator specifically designed to hyperstimulate neuromuscular reflexes and metabolic efficiency beyond normal biological thresholds." Romanovs eyes narrowed. "In English." Flicker nodded. "It makes them faster, stronger, more reactive. Temporarily." He hesitated. "But at the cost of catastrophic neural degradation. Their brains are overheating. Literal nerve burnout." Romanov cursed under his breath. Another doctor Dr. Serena Yao, a specialist in genomic stability stepped into the comm channel. She pointed to a second projection: neural pathways highlighted in jagged, broken flashes. "Were also seeing rapid telomere erosion," she added. "Their cells are aging at an accelerated rate. Days... maybe weeks of exposure could biologically age them years." Romanov felt a chill run through his spine. Mira whispered, horrified: "Its eating them alive from the inside..." Inside the chamber, Bryce Liang yanked at his restraints with inhuman strength, the gurney itself creaking. "PILL! THE PILL!!! I NEED IT!!!" he shrieked, his voice cracking into sobs. Romanov slammed his hand onto the control panel, silencing the external audio. He turned to Mira sharply. "I want full sequencing," he ordered. "Get me the binding agent, the delivery system, everything. Find out where this shit came from. Now." Mira nodded and sprinted out of the room, barking orders into her comm. Romanov remained, staring through the glass. The athletes inside were no longer human competitors. They were the broken shells of something unnatural. "(What the hell have we unleashed... and who gave it to them?)" he thought grimly. ... Time Remaining: 1:00 3rd Quarter The court was suffocating under the pressure. Every breath, every heartbeat echoed in the roaring silence between plays. The lights above flickeredbarely perceptiblecasting long, stretching shadows that made the players look like warriors caught between two worlds. Sweat dripped down their faces, glistening under the harsh white beams. The smell of adrenaline and rubber burned the air. The scoreboard blinked mercilessly: Venganza 22 Ordinary 19 Three points. One possession. A knifes edge. Venganza had the ball. At the top of the key, Vin Cruz stood still, the ball tucked under his arm, chest rising and falling violently, steam still leaking from his mouth. His white, hollow eyes didnt blink. Behind him, his squad assembled like a wolf pack: Zeke Monroe, the lockdown wing, bouncing lightly on his toes, eyes tracking every twitch. Dante Cruz, the vision specialist, calmly scanning the floor like a chess grandmaster. Silas Korrin, the towering center, setting brutal, immovable screens in the paint. Kaia Voltor rather, Zaiathe cheerful psycho, grinning madly, ready to blitz from the corner. Across from them Team Ordinary stood their ground. Noah White, steady, crouched low on defense. Louie Gee Davas, jaw clenched, muttering under his breath, ready to explode into action. Ethan Albarado, loose but laser-focused, brain running a thousand miles per hour. Lucas Graves, rolling his neck, shaking out the tension. He is fucking tired but still fighting. Evan Cooper, under the basket, his eyes narrowed It wasnt just a game anymore. It was survival. Referees whistlechirp! Vin snapped the ball up. It was like releasing a storm. Vin dribbled hard with his left, the ball sounding like gunshots on the hardwood. Zeke flashed a quick cut across the baseline. Ethan immediately read it. "Switch!" Ethan barked. Noah, without hesitation, snapped into a defensive shift, blocking Zekes path, while Ethan bumped into Vins lane, clogging the drive. Vin scowled, his perfect plan already fraying at the edges. Dante slid into position at the wing, signaling with a twitch of his fingers. Silas moved in for a massive screen to free Vin. Lucas saw it a half-second early. He weaved through the screen, tight and low like a snake under barbed wire, sticking on Vins hip. Evan anchored at the rim, guarding against a dump-off to Silas. Pressure. Ordinarys defense wasnt just reactionit was a living organism. Each man moved like a cell inside a bigger machine, a bigger plan. Vin grit his teeth and faked a drive Louie didnt bite. He planted himself firmly, hands wide. "NOW!!" Vin barked. Zaia exploded off the weak side for a surprise backdoor cut but Noah, the quiet sentinel, rotated instantly, blocking the passing lane with mechanical precision. Vins breath grew harsher. Nothing was working. Finally, in desperation, he forced a contested pass toward Dante. And that was the mistake. Ethan had baited him into it. Like a spider weaving a web The moment the ball left Vins fingertips, Ethan sprang forward. BOOM. Interception. Ethan plucked the ball out of the air like hed seen it coming five minutes ago. The Ordinary team roaredthen fell into a stunned silence. Ethan didnt even celebrate. He turned and sprinted. Fast. Deadly. Efficient. Louie bolted alongside him. Noah fanned out wide. Noah thought "(Mom.. Aiden wait for me..)" Lucas trailed, ready to clean up. Evan crashed down the opposite lane for the rebound if needed. It was a perfect fast break. Ethan approached the three-point line, defenders scrambling back in terror. He saw Vin, gasping, desperate to catch up. Zaia chasing from the side. Dante behind, too slow. Silastoo heavy, too far. It was now or never. Ethan could have pulled up for three. He could have dished it. Instead he lobbed it up. A soft, elegant arc. Right above the rim. Time slowed. Louie Gee Davas, fire in his veins, launched into the sky like a missile. SLAM. A violent alley-oop. The rim shook. The gym erupted. Venganza 22 Ordinary 20 ... As Louie landed, chest heaving, he roared. The energy shifted. Ordinary wasnt backing down. They werent ordinary anymore. They were dangerous. And Ethan Albarado, the brain behind it all, just smiled coldly. Vin staggered at midcourt, sweat pouring down his face, rage and confusion battling in his white, empty eyes. And Ethan? He didnt even look tired. He locked eyes with Vin from across the court. "Your move." he mouthed silently. The battlefield was just getting started. To be continue Chapter 82 - 69: White (25) Chapter 82: Chapter 69: White (25) End of 3rd Quarter Venganza 22 Ordinary 20 Possession: Venganza The buzzer echoed, signaling the end of the third quarter. Team Ordinary gathered on the bench, chests heaving, sweat dripping, but their eyesburning. Ethan sat at the edge of the bench, elbows resting on his knees, mind razor-sharp. (Now its the fourth quarter...) (Ive already analyzed their abilities. Their habits, their cracks, their limits.) (Its only a matter of time before we catch up.) He inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. Across from him, Charlotteher head healed and calm down after the earlier injurysat quietly, stealing glances at him. Ethan noticed immediately. He turned to her, eyebrow slightly raised. "Why are you looking at me?" he asked, voice low but curious. Charlotte flinched slightly, looking away. "U-um... Nothing. Its just..." she trailed off, cheeks slightly pink. "I was just wondering... what youre thinking." She hurriedly turned her face away, pretending to focus on tying her shoelaces. Ethan only chuckled under his breath and shook his head. Lucas, sitting beside them, grunted, shifting his legs. (Ugh...) (Exhausted...) (Pushing past your limits always feels like this...) (Pain. Weight. Fire in your muscles.) Lucas gritted his teeth, feeling the ache deep in his bones. Evan Cooper noticed immediately. "You okay?" Evan asked, leaning over, concern flashing in his eyes. Lucas forced a grin, waving him off. "Im... okay." Louie Gee Davas scoffed loudly from the side. "Hah. Clearly, youre having trouble, idiot." Lucas turned, his grin widening mischievously. "Call me senior, remember?" he teased, flashing a peace sign. Louie clicked his tongue and looked away, but his mouth twitchedtrying not to smile. For a brief moment, despite the bruises and burns on their bodies, the bench felt lighter. Alive. ..... Meanwhile Noah White sat silently at the far end of the bench, gripping a small ointment bottle tightly in his hand. The same ointment Ethan had given him through Aiden. Noah rubbed it gently over his kneesthe same knees that had betrayed him years ago, robbing him of his dreams. For a moment, he closed his eyes, feeling. The familiar stabbing pain wasnt there. His knees... felt strong. Alive. (I can do this...) (Its not like before. Its not hurting like before.) (This time...) Noah tightened his hands into fists, his heart thudding with a powerful, painful hope. (Just you wait, Aiden...) (Mom...) (Well win this game. Well save you both.) ... The fourth quarter loomed ahead. The final act. The final stand. Ordinary wasnt backing down. Not now. Not when they were this close. And in the center of it all Ethan Albarado sat still, a calm storm brewing behind his sharp, yellow-blue eyes. Waiting. Calculating. Ready to strike. ..... Meanwhile, on the other side of the court Vin Cruz stood, slightly hunched, his body trembling as the lingering effects of the third pill ate away at him. His white eyes gleamed under the harsh lights. His breath came out in ragged bursts. Around him, Venganza gathered tightly. Kaia Voltno, the real Kaiawas back now. Her usual bubbly psycho side, Zaia, had disappeared. The real Kaia stood behind Vin, her hands clasped nervously together, her face flushed with uncertainty. She couldnt even meet his eyes. The tension was suffocating. Zeke Monroe clenched his fists, his voice sharp and frustrated: "Tsk! Damnit! How are those bastards so good?!" He spat the words out, glaring toward Lucas and Ethan on the opposite bench. Dante Cruz, Vins cousin and the brain of the offense, adjusted his wristband, grimacing: "Theyre reading us..." "Hes reading us." "That Ethan Albarado... hes analyzing every single pattern we run." Dante looked at Vin seriously, worry flickering in his usually calm eyes. Silas Korrin, the tower of a center, crossed his arms. "What do we do now, Captain?" All eyes turned to Vin. The weight of the teamthe weight of everythingrested on his battered shoulders. Inside Vins mind, a primal voice screamed: (It hurts... my body hurts so damn much...) (Every breath feels like fire... every step feels like knives in my veins...) (But I need to win this... for them...) (I need to lead... no matter what.) Vin closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. His voice was hoarse but commanding: "Leave it up to me." The team froze, listening. Vin stepped forward, his hand trembling slightly at his side. "When I pass you the ball..." "Make sure youre open." "Trust me. Move like hell. Make them scramble. Ill find you." Zeke gritted his teeth but nodded fiercely. Dante adjusted his headband, eyes narrowing in determination. Silas cracked his knuckles, ready. Kaia, still hesitant, whispered, "Okay..." her voice barely audible. Vin looked at all of them, even as blood pounded in his ears. He forced a pained smile. (Ill carry the weight. Even if my body shatters...) (Ill make the play.) (Ill protect Venganza.) He turned his eyes back toward the court. Toward Ethan. The genius. The enemy. The storm was about to break. ... Whistle Time Remaining: 4:00 minutes The underground court buzzed faintly with the hum of the fluorescent lights above. No crowd. No cheers. Only the sound of harsh breathing, screeching sneakers, and the faint metallic creak of the rusted ceiling. The scoreboard flickered grimly: Venganza 22 Ordinary 20. The ball was inbounded to Vin Cruz. Vins movements were tight, sharp but the aftereffects of the pill gnawed at him. His dribble was precise but heavy, every step betraying a hint of pain. Facing him Ethan Albarado. Ethans yellow-blue eyes sharpened, calm as still water. (I cant outmuscle him...) (But if its about prediction... reading... outsmartingIm ten steps ahead.) Vins first step was devastating. A cannon blast off the line. Ethan shifted immediately, guiding Vins drive toward the sideline instead of stopping him outright. Vin accelerated. But before he could turn the corner Evan Cooper rotated from under the rim, cutting off his passing lane perfectly. Vins instincts screamed pivot. He spun, looking for another outlet Louie Gee Davas slid in, trapping him from the side. The walls were closing in. Vins eyes widened. (They... trapped me?!) He yanked a desperate pass behind his back to Zeke Monroe peeling out to the three-point line. But Noah White was already there, sliding with gritted teeth, stealing the angle. "Not today!" Noah shouted, intercepting it His fingers tipped the ball loose It bounced wildly. Lucas Graves lunged across the floor, slapping it forward. Ethan caught it already sprinting. The underground gym echoed with the thunder of his footfalls. From the corner, Kaia Volt (now Kaia, not Zaia) darted in, trying to intercept. Her body was fast but hesitant missing the crazy aggression of Zaia. Ethan feinted left, spinning tight at the last moment Kaia overran, skidding out of position. One defender gone. Ahead: Silas Korrin the massive wall at the rim. Ethan read it instantly. (Cant score directly...) (But I can pull him out.) Charging head-on, Ethan sold the drive eyes wide, body low Silas took the bait, bracing for the collision. At the last second Bounce pass razor sharp behind his back to Lucas trailing behind. Lucas caught it cleanly. He rose The ball arced. SWISH. One clean point. Venganza 22 Ordinary 21. Tie almost within reach. No screams. No celebration. Only the rapid heartbeat of every player echoing in the stale air. ... Venganza Bench Vin Cruz stood there, chest heaving, staring at Ethan across the court. His hands trembled not from fear, but from pain barely held in check. Zeke Monroe slammed a fist against the wall. "Tsk...! DAMN IT..." Dante Cruz rubbed his temples, scowling. "Hes reading us... every move, every tendency... its like were playing in slow motion for him." Silas Korrin lowered his head, voice gruff. "What now, captain?" Vins white-glazed eyes narrowed. (Pain... doesnt matter.) (I have to win... for them... for everyone.) He spoke, low and sharp: "Next time I pass you better be open. No hesitation. No fear." The rest of Venganza straightened. They understood. No more mistakes. No more playing safe. Vin Cruz would drag them across the finish line himself if he had to. .... Venganza possession. Vin Cruz took the ball, his eyes half-glazed with agony, but his pass was sharp A low, direct throw toward Silas Korrin at the elbow. Silas caught it, his massive frame rumbling forward with two heavy dribbles. Then A quick shovel pass out to the wing Zeke Monroe. Across him, Lucas Graves stood panting, chest heaving, legs screaming. (Im exhausted... shit...) Zeke smirked, bouncing the ball once, twice. "You used all that speed and strength earlier, huh?" he sneered, his voice low. "Now youre gasping for air like a fish outta water." Lucas raised his head, his yellow eyes burning. "I dont care if Im tired," he spat. "I just have to beat you." Zeke laughed short, mean. "BOLD STATEMENT!" he barked then exploded forward, a sudden speed blitz. Lucas gritted his teeth his body screamed to give in but he moved. Matched him. Pushed through the pain. (Just... one more play. One more stop!) As Lucas staggered to keep pace, a shadow flashed beside him. Louie Gee Davas sharp-eyed, steady moved to double-team. "Dont act tough, you idiot." Louie growled without looking at him. Lucas blinked. "Senior?" Louie smirked faintly. "Hmm... Senior idiot." Lucas broke into a grin, despite the burning in his lungs. "Thats better." Zeke cursed under his breath. "Shit! You fuckers... real pain in my ass!" He pivoted, spotting an open man Dante Cruz, waving for the ball. "PASS TO ME!!" Dante barked, slipping behind the defense. Zeke hurled the ball toward him But Ethan Albarado moved like lightning. Reading the pass before it left Zekes fingertips. He shot out, body cutting between the line like a knife through silk. "NOT ON MY WATCH," Ethan barked, snatching the ball clean out of the air. STEAL. Dantes mouth fell open. "What the hell?!" Ethan spun, tucking the ball close to his body. His sneakers screeched across the court as Noah White and Evan Cooper immediately flanked him, sealing off the sides. Dante whipped his head toward Vin Cruz, who was frantically trying to get open but (Tsk... Brothers locked down...) (ETHAN ALBARADO... you fucking monster.) Dantes fists clenched. Ordinary wasnt just surviving anymore. They were taking over. ... Ordinary Possession Fast Break The ball was in Ethans hands. The court blurred around him but his mind was ice cold. No crowd. No distractions. Just war. He sprinted forward, low to the ground, scanning the chessboard in front of him. Zeke Monroe gave chase from behind, swearing. Silas Korrin staggered to the paint, ready to contest. Dante Cruz tried to cut across. But Ethan wasnt rushing blindly He had already analyzed all of it. Every step. Every weakness. (Zeke overcommits on right cuts. Silas too slow on lateral defense. Dantes reaction delay: 0.4 seconds.) (Exploit it all.) Ethan snapped a glance sideways Lucas Graves dragging his exhausted body down the wing. Ethan faked a pass a twitch of his shoulders. Dante bit on the fake instantly. Trap broken. Ethan smirked swerving in a hard crossover, slicing between Dante and Silas like a scalpel. Zeke lunged but Noah White set a perfect back screen, blocking him just for a second Enough for Ethan to surge forward. Two steps. One more. He rose. Right in front of Silas, who roared and tried to contest But Ethan wasnt aiming for a flashy dunk. He floated a perfect layup soft, controlled just over Silass fingertips. SWISH. Score: 22 22. TIED. The underground gym buzzed with the crackle of tension. .... Meanwhile On the Venganza side, something snapped. Kaia Volt, panting, her hands trembling, felt the pressure crushing her chest. (No... no, I cant mess up... I cant mess up...!) Her pupils shook her mind splitting Until suddenly CHEERFUL LAUGHTER escaped her mouth. Zaia had awakened. "KYAAAHAHA! ITS BORING IF YOURE NOT CRAZY, RIGHT?!" Zaia spun on her heel, giggling maniacally. Zeke, Silas, Dante they all stiffened. They knew that laugh. And it meant chaos. .... At the same time Vin Cruz stood near the top of the key, his hands clutching at his head. His body was breaking down from the chemical inside him. Veins bulging under his skin. Pain lanced through his limbs like knives, but he ignored it. He couldnt lose. He couldnt lose. (WIN. WIN. WIN. WIN. WIN. WIN.) (NO MATTER WHATWE MUST WIN!) His eyes, already pale with the chemical effect, started to lose focus. Sweat poured down his face. His fingers twitched uncontrollably. ..... Ethan Albarado jogged back on defense, eyes locked on Vin. He could feel it. The mental collapse. (Now its starting. Theyre crumbling.) Ethans lips curled into a razor-sharp smile. He called out, loud enough for his team: "Stay calm. Dont rush. Theyre the ones falling apart. Not us." Ordinarys counterattack had just begun. And Ethan was leading them straight into checkmate. To be continue Chapter 83 - 70: White (26) Chapter 83: Chapter 70: White (26) The soft hum of the air conditioning and the rustle of papers filled the sleek, minimalist office of John White, CEO of White Corporation. Dressed in a pristine navy suit, he sat behind his mahogany desk, meticulously signing off a stack of contracts. The room was a testament to modern luxuryfloor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city skyline, and abstract art adorned the walls.? John glanced up, his piercing blue eyes meeting those of Eric Weck, his long-time assistant and most trusted confidant. "Still nothing?" Johns voice was calm, but the underlying tension was palpable. Eric hesitated, then stepped forward, holding a sealed evidence bag. "We found something, sir." John raised an eyebrow, setting his pen down. "What is it?" Eric carefully placed the bag on the desk, revealing a small, ornate pin inside. "Its better if I show you." John leaned in, examining the pin through the plastic. It was delicate, crafted in the shape of a lily, with intricate engravings and a tiny gemstone at its center. "Its a... pin?" John questioned, his brow furrowing. Eric nodded. "Yes, sir. Do you recognize it?" John shook his head slowly. "Its not one of my wifes. And certainly not something Aiden or Noah would wear." Eric took a deep breath. "We found it on the road, sir. Near the location where Noah was last seen." Johns eyes narrowed, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Are you suggesting this belongs to someone involved in their disappearance?" "Its a possibility," Eric replied. "The design is unique. Weve already started tracing its origin." John leaned back in his chair, processing the information. "Any leads?" "Preliminary research indicates its handcrafted. Possibly from a local artisan. Were compiling a list of jewelers and craftsmen in the area who might have made it." John nodded, his mind racing. "Good. Expand the search radius. Check neighboring towns as well." "Understood, sir." John stood, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the bustling city below. The weight of the situation bore down on him. "Eric, I want everything possible done to find them. No stone unturned." Eric approached, placing a reassuring hand on Johns shoulder. "Well find them, sir. I promise." John turned to face him, determination etched into his features. "I wont rest until my family is safe." .... Venganza Possession Zaia Kaias other self twirled across the half-court line, a wild grin splitting her face. Silas passed the ball to her cautiously. "Come on, come on! Lets dance~!" Zaia chirped, dribbling with chaotic crossovers. The atmosphere twisted no audience, no cheers just the echo of sneakers skidding against hardwood and the heavy sound of breathing. Vin Cruz, trembling, barely upright, called out hoarsely, "Zaia... hurry... win...!" Zaias bright eyes flicked toward Vin for a moment then she laughed again, unsettlingly cheerful. .... Meanwhile Ordinary was already moving into position. Ethan Albarado barked sharp orders: "Stay in formation! Cover passing lanes, not the ball!" Everyone nodded grimly. Noah White slid into position, body low, arms wide. He was breathing hard but differently than before. There was fire behind his gaze. A fire that hadnt been there for a long time. ... Flashback 3 Years Ago: Middle School Courts Noah used to fly. Not just fast effortless. Like the ball and the court bent around him. Crossovers so tight that defenders stumbled backward, reaching for air. Stepbacks so smooth that even coaches in the stands leaned forward, jaws slack. A prodigy. The kind kids pointed at. The kind parents whispered about. Coaches fought over him after games, shoving each other just for a chance to talk. Scouts real ones showed up with clipboards and wide smiles. "Hes the next star, no question." "Hes got it all. Handles, shooting, IQkids a lock for varsity by freshman year." Noah heard it all. Every compliment a spark, fueling the fire in his chest. (Im gonna be somebody.) (Im gonna make it.) And then It happened. One tournament. Quarterfinals. Crowd loud. Lights bright. Noah at the top of the key, sizing up the defender. He feinted right, spun left. Wide open lane. He exploded upward thinking of the roar of the crowd, the flash of cameras. Then A foot caught. A body twisted wrong. Gravity betrayed him. The landing wasnt just bad. It was wrong. A brutal snap echoed in the gym. The scream ripped from Noahs throat before he even hit the hardwood. For a moment, everything froze. The ball rolled across the floor, forgotten. Coaches sprinted. Players stood stunned. When Noah opened his eyes, blinking back the blur of pain, he saw nothing but the gym ceiling. (Why cant I move?) (Why does it hurt so much?) Later At the hospital, in a room that smelled like antiseptic and sadness, the doctors smiled with grim eyes. "Youre lucky," they said. "It couldve been worse." "With proper rehab, you might even play again." Lucky. Lucky? (Lucky people dont cry themselves to sleep.) (Lucky people dont lose everything.) Rehab was a slow, humiliating crawl. Learning to trust his leg again. Learning to walk without the fear of collapse. But when Noah came back to the court it wasnt the same. The cuts that used to slice through defenders were sluggish. The stepbacks that once froze crowds now awkward and slow. Worse than the pain was the hesitation. Every wrong step, every tiny misplant, sent a jolt of fear and lightning pain up his leg. High school came. New kids rose. New names filled the gym. No one asked about Noah anymore. He sat at the end of the bench, jersey loose, forgotten. He clapped when others scored. He smiled when coaches passed him by. (They dont remember.) (Maybe I dont either.) (Maybe the boy who used to fly is gone.) And somewhere deep down where even he couldnt quite reach Noah stopped believing, too. ... Present Day Hospital Room, 3 Years Later The hospital room was quiet, save for the hum of the ceiling light and the occasional beep of the monitor beside Aidens bed. Noah sat nearby, arms crossed, eyes distant. His brother bandaged lay propped up against the pillows. Just like Noah once did. He was lucky. Not broken. Just torn up ligaments, pride, maybe a little hope. Noah didnt say that out loud. On a small tray, Aiden twisted the cap off a tube of ointment and dabbed some on the side of his ribs. He hissed slightly at the sting, but said nothing. Noah glanced at him. "You shouldnt be moving around like that." Aiden didnt look back. "And you shouldnt still be limping," he shot back. "But here we are." Noahs mouth tightened. He looked away. The younger boy kept working in silence for a moment, then squinted at the limp in his brothers walk as Noah shifted in the chair. "Whats up with your knees lately anyway?" Noah didnt answer right away. He leaned forward and pulled something from his backpack. A small, dark glass jar. He held it up. "Its an ointment," Noah said. "Ethan Albarado gave it to me." Aiden raised an eyebrow. "The rookie guy? The one who dropped that... Last few days Noah gave a small nod. "Yeah. Him." He set the jar down next to Aidens. It looked different. Older. Homemade almost. The smell was sharp mint, camphor, something else. Aiden peered at it. "Whats in it?" Noah shrugged. "Didnt ask. Just... said it helps. Said he uses it before every game." Aiden blinked, then smiled one of those crooked, tired smiles that didnt quite reach the eyes. "And you believed him?" Noah looked at his knees. The same knees that had once soared. The same ones that betrayed him. He said nothing. Aiden sighed. Reached for the jar. Scooped out a small dab and handed it to Noah. "Use it on your knees, dumbass. Trust me." Noah stared at the jar in his hand. The texture. The smell. Something about it felt... different. (Why do I feel like... this matters?) (Why does this feel like the first time in years I might actually move without pain?) He rubbed the ointment between his palms. It was warm. Faintly electric. (Maybe this is nothing.) (But... maybe its a start.) He bent down. Slowly. Carefully. And for the first time in three years He touched his knees with hope. .... Back in the Game The air tasted like dust and electricity. Sweat clung to Noahs skin, but he barely noticed. Every ounce of focus was locked on Zaia. She bounced on the balls of her feet, movements sharp, jittery, dangerous. She wasnt just fast she was crazy fast, slicing through defenders like a blade through paper. But Noah Noah wasnt the same broken boy anymore. He was still a prodigy underneath all the scars and doubts. And he remembered. He remembered what it felt like. Not reacting late. Not flinching. Anticipating like breathing. Zaias eyes narrowed. She dipped low, her shoulder twitching a vicious crossover exploding toward the right. It was the kind of move that sent defenders flying, scrambling, guessing wrong. But Noah didnt flinch. He didnt bite. He slid sideways, clean and sharp, his sneakers squealing against the court. His body stayed tight, balanced muscles moving before his mind even caught up. For a split second, Zaias confidence cracked. Her eyes widened, just a flicker. (Got you.) Noah lunged forward, hand snapping out with perfect timing. The ball popped loose stolen clean, no foul, no mess. Zaia let out a screech of frustration, stomping the hardwood as Noah ripped the ball away. From somewhere behind him, Ethans voice rang out: "GO, NOAH! FASTBREAK!" Noah didnt think. He moved. He sprinted, heart pounding so loud it echoed in his skull. The court stretched ahead of him not like a battlefield anymore, but like a runway. The floor beneath his sneakers didnt feel like quicksand like it used to. It felt light. It felt like wings. The ball stayed low to the ground, almost glued to his palm, every dribble like a heartbeat. Silas bigger, stronger lunged to cut him off near the free-throw line. Noah didnt panic. He didnt slow down. Instead, he spun tight and perfect a blur of motion that left Silas grabbing at air. Two steps. The rim loomed overhead. Noah rose not hesitating, not second-guessing but rising, the way he used to before everything fell apart. The ball left his fingertips in a smooth arc, kissing the backboard softly. Time seemed to pause just for a heartbeat before it dropped through the net. SWISH. The scoreboard blinked: Ordinary 24 C 22. The gym erupted into shouts and applause, but Noah barely heard them. He was already turning, already sprinting back on defense. Grinning wide and raw through the sweat and the tears blurring his vision. For the first time in years, he wasnt surviving. He wasnt dragging his broken body across the court just to exist. He was playing. Truly playing. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ethan on the sideline. Ethan didnt say a word. Just smirked that cocky, knowing smirk and threw him a thumbs up. Noah wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his hand. He couldnt afford to cry now. Not yet. There was still a game to win. ..... Meanwhile... In the Control Room The low hum of machinery filled the underground control room, like a quiet storm trapped inside concrete walls. Red and green diodes blinked in steady patterns across the metal panels, as if keeping heartbeat for the room itself. Above, nine monitors lined the walls in a semicircle, surrounding a massive central screen broadcasting the game in crisp detail. Each smaller monitor displayed different angles: aerial drone footage, close-ups, bench cams even biometric readings from players. The air felt heavy, like a fuse waiting to be lit. In the center of it all sat Greg, slouched slightly in the command chair, fingers tapping the steel armrest, sweat glistening faintly on his forehead. Monitor 6 flickered. A man in a gray blazer, relaxed with his arms behind his head, leaned back in his chair. "Looks like this is the final outcome of your team, Greg..." Greg didnt look away from the screen. His eyes were fixed on Vin Cruz trembling, unstable and Ordinarys counterattack. Monitor 8 came alive. Drew, young and cocky, whistled. "(whistle)... Gregs teams gonna get smoked. Wait... are you in trouble now?" Gregs voice was low but sharp. "No. My team wont lose. My team... is strong." Monitor 1 the feed linked to an old man in a long chair, half-swallowed in shadow suddenly cut in. He was the leader, the oldest and highest-ranking among them. "You better handle the consequences, Greg... If you lose... and those kids win... and this gets out all this illegal shit? The blames on you. You let them play. You made the deal." Gregs jaw tightened. He didnt respond. His eyes drifted to Vin Cruz again. Then to Lucas. Then to Ethan, sprinting down the court. Monitor 2, where a blond-haired figure with a mask stared in silence, didnt speak. Just watched. Still as stone. Judging. Monitor 5 buzzed to life. A stern woman in her 50s, hair in a tight bun, glared at her screen. Her voice was like ice. "If this leaks, Greg... I swear Im going to kill you myself." Greg stood frozen. Didnt blink. Monitor 7 activated. A man in his early 30s, easygoing, tried to smooth the growing tension. "Come on now. Calm down, guys. Weve seen worse. Lets just" Monitor 3 cut him off. A man in his 40s, angry and flushed red, slammed his fist on the desk. "Calm down?! This bastard bet everything on these so-called ordinary kids! He promised to let them go if they win. And now theyre actually winning?! Fucking stupid." Gregs hands curled into fists on the armrest. Monitor 4, a woman in her 30s quiet until now tapped at a keyboard, data flowing rapidly across her screen. She was the one maintaining the public scoreboard for the secret viewers. With a flat voice, she said: "Heres the scoreboard." The numbers blinked onto every screen: ???? VENGANZA - 22 ???? ORDINARY C 24 Monitor 8 (Drew) whistled again. "Damn. Youre really screwed, Greg." Gregs throat tightened. But he still didnt move. He kept staring at the screen at those kids who werent supposed to be a threat. The underdogs. The ones he bet against in his heart, even as he using these kids to show off to these big shots. And now... They were winning. To be continue Chapter 84 - 71: White (27) Chapter 84: Chapter 71: White (27) Somewhere Deep Underground... The room was cold not because of the temperature, but because of the metal. Steel walls, steel floor, steel cuffs around wrists and ankles. Chains rattled softly each time they shifted, like ghosts whispering. Aiden White sat slumped against the wall, his arms bruised and bound behind his back. Beside him, his mother, Panny, was equally shackled. Her long black hair clung to her tear-streaked face, eyes red, heart aching. In front of them, a small flickering monitor was the only window to the outside world. The screen displayed the underground game but not just any part. Noah White. Sprinting down the court. Crossing defenders. Pulling up from deep. Bang. A clean three-pointer ripped through the net. Aiden lifted his head, eyes trembling. He whispered. "Noah... Brother..." His voice cracked under the weight of emotion. On screen, Noah smiled. Not a smirk. Not forced. But genuine happiness something Aiden hadnt seen in years. Beside him, Pannys lips quivered. She stared at the monitor, mouth covered by her chained hands, holding in a sob. Then... she broke. "He did it, Aiden... Your brother... Noah, he really" Tears ran freely down her cheeks. "Hes smiling. Its been so long... since Ive seen him like this..." She gritted her teeth, her voice trembling. "After the injury... he shut down. That light in his eyes it disappeared. He always blamed himself. Always. That he ruined his future, that he made me suffer..." Aiden looked at his mother. For the first time in a long while, there was hope in her eyes. And maybe... freedom on the horizon. "Mom..." Aiden said softly. "We... we could finally be released from here." Panny nodded, slowly. "We just have to pray." The chains still bound their bodies. But their hearts for the first time in a long time felt just a little bit lighter. And on the screen, Noah, carrying all their burdens in silence for so long, was finally moving freely again. ... Back to the Game 4th Quarter C 2 Minutes Left VENGANZA C 22 | ORDINARY C 24 The court had turned into a battlefield of broken bodies and willpower. The noise of bouncing balls and screeching shoes had slowed replaced by heavy breathing, stumbles, and the silent question on every players face: "Can we keep going?" ... Every member of Venganza was feeling it now. The second pill. The rush was over. The crash was here. Kaia wiped sweat from her brow, her vision flickering at the edges. Her gaze landed on Zeke the unbreakable brute now hunched, chest heaving. "Tsk..." Zeke growled, trying to mask his fatigue, but his legs were jelly and his arms dragged with weight that hadnt been there a minute ago. Silas staggered as if gravity had doubled. (Somethings wrong... This isnt normal... That second pilldid it mess with my balance?) ...... Dantes head spun. His vision was doubled. Sweat poured down his face like rain. He blinked fast, trying to lock eyes with Ethan. "Ethan!!!" Dante shouted, almost pleading. Ethan turned his head calmly, watching him. Dantes breath hitched the weight of pressure, the screaming in his body. He passed the ball towards Vin Cruz. And then he snapped. "How did you analyze us?! What the hell is your secret?!" Ethan didnt answer. Didnt need to. His silence was louder than any taunt. .... As the ball hit Vins hands, he took a single step. Then another. His legs gave out. "Gghkk!!" He dropped to his knees. His fingers clenched into the hardwood. A splatter of blood painted the court as he vomited violently. Gasps. Silence. Even the enemy froze. And Ethans eyes widened. He stormed toward Vin, fury and horror battling in his face. As Vin Cruz lay on the court, his body trembling not from fear, but from complete system failure. (The third pill... it was too much.) And now, as he coughed up blood and gasped for breath, everything felt like it was slipping away. Ethan knelt beside him, ignoring the stunned Venganza players. "I could help you with this." he muttered, showing the small container. The ointment. But the others didnt let him get closer. Dante stepped in, hand outstretched. "Stay back." Silas, Kaia, and Zeke now recovering, their bodies sweating but stable stood in his way too. Their eyes no longer filled with pride or hunger. Only worry. Regret. Shame. "Its fine..." Vin rasped. His voice cracked as he turned his head toward Ethan. "Let him be..." he whispered again, even as Dantes lips trembled and his fists clenched. "Brother..." Dante said, brokenly. Vins body barely moved now yet his gaze locked on Ethan. "Whats your... mo...t...ve...?" Vin asked, struggling to breathe. Ethans face twitched. He wasnt angry because they were enemies. He was angry because it didnt have to be like this. "Dont talk," Ethan said softly as he reached forward again, placing a hand on Vins shoulder. Vin stared into Ethans eyes and what he saw wasnt scorn. It was something deeper. A fury aimed at the system. At whoever let this happen. At whoever told kids they had to ruin themselves just to matter. And in that moment, Vin understood. As Ethan helping Vin he then shouted "Hey!! Fucker!! If you can still hear me STOP THIS FUCKING GAME!" "Your team cant handle this anymore! Theyll die out here!" His voice cracked. Not from fear but from anger. From desperation. .... The Ordinary team have their all Eyes on Venganza Louie, looked around at his teammates all of them are exhausted. His hands trembled. Not from fear, but realization. Lucas, barely standing, blinked the sweat out of his eyes and stared across the court. Even with his lungs burning, his legs twitching from cramps, he saw the cracks in the other team. Charlotte, sitting on the bench, clutched her knees, her fingers white with tension. Her eyes were locked not on Vin... But on Ethan his voice, his fire, his refusal to let even his enemies fall like this. Noah, catching his breath near half-court, watched in silence. He wasnt thinking of the score. He was thinking of the kids across from him... Just like him. Once hopeful. Now trapped in something too far gone. The referee didnt blow the whistle. But the air itself was frozen. This wasnt a game anymore. It was a wake-up call. for those higher up Then the rest of Ordinary approached slowly. Lucas Graves, limping, barely upright, was helped across the court by a pair of slender hands. "Sis..." Lucas breathed. Charlotte Graves had tears brimming in her eyes. She tried to act like it didnt shake her, but her voice cracked as she held him up. "You..." she said, voice trembling. "You did your best, brother." Lucas grinned weakly, blood on his teeth. "Did we win yet?" "Or are we still being dramatic?" Charlotte chuckled through her tears, gripping him tighter. .............. Monitor Room C Aftermath of Collapse The room, once filled with cold calculation and digital buzz, now simmered with tension. As the Big screen flickered with real-time footage: Vin Cruz, collapsed. Ethan helping him. Lucas being supported by Charlotte. Noah White, standing tall, tears in his eyes. They had won. Not with dominance. But with heart. Monitor 6, arms crossed, voice dripping with disdain: "Oh, so this is it... Looks like you lost, Greg." Monitor 8, the smug one, broke into uncontrollable laughter. "PfftttHAHAHAHAHA! I cant! I cant!" He started mimicking Gregs voice, mockingly deep and theatrical: "Beat them in a basketball match... and Ill let you all go. That includes Aiden and your mother, Noah White..." "PfftAhahahahaha!" Greg stood stiffly, his jaw twitching. His eyes were glued to the main screen. His lips barely moved. "They... they can... they can still..." But Monitor 1, the oldest bald, wrinkled, and deeply authoritative slammed his desk, silencing all other screens. His voice boomed: "Enough. You lose, Greg. You know what to do." Silence fell. Everyone turned to him. Monitor 4, face unreadable, simply stared. Monitor 7 and 3 nodded grimly. And then... Monitor 5 buzzed to life. A middle-aged woman with steel in her gaze and hair pulled into a flawless tight bun appeared on the screen. Her cold voice sliced through the room. "Greg. Remember what I said. Ill kill you myself if you ever bring damage to our organization or act without clearance." Gregs knuckles turned white as he clenched the edge of the desk. (These bastards... they never cared about me. About the damage the White family caused me...) His mind raged. (All they care about is order. Image. Obedience. Money...) He glanced sideways. The red emergency panel. The override door leading to the containment level. He gulped, breath shallow. His thoughts spiraled. Twisted. (I never meant to let them go...) (Not when those damn Whites took everything from me.) He stood up slowly. Cold sweat dripped down his spine. (If I cant win the game... Ill end it my way.) He reached for the override key. Somewhere below, Aiden White and Panny White remained chained. Unaware that the true danger... wasnt the game. It was Greg. The man who made the promise... And never intended to keep it. .... VENGANZA C 22 | ORDINARY C 24 The underground court felt like a world suspended in time. Fluorescent lights buzzed weakly above, casting long, flickering shadows across the polished black floor. Sweat and blood had been spilled on this court. Pride had been shattered, then reborn. And now, in the hushed tension, two battered teams stood facing one another warriors who had passed the edge of endurance. The scoreboard ticked quietly. But no one moved. .... Team Venganza stood huddled together, clearly shaken. Their bodies trembled from the side effects the cost of the pills theyd taken to fight tooth and nail. Though their immunity helped lessen the damage, their muscles still twitched involuntarily. Their lungs burned. Their vision blurred. The price wasnt fatal but it wasnt cheap either. Vin Cruz remained kneeling, one hand clutching his chest, the other pressing to the floor as if to ground himself. Blood still stained his lip. His younger brother, Dante, stood close by, pale and speechless. He didnt know whether to yell or cry. On the other side, Team Ordinary stood worn but upright barely. Lucas Graves leaned on his sister Charlotte, who was half-carrying him with that big-sister fire in her eyes. Evan Cooper, though calm as ever, had his hands on his knees, gulping air. Louie, their wild-card streetball genius, casually dribbled a ball between his legs like he wasnt half-dead from adrenaline. Meanwhile, Ethan Albarado knelt beside Vin Cruz, gently dabbing the blood off Vins chin with a cloth. His movements were calm, calculated, like someone whod been through far worse. Dante, fists clenched, looked at Ethan with confusion and disbelief. "How did you... analyze us back then?" he asked, voice raw. Ethan didnt look at him at first. Just stared at Vin. "You still askin questions?" he muttered. "Just answer me." Dante demanded. Ethan finally met his eyes. "I saw everything. Thats all," he said quietly. "Movements. Timing. Instinct. You were strong but predictable. And when I notice Vin movement thats when the day it completely changed your rhythm." Dante stepped back slightly, looking more awed than offended. ... Zeke, hands on his hips, looked toward Lucas Graves. His pride was shattered. His mouth was dry. He glanced at Charlotte. A fading scar was still visible on her forehead a mark from the second quarter when hed accidentally elbowed her chasing a loose ball. "Graves," Zeke said quietly, "...Im sorry. For what I did to your sister." Lucas blinked. For a moment, it looked like he might explode. But instead, he let out a long breath... and smiled a tired, golden smile that somehow still carried his usual sunshine warmth. "Its okay now... I saw you hesitate before that hit. You didnt mean it. he said. "And you apologized. Thats enough." He turned to Charlotte. "You good, sis?" Charlotte nodded. Her voice was calm, but firm. "I forgive you. But next time, Zeke I will dunk on your face just to even the score." Zeke laughed nervously. "Fair enough..." .... Nearby, Kaia the timid girl with tired, wide eyes crouched by the bench, rocking slightly. She mumbled to herself. "Zaia says we lost because of me..." Then, in a sharper voice higher-pitched, eerie: "I love ripping them apart..." Silas, sitting on the floor catching his breath, looked at her with worry. "Kaia... You okay?" Kaia blinked a few times and slowly nodded. "Yeah... Zaias just tired." Silas exhaled deeply, brushing sweat off his forehead. Even he the brute-force monster of the court had reached his limit. .... Then a sharp whistle pierced the strange silence. The referee, whod just been watching the whole display, arms folded, finally spoke up. His tone was flat "What are you all doing? The games not over. Theres still a minute and a half left." Everyone looked at the scoreboard. Still 1:30. Still time. Still a chance. But no one moved. The tension crackled not from rivalry, but from a shared understanding that the game, in its truest sense, had already ended. Vin, still on one knee, raised his voice hoarse, broken. "Lets all stop this..." He looked around at his team Zeke, Silas, Kaia, Dante. "...Im done." ..... Silence again. A deep one. Then Louie broke it, spinning a ball on one finger, shrugging with a cocky grin: "Well, I didnt think this is how itd end. But hey guess even beasts know when to call it quits." Lucas nodded solemnly. "We didnt come here to kill each other. Just to prove something. I think we all did." Evan simply whispered: "Yeah... its enough." ....... And for the first time since the match began Two teams stood as equals. Broken, but together. In the chaos, they had found something that mattered more than victory: Understanding. To be continue Chapter 85 - 72: White (28) Chapter 85: Chapter 72: White (28) "Well, I didnt think this is how itd end." Louie muttered, spinning the basketball lazily on one finger. His grin was crooked tired, but still full of spark. "But hey guess even beasts know when to call it quits." Lucas gave a solemn nod, brushing sweat from his temple. "We didnt come here to kill each other. Just to prove something." "I think we all did." Evan, cool-headed even in exhaustion, whispered with a rare softness: "Yeah... its enough." The tension finally loosened its grip on their shoulders. But then a shout cracked the calm like a whip "Its not the time to celebrate!!" All heads turned. Noah White stood frozen, eyes wide with dread. His voice was trembling, caught between panic and fury. "Mom!! Aiden!!" And there at the far end of the court stood Greg Tarrow. Disheveled, eyes sunken from obsession and hate, a shadow of the man he once was. His hand clutched a sleek black pistol. In front of him, his hostages Panny White and her younger son, Aiden. Pannys eyes brimmed with fear, shielding her son as best she could, her arms trembling. Gregs voice broke through the court like venom in glass: "You Whites... you made my life miserable!!" Everyone froze. Even the Venganza team stood paralyzed, unsure whether to act or breathe. Ethan stepped forward, fists clenched. "Bastard!! You said youd let us go if we won!!" Gregs lip curled into a smirk. "Yes... I said Id let you go. But I never said I wouldnt kill you all first." Noah clenched his fists. "Shameless bastard!!" Lucas shouted, his voice laced with righteous fury: "Why are you doing this to innocent people?!" Gregs eyes gleamed like a man past reason. He raised the gun and pointed it directly at Panny. "Innocent? Them?" he spat. "Theyre the reason everything fell apart. Their company outbid me. Their name ruined me and my family!!." Panny gasped, shielding Aiden. "Noah! Aiden!!" Aiden grabbed her hand, tears threatening to fall. "Mom!" Across the court, Vin and his team watched in horror. Vin stepped forward, his voice low: "Boss..." Greg whirled toward him, the pistol now shaking in his hand. "Shut up!!" he roared. "Trash. All of you." "Losers... as expected of talentless failures." He glared at them like fire, spitting every word like acid. "Even after I gave you my pills my legacy you still couldnt win. My pills werent the problem." "You were!!" Silas flinched. Zeke looked away. Even Kaias other voice, Zaia, went quiet. Greg wasnt just unraveling he was shattering, piece by piece, in front of everyone. He was no longer a mastermind. No longer a businessman. Just a bitter, broken man with a gun and nothing left to lose. It feels like Time slowed. Sweat dripped from brows. Breaths came shallow and fast. The gun... did not waver. And yet no one ran. They stood still as if the weight of every decision, every lie, every fight had finally led here. Noahs legs trembled, but he stood. He stood not because he was brave, but because he had to. Because he could no longer bear to see his little brother Aiden shaking behind their mother, or their mom shielding them both with her own fragile body. "I wont let it end like this..." Noah whispered to himself. His fists clenched at his sides as he took a step forward. But before he could say anything, someone else moved. Lucas Graves. His shirt soaked in sweat and blood from the earlier collision. His limbs barely holding him upright. But his eyes those warm, stubborn eyes still burned. He took a shaky step toward Greg, but just as his foot landed "Stop." Ethan Albarado stepped in front of him. Lucas paused, looking at the back of the boy who had once sat quietly on the bench. The same Ethan whod kept his head low... who now walked forward like the court belonged to him. "Ethan..." Lucas said softly. There was no resentment in his voice only trust. A strange, quiet belief that Ethan knew what he was doing. Ethan didnt look back. He walked with steady steps toward the barrel of the gun. "Greg," Ethan said coldly. "Put the gun down. This is over." Gregs hand twitched, lips curled in rage. "No..." he hissed. "No, its not over until you all pay. Until THEY pay!" But then, another voice called out. "Boss..." Vin Cruz. Staggered but standing tall. His left arm still shaking from the side effects of the third pill, his eyes reddened but clear. He limped forward and stopped beside Ethan. "Boss," Vin repeated, his voice low but firm. "You told us to be strong. To rise above being pawns. But what the hell is this?" Gregs hands trembled. "You too? After everything I did for you?! I gave you power! I gave you a purpose!" "No." Vin shook his head. "Im still Venganza. Im still your product. But Im also done being your excuse." The court had fallen into a silence so sharp it cut through the tension like a blade. The glint of the gun. The trembling fingers behind it. Greg Tarrows voice cracked through the quiet: "SHUT UP!!" His arm jerked forward the barrel now aimed straight at Noah Whites chest. Lucas moved instinctively. Evan stepped forward, steady but tense. Louie grit his teeth, fingers curling into fists. Zeke positioned himself beside Vin, shoulder brushing his friends in solidarity. Silas stood before Kaia, protective, while within her the softest whisper echoed like a growing storm: "Let me out," Zaia murmured from the dark corners of Kaias mind. But Ethan He didnt move. He didnt flinch. He took a step forward instead, eyes calm, voice colder than winter rain "If you want to shoot someone, Shoot me" Ethan said, "I know you hate me as much as you hate them." From behind him, a cry cracked the air "ETHAN!!" Charlotte screamed, voice filled with panic and disbelief. Gregs arm trembled. His knuckles went white against the grip. "I SAID SHUT UP!!" he barked again, but his voice had lost its edge. The pistol in his hand felt heavier than all his years of bitterness, as though his rage was trying to drag him down into the grave it had dug. Sweat poured down his temple, stinging his eyes. He blinked. And blinked again. The gyms dim lights glinted off the metal of the gun. The crowd of teenagers bruised, bloodied, united stared at him. But not with fear. With something else. Defiance. Conviction. The referee, one of Gregs own men, stepped forward now, pointing his own gun at the hostages. Two barrels. Two lives hanging by a thread. Gregs voice cracked: "You people dont know anything about meabout our history with these fuckers!!" he screamed, violently shifting the muzzle toward Aiden and Panny White. Panny pulled her son close. The boy barely 14, going on 15 looked at his mother. His voice was soft, quiet, too small for this cruel world. "Mom..." And in that fragile word, he said everything. Love. Fear. A goodbye, unspoken. Gregs finger began to tighten. He gritted his teeth, every muscle in his face twitching with hatred. "Adios, Panny White" Panny shut her eyes, lips trembling. And then A deafening crack. Gunfire. But not Gregs. The shot came from behind him. Gregs eyes widened in shock. A sudden, sharp burn bloomed in his chest. He staggered. He looked down. Blood. So much blood, soaking into his suit like ink through old parchment. Slowly, painfully, Greg turned toward the source. And therestanding calmly amidst the shadows, the barrel of a smoking pistol lowering Was a figure in a sheep mask. Silent. Unmoving. Time seemed to stop. Then "KYAAHH!!" Charlottes scream pierced the gym, raw and terrified. She stumbled backward, clutching her ears, her whole body trembling. Kaia fell to her knees, hands flying to her head, eyes wide in horror. Her breath caught in her throat. She couldnt scream. She couldnt even breathe. Her fingers clawed at the fabric of her jacket like it could shield her from the sound, from the world. Inside her mind, Zaia stirred, whispering through the cracks of fear: "They hurt you again. Let me out. Let me out, Kaia." Silas reached her before she fell completely, grabbing her by the shoulders, grounding her with a hand on her back. "Kaia, its okay. Youre safe. Im here." But Kaia couldnt hear him. The sound still echoed in her head, like her skull was ringing. Charlotte had dropped to her knees, arms around her head, lips whispering words without sound. The gunshot... it brought her back. Back to that hospital hallway. Back to her mothers sobs. Back to the sight of her fatherRoman Graves, silent and still, tubes snaking from his body. That beep-beep of the heart monitor. The coldness of it all. Lucas saw her. And for a moment, he wasnt standing on a basketball court. He was ten years old again, holding his elder sisters hand as they waited for news. He remembered the pale light. The silence in that hospital room. He remembered he cried and the way Charlotte wouldnt stop shaking. And now she was doing it again. "Sis..." he whispered, voice cracking. He knelt beside her, gently pulling her close. She flinched at first. But then her hands gripped his jersey, burying her face in his shoulder. "I cantLucas, I cant do this again" "Shh. Im here." His voice was soft but firm. He looked over her shoulderhis eyes locking with Ethans. Ethan... Still standing. Still calm. But his hands were trembling. He stared at the blood spilling from Gregs chest. He couldnt look away. Because even though Greg was the enemyeven though he deserved it There was something visceral about seeing a man fall like that. A man who was alive one second And bleeding out the next. Louie had backed away, pacing in a tight circle, fists clenched, mumbling: "What the hell, what the hell, what the hell..." Zeke was pale, like the color had drained from his face. Vin stood frozen, shoulders locked, mouth slightly open. He wasnt breathing. Even the refereeGregs mandropped his weapon, hands shaking, muttering apologies under his breath. He hadnt signed up for this. Nobody had. Then Ethans eyes went wide. His heart froze. "A... sheep?" "(Sheep? I knew this sheep guy from the novel Turning Point, but theyre not supposed to be here.)" Greg collapsed to one knee, gasping, his hand pressing against the wound, trying to stop the tide. He coughed once. Red spatters hit the ground. His voice was a dry rasp: "You..." The figure took a step closer, calm and deliberate. The sheep mask remained expressionless eerie in its silence, like a porcelain face pulled from some long-forgotten nightmare. Then, he spoke. "Take the blame, Greg." Gregs eyes fluttered, wide and wet with disbelief. His blood-slicked hand tried to push himself upright, but he only managed to shift a few inches. His mouth opened. "After all I did for the organization... after all I gave..." he rasped. "...Im just a pawn to be discarded." He swayed... then collapsed. Face-first onto the hardwood. A sickening, dull smack. Then came the sound of it. Drip. Drip. Drip. The blood crept outward slowly, pooling under him, tracing the faint cracks between the floorboards. The red of it looked surreal under the cold gymnasium lights too bright, too real. The only sounds now were the soft hum of the ceiling fixtures and the uneven, panicked breathing of the children left in the aftermath. No one spoke. No one moved. Panny stood there frozen, trembling. Her eyes locked onto Gregs. His face was turned toward her now, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, breath coming in short gasps. He blinked slowly... his lips trembling. "Why must I suffer for your greatness... why..." He cried. Pannys hands covered her mouth. Her tears were falling freely now, shoulders shaking. Her voice cracked as she whispered, "Greg..." Aiden clung to her side, trying to be strong but his body betrayed him. He was only fourteen. He cried. He couldnt help it. He wasnt ready to see someone die. Gregs eyes rolled up slowly. And then... They stopped moving. His body stilled. The last breath slipped from his lungs like the hiss of wind escaping a broken window. The Sheep tilted his head, almost... thoughtfully. "In the end... this is your story, Greg," he murmured. "A sad, melancholy ending." "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?" Lucas shouted, his voice hoarse and shaking not just with rage, but fear. That shot had reopened wounds that never healed. Roman Graves. His father. Another man, another tragedy. The Sheep turned toward him slowly, as if considering him for the first time. "Hmm. The Graves siblings." His voice dropped into something between curiosity and... amusement. Charlotte flinched behind Lucas, still holding onto him. She couldnt bear to look at the blood again. "Make him stop Lucas..." she whispered. "Please, Ethan... make him stop." Ethan stepped forward. Not angrily. Not bravely. Just steadily despite his hands still trembling. "Who are you...?" he asked, his voice raw. The Sheep turned his head toward Ethan. The mask made it impossible to read... but something about the silence that followed felt like he was smiling. Vin and the others the Venganza stood silent and tense, their teeth gritted, some averting their eyes. No matter how twisted Greg had become... He was still the one who brought them together. Still the man who gave them a purpose when the world gave them nothing. The Sheep looked over the group. "Dont worry. I wont kill you all..." His tone was dry conversational, like he was talking about weather. "After all, you won the bet against Greg." His eyes locked with Ethan again. "A bet is a bet, dont you think?" Then he turned. A step to the left. A gun raised again. Pointed this time... at the referee. Gregs last man. "Oh. I still have someone left here." BANG. The shot was sudden. Even louder than the last. The mans skull snapped backward, blood exploding across the underground gym wall. His body dropped with a sickening thud but then it twitched. Twitched violently. Slurging. Crawling. Like something unnatural was inside. The limbs jerked like puppet strings were tangled. His body writhed like maggots under skin as if something wanted out. Kaia shrieked. "STOP!!!" she sobbed, burying her face into Silass chest. Her nails clawed his hoodie. Charlotte screamed again. "No no noMAKE HIM STOP!" She could barely breathe, collapsing into Lucass arms again. Louie turned away and threw up into the corner. Even Zeke stumbled, muttering "what the hell..." under his breath, unable to process what he was seeing. The Sheep looked at it all like a child observing ants. Then, calmly, he stepped backward into the shadows. Just before disappearing, he turned back one last time. His voice was low but clear. "Lets meet again, Lucas Graves..." He turned his head. "...And Ethan Albarado." Then... he was gone. Only the blood remained. Only the silence. Only the trauma. To be continue The End of White arc Chapter 86 - 73: Aftermath Chapter 86: Chapter 73: Aftermath The gym was no longer a battlefield only a graveyard of echoes. The blood hadnt dried. The lights hadnt stopped buzzing. But the danger... was gone. The Sheep had vanished into the dark like a ghost, leaving behind a silence louder than any bullet. Lucas slowly lifted himself off the floor, helping Charlotte steady her legs. She was shaking, pale, her eyes still wide in disbelief. Neither of them spoke. They didnt need to. They could still feel their fathers memory bleeding through the image of Gregs body. Across the court, Noah broke into a run. "Mom!! Aiden!!" He dropped to his knees, arms wrapping tight around both. Aiden clung to his big brother like a lifeline, his body still trembling. Panny was silent, her hand gently resting on the back of Noahs head. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, but her expression was unreadable as if part of her had been left back in the past. Noah whispered, "Its over... its over..." But no one was sure if he believed it himself. Across the gym, Venganza gathered around their fallen boss. Greg lay sprawled awkwardly, like a puppet whose strings had been cut mid-sentence. His blood had soaked deep into the floor beneath him. His face... was turned upward. Tears. Not the kind shed from pain. But the kind that came from realization. The kind that came too late. Vin stared at him his fists clenched at his sides. He had always followed Gregs orders, even when they were cruel. Even when they made him question what they were doing. And yet... seeing him now... That face. It wasnt the face of a leader. Or a tyrant. Just a broken man. A child who had been consumed by rage until it became the only thing left of him. Vin knelt down slowly and murmured, "I didnt know you could make a face like that." Gregs face stiffening in death still carried that trace of a sad, ugly cry. Like hed finally realized he wasnt hated because he lost... But because he forgot what it meant to protect the ones he claimed to love. Dante approach Vin, said "Brother... He... He died..." as he cried his eyes filled with sorrow Silas, arms crossed tightly, stood to Vins right. Kaia was next to him, holding her injured arm, still sniffling but standing upright. And Zeke just looked down at the body. No words. Just heavy breath, a tight jaw, and blood under his boots. Kaia, voice barely audible, whispered, "Was this... really the same Greg who saved us?" Zeke didnt answer. Silas exhaled, slow and quiet. Then, in a voice steadier than it shouldve been, he said, "Yes." His eyes remained on Greg. "That Greg died here... filled with sorrow." No one spoke after that. Not Kaia, not Zeke, not Vin. The silence among them wasnt for Gregs honor... but for the tragedy that had once been a man who saved children and ended up broken by the same world he tried to fight. In the far corner of the gym, the blood still dripped. A constant, cruel reminder: no matter how many wounds you cover, some stains cling forever. From across the court, Louie and Evan exchanged a glance. They both understood without words, without motion that they couldnt stay back any longer. Together, they walked over to the Venganza team, joining the ring of silent grief. ..... Meanwhile, not far away, Ethan stood motionless. His fists were clenched at his sides. His eyes fixed not on Gregs body, but on everything. Everyone. The blood. The shaking breath of the children. The way Charlotte avoided stepping too close to any fallen body. How Lucass shoulders tensed whenever footsteps echoed too loud. Ethan could see it all. And he hated that he could. He hated that they were only here because of him. From the side, Lucas noticed him. Then Charlotte followed, her eyes still glossy but focused. Lucas stepped forward first. "Ethan... " Ethan turned slowly, his gaze distant, but his voice soft. "Are you all okay?" He looked at both Graves siblings with concern deeper than the blood on the floor. He already knew the answer but he had to ask. He needed to hear it from them. He needed to believe they were still sane after all of this. Lucas hesitated, glancing briefly at his sister before answering, "We... are." Charlotte nodded faintly. "Fine. Were fine, Ethan." It wasnt true. But sometimes lies are softer than truth and right now, they needed softness. Ethan gave a quiet nod, but pain carved into his face like a shadow. "Im sorry..." he said. "For dragging you into this. If I hadnt" Lucas stepped forward. "No. Dont say that." His voice was firm. "I followed you. I insisted. I chose this." Ethan lowered his gaze, jaw clenched. He didnt respond. But the guilt... never left his eyes. He turned from them and began walking slowly toward the center of the court toward the circle of mourning where Venganza stood around their fallen leader. Vin looked up as Ethan approached. So did Dante, whose face was stained with both dirt and tears. Gregs body still lay motionless, his blood darkening the wood below him. Dante stepped forward, desperate, voice rising with each word. "Ethan Albarado... you can save him, right?!" He grabbed Ethans shirt, eyes wild with hope. "You have that ointment the one Boss Greg talked about the one that heal my brother! Please! PLEASE!" "Use it on him!" "You can bring him back!!" Everyone turned toward Ethan. Even Vin, even Kaia, even Silas... even Zeke But Ethan didnt flinch. He only looked Dante in the eyes and said, quietly "Im sorry." A breath. A silence. Then: "I cant revive the dead." His voice was hollow. "The ointment only works on the living... once the heart stops its over." Dantes grip loosened. His fingers slipped from Ethans shirt. And he stumbled backward. "No... no... no..." He fell to his knees beside Gregs body, crying harder than any of them had ever heard from him. Vin looked away. Silas closed his eyes. Zeke said nothing. And Kaia just hugged herself tighter. Ethan stood there, shoulders heavy with guilt not even death could take from him. The worst part wasnt that he couldnt save Greg. The worst part was knowing that even if he had the power to turn back time... This ending might have still happened. And in the corner, the blood continued to drip. .... The gym was quiet now. Not the kind of silence that comforts But the kind that wraps itself around your throat. The air felt heavier than ever. The blood had stopped dripping... But its presence was everywhere. After minutes of mourning, people finally began to lift their heads. Lucas turned to Ethan, his voice fragile unsure, but needing direction. "What should we do now, Ethan...?" All eyes slowly drifted toward Ethan. He didnt answer immediately. He looked back at Gregs lifeless body, then at the blood-stained court, then at each face bruised, tired, shaken. So many of them still had tears drying on their cheeks. Finally, he spoke. "First... we get out of here." His voice was quiet, but clear. "This place isnt safe anymore." There was a collective nod, but not everyone moved right away. Kaia looked around, hugging her arms. "Where... where do we even go? What if that masked guy comes back?" Silas, always the realist, replied, "Anywhere is better than standing in the middle of a crime scene." "Hes right," Ethan added. "Well regroup outside. Somewhere open. Well check whos injured. And call for help." Vin slowly stood up, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket, still visibly shaken. "...We have... uh... vans parked in the back," he muttered. His voice cracked slightly whether from grief or shock, no one could tell. But Dante was still on his knees, unmoving beside Greg. His hands were clenched, knuckles white. "Were just... leaving him here?" he whispered, his voice trembling. Evan stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Dantes shoulder. "Were not abandoning him." His words were soft but firm. "Well come back. Well report this to the authorities. Greg deserves a proper burial... But right now, we need to survive. Thats what hed want." Across the room, Charlotte slowly walked over to Lucas, her voice barely a breath. "Lucas... I dont want to be here anymore... Lets go." Lucas then turned to Ethan. "What about you, Ethan...?" Ethan looked back at the group, his expression unreadable. "Ill stay here. On the underground. Just for a while." There was a beat of silence. Then... "Captain!! Are you crazy!!!" Louie blurted out, eyes wide. "Did you see what that Sheep guy did?! Hehe shot Greg! Then the ref! That guys insane!" His hands were shaking. Not just from fear but from care. Louie Gee Davas wasnt just any 13 years old kid. He looked up to Ethan. To him, Ethan wasnt just a captain he was family. "Why are you staying?!" Louies voice cracked, frustrated, brimming at the corners of his brown eyes. "You could get killed too!" Ethan didnt flinch. He stepped forward slowly and placed a hand on Louies shoulder, meeting his gaze. "Its okay." Just those two words. But the way Ethan looked at him the calm weight of his blue eyes told Louie everything. Ethan wasnt being reckless. He had to stay. Maybe for answers. Maybe for a reason only he understood. Louie stared at him, breath catching in his throat. He wanted to argue. "Captain..." In the end... he nodded. Even if it hurt. One by one, the others turned to leave. Evan, running a hand through his undercut hair, glanced at Ethan before motioning to the others. "Lets go, guys... Ethan told us to." But Lucas didnt move just yet. He stared at Ethan for a long moment. "...Make sure to follow us after this, alright?" Ethan gave a small nod. "I will." Charlotte, quiet but fierce, spoke without turning around: "Dont die. Or Ill kill you myself." That actually made Ethan smile just a little. And then, they left. The gym slowly emptied, the sound of footsteps echoing, fading into the distance. Ethan stood alone. Just him. The blood. And the silence. And deep in his chest... A burning weight he couldnt name. As Ethan remained, standing in the center of the now-empty gym, bathed in flickering fluorescent light and blood that had begun to dry. The air was heavy. Not just with griefbut with something else. Something he couldnt shake. He looked around slowly, then moved. Step after careful step, Ethan began walking across the underground facility, boots crunching on broken glass and debris. Shadows clung to the corners. His breathing was steadybut tight. He didnt know what he was looking for. But something was calling him forward. Eventually, he found it. A metal door, scratched and faded, tucked behind a collapsed bleacher wall. A sign above it, rusted but legible, read: CONTROL ROOM Ethan tried the handle. Locked. He stared at it for a long moment. Then slowly, silently... turned around. His eyes drifted back to Gregs body. Wordless, Ethan knelt beside him. Gregs eyes were still half-open, dried tears etched into his face. Ethan hesitatedjust a momentbefore reaching into Gregs pants pocket. His fingers wrapped around cold metal. A key. He stood, almost mechanically, and walked back to the control room door. Click. The door swung open with a groan, hinges screeching like something wounded. Inside: a dark, narrow room lit only by the soft blue glow of screens. Nine monitors. And one big screen. Arranged in a 3x3 grid. All blackexcept one. Ethan stepped inside. The air in the control room was colder than outside, like the past itself was preserved here. He walked forward slowly, eyes scanning the screens. "Nine of them... and 1 big screen?" Each monitor looked like it had been recording, or maybe observing. But what froze Ethan in place was the second monitor. It was still on. And someone was staring back. A man. Wearing a mask, with blond hair. The eyes behind the mask glintedcold and sharp. Then, the voice came. Low. Calm. And terribly aware. "I know you came, Ethan Albarado." Ethans blood chilled. He didnt move. The voice echoed, not through the speakersbut inside the room itself. Like it was here. He stared at the masked figure on the screen. The man tilted his head slightly, as if examining Ethan like a specimen. Ethan narrowed his eyes. "...Who are you?" For a moment, there was only the soft hum of the machines. Then, the masked mans lips curled into a subtle smile beneath the porcelain white surface. "We meet again soon... in the tournament." The words struck Ethan like a cold wind. He blinked. "...What?" But the figure didnt clarify. Click. The second monitor flickeredonce. Then, it went dark. Static. Black. Nothing. Ethan stepped forward quickly, as if getting closer would bring it back. "Wait!!" No response. His reflection stared back at him from the now-dark monitor screen. Just himand the questions burning behind his eyes. He clenched his fists slowly. The room felt colder than ever. "...Tournament...?" He looked back at the other eight monitors. None of them came back on. Whatever system controlled this place... it had already shut him out. He turned away, the word echoing again in his head. Tournament. To be continue Chapter 87 - 74: 4 Days Since the Incident Chapter 87: Chapter 74: 4 Days Since the Incident July 10, 2010 Location: 829 Grayson Highland Ln, Mouth of Wilson, VA 24363 3:00 PM The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting soft dappled shadows across the grass. The countryside air was quietpeaceful in a way that almost felt unnatural after what theyd been through. Charlotte and Ethan sat on the wooden steps of the porch, overlooking the gentle hills that stretched out in the distance. The cicadas hummed in the background, a slow rhythm that filled the silence. They hadnt said much at first. They didnt have to. Charlotte sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes distant. Ethan leaned back on his palms; head tilted toward the sky. "...It doesnt go away easily." Ethan finally said, his voice low, not forcing the conversationjust opening a door. Charlotte didnt answer right away. But she didnt close it either. "...Every time I close my eyes," she whispered, "I see Greg falling. I hear the shot. I hear that mans voice." Her hands trembled slightly. "I thought I was over what happened to my dad... but now..." Ethan turned his head slowly, looking at her. "Pain like that doesnt just... fade," he said gently. "You live with it. You carry it. But it doesnt have to break you." Charlotte glanced at himeyes red but steady. "You say that like youve... lived it." Ethan offered the smallest smile. "I have. In a way." She looked at him for a long moment. "Youre... different. Youre younger than me, but you feel older. Wiser." Ethan chuckled softly, though it carried a sad edge. "Ive seen a lot. Too much, maybe. But Im here now... and Im not going to run from any of it." Charlottes gaze dropped to her shoes. "...Its easier when youre around." He looked at her, a little surprised. She smiled faintly. "You get it. You dont push. You dont pretend like everythings okay." "...Because its not," Ethan said simply. "But it will be. Eventually." The wind rustled through the trees. For a moment, neither spoke again. Then Charlotte shifted slightly closer, resting her shoulder against Ethans arm. Not romantically. Not awkwardly. Just human to human. Wounded to wounded. Healing in silence. "...Thanks for being here." she said softly. Ethan nodded. "Anytime." From a distance, the sound of gravel crunching under footsteps broke the quiet. Lucas and Louie were returningLucas with a couple bottles of Gatorade, Louie holding bags of chips and a box of cookies. "Yo!" Louie called out, his voice carrying across the field like a trumpet blast. "Hope no one cried while we were gone!" Charlotte let out a short laugh and turned her face slightly, hiding her smile in her shoulder. Lucas rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Ethan turned to face them, his expression relaxed but focused. He extended a hand to Charlotte. She hesitated only a second before taking it, pulling herself up gently from the porch steps. (He really does feel older than the rest of us...) Charlotte thought as she dusted off her shorts. The four teens gathered under the shade of the porch roof, a moment of peace tying them together like unseen thread. Louie popped open his drink with a loud click and looked between Ethan and Charlotte. His curiosity lit up his round face. "So whats the agenda? What are you two talking about?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. Ethan gave a small, calm smile. He glanced at Charlotte briefly before answering. "Um... we were talking about... you know, the tournament." Charlotte nodded quickly, almost too quickly. "Yes, uh... the tournament." Louies eyes widened, mouth half-full of chips. "Oh shoot the tournament... Its July 28, right? The district tournament?" His gaze bounced between Ethan and Lucas now. Lucas nodded, brushing a hand through his dark hair. His eyes were focused, serious despite the casual setting. "Yeah... The first match hasnt been announced yet, but Coach said its definitely on July 28." Charlotte added softly, "So the mens division starts July 28." Lucas turned to her. "Yours, sis?" She replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Uh... were on July 29. The girls division plays the day after." Louie scratched his head, furrowing his brows like a kid trying to solve a math problem. "I still dont get the bracket of this thing. What even is this tournament? Likehow does it work?" He looked at Ethan with genuine confusion now. Ethans expression shiftedhe straightened a little and looked around at the group. His voice dropped into a slightly more serious tone, teacher-like. "Well, let me explain. First of all, we still have to go through the Local Trials. Thats the Qualifier Phase." The others leaned in slightly as he continued, Charlotte even sitting back down on the porch step, elbows resting on her knees. "Middle school teams from every city or district have to qualify through those. Only the top 2 teams from each local area move on to the next stage." Louie nodded slowly. (Okay... I can follow that.) "Then comes the Division Cup." Ethans voice stayed calm but steady. "Teams are split into four regional divisionsNorth, South, East, and West. Each division holds a round-robin tournament. The top 4 teams from each of those regionsso sixteen in totaladvance to the next stage." Louies mouth opened slightly. "Sixteen teams left by then... Damn." Lucas folded his arms. "Yeah, thats when it starts getting serious." Ethan nodded. "Right. Thats the National Sweet 16Knockout Stage. Single-elimination. You lose once, youre out. First its Round of 16... then Quarterfinals... then Semifinals... and then the Final match." Charlottes eyes were locked on Ethan now. She hadnt heard it broken down so clearly before. "And then what?" Louie asked, the excitement slowly lighting up his face. Ethans eyes hardened, a spark flaring behind his blue irises. "Then... The Grand Arena. The National Middle School Championship." He paused. "The Final 4 teams get to play in a huge arena. Crowds, lights, cameras. The games are broadcast live. College scouts, maybe even pro development scouts, come watch. Its the biggest stage for our age group." Louies jaw dropped slightly. "Thats... insane." Lucas clenched his fist, nodding. "Thats why Coach keeps saying this tournament is a turning point. Not just for our team... but for us." Ethan looked down, then back up at Lucas. (A turning point... Thats what we need right now. After everything that happened.) A breeze rustled through the grass as the four sat in quiet contemplation. The tournament wasnt just a competitionit was their escape, their path forward, their way to make sense of the chaos theyd survived. .... Meanwhile, at the White residence... The air inside the house felt heavier than usual, even with the soft hum of the air conditioning running through the vents. The quiet was unfamiliarno distant chatter, no clinking dishes, no blaring TV. Just the weight of thoughts and words unspoken. John White stood in the doorway of his sons bedroom, one hand resting against the frame. The man looked tiredhis blazer was off, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and the loosened collar of his dress shirt made him seem more vulnerable than usual. His phone, always buzzing, was nowhere in sight. For once, John had chosen to be here. Noah sat on the edge of his bed, one socked foot dangling over the side, the other lightly resting on the floor. A soft breeze from the window stirred the curtains, and a basketball sat by the foot of the bed, dusted but still well-used. John looked at his son for a moment before speaking, as if searching for the right tone. "I heard what your mom said... That youre going to play in your high school again." Noah glanced up. His dark eyes were thoughtful, slightly guarded. He shifted slightly, giving a small nod. "Yes... I uh... I think my ankles healed now. And I can play basketball again." John gave a small hum. "Ah... okay." The silence that followed stretched long. Awkward. Tense. (Noahs grown taller... when did that happen?) John thought. He could see himself in the boys jawline, in the stubborn set of his shoulders. Noah fiddled with the hem of his shorts, unsure of what to say. He didnt look directly at his father, but he didnt shy away either. John stepped a little further into the room, his voice quieter this time. "...Im sorry." It hung there, heavier than the silence before it. Noah blinked. The words didnt come out grand or dramaticthey came out simple. Plain. And somehow that made them feel more real. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Noah exhaled, almost a whisper. "Its okay... Father." There was no anger in his voice, but there was distance. Not from hatredbut from time lost. John gave a slow nod, as if acknowledging more than just the words. The tension in his shoulders eased a little, and he looked down at the basketball on the floor. (That balls been through more pain than Ive noticed... Just like him.) He walked over and crouched, resting a hand gently on the ball before standing up again. "If youre really going to play again..." he said slowly, "then I want to come see your first game." Noah looked at him then, really looked at him. "You will?" John nodded. "I missed enough already. I dont want to miss anything else." For the first time in what felt like a long while, Noah gave a small, genuine smile. ..... Meanwhile, in the kitchen downstairs... The sound of a spoon gently stirring a cup of chamomile tea filled the quiet space. Panny White stood by the sink, sunlight streaming in through the window and reflecting off her silver wedding band. Her shoulders were slightly tense, eyes distant as she watched the tea swirl. She hadnt touched her cup. Across from her, Aiden sat at the dining table, his elbows resting on the polished wood, a notebook in front of him filled with doodles, notes, and half-sketched basketball plays. His short curls were a little messy, and his face carried that signature teenage frownnot from anger, but from thought. He kept glancing at his mom. "Youre not drinking it," he said, his voice soft but cutting through the silence. Panny blinked and looked down at the tea like shed only just remembered it existed. "Oh," she smiled faintly, "I just... forgot." Aiden didnt respond right away. He just kept watching her. The way her hands trembled slightly when she brought the cup to her lips. The way her eyes never quite met his. "Mom..." She looked at him then. For real. "Yeah?" "Did you talk to Dad?" Panny set the cup down gently, letting the clink echo just a bit. "...Yes," she said after a moment. "Hes trying. Its hard for him to say things... but hes trying." Aiden gave a small nod, then went back to tapping his pen against his notebook rhythmically. The silence returned, this time softer, almost comforting. "Aiden," Panny said suddenly, her voice firmer, more present. He looked up. "I want you to know... what happened that day With Greg, with everything... I shouldve protected you and Noah better. I shouldve gotten you both out faster." Aiden shook his head. "It wasnt your fault, Mom. None of us saw that coming." She sighed. Her lips trembled just a little. (She blames herself. Every second.) "But I froze," she whispered. "When I saw himGregI didnt know what to do." Aiden stood up slowly and walked over to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "But you still fought. You still protect me remember" Panny closed her eyes, one hand gently resting on the back of her sons head. "...I just keep seeing it in my sleep. That mask. That gun. The screaming." Aidens voice was muffled in her shoulder. "Me too." They stood like that for a long time, wrapped in shared silence and the faint creak of the old wooden floor beneath their feet. From the hallway upstairs, Johns footsteps could be heard. He didnt interrupthe only stood at the edge of the staircase, watching his wife and son through the bannister, unseen. To be continue Chapter 88 - 75: One Week Later Chapter 88: Chapter 75: One Week Later Location: Lucas Gym Time: 7:50 AM Date: July 13, 2010 C Monday The sun hadnt even climbed fully over the Virginia hills, but Lucas Gym was already buzzing with the rhythm of basketballs slamming against hardwood. The sound of sneakers squeaking, grunts of effort, and the whistle of drills echoed within the tall brick walls. Ethan Albarado stood at the entrance, the gym lights casting long shadows behind him. His eyes scanned the court with quiet intensity. Its been one week since Gregs tragic death. One week since Ethans late-night encounter with that masked figure on the monitorthe one who promised theyd "meet again... in the tournament." But today wasnt about cryptic threats. Today was about the team. The Vorpal Basket squad. He watched them warm up from a distance, noting each movement, each improvement. He had poured everything into them this past week. Sweat. Hours. Harsh truths. And growth. .. Evan Cooper Point Guard The steady engine. Still the most dependable. Since training with Ethan, Evan had sharpened like a blade. His passes now carried intention, his crossovers sliced deeper, and his pull-up jumper found the net more often than not. He barked out plays with new confidence, no longer just executinghe was leading. ... Josh Turner Shooting Guard Still wrapping his leg, still limping slightly, but not broken. Ethan didnt go easy on him. Reps. Form. Footwork. Mental reps again. Joshs shot was tighter now, his form more compact. He hit corner threes like clockwork during scrimmages. There was fire in his eyes again. He didnt want sympathyhe wanted minutes. ... Aiden White Small Forward Lighter on his feet than a week ago. His explosiveness wasnt back, but his hunger was. Ethan helped him center his balance, calm his thoughts. Now, when Aiden pulled up for a jumper, there was intent, not hesitation. And on defense? He made up for lost bounce with sharp reads and fast hands. ... Ryan Taylor Power Forward Once a wild, uncoordinated ball of energy. Now? Focused. Ethan drilled footwork, taught him angles, and forced him to watch tapes late into the night. His post moves werent pretty, but they worked. He boxed out harder. Crashed the glass smarter. And for onceRyan didnt just play hard. He played smart. .. Brandon Young Center A walking mountain who used to trip over his own feet. No more. Ethan had simplified things: Catch. Turn. Finish. Protect. Repeat. Brandons hands were better now. His screens were cleaner. And every block he made in practice came with a growl. The team finally had a rim protectorand Brandon knew it. .. The Bench C Forged in Fire Coonie Smith Still flashy. Still unpredictable. But Ethan slowed him downjust enough. Now he picked his spots, stopped turning the ball over every other play, and started making smarter reads. He was still chaosbut now he was controlled chaos. Jeremy Park The silent worker. Ethan had pushed him harder than anyone else, and it showed. He boxed out. Made sharp cuts. Set perfect off-ball screens. He didnt scorebut coaches smiled when he was on the court. Glue guy. Kai Mendoza The wildest of them all. Ethan had made him redo drills until his legs gave out. Now, Kai played like a live wire on defense. Still unpredictablebut now he dove for loose balls, disrupted passing lanes, and brought energy that could flip games. Used rightKai was a grenade. .... And then, standing off to the side, finishing a set of drills with sweat dripping from his brow... Louie Gee Davas #5 Just 13 years old. But his streetball skills were raw brilliancehandles like an artist, creativity like a storm. But this week, Ethan taught him control. How to read spacing. When to pass instead of pull up. How to make his flash serve the teamnot just his ego. And Louie absorbed it. Not easily. Not quietly. But surely. He still spun defenders, still threw no-look dimes, still scored with circus layups. But nowhe listened. "Youve got the gift," Ethan told him during one midnight workout. "Im just here to make sure it doesnt burn you alive." ... And finally... Lucas Graves #10 Ethans eyes landed on him last. The anomaly. The unpredictable variable in a world, the protagonist in this world. 13 days since gaining Absolute Mimicry. 13 days of evolution. Lucas wasnt just copying anymore. He was creating. Ethan had watched it happen in real-timemoves borrowed from legends, stitched together in real-time like a jazz solo. Now? Lucas could go from a William hesitation to an Iverson euro, finishing like Jordanall in a single play. His first stepa blur. His handlesunreadable. His staminaunrelenting. And then there was the new skill Ethan had only seen once... Iverson Speed Burst. When it activated, Lucas would vanish from defenders eyes. Like pressing a turbo button. But it came at a cost. Each use took a toll. "(Hes still human,)" Ethan thought. "(But that power is turning him into something else...)" .... Ethan exhaled, finally stepping fully into the gym. The team noticed him. Ball movement slowed. Eyes turned. Lucas smiled faintly from the far end, dribbling without looking down. Ethan nodded at them all. "(This...)" he thought, "(We are now ready.)" He clenched his fists slightly. "This... is the beginning of something bigger." ....... Meanwhile... Location: Crescent Ridge C Chicago Raptors Training Facility Date: July 13, 2010 C Monday | Time: 8:20 AM Sweat clung to the court like a second skin. The sound of squeaking sneakers, bouncing balls, and echoing grunts filled the polished gym floor. Jalen "Flash" Carter sprinted from end to end, dribbling two balls at once while dodging cones. "Cmon, Flash! You aint fastyoure just loud!" Tyrese Lang called out from the sidelines, leaning lazily against the wall. Jalen didnt miss a beat. He crossed both balls behind his back, spun around a cone, and shouted back, "Loud enough to drown out your bricks!" Tyrese snorted, picked up a ball, and casually swished a corner three. "That was for the haters," he muttered. (Okay... that was clean) Jalen thought, trying not to let his surprise show. He fumbled one of the balls mid-dribble and quickly recovered. Malik Ryker walked past him holding a resistance band like a belt. "Stop flirting and get back to work." "Whos flirting?" Jalen shot back. "If I was flirting, Id at least comb my hair." Tyrese, without missing a beat: "Youd need hair for that." Everyone in the gym groaned. "OOOH! Cooked you!" Malik laughed, high-fiving Tyrese. (Why do I even talk to them?) Meanwhile, at the far end of the court... Zion Vale stood silently, watching tape on a tablet while shooting one-handed free throws with his left hand. The ball bounced off the rim, but he didnt look up. "Zion," Jalen called out, "You even miss like its on purpose." Zion didnt blink. "I calculated the bounce trajectory. I wanted a 47 angle to test backspin impact." The gym fell quiet for a beat. Malik scratched his head. "Man, just say you missed." ........ Jalen "Flash" Carter C PG (#2) Age: 15 | Height: 62" Lightning quick. The playmaker. The firestarter. He dribbled in rhythm, eyes narrowed, as if already seeing the future. "(I cant wait for the game,)" he thought, ball bouncing steadily. "(Ive been waiting for this.)" Then he turned to his brothers-in-arms: The Starting Five Tyrese Lang C SG (#3) "The Ghost Shooter" Age: 16 | Height: 61" Moves like fog. Shoots like a machine. Can erupt for 10 points in a flash. 3PT Shooting: 23 Off-ball Movement: 21 Composure: 20 Malik Ryker C SF (#9) "The Lock" Age: 16 | Height: 510" A defensive wall with spring-loaded legs. Can shut down your best scorer, then dunk on the break. Defense: 22 Driving/Dunks: 21 Lateral Speed: 20 Zion Vale C PF (#8) "The Chessboard" Age: 15 | Height: 511" Sees three moves aheadoffense or defense. Smooth and surgical. Basketball IQ: 23 Passing: 21 Versatility: 22 Kobe "Tower" Morales C C (#11) "Twin Pillar" Age: 16 | Height: 64" The anchor. Quiet. Cold. Dominates the paint with calm cruelty. Shot Blocking: 23 Post Defense: 22 Rebounding: 21 Jalens eyes swept over them. His team. His weapons. His war-ready brothers. He spun the ball in his hand once, then caught it. "Alright everyone," he said, voice steady and sharp. "Lets do this." ...... Meanwhile Inside Lucas Graves Gym C 12 noon The overhead lights buzzed softly above the polished hardwood floor, casting a clean reflection of the half-folded futons, the stacked cones in the corner, and a massive Vorpal Basket banner pinned over the far wall. This wasnt just a gymit was home, headquarters, and hideout all in one. The scent of teriyaki chicken, garlic rice, and a faint trace of sweat-soaked effort clung to the air like an invisible curtain. A folding table, dented from years of use and covered with half-eaten takeout containers, stood at the center. The Vorpal Basket starters crowded around it, legs draped over benches, chairs stolen from mismatched corners of the gym, chopsticks clicking in sync like a strange percussive beat. Lucas Graves sat cross-legged on the bench like a monk mid-meal, mouth full of rice. "Dont drop rice on the court," he mumbled. "My sister will make us run suicides just for disrespecting the floor." Ethan, sitting across from him, raised an eyebrow and gave a short chuckle. (Thats not even a joke. She will.) Louie, digging into grilled vegetables, looked up, unimpressed. "Youre eating with your shoes on, and Im the problem?" Lucas paused mid-chew, then slowly stared at his own feet. (...Hes got a point.) Ethan smiled and nodded, stifling a laugh. The quiet bond between themrooted in grind, rivalry, and respectwas always charged with playful chaos. Ryan Taylor poked at his vegetables like theyd committed a crime. "Why we always eating healthy here? I swear this broccoli is looking at me." Aiden White leaned back, laughing. "It is looking at you. Thats guilt. It knows you tried to trade it for an energy bar earlier." Josh Turner smirked and sipped from his bottle. "You know Louie got a meal plan from a nutritionist, right? I heard they analyzed his blood and told him hes 70% Gatorade." Louie casually wiped his mouth. "Wrong. Im 70% ambition, 30% pettiness. Yall better be ready for Saturday." Evan Cooper, still chewing, leaned back in his chair. "Why, you transforming into buff boy or something?" he said with a smirk. The whole table burst into laughter. "Dont tease him too much." Ryan wheezed, clutching his stomach. As he laughs the most out of them. "Youre the one who laughed the loudest!" Louie pointed with a chopstick, grinning. The bench players were posted near the wall, finishing their food a little less chaoticallybut still very much part of the rhythm. Kai Mendoza, arms crossed, stood like a commander surveying a war table. "Ethan," he called out. "Are the team were fighting on July 28 confirmed yet?" Ethan wiped his mouth with a napkin and nodded. "Well... Coach is on it now." Coonie, his arms covered in tape from earlier drills, rolled his eyes. "That pig of a coach is always incompetent." Jeremy Park raised a hand dramatically like a philosopher. "Indeed. What can we do? He is... a pig coach." Laughter erupted again, even from the starters. Lucas nearly choked on his rice. "Jeremy! You cant just... bro..." (Im gonna get kicked out of my own gym at this rate.) Brandon clapped once. "If he hears this, hell make us run drills till our legs fall off." Louie, still chewing, shrugged. "Im good. Ill just Gatorade-rehydrate my ambition." The air stayed thick with food, jokes, and a sense of tense relaxationa calm before the storm. Somewhere, deep beneath the joking, every player felt it. To be continue Jalen "Flash" Carter C Point Guard (#2) Height: 62" Age: 15 Team: Chicago Raptors (Pro Youth Division) Position: Point Guard Nickname: Flash ... Background: Jalen Carter isnt just a phenomhes the standard. Born with absurd talent and an obsessive work ethic, Jalen became a household name before he was old enough to drive. Hes played against pros in private runs and dominated nationally ranked high school seniors since he was 13. Scouts, coaches, and players alike speak of him in the same breath as generational names. Raised on the West Side of Chicago, Jalen learned to combine survival court instincts with disciplined fundamentals. Every move he makes is intentional. Every step, calculated. Hes not just flashyhes efficiently devastating. No wasted motion. No fear. Just pure, overwhelming control. [Core Attributes C All Above 20] (Note: 20 is considered peak pro. Jalen breaks that ceiling.) [Offensive Attributes] Shooting Accuracy: 23 Unreal precision. Can hit from anywherefadeaways, logo threes, one-footed sidestep jumpers. Double teams dont matter. Layup Skill: 24 Think Kyrie Irving at his absolute bestthen elevate it. Air control, ambidextrous finishing, and split-second improvisation that stuns defenders. Dunk Skill: 22 Despite his height, he defies gravity. Posterizes centers, launches off one or two feet, and finishes with power or finesse. Dribbling Skill: 25 Unstoppable. Handles like water. Moves so sharp they look like illusions. Can break double-teams with nothing but footwork and a flick of the wrist. Passing Skill: 22 Sees plays five seconds ahead. Can thread passes through needles, bounce alley-oops off a defenders shoulder, or fire full-court bullets with either hand. .... [Defensive Attributes] Defense: 21 Locked-in every possession. Can guard multiple positions. Reads offenses like a coach and moves with surgical precision. Blocking Ability: 20 Can reject shots from behind or time blocks perfectly on floaters and layupseven against bigger players. Steal Skill: 23 Predicts dribble patterns, intercepts passes, and pokes balls loose with invisible hands. Makes turnovers look inevitable. ... [Physical Attributes] Stamina: 24 He doesnt just play the whole gamehe controls it from start to finish without a dip in energy. Endurance: 22 Can go game after game, minute after minute, under full pressure. Recovery rate is freakishly high. Speed: 25 His nickname "Flash" is literal. First step explodes like a missile. End-to-end, hes a blurand yet totally under control. Signature Ability: "FLASH WORLD C Overclocked Tempo" Jalen manipulates the flow of the game in ways that feel unreal. When activated, Flash World causes the game to feel like its moving in slow motion for Jalenwhile his body operates at hyper-speed. Effects: ? Enhances entire teams timing, making passes and plays feel automatic. ? Opponents experience reaction delayhes always one decision ahead. ? Vision expands to cover full-court awareness. ? Boosts dribbling, passing, and speed to peak +5 levels during activation. Chapter 89 - 76: Brandon is Missing? Chapter 89: Chapter 76: Brandon is Missing? Location: Oak Hill Academy Gym Time: 7:50 AM Date: July 16, 2010 C Thursday Three days had passed. Ethan Albarado stood near the edge of the basketball court, wiping sweat off his forehead with his wrist. The sound of sneakers sliding on the polished wood, basketballs bouncing, and teammates talking filled the morning gym. The team was already halfway into warmups. But something felt off. He looked around. Lucas was working on his shooting. Louie was stretching. Evan, Aiden, Josh, Ryanthey were all moving, talking, breathing. Except one. (Brandons still not here.) Ethan stepped forward and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Wheres Brandon?" Everyone stopped. Lucas looked at the others, then slowly shook his head at Ethan. "Its been three days," Ethan said, looking serious. "He hasnt been at school or training." The rest of the team looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Brandon, Evan, Aiden, Josh, and Ryan were third-years, the upperclassmen. Ethan, Lucas, Kai, Jeremy, and Coonie were second-years. Louie, the youngest, was a first-year. Even though Brandon was quiet, he was always therealways showing up, always doing his part. And now, nothing. No texts. No calls. Not even a sign he was okay. "What happened to him?" Ethan asked again, this time softer. Ryan Taylor slowly raised his hand. The usual playboy smirk was gone. He looked serious. "Ryan?" Ethan said. Ryan rubbed the back of his head. "I think somethings up with him." Josh raised a brow. "Why do you say that?" Ryan looked at the floor as he spoke. "Weve been friends since we were kids. Id know if something was wrong with him. Two days ago, I texted him. Nothing. Yesterday, I even went to his house. His mom said he was resting but... she wouldnt let me in." The room fell quiet. (That doesnt sound right...) Ethan thought. Josh frowned. "He could be sick or something." Aiden shook his head. "If he was, Coach wouldve told us by now." "Unless Coach doesnt know either," Evan said. Lucas spoke next, his voice low. "Last few days... he was acting strange. He stayed behind after practice. Just sat on the bench, staring at the floor. He didnt talk to anyone." Ethans eyes narrowed. (Thats not like Brandon at all...) Louie walked up, arms crossed. "So, what now? We just wait? Pretend hes gonna show up tomorrow?" "No," Ethan said firmly. "Im going to his house after practice. I need to know whats going on." Ryan stood up too. "Ill come with you." Kai looked worried. "Should we tell Coach?" Ethan shook his head. "Not yet. Lets find out whats really going on first." Jeremy sighed. "Still, somethings not right. I can feel it." The rest of the team slowly went back to warming up, but their energy had changed. They moved slower. No one laughed. Even the sound of the basketballs bouncing felt heavier than usual. And deep in everyones mind was the same question: (Where is Brandon?) ..... Meanwhile the room was dark except for a sliver of light creeping through the blinds. Brandon sat on the floor beside his bed, knees pulled tightly to his chest. His arms were wrapped around himself, body trembling. Sweat dripped from his forehead even though the room was cold. He rocked slightly. "Nononono... no no no..." His breath hitched. His eyes were redhe hadnt slept in days. His body was in Oak Hill, but his mind was still stuck in that moment. "It wasnt real... I didnt see that... I didnt see him..." His nails dug into his own arms. "Why was Dad there?" He shut his eyes tight, but the images kept flashing. The van. The kids. The clipboard. His father. "Nononono..." Then everything stopped. Silence. Stillness. And then ... FLASHBACK Brandon jogged back into the dim gym, his hoodie still damp from practice earlier. "Damn... left my phone again," he muttered. The facility was quiet now. Most of the lights were off, just a soft blue glow from emergency exit signs. He walked past the court, heading toward the locker room. Then Clack. A sharp metallic sound from the corridor near the basement. He froze. "Weird... that came from Dads wing." He moved slowly, careful not to let his footsteps echo. A side door had been left slightly ajar, the hallway beyond dim and cold. He peeked insideand stopped breathing. Four men in black jackets moved down the corridor like shadows. One wheeled a gurney. On ita kid. Unconscious. A younger player. Two more kidsmaybe orphanswere being led by force. One sobbed softly. Then, a voice. "All three for tonight. Prep them for transfer." A clipboard was handed off. Brandons eyes went wide. The man taking the clipboard was someone he knew. His father. Calm. Silent. Nodding to the masked men like this was routine. "No... no no no" "Dad?!" His whole body locked up. He couldnt move. Could barely breathe. "What is this? What is he doing?" Clink! His elbow brushed against a metal rack behind him. The noise echoed. One of the masked men turned. "Did you hear that?" "Go check." Brandons heart exploded in his chest. "RunRUN" He bolted. Out the hall. Out the door. Out into the night. Didnt look back. Didnt stop. Didnt breathe until he was blocks away. After that day... He never went back to the gym. Never spoke to his father. Barely spoke at all. Because what he saw changed everything. ........ FLASHBACK C 3 Days Ago Time: 9:41 PM Location: Brandons Room Brandon sat in the dark, only the pale glow of his laptop screen lighting his face. His hands trembled slightly as he typed. (I have to know what hes doing. I have to find proof.) Tabs opened one after anothercompany records, donation reports, building permits, encrypted files linked to the gyms back facility. All under different names. But the connections were there. Brandon leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Why is a private transport company registered to a fake name... that links back to Dads foundation?" A folder popped open. Invoices. Security clearance documents. Even medical forms. (These kids... theyre being experimented on?) His blood went cold. He clicked through photosimages of the facilitys lower levels. The basement he wasnt supposed to know existed. Security logs showed names. Schedules. Transfers. Thensomething worse. "Shipment: July 14th C 3 subjects C Estimated Arrival: Site E." "Site E?" Brandon whispered. (Where are they taking them?) A knock at the door made him flinch. He slammed the laptop shut. His mothers voice came from the hallway. "Brandon? Are you okay?" He didnt answer. (Maybe ....She knows... Or not I dont know anymore) (Im alone in this.) He opened his closet and pulled out a box. Insidea small camera, a recorder, and an old ID badge he once borrowed from his father during a "Bring Your Kid to Work" day. (If I can just get back in... if I can catch them in the act...) His eyes burned with exhaustion and anger. (Then maybe someoneanyonewill believe me.) .... FLASHBACK C One Night Ago Time: 10:12 PM Location: Private Athletic Facility (Back Lot) Brandon crouched low behind a rusted generator near the loading dock. The camera in his hand shook slightly. He whispered to himself. "Come on... just show up." And thenheadlights. The same black van. Same men. Same silent coordination. He hit record. They opened the back of the van. Three kids. Drugged? Sleepy? He zoomed in, recognizing one of thema younger boy who trained at a nearby youth center. (Hes not supposed to be here.) Then the voice again. "Transfer confirmed. Site E security cleared." A masked man turned. Behind him... His father stepped out from the shadows. Calm. Focused. Holding a clipboard. Just like before. Brandon clenched his jaw. (I trusted you... and this is who you really are.) He pressed the camera tighter to his chest and slowly backed away, disappearing into the darkness. .. Back to Present Location: Brandons Room Time: 9:00 AM C July 16, 2010 Brandon sat in the dark, his bed unmade, a small lamp casting faint shadows on the walls. The blinds were drawn tight, blocking out the sunlight. His room felt suffocatingair stale, heavy, almost suffocating. He hadnt left his room in days. His hands were shaking, and his chest was tight. He stared at the floor, unable to focus on anything but the thoughts circling in his mind like vultures. (What if theyre watching me right now? What if they know I saw them?) His heart raced. He felt it thudding against his ribs like a drumbeat. Every sound in the house, every creak in the floorboards, every passing car outside made his head spin. (What if Moms involved in this too? Maybe shes protecting him. Maybe Im all alone in this.) Brandon closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they only grew louder. His fathers face flashed in his mindcold, unbothered. The man who had raised him. The man who was now responsible for... this. The nightmare hed seen. The kids. The black van. The papers. He dug his fingers into the palms of his hands, trying to ground himself, but the fear... the paranoia... it wouldnt stop. (I cant trust anyone.) The door creaked open. Brandon didnt even look up. His mother stood in the doorway, her voice barely a whisper. "Brandon... you need to eat. You havent left this room in days." He flinched at the sound of her voice, but he didnt respond. Didnt even lift his head. She stepped closer, her shoes clicking softly on the wooden floor. "Were worried about you. Please, just talk to me. Whats going on?" Her words were kindgentlebut Brandon couldnt hear them. He didnt want to hear them. Every time he saw her, every time she looked at him, he saw only the same fear and guilt in her eyes. (She knows. She has to know.) He pulled the blanket tighter around him, curling into himself, trying to shut everything out. His body was shaking with the weight of it all. The truth. The fear. The constant pressure that clawed at him from all sides. (If they catch me... If I say too much... If they find out I know whats really happening...) His mind raced faster and faster, his breath becoming shallow and uneven. Every breath felt like it was suffocating him. His mother paused, watching him carefully. She didnt push this time, but the silence between them stretched onuncomfortable, suffocating. "Im not going anywhere, Brandon," she said softly, her voice cracking with emotion. "But you have to talk to me. You have to let me in." Brandon didnt answer. Didnt even move. She sighed, but there was no anger in itonly sadness. She turned and left, closing the door softly behind her. The room fell back into its heavy silence. The pressure. The constant weight pressing down on him. (I cant go back to school. I cant go back to normal. Not after what I saw. Not after what I know.) Brandon closed his eyes tightly. (If I go outside... if I leave this room... Ill be exposed.) The fear curled up in his chest, squeezing tighter and tighter. It was too much. Too much to handle. He couldnt breathe. The world outside felt like a threat now. His fathers face haunted him, the images of the kidsthose kidsetched into his mind like scars. (I cant trust anyone.) Brandons body shook violently as he pulled the blanket tighter around himself. His breathing was ragged now, desperate, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldnt escape the darkness that was closing in on him. (Im stuck in here. Trapped in this room. And What if I leave... theyll find me. What if They know.) To be continue Chapter 90 - 77: Anxiety Chapter 90: Chapter 77: Anxiety Date: July 16, 2010 C Thursday Time: 4:00 PM Location: The Young Residence, Sycamore Lane C Mouth of Wilson, VA Ethan stood outside the Young residence, a modest two-story house tucked behind rows of maple trees and white fencing. The late afternoon sun was hot on his neck, but the warmth did nothing to ease the chill crawling through his gut. Beside him were Lucas, Evan, Ryan, and Louiequiet, tense, and waiting. None of the other Vorpal teammates were with them. They had wanted to come. Insisted on it. But Ethan had said no. Not this time. "Just us," he told them earlier. "Were not trying to overwhelm him. We just need to check on Brandonquietly." Now they were here. But the visit wasnt going as planned. Naia Young stood in the doorway, arms crossed tightly, her expression guarded and composedyet tired. Her black curls were tied into a bun, her nurses uniform still creased from a long hospital shift. A woman who knew how to stay calm under pressure. A woman who had seen too much and wasnt about to let more chaos into her home. "I know you boys care about him," she said gently, her voice low but firm. "But Brandon doesnt need visitors right now." "Please, Ms. Young," Ethan said. "We wont stay long. We just want to talksee how hes doing." She shook her head. "He barely talks to me, and Im his mother. You think hell open up to five of you?" Lucas stepped forward. "Were not trying to push him. Just let him know hes not alone." Her eyes softened at thatbut only slightly. "I know your hearts are in the right place. But sometimes, giving someone space is the best thing you can do." Evan frowned. "We just thought" Naia interrupted. "No. Means No!" The boys went quiet. Ryan looked down at the porch steps. Louie kicked a loose pebble in silence. Ethan opened his mouththen closed it. Naia studied them a moment longer before speaking again, gentler this time. "Look... I assure you Hes not in danger. Hes just.... And Im doing everything I can to help him do that safely. So pleasedont take it personally. You boys showing up like this? That tells me everything I need to know about what kind of friends Brandon has. Good ones." Lucas blinked hard and nodded. Ethan sighed. "Well leave, then. But if theres anything he needsanything at allwere here. Even if its just to sit in silence with him." Naias eyes lingered on Ethan, then moved to the others one by one. She nodded slowly. "Ill tell him that." The boys turned and walked back toward the sidewalk. The front door closed behind them with a soft click. As they walked away from the Young residence, no one said a word. But the silence wasnt empty this time. It was filled with something unspoken. Something like resolve. ....... After minutes of Ethan and the others leaving The front door had barely closed before Naia turned toward the staircase. She climbed it slowly, each step echoing against the quiet wooden panels, carrying the weight of a mothers love and caution. At the top of the stairs, she hesitated outside Brandons roomstill shut, still silent. She tapped lightly. "Your friends visited you today," she said, her voice soft through the door. "Dont worry. I told them to leave so they wouldnt disturb you." There was a pause. Then Click. The door creaked open. Brandon stood there, eyes wide, hair messy, his breathing shallow. His voice cracked through clenched teeth. "What did you say, Mom?" Naia blinked in surprise. "You... finally opened the door." Brandons voice rose. "Thats not what I asked. My friends cameand you made them leave?" Naias expression tightened. "I thought you didnt want visitors. Thats what you told me just yesterday" "That and this are different!" Brandon snapped, his voice trembling, torn between anger and fear. She stepped back slightly. "Why are you shouting at your mother? Where did you learn to speak like that?" Brandons chest heaved as the emotions poured out. "Im afraid, okay? Im paranoid. My anxietys getting worse. I cant sleep, I cant think. I dont even know if I can trust what I see anymore." His eyes darted around the hallwaythen settled on the floor. "I mean... who wouldnt be like this after what I saw...?" Naias face softened instantly. She stepped forward, her voice quiet now. "What did you see...? Tell me, Brandon." Brandon gripped the doorframe as if it were the only thing holding him up. His lips trembled, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Father..." .... Meanwhile The five boys walked in silence. Shoes scuffed against the pavement. The sun, still hanging high, cast long shadows across the road. But the warmth of the afternoon didnt reach them. Ethan glanced over his shoulder at the Young residencecalm, still, peaceful. Too peaceful. Louie broke the silence first, frowning. "I dont get it. Why didnt she let us see him? We came all the way here..." "She said he wasnt feeling well," Evan muttered, kicking a loose stone. "Didnt sound like she wanted us around, though. Not at all." Lucas narrowed his eyes. "She was hiding something." Ryan, walking in the back, scratched his head. "Its not our business to push a kids mom, is it?" Ethan stopped walking. The others turned. "No," he said calmly, "its not our job to disrespect her. But it is our job to be there for Brandon." Then He looked at the ground, fists clenching slightly. "Brandons not the type to just vanish. Somethings wrong. And were not turning our backs on him." Lucas nodded slowly. "Yeah. This... isnt like him." "Do you think she was lying?" Evan asked quietly. Ethan looked forward again, voice low but firm. "No. She wasnt lying." He paused, his brows furrowing. "She was protecting him from something." Louie frowned. "Like what?" "I dont know yet," Ethan said. "But whatever it is, it scared Brandon enough that he hasnt even texted us. Not once." The boys continued walking again, each deep in thought. As they turned the corner, out of sight from the Young house, Lucas looked at Ethan and said, "So what now?" Ethan didnt hesitate. "We give him a little time. But just a little. If he doesnt show up to practice... were going back." ........ In the cold glow of flickering fluorescent lights, a line of children unconscious, restrained, and marked were being transferred onto metal carts. Monitors trailed beside them, displaying pulses and strange waveforms. Gerald Young, silent and composed in a black coat, stood watching as his men moved the children into Facility 3. He nodded toward the head of security. "Take them to the lower levels. The Boss wants results." As the men followed orders without hesitation, a new presence stepped into the room soundless, yet heavy. "Hows the progress, Gerald?" The voice came from behind. Gerald didnt need to turn. He already knew who it was. A man in a long white coat, hands tucked behind his back, wore a sheep mask pristine, unsettling. Its blank eyes seemed to mock the horror unfolding around them. Gerald turned his head just enough. "Its going smoothly, sir. Facility 3 is prepared." The masked man stepped forward, glancing at one of the children. This one wasnt unconscious. A boy no older than 13 twitched and groaned. On his bare back, mechanical veins and glowing lines had been fused directly into his skin. The device pulsed with a dull red light. Gerald added quietly, "This is the kid..." The sheep-masked man tilted his head. "Ah. So thats the cause of the problem." Then Gerald thought about his son. He saw himrunning. His son might have seen it. He wasnt supposed to be there, Gerald thought, panic tightening in his chest. But if he saw that... the kid I kidnapped. Brandon... The masked man said nothing for a long time, then turned. "Then you know what to do. We cant afford loose ends." Gerald hesitated. Just a second. "...O..Okay" To be continue Chapter 91 - 78: Syndicate Arc (1) Chapter 91: Chapter 78: Syndicate Arc (1) Hello everyone, Before we jump into the action-packed Tournament Arc, we need to take a detour into the Syndicate Arc. This arc is crucial because it directly ties into what happens later in the tournament, and understanding it will set up everything that comes next. In this arc, we learn about Kairos Valen, the son of a powerful figure in the basketball world, who has been kidnapped. But this isnt just any ordinary kidnapping. Kairos has been taken by a dangerous individual known only as Sheep. Sheep isnt just a person; hes someone who has been working with a secret organization that manipulates events behind the scenes. What does this have to do with basketball? Sheep and his organization are involved in fixing games and controlling the outcome of major tournaments. They use underground basketball leagues to train and test players, manipulating their abilities and turning them into powerful pawns. Some of the players who will eventually appear in the tournament may have been influenced or even controlled by The Organization. ... ... ... Date: July 16, 2010 C Thursday Time: 7:00 PM Location: The Young Residence, Sycamore Lane C Mouth of Wilson, VA The door creaked open. Gerald Young stepped into the house, shaking off the evening chill as if it were nothing. He loosened his tie slow, casual, practiced. Then he saw them. Naia stood at the edge of the living room, arms crossed, face tense. Brandon, just a few feet behind her, stood frozen at the base of the staircase, his hand still clutching the rail. His eyes locked on Geralds like a ghost had walked through the front door. Geralds smile came easily. "Oh... whats that look? Is this supposed to be a surprise?" "I do live here, remember?" His voice was light, but something in the air tightened the moment he stepped inside. Naia didnt move. Her eyes didnt blink. "Tell me, she said coldly. Gerald tilted his head. "Tell you what?" Naia took a step forward. "Where were you last night?" Gerald chuckled, hanging his coat like he hadnt noticed the tension threading through every breath in the room. "Working. As always." Brandons voice cracked out. "You were near the old tunnel. Near the river bend." Geralds eyes narrowed slightlyjust for a second. It passed. "That so?" he said smoothly. "And where exactly were you that youd know something like that?" Brandon clenched his fists. Naia turned to look at her son, startled by the detail. Then she turned back to her husband. "Why would you be near there, Gerald?" His smile twitched. "Theres a facility there. Construction site. Boss asked me to check on it. Thats all." Naias voice lowered, colder now. "Construction...? Or something else?" A long pause. Brandon whispered, barely audible: "You took them..." Geralds smile finally cracked. His expression stiffened, lips flattening. "Brandon," he said, tone firm, like he was scolding a child. "I think youre letting your imagination run wild. Its that internet, isnt it?" But Brandon wouldnt look away. Wouldnt blink. "I saw you," Brandon muttered. "I saw what you were doing." Naia took a breathstaggered, as if her knees had nearly buckled. The living room was silent. Gerald stared at his son, then at his wife. Then Gerald moved past them toward the kitchen, acting like nothing had been said. Like his son hadnt just accused him of something unspeakable. "You shouldve eaten by now," he said, opening the fridge. "Naia, did you cook anything?" Naia didnt answer. She stared at him like she didnt recognize the man in front of her. Brandons voice cut through the room, low but full of anger. "Why arent you denying it?" Gerald paused. His hand froze on the refrigerator handle. He didnt turn around. "Excuse me?" "You didnt say I was wrong. You didnt call me crazy. You just... moved on." Gerald closed the fridge slowly. He turned around, his face unreadable. "Because I dont entertain nonsense," he said flatly. "Not in this house." Naia stepped in then, quietly but firmly. "Tell me what youre involved in, Gerald. Look me in the eyes and tell me nothings wrong." He finally looked at her. For the first time... no smile. "I provide for this family. Everything we have, everything you have, is because I do what Im told. Thats how the world works." Brandons voice cracked. "You kidnapped those kids..." Gerald snapped. "You dont know what you saw!" He slammed a fist against the countertop the sound jolting through the room like a gunshot. The plates in the dish rack trembled. Brandon flinched, but didnt step back. "You dont understand whats at stake," Gerald growled, stepping toward him. "You dont understand what happens when you cross these people. Ive kept you both safe." Naia raised her voicestronger now, her eyes filled with disbelief. "By hurting children?! By working with them?! What the hell have you done, Gerald?!" Geralds hands trembled slightly at his sides. "Mind your words..." he warned again, but his voice was softer nowstrained. He looked at Naia, at Brandon, then away, like he couldnt bear to face either of them. Brandons voice cracked, choked by emotion. "Why, Dad? Why would you help people like them?" Gerald shut his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, they glistenednot with guilt, but with something like defeat. "Im doing this for us," he muttered, voice barely audible. "So we dont end up like the rest... discarded. Forgotten. Left to starve while they feast." Brandon took a step forward, fury boiling in his chest. "You kidnapped that kid. The one from the gym... I saw him! He looked right at me like he was begging me to helpand you helped the people who took him?!" Geralds breath caught. He knew exactly which boy Brandon meant. The boy the Sheep wanted. "They noticed him," Gerald said quietly, not meeting their eyes. "That boy... hes the son of someone powerful. Naias voice broke. "Gerald... please. Why would you let this happen? Why would you let them take a child?" Gerald looked up slowly, finally facing the mother of his childthe woman who once believed in him. "Because they said if I didnt help them... theyd take Brandon next." The room went dead silent. Brandons breath hitched. Naia took a step back as if slapped. Geralds eyes shimmered. "They knew everything. About us. About Brandons school. His routine. They even knew he stays after practice some days. They showed me pictures." His fists clenched. "I begged them to leave him alone. I said Id do anything. And they listened." Brandon stood frozen. Naias voice came out like a whisper, haunted. "So you gave them someone elses child... to save your own." Gerald looked down. "Wouldnt you?" Brandons face twisted in anguish. Naia looked at Gerald with serious eyes "No... no, I wouldnt." Naia wiped her face, her hands shaking. "We were supposed to protect people, Gerald. Thats what being a parent means. You dont sacrifice someone elses child to save your own." Gerald didnt answer. The weight of what he had donewhat he had chosenhung thick in the air. Finally, Brandon whispered: "Im going to make this right." Gerald looked up in alarm. "What are you saying?" Brandon turned toward the stairs. "If no one else will stop them... I will." Naia reached out but stopped herself. She let her son go towards upstairs. Gerald stepped forward, panic in his voice now. "Brandon, listen to meif you go looking for them, theyll come for you. And next time... I might not be able to stop them." Brandon didnt look back. "Then Ill stop them first." And with that, he vanished up the stairs, leaving Gerald and Naia standing in a house that no longer felt like home. And for the first time, Gerald Young realized he wasnt the protector anymore. He was the danger. .. Location: Albarado Residence, Mouth of Wilson, VA Ethan sat at the edge of his bed, the soft hum of the ceiling fan doing little to quiet his thoughts. His basketball shoes were still on, scuffed from earlier practice, but he hadnt moved since they came back from Brandons house. His mind was racing. Brandon was acting off. Too off. He remembered the concern in Naias eyesnot nervous motherly concern, but the kind of fear that came from hiding something. He opened the notes app on his phone. The screen was slightly cracked in the corner, but it still worked. He began to type. > Strategy: Reach Brandon Young C Visit when his mom isnt around? C Loop Lucas in? C Try a back route? Roof? C Write a note and slide it under his door? C Find someone Brandon would listen to... He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "Theres gotta be a way." Suddenly, his phone buzzed, vibrating sharply against his thigh. Incoming Call: Unknown Number Ethans eyes narrowed. He didnt recognize the number, but something in his gut told him this wasnt spam. He hesitated... Then swiped Answer. "Hello?" There was silence for half a second. Then a voicenervous, quiet, and shakybroke through. "E-Ethan...? Its me..." Ethans eyes widened. "Brandon?" Brandons voice crackled through the phone, sounding muffled, like he was hiding under somethingmaybe blankets or a vent, trying to stay quiet. "II dont have much time," Brandon said, his words rushed, almost frantic. "My mom thinks Im sleeping, but... listen. Somethings happening. They took someone..." Ethans heart skipped a beat. "Brandon, slow downwhat do you mean they?" Brandons voice trembled with a mix of fear and urgency. "Theres a kid, Ethan. Hes not from around here. I saw him... Kidnapped" His voice was barely a whisper now, as if he feared even saying it out loud would make it more real. Ethans pulse quickened, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. The static on the line made it harder to hear, but Brandons words were clear enough to send a chill down his spine. "What? What do you mean?" Ethan demanded, his mind spinning, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. Brandon hesitated for a moment, taking a shaky breath before he continued, the urgency in his voice almost palpable. "Remember why I didnt go to school those three days in a row? I couldnt go, Ethan... because I saw something. I saw what my father did." Ethan froze. His hand gripped the phone tighter, his stomach tightening with dread. "Yeah, I remember. But... what do you mean? What did you see?" Brandons voice was barely audible now, barely above a whisper. "I saw them... I saw my dad with those people. The ones who are doing this. They were... kidnapping kids. And that kid, Ethan. They" Brandon broke off, his voice hitching as if the memory was too much to bear. "Theyre hurting him, and my dad is involved. I saw it with my own eyes." The words hung in the air like a nightmare coming to life. Ethans mind raced. Brandons father was involved in something horrific, something that made Ethan question everything he thought he knew about this novel. "Brandon... where is the kid now? Do you know where they took him?" Ethans voice was steady, but inside, his heart raced. To be continue Chapter 92 - 79: Syndicate Arc (2) Chapter 92: Chapter 79: Syndicate Arc (2) The words hung in the air like a nightmare coming to life. Ethans mind raced. Brandons father was involved in something horrific, something that made Ethan question everything he thought he knew about this novel. "Brandon... where is the kid now? Do you know where they took him?" Ethan asked. He kept his voice level, but his other hand was already scribbling furiously into his notebook. His heart was pounding. Brandons breathing stuttered on the other end. "I dont know... I dont know where they took them. But when Iwhen I stole files from my dads laptop, I copied them onto mine. At first I didnt understand what I was looking at. But then..." He took a breath. "I found images. Grainy, but real. A facility... underground levels. There were roomscellsequipment I dont even recognize. The basement of some place he wasnt supposed to know existed. But he did. And he was there." Ethan sat up straighter, his body coiled with adrenaline. "Security logs showed names, Ethan. People. Transfers. Everything. And one line stood outit was in red." Brandons voice lowered like he was reciting something burned into his memory. "Shipment: July 14th C 3 subjects C Estimated Arrival: Site E." "Site E?" Ethan repeated. He underlined it in his notebook, twice. "Yeah..." Brandons voice was shaky again. "Thats all it said. No location, no map coordinates. Just that. I dont know what Site E is. Only my father would." Ethan leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, trying to make the puzzle pieces fit. July 14th. That was just a few days ago. Which meant... those kids were already there. Or worse, already being used. "Three subjects," Ethan murmured, repeating the words. "Not just one kid..." "Theyre taking more," Brandon whispered. "My dad is involved; it means its organized. Big. Not just a bunch of criminalsthis is a system. A syndicate." Ethan didnt answer right away. He could feel something shifting beneath the surface of this world, like a storm building. This wasnt just about a missing kid anymore. This was something deeper, something the novel version of this world had glossed overor maybe something the protagonist, Lucas, was never meant to uncover until it was too late. But Ethan wasnt Lucas. "Alright," Ethan said finally, his voice cold with purpose. "We find Site E. We find those kids. And we find out whos really behind this." Brandon hesitated. "What if... what if my dad tries to stop us?" Ethans grip on the phone tightened. "Then he becomes part of the problem." A pause. Brandon spoke quietly, almost like he was confessing. "Ethan... I dont know if I can face him again. Not after what I saw." "You dont have to," Ethan said. "Not yet. But I need those files. Every single one. Ill figure out what Site E is." "Ill send them tonight," Brandon said. "Just promise me something." "What?" "If I dont answer next time... if something happens to medont stop. Dont let this go." Ethans chest ached, but his voice was steady. "I wont. I swear." The call ended. Ethan stared down at the word Site E glowing on the page. Something terrible was happening behind the scenes of this world. Something the story had never prepared him for. And now? Now it was up to him to bring it to light. .... Back to Brandon Brandon ended the call, but the tremble in his fingers remained. He lay in the dark, tucked beneath a pile of blankets, his heart hammering against his ribs. The blue glow of his laptop screen lit up the corner of his room as he lifted it carefully from beneath the bed. He flinched at the soft ding of the power-up chimetoo loud in the dead silence of the house. He glanced at the door. Still shut. His mother was a light sleeper. If she woke up and found him awake at this hourafter what had just happened with Gerald downstairsthered be questions. And no answers he could safely give. His password screen blinked on. Brandon typed it in quickly, double-checking that his VPN was active. He couldnt take any chances. His dad wasnt just some thug on the streethe had training. Military background. Taught Brandon to scrub metadata off photos by the time he was 10. If Gerald ever suspected Brandon had copied those files, itd be more than just grounding. The desktop loaded. Brandon opened the hidden foldernested deep in an obscure directory, disguised as a system log. Inside were hundreds of files: surveillance screenshots, encrypted messages, and a set of labeled folders. One was titled "Black Ridge". Another simply said "Transfers." But the one he clicked on was labeled: Project Eden / Site E. He scanned it quicklythough hed already read it multiple times. There were security logs with lines like: SUBJECT 004 | Bio-augmentation incomplete | Status: Unstable SUBJECT 006 | Neural interface initiated | Prep for Phase 2. Transfer to Site E approved C pending arrival confirmation. And then... images. Blurry. Dim. But real. A boy in a cold roomchained, hunched, with a thick metallic brace fused into his spine. Tubes. Wires. The expression on his face was dazed... but his eyeshis eyes were still human. Still aware. Brandon swallowed the bile rising in his throat. I have to send this. He opened his emailbut stopped. Too risky. His dad might have keyloggers or alerts. Instead, he opened a secure file transfer app Ryan had once installed on Brandons computer during a late-night gaming session, back when they still trusted the world around them. Back when they were just two kids trying to get better at basketball. Brandon zipped the files into an encrypted archive and created a custom passphrase: WingsCollapse13 a phrase Vorpal members would recognize. A reference to a move Brandon had failed to master in their last training. Something obscure, but unmistakable. He launched the file transfer, attached a note: "If you get this, be careful. Its real. I saw him. I saw everything. C B." The progress bar crept forward. 1%... 12%... 47%... A creak outside his door. Brandons breath caught. He froze, hand on the lid of the laptop. Silence. Then footstepsfaint, retreating. He waited. Thirty seconds. One minute. The file hit 100%. Transfer Complete. He shut the laptop, yanked the charger, and stuffed the device back under the bed beneath a towel. Then he slid back under the covers, his hands trembling. Outside, the suburban night was still and quiet. But inside, Brandon Young was wide awake, listening for his fathers footsteps, and praying that this time... Ethan would know what to do. ..... Ethan sat hunched at the edge of his bed, staring at his phone like it might explode. The call with Brandon kept playing in his headbits of it on a loop. Metal hooked into his back... They hurt him... My dad is involved... His gut twisted. Hed been trying to strategize, to stay calm, but that calm was unraveling fast. Then ding. A notification. His laptop, sitting on the desk by the window, flashed with a message: Secure File Received C Sender: Brandon Ethan crossed the room in two steps and opened the lid. The transfer app Brandon had used lit up green, waiting for the decryption code. Password? He paused. Thought back. WingsCollapse13 he typed it without hesitation. The folder unzipped. Dozens of files spilled out. Logs. Images. Notes. Ethan scanned through quickly, fingers trembling over the trackpad. And then He clicked on an image. The screen flashed to life: a dimly lit room with concrete walls. A young boy sat on the ground, slouched forward, wires snaking from a metallic brace embedded into his back. His arms were thin, restrained. His head drooped low, but Ethan could see just enough of the boys face. His eyes went wide. He knew that face. The jawline, the cheekbones younger, but unmistakable. The resemblance was clear now that he was looking for it. The kid in the picture... he was related to someone Ethan knew from the novel. He opened one of the attached reports. In the details line, it read: Subject 007 | Name: Caleb Carter | Age: 11 | Transfer: Site E Pending "Carter..." Ethan breathed. Then it all snapped together like the final piece of a puzzle falling into place. Jalen Carter. One of the rising stars in the novel. A combo guard who dominated in the second arc of the tournament. Confident. Explosive. Fearless. But in the original storyline... Jalen didnt play in the early rounds. He was mentioned, but always off-screen "personal reasons." the novel had said. Back then, Ethan didnt think much of it. Just another mystery the author never fully explored. But now... it all made sense. Jalen wasnt playing because his brother was missing. Ethan leaned back, breath stolen from his lungs. His heart pounded against his ribs like a warning. Thats why Jalen went quiet in the early tournament arc. Not because of injury. Not because of training. His younger brother had been taken. And now Ethan knew why Jalen had never recovered emotionally, why his story took a dark turn after that arcspiraling into fights, suspensions, and ultimately fading out of the spotlight. Because no one ever saved Caleb Carter. Until now. Ethan shut the laptop slowly, every instinct inside him flaring to life. This is the divergence point. This is where the story starts changing. He stood up, clenched his fists, and whispered under his breath: "Im not letting this play out the same way again." ..... Meanwhile The Carter Residence, 11:47 PM The hallway light flickered above as Jalen Carter sat on the stairs, staring down at his phone, refreshing the same missing persons thread for the hundredth time. No updates. Still no leads. Just commentssome supportive, some cruel. All useless. The glow of the screen lit his face, casting shadows over the bags under his eyes. He hadnt slept properly in days. He couldnt. Not while Caleb was still out there. From the living room, he could hear his mother on the phone her voice breaking again. "We gave you everything we had... Please, justjust check the footage again. Please." Jalen closed his eyes. Hed heard the same call five times tonight alone. His mother cycling through private investigators, friends of friends, old church contacts. His father sat quietly on the couch, holding Calebs old hoodie like it was the last thing anchoring him to reality. Jalens jaw clenched. He shouldve been with Caleb that day. He was supposed to walk him home after practice, but Coach had held him back to talk about college offers. Five minutes. Thats all it took. Five minutes for someone to pull up in a van near the school and He stood up sharply, trying to shake the memory out of his head. He walked into Calebs room. Everything was exactly the same. The blue bedsheets. The half-built LEGO set on the desk. A crumpled drawing of the two of themCaleb had given it to him the day before he disappeared. "Me and Jay at the tournament." Jalen knelt by the drawing and picked it up, smoothing it flat. His phone buzzed. He snatched it up. But it wasnt what he hoped. Just Coach Jenkins, again: "Let me know if youre still planning to play next week. Well support whatever you decide." Jalen didnt reply. He stared at Calebs desk, eyes darting to the family photo on the shelf. A quiet promise formed in his heart, burning steady: "I dont care about the tournament anymore. I just want my brother back." To be continue Chapter 93 - 80: Syndicate Arc (3) Chapter 93: Chapter 80: Syndicate Arc (3) Caleb Carter Location Unknown The cold tile floor sent a chill up Calebs spine as he stirred awake. The dull, humming buzz of fluorescent lights was the only sound that greeted him. His eyes blinked open, adjusting slowly to the sterile gray walls of the room. No windows. No clock. No door handle on the inside. Just a single cot, a flickering light overhead, and silence that felt like it had weight. Caleb sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Where am I...?" His voice echoed softly off the walls. He stood on shaky legs and paced toward the door just as it clicked. The metallic hiss of hydraulics. It opened. And standing in the doorway was a man he recognized tall, dark-skinned, sharp suit. Calm demeanor. A face that had always seemed kind at school assemblies. Mr. Charles Freeman. Principal of San Diego Troops Pacific Ridge Middle School. Caleb blinked, confused. "Mr. Charles?" Freeman stepped inside slowly, hands behind his back, expression unreadable. Calebs voice cracked slightly. "Why... why are you here? Why did you do this to me?" Mr. Freeman just stood there, watching the boy. Then, with a tilt of his head and a faint shrug, he spoke: "No hard feelings, kid." Caleb stepped back instinctively. "II dont understand. You and my dad... you were friends. He helped you... You said we were family." Charles let out a cold breath, almost a scoff. "Yeah. Friends. But on the court, his team always won. Always. You know what that does to a man, son? To be almost good enough every year... only to watch someone else rise higher?" His tone grew sharper, the smile dropping. "Your father took opportunities from me. Scholarships. Titles. Exposure. Even now, in this city, no one remembers Charles Freeman. They remember Coach Carter." Calebs voice trembled. "But... thats not fair... Im just a kid..." "Youre his kid," Charles replied, stepping closer. "And that makes you leverage." Calebs breath caught. For the first time, the weight of his situation pressed down on him like a vice. "Theyre going to come for me," Caleb said quietly, trying to stay brave. "My brother. My family. Theyll find me." Charles didnt flinch. "Im counting on it." He turned, walking back toward the door. "Be patient, Caleb. The games only just begun." With a mechanical hiss, the door slid shut, locking Caleb in the silence once more. He collapsed onto the cot, biting back the urge to cry. .... Date: July 17, 2010 C Friday Location: The Young Residence, Sycamore Lane C Mouth of Wilson, VA The creak of a door echoed softly through the hallway. Brandon Young stepped out of his room, his backpack slung loosely over one shoulder. His eyes scanned the hallway, wary and quiet. Sunlight peeked through the blinds, casting long shadows on the hardwood floor. His thoughts were sharp, focused. (I need to go to school and meet with Ethan... before anything else happens.) He tightened his grip on the strap of his backpack and took a cautious step forward. Then "Stop right there." Brandon halted. Standing at the base of the stairs, arms crossed, face stern and shoulders stiff with tension, was his fatherGerald Young. Brandons chest tightened, but he didnt look away. Geralds voice was cold. "Where do you think youre going?" Brandon held firm. "To school. I told you alreadyIm going to do whatever it takes to stop this." Geralds hands slowly clenched into fists at his sides, his voice low and bitter. "Do you really want to die that much, Brandon?" His jaw tensed. "What about your mother, huh? You want her to bury her only son?" For a moment, Brandon hesitated. Just then, from the nearby living room, Naia Younghis motherstepped into view. Her eyes were red, tears streaking her cheeks as she pressed a hand over her mouth. She didnt speak at firstjust looked at her son, then at the man she once loved. "Please..." she finally said, her voice cracking. "Gerald... hunnn... please... just stop this. Surrender. Turn yourself in. Tell the police everything. We can still fix this... we can still protect Brandon." Gerald shook his head slowly. His face twistednot with regret, but with something colder. Hardened. Unrelenting. "I told you all... I DID THIS FOR US!" His voice boomed, echoing through the hallway like a thunderclap. "For our future. For you, Naia! And for you, Brandon! But no one ever sees that, do they? Your fatherthe villain. The monster. But I made sure wed never suffer again. Not like before." Brandon looked into his fathers eyesand for the first time, he saw the man not as a parent, but as someone lost in his own illusion. A man who had traded his soul for something he thought was survival. Brandons voice was quiet. Firm. "...Even if it kills me, Im still going to stop this. Because its the right thing to do." Geralds eyes narrowed, breathing ragged. For a few seconds, no one moved. The silence was suffocating. Then, without another word, Brandon walked past his father. Not with fearbut with resolve. Gerald didnt stop him this time. And Naia just sank to her knees, weeping quietly, as the door to the house creaked open and shut behind her son. ........ The morning heat was already thick, clinging to the air like sweat. The sunlight glinted off the aluminum bleachers behind the gym, where Ethan Albarado sat hunched, the hum of his laptop barely audible through his headphones. His eyes were bloodshot, fingers trembling slightly as he scrolled through the classified documents Brandon had sent him just hours earlier. The world felt too quiet, like it was holding its breath. "Subject ID: Caleb Carter" That line stared back at him like a punch to the gut. The connection had slammed into Ethan like a freight train: Jalen Carters little brother. The ace guard of Chicago Raptors, In the novelstrong, fast, dominantsidelined with only a vague sentence from the author. "Due to personal family issues, Jalen Carter was absent from the tournament game." Chapter 50. Ethan had brushed past it when he read the novel. Everyone had. But now? It wasnt just "family issues." It was trauma. A kidnapping. Ethan gritted his teeth. "The author just glazed over it like it was nothing..." He clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The weight of knowingreally knowingwas so much worse than fiction. Suddenly, footsteps. Ethans heart jumped. He quickly minimized the file windows, slamming the laptop shut as he turned around. Standing there, arms crossed and eyes suspicious, was Lucas Graves. Lucas tilted his head. "What are you thinking?" Ethans reply was too fast. "Nothing." Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Its 7 a.m., dude. School doesnt start for another half hour. Youre not exactly the arrive early type." Ethan avoided eye contact. "Its not like that... you dont need to know. Just drop it." Lucas stepped closer, smirking faintly. "Kinda sus, dont you think? The way youre acting?" Ethan stood up, grabbing his bag. "Why are you here then? If Im early, what does that make you? Youre usually late." Lucas shrugged casually, looking around the bleachers. "I dont know... something told me to come here. I thought maybe Brandon would show up." Ethan squinted. "What kind of logic is that?" Lucas smirked again. "Dunno. Must be my instinct." Ethans eyes darkened. (Tsk. This guy... his instincts are always dead-on. I cant let him get involved. Not again. Not like that day...) He looked down, tightening his grip on his laptop. (Its dangerous. We have to rescue Caleb even if Its already too late... And I cant let Lucas risk his life too.) Lucas stepped onto the bleachers, gaze flicking to the laptop. "Ethan." "...What?" "Youre not telling me everything." Ethan stayed quiet. Lucas sat beside him. "Im not an idiot, you know." Ethan slowly looked at him. "Youre involved in something," Lucas said. "And even if you dont want to say it, I can feel it. So either you trust me... or you lie and carry that weight alone." The silence that followed felt heavy. Too heavy for two middle school kids. But Ethan just sighed and turned away. "...Im not dragging you into this, Lucas." Lucas didnt move. "Then Ill walk in myself." Ethan blinked. Lucas smiled. Just slightly. "I dont care what it is. If someones in danger, if someone needs help... Im not standing back." Ethan stared at him, conflicted. Then he looked down at the laptop again. (...Damn it. Why does this guy always make things harder) Lucass quiet declaration still lingered in the air when "Ethan... Lucas?" Both boys turned at the same time. Standing just a few feet away, bathed in morning sunlight, were Evan Coopertall, composed, slightly smirkingand beside him, shorter and twitchier, stood Louie Gee Davas, fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie. Lucas squinted. "Why are you here, senior?" Evan gave a casual shrug. "Well, we just figured you two might be lurking around here before class. Thought wed check." Louie tilted his head toward Ethan. "Lucas... what are you talking to Ethan about?" Before Ethan could stop him, Lucas smirked. "How about you call me senior first?" Louie frowned and looked away. "Hmph." Lucas chuckled, and Evan rolled his eyes. Ethan sighed deeply. What was a one-man missiontwo, if you count Brandonwas suddenly becoming a crowd. (This wasnt supposed to happen... It was just me and Brandon. The fewer people who know, the safer. Dammit...) He closed his laptop slowly, slipping it into his backpack with calculated ease, like hiding a weapon. "So," Evan said, glancing from Ethan to Lucas, "you both up to something sketchy... or just enjoying the sunrise?" Lucas opened his mouth, but Ethan cut in quickly. "Nothing. We were just talking." Evan raised a brow. "Sure didnt sound like nothing when we were walking up." Ethans lips tightened. "Its personal." Louie stepped closer. "Is something wrong, Ethan?" Ethan shook his head, forcing a smile. "No. Just school stuff. Pre-game stress." Lucas glanced at him, catching the liebut said nothing. Ethan looked at the groupLucas, intuitive and stubborn; Evan, observant and sharp; and Louie, who, despite his youth, was always too curious for his own good. (I cant let them get involved. Brandons taking a huge risk already. If these guys get dragged in too...) (If something happens to them... That bloods on me.) "Look," Ethan said firmly, "you guys should head in. Schools starting soon." Lucas raised a brow. "Arent you coming?" Ethan nodded slowly. "Yeah... Ill be right behind you." For a moment, none of them moved. Then Evan sighed. "Alright. But whatever youre hiding... well find out eventually." Louie looked like he wanted to press further but followed Evan as he walked off, hands in pockets. Lucas lingered a second longer. His eyes locked with Ethans. Not suspicious... not confrontational... but concerned. Then he turned and followed. When they were out of sight, Ethan let out a long, shaky breath. His body tensed like a spring. (I have to move faster... Before they find out the truth on their own. Before they get caught in it.) He opened his phone. A text from Brandon. "Im already halfway to school?" Ethans thumb hovered over the screen. Then he typed: "Okay... I wait." ..... [Lucas Side] As they walked past the library wing, Lucas suddenly slowed his pace. "Guys." His voice was low but firm. Evan and Louie turned toward him. Lucas looked ahead, making sure Ethan wasnt nearby before whispering. "Ethan... He seems like he knows whats going on. With Brandon." Evan raised a brow. "Seriously?" Lucas gave a silent nod. "He was staring at his laptop like the world was ending. He said it was nothingbut we both know Ethan. He only shuts down like that when its something big." Louies eyes widened, his voice coming out more anxious than he meant. "What did he say? What exactly did Ethan tell you?" Lucas frowned, glancing at the floor as they kept walking slowly. "Nothing specific. He clammed up fast. Said it was personal." Evan sighed. "Classic." Louie clenched his fists, remembering somethinga memory he couldnt forget. "...You think this is like before? That thing underground...? When we almost" Lucas nodded solemnly. "Yeah. My guts telling me this isnt just nothing... Theres danger in Ethans eyes again. And Brandon being involved? Thats too much of a coincidence." Louie bit his lip. "So what do we do?" Lucas looked around once more before answering. "We follow him." To be continue Chapter 94 - 81: Syndicate Arc (4) Chapter 94: Chapter 81: Syndicate Arc (4) Date: July 17, 2010 C Friday Morning, 7:54 AM Location: School Grounds C Behind the Gym The morning sun cast sharp beams across the empty pavement, reflecting off the windows and warming the air with the promise of another humid Virginia summer day. Most students were just arriving, spilling into homerooms and hallways, unaware that something far more serious was unfolding behind the gym. Lucas knelt behind a row of AC units, peeking carefully toward the fence where Brandon and Ethan had just hopped over. He turned to Evan and Louie, both crouched beside him. "Theyre making their move..." Lucas whispered. "Lets go," he added firmly. They darted forward, moving in the cover of low hedges and parked maintenance carts, careful not to draw attention. Louie, usually the one to hesitate, moved faster than usualhis face tight with unease. "I knew it," he muttered under his breath. "This is just like last time." Lucas gritted his teeth. "Exactly. And Im not going to let Ethan carry this alone." The trio slipped past the back gate one after another, landing softly. Ahead, Ethan and Brandon were already walking across the nearby field that led toward the edge of the woods bordering the town. ...... The morning sun cut through the trees lining the narrow path behind the school districts fence. Dew still clung to the grass, brushing their sneakers with every step. Ethan walked a few paces ahead, his eyes locked on the worn-down service road that led to the storm drainage tunnels near the towns outskirts. Brandon walked beside him, clutching the strap of his backpack like it was the only thing grounding him. Brandon glanced sideways. "So... you mean Site E is actually here? In this town?" Ethan didnt stop walking. He just nodded. "Yeah. Its... its underneath the old water district facility. Out past the maintenance yard. No one really goes there anymore." Brandon blinked. "How do you even know all this?" Ethan slowed a bit. That question hung in the air longer than it should have. ( Crap... I cant tell him. I cant say this came from a novel. No one would believe me. And if he did... itd just make me sound insane. But I remembervaguely. The author only gave it a few paragraphs. Some throwaway background mention. Site E... the underground water control facility repurposed for logistics. Thats what it said. I think. But... its been too long. Since I read the novel I mean that was chapter 50 up) He forced a shrug. "I heard rumors. You know how Mouth of Wilson issmall town, big secrets. Some of the upperclassmen used to joke about it. Urban legend kind of stuff. I didnt believe it until I saw the files." Brandon didnt look convinced, but he nodded slowly. "Right... rumors." They stopped at the end of the road. A rusted metal gate, chained but slightly ajar, stood before them. Beyond it, the cracked concrete roof of the forgotten water district control center peeked out behind overgrown brush. Ethan looked back. "Once we go in... theres no turning back, Brandon." Brandon took a deep breath. "Then lets not stop." ... From a distance, behind the rusted chain-link fence and half-toppled trees, Lucas Graves crouched low, his eyes fixed on Ethan and Brandon as they slipped past the gate. He turned his head slightly. "They just went in." Evan Cooper, just behind him, adjusted his hoodie and whispered, "That place... it looks abandoned." Louie Gee Davas was already snapping a photo with his cheap 2010 flip phonebarely good quality, but proof. "I knew something was up. That doesnt look like some random shortcut to school." Lucas narrowed his eyes. "No. Its not." They waited for a few seconds, then carefully moved forward, ducking behind a row of thorny bushes that wrapped around the facilitys perimeter. Evan muttered, "Lucas, are we sure about this? I meanif theyre doing something dangerous" Lucas cut in quietly, voice calm but firm. "Thats exactly why we have to be here." Louie whispered, concern etched across his face. "You think its like that one time again? Underground... the White family ..." Lucas didnt respond at first. He just stared at the building. Lucas finally said. "I dont know but one thing I knew is that .... This is dangerous" They moved like shadows, sticking to the trees, the fence, the blind spots. A trio of middle schoolers chasing a truth that most adults wouldnt dare believe. Unaware that ahead of them, Ethan and Brandon were about to uncover something buried deeper than either of them expected. ........ Location: BAC U.S. Division C Executive Suite, Imperial Crest, Virginia The early morning light bathed the executive floor of the BAC U.S. Training Complex in a soft, golden hue. From its pristine vantage point atop Imperial Crest, the most exclusive gated community in Virginia, the complex overlooked rolling hills draped in mist. Below, athletes moved in formation, drones hovered silently over training fields, and biometric readouts flickered on transparent glass panels. The hum of technology blended seamlessly with the discipline of sport. Inside the executive boardroom, encased in bulletproof glass and furnished with white marble and brushed steel, stood Romanov Graves, the commanding Executive Director of the U.S. branch of BACBasketball Asian Company. She stood by the wall-length window, her sharp black suit immaculate, her heels silent on the smooth floor. Her silver nameplate, engraved in sleek serif font, read simply: Romanov Graves C Executive Director, BAC U.S. A knock tapped at the frosted glass door. "Come in," Romanov said coldly, without turning around. The door slid open with a soft hydraulic hiss. Mira Lang, her executive coordinator, stepped inside, digital clipboard in hand, posture stiff. There was always a subtle tremor in Miras voice when she addressed Romanovnot from fear, but from respect laced with uncertainty. The kind you felt when you stood in front of a general who never tolerated failure. Romanov turned, her gaze cutting like a scalpel. "Status." Mira swallowed lightly. "As of now, maam... the athletes who were exposed to the enhancer compound have been stabilized. The medical team at Ward B reports ongoing recovery. No permanent physical degradation has been recorded so far." Romanov gave a single, measured nod. "Good. And the incident beneath the townthe underground, Greg Tarrow created under the guise of a training centerhas there been progress?" Mira hesitated, tapping her tablet. "Not much, Im afraid. The local bureau officially closed the investigation last week. Theyve pinned the entire operation on the late Greg Tarrow alone. The media narrative is that he acted out of a personal vendetta... something about a grudge against the White family." Romanov scoffed quietly, almost bitterly. "Typical. Bury the truth under politics." She turned back toward the window, her reflection barely visible in the glass. "Keep pressing. I want every name that was even remotely connected to that underground court. No matter how small. I want to know who supported him, who helped build that place, and most importantlywho let him operate under our radar." Mira nodded. "Understood." Romanovs eyes darkened as she turned toward the window, her reflection staring back at her. "Lucas... Charlotte... They were caught up in that madness. I nearly lost both of them." Her voice was cold but laced with a rare, buried fear. "I will not lose them to this worlds filth. I dont care if its underground arenas, drugged games, or fake leagues. No one drags my children into this." Her voice faltered only slightlylike a blade with a single crack. But Mira noticed. "Ive assigned a new shadow team to them," Mira added quickly. "The young master and young lady are being followed closely. Both of them are unaware. And the guards" "are the best?" Romanov interrupted. "Yes, maam," Mira confirmed. "Former JSOC. Handpicked. Quiet. Lethal. They operate independently, no ties to public law.". Young Master Lucas is being tailed in town, and Young Lady Charlotte is monitored 24/7 at the Academy. All movements are being logged." Romanov finally exhaled, the tension barely easing from her shoulders. "Good. If anyone even thinks of dragging my children into another one of these pathetic underground feuds, I want it shut down before it starts." She turned, walking toward her desk where a photo frame lay face-down. She picked it up. It was an old pictureLucas, no older than eight holding a basketball, grinning with messy hair; Charlotte, 9 years old on his side, her smile pure and her husband Roman Graves who have pure smile looking at them. Romanovs expression darkened. "I built this company to break limits. But sometimes... I wonder if the system we built is starting to break the ones I care about most." ... Location: Outskirts of Site E, Near Old Water Facility, Mouth of Wilson, Virginia Time: Morning, 2010 (tech level ~2013) The gravel crunched beneath their sneakers as Ethan and Brandon walked down a narrow, unused service road. Rusted chain-link fences flanked the path, overgrown with wild ivy and brush. Old warning signs"PROPERTY OF W.D. AUTHORITY C KEEP OUT"swung limply in the breeze. Brandon glanced sideways at Ethan, his brows furrowed with suspicion. "So, you mean Site E is... what exactly?" Brandon asked, his voice low. Ethan kept his eyes ahead. "Yeah... in this town, Site E used to be a water treatment facility. Officially." Brandon slowed slightly. "Used to be?" Ethan nodded. "Shut down years ago. But no one ever talks about what actually happened here. Its like people erased it from memory." Brandons gaze sharpened. "Okay, buthow do you know about this? What, you just happen to know the layout of a shut-down water facility?" Ethan hesitated. He clenched his fists in his jacket pockets. (Damn it... I really cant tell him about the novel. He wouldnt believe me. Hed think Im crazy...) His thoughts raced. (Because in the novel, it was mentioned in passingthe Site E Incident. Something about it being tied to a scandal involving the towns water district. But more importantly... it was one of the first places the Syndicate operated in secret. A testing ground. Though it wasnt a major focus in the novel; Lucas just heard about it while watching the news. And I barely remember the details since its been so long since I read that Chapter...) He forced himself to answer. "My Uncle... he told me about this place before he moved," Ethan lied smoothly. "Said he and his friends used to sneak in back in high school. Swore something shady was going on heretrucks coming in late at night, no records of who managed the place. Then he stopped talking about it." Brandon narrowed his eyes. "You never told me your uncle is this cool." Ethan shrugged. "We dont talk much anymore." There was silence between them for a moment. Brandon seemed to accept it, but his expression was clouded. Eventually, he nodded. "Alright... lets say I believe you." They approached a rusted gate. It creaked open with a groan when Ethan pushed against it. Beyond the gate stood the remnants of the old Site E facilitya gray, squat building with shattered windows and a moss-covered roof. The air smelled of metal, dust, and forgotten things. Brandon looked around uneasily. "No guards. No signs of activity." "Thats what makes it worse," Ethan muttered. "This place isnt abandoned. Its hidden." Suddenly, Brandon stopped and looked Ethan in the eye. "Are you sure you are ready for this? If somethings actually going on here, were just kids. We dont have backup, no plan..." Ethans voice was quiet but firm. "Thats why we have to go. Because if we dontno one will." Brandon stared at him for a moment longer, then sighed. "Youre starting to sound like Lucas." Ethan didnt respond. He just kept walking toward the broken double doors. 11 days before the tournament To be continue Chapter 95 - 82: Syndicate Arc (5) Chapter 95: Chapter 82: Syndicate Arc (5) The room was quiet. Too quiet. Outside, the sky was gray and heavy, the kind of cold that made the walls feel smaller. Rain tapped against the window in slow, uneven beats. Inside, a single desk lamp cast a warm glow over the blanket-wrapped boy hunched in bed, a novel open across his lap. Jonathan Brandit. Once a prodigy with boundless energy on the court. Now a ghost in his own skin, legs paralyzed from the waist down after the accident. He adjusted his position slowlymechanicallyhis thin fingers turning the page of the old basketball novel hed read a dozen times before. The one that kept him sane. The one she used to read to him. But she wasnt here anymore. So he read it himself. The turning point Chapter. The rise of Lucas Graves. Eyes scanning line after line, Jonathan paused as he came across somethingbarely a paragraph, tucked between two major scenes. An almost throwaway mention. Lucas heard the news that Jalen Carter had quit basketball entirely. He sat alone in the locker room and muttered, "Its a shame... hes talented. I wanted to play with him just once. And I can see it in his eyeshe loves basketball." Jonathan froze. (Thats it?) He reread the lines. Again. Again. (Thats all the author gave him...?) His fingers tightened around the spine of the book. It wasnt anger. Not yet. It was something slower. Emptier. Like discovering someones name etched into a tombstone youd never noticed before. Jalen Carter. A name never expanded on. No Chapter, no backstory, no closure. Just forgotten. (He quit...? Why? What happened? Why didnt they tell us more?) Jonathan swallowed hard, throat dry. He stared at the words, unblinking. (Lucas wanted to play with him. Just once. Like he saw something in him...) (And now that chance was gone.) He closed the book slowly, the weight of the story pressing into his chest. There, in the stillness of that hospital-like bedroom, a quiet grief settled in. Not for himself. But for a character who never got his story. For someone who walked away from the game while the world moved on without him. (He was talented. He loved basketball.) Jonathan looked over at the chair in the corner. His chair. (Maybe thats why it stuck with me. Because I was already starting to understand what it felt like... to be left behind by the game you loved.) ..... Location: Site E Interior, Mouth of Wilson, Virginia The inside of Site E felt like a tomb. Dim, filtered sunlight poured in through cracks in the boarded windows, casting broken lines across the dust-covered floor. Metal pipes snaked along the ceiling, dripping water occasionally with a hollow plink. The air was thick with dampness and the faint stench of mildew. Ethan and Brandon stepped cautiously into the first chamberonce a pump control room, now long abandoned. Brandon held his arm over his mouth. "Smells like rot in here..." "Stay close," Ethan whispered. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a cheap LED flashlight. It flickered for a second before stabilizing, revealing rusted control panels, overturned filing cabinets, and a partially caved-in ceiling in one corner. As they moved deeper, Brandons foot accidentally kicked somethinga crumpled security badge. He picked it up. "BAC...? Isnt that the company sponsoring national youth training?" Ethan frowned. "Yeah... but what the hell is their badge doing here?" Brandon flipped it over. The name had been scratched out. "Dude," he said, suddenly tense, "this place was used recently." They heard somethinga soft whirring. Then a click. Metal shifting behind the wall. Brandons eyes widened. "What was that?!" Ethan motioned to stay low, moving to the side. They pressed against the wall, ears alert. But it was gone. Nothing. Just silence... until Ethan spotted something aheada cracked door with a glowing red keypad next to it. He pointed. "Thats new. That door doesnt belong to an abandoned water plant." Brandon muttered, "Then what the hell is it?" Ethan didnt answer. He was thinking. (BAC is here? This wasnt in the novel. Or maybe I forgot this part... No, this is different. This part is off-script.) As they stepped closer, a faint beep rang out. Someone had accessed the door before. "Get back!" Ethan pulled Brandon away just in time CLANK! The door hissed slightly... and slid open by itself. Beyond it, a staircase descended into pure darkness. Brandons voice dropped. "This is bigger than just a water facility..." Ethan nodded slowly. "This is where they hid everything they didnt want the public to see." He looked behind them. Still no sign of people (Good... I need a little more time.) But what neither Ethan nor Brandon realized was this: high above, on a rusted catwalk, a small blinking red light had activated. A surveillance camera. And someone, somewhere, had just seen them enter. .... The room was dim, lit only by a sliver of late-morning sunlight cutting through the cracks in the boarded window. Dust floated in the still air, and the faint sound of birds outside clashed with the oppressive silence inside. In the corner sat Caleb Carter, 11 years old, knees pulled to his chest. His wrists were bound, but not tightlyjust enough to make escape frustrating. He had black curly hair, soft brown skin like his dads, and sharp eyes that didnt match his age. There were no tears now. Just quiet defiance. The door creaked open. Mr. Charles Freeman (Principal of San diego) stepped inside, his figure casting a long shadow. He wore a clean gray polo, khakis, and an old whistle still hanging around his neckas if he couldnt let go of the "coach" role. His face was carved with years of tension, eyes narrowed with something colder than anger: obsession. Caleb flinched but didnt look away. Charles sat on the edge of a wooden chair across from him. "You know," he began, voice smooth but brittle, "when I was your age, I used to watch your father play. Eddie Carter. Fast, smart. Too damn good." Caleb didnt respond. Charles leaned forward slightly. "Your dad and I? We were brothers on the court. But he always stole the spotlight. Always the one with the last shot. The MVP. Even when we coached together... he won. I lost. Year after year." Caleb frowned. "So what? Youre mad cause he was better?" Charless lips twitched. "No. Im mad because he ruined everything. The final year2009 Middle School Nationalsmy son, my team... we couldve had it all. And who took it from us? Jalen Carter. Your brother." Caleb looked down. Charles stood, pacing now, voice rising. "Do you know what its like? To build up your dream, only for it to be crushed by the same bloodline again and again? You Carters dont even realize the damage you leave behind." He paused. "Thats why I took you." Calebs head snapped up. "Youre crazy." Charles chuckled bitterly. "Maybe. But with you gone, Eddie will finally feel it. The loss. The pain. And maybe... just maybe, Ill get some peace." Calebs voice was quiet but clear: "Youll never win. My dad will find me." Charles stopped in his tracks. "Then he better be quick. Because the clocks ticking." Then, without another word, Charles exited the room, leaving Caleb alone in the dim light againheartbeat pounding louder than ever. .. The stairwell groaned under their weight as Ethan and Brandon descended deeper into the concrete bowels of Site E. The air was cold, metallic, and laced with mildewthe scent of a place long forgotten by the world but still hiding secrets. A flickering light buzzed above as they stepped into a narrow hallway lined with rusted pipes and broken lockers. Brandon whispered, "This place gives me the creeps..." Ethan didnt respond right away. His eyes scanned the floor. Then he knelt. "...Rope fibers," he murmured, brushing his fingers against some frayed strands near a scraped patch on the floor. "Someone was dragged here." Brandon looked closer, eyes narrowing. "These marks... thats a kids shoe print. Small. Not old, either." They followed the faint trailscratches in the floor, a scuff on the wall, even a smudge of dried mud shaped like a palm printuntil they reached a half-closed steel door. Ethan placed a hand on it. A breath. Then he pushed it open. Inside, the small room was dim and cold. An overturned chair. Bits of rope. And on the ground, a familiar red wristbandtiny and frayed. "Caleb..." Brandon whispered, heart pounding. Ethan nodded grimly. "He was here." But before he could move farther in CLANG! A door slammed shut somewhere behind them. Then another. Brandon turned fast. "What was that?!" Ethan cursed under his breath, backing up. "Were not alone." Footsteps echoed. First one pair. Then three. Then more. Out of the darkness came shadowsmen in black coats, moving like trained guards. Some wore street clothes, others tactical boots. All of them had one thing in common: no insignia. No hesitation. One of thema taller man with a scar running down his cheekstepped forward with a short metal baton in his grip. "Orders are to retrieve them alive," he said calmly to the others. "If they resist, break a few bones. Theyll still walk." Ethans fists clenched. Brandon muttered, "How many?" "...Seven. Maybe more." Brandons voice sharpened. "We run?" Ethan shook his head. "We fight first. Then run." The first henchman lunged. Brandon ducked low, tackling him into the wall while Ethan sidestepped another and delivered a sharp kick to the knee. The baton clattered. Another guard rushed inEthan caught a fist to the shoulder but returned with an elbow to the ribs. "Back to the hallway!" Ethan shouted, lungs burning as his sneakers pounded against cracked tile. Brandon didnt hesitatehe swung his arm around one of the henchmen chasing them and slammed him into the wall. Another came at him from the left, but Brandons shoulder caught the man in the ribs and threw him off balance. With a grunt, he grabbed Ethans wrist and yanked. "Go! Move!" They tore down the rusted hallway, past busted lockers and faded hazard signs. The metal door at the far end groaned openand thats when they saw them. More figures. Six. Maybe seven. All in black, faces masked, moving like shadows with steel pipes and stun batons in hand. Ethan skidded to a halt, breathing hard. "Blocked!" "Damn it!" Brandon turned, heart hammering, searchinguntil he saw it: a low square opening near the ground, its grating cracked and hanging loose behind an old shelf tipped sideways. "The maintenance shaft!" Brandon pointed. "There!" Ethan snapped into motion. "Go! Ill cover!" Brandon dropped to his knees, yanked the grate loose with a metallic squeal, and started crawling in. Behind them Footsteps. Yells. The clatter of pipes. Ethan picked up a busted mop handle from the floor, turned around, and faced the advancing group. His knuckles went white around the grip. He could feel them drawing closer. Ethan turned for one last look. More were coming. And behind them, in the dark... He swore he saw mans eyes watching. ... Near Site E Perimeter C Overgrown Back Trail The three boys crouched low behind a dense patch of shrubbery, their breaths quiet and eyes sharp. The old water facility loomed ahead, half-swallowed by ivy and rust. Broken fencing marked the edge of the path, leading toward a side service entrance barely visible through the vines. Lucas held up a hand, signaling Evan and Louie to stay still. They waited. Nothing. Only the whisper of wind through tall grass and the distant cry of a hawk. Evan whispered, "I still dont get why were doing this without telling them" Lucas cut him off. "Because Ethan didnt tell anyone either. That means whatever hes walking into, its bad. Really bad." Louie was about to reply when THUMP. A distant crash echoed from inside the facility. Then another. CLANG. CLANG. Shouting. Faint, muffled... but unmistakable. Lucas shot up slightly. "Thats Brandons voice!" Evans eyes widened. "Wait... and thatEthan! Theyre fighting!" Louies face paled. "Fighting who?!" Another sound. This time louder. Closer. A body hitting metal. Lucass fists clenched. "Were out of time." Louie, eyes fierce. "Forget sneaking. We go in. Now." Evan looked unsure. "And if its a trap?" Lucas gave a tight, grim smile. "Then we break it." They sprinted toward the side entrance, feet pounding the cracked pavement. Lucas yanked a rusted grate off the side wall, revealing an old pipe corridor. "In here!" One by one, they slipped inside the dark tunnelLucas in the lead, following the echoes of chaos. Farther in, the fight still raged. And none of them knew It was just the beginning. To be continue Chapter 96 - 83: Syndicate Arc (6) Chapter 96: Chapter 83: Syndicate Arc (6) Ethan picked up a busted mop handle from the floor, turned around, and faced the advancing group. His knuckles went white around the grip. He could feel them drawing closer. Then Movement. At the far back. Not one of the henchmen. No. Something still. Watching. A tall figure, face half-hidden in shadow. Not rushing like the others. Just standing there, observing, the glint of unnatural focus in his eyes. "Let them run. The games just starting." Ethans blood chilled. "ETHAN!" Brandon called from inside the shaft. Ethan snapped out of it and dove into the opening just as the henchmen lunged. One grabbed at his shoeEthan kicked free and slammed the grate shut behind them. Darkness. Dust. The sound of heavy breathing. Brandon lit the flashlight on his phone. "What the hell was that back there?" Ethan didnt answer at first. He just stared into the black behind them. "Someone... was there," he whispered. ..... As the metal grate echoed shut behind Ethan, the hallway outside fell quiet. The last of the footsteps faded into the echoing gloomexcept for one pair. Measured. Heavy. Calm. Mr. Charles Freeman stepped forward from the shadows, his face half-illuminated by a flickering wall light. His gray polo was immaculate, and the whistle still hung around his neck like a badge of authority long corrupted. The former coachnow principal of Pacific Ridge Middle Schoolapproached the maintenance shaft, the place Ethan and Brandon had slipped into just seconds earlier. His shadow stretched long and distorted on the floor, like a stain that refused to fade. He didnt shout. He didnt chase. He simply stared at the open shaft. A faint smirk curled across his lips. "So... hes here, huh?" Charles muttered. "Ethan Albarado. The one who keeps getting in the way. A hindrance to everything weve built." Behind him, one of his henchmenapproached. "Sir, should we chase them down?" Charles didnt even look back. "No. Let them squirm for a bit. The shaft doesnt go far. But I want them to feel the pressure. Let them taste fear." He turned toward the camera in the corner of the hallwayan old surveillance system still partially active. "This is just like Pacific Ridge. Back in San Diego." he whispered. "The stage is different... but the game? The game is always the same." He exhaled slowly. "And This I will not lose" .. [Lucas side] Louie gritted his teeth and shouted under his breath, "Lets go!!" His voice crackednot from fear, but urgency. For him, this wasnt just about danger. It was about Ethan. The only person who ever treated him like a little brother. Louie didnt have siblings. Just his grandma back home, always working long hours and saving what little she could. But Ethan? Ethan taught him how to shoot smoothly. How to dribble efficiently. How to believe in himself. He wasnt just a teammate. He was family. Without waiting, Louie darted forward toward the crumbled western edge of the building, where the brick wall had long since cracked open. Vines curled along the broken frame, and a faint draft of cold air wafted from the shadows within. "Louiewait!" Evan called, but Lucas raised a hand. "Let him go," Lucas said, sharp. "Were right behind." The three of them slipped inside, crouching low as they moved through the dark corridor. Dust coated everything. The air smelled of rust, mildew, and old water. Somewhere deeper insidea crash. A grunt. Then silence. They froze. Lucas whispered, "Ethan..." They passed old signage: [SITE E C WATER CONTROL C RESTRICTED ACCESS] Louie clenched his jaw and picked up a rusted pipe from the floor. "He better be okay," he muttered. Lucas moved up beside him, his yellow eyes focused. "Well make sure he is." Suddenly, footsteps echoed ahead. Lucas threw his arm in front of them. "Hide!" They ducked into a side room just in time as two armed-looking henchmen jogged past, speaking in low voices. "...I think they crawled into the maintenance shaftsector 2B." "...Dont let them escape. Boss said the Carter kid stays here. The others? Do whatever." The three held their breath until the men passed. Then Lucas turned, face serious. (What do they mean about Carter?) Louie looked at him, stunned. "What?" Lucas nodded. "I can feel it. Lets move." Evan gripped the strap of his backpack tighter. "Then we dont stop until we find them all." They slipped back into the corridorand the real mission began. ... [Back to Ethan] Maintenance Shaft C Beneath Site E Clang. Clang. Shuffle. The sound of their movement echoed in the narrow steel shaft, every motion amplified in the metal belly of the old facility. Ethan crawled ahead, his palms scraped from the rough surface. His breath was ragged, not just from the sprint and crawlbut from the weight of it all. Behind him, Brandon grunted as he pushed through the tight space. "This better lead somewhere, man." Ethan nodded. "It does. I think." Brandon huffed. "You better be right..." A loud thud echoed behind them. Both boys froze. "...What was that?" Brandon whispered. Ethans eyes narrowed. He didnt respondbut he heard it too. Scrape. Thud. Scrape. Somethingor someonewas crawling after them. Brandons voice tightened. "Dudego. GO!" They moved faster, adrenaline kicking in. The shaft bent sharply downward and opened into a rusted grill barely hanging by its bolts. Ethan kicked it looseCLANG! He dropped into the chamber below with a soft roll. Brandon followed right after, landing hard beside him. They looked around. The chamber was dark, lined with leaking pipes and broken control panels. Old water maps were scattered across a dusty desk. Brandon wiped his forehead. "We lose them?" Ethan backed up slowly toward a door in the corner. "I dont know..." Suddenly, a voice slithered through the shaft abovelow, raspy, and filled with venom. "Well, well... Ethan Albarado." Ethan froze mid-step. The voice continued. "And you... who are you?" There was a pausea sneer behind the wordsas the unseen man peered down at Brandon. Ethan slowly turned his head, eyes locking on the dark grate above. A sliver of light flickered, outlining the silhouette of a man crouched like a predator. Charles Freeman. Ethan had never seen him before. But in that instant, something primal jolted through him This man wasnt just someone. He is dangerous He was the danger. Ethan whispered, barely audible, "...Who is that?" Brandon didnt answer. His fists clenched. Charless voice echoed again, colder now. "I shouldve guessed youd show up...." Ethan snapped back to reality. "Run." His voice was sharp now, clear. "Run!" he repeated, louder, grabbing Brandons arm. Brandon shook his head, furious. "Not without" "Just go! Ill follow!" Behind them, something shifted in the pipeslike metal creaking underweight. They didnt wait to check. Ethan and Brandon bolted down the corridor, boots slapping wet concrete as the shadows behind them stirred. And above them, Charles Freeman watched with eerie calm. "Run all you want," he murmured. "The ending doesnt change." ... The hallway above groaned under the weight of ageconcrete chipped, metal pipes rattled softly in the silence. Lucas crouched low behind a rusted generator, holding his breath. Beside him, Louies eyes were wide, his fists clenched tightly. Evan peeked around the corner, tension drawn across his shoulders like a pulled string. Then Voices. Faint. Muffled. But close. Echoing from the shaft grates and vents below. "Run..." "Just go! Ill follow!" Louies heart dropped. That was Ethan. He lurched forward. "Lets go!!" Louie hissed, urgency bubbling over. "Hes down therehe needs us!" Evan grabbed his shoulder. "Waitwhat if its a trap? We dont even know whats down there yet!" Lucas narrowed his eyes, scanning the floor. Then he saw ita loose metal grate, partly dislodged. A faint draft of cold air rose from below. Voices clearer now. And somewhere, deeper Another voice. Older. Harsher. "The ending doesnt change" Lucass blood went cold. "That voice..." he muttered. "Thats not Ethan. Thats someone else." Louie turned, fire in his chest. "I dont care. Ethans like family to me. If hes in troubleIm going." Without waiting, he pulled the grate off with a sharp tug. "Damn it," Evan muttered. "Were all in now." Lucas, murmur "Ethan...Brandon" One by one, they descended into the dark. .. The echo of their footfalls pounded through the narrow corridor, every breath ragged, every second counting. Ethan ducked low under a rusted pipe as Brandon sprinted ahead, the flickering emergency lights casting warped shadows across the damp concrete. Then "There they are!!" The shout came from behindraw, guttural. The henchmen had spotted them. A dozen footsteps thundered down the hallway in pursuit. "Damn it!" Ethan hissed, shoving Brandon forward. "Move!" Brandon didnt look back, but his chest heaved with panic. "Were not gonna outrun them at this pace!" Aheadanother junction. Left led deeper into darkness. Right... faint light. "Right!" Ethan barked. They turned the corner Only to find the hallway partially collapsed. Steel beams, rubble, shattered glass. Blocked. Brandon skidded to a stop. "What now!?" Ethan scanned the area, brain racing. Then he saw ita maintenance door, rusted but unlocked. "In there!" They slammed into it, closing it behind them just as the henchmen turned the corner. "Split up!" one shouted. "Theyre boxed in!" Ethan locked the door and backed away, breathing hard. ... Inside the Chamber C Site E Ethan stepped forward slowly, the flickering ceiling light buzzing above. Brandon stood frozen behind him, eyes wide. The room reeked of antiseptic and rusted blood. Along the far wall, a row of glass containment tubesfive of themstood upright, faintly glowing green. Inside each... Children. Hunched. Shackled. Their small bodies were chained at the ankles and wrists, curled unnaturally as if molded into submission. Each had a thick metallic brace fused into the upper spine, extending wires up into their necks and skulls. IV tubes pierced their arms. A slow drip of an unknown fluid leaked into them. Their eyesif openwere dull, empty. Some were unconscious. Others twitched. Brandons voice trembled. "What... the hell is this?" Ethans heart pounded. "Theyre just kids." He took another step, studying the console beside the tubes. A cracked screen blinked with fragmented text: PROJECT: R.E.B.O.U.N.D. Subject #5: Status C Incomplete Integration Age: 12 Notes: Neural sync failed. Subject exhibiting high resistance. Ethan clenched his fists. "They were experimenting on them..." Brandon stared in horror. "Why? For what!?" And then From the intercom above, a voice crackled again. Charles Freeman. "You shouldnt have come here, Ethan Albarado. You dont know what kind of game youre in." The lights dimmed. The tubes began to hiss. One of them started opening. Ethan spun around, eyes darting as the tube hissed louder behind him. He stepped protectively in front of Brandon. From the shadows at the far end of the chamber, a panel in the wall slid open silentlya hidden door. Cold air rushed in. Charles Freeman stepped out from the darkness, the overhead light glinting off his wire-framed glasses. Calm. Controlled. Polo Dressed like a school principal, but with the presence of something far more dangerous. Ethans voice came out sharp. "How did you get in?" Charless smirk deepened. "Who do you think I am?" he said, voice slow and venomous. "I created this place." He gestured broadly to the tubes, the machines, the sickening hum of electricity behind them. "I know every hallway. Every vent. Every escape route. Theres a door hereone youll never find unless you know the blueprint. This place was mine before it was abandoned." Brandon growled, stepping forward. "You did this to those kids?! Youre insane!" Charles didnt blink. "Insane?" His voice dropped. "No. Im just a man who finally got tired of being forgotten. Of watching the Carter family rise while I was buried." He looked at Ethan now, his eyes burning. "You dont even know what youve walked into, Ethan Albarado. This isnt about Carter. This is about justice... my justice." Behind Ethan, the containment tube clanked fully open. And a weak, shackled figure collapsed onto the floor. To be continue Chapter 97 - 84: Syndicate Arc (7) Chapter 97: Chapter 84: Syndicate Arc (7) Date: July 17, 2010 C Friday Morning, 9:54 AM Location: Oak Hill Academy C Math Class The gentle hum of the ceiling fan barely masked the droning voice of the math teacher as she explained the intricacies of algebraic expressions on the whiteboard. Most students sat still, their eyes half-lidded with boredom or concentration. But three sets of eyes were focused elsewhere. Coonie Smith, Kai Mendoza, and Jeremy Park werent paying attention to the equations. Instead, their gazes were locked on two empty seats near the back of the classroomseats that belonged to Ethan Albarado and Lucas Graves. Coonie tapped his pencil against his desk, eyes narrowed. "Where the hell are those two?" he muttered under his breath. He glanced at Kai, who raised an eyebrow, and then at Jeremy, who gave a slight shrug, though he too looked uneasy. Ethan and Lucas werent the type to ditch class without a reason. And on a day like thisjust days before the biggest tournamentany absence was suspicious. Coonie leaned back in his chair, brows furrowed as a thought echoed in his mind: "(Somethings off... Did they get pulled into something again?)" Whatever it was, it wasnt normal. And with everything that had been going on latelyrumors of kidnapping, etc...Coonie had a feeling this wasnt just a coincidence. Kai leaned over toward Coonie, his voice low enough to avoid catching the teachers attention. "Coonie, you said they were just late..." he said, glancing again at the empty chairs. "It looks like theyre really not coming to class today." Coonie exhaled slowly, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah... it looks like it," he admitted, his tone uneasy. "And its kinda sus, man. Ethan doesnt just skip school. Hes too serious for that." Jeremy, who had been quietly drumming his fingers on the desk, finally spoke up. "Are they... maybe at Brandons house again?" he asked, his voice edged with curiosity and concern. "I mean, Brandons been missing from training for days now. And when we stopped by his place, his mom wouldnt tell us anything. Just gave us that weird look." The three fell silent for a moment, the classroom noise fading into the background as a subtle tension built between them. Coonies eyes narrowed. "Whatevers going on... theyre hiding something. And I dont like being left in the dark." Kai looked down at his notebook, then back at the door as if half-expecting Ethan or Lucas to walk in any second. But the door didnt budge. .. Location: Oak Hill Academy C History Class (3rd Year) The history classroom smelled faintly of chalk dust and old wood. Rays of sunlight filtered through half-drawn blinds, casting thin stripes across rows of desks. The ceiling fan spun slowly above, barely cutting through the summer heat pressing against the windows. At the front of the room, Mr. Donahue, a stern but passionate teacher in his mid-50s, paced slowly in front of the whiteboard. His voice filled the room as he traced a timeline of American civil rights movements, writing in broad strokes. "...and by the late 1960s, the fragmentation of these movements reflected both their internal tensions and the external pressure they faced from systemic resistance..." Most students listened in varying degrees of interest or apathy, pens scratching quietly on notebooks. But near the back of the classroom, Aiden White leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward an empty seat across the aisle. "Looks like Evans not coming today," he muttered, half to himself, half to the others. Josh Turner, sitting beside him, followed his gaze. "Whats going on with him...?" he asked, frowning. Evan wasnt the type to skip lightly, especially with the tournament approaching. Ryan Taylor, slouched with one arm lazily draped over the back of his chair, glanced toward the same empty seat. His usual smirk was absent. "Brandons still absent too," Ryan added with a quiet sigh. His voice lacked its usual flirtatious liltmore subdued, almost heavy. For someone usually joking around or teasing classmates, his tone stood out. Aiden turned slightly in his chair, now watching Ryan instead of Evans empty spot. "You okay, man?" Ryan gave a tight shrug, forcing a lopsided grin. "Yeah... its just weird not seeing him around. Josh glanced around, lowering his voice. "Are... you think Evan went to Brandons house too?" Aiden tilted his head, thoughtful. "Why would he? I mean, Ethan made it clear: if Brandons not in the gym, we all go together. No solo missions." Josh nodded slowly. "Thats a good point..." Mr. Donahue raised his voice slightly at the front, sensing some inattentiveness. "and can anyone tell me what led to the escalation of protests in 1968?" A student in the front row cautiously raised a hand. "Was it after Dr. Kings assassination?" "Correct," Mr. Donahue replied, nodding. "That event was a national turning point and intensified the urgency of grassroots action across the country..." But in the back, the three basketball players werent really listening anymore. Their thoughts were elsewhereon missing teammates, unanswered texts, and the strange silence that seemed to be settling over their group. The classroom carried on as usual. But for them, something wasnt right. .... [Carter Family side] The golden morning sun filtered in through the blinds, but the Carter household remained shrouded in a heavy fog of exhaustion and worry. Eddie Carter, principal of Crescent Ridge Academy, sat on the edge of the couch lacing up his polished dress shoes. His navy blazer lay tossed over a chair, untouched. Normally by 9:00 AM, hed be on campus, overseeing drills or evaluating recruits. But today, like the last few days, he wasnt Principal Carter. He was just a fathertired, desperate, and out of answers. Jalen Carter, 15, sat silently at the kitchen table, his elbows resting on a folded map. His trademark hoodie was wrinkled and dirty, hair uncombed, dark circles shadowing his sharp eyes. He hadnt touched the eggs his mother made him. His mind wasnt hereit was out there, still chasing every shadow that might lead to his brother. Across from him, Natalie "Nattie" Carter, 14, stirred a spoon around her cereal bowl without eating. She hadnt said much all morning. Her phone sat on the table, the wallpaper still a photo of her, Jalen, and Caleb from a beach trip last year. Her other hand gripped a crumpled flyer bearing her brothers face. Eddie stood, smoothing his shirt. "Ill start with the trail near the school today. Maybe someone there saw something." His voice was calm, professionaltoo professional. That meant he was barely holding it together. Jalen rose. "Im coming with you. We missed the warehouse yesterday." Eddie looked at his son, proud even in pain. "Okay. Grab your shoes." Nattie stood as well. "Me too. I can check the convenience stores. Leave posters. Someone mightve seen him." "No." Linna turned. Her voice cracked. "You stay here. What if... what if someone calls?" "You said that yesterday," Nattie whispered. "No one called." There was a long silence. Eddie finally broke it. "We all go today. Caleb wouldnt wait around. So neither will we." Outside, the town of Mouth of Wilson was already stirringkids heading to basketball training, Crescent Ridges scouts reviewing morning footage. But for the Carters, time had stopped. They werent chasing championships today. They were chasing their son. .. Meanwhile The gym was filled with the faint echo of sneakers on hardwood, but there was no rhythm today. The usual intensity was missing. The Chicago Raptors, Crescent Ridges premier team, was supposed to be hitting their marks, running through scrimmages, and preparing for their next big game. But instead, they stood like pieces on a chessboardjust moving through the motions, waiting for someone to make the next move. Coach Jenkins, a no-nonsense, stoic leader of the team, blew his whistle sharply, cutting through the silence. "Tyrese! Malik! Youre not moving your feet fast enough!" Tyrese Lang, the SG, known as "The Ghost Shooter", barely acknowledged the coachs command. His focus was clearly elsewherehis shooting drills were slower, the usual crisp off-ball movement absent. He looked like a ghost of himself, more a figure moving through the motions than a weapon on the court. He muttered under his breath, "Where is Jalen?" Malik Ryker, the SF known as "The Lock", adjusted his position on the wing, but his eyes kept darting to the empty spot where their captain, Jalen Carter, would usually be standing. Maliks defense was sharp, his lateral speed a blur when he was locked inbut today, his usual intensity was dull. The absence of Jalens leadership was weighing on him, and it showed in his game. "You dont think somethings happened, do you?" Maliks voice was low, uncertain. Zion Vale, the 15-year-old PF known as "The Chessboard", sat on the sideline, head in his hands. His IQ and vision on the court were usually his greatest strengthshe saw the game as if it were a chess match, moving his teammates around as pieces on a board. But without Jalen, the strategy felt incomplete. He glanced over at Kobe "Tower" Morales, the C known as "Twin Pillar", who was standing silently in the paint, as stoic as ever. Kobe was the anchor, always steady, always quietbut even his post presence seemed less imposing today. Kobes voice cut through the silence. "Weve been running like this for days. Its not the same without him." Coach Jenkins stood there, arms crossed, eyes flicking over each of the players. He could feel the shift in the air. The Raptors were used to having Jalen Carter leading themnot just as their ace, but as their captain. His presence demanded attention, respect. When Jalen was on the floor, they knew the game would be controlled, directed, and dominated. Without him, it felt like the foundation was cracked. Coach Jenkins spoke, his voice calm but heavy. "You cant keep waiting for someone to show up, boys. You all have to step up." Tyrese looked up, shaking his head. "Its not about stepping up. Jalen leads us. Without him... how do we even play?" Zion stood up slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Coach is right, though. Weve been through worse. We cant let this mess with our heads. Jalens gone, but were still the Raptors. We still have a job to do." Malik gave a half-hearted nod, his usual fire dimmed by the worry. "We cant play like this. Its not just Jalen. Its Principal too. Were missing both of them." The room was silent for a moment, the players lost in their thoughts. They couldnt shake the unease gnawing at them. Their star player, their captain, was nowhere to be found, and the driving force behind their programPrincipal Eddie Carter, their coachs closest allywas also MIA. Coach Jenkins let out a sigh, wiping a hand down his face. "Alright. Take a break. Well figure it out. But you better bring your focus, every one of you. We dont wait for someone to come save us. We save ourselves." The players slowly began to disperse, some retreating to the bleachers, others tossing basketballs to one another, but the air in the gym was thick with tension. They werent just a team; they were a family, and right now, they felt like theyd lost their way. Noah Davies, the 16-year-old manager, stood by the sidelines, watching it all unfold. His mind was racingthere was something bigger going on. He pulled out his phone once more, checking the texts from earlier in the week. Hed been trying to reach Jalen, but no replies. Noah glanced toward the locker room door, his eyes narrowing in thought. "This isnt just about basketball anymore," he murmured to himself. "We need answers." To be continue Chapter 98 - 85: Syndicate Arc (8) Chapter 98: Chapter 85: Syndicate Arc (8) The containment tube hissed, releasing a plume of vapor as its glass casing slid open with a metallic screech. A thin figure slumped out, landing hard on the cold floor. A boymaybe nine or ten. His frame was gaunt, spine arched unnaturally from the thick metallic brace fused into his back. Wires and tubes hung from his arms like the remnants of a cruel experiment. Brandons breath caught. "What... the hell is this place?" Ethan knelt down, gently placing a hand on the boys shoulder. The child twitched, flinching at contact, but didnt resist. He was alive. Barely. Behind them, Charles Freeman watched like a curator admiring his collection. "Prototype Batch A." He said it like he was talking about equipment. "Kids like him were the first. Abandoned. Forgotten. No one came for them." His gaze turned sharp. "Just like no ones coming for you." Ethan stood up slowly, fists clenched. "Youre sick." Charles smiled, unbothered. "Caleb is next," he said. "Your little journey here... was all predetermined. And youre too late. Hes already isolated in the east wing. That room? No windows, no exits. Except for mine." He tapped the side of his watch. "And Im the only one with the key." ..... The steel door groaned on its hinges, echoing through the dim corridor as it creaked just wide enough for Lucas Graves to slip through. He moved like a shadow, silent, focused. Louie followed close behind, crouched low, fists clenched, his breaths shallow with tension. Evan brought up the rear, eyes constantly scanning, brain racing with backup plans. The air inside was wrongthick, heavy. The scent of rust, disinfectant, and something faintly chemical clung to every surface. Pipes hissed overhead, and faded red emergency lights blinked slowly like a heartbeat. Then, distantbut unmistakable "AHHH!" A voice. CLANG. Louie froze. His fists trembled. His voice was hoarse with rage. "That was Ethan." Evan gave a grim nod. "Were close. But if there are more-" "I dont care," Louie growled. "Were going to help him. Even if I have to take down every one of them myself." Lucas turned, catching Louies face in the pulsing red light. His expression wasnt just angry. It was personal like every emotion he never had a chance to say to Ethan was boiling to the surface. "Lets go," Lucas whispered. They advanced, silent as smoke, hugging the walls. Machinery hummed behind sealed doors. Some were ajar, revealing tables with restraints, broken monitors, pages full of incoherent scrawls and strange anatomical diagramsnot of adults... but kids. Then Footsteps. Heavy. Multiple. Coming fast. Lucass eyes snapped left. He shoved Louie and Evan into the shadows behind a dented storage locker just in time. Three men stormed past, dressed in mismatched combat gear. Not pros. Kinda like mercenariesscarred, mean-eyed, the kind hired to follow orders without asking questions. Electric batons buzzed at their sides, and radios crackled static. One grunted, "Freeman said lock the west hall. Nobody gets near the chamber." Their footsteps faded. Evan leaned in, voice barely audible. "Theyre protecting something. Thats not just a lab." Lucas narrowed his gaze. "Then we break through." They sprinted the second the coast was clearpast broken cameras, shattered lights, and halls that seemed to twist like a maze. Then They saw it. A massive, reinforced door, the kind used in bunkers, stood slightly ajar. Pale blue-white light spilled out like smoke. Inside, they could hear the clash of metal, the sharp crack of something breaking And voices. Ethan. Brandon. Lucas turned to Louie and Evan. "Ready?" Louie rolled his neck. Cracked his knuckles. "Lets end this." Lucas pushed the door open And the nightmare within was waiting. As the door creaked open with a heavy groan, and inside, the nightmare was worse than anything they could have imagined. Ethan stood in the center of the room, battered and bloody. His fists were clenched, but he looked unsteady, swaying on his feet. His shirt was ripped, and his face was smeared with blood. Brandon, also beaten and bruised, stood protectively in front of a row of children. The children were no longer in shackles, but they stood motionless, their eyes glowing white, staring blankly ahead. The children moved stiffly, like puppets with their strings pulled too tight. The sound of fluid dripping from tubes echoed in the quiet room. Their faces were pale, and they looked unnatural, as if their minds were erased, leaving only empty shells. Freeman stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with a dark grin on his face. His cold eyes were fixed on Ethan. "Just as I expected," Freeman said, his voice calm but dripping with satisfaction. "They are indeed great product." Lucas stepped forward, eyes scanning the room. He saw the blood, the vacant faces of the children, and Ethan standing in the middle of it all. "Whats going on here?" Lucas asked, his voice tight. ..... Back few minutes ago Ethans heart pounded as he knelt beside the boy, his hand trembling as it rested on the childs cold, lifeless shoulder. The boys body was stiff, unmoving. His eyes were closed. The boys mouth parted slightly, a faint rasp escaping his throatfragments of sound that barely pierced the silence. "Help..." Ethans breath caught in his throat. The word was barely audible, but it was enough to ignite a spark of hope deep inside him. The boys hand twitched involuntarily, but then fell still again. Ethans fingers curled tightly around his arm. "Im here," he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. "Im here." Ethans gaze shifted from Freeman to the boy, his chest tightening with a mix of rage and dread. For a moment, he wasnt sure if it was the horror of Freemans actions or the fear of what was to come that paralyzed him. Suddenly, the boys eyes snapped openwhite, empty, devoid of life. His body jerked violently, but no sound came from his mouth. It sent a chill crawling down Ethans spine. "What the hell did you do to him?!" Brandons voice cracked, a blend of fury and disbelief. For a moment, Freemans face softened, almost nostalgicas if lost in a painful memory. His dark eyes met Ethans, filled with an intensity that spoke of years of regret. "There was a time," Freeman murmured, "when I believed in fairness. In training. In hard work. I coached kids who had nothing, made them believe they could win if they just pushed hard enough. But it was all a lie." He paused, bitterness creeping into his voice. "No matter what we didno matter how hard we trainedthere was always one man we couldnt beat my friend." "Eddie Carter" Freemans voice dropped, laden with resentment. "I became a coach. Then a principal. But I still couldnt win. Because of his son. Jalen Carter. The ace of the Chicago Raptors. We always fought against them in the regionals... and I always lost." The sadness in Freemans voice grew, a tremor of emotion breaking through. "Do you know what its like to be haunted by the same name? Year after year, hearing it chanted like a hymn? Watching your kids cry in the locker room, knowing its your fault because you werent enough?" A cold smile crept across Freemans face. "So I stopped trying to win fairly. I used Gregs drugs to create the ultimate weapon. A weapon that could win. But unlike Gregs drugs... these kids dont have side effects. They dont think. They dont feel. They dont talk. They just listen. Like puppets. Ready to fight." He stepped closer to Ethan and the twitching boy. "Theyre not people anymore. Theyre tools. Soldiers with no emotions. No distractions. No hesitation." Ethans fists clenched at his sides, his body shaking with a mix of fury and disbelief. The room around him felt like a nightmare. Five glass containment tubes stood in a row, faintly glowing green. Inside each one... Children. Hunched. Shackled. Their limbs hung limply. Their backs arched unnaturally, metallic braces fused into their spines. Tubes snaked from their arms and necks, dripping a thick, clear liquid into their veins. Their eyes were closedempty of light. Empty of everything. The air in the room shiftedheavier, oppressive. Behind Freeman stood five cylindrical glass containment tubes, glowing faint green. Inside each one: a child. Ethans breath caught. Rage swelled in his chest like a storm. These werent athletes. They were prisoners. They were experiments. And one of themthe one who had whispered "Help"was still half-awake. Without thinking, Ethan lunged toward the nearest tube. His fist slammed against the steel frame with a metallic CLANG. "AHHH!" CLANG. Sparks flew. The glass trembled. Inside, the boy flinchedhis eyes fluttered, just for a second. There was something behind the glow. A flicker. A shred of self. Then it vanished. Freeman didnt flinch. He stood motionless, arms crossed, watching Ethans outburst with an unreadable expression. There was something unsettling in the way his lips curledwas it amusement? Or something darker? "Youre emotional," Freeman said, his voice eerily calm. "Thats why youll lose." Ethans heart pounded in his chest as he backed away from the tube, his breath ragged. His body burned with the need to actto stop this madness. But the weight of the situation was suffocating. He was out of his depth, trapped in a nightmare he couldnt escape. "Youre not a coach or a principal," he spat, his voice raw with anger. "Youre a coward hiding behind puppets." Freemans eyes narrowed, and for the first time, Ethan saw a flicker of rage in them. He sneered, revealing his true nature. "I am a visionary," Freeman hissed. "And they... they will be my masterpiece." Brandon took a step forward, fists clenched, his voice trembling with fury. "You think this is art?!" he shouted. "You think warping innocent lives into... into this makes you a genius?!" Freemans smile deepened. "Genius?" he repeated. "No. Im necessity. Evolution always demands sacrifice." Then the floor beneath them trembled. Ethan turned as the walls shifted. Mechanical arms sleek and spider-like descended from above, this spider-like appendages unlatched the children from their restraints. Clamps hissed open. Shackles fell to the floor with dull clinks. The machines lowered the tubes slowly, gently, almost reverently as the limp bodies of the children were laid upright like mannequins. Tubes retracted. Wires slithered away like snakes. A cold silence followed. Then Their eyes snapped open. All glowing white. Ethan staggered back instinctively. The children stood but not of their own will. Their movements were stiff, jarring. As if some invisible force pulled invisible strings tied to their limbs. "Stop it!" Brandon barked, stepping toward Freeman. "Turn it off!" But Freeman simply chuckled. "There is no off. There is only the program." The first child moved forward. Then another. A dozen in all. They advanced slowly, deliberately, as if guided by some coded instinct. One lunged. Ethan dodged, barely avoiding a strike aimed at his neck. Another followed, grabbing his arm with unnatural strength. Brandon shouted and tore the child off of him, but was tackled by two more. The room descended into chaos. They werent trying to killthey were testing. Learning. Adapting. Ethan landed a punch to a childs chest, immediately regretting it as the small body crumpled, only to rise again moments laterexpression blank, eyes glowing. Blood dripped from Ethans lip. A sharp jab caught him in the ribs. Another sent him sprawling against a control panel. "Ethan!" Brandon cried,breath ragged. He fought with restraint, blocking, disarmingnever aiming to hurt. "Theyre still kids!" "I know!" Ethan shouted back, breathless. "But if we dont stop them!" The children suddenly froze mid-motion. Freeman raised a small remote, thumb hovering over a single red button. "Dont worry. This was only a preview." Then he pressed it. A pulse of energy rippled through the room. The children collapsedthen slowly rose again. Their movements were smoother now. Controlled. Unified. A line of children stood motionless. In perfect formation. Including the boy Ethan had tried to save. His eyes glowed like the others. His mouth hung slack. The light inside himgone. Ethan, bruised and bleeding, rose shakily to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. His shirt was torn. Brandon stood beside him, panting, bruises blossoming on his face and arms. The children stood in a line, eyes white, blank and unseeing. They had been freedbut not saved. Their minds were gone, overwritten by whatever Freeman had done. The sound of fluid dripping from the now-abandoned IVs echoed in the silence. Freeman stepped back, arms crossed, satisfaction etched across his face. "Just as I expected," he said with cold pride. "They are indeed great product." At that moment, the door creaked open. Lucas stepped inside, his eyes sweeping over the wreckagethe blood, the broken machinery, the vacant stares of the childrenand Ethan, swaying on his feet at the heart of it all. Lucass voice was tight. "Whats going on here?" To be continue Chapter 99 - 86: Syndicate Arc (9) Chapter 99: Chapter 86: Syndicate Arc (9) The gym was quiet except for the soft sound of a basketball bouncing on the hardwood. Charlotte Graves was at center court, alone, practicing like she always did before the sun came up. Her short black hair was damp with sweat, and her silver eyes were sharp with focus. She moved with purposeeach step and dribble full of intent. At just fifteen years old and already in her third year, Charlotte wasnt just another playershe was a symbol. The Captain of the Thunderhawks, known by many names: "The Commander Hawk," "Silver Falcon," and just "C.G." She didnt speak often. But when she did, people listened. On the court, she led with action, not words. Charlotte took a deep breath and got to work. She started dribbling at a fast pace, feet light, eyes forward. Crossoverthe ball snapped from her right hand to her left. Between the legsquick switch in direction. Behind the backclean, smooth, like shed done it a thousand times. Then a fast spin move, and she darted toward the hoop. No defender. No noise. Just the sound of the ball, the floor, and her breath. As she moved, she pictured her teammates: Izzy, deadly with her quick shot. Lena, tough as nails on defense. Sakura, strong in the paint. Carmen, the wall at center. Everyone was showing up. The team was ready. But... One person was missing. Again. Natalie "Nattie" Carter. Charlotte came to a stop near the baseline, the ball under her hand, her heart suddenly heavy. So many days has passed by No Natalie at practice. No texts. No calls. No explanation. It wasnt like her. Natalie was the kind of player who never missed a workout, who was always moving, always shooting. She wasnt just a forwardshe was a part of the teams soul. Charlotte looked over her shoulder as her teammates began to arrive. Izzy Moreno walked in, earbuds in, heading straight for her corner to shoot. Lena Kowalski was already doing defensive slides down the sideline, her eyes full of fire. Sakura Tanaka and Carmen Delgado headed to the post to work on rebounding drills. Even the bench players were stretching and warming up. But still... No Natalie. Charlotte moved back to half-court and started passing drills against the wall. Chest pass. Bounce pass. Overhead pass. Again. And again. The ball slammed the wall, bounced back into her hands, and she fired it off again. She didnt say it out loud, but the whole team felt it: Something wasnt right. A few minutes later, everyone gathered around half-court for a quick meeting. "Anything from Nattie?" Carmen asked, wiping sweat from her brow. Charlotte shook her head. Izzy frowned. "I called her last night. No answer." Lena crossed her arms, her tone sharp. "Its not just skipping practice. Somethings going on. She wouldnt just vanish like this. Just then, Coach Lory walked into the gym, whistle around her neck and a clipboard in her hand. She clapped once, loud. "Lets go, Thunderhawks! Scrimmage time! Charlotte, set it up." Charlotte nodded, grabbing the ball and turning to her team. Her voice was calm but firm. "Delta Hawk," she said. "Motion left. Izzy takes the baseline. Lena swings high. Carmen post up. Sakura, screen top." Everyone moved to their spots. The scrimmage started. Charlotte ran the offense like a conductor leading an orchestra. Crossover, drive, bounce pass to Izzyshot. Spin move into the lanedefender bites. Overhead pass to Carmenlayup. It was clean. Sharp. The Thunderhawks looked like a well-oiled machine. But Charlotte could feel it. A rhythm was missing. Natalies rhythm. After a few plays, Coach Lory blew the whistle. "Pause." She waved Charlotte over. Charlotte jogged to the sideline, wiping sweat from her face. Coach Lory gave her a long look. "I know what youre going to ask." Charlotte didnt speak, just waited. Coach sighed. "Still nothing official. Just that shes excused for personal reasons. Im not getting any more than that." Charlottes jaw tightened slightly. "Do we know if shes okay?" Coach Lory shook her head. "I wish I could say. But this isnt like a twisted ankle or a family trip. Its... different. Confidential. Im being told not to push." There was a silence between them for a moment. Charlotte looked back at her team. They were laughing, stretching, refilling water bottlesbut there was a quiet unease behind their eyes. Coach Lory stepped closer. Her voice was softer now. "Listen, Charlotte. This team? It runs because of you. They follow your lead. Whether Natalie comes back or not... they need you to keep them focused. Can you do that?" Charlotte nodded, slow but sure. "Yes, Coach." Coach smiled faintly. "I know you will. Youre not just the captainyoure the anchor." Charlotte turned back toward the court and whispered to herself: "Then I wont let us drift." The scrimmage picked back up. Charlotte moved with even more intensity. Behind the back, spin, quick bounce pass. Crossover, fake pass, chest pass to the corner. Step-back, overhead pass to Sakuraopen shot. Every play was tight. Sharp. Perfectly timed. But no matter how well they moved, how strong they looked... There was still an empty space. A spot where Natalie would usually be cutting, shooting, runningalways moving. Charlotte didnt say anything. She didnt need to. The team felt it too. And somewhere deep down, she knew one thing for sure: They were going to need her. And Charlotte wasnt going to stop until they were all back together again. ..... Next to her, Jalen Carter, her older brother, held a rolled-up missing poster in one hand. His Oak Hill practice jersey peeked out beneath a light jacket. He hadnt stepped on a court since his little brother disappeared. "I checked the rec center," Natalie said, eyes on the road. "Coach Lory said he hadnt seen Caleb since the last youth session. That was six days ago." Jalen didnt look up. "I checked the bus station again. Same thing. The guy behind the counter was like, We already told you, kid." She sighed and sat on the curb beside her. "Were running out of places." "I know." The air was still. Behind them, the River Mart convenience store played old pop music from a dusty speaker above the door. A couple kids passed by on bikes, one of them bouncing a basketball. Natalie stared at it. "I shouldve stayed home that day," she muttered. "I told him to leave me alone. I had a match to prep for. I just wanted him quiet." Jalen didnt answer at first. Then he said quietly, "I told him Id take him to practice. I was late. I figured hed be fine waiting." They both went quiet. The guilt sat between them like a third person. "He was eleven, Brother," Natalie whispered. "Eleven." "I know," Jalen said. "Hes smart. He wouldnt go far." Said, trying to ease his sister. "Its been days," she replied, looking up finally. "Smart doesnt matter anymore." Jalen stood. "Lets go. Theres a couple old warehouses behind the diner. If someone dragged him in" "Dont say that," she snapped. "Please." He nodded. "Sorry." They started walking again, past empty storefronts and slow-moving traffic. Natalie looked around, her eyes scanning every corner like she was waiting to see her little brothers red jacket pop out of a crowd. A car pulled up behind thema Toyota then their dad stepped out. "Nothing?" Eddie Carter asked. Jalen shook his head. "No ones seen him." Eddie handed Natalie a fresh stack of posters. "Print shop made more. Drop these off at the diner, the barbershop, and that gas station near the middle school." Natalie took them wordlessly. Her eyes were rimmed with red. "You okay?" Eddie asked gently. She didnt answer. She just walked away. Eddie turned to Jalen. "Youve covered the trail by the school?" "Yeah. Checked the bus stop, the warehouse, even talked to the guy who runs the used CD shop." Eddie nodded. "Alright. Come on. Lets hit the lake path." Back inside the car, Natalie stared out the window. Her phone buzzedanother dead lead from a Facebook post. Someone "mightve" seen a kid in a red hoodie near the woods two days ago, but no one followed up. Natalie turned her phone face-down. As the car rolled through the small Virginia town, the missing posters fluttered on every wall and window. A town full of basketball dreams now held its breath, hoping one boy would come home. Somewhere beyond the roads, beyond the screens, beyond the reach of family Caleb Carter was still out there. .. Site E, East Wing Caleb Carter The silence in the room was a second skin. Thick. Suffocating. Caleb lay still on the concrete floor, the rope frayed slightly from hours of slow twisting. His wrists were raw, but hed managed to loosen the bindingsenough to get a hand free if he tried again. But he didnt move yet. He listened. To the hum of the ventilation above him. The scuttling of something small and alive near the crates. His own shallow breath, trembling in his throat. And beneath all of it, the memory of a voice. Freeman. "Youre here because of your father" Caleb closed his eyes. Not to cry. He had done that already. Quietly. When the lights first went out. When Freeman left the room with his whistle swinging and the locks clicking shut. That was two hours ago. Maybe more. He didnt know. Time didnt exist in this place. Just fear. Just cold. Just the dark. But inside that dark, something else had started to grow. Not hope. Not yet. But decision. He was eleven years old, and he didnt have anyone coming for him. No sirens. No secret team. No Dad busting through the wall like a superhero. Maybe they didnt even know he was gone. That hurt more than the rope burns. Still... he had his hands. He had his breath. He had the echo of his fathers words. "Your mind is the last thing they cant chain. Use it." He gritted his teeth and pulled. The rope scraped his skin as it slid tighterthen gave. One hand slipped free. He gasped. Then sat up, slow, careful, like a deer in a clearing. One eye on the door. One hand on the crate beside him. He didnt know what was behind that door. But he was going to be ready for it. If no one was coming Hed escape on his own. He stood for the first time in hours. Legs shaking. Bare feet pressing against cold concrete. Not a hero. Not a fighter. Just a scared kid... learning how not to be. .... The top floor of the BAC U.S. Training Complex shimmered with a quiet, futuristic calm. Though it was 2010, the facility stood a few years ahead of its timetouch-responsive glass panels, silent gliders zipping over the training courts, and biometric logs displayed across translucent screens. At the center of it all stood the executive boardroom: stark white, polished steel, and silent as a church. Romanov Graves, Executive Director of BACs U.S. branch, stood before a wide terminal, her fingers pinching across a digital map. Her gaze was sharp, lips drawn, posture firmuntil a call interrupted the silence. The voice on the other end was low and slightly breathless. "Maam. This is Norris. Ive been assigned shadow duty on Lucas." Romanovs brows lifted just slightly. "Report." "We were returning from morning drills. He got a ping on his school devicenothing standard, no BAC encryption. He broke from his school near the east trail. I followed per protocol." Romanovs tone cooled. "And?" "He slipped through the old fence line. ended up near Site E." Romanov stilled. "Site E...?" To be continue Chapter 100 - 87: Syndicate Arc (10) Chapter 100: Chapter 87: Syndicate Arc (10) 10:30 AM C BAC U.S. Training Complex, Imperial Crest, Virginia Romanov stilled. "Site E...?" "Director. I uh Lucas ... He followed a boy named Ethan Albarado into Site E. Ive been tracking them, and the situation is worse than we thought. The sites crawling with mercenaries." Romanovs stomach dropped. The world seemed to close in around her as she heard about Lucas name. Her heart pounded as she forced herself to stay calm. "Norris, wheres Lucas now?" Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the worry she was desperately trying to control. "Im keeping an eye on them. " Romanovs fingers trembled slightly as she gripped the edge of the desk. "Who owns it?" "Freeman, they said... Thats the one who owns the site. Charles Freeman. I interrogated one of the mercenaries. Its himthe principal of San Diego." Romanov felt a wave of disbelief. Charles Freeman. The same name that had been associated with a respected educational figuresomeone seemingly above suspicion. How could it be him? Shed known of Freeman, heard his name mentioned only in the context of his work in education, as a principal, a figure of authority. The thought that he might be involved in something this sinister, hidden away in a place like Site E, was impossible to grasp. "Freeman?" Romanov whispered to herself. She shook her head, trying to process the shock. "But... thats not possible." Norriss voice broke through her haze. "Its him, Director. This place, this whole operationits his. Im trying to keep a safe distance, but I need backup. This is bigger than I thought." Romanovs mind raced. Her son was inside that dangerous facility, and the one person she trusted to keep him safe was now telling her that the situation was even worse than she could have imagined. She fought back the rising panic, her thoughts jumping from one possibility to the next. "Get to Lucas. Follow him. Dont let him out of your sight." Her voice was shaky now, but it was filled with authority. "Stay in contact. Backup will be there soon." Her eyes were wide, panic making it harder to focus as she paced the length of her office. She knew she had to act fast. She had to get Lucas out of there. No more waiting. Not this time. She didnt give Norris another chance to respond before she ended the call. Romanov stared at the view beyond her office, her heart a whirlwind of emotions. She couldnt let her son down. She couldnt lose him. Her hands were trembling now, her mind caught between disbelief and the overwhelming fear of losing Lucas. She had never been more terrified in her life. Site E. Her son was somewhere inside that place, and she couldnt shake the feeling that they were running out of time. Romanov ran her fingers through her dark hair, her mind turning over the same thought again and again. (Just like that day again? Nonono, I cant let that happened again") She had always kept her family safe. But this... this was something she couldnt control. And she feared the consequences if she didnt act fast. ..... The metal door creaked open, its heavy sound echoing through the silence. Lucas Graves stepped into the room, his eyes immediately scanning the wreckage before him. He froze. Behind him, Louie and Evan halted as well, their eyes wide with shock and confusion. The scene before them was like something out of a nightmare. The air was thick with the smell of blood and the bitter tang of ozone from the sparking wires that littered the room. Shattered containment tubes lay in disarray, glass shards glittering like jagged teeth against the cold floor. Blood was smeared across cracked tiles, and faintly glowing green tubes were sprawled across the room like discarded remnants of some dark experiment gone wrong. But it was the children that grabbed their attention. These Children stood in perfect formation near the far wall, their faces as hollow and lifeless as the space between stars. Their eyesblank, glowing whitepierced the darkness with an eerie, empty stare. They were motionless. Silent. Completely unseeing. Yet, amidst the chaos, it was Ethan that caught Louies gaze. Ethan stood near the center of the room, barely able to stand on his own. His shirt was torn, blood seeping from a wound on his side, staining the fabric a deep crimson. One eye was swollen shut, his face smeared with the remnants of his struggle, blood dripping slowly from a cut on his lip. His stance was unsteady, his breathing ragged as he gripped his side, clearly in pain. His appearance was battered, bruisedfighting not just exhaustion but the weight of something far darker. Louies stomach dropped like a stone. "Ethan...?" Louie whispered, his voice barely audible in the tense atmosphere. Ethan turned slowly, his eyes first finding Lucasthen Louie. There was something in his gaze, something hollow and desperate behind those furious eyes, something that seemed to scream without a sound. "Lucas..." he rasped, the words coming out ragged, as if every breath was a battle. Lucass jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing with a mix of concern and confusion. Something was wrongvery wrong. "I said, whats going on here?" Lucass voice was sharp, a quiet storm gathering in his tone as he stepped further into the room, his feet crunching on the glass shards beneath him. Freeman, who had been standing motionless near a console, now moved. He straightened his blazer with deliberate care, brushing a speck of dust from the cuff of his sleeve as though none of this madness concerned him. His expression remained unreadablea cold, detached presence amidst the carnage. Evans face twisted in recognition and confusion. "Wait... is that...?" He squinted, stepping forward, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Youre Principal Freeman?" he asked, voice tight. "From San Diego, right? Coach Fred used to talk about yousaid you were some kind of legend. You were Eddie Carters best friend. A good man." Freeman chuckled quietly, the sound almost... hollow. "That was a long time ago." His eyes flicked dismissively from Evan to the children. There was no warmth in his gaze. Only a dark, unsettling satisfaction. Lucas turned sharply to Evan. "You know him?" "Yeah," Evan answered slowly, his expression darkening. "At leastI thought I did." Freemans smile didnt reach his eyes. His tone, when he spoke, was measuredcold. "The world changes, boys. Good men dont stay good when the systems built to break them." Louies fists trembled at his sides, his wide brown eyes flicking between the children, now standing motionless like lifeless statues, and Ethans bloodied form. Confusion and anger swirled in his chest. He didnt understand everythingdidnt understand how it had come to thisbut he understood enough. "You hurt these children and..." Louies voice cracked, barely holding together. "Ethan..." Freemans eyes dropped to the small boy standing before him. Louies words were filled with raw emotion, and Freeman said nothing in response, his gaze unreadable. He didnt even blink. "Ethan..." Louies voice rose, his chest heaving. "What did you do to him!?" He took a step forward, positioning himself between Freeman and Ethan, his small body barely a shield against the towering figure of the man who had orchestrated this nightmare. But Louie wasnt afraid. Not anymore. "You dont get to touch him," Louie said, his voice a steady, quiet fury. "Not ever again." Freeman didnt move. He didnt even flinch, his face as cold and emotionless as ever. But LucasLucas was a different story. His usual sunny, hopeful expression had vanished entirely. In its place was a storm brewing, a storm that could destroy anything in its path. Lucas turned to the five children, standing in perfect formation. Their eyes glowed unnaturally white, their movements stiff and mechanical, as if their very souls had been erased. The sight of them stirred something deep within him. He had to know what Freeman had done to them. His voice was tight, laced with controlled fury as he demanded, "What did you do to them?" Freemans cold eyes flicked toward Lucas, the corner of his mouth lifting into something that barely resembled a smile. He studied Lucas for a moment, as though savoring the tension. Then, his lips parted, the name slipping from his mouth like venom. "Lucas Graves... ah... back to the memories... your father, Roman Graves," Freeman said, the words dripping with a calculated mixture of nostalgia and mockery. Lucass eyes widened slightly at Freemans mention of his father. His pulse quickened, and a mix of confusion and rage swept through him. "What...?" Lucas began, his voice catching for a moment. "You know my father!!" Freemans lips curled into a thin smile, but there was no warmth in itonly cold amusement. His eyes flicked briefly to the children, then back to Lucas. "Ah... Roman Graves," he said, his tone almost nostalgic, though tinged with something darker. "I remember him well. A true athlete, one who knew the very essence of competition. Until... Well that was a long time ago, wasnt it?" Lucass fists clenched at his sides. He could feel the heat rise in his chest, the unanswered questions threatening to consume him. "What does he have to do with this?" he asked through gritted teeth. "You said my father. Why does that matter?" Freeman chuckled softly, as if the question were beneath him. "Enough of the memories, Lucas," he said dismissively, raising a hand. "The past is irrelevant now. What youre asking me, about these children? About what Ive done to them?" His expression hardened, turning cold and calculating. "Its simple. Evolution." Freeman stepped closer to the motionless children, his hands gesturing around them as he spoke. "These children," he said, his voice dripping with pride, "they are the future. A future where the limitations of the human bodyof any bodyare transcended. They are more than just human. They are something more... adaptable. Something that can change basketball." Lucass heart sank as the implications of Freemans words hit him like a ton of bricks. The children, their vacant stares, their eerie stillnessthey werent just victims. They were experiments. Weapons. "What the hell are you talking about?" Lucas spat, taking a step forward. "This isnt evolution. Youre turning them intointo some... freaks!" Freemans eyes gleamed with satisfaction, the corners of his lips curling upward. "Freaks? No, Lucas," he said, his voice smooth and silky, as if he were explaining a childs science project. "These children are evolved. Theyre enhanced perfected. Every part of them, every single part of them, has been... improved." He glanced over at Ethan, whose bloodied form was now slumped against the wall, his body sagging under the weight of both his injuries and the horror of what hed seen. "And you, Ethan... youre already starting to see it, arent you?" Freeman said, his tone suddenly cold and mocking. Ethan gritted his teeth, but said nothing. His bruised and battered face said everythingit was the look of someone who had been forced to witness the madness unfold before them, powerless to stop it. Freeman turned back to Lucas. "Do you really think this is wrong?" he asked, his voice deceptively gentle. "Look at them. Theyre stronger, faster. They can learn, adapt, evolve faster than any of you ever could. In basketball, thats everything. Speed, skill, strategy... theyll surpass all the current players in the blink of an eye." "Youre insane," Lucas snapped, shaking his head in disbelief. "You cant just create players like this. People arent just machines you can modify!" Freemans smile widened. "Who said theyre just players?" He leaned in, his cold eyes locking onto Lucass. "You still dont understand. This... this is the future of the game. Theyll become more than just playerstheyll be unstoppable." The children, standing frozen in place, made no sound. No movement. It was as if they had been waiting for something. For orders. For the signal to act. Ethans voice broke through the tension in the room, hoarse but strong. "Youve turned them into robot, a tools" he said, his eyes burning with rage. "Theyre nothing but weapons to you." Freemans eyes flicked back to him, his grin fading slightly. "Robot? Tools? Weapons?" he repeated, his voice low. "No, no, Ethan. They are masterpieces. And when theyre unleashed... when theyve reached their full potential, theyll change everything. The game will evolve. Basketball will evolve. And when that happens... youll all be left in the dust." Lucas stepped forward again, anger building inside him. He couldnt let Freeman go on. He couldnt let him get away with this. "Not if I can stop you." Lucas muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Freeman. Freeman raised an eyebrow, his lips curling in a sinister smirk. "Stop me?" he repeated, the amusement still evident in his voice. "You can try, Lucas. But the truth is... its already too late. Theyve already begun. The next generation is here." At that moment, the childrenstill eerily motionlessbegan to stir. Their eyes shifted, pupils flickering with something more than just empty light. They started to move, slowly at first, as if waiting for the command. But when they finally stepped forward, the force of their movements was terrifying. And the sound of footsteps echoed behind Lucas as Louie and Evan stepped forward, ready to fight. The room felt charged with an electric tension, the air thick with unspoken promises of conflict. Lucass breath caught in his chest. The game, as Freeman had said, was about to change. To be continue Chapter 101 - 88: Syndicate Arc (11) Chapter 101: Chapter 88: Syndicate Arc (11) Ethan stirred from the floor, groaning. Blood ran down the side of his face, but he pushed himself upright with trembling arms. The effort alone was painful to watch. "Theyre not the next generation," Ethan said, voice ragged. "Theyre shackled by your delusions." Lucas ran to him, dropping beside him and gripping his shoulder. "Dont move. Youre hurt." Ethan shook his head, eyes fierce despite the damage. "Dont let him win." Lucas didnt answer. He didnt have to. Because at that moment, the command came. Freeman didnt speak it aloud. He didnt need to. A flick of his wrist. A glance. And the children responded. Their bodies moved with uncanny precision, like dancers in a dark ballet. No hesitation. No confusion. Just instinctive unity. Four of them charged. Lucas stood first, arms wide, stepping in front of Ethan. His heart pounded like a war drum, but his stance was solid. Louie and Evan flanked him instantly, shoulder to shoulder. "This is wrong," Brandon whispered. "Theyre kids, Louie." "I know," Louie said. "But right now, theyre going to hurt people. We stop them. And then we save them." The first impact came fasta blur of movement, a child lunging low at Evan. He spun aside, barely dodging the strike, and countered with a sweep of his leg that sent the attacker tumbling. The child hit the ground but rolled to their feet in an instant, eerily silent. Another closed in on Lucas, arms snapping out in sharp, unnatural angles. Lucas blocked the first blow, but the force rattled up his arm. This wasnt a normal fight. These kids had strengthreflexesthat far outstripped their size. "Theyre enhanced..." he hissed, bracing himself. "Just like Freeman said." "But theyre not invincible," Evan growled, catching a punch from the smallest girl in the group. He grunted as the impact jolted through him. "We hold them back! Dont hurt them more than we have to!" The fight turned brutal fastclose quarters, no time to breathe. The children fought in silence, with mechanical precision. It wasnt like any basketball game theyd ever played. This wasnt about speed or skill. It was survival. Lucas ducked a kick, rolled, and came up behind one of the kids, pinning him gently but firmly to the ground. "Stop!" he pleaded. "Please, just stop!" The boy didnt cry out. Didnt fight back. He just stared up at Lucas with those strange, altered eyes. It was like looking into a mirror that reflected only what had been lost. "Come back..." Lucas whispered. "Please come back." Behind him, Brandon deflected another strike, barely staying on his feet. He turned and shouted, "Lucas!" Lucas looked up just in time to see two more children rushing in. Ethan met them first, slamming into them with his full weight, taking the hit meant for Lucas. They all went down in a heap. "Ethan!" Lucas cried. "Im fine!" Ethan shouted, coughing. "Focus!" Freeman stood above it all, hands folded behind his back, smiling. "You see now?" he called. "This is progress. This is evolution. You cant stop whats already begun." Lucass fists trembled as he pushed himself to his feet. He looked at the children, at Freeman, at Ethan barely holding on, and at his friends bleeding for something they didnt even fully understand. "No," he said quietly. Then louder, stronger: "No. You think this is basketball? You think this is what its supposed to become?" He took a step forward. Then another. "Basketball is choice. Its passion. Its falling in love with the game, not being turned into it. These kids arent players. Theyre prisoners. And were gonna free them." The children hesitated. Something about his voice made them stop. Not fully, not for long. But something in Lucass conviction shook the algorithm. Broke the rhythm. Then a sudden, sharp snap echoed through the lab as one of the childrena boy no older than tenlaunched forward. His movement was clean, unnaturally fluid, like a piston being fired from a machine. His feet barely touched the ground before he was upon Lucas. But Lucas was now ready. He pivoted, ducked low, and drove his shoulder into the boys torso, throwing him sideways. The kid hit the wall and bounced back up without a sound, face still blank, like pain meant nothing. "Lucas! Louie! Evan!" Brandon shouted, not taking his eyes off the child. "Stay sharptheyre fast!" A second child movedthis one a girl, long black hair falling over her face. She went for Louie, limbs slicing through the air like blades. Louie barely managed to block, stumbling backward as her fists hammered against his arms. Evan caught another before the boy could reach Brandon. With a shout, he swept the kids legs from under him and shoved him back with both palms. "Come back!! What are these things... Brandon" "Theyre not things!" Brandon yelled from where hed slumped against the wall, his voice rough with fury. "Theyre kids! Thats what makes it worse!" Freeman watched with eerie calm, hands folded behind his back, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Do you see now? Look at what they can do. Thats not training. Thats pure instinct, wired into them at the core." "SHUT UP!" Lucas roared, launching forward again, this time not at a childbut at Freeman. But a wall of limbs met him. Two more children intercepted, moving in terrifying sync. One swept his leg in a low arc, aiming to take Lucass feet from under him, while the other struck for his temple with the precision of a boxer. Lucas dodged the first, blocked the second, and retaliated with a palm strike to the taller boys jaw. It connectedbut the boy didnt even flinch. Lucas staggered back, shaking out his hand. "They cant feel pain... not like us," he muttered, sweat beading his brow. "Theyre programmed," Ethan growled, pushing himself upright. "Conditioned to suppress pain. Theyre not even conscious of it. Just... acting." Louie ducked under a wild swing from the girl with black hair. His lip was split, and his breath came fast, but he stood tall. "How do we stop them without hurting them?!" "Thats the point," Freeman said from behind the chaos. "You cant." Evan gritted his teeth and surged forward. He tackled one of the smaller boys to the ground, pinning his arms. "I dont want to hurt you," he said to the boy, whose blank eyes flicked up at him with no emotion. "Snap out of it, man! Youre not a machine!" The boy snarledactually snarledand headbutted Evan so hard the older boy was knocked backward, dazed. Freeman stepped toward Ethan, who now stood leaning against a control panel. "And you... you couldve joined them, you know," Freeman said, voice almost sad. "You had the potential. You still do. I saw it in your performance. The anger. The fire." "Im not yours to control," Ethan spat, lifting his head. "Ill never be one of your freaks." Freeman sighed. "A shame. You wouldve been perfect." Thensomething shifted. Ethan pushed off the console with a grunt, standing taller despite the pain. His legs trembled, but his voice didnt. "Lucas," he called, loud enough for the room to hear. "Go for the control node. Upper right panelits marked in red. I think thats whats syncing them. This bastard thought anyone wont notice it." Lucas spun toward the corner of the lab. A glowing red panel pulsed faintly in the shadows. It was built into the containment console. As if responding to the attention, one of the children broke formation and charged to intercept. "I got it!" Lucas shouted, breaking into a sprint. Freemans smile faltered. "Stop him," he said. Three children moved at once. Brandon threw himself in their path. "NO!" The collision was brutal. Brandon slammed into one of them mid-stride, grabbing the child in a bear hug and taking the hit. The momentum carried them both into the wall. "GO!" Brandon screamed through gritted teeth as the other two children advanced. Lucas didnt stop. His shoes screeched against the blood-slicked tile as he lunged for the panel. A sharp cry behind him told him Evan had jumped into the fray, grappling with one of the two remaining blockers. That left one more. Lucas gritted his teeth and jumped, rolling across the console top as the last child reached for his throat. His hand slammed into the red panel and a pulse of light rippled through the room. The children froze. One by one, their heads tiltedjerky, confused. Their glowing eyes flickered. Then dimmed. They swayed in place like puppets with their strings cut. Silence fell. Freemans calm expression shattered into something twisted and raw. "No... no. You dont get to stop progress! Youre children! You dont know what this means!" Lucas stood tall, chest heaving, his voice ice-cold. "I know exactly what it means." Freeman snarled and lunged at him. But this time, it wasnt a child who intercepted himit was Ethan. He slammed his shoulder into Freeman, sending the man sprawling to the ground. Ethan loomed above him, battered but unbroken. "Youre done," he said. Freeman shocked then just laughed and said, "Oh, am I?" Suddenly, the lights in the lab flickered. The ground trembled under heavy footsteps. From the shattered entry corridor, a dozen armed mercenaries stormed in, heads reflecting the overhead lights, assault rifles raised and aimed squarely at Ethan and the others. Their leader, a massive man with a scar down his cheek, stepped forward. "Orders were clear. Secure Freeman. Eliminate any interference." "Great," Louie muttered, wiping blood from his brow as he stumbled to Lucass side. "Because robot kids werent enough." Lucas glanced at Ethan. "Were too beat up for this." Freeman rose to his feet, blood running from the corner of his mouth, eyes alight with triumph. "You think youve won something? That stopping the children was the end? Your fucking wrong!!" To be continue Chapter 102 - 89: Syndicate Arc (12) Chapter 102: Chapter 89: Syndicate Arc (12) Freeman rose slowly, blood still dripping from his lips. But his eyes gleamed with savage triumph. "You fools really thought youd won something?" he said, voice cracking with rage. "You think stopping the children was the end? Youre fucking wrong!!" The rifles clicked into place. Red dots danced across the torsos of Ethan, Lucas, and the others. And then Pop! Pop! Pop! A cluster of small canisters burst through the vents above, hitting the floor with a dull clang. A thick white smoke erupted from them, flooding the lab in seconds. "Smoke bombs!?" Evan yelled, coughing as the fog swallowed the room. His voice was barely audible over the chaos. "What the hell is going on!?" Freeman barked, coughing violently. "Scar! Where are you!?" "ARGH!" "GET BACK!" "I CANT SEE!" Panicked shouts erupted from the mercenaries as the smoke swirled like a living thing, curling around their legs and into their lungs. Scar, the commander, took a step forward and squinted through the haze, gun raised. "Stay sharp! This is a setup!" His words were cut off by a sudden scream. Then another. One by one, the red targeting dots vanished. Within seconds, the screams stopped. The fog began to settle. Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Tch... I cant see anything." "I dont like this," Louie muttered, reaching blindly for Lucas. "Ethan? Where are you?" "Im here," Ethan replied through clenched teeth, voice steady despite the confusion. Then Brandon pointed. "Look!" All eyes followed his outstretched hand. As the smoke thinned, a single silhouette emerged from its heart. At first, he seemed unremarkable, a tall man in plain clothes, his hands by his sides, head slightly bowed. But as the smoke cleared completely, it was clear this man was far from ordinary. He was built like a fortress. Muscles rippled beneath his simple clothes like steel cables. His calm expression didnt match the chaos around him, and the way he stood grounded, balanced, unflinching, gave the impression that he belonged in the middle of a battlefield. Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Who... are you?" The man didnt answer at first. Instead, he turned toward Lucas, studying him for a long, silent moment. Then he nodded, his voice deep and steady. "Apologies, young master Lucas. Im late." Lucas blinked. "Do I know you?" The man looked faintly amused. "Did your mother ever mention me?" Lucas shook his head. "No... she didnt." The man sighed inwardly. (So... the director hid the truth from him. That someone was watching over him, every day, every hour.) He straightened. "Pardon me, young master. I am Norris. Your bodyguard. Assigned by the Director...your motherto watch over you ever since that day" Lucass eyes widened. "My mom? She sent you?" Norris nodded respectfully. "Yes, sir. Ive always been nearby. But I wasnt to interfere unless the threat exceeded your ability to survive." Freemans voice rose again, furious and shaken. "Who the hell are you!? Who told you you could interfere in my operation!?" Norris didnt even glance at him. Scar stood now, surveying the room with horror. Around him, his mentough, trained mercenarieslay sprawled across the lab floor, groaning or unconscious. Some didnt move at all. "You..." he growled. "You killed my men!" Norris finally looked at him. "They raised guns at children," he said flatly. "I removed the threat." Freeman was livid now, face twisted with rage. "You son of a bitch! Do you know what youve ruined!? This was supposed to be the beginning! I was building perfection!" "Perfection built on torture and stolen lives?" Norris interrupted, calm but firm. "You mistake madness for vision." Freeman lunged toward himonly to be met with a single step from Norris, who delivered a brutal palm strike to Freemans chest. The impact sent the man hurtling backward into a table, which cracked in half beneath him. The room went still again. Norris stepped forward, kneeling beside Ethan. He pulled a compact first-aid device from his belt and placed it against Ethans bleeding side. "You fought well," Norris said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Rest now. Reinforcements are already en route." Ethan winced, his breath ragged. "You couldve... shown up sooner." Norris didnt miss a beat. "My apologies," he said in a deadpan tone. "Traffic." Louie, leaning against a busted console, couldnt help but snort. "Okay, I like this guy." Across the room, Freeman struggled to sit upright, coughing violently. Blood spattered from his mouth onto the floor as his trembling hand pushed him up against the mangled lab table. "You... idiots..." he rasped, fury still clinging to every word. "You have no idea what youve done!" Then, eyes wild, he screamed, "Scar! Kill him!" Scar stood tall in the settling smoke, the last man left standing from Freemans squad. His scarred face twitched once, then curled into something halfway between a grin and a sneer. "I suppose my fee just doubled," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. Freeman nodded frantically, pointing a shaking hand at Norris. "I dont care what it costsjust kill that bastard!" Norris turned to face the towering mercenary. His posture was relaxed, but there was a tension in his frame nowa coiled readiness like a panther before the pounce. His gaze flicked across Scar, analyzing everything in seconds. The mans stance, the subtle weight distribution in his boots, the callouses on his hands. Norriss instincts whispered: Hes not average. This ones killed beforeand enjoyed it. "Youre strong," Norris admitted. "Not like the others." Scar smirked, stepping forward with slow, deliberate strides. "Used to be a soldier. Now I get paid a hell of a lot more for pulling the same trigger." He flexed his fingers. "Nothing personal. Just business." "I see." Norris reached behind him and drew a combat knifenot military issue, but one modified, personal. Its edges were worn, lovingly maintained. It wasnt just a weapon. It was an extension of himself. He dropped into a low, compact stance. Feet solid, blade angled downward. Krav Maga. The most brutal, efficient form of close-quarters combat in the world. Scar grinned. "Youre gonna fight me with that little thing?" "I only need one." Scar drew a serrated machete from a holster on his thigh and cracked his neck. "Then lets make this worth the money." Without warning, Scar surged forward like a charging bull. Norris sidestepped, razor-sharp, like water slipping past a rock. His blade slashednot wide, not wastefulbut surgically across Scars forearm. Blood spattered the floor, but Scar didnt even flinch. "Fast." Scar muttered, swinging his machete in a brutal arc meant to tear flesh from bone. Norris ducked under the swing, twisted inward, and slammed his elbow into Scars ribcage. A sickening crunch echoed through the labtwo ribs cracked. Scar grunted, backpedaled, and lashed out with a knee. Norris absorbed it on his hip, spun, and went for a sweepScar jumped, but the knife caught his thigh. Blood again. "Not bad," Scar admitted. "Havent bled like this in years." "Im not here to entertain you." Norris replied coldly. Scars eyes narrowed. "No. Youre here to die." This time, Scar attacked with precisionhe wasnt just a brute. Hed trained. The way he flowed from strike to strike, backing Norris toward the wall, showed the discipline of a battlefield survivor. But Norris was trained for something more than war. He was trained to protect. He was trained to end threats. A feint with the knife, a pivot, and Norris closed the distance between them. He struck with the butt of his blade into Scars jaw, then a lightning-fast jab to his throat. Scar choked, stumbled. Norris locked his arm, twisted, and drove his shoulder into Scars chest. They crashed into a metal table. Sparks flew. Scar roared, trying to bring the machete down, but Norris slammed his palm into Scars wrist, dislocating it with a brutal twist. The machete clattered to the floor. Then, with a step forward and a shift in balance, Norris flipped Scar over his shoulder Slamming him hard into the floor. The ground shook with the impact. Scar groaned, reaching for his sidearmbut Norris was already there, foot pinning the weapon down. "No more," Norris said. Scars breath was ragged now. His hand bleeding. His nose broken. "Youre strong..." Scar wheezed. "Stronger than I thought." Norris stared down at him, emotionless. "You chose the wrong job." And with one precise strike of the hilt, Scar went unconscious. Silence fell over the room once more. Freeman stared in disbelief, mouth open, unable to comprehend what hed just witnessed. Norris didnt even glance at him as he turned back toward the group. Ethan was still leaning against the wall, breathing slower now. Lucas was helping Evan sit up, while Brandon and Louie watched with wide eyes. "You good?" Norris asked Lucas, walking past Scars limp body. "We live," Lucas muttered. "That... was cool." Louie was grinning despite himself. "Where the hell did you learn to move like that? You took out Rambo and the Terminator at the same time." Norris sheathed his knife. "Ive had practice," he said. The words had barely left his mouth when a guttural scream tore from Freemans throat. He slammed his fist against the fractured control table, sparks flickering from damaged circuits. "You bastards! You ruined everything! Do you think this ends with me!?" Freeman howled, eyes wild with hate. "Do you know who funded this?! What we were creating?!" Ethan didnt flinch. His voice, low and urgent, cut through the air like a knife. "Tell me where the key to Site EEast Wingis." Freemans eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure. "Hahahahahah... You need the key to save Carters son, huh?!" he shouted, the madness in his voice growing louder with each word. "HAHAHAHAHA! That poor kids already doomed!" Brandons fists clenched at his sides. "You bastard! What are you laughing at?!" Freeman spat blood, lips twitching with twisted amusement. "Too late!" he cried. "The East Wing is on a timer! The chamber will be flooded with poisonfive minutes from now!" Lucass face drained of color. "You!!!" Norris, silent through the exchange, narrowed his eyes. Site E... Carters son... poison gas... and These Children lying around here...The pieces were falling together fast, but not fast enough. Evan stepped forward, his voice trembling. "Principal Freeman... They said you were a great man. That you loved basketball. That you cared about basketball... Why?" His voice cracked. "Why do this?" Freeman turned to him slowly, eyes bloodshot, teeth bared. "Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!!" he roared. "You dont know what its like! This cursed worldthis goddamned gameonly wants talent! They never looked at effort! I gave my all, and the world still said I wasnt enough!" He began to laugh again, deranged. "So I made my own way. I created talent! I built the future! You think youre saving someone?! Youre trying to undo perfection!" "Give me the damn key!!" Ethan shouted, stepping forward with fury in his eyes. "I told you..." Freeman rasped. "Its too late, you bastard. Hahahaha" Suddenly "Whats too late?" The voice rang clear and deep through the chamber. Everyone froze. Brandons eyes widened instantly. "That voice..." From the far corridor, the shadows shiftedrevealing a tall man in a long black coat, striding in with quiet power. Behind him, flanked by two agents in tactical gear, was a small boy with tousled brown hair and wide, confused eyes. Gerald Young. Brandons father. Brandon took a step forward, voice barely above a whisper. "Father..." Geralds expression was unreadablestone-faced, yet behind his eyes, something twisted and torn. He looked at his son, the blood on his cheeks, the bruise on his temple. A storm brewed behind his gaze. Then he turned toward Freeman. "Gerald, you traitor!!" Freeman shrieked, pointing with a shaking, bloodied finger. "You betrayed us! You bastard!" Gerald didnt respond to the insult. Instead, he calmly walked past Brandon and stood between Freeman and the group, placing a firm hand on the shoulder of the boy behind himCaleb Carter, just eleven years old, clearly frightened. The boy looked around the room, eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. "W-Whats going on...? Who are all these people...?" Ethans breath caught. "(Its him... Caleb Carter,)" Ethan thought, staring at the small, confused boy. Freeman, kneeling amidst the wreckage, his body bruised and bleeding, his mind fraying at the edges, still found the strength to scream. "You were one of us, Gerald! You think your family will be safe after this?!" Gerald stood tall, eyes unwavering. "Ill protect them," he said, voice steady, "even if I die." Then he looked at Brandon again. "For my son," Gerald said quietly, almost a whisper. "I failed you once. I wont do it again." Brandon, blood smeared across his cheek, looked at his father through a storm of emotionconfusion, anger, love. "Dad..." he murmured, voice trembling, unsure whether to step forward or retreat. Ethan caught the look and exhaled quietly. He understood that pain. He turned his gaze to Lucas, who nodded grimly. Together, they walked forward toward Freeman. Lucas supported Ethan, slipping under his shoulder, both limping and bloodied. Ethan spoke, his voice worn but resolute. "Freeman... its over this time." Freemans lips trembled. "No... no, no, no, no..." His eyes were distant, flicking between the past and present, as if trying to escape the moment. As if refusing to believe that the end had truly come. "Eddie" Caleb, standing near Gerald, tilted his head, confused. He heard his fathers name. Eddie Carter? He stared at Freeman with innocent curiosity, unaware of the chaos that had nearly consumed his life. Then Freemans hand slid into his coat. Lucass eyes widened. "A GUN!!" Time slowed. Freemans shaking fingers pulled a small black pistol from his pocket, steel catching the faint light. He stood with a stumble, the gun trembling in his grip, pointed directly at Ethan and Lucas. "Dont move!" he screamed. Norris froze instantly, hand hovering just inches from his own weapon. His stance tightened. One wrong move, and the shot would fire. The air was razor-thin. Freemans voice cracked as he spoke again, this time quieterbroken. "I didnt... want this. I just wanted to win... against Eddie Carter... to be seen as his equal." The gun shifted, now pointed not at Ethan or Lucas, but at Freemans own head. "I just wanted to be called a prodigy too... To be worthy of the name rival." His hand trembled violently. "This is not over." "NO!!!" Ethan shouted. "STOP!" Lucas cried, surging forward. Brandon, Evan, and Louie all moved at once. "FREEMAN!!" But it was too late. Bang. To be continue Chapter 103 - 90: Syndicate Arc (13) Chapter 103: Chapter 90: Syndicate Arc (13) South Side Chicago, where basketball hoops were nailed to streetlight poles and boys grew up dribbling through cracked pavement, Charles Freeman was a name that echoed in gymnasiums and alley courts alike. Tall, quick, and impossibly sharp, Charles wasnt just good, he was gifted. He had the kind of fluid grace coaches called "natural," but his success wasnt just talent. It was obsession. He ran wind sprints at dawn, shot free throws until his fingers bled, studied tape like a scientist decoding nature. From the moment he could hold a basketball, Charles Freeman dreamed of going pro. But even back then, there was one shadow always cast across his light: Eddie Carter. If Charles was the blade, honed and sharp, Eddie was the flamebrilliant, unpredictable, unstoppable. They were born only weeks apart, lived three blocks from each other, and played on opposite courts until they were old enough to wear the same jersey. In high school, they became teammates and rivals. Together, they led Dunbar High to the state championships. Charles was the disciplined strategist, the floor general. Eddie was the showman, the ace who made the crowd roar. They pushed each other, lifted each other, and slowly, their rivalry became a brotherhood. Off the court, they were inseparable. On the court, they were iron sharpening iron. But deep down, Charles hated that no matter how hard he worked, Eddie always seemed one step ahead. In their senior year, it all came to a head. Scouts were in the crowd. Offers from colleges hung in the air like promises. And in the final moments of the state finals, with the game tied and ten seconds left, Charles called the play. He passed the ball to Eddie wide open at the arc. Eddie shot. He made it. The crowd erupted. The buzzer screamed. Dunbar won the title. Everyone praised Eddie Carter. Charles had run the offense, broken the press, played lockdown defense but no one remembered that. They remembered the final shot. The highlight. The star. It stung. Bad. But Charles swallowed it down. They both earned scholarships, Eddie went to Kentucky, Charles to Michigan State. The rivalry continued in college. Again and again, Charles fell short. Every matchup, every tournament, Eddie was just better more athletic, more explosive, more loved. Then came the pros. Charles was drafted late, bounced between benches. Eddie? Top 5 pick. Rookie of the Year. MVP candidate by year three. By age 27, Charles was out of the league. A torn meniscus, limited minutes, and a reputation as "the guy who couldnt get it done" followed him. Eddie, meanwhile, had his jersey retired before turning 35. That was the day Charles stopped chasing dreams. He went back home, to Chicago, and started coaching. If he couldnt be the best, maybe he could make the best. His teams were disciplined. Strong fundamentals. No flair, no ego. He built programs from scratchwinning districts, then regionals. He was offered assistant coaching roles at colleges, but turned them down. He wanted control. He wanted to shape young men in a system where hard work and intelligence, not flash and stardom won games. Eventually, Charles became Principal Freeman at Crescent Ridge, a magnet school known for turning at-risk kids into college-bound stars. Eddies teams were known for creativity, swagger, and grit, traits he encouraged. Charles hated it. Hated how Eddie made the game feel easy. Hated that his way kept working. And then came Jalen Carter. Eddies son. In the rust-colored heart of South Side Chicago, where basketball hoops were nailed to streetlight poles and boys grew up dribbling through cracked pavement, Charles Freeman was a name that echoed in gymnasiums and alley courts alike. Tall, quick, and impossibly sharp, Charles wasnt just good, he was gifted. He had the kind of fluid grace coaches called "natural," but his success wasnt just talent. It was obsession. He ran wind sprints at dawn, shot free throws until his fingers bled, studied tape like a scientist decoding nature. From the moment he could hold a basketball, Charles Freeman dreamed of going pro. But even back then, there was one shadow always cast across his light: Eddie Carter. If Charles was the blade, honed and sharp, Eddie was the flame brilliant, unpredictable, unstoppable. They were born only weeks apart, lived three blocks from each other, and played on opposite courts until they were old enough to wear the same jersey. In high school, they became teammates and rivals. Together, they led Dunbar High to the state championships. Charles was the disciplined strategist, the floor general. Eddie was the showman, the ace who made the crowd roar. They pushed each other, lifted each other, and slowly, their rivalry became a brotherhood. Off the court, they were inseparable. On the court, they were iron sharpening iron. But deep down, Charles hated that no matter how hard he worked, Eddie always seemed one step ahead. In their senior year, it all came to a head. Scouts were in the crowd. Offers from colleges hung in the air like promises. And in the final moments of the state finals, with the game tied and ten seconds left, Charles called the play. He passed the ball to Eddiewide open at the arc. Eddie shot. He made it. The crowd erupted. The buzzer screamed. Dunbar won the title. Everyone praised Eddie Carter. Charles had run the offense, broken the press, played lockdown defensebut no one remembered that. They remembered the final shot. The highlight. The star. It stung. Bad. But Charles swallowed it down. They both earned scholarshipsEddie went to Kentucky, Charles to Michigan State. The rivalry continued in college. Again and again, Charles fell short. Every matchup, every tournament, Eddie was just bettermore athletic, more explosive, more loved. Then came the pros. Charles was drafted late, bounced between benches. Eddie? Top 5 pick. Rookie of the Year. MVP candidate by year three. By age 27, Charles was out of the league. A torn meniscus, limited minutes, and a reputation as "the guy who couldnt get it done" followed him. Eddie, meanwhile, had his jersey retired before turning 35. That was the day Charles stopped chasing dreams. He went back home, to Chicago, and started coaching. If he couldnt be the best, maybe he could make the best. His teams were disciplined. Strong fundamentals. No flair, no ego. He built programs from scratchwinning districts, then regionals. He was offered assistant coaching roles at colleges, but turned them down. He wanted control. He wanted to shape young men in a system where hard work and intelligencenot flash and stardomwon games. Eventually, Charles became Principal Freeman at Crescent Ridge, a magnet school known for turning at-risk kids into college-bound stars. Eddies teams were known for creativity, swagger, and grittraits he encouraged. Charles hated it. Hated how Eddie made the game feel easy. Hated that his way kept working. And then came Jalen Carter. Eddies son. An echo of Eddies talentonly sharper, stronger, faster. Watching Jalen dominate middle school leagues, Charles saw history repeating itself. It wasnt just Eddie anymore. Now the Carter name was a legacy. And it was crushing him. He wasnt just good. He was otherworldly. A prodigy with his fathers fire and a swagger that felt like an echo of old ghosts. Freeman watched Jalen torch his teams three years in a row in the regional tournaments. Every time they matched up, it was a repeat of the old script. The son of Eddie Carter crushing Freemans carefully built squads like he was born to do it. And Jalen always smiled. Just like his father. The last time they played, San Diego Troops had their best season ever. Undefeated. Freeman believedfinally, this was the year. His boys were ready. He had trained them to perfection. But Jalen Carter dropped 43 points, including a step-back three over Freemans best defender at the buzzer. The media didnt care about Freemans coaching. All they remembered was the highlight. History repeated. Freeman didnt shake Eddies hand after the game. He just walked into the locker room and told his team they werent hungry enough. That was the year something inside him broke. He stopped believing in the purity of the game. Stopped trusting the system. He began reading into biomechanics, neural feedback, enhanced training regimens. He saw how private schools gave unfair advantages. How talent was born, not earned. Hard work didnt win championships. Talent did. Eddie did. Then Two years ago, everything changed. It was after another crushing playoff loss. Charles sat alone in the gym office, lights off, film still running on the projector. His team had done everything right. Rotations. Defense. Execution. Still, they lost. Still, Jalen Carter danced on the court like the game had been scripted for him. Thats when the old man walked in. Pressed black suit. Bald head. Calm eyes like steel. He moved like a man who never rushed the kind of man who only appeared when something important was about to change. Charles didnt look up. "Youve done everything right," the man said, stepping into the flickering light. "And still, you lose." Charless jaw clenched. "If youre a reporter, you can get the hell out." "Im not here to gloat." The mans voice was smooth, steady. "Im here because I understand. You work harder than everyone else. You build something solid. And still, the system favors the flashy ones. The showmen. The ones like Eddie." Charless eyes flicked up. "You know Eddie?" "I know his type. And I know your kind, too. Builders. Thinkers. The ones who believe discipline wins games." Charles didnt answer. But the old man smiled. "You ever wonder why it always goes the same way? Why no matter how much you teach, how much you prepare... they always win?" Charles stood, arms crossed. "What are you selling?" The man reached into his coat. Pulled out a black card matte, with a silver symbol: a circle cut by jagged lines, like lightning over a sun. "Im offering you truth," the man said. "Basketball stopped being fair a long time ago. Talent? Random. Glory? Bought. The real game isnt played on the courtits played in boardrooms. Behind closed doors. In scouting committees and shoe deals. And were tired of it." Charles narrowed his eyes. "We?" "There are others like you. Coaches. Analysts. People who believe in control. In building something real. Not this circus. Were building a new system. One where the outcome can be shaped. Where our players win. Where people like Eddie stop walking away with everything." Charless voice dropped. "So you want to rig the game?" The man didnt flinch. "We want to reclaim it." Silence. Then the old man leaned closer. "Youve spent your whole life chasing ghosts. Let me show you how to become one." He placed the card on the desk. "When youre ready, call the number on the back". And just like that, he walked out. No pitch. No pressure. Just a crack in Charless world, wide enough to let something dark slip through. That night, Charles stared at the card for hours. The next day, he made the call. .... Three years later. Greg was dead. The enhancement pillthe one that made Greg players unstoppable, that helped turn a normal person talent into something terrifyingwas now Charless responsibility. The program couldnt end. Not when there was so much left to control. And so Site E was born. Buried beneath an abandoned military facility, off the record, off the grid. The room reeked of antiseptic and rusted blood. Along the far wall, five glass containment tubes stood upright, faintly glowing green. Inside each... Children. Hunched. Shackled. Their small bodies were chained at the ankles and wrists, curled unnaturally as if molded into submission. Each had a thick metallic brace fused into the upper spine, extending wires up into their necks and skulls. IV tubes pierced their arms. A slow drip of an unknown fluid leaked into themCompound X-17, a refined version of the drug Greg once gave Eddie. Their eyesif openwere dull, empty. Some were unconscious. Others twitched, muscles spasming against restraints as if their bodies were rejecting something no one asked for. Above each chamber, a digital monitor displayed biometric readings: heart rate, brainwave activity, neural spike responses. Line graphs moved erratically. Occasionally one would flatline for a momentonly to violently jump again as the child convulsed and was stabilized. Charles watched from behind a reinforced glass wall, clipboard in hand. He looked older now. Gaunter. Sleep-deprived. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, arms covered in faded injection scarsremnants of earlier failures, tests he had run on himself. He pressed the intercom button. "Subject 04 is still rejecting the strain. Increase neural dampeners by twenty percent. And give him another dose. No more interruptions." A scientist nearby hesitated. "Sir, hes twelve. His nervous system cant take much more." Charles didnt blink. "Then hes not meant to be part of the program." There was a silence. Then the order was obeyed. From the far corner, a boys scream echoed, muffled by glass. Then it went quiet again. Charles turned and stared at a single photo taped to the wall. A black-and-white image of Eddie Carter holding the championship trophy, grinning. Charles muttered under his breath. "Lets see you laugh when we breed a player who can end your legacy." He walked out of the room, the echo of his steps swallowed by steel and silence. Behind him, the children remained. Half alive. Half weapon. To be continue Chapter 104 - 91: Syndicate Arc (14) Chapter 104: Chapter 91: Syndicate Arc (14) After That Day at Site E... The stench still clung to him. No matter how many showers he took, how many layers he woreCharles couldnt wash away the sterile cold of Site E. The quiet hum of the IV drips. The soft, muffled sobs of shackled children. The machine-like blinking of dull, empty eyes. It echoed in his skull. He needed clarity. Or maybe absolution. So he went to the only person he still called a friend. Eddie Carters Home 4:12 PM The late afternoon sun poured golden warmth into Eddies home. Hardwood floors gleamed. Trophy cases lined the hallway decades of glory preserved behind glass. Photographs of championships, framed jerseys, smiling kids. There was a rhythm here. A peace. The afternoon sun filtered gently through the windows of Eddie Carters house, casting long golden rays across polished hardwood floors and framed photos of championships and smiling sons. The air smelled faintly of pinewood and cologne, a warm, clean scent that contrasted deeply with the cold, chemical stench of Site E, still clinging to Charless coat. Eddie poured two glasses of bourbon and handed one to his old friend. "Still got a taste for this stuff, Charlie?" he said with that same lazy grin he used to flash on the court after draining a step-back three. Charles chuckled softly and accepted the glass, careful not to let his fingers tremble. "Some things never change." They sat on the patio, watching the yard where two boys dribbled and shot at a hoop nailed above the garage. One was lean and sharp-featured, with movements that mirrored Eddies old form so precisely it was eerie. "That ones Jalen," Eddie said proudly. "Youve seen him. Kids a damn highlight reel." Charles nodded. "Yeah, hes got your fire." Then the younger boy came jogging overtaller for his age, smoother somehow. His eyes were sharp, curious. Not as flashy as Jalen, but something about his presence made Charles sit up a bit straighter. Eddie gestured with his glass. "Oh, Charles... looks like you havent met my younger son, Caleb." Charles raised an eyebrow, surprised. "You have another son?" Eddie laughed heartily. "Hah! See? Youve been so caught up in your principal duties, you forgot Ive got more than one kid! Yeah, this is Caleb. Quiet killer, this one. Not as flashy as Jalenbut just as dangerous like his brother" Charles leaned forward, offering his hand. Caleb shook it firmly, politely, but his eyes stayed locked on Charlessanalyzing, reading. "I see..." Charles said, smiling faintly. "Another prodigy, huh?" Eddie beamed. "They inherited everything, man. My speed. My shot. My court vision. Watching them play... its like looking in a mirror." He laughed again, a deep, genuine sound. "These kids are gonna dominate. Just like we used to." Charles stared out at the two boys now, dribbling and taking turns pulling up for threes. "Just like us back then," he said quietly, sipping the bourbon. His lips curled into a smile, but it didnt reach his eyes. "Yeah..." he said again, almost to himself. "Just like us back then." But in his mind, the thought twisted: Another monster is born, huh? They sat in silence for a few moments longer, until Jalen yelled, "Hey Dad, watch this!" and launched a deep three. It hit the backboard and dropped through clean. Eddie whooped, standing up and clapping. "Thats what Im talking about!" Charles remained seated, his eyes narrowing slightly. He then stood quietly and brushed off his coat. "I should get going. Still have some notes to write up." Eddie grinned and clapped him on the back. "Always working. But heycome by more often. These boys could use more old-school wisdom. And maybe you could use a little sunlight, huh?" Charles smiled weakly. "Yeah. Maybe." ... After that day The sterile air of Site E was always suffocating, a constant reminder of the cold, mechanical world Charles had willingly chosen to immerse himself in. The airlock hissed as he stepped inside, the sound of metal sliding against metal signaling his return to the heart of the project. The flickering fluorescent lights above bathed the hallways in an almost eerie glow, casting long shadows on the polished, antiseptic floors. The scent of chemicals, disinfectants, and bloodever-presentlingered in the air. Charles walked with purposeful steps, his ID clipped to his coat, the small beep of the security scanner almost routine now. He moved past the observation windows, where scientists hunched over their keyboards, typing away, their focus unbroken by his presence. The walls seemed to close in on him, as though the very lab itself resented the human elementthe lives that had been shattered in the pursuit of perfection. Empty IV bags hung from hooks, their once-life-giving contents long drained. Charts covered in red ink, stamped with "FAILURE" and "RETEST," lined the wallsconstant reminders of the many attempts that had come before. The failure rate was higher than Charles had hoped. But he was used to it. The price of genius was blood. And he had more than enough blood to spare. He finally reached the Containment Room. The heavy door slid open with a soft, metallic groan, and Charles entered. Inside, the five glass tubes stood like grim sentinels, filled with a sickly green liquid that bubbled faintly around the twisted, contorted forms of the children. Their bodies were brokensmall, shackled, and chained. Their spines were fused with metal, the wires of their neural interfaces snaking up into their skulls. Some twitched erratically, others lay still, their eyes empty and unblinking. The smell of antiseptic and the faint scent of decaying flesh mixed in the air, a visceral reminder of the cost of progress. Charles stood before Subject 03, his supposed "breakthrough." The childs body was curled unnaturally, as though the muscles had been stretched and bent into painful positions. A soft murmur escaped the childs lipsfragments of play calls, broken and disconnected, barely coherent. "Left screen... pop out... baseline cut..." Charles clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging into the fabric of his gloves. He stared at the twitching child, frustration gnawing at him. The experiments had never been what he had hoped for. The children werent more than toolsempty vessels that could mimic the movements he had programmed, but lacked the natural rhythm, the soul, that made a true player. The deep, innate understanding of the game that made someone like Jalen Carter a prodigy. "Still not enough," Charles muttered to himself, turning his attention to the screen. The data blinked in front of him, mocking him with its mediocrity. Neural response: 48%. Physical agility: 72%. Basketball IQ: 32%. "Goddamn it!" Charles shouted, his fist slamming into the console. The screen buzzed, flickering, distorting momentarily before snapping back to normal. He stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, trying to steady himself. But the words kept repeating in his mind: Jalen Carter would dismantle this one in a quarter. Hes too clean. Too instinctive. Theres nothing here that matches that boys natural rhythm. Charles moved to Subject 04 next. The childs vitals were slightly better, more promising in some aspects: better stamina, a faster reaction speed. But still, nothing close to the fluidity of a true athlete. Nothing that could compete with Jalen Carter, or the monstrous talent Eddie had passed down to his sons. Charles felt the gnawing emptiness in his chest. He had nothing that could match that raw talent. The pills from Greg Tarrow, the experimentsnone of it was enough. Not yet. The lights in the room flickered, dimming suddenly, casting the shadows of the containment tubes across the floor. Charles straightened, his instincts going on high alert. The soft hum of the door sliding open behind him reached his ears. He turned, his heart rate picking up as he saw the figure stepping into the room. Draped in a long black coat, the figures face was obscured by a white sheep mask, the hollow eyes of the mask staring at Charles with eerie detachment. The voice that emerged was metallic, cold. "The first prototype of your work..." The figures voice echoed in the sterile space. "Is it complete?" Charles froze. He hadnt heard that voice in over a year, and when he did, it was never a requestit was always a command, one that demanded results. He knew that voice too well. He straightened his coat, hiding the tremor in his hands. "No. Not yet. Its... progressing slower than expected." The sheep mask tilted slightly, as if studying him. "Then your progress is insufficient. The higher council is watching. Their patience is thin. We invested in your vision, Charles. We gave you the pills of Greg Tarrow and also the resources of Site E." Charless eyes narrowed. His jaw tightened. "I promised this will be a masterpiece. More than Greg. Itll be worth the wait. Im close." The sheep masks eyes seemed to narrow, though the mask remained unmoving. "You better be right, Charles," it said in a voice that held an edge of cold finality. "Because I dont want to see someone like Greg Tarrow die again." The words hit like a punch to the gut. Charles knew what the figure was implyingGreg had been a tool to them, a means to an end. His death, a result of his own experiments and failures, had been a bitter reminder of what happened when things went wrong . Charless fists clenched, and he tried to ignore the tightening in his chest. "I wont fail," he said, more to himself than to the figure in front of him. "This will be the last failure. I promise." The sheep mask nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and then turned on its heel, the sound of its footsteps echoing in the sterile corridor as it left the room. Charles remained standing there for a long moment, the weight of the words sinking in. The councils pressure. The death of Greg. The looming failure of the children in the containment tubes. And somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought of Jalen Carter of Caleb Carter lingered. A reminder of what he was up against. But there was no turning back now. He had to create the ultimate weapon. The prototype that would rival them all. He couldnt afford to fail again. Not when everything depended on it. ..... (Now, after days of being a madman trying to create the perfect evolution) The laboratory hummed with a mechanical, sterile precision, the lights overhead harsh and unforgiving. Charles stood at the observation window, watching the latest prototype through the reinforced glass. This one was different. The others had shown promise at first but ultimately succumbed to the unpredictable nature of human biology. Their instincts, their will, were too strong. Too... human. But this one this child was different. His eyes were blank, the whites glowing faintly under the dim lights. His pupils, gone. His mind, hollow. No thoughts. No emotions. Just obedience. Charles had finally cracked it. The formula for absolute control. Freemans work had taken them to the edge of humanity, erasing all the unnecessary complexities, the weaknesses. The mind was blank. The body was a vessel. Nothing left but raw, unyielding power that could be directed, redirected, honed into whatever Charles needed. A soldier. A weapon. "Subject 45," Charles muttered under his breath, looking at the childs slumped form. The child stood still, hands clasped together in front of him, a perfect, mechanical replica of what Charles had always envisioned: a being devoid of free will. A creation of pure efficiency. Nothing but a tool. "Ready for testing," Charles said aloud, his voice tinged with a cold satisfaction. He flipped a switch on his console, sending a current of electricity through the childs body. There was no reactionno gasp, no twitch, no resistance. The childs head jerked slightly at the surge, but the blank expression remained. No pain. No fear. Just nothing. Charless fingers hovered over the control panel. The child had been designed for more than just physical prowess. His speed, strength, agility all superior to any human hed encountered. But it was the mind the lack of a mind that made him so dangerous. The child was a blank slate, but it was Charles who held the pen. With a final deep breath, Charles spoke. "Execute Phase 1." Immediately, Subject 45 moved. His limbs twitched and jerked as his body followed the commands Charles had inserted into his neural system. The child sprinted across the room with quick speed, launching himself at a row of dummies set up for target practice. With each motion, Charles could feel his control, his dominance over the being. The childs movements were smooth, precise, without hesitation. There was no question. No deviation from the plan. The child tore through the dummies with mechanical efficiency, knocking them down one after the other. Charles watched, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. This was it. This was the culmination of years of research. The perfect weapon. A mindless, obedient soldier who would obey his every command. The problem of free will had been eliminated. Charless hand twitched with the thought of unleashing the child on the outside world. There were tests left to run, modifications to make. But the potential was limitless. No more failures. No more unpredictability. He could mold this one to be anything, anyone. But a whisper of doubt lingered. It wasnt about the child it was about him. He could control this creation, but hed never be able to control the consequences. "Phase 2," Charles murmured, staring at the blank face of the child. A rush of dark excitement surged through him. "Initiate." Without a moments hesitation, the child moved to the next task. It was time to test what Charles had hoped for all along: complete and utter dominance over the mind. If the child could survive this Charles would know that he was ready. A command flashed across the panel. "Target acquisition." The childs eyes glowed faintly, but no emotion, no human spark flickered within them. The child moved toward a target on the far end of the room, its movements almost too perfect to be real. And in that moment, as the child aimed and shot with deadly precision, Charles knew, he had done it. He had created the ultimate weapon. But deep down, a familiar unease gnawed at him. Could he keep this control forever? What would happen when the child began to grow? Could the same mindless obedience be maintained? The test was still far from over. And yet... it wasnt just the child that worried Charles. It was the very idea that in trying to perfect a weapon he might have created something far darker than he had ever intended. To be continue Chapter 105 - 92: Syndicate Arc (15) Chapter 105: Chapter 92: Syndicate Arc (15) Charles sat in the dimly lit lab, his eyes fixed on the child through the glass. The prototype. The perfect weapon. His creation, a mindless tool, doing exactly as programmed. Yet, the victory he had once craved felt hollow now. This wasnt the breakthrough he had imagined. This wasnt success. The child before him had no free will, no desires of its own, no hope, no dreams. It was a machine, nothing more. And yet, something gnawed at Charles as he watched it move, flawless and obedient. Was this truly what he had been working towards all these years? Was this the ultimate goal? To strip away everything that made someone human and turn them into a tool? Charles ran his hands over his face, feeling the weight of his choices pressing down on him. This wasnt the outcome he had hoped for. The child wasnt a victory, it was a reminder of how far hed fallen, how much hed sacrificed. But there was no turning back now. He had already crossed a line, and there was no going back. The door to the lab clicked shut behind him. ... Later, Charles found himself standing in front of Eddie Carters house. He wasnt sure what had brought him here, but something about the weight of his own failure made him seek out the only person who might understand. The last person who had been part of his past before all this madness began. As Charles stood there for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down on him as he stared at the door. He wasnt sure what had brought him here, what had made him seek Eddie out after all these years. But something about the emptiness inside him drove him to it. Maybe it was the failure in the lab, the emptiness he now felt when he looked at the child he had created, that cold reminder of what he had become. When the door opened, Eddies face lit up with surprise. "Charles, youre here? I was shocked when you called." he said, his voice warm, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. Charles forced a smile, though it felt strained. "Well, I just wanted to see an old friend. Can I?" His voice cracked slightly, betraying the sadness he couldnt quite hide. Eddie raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing the heaviness in Charless tone. But without hesitation, he stepped back and gestured for him to come inside. "Of course. Come on in." As Charles stepped inside, he was immediately struck by how normal everything seemed. The house was warm, filled with the sounds of life, laughter, footsteps, the hum of everyday life. It was a stark contrast to the sterile silence of his lab. A voice came from the hallway. "Father, who is that?" Charles turned to see Jalen Carter, standing at the top of the stairs. He was tall for his age, his frame already showing signs of the athlete he was becoming. His eyes, sharp and calculating, looked at Charles with curiosity. Charles smiled, trying to hide the unease he felt. "Its your Uncle Charles." he said, his voice softer than he intended. Jalen blinked, his expression shifting slightly as he took in the man before him. "Ah...." He gave a light laugh, clearly unsure of who Charles was, but the hint of a smile tugged at his lips, a glimpse of the boyish charm Eddie had passed down to him. Eddie smiled fondly at his son, then turned his gaze back to Charles. "Come in." he said again, stepping aside. Charles hesitated only for a second before stepping inside. The warmth of the home wrapped around hima quiet hum of life, soft lighting, the faint smell of dinner lingering in the air. It was a far cry from the cold, mechanical silence of the lab hed just come from. For a brief moment, the weight on his chest eased. Just a little. He looked around the cozy living room, filled with photos on the walls and shelves cluttered with little signs of a life well lived. He cleared his throat. "Wheres your wife and Caleb?" Eddie scratched the back of his neck. "Oh, right. Field trip. Calebs school had one this weekend. My wife volunteered to help out. So, its just me and Jalen for now." "Uh... okay," Charles murmured, awkwardly nodding. The silence that followed was thick. Jalen shuffled at the edge of the room, clearly picking up on the tension. "I, uh... Ill just go to my room." he said, already turning toward the hallway. "Alright, son." Eddie said gently, watching his son go. As Jalen disappeared around the corner, Charles found himself staring after him. Then, almost absentmindedly, he said, "Im happy for you, Eddie. Really. You deserve this." Eddies grin faded slightly. His eyes, clear, sharp, and familiar settled on Charles with quiet concern. "Charlie... whats eating you, man? Ive known you long enough to tell when somethings wrong." Charles looked away, his jaw tightening. "I guess you could say Ive been... busy. Too busy. But I never asked you, whats it really like? The life youve built for yourself?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the question. He leaned against the armrest of the couch, arms loosely crossed. "Whats it like?" he repeated, then smiled thoughtfully. "Its not flashy, if thats what youre thinking. Sure, theres still basketballcant get that out of my system. But its more than that now. Its the little things. Family dinners. Helping with homework. Seeing Jalen grow up. Its not the game that keeps me going anymore. Its them." Charles listened, saying nothing, but every word hit harder than the last. Eddie had what hed always wanted: a family, a home, peace. And he made it sound so... easy. Eddie added, "Im not chasing the spotlight anymore, Charlie. Ive got what matters. Ive got something real. Something worth living for." Charles looked down at his hands; hands that had built something monstrous. Something inhuman. He couldnt help but wonder when exactly hed veered so far off course. The bitterness crept in like a slow burn. Of course, Eddie had made it work. Of course everything had fallen perfectly into place for him. Hed always been the golden oneon the court, in life. And Charles? He had thrown everything away just to try and catch up. He had abandoned his wife. Neglected his son. All to feed his obsession with beating Eddie. Charles had buried himself in his work, convincing himself it was all for a greater purpose. But in truth, it was pride. Pride and envy. The need to prove he was better. That he wasnt second-best. And what did he have to show for it? A cold, sterile lab. A lifeless creation that mirrored none of the warmth he saw in Eddies home. And a guilt that gnawed at his insides like rust eating away at steel. His jaw tightened. The bitterness surged again not at Eddie, not really. Eddie had simply lived his life. But the injustice of it all, the contrast between what he had and what Charles had lost, was unbearable. Charles turned away, the weight in his chest threatening to crush him. There were no more words. Only regret. The kind that never leaves you. "I have to go," he said, voice low and hoarse. Eddie frowned. "Already? You just got here, man. We barely talked." "I just wanted to check on you," Charles muttered, forcing a faint smile that didnt quite reach his eyes. Eddie studied him for a moment. "Youre acting weird... Listen, whatever youre mixed up indont do anything stupid, alright?" Charles smiled again, but it was tired, hollow. "You dont have to worry about me." Eddie gave a small nod, though his eyes lingered with concern. "Alright... well, take care, Charlie." Charles nodded back. Then turned and walked out the door. As he stepped into the night, the cold air hit his face like a slap. The weight returned to his shoulders, heavier than ever. I gave up everything for you, Eddie... And you got to keep it all. The anger that had been simmering inside him finally began to boil. Every laugh he heard from inside that house echoed in his ears like mockery. Every framed photo on the wall, every sign of a life well-livedit all burned. He stopped walking. Stared ahead into the night. His breath came out in fogged puffs, steady but shaking with something deeper. And then the thought came, sharp, poisonous, and undeniable. "Ill take everything you have, Eddie," he whispered to the empty street, his voice trembling with fury. "I will." His eyes narrowed, not with rage alone, but with purpose. "I will." The night swallowed his words, but the promise had been made. And Charles never broke a promisenot anymore. ..... Back to the present "Eddie..." Charles Freeman thought, heart crumbling under the weight of it all, "why were you so special...?" His hand trembled around the cold metal of the pistol. The silence in the room was suffocating too thick. The children lay unconscious on the floor, their bodies limp and vulnerable. "NO!!!" Ethan shouted, his voice breaking through the thick silence like a desperate cry for help. "STOP!" Lucas cried, his face pale, eyes wide with panic, but Freeman was too far gone to hear reason. Brandon, Evan, and Louie moved all at once, their bodies surging toward him in a futile attempt to stop the inevitable. "FREEMAN!!" But Freeman gave them all a small, broken smile. A ghost of the man he used to be. His eyes locked on theirs, distant, haunted. And for a fleeting moment, his hardened heart cracked open. "Too late," he whispered, voice hoarse with regret, but his eyes gleamed with something elsesomething far darker. Bang! The gunshot split the air, a deafening sound that felt like it had come from another world. Freemans body jerked backward, then crumpled to the floor. The pistol slipped from his hand, skidding across the blood-streaked tiles. For a long moment, no one moved. The ringing in the ears of the survivors drowned out everything. There was nothing but the heavy, suffocating silence. And Before Charles Freeman died his mind flashed back. The memories of laughter and basketball jerseys. He and Eddie, kids again, laughing as they raced down the court. They were so young, so full of life. Maybe... maybe I just wanted someone to stop me before I went too far. As his final breath escaped him, Freemans eyes closed slowly. The cold, hard peace of it all settled over him. Someone Shouted "NO!" It was Ethan who screamed, rushing toward Freemans body, his hands trembling as he pressed them against the cold, lifeless head. It was too late. The blood spread quickly, staining the floor, staining everything. Freemans eyes stared upward, wide and vacant, the lifelessness more peaceful than the man had ever been in life. Lucas looked over at the children and Louie, shivering as he came to his senses. Norris was there too, standing guard, eyes still set on Freemans body, unable to shake the weight of everything that had transpired. And yet, there was one thingone thing that Freeman hadnt been able to escape: Eddie Carter. To be continue Chapter 106 - 93: Aftermath Chapter 106: Chapter 93: Aftermath July 19, Sunday, 2010 Ethan Albarado C POV Two days have passed since Charles Freeman died. It still doesnt feel real. Every time I close my eyes, I see it, the moment he raised the gun, the way his voice cracked when he said "too late," and the way his body collapsed to the floor. It keeps playing in my head like a broken film reel. Even now, I can still hear the ringing in my ears from the gunshot. But theres a strange kind of peace that came after it. Not happiness. Not relief. Just... silence. Like everything in the world froze for a while to process what had just happened. Caleb Carter was rescued. Thank God. I dont even know what wouldve happened if Gerald hadnt reached him in time. Calebs still quiet, still shaken, but hes alive. Thats all that matters. And now, because of that, his brother Jalen Carter can play in the tournament without worrying about him. It feels like a small sliver of hope rising from a nightmare. The real cleanup, though, the one who pulled everything together was Lucass mom: Romanov Graves. Shes not just Lucass mother. Shes also the director and owner of BACBasketball Asian Company. When she arrived, everything changed. She took charge like a force of nature. Within hours, the facility was under lockdown, the injured treated, and the whole scene contained. She didnt panic. She didnt scream. She just acted. Shes the kind of person who walks into chaos and makes it kneel. If there was a real hero in the aftermath of Freemans insanity, it was her. But not everyone handled it so... cleanly. CharlotteLucass Elder sisterheard about what happened. She rushed to the scene as soon as she could. The moment she saw Lucas standing there, bandaged and pale, she lost it. She scolded him, shouted at me too. Her voice cracked with every word, and I swear I saw tears forming in her eyes. "You couldve died!" she cried, her fists pounding weakly against Lucass chest. "Both of you! Why didnt you just call someone?! Why couldnt you... just not be nosy for once?!" We tried to explain, tried to tell her that it wasnt that simple. That things needed to be done. Sure, we were scared, but we did our best. Lucas tried to calm her down, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. I stood beside them, offering weak apologies. It took the whole day to settle her down. We didnt blame her, though. She was right. We almost died, and the weight of that hit us harder when we saw how it hurt the people who cared about us. Then there was Gerald YoungBrandons father. He finally confessed. He broke down in front of Romanov and admitted his sinswhat he did, what he knew, and what he allowed to happen. You could see the guilt pouring out of him like water from a cracked dam. Maybe he thought turning himself in would fix something. Maybe he was tired of carrying it. But Romanov... she didnt just hand him over to the authorities. She knew the risk. If Gerald confessed, his family, Brandon, his wife Naia could be targeted. There were people still out there, parts of the same twisted group that Freeman joined to, who wouldnt hesitate to silence them. So, she made a choice. She ordered her men to protect them, to guard the Young family like they were her own. Some might say shes ruthless. Maybe. But I think she understands loyalty and responsibility more than anyone else in this story. As for the rest of us... were not okay. Louie Gee Davas, Evan Cooper, Brandon Young, Lucas Graves, and mewere all dealing with the trauma in our own ways. Although none of us were Freemans experiments. We werent the ones he altered or tested on. But that doesnt mean we walked away unscarred. We saw death. We saw madness. We stood in the room with someone who had completely unraveled, and we couldnt stop him. Louies just 13. He shouldnt have been anywhere near something like that. Since that day hes trying hard to get over it. Withdrawn. Evan, always the calm one, doesnt talk much either. You can see the storm behind his eyes when he thinks no ones looking. Brandons been trying to stay strong for his mom, but Ive seen his hands shaking when he thinks no one notices. And Lucas? He blames himself. I can tell. He hasnt said it, but I know he thinks he shouldve seen it coming. That he shouldve done more. Me? Im writing this down just to get it out. Trying to make sense of what happened. But I keep circling back to the same thing. Why? Why did Charles Freeman fall so far? I think about what he said before he died. About Eddie Carter. About their childhood. There was love in his voice, bitterness too but underneath it all, there was pain. Like hed been chasing something for years, and somewhere along the way, he lost himself. I dont think he was born evil. Same with Greg Tarrow, who died in the underground not too long ago. They were both men twisted by this world, broken by it. Maybe they were desperate to win in a world that had already written them off. Maybe they wanted control, to feel powerful again. Or maybe... maybe they just wanted to matter. And thats the hardest part to admit. Because even though they hurt people, even though they crossed lines that can never be uncrossed,I still wonder if someone, anyone, had reached out to them at the right time... would things have been different? Sometimes, I think the author of this world is the real villain. Not Freeman. Not Tarrow. The author made their stories tragic. The author made them fall. And now, were the ones left behind to clean up the pieces and figure out how to live with the memory. Still... we survived. We carry the scars, but were alive. Caleb is safe. Jalen can play again ... Location: St. Mercy Hospital C Second Floor, Room 1 VIP Lucas Graves sat in the quiet stillness of the VIP room, his eyes fixed on his father, Roman Graves. At just 14, Lucas had known a world filled with warmth and laughtera world where his father was not just a towering figure of strength but a friend, a coach, and a constant source of joy. He remembered the times when Roman played basketball with him in the park, shared playful banter during spirited games, and even coached him with gentle guidance that mixed strict discipline with unconditional love. Now, though, that same man lay motionless in a hospital bed, reduced to a fragile frame cradled by an intricate web of tubes, wires, and monitors. For three long years now, since that fateful incident that had shattered not only Romans health but also the familys sense of security, his vibrant presence had been replaced by a clinical haze. The vivid memories of his fathers warm smile were now blurred by the constant hum of machines, a haunting reminder of what had been lost. Lucass gaze wandered over the array of medical equipment. The ventilators rhythmic hiss filled the room as it assisted Romans labored breathing. Each exhalation was captured by the digital display on the bedside monitor, which cyclically registered Romans oxygen saturation levels and heart rate. The machines LED indicators blinked in steady cadence, suggesting relative stability, yet the fragile condition of his father was unmistakable. Lines connected to an IV stand dripped saline mixed with a cocktail of medicationsvasopressors, anti-inflammatory agents, and cardiac support drugsall tailored to maintain the vestiges of his fathers failing organs. Within this sterile environment, the room was arranged meticulously. A large window allowed in the soft natural light of early afternoon, casting a pale glow over the polished floors and clinical furniture. Lucass thoughts churned quietly. In the reflective silence, he could no longer restrain the question that had been haunting him since the day of the incident: "(Father... why did Freeman know about you... what really happened that day?)" He longed for clarity, for a glimpse into the shadowed corners of the past that seemed so entangled with his fathers suffering. At that moment, Dr. Keiji Yamamoto, the family physician who had been overseeing Romans condition for years, stepped into the room. A man in his mid-fifties with kind, experienced eyes and a calm demeanor, Dr. Yamamoto had become something of a reluctant confidant, someone who understood the delicate balance between hope and despair that Lucas and his family fought every day. "Lucas... your fathers health is recovering," Dr. Yamamoto said softly, his voice measured and reassuring. He gestured toward the monitor as he approached, his gloved hands pointing out the incremental improvements in Romans vital signs. "Weve seen some improvement in his oxygen saturation, and his heart rate has stabilized. Its slow progress, but its progress nonetheless." Lucas looked up at the doctor, his breath catching for a moment. The words "Slow progress" didnt feel like enough, not when his father had been in this condition for so long. "Thank God," Lucas whispered, his voice hoarse. His eyes flickered back to his father, still unconscious but no longer in immediate danger. It was a relief, yes but it was also painful, a stark reminder of the trauma they had all endured since that day. Dr. Yamamoto continued, adjusting some of the IV tubes that ran into Romans arm. "His reflexes are becoming more responsive as well. Well need to continue monitoring his brain activity closely. Hes still in a coma, and theres a chance he may never fully wake up the way he was. But the fact that were seeing signs of improvement is encouraging." Lucas nodded, his emotions swirling inside him. He wanted to feel hope, but the truth was after so much time had passed, he had learned to temper his expectations. His gaze lingered on his fathers face, pale and unshaven, eyes closed, and lips slightly parted as though he were still holding onto a dream. It didnt look like the father he had known. The father who had laughed, played basketball with him, coached him through every drill. It felt like a lifetime ago. The doctor noted some of the ongoing details of Romans recovery. "His liver function is stable, which is a good sign considering the traumatic stress his body underwent. Were also monitoring his kidney function closely, as its common for them to be affected by prolonged medical issues such as his." Lucas swallowed hard, blinking against the sudden rush of emotions. He knew his fathers body had been through a great deal. The brain injury. The internal bleeding. The physical exhaustion from his struggles, everything had taken its toll. But it was the uncertainty that gnawed at him the most. "Dr. Yamamoto," Lucas asked quietly, voice almost breaking, "will he ever wake up?" The doctor sighed, rubbing his temples before looking at Lucas. "Its hard to say. We cant predict brain recovery with certainty, especially given the complexity of your fathers injuries. Hes been in a coma for over three years now, and while weve seen small improvements, its also possible that he may never regain consciousness. Were at the mercy of his brains healing capacity." He paused, letting the explanation sink in. Lucas listened intently, his mind trying to juggle both the clinical details and the emotional weight of the conversation. "So, the ventilator... its giving him the support he couldnt get on his own?" Lucas asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Exactly," Dr. Yamamoto replied. "The ventilator helps maintain adequate oxygenation and relieves the workload on his respiratory muscles. Weve been titrating the settings carefullyadjusting the tidal volumes and respiratory rateto match his diminishing lung compliance. Over time, we hope that with proper therapy, his lungs will regain enough function to breathe with less assistance. But its a gradual process, Lucas." Dr. Yamamotos explanation was thorough and precise, full of the kind of technical detail that made it clear he understood every nuance of his patients condition. "Weve also been monitoring his cardiac output. His heart is compensating, but theres evidence of persistent strain. Were administering beta-blockers and ACE inhibitors to help reduce that strain and protect his myocardium from further damage. Its a delicate balancing act, maintaining his blood pressure and ensuring that all his systems can work together harmoniously." "Youre doing everything you can, right?" Lucas asked, though he didnt really need the answer. He knew Dr. Yamamoto was doing everything possible. The machines in the room, the careful monitoring of vitals, the medications, it all pointed to the fact that Roman Graves had been given the best possible care. But that didnt ease the weight in Lucass chest. "We are," Dr. Yamamoto replied firmly, meeting his gaze. "I know this isnt easy, Lucas. But your fathers body is strong. His heart is still fighting. That gives us hope." Lucas gave a small nod, clenching his fists at his sides. There was a part of him that couldnt bear to accept the possibility that his father might never fully wake up. But there was also the lingering truth that things had changed, that the incident had changed everything. Freemans death hadnt brought closure. It hadnt brought peace. Instead, it had raised more questions. The past three years had felt like one long, unending stretch of uncertainty. As he stood there, watching his father waiting, hoping for a miracle, Lucas couldnt shake the feeling that the answers he sought might never come. Freeman had known something about his father. And that secret, whatever it was, still lingered like a shadow over their lives. But for now, Lucas could do nothing more than be here, in this moment, holding on to the smallest thread of hope. His father was alive. And in that small, fragile way, there was still a chance. But Lucas knew one thing for sure: he wasnt going to stop searching for the truth about that day. He wasnt going to rest until he understood why Charles Freeman had talk about his father and at the same time focus on his love for basketball. To be continue Chapter 107 - 94: 4 Days Chapter 107: Chapter 94: 4 Days July 21, Tuesday, 2010 11:00 PM C School Gymnasium The fluorescent lights above hummed faintly as we stood together on the polished hardwood court, each of us dressed in our sharp black-and-red Vorpal Basket jerseys. My number#20stood out in white against the black fabric, just like the others. Lucas Graves (#10) C Shooting Forward Evan Cooper (#9) C Point Guard Josh Turner (#8) C Shooting Guard Ryan Taylor (#11) C Power Forward Brandon Young (#15) C Center Aiden White (#7) C Small Forward And then, on the bench: Louie Gee Davas (#5) C Guard/Shooter Coonie Smith (#6) C Guard Jeremy Park (#42) C Forward Kai Mendoza (#31) C Guard/Forward The gym was quiet except for the echoes of our agenda and the faint hum of machines nearby. We were supposed to be eating lunch, but instead, we found ourselves drawn heremaybe out of habit, or maybe because this court was the only place that made us feel like ourselves again. Then Coonie Smith broke the silence. "Bastards. I still havent forgiven you five for leaving us in the dark," he muttered, arms crossed and gaze sharp as he looked directly at me, Lucas, Evan, Brandon, and Louie. Kai Mendoza chimed in beside him, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, yeah! You guys disappeared like ghosts. I thought something happened. We were worried sick." Ryan turned his head toward Brandon, a scowl forming. "Especially you, big buffoon! I thought we were boys. You didnt say a damn thing." Brandon, towering and awkward, scratched the back of his neck and lowered his eyes. "We said sorry... like, a hundred times already. Cant you forgive me, man?" Ryan huffed, arms folded tight. "Hmph!" He turned his head away like a kid poutingbut everyone could see the corner of his mouth twitch. He wasnt that mad anymore. Evan just sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Why are we always like this... Its like babysitting a bunch of middle schoolers." Lucas nudged me with his elbow and gave me a look. Not angry. Just... expectant. Like I was supposed to fix this. I let out a sigh. Of course, I had to be the one to mop up the emotional mess again. "Alright, alright, everyone chill," I said, stepping forward and facing Coonie and Kai. "Youre right. We messed up. We shouldve told you something... anything. But we couldnt. There was too much going on. We were just trying to protect you." Josh raised an eyebrow. "Protect us? Were your teammates, not porcelain dolls." "Yeah," I admitted, "but you werent there when Freeman lost it. When bullets started flying. When people died." The gym fell quiet. I looked over at Lucas, Evan, Brandon, and Louie. We all shared the same haunted silence. That night still echoed inside of us. Lucas finally broke it. "We didnt want you to go through what we went through. We didnt want anyone else getting hurt because of us." Kai shifted uncomfortably and looked down at his shoes. Coonie clicked his tongue and looked away, but the fire in his eyes had softened. Meanwhile, Louie Gee Davas was leaning against the wall, earbuds in, arms crossed, mouthing the lyrics to whatever song was playing. As usual, he was in his own world, unfazed by the emotional battlefield happening in the center of the gym. "Look," I said, softer now. "We know we let you down. And if you still hate us for it, fine. But were here now. We made it out. Together. That has to count for something." For a few seconds, no one spoke. Then Ryan cracked a grin. "Well... if Brandon buys me McDonalds for a whole week, I might forgive him." Brandon groaned. "Bro, Im not made of money..." "Deal?" Ryan grinned wider. Brandon looked like he was calculating the cost in his head. "...Fine." That got a chuckle from Evan. Aiden finally sighed. "Whatever. Just dont pull that crap again. Were a team. You leave us in the dark like that again, Im benching you myself." Coonie smirked. "You wish you had that power." The tension slowly began to dissolve into light-hearted jabs and laughter. It wasnt perfectbut it was healing. The first step. We were broken, all of us. Some more than others. But we were still here. Still on this court. Still Vorpal. And for now... that was enough. We were broken, all of us. Some more than others. But we were still here. Still on this court. Still Vorpal. And for now... that was enough. I clapped my hands once and faced the team. "Alright, now that the dramas settled" I glanced at Ryan and Brandon who were still bickering like kids "we need to talk about the upcoming tournament. July 28, 2010." Evan nodded. "Yeah. The Qualifier Phase." "Exactly," I said, pacing a little across the hardwood. "Middle school teams from every city and district will compete. Only the top two teams from each local area get to advance. So we cant afford to slack." Ryan scratched the back of his head. "Wait, wait... I still dont get how this whole thing works." I sighed. "Youre just like Louie." Louie looked up from tying his shoelace. "Hehehehe." I smirked. "Let me break it down for all the slow learners. Alright, heres how it goes." .... Lets Start from the Beginning: Step 1: Local Trials C Qualifier Phase Every middle school team in each city or district competes. Only the top 2 teams from each district will qualify. These two advance to the Division Cup. I held up two fingers. "Weve got 32 districts across the country." Evan added, "So thats 2 teams per district..." "Yup," I confirmed. 2 teams x 32 districts = 64 teams moving on to the next round. .... Step 2: Division Cup "Now we take those 64 teams and divide them by regions," I continued. North C 16 teams South C 16 teams East C 16 teams West C 16 teams "Each division runs a mini-tournament or round-robin format." "The top 4 teams from each region will advance to the Nationals." Ryan blinked. "Wait, so 4 from North, 4 from South, East, and West?" I nodded again. "Exactly. That gives us 16 total teams in the next stage:" 4 regions 4 teams = 16 teams in the Sweet 16. .... National Sweet 16 C The Knockout Stage "Now were entering serious territory," I said, voice firmer. Single-Elimination Format Round of 16 Quarterfinals Semifinals Finals "One loss, and youre out." Brandon muttered, "So no second chances..." "Exactly," I said. "This is where every match counts. Where every mistake can end your run. And..." ..... The Grand Arena C National Middle School Championship I paused, letting it sink in. "If we make it to the Final 4, we play in the Grand Arena." Lucass eyes narrowed. "The one with national broadcast?" "Yeah," I nodded. "Live fans. Cameras. Scouts. College reps. Everyones watching." Josh Turner gave a low whistle. "Man... thats pressure." "But thats..." I said, stepping to the center of the court. "Thats the dream, right? To play on the biggest stage of them all. " I looked around at all of themmy teammates, my brothers. Even the ones still annoyed or half-smiling. Even the ones carrying trauma and pain. Even Louie, who was quietly tapping his foot to music only he could hear. "Were Vorpal. Weve come this far through hell. And now weve got a shot at something bigger than ourselves." Silence fell. The air shifted. Then Lucas finally spoke, soft but clear. "Lets go win it, then." Louie suddenly stood up, fists clenched with a grin stretched wide across his face. "I CANT WAIT!" he shouted, the sound echoing off the gym walls. Everyone turned to look at him. Even Coonie cracked a smirk. I couldnt help but smile, nodding. "Then lets get to work," I said, my voice calm but serious. No more delays. No more doubts. Lucas stepped forward. "Training schedule?" I nodded. "Two-a-days. Morning conditioning, evening tactics and scrimmage. Well simulate real games starting tomorrow. We go full-speed, full-heart." Evan added, "Lets review each teams top scorers too. Ill dig through footage and stats." "Hey, I can help with that," Josh said. "Ive been following a couple of teams from the North sidetheyve got this shooter thats nuts." Ryan was already stretching. "Fine. If were gonna win, Ill give it my all." Brandon grinned. "Thats the spirit." "Good," I said. "Because from this moment onwere not just playing ball. Were fighting for our future." Lucas nodded. "For ourselves." Evan: "For our families." Josh: "For the team." Ryan: "For pride." Brandon: "For Vorpal Basket." .... As the sun filtered through the high gym windows, casting long shadows across the court as the girls basketball team took a short water break. Sweat clung to their jerseys, and the distant sound of a bouncing ball echoed. Charlotte Graves, 15 years old, leaned quietly against the wall, her gaze drifting across the room until it landed on a familiar figure. "Natalie..." she called softly. Natalie Carter, still holding a water bottle, turned her head. "Captain." There was a pause. An invisible thread of tension hung between themshared, unspoken. Charlotte stepped closer. "Um... hows Caleb?" Natalie lowered her bottle slowly. Her usual brightness dimmed a little. "Hes doing fine... as fine as anyone can be, I guess. Hes got therapy sessions lined up now. Mom said the doctors think itll help with the trauma." She hesitated. "I mean... who wouldnt need therapy after that? They said he saw... Uncle Charles... die." Her voice faltered near the end, eyes fixed on the floor. Charlottes hands tightened slightly into fists. "I... I know that feeling too." Natalie blinked and looked up at her captainher friend. What she saw in Charlottes eyes made her breath catch: pain. Familiar pain. Not the kind you hear about. The kind you live through. Charlottes gaze was distant, but her voice remained steady. "Seeing someone break right in front of you...Ive seen that." A long pause. "And you dont forget it." Natalie didnt say anything at first. She just looked at Charlotte with quiet understanding. Then finally: "...Was it Lucas or you?" Charlotte didnt answer right away. She just nodded once. Barely. But it said enough. She looked up again, forcing a small, brave smile. "But what we gotta do now... is be strong. Right?" Natalie nodded slowly. "Yeah. For them. For Caleb. For everyone." Charlotte stepped back onto the court and called to the team: "Breaks over, girls! Back to work!" Natalie followed her, determination in her step now. Because both of them knew: Even if your hearts still healing You keep playing. You keep fighting. You stay strong. .... Location: Crescent Ridge C Chicago Raptors Training Facility Time:July 21, 2010 C 6:32 PM The gyms lights buzzed faintly overhead, illuminating the polished hardwood below. Faint echoes of sneakers and the controlled thump of basketballs filled the airbut the usual rhythm was off today. There was no joking. No music. No trash talk. Only focus. The Chicago Raptors, Crescent Ridges elite youth squad, were going through their evening training drills with an intensity that could be mistaken for a playoff warm-up. A sudden blur of motion flashed across the court. Jalen "Flash" Carter (#2) sliced through two defenders with a lightning-quick crossover, his body tilting like a race car rounding a tight curve. One bounce pass behind the back, no-look, right into the shooting pocket of Tyrese Lang (#3) in the corner. Tyreses feet were already set. Swish. The net didnt even move. Tyrese "The Ghost Shooter" Lang stepped back and reset calmly, like a machine programmed only to score. Three defenders closed in next possessiontoo late. Bang. Another three. "Call the coroner," Malik Ryker muttered under his breath. Malik "The Lock" Ryker (#9) crashed into the lane next play. A high-flying layup attempt came from Jeremy, one of the juniors called in for defense. Malik leaptnot to block. He caught the ball mid-air, snatched it out of the air like a hawk grabbing prey. His legs coiled. Slam. The entire gym echoed as the backboard shivered. Malik landed and simply walked back to the perimeter, his face unreadable. Meanwhile, Zion Vale (#8) stood at the top of the key, hands on his hips, eyes scanning like a war general. He didnt move fastbut he didnt need to. He orchestrated plays without touching the ball for several seconds. A jab step here, a screen call theresoon, the defense was tangled. He lobbed a pass over the zone without even looking. The ball dropped like a raindrop into the paint where Kobe Morales (#11) waited. Kobe "Tower" Morales turned, two defenders on him. He didnt flinch. Drop step. Fake. Pivot. Up-and-under. Lay-in. He said nothing as he jogged back to the baseline. He never did. Coach Mendez, clipboard in hand, watched quietly from the sideline, not interrupting. He knew this team needed no motivation. Just room to breathe. And space to dominate. On the far end of the court, Jalen Carter stood dribbling absently as the others reset. Sweat dripped from his chin, but his eyes werent on the court anymore. They were distant. His breathing slowed. His body was heresharp and steady. But his mind... ...was somewhere else. He stared at the Raptors team logo at center court. But he didnt see it. Instead, he saw flashes of that day. The day Caleb Carter, his little brother, nearly died. His jaw tensed, his grip tightening around the ball. He inhaled... exhaled. (I should probably pay a visit to Vorpal Basket... to thank them... for saving my little brother Caleb.) He took a step toward the sideline. "Flash, you good?" Zion asked, jogging past. Jalen nodded slowly. "Yeah. I just... got somewhere I need to go." To be continue Chapter 108 - 95: Training? Chapter 108: Chapter 95: Training? Time: July 22, 2010 C 4:00 PM Location: Oak Hill Academy C School Gym The gym smelled of polished wood and old sweat, sunbeams streaming in through the high windows. The clang of the rim, the squeak of sneakersfamiliar sounds. But today felt different. I looked at my team, lined up in front of me, their faces expectant. Lucas Graves (#10) C arms crossed, focused and alert. Evan Cooper (#9) C bouncing the ball with quiet rhythm, eyes flicking to me. Josh Turner (#8) C leaning forward, hands on knees, ready. Ryan Taylor (#11) C tall and sturdy, nodding slowly. Brandon Young (#15) C standing with silent intensity. Aiden White (#7) C already stretching, eager to move. Then my eyes drifted to the bench. Louie Gee Davas (#5) C leaned back, grinning wide. Coonie Smith (#6) C arms behind his head, relaxed but listening. Jeremy Park (#42) C straight-backed, serious. Kai Mendoza (#31) C one foot up on the bench, tightening his shoes. "Im glad you all came," I said, stepping up in front. "Because today... were going into Phase 4." Louie shot up from his seat. "Yes! Its about time we level up!" Lucas tilted his head. "What are we doing, Ethan?" The gym grew quiet. All eyes turned to me. I took a breath and raised my voice so everyone could hear. "This phase is called Game Situational Phase C Teammate Roles & Actions." I turned and pointed to the whiteboard near the sideline, where Id written the plan in thick blue marker. .... Scenario-Based Scrimmages "Think clutch time. Down by two. Three seconds left. What do you do?" Heads nodded. Evan leaned in slightly. Josh muttered, "Finally, real game work." "This is about simulating high-pressure moments. Were building decision-making. Chemistry." Point Guards call the play. "ISO", "screen-left", "horns", anythingbe the brain. Shooting Guards find space, spot up, or cutbe ready to shoot under pressure. Small Forwards? Attack or space out for the game-winnerdont hesitate. Power Forwards and Centers? Set hard screens. Roll. Pop. Crash the boardscontrol the paint. Bench? Watch, learn, and rotate in. Execute when your numbers called. Everyone was listening now. Fully locked in. "And this..." I tapped the whiteboard, "...will improve our Court Vision, Passing, Shooting, Decision-Making." .. Shot Selection Drills "Bad shots lose games. Good ones win championships." Constant movement. No dribbling the clock out. Drive-and-kick. Swing it till someones wide open. Pass up a bad look, always. Off-ball screens and smart cutsnot just for show. I looked at Josh. "This is how you become deadly without chucking shots." He nodded seriously. ... Pick and Roll Reads "This next ones hugePick and Roll. If we master this, well break any defense." Ball-handler? Read the screen. React. Screener? If they switch, roll hard. If your shots solid, pop out. Off-ball players? Space out. Cut. Keep defenders guessing. Defenders? Practice switching, icing, hedging. Talk loud. Communicate everything. Ryan raised his hand. "What about rebounding after the pop?" "Great question," I said. "If the pop misses, crash hard. Second chance buckets win games." ... Defensive Rotation & Help "This is the difference between good teams and great teams." On-ball defenderscut off the drive, funnel baseline if were set up for it. Help-side? Rotate fast. Weak side drops in to cover rollers. Everyoneclose out on shooters like your life depends on it. Talk. Constantly. Switch. Help. Recover. Brandon thumped his chest. "No easy buckets." "Thats the spirit," I smirked. I took a step back. Everyone looked fired up. The energy shifted. "Now split up. Bench rotates in after every scenario. Evan, you lead the first Point Guard call. Lucas, youre the first shooter. Aiden, cut baseline. Lets see what youve got." Louie whispered to Coonie on the bench, "You feel that? Were not just training now... were turning into something real." "Vorpal," Evan said under his breath, nodding. "Lets evolve." As I watched them set up the first scenario3 seconds left, down by 2I felt it: The team was becoming more than a team. We were becoming a unit. Tighter. Sharper. Hungrier. And this was just the beginning. ... As The sound of the whistle echoed through the gym like the start of a war. "Three seconds on the clock. Were down by two. Weve got the inbound." I clapped my hands once, sharp. "Lets go." On the floor stood: Evan Cooper (#9) at Point Guard Josh Turner (#8) at Shooting Guard Lucas Graves (#10) at Small Forward Ryan Taylor (#11) at Power Forward Brandon Young (#15) at Center On the sideline, I watched, clipboard in hand, eyes tracking every motion. Inbound scenario: Lucas to inbound. Ball sideline-left. Brandon sets the off-ball screen. Evan receives the pass. "Go ISO flare!" Evan barked, voice sharp. "Lucas corner! Josh drift weak side!" Lucas inbounded and immediately sprinted to the corner as Ryan and Brandon executed a flare screen. Brandons wide shoulders clipped Joshs defender just enough to create confusion. Evan caught the pass clean at the top of the key. 2.8 seconds. His defender played up tighttoo tight. Hesitation dribble. Left jab. Pull-backEvan dropped into the pocket of space, but he didnt shoot. 1.9 seconds. Josh was curling around the opposite wing, fading to the weak-side corner. His man followed, but too slow. Lucas, reading it perfectly, cut across the baseline. Brandon sealed off his man in the paint. "Now." Evan flicked a pass no-look behind the back, quick and low. Lucas caught it clean in the corner. 1.1 seconds. He rose fluid, balanced his form clean. The gym held its breath. Swish. BUZZZZER. Silence. Then Louie leapt off the bench. "Thats what Im talking about!" Coonie shouted, "He cooked him! Straight chef work!" I smirked. But I wasnt done yet. "Reset. Same scenario. Different team. Kai, Aiden, Jeremy, Louie, Coonieyoure up." They ran onto the court. No hesitation. .... Second Scenario C Same Time, Different Minds This time: Kai Mendoza (#31) took Point Louie Gee Davas (#5) at Shooting Guard Aiden White (#7) at Small Forward Jeremy Park (#42) at Power Forward Coonie Smith (#6) at Center "Kai," I called out. "Read the floor. Make the right call." He nodded. Louie whispered, "Run double flare. Ill decoy left." Kai inbounded from the right. Jeremy and Coonie faked staggered screens while Louie sprinted to the left corner. Fake action. Meanwhile, Aiden delayed, then exploded off the baseline, curling tight around Coonies screen, popping up near the top of the key. Kai, calm and surgical, zipped the pass over a leaping defender. 1.8 seconds. Aiden caught. Pump faked. Defender bit hard. One hard dribble right. Side-step. Shoots. Bounce. Bounce... Swish. Another clean bucket. BUZZZZER. .... We rotated again. Each group ran the scenario with a different outcome. One play ended with Brandon rolling hard for a dunk. Another, Josh made the right read and passed up a bad shot, giving Ryan a clean mid-range look. Evan even tried a step-back three once. He missed. But it was the right shot at the right time. What We Gained: Shot Awareness: Guys started passing up contested looks without me needing to shout. Spacing: Players flowed like water, shifting and relocating off each others moves. Voice: Communication ramped up. "Screen left!" "Corner open!" "Roll, roll!" It wasnt perfect. We messed up rotations. Someone forgot to switch. A pass went out of bounds. But the feel of the team was changing. From a scattered mix of players... to a system. A trust chain. ..... As the last whistle blew, the gym was thick with the scent of sweat and determination. My teammates, chests heaving, faces glistening with effort, wiped the sweat from their brows and sank to their knees or leaned on their hips, catching their breaths. The echo of pounding sneakers on the hardwood faded into a low hum of heavy breathing and occasional murmurs of encouragement. I stepped forward, raising my voice so it cut through the heavy air. "Look at each other." Their heads lifted. Eyes met across the courtLucas, Evan, Josh, Ryan, Brandon, Aiden... even the bench playersLouie, Coonie, Jeremy, Kaithey all locked eyes like for the first time truly seeing the teammates beside them, not just fellow players. "What you just did," I said slowly, making sure every word landed, "isnt just about skill. Its about trust. Chemistry. Timing. Youre not a group of scorers anymore. Youre a team." The nods came fast, small but meaningfulan unspoken agreement spreading through the group. I could see the realization settling in, a spark of understanding that we were becoming more than just individuals chasing points. I let the moment linger, then added, "Now, continue the training." "Yes, sir!" they responded in unison, voices ringing with fresh energy. I paused, the words echoing in my mind. "Sir?" I thought wryly, watching these kids with a strange mixture of affection and distance. Fourteen years oldhere, Ethan Albarado, with the mind of a 28-year-old man named Jonathan Brandit, whose life had shattered long ago. I remembered clearlythe accident. The injury. How at 14, everything I dreamed of as a basketball player was ripped away, my career destroyed in a moment. I had fallen into darkness, lost everything I loved. But this world... this new life, this novel called Turning Pointit was my second chance. My blessing. Here, I could play basketball again. Here, I had the power to change fate. I glanced down, pulling my attention back to the glowing interface only I could seethe system that had become my lifeline. System: Ethan Albarado Level: Pro Upgrade Points (UP): 200 Shop Points (SP): 5000 ... Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes] Shooting Accuracy: 27 Layup Skill: 18 Dunk Skill: 16 Dribbling Skill: 26 Passing Skill: 17 ... [Defensive Attributes] Defense: 16 Blocking Ability: 15 Steal Skill: 18 ... [Physical Attributes] Stamina: 20 Endurance: 18 Speed: 20 .. Skills Basic Power Shot Basic Precision Pass Basic Dribble Magic Johnson Passing Vision (Advanced Level) Playmakers Vision (Pro Level) Elite Crossover Dribble (Pro Level) Sharpshooter Focus (Pro Level) Lockdown Defense (Pro Level) Clutch Performer (Pro Level) Ankle Breaker (Pro Level) Iron Will Stamina (Pro Level) Jordan Shooting Form (Advanced Level) Kobe Fadeaway (Advanced Level) Dennis Rodman Charge Taking (Advanced Level) LeBron James Momentum Saver (Advanced Level) Tim Duncan Stamina (Advanced Level) ... I stared at the list, a mixture of pride and strategy swirling inside me. All my legendary skills still hovered at the advanced level. Upgrading them to pro level would be expensivecosting many of my precious upgrade points. Two hundred upgrade points and five thousand shop points sat waiting, almost mocking my indecision. The upcoming tournament loomed in the distance like a mountain, and every choice I made now would ripple through my teams fate. I thought about the underground incidentthe mission where we saved the White family and those kids, crushed the villains responsible. That operation had earned me most of these rewards. The system must have been watchingrewarding me for being a "nosy hero," as I joked to myself once. Heh, who knew being stubborn could pay off? But even with all this strength... I still felt the hunger. The need to push harder. To grow stronger. Because if we ever faced those "monster teams," the ones stacked with pro-level talent like the Chicago Raptors, wed need every ounce of skill, every fraction of stamina. I exhaled slowly and looked back at the gym. The kids were back in motion, passing, cutting, and calling out plays. Their energy and passion burned bright. This was my new world. My new chance. And I wasnt going to waste it. Then as my thoughts drifted deeper into strategy and memories, a sharp voice sliced through the gyms hum. "You must be the team Vorpal Basket!" Everyone froze mid-dribble and spun around, eyes wide with surprise and curiosity. Lucas was the first to break the silence. His eyebrows shot up as recognition hit him. "Youre... Jalen?" The boy who stepped into the gym light was tall, lean, and confidentdefinitely no ordinary visitor. His presence commanded attention without a word. He wore the Chicago Raptors jersey, number 2, with an easy swagger that radiated leadership. Jalen Carter grinned, flashing a bright, almost mischievous smile that earned him the nickname "Flash." "Nice to meet you all. Im Jalen Carter" To be continue Chapter 109 - 96: Jalen Carter Chapter 109: Chapter 96: Jalen Carter July 22, 2010 Location: Oak Hill Academy Gymnasium The air in the gym buzzed with the rhythmic sound of squeaking shoes and bouncing basketballsuntil a voice rang out from the entrance, sharp and confident. "You must be the team Vorpal Basket." The entire gym fell into a stunned silence. Everyone turned. Standing at the doorway was a boy, around their age, but with a presence that demanded attention. He wore a black-and-red Chicago Raptors warm-up jacket, the kind stitched with pride and pedigree. A duffel bag hung loosely over one shoulder, and the fading sunlight outside caught the red trim of his sleeves, making him almost glow against the backdrop of the gym. He looked around the room, smile lazy but purposeful. "Nice to meet you all," he said, tone dipped in swagger. "Im Jalen Carteraka Flash." The moment stretched. Tension mixed with awe as the players from Vorpal Basket exchanged glances. Lucas stepped forward slowly, recognition dawning in his eyes. "Youre... Jalen.." Jalen tilted his head, smirk deepening. "The one and only." His voice was calm but carried weight. The kind of confidence born not from ego, but proof. Jalen Carterone of the fastest rising youth players in the country, the point guard prodigy of the Chicago Raptors. Nicknamed Flash not just for his speed, but his ability to appear where you least expected and turn the tide of a game with a single possession. Ethan Albarado narrowed his eyes slightly, arms crossing over his chest as realization hit him. Hes not here by chance. This has Calebs name written all over it... He took a cautious step forward. "What brings you to Oak Hill?" he asked. Jalen didnt answer right away. Instead, he simply stared at Ethan, the smirk fading into something more seriousmore knowing. "Well," he said at last, "you already know... Ethan Albarado." The moment hung heavy. Ethan exhaled, reading the truth behind the words. (My guess confirmed. Jalen wasnt just here for basketball... he was here because of what happened during the White Family Incident. That underground situation where we rescued his younger brother Caleb and a group of other kids. It had been dangerous, insane evenbut worth it. And I knew it left an impression.) Ethan gave a slight nod. "We accept your thanks." Behind him, the rest of the team had formed a half-circle near midcourt, quiet but alert. Everyone was watching, not sure whether to be impressed, cautious, or both. ThensuddenlyLouie, standing by the top of the key, spun the ball in his hands and tossed it toward Jalen. The ball flew fast. Jalen caught it one-handed, effortlessly. No panic. No hesitation. He just absorbed the pass like the ball belonged to him. The gyms atmosphere shifted. Subtle gasps. Raised eyebrows. Lucas leaned toward Aiden and whispered, "He didnt even flinch." Louie stepped forward, his usual fire returning fast. Arms crossed, chin up. "They say youre a prodigy," Louie said, tone direct. "Beating pro-level guys already. That true?" Jalen chuckled, resting the ball on his hip. "Is that what theyre saying about me now?" he replied, rubbing the back of his head in mock modesty. "Man, people love stretching stories." Louie didnt laugh. "Then prove it." Jalen blinked. "Prove it?" Louie pointed directly at the court. "Fight me. One-on-one. Basketball." There was a beat of silence. Jalen grinned. "Fight, huh? You trying to start a brawl?" "I mean basketball, idiot!" Louie barked; cheeks flushed. "Relax, relax," Jalen said, hands up in mock surrender, though his eyes twinkled with curiosity. "Just messing with you." But now, his interest was real. He glanced at Louie thoughtfully. Hes young. Still raw. But gutsy. A little wild card, huh? Then, his gaze scanned the rest of the team. Ryan, tall and grounded. Brandon, the big man with a quiet storm in his stance. Aidenversatile, sharp. And then His eyes locked on Lucas Graves. A moment passed. The two didnt speak. They didnt have to. In that single glance, Jalen knew. That must be him... Lucas. The one my coach mentioned. "The copycat". Ethan, noticing the building energy, stepped forward againthis time yanking Louie by the back of his collar like an older brother scolding a reckless sibling. "You, reckless brat," he muttered, knuckling Louies head with a light tap. "Ow!" Louie shouted, rubbing his scalp. "I was serious, though!" The tension finally cracked. Laughter spread across the court, easing the electricity in the air. But Jalen didnt join in. His eyes returned to Ethan. This time, his expression had changedjust slightly. More thoughtful. (So thats him... Ethan Albarado. The Genius. Thats what Noah our analyst called him... said he sees the game like a war general. Two steps ahead. Dangerous.) "Your teams got good chemistry," Jalen said at last, spinning the ball slowly on his finger. Ethan shrugged. "Still a long way to go." "But youll be ready," Jalen said, no hint of question in his voiceonly certainty. Ethans eyes sharpened. "Yeah. We will." Jalen caught the spinning ball midair with a smooth tap, his grin returning. "Good. Because I didnt just come to say thanks." Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Then why?" Jalen bounced the ball once. A loud THUMP echoed through the gym, commanding everyones attention. "I came to see what kind of team could save a group of kidnapped kids, take down criminals... and still show up at Oak Hill like it was just another day." He paused, letting that hang. "And maybe..." he continued, a glint flashing in his eye, "...maybe scout the team well face in the tournament finals." Gasps rang out. "The finals?!" Josh blurted out. "Youre that confident?" Evan asked, eyebrows lifted. Jalen turned to them, tone still calm. "Of course. Were the Raptors. But Ive heard stories. About Vorpal Basket. About you guys." He looked back at Ethan. "I want to see if those stories are just hype... or if theyre about something real." That was it. A challenge, wrapped in curiosity. A warning, cloaked in respect. No trash talk. No arrogance. Just factsand fire. Ethan grinned, not backing down. "Then you better watch closely," he said, voice low and steady. Jalen nodded slowly. "Dont disappoint me, Ethan." Ethan said, locking his eyes on him "Wouldnt dream of it." "Hey! Our one-on-one," Louie called out, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a lit fuse. "You game or not?" Jalen Carter turned slowly, amused, spinning the ball in his palm. "Youre persistent, Ill give you that." The tension in the gym cracked like static. Aiden White crossed his arms from the sideline, muttering, "This kid never chills, huh?" Josh Turner leaned toward Coonie and whispered, "Hes challenging Jalen Carter. Bro, Louies got guts... or no brain." "I heard that!" Louie shouted, pointing without breaking eye contact with Jalen. Coonie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "His not gonna stop until he gets humbled." Jalen finally stepped forward, bouncing the ball with a single thump. "Alright, alright. You want a one-on-one? You got it." Louies eyes lit up like fireworks. "YEAH!" "But," Jalen added, holding up a finger, "First to five. Ones only. No fouls, no trash calls. You sure you can handle that?" Louie cracked his neck and nodded. "Just make sure you dont blink, Flash." Jalen smirked. "Cute." The two made their way to the center of the half-court. The rest of the Vorpal Basket team gathered near the sideline like fans at a ringside match. Lucas leaned against the wall, his gaze locked on Jalen. (He doesnt look serious... but I get the feeling hes reading Louie like a book.) Ethan stood beside him, arms folded. "This will either be a disaster... or a miracle." Kai nudged Jeremy. "Im betting on disaster." "I got faith," Jeremy replied. "Louie plays like a firecracker. Might catch Flash off-guard." "Keyword: might," Aiden chimed in. Back on the court, Jalen casually dribbled the ball. "You sure you dont want a warm-up?" Louie held out his hand. "Ball." Jalen smiled and tossed it over. "Your funeral." ... Possession 1 Louie starts. He jab-stepped left, then rightfast. Too fast for a 13-year-old. Jalen didnt budge. "Come on," Louie muttered. He made his movea quick crossover, then exploded to the right. His first step was fast. But Jalen was faster. Before Louie could even think about pulling up, Jalens hand was already there, knocking the ball clean out of bounds. "Balls still yours," Jalen said casually, strolling to reset. "Nice first step though." Ethan blinked. (That timing was perfect. He didnt even reachhe just moved.) ... Possession 2 Louie ball. Louie took a deep breath. His pride was poked. He faked left and stepped back, launching a three. Swish. "Lets gooo!" Louie shouted, raising one arm like a champ. The team erupted in cheers. "Okay! Louie gets the first flame!" Josh laughed. "1-0 Louie," Ryan called out with a grin. Jalen nodded, smirking. "Alright. Your turns over now." ... Possession 3 Jalen ball No hesitation. Jalen exploded into motion the moment the ball touched his hands. One sharp dribble forwardthen he was gone. Louies eyes widened. His body leaned left to cut off the drive, but Jalen was already behind him. A behind-the-back shift, smooth as silk, sent Louie stumbling the wrong direction. In a blink, Jalen floated to the rim. A gentle scoop layup kissed the glass and dropped in. "1-1," Lucas murmured, eyes narrowing as he leaned forward. Louie stood frozen, still processing what had just happened. He turned slowly to Ethan. "Did you see that? Did heteleport?" Ethan kept his arms crossed, his gaze sharp. "No... Hes just that fast." ... Possession 4 Louie ball Louie exhaled hard through his nose, bouncing the ball with controlled anger. He faced Jalen head-on, dropping low in his stance. One fake to the left. Another to the right. Then a quick crossover aimed to bait Jalen into lunging. But Jalen didnt bite. Instead, he slid into Louies drive path like he had read the play in advance. As Louie shifted his weight to the right to take off Swipe! Jalens hand snatched the ball clean mid-dribble. "Ouch," Kai winced, clutching his own stomach as if he had just lost the ball. Brandons eyes sparkled with awe. "That was amazing. Flash is really different." To be continue Chapter 110 - 97 – Flash vs Fire Chapter 110: Chapter 97 C Flash vs Fire Possession 5 Jalen ball This time, Jalen approached with calm precision. A single dribble forward. A subtle head fake. Thenstep-back. Clean separation. He rose smoothly and launched the three. Swish. Perfect form. Perfect arc. "2-1, Flash," Ryan called, his voice subdued by the disbelief hanging in the air. Louie clicked his tongue. "Tch... no big deal." But his tightened jaw said otherwise. ... Possession 6 Louie ball Something snapped in Louie. He gritted his teeth, dribbled harder, and moved with frantic speed. Spin move. Crossover. Double cross. He danced with desperation, every move sharper, fasterfueled by pride. Finally, he broke through. He got past Jalenjust barelyand surged toward the basket. He jumped, fully extended, reaching out for the layup like it was a final shot at pride. But Jalen was right behind him. SMACK! The ball slammed against the backboard with brutal force. Gasps echoed through the gym. "NO WAY!" Josh yelled, leaping to his feet like he couldnt believe his eyes. "HE BLOCKED THAT!?" Evans jaw dropped, his head swinging toward Lucas. Ethans eyes followed Jalen as he landed smoothly. (Hes not just fast. His timing is perfect. Its like he knows whats coming before it happens...) Jalen turned with a confident grin and said, "You almost had that one." Louie hit the floor and stared up, stunnedhis pride dented more than his body. .... Possession 7 Jalen ball The gym grew quiet again, the air thick with tension. Everyone knew Jalen was leading 3-1but the real tension wasnt about the score. It was about how he played. He wasnt even sweating. Jalen stood just past the three-point line, bouncing the ball lightly, eyes locked on Louie. He gave a slight hesitation move, rocking forward Then: boom. Crossover behind the backinto a spin. It was poetry in motion. The spin was tight, low, almost too fast for the eye to track. Louie bit too hard on the hesi and staggered backward, his footing slipping just enough for Jalen to create space. Jalen rose, smooth and relaxed. The shot went up. Swish. "3-1," Ryan called quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. Louie clenched his fists. He was breathing hard now, his chest rising and falling with every breath. Sweat dripped from his brow. His heart thumpednot just from exhaustion, but frustration. He was doing everything he had. But Flash made it look effortless. Still, Louies eyes burned with resolve. He wasnt done. .... Possession 8 Louie ball This time, Louie didnt waste a second. One hard dribblethen a step-back. He rose from deep, putting every ounce of grit into the shot. The release looked clean. But it hit the rim with a loud clank, bouncing high. Missed. Jalen casually caught the rebound like it was nothing. He looked at Louie, smile playful. "You should try playing with rhythm, not rage." "Shut up and play!" Louie barked back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. From the sideline, Lucas crossed his arms. (Hes pushing himself too hard... Louies not thinking clearly. Hes trying to fight lightning with firebut fire without control just burns you.) .... Possession 9 Jalen ball Jalen stepped into a triple-threat position. The stance was picture perfectcalm, calculated. He didnt rush. He just stared Louie down. Then, without even breaking eye contact, Jalen lifted the ball, flicking it off the backboard at an angle so sharp it looked absurd. Bank shot. Swish. "4-1." The gym fell silent. Then "He banked that on purpose," Aiden whispered, his mouth slightly open. Ethan just nodded slowly, hands in his pockets. (Hes playingbut hes not going all out. Hes testing Louie. Every move is deliberate. Every shot... a lesson.) Louie gritted his teeth and wiped his face. His legs were heavy now, but his eyes still burned. "Still got one more, Flash." Jalen gave him a thumbs up. "Show me." ... Final Possession Louie ball Louie bounced the ball slowly, deliberately. No more fancy footwork. No more tricks. Just him. His heart. And the will to score. He lowered his stance and stared Jalen down. The gym seemed to fade awayno more teammates, no more noise. Only Flash and Fire. Louie exploded left, driving hard. Jalen stayed with himbut Louie had something left. At the last second, he spun back right, creating the slightest gap. He pulled up. The shot rose high. Perfect arc. Perfect form. Swish. "4-2," Evan announced, standing tall, a grin forming on his face. The gym burst into cheers. Josh jumped up. "Lets gooo!" Ethan allowed a small smile. (He got one clean. That wasnt luck... That was real.) Jalen nodded, impressed. He clapped his hands together, eyes gleaming. "Not bad." ... Game Point Jalen ball Jalen walked slowly to the top of the key. No flash. No trash talk. Just quiet confidence. He bounced the ball once... twice... and thengone. A sudden burst of speed like a thunderclap. One quick crossoverJalen was past Louie in a blink. Louie lunged, trying to recover, but his legs were too slow. Jalen floated up, calm, collected Layup. Game. "5-2. Flash wins," Lucas called, his arms crossed, voice steady. Louie dropped to his knees, panting, sweat dripping down his chin. "Damn it..." he muttered, pounding the floor once in frustration. But then A hand appeared in front of him. Jalen. "You got guts," he said with a grin. "And your fire? Its real. But polish it." Louie looked up, surprised. Then he took the hand, pulling himself to his feet. "Next time... Im not losing." Jalen smiled wider. "Looking forward to it." ... The Vorpal Basket team rushed over. "Louie, that was dope!" Josh slapped him on the back. "You scored on him, bro!" Evan added. "I thought you were cookedbut you clawed back," Ryan said with a smirk. Aiden handed Louie a towel. "You good?" Louie nodded, still catching his breath. "Yeah... but hes the real deal." From the sideline, Ethan walked past Jalen, giving him a calm nod. "You holding back on purpose?" Jalen winked. "Maybe." Ethan smirked. "Ill remember that." Jalen gave him a light nod, the grin never leaving his face. As he strolled toward the bench, he casually spun the ball on his finger, like it weighed nothing at all. The rest of the team surrounded Louie, but Lucas stood off to the side, arms crossed, eyes sharp, quietly observing. Jalen. (So thats Flash... Hes not just fast. Hes polished. Calm. And he learns as he plays.) Lucas stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "How about me?" he asked. "Would you like to play basketball against me?" The gym seemed to pause. Jalen caught the ball and stopped spinning it, letting it rest in his hands as he turned toward Lucas. He studied him for a second, gaze measured. Then a small smirk formed on his face. "I get it," Jalen said. "You want to know how good you are... if you fought me." Lucass expression didnt waver. His yellow eyes locked onto Jalens. Ethan glanced between the two, sensing the shift in the air. But Jalen wasnt done. He turned his head slightly, looking at Ethanthen back to Lucas. "But first," Jalen said, voice calm, confident "I want to play against Ethan." Lucas raised an eyebrow. Ethans own smirk faded into something more serious. (Hes choosing me first... why?) Jalen walked a few steps toward Ethan, tossing the ball lightly into the air and catching it behind his back. "You saw it, didnt you?" Jalen asked. Ethan just looks at him and didnt answer. The two stood only a few feet apart nowtwo different types of confidence, clashing without even needing to touch a ball. Lucas looked between them, a subtle tension forming in his jaw. (He chose Ethan over me... Is it because Ethans stronger? Or because hes curious? Either way... Ill be next.) Brandon whispered from the sideline, eyes wide. "Yo... Jalen vs Ethan? This gyms gonna explode." Aiden grinned. "Ive never seen Ethan get serious. Maybe now we will." Ryan crossed his arms. "Or maybe Jalen will smoke him like Louie." Louie, still catching his breath, stood beside Lucas. "Hey," he muttered, glancing at him. "You gonna challenge him too?" Lucas didnt answer at first. Then he said quietly, "Yeah. But not now. Let Ethan go first." Who will win? The one who challenged the story. Versus the one above it. Flash vs the Extra. And Lucas, the protagonist? Hed be watching every second. Waiting for his turn. To be continue Chapter 111 - 98: The Genius vs The Pro Chapter 111: Chapter 98: The Genius vs The Pro As I looked at Jalen Carter, the world seemed to slow. I activated my [Basketball Power System], and his stats filled my vision like a digital HUD. Every number, every attribute, was absurd. Not just pro-levelbeyond it. And yet, he was just fifteen. Name: Jalen Carter Height: 62" Age: 15 Team: Chicago Raptors (Pro Youth Division) Position: Point Guard Nickname: Flash ... Background: Jalen Carter isnt just a phenomhes the standard. Born with absurd talent and an obsessive work ethic, Jalen became a household name before he was old enough to drive. Hes played against pros in private runs and dominated nationally ranked high school seniors since he was 13. Scouts, coaches, and players alike speak of him in the same breath as generational names. Raised on the West Side of Chicago, Jalen learned to combine survival court instincts with disciplined fundamentals. Every move he makes is intentional. Every step, calculated. Hes not just flashyhes efficiently devastating. No wasted motion. No fear. Just pure, overwhelming control. [Core Attributes C All Above 20] (Note: 20 is considered peak pro. Jalen breaks that ceiling.) [Offensive Attributes] Shooting Accuracy: 23 Layup Skill: 24 Dunk Skill: 22 Dribbling Skill: 25 Passing Skill: 22 .... [Defensive Attributes] Defense: 21 Blocking Ability: 20 Steal Skill: 23 ... [Physical Attributes] Stamina: 24 Endurance: 22 Speed: 25 .... Signature Ability: "FLASH WORLD C Overclocked Tempo" Jalen manipulates the flow of the game in ways that feel unreal. When activated, Flash World causes the game to feel like its moving in slow motion for Jalenwhile his body operates at hyper-speed. Effects: ? Enhances entire teams timing, making passes and plays feel automatic. Opponents experience reaction delayhes always one decision ahead. Vision expands to cover full-court awareness. Boosts dribbling, passing, and speed to peak +5 levels during activation. "Damn," I muttered under my breath. "He really is built different." But I wasnt afraid. Because I wasnt the same benchwarmer from the start of the story. Ethan Albarado Level: Pro Upgrade Points (UP): 200 Shop Points (SP): 5000 ... Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes] Shooting Accuracy: 27 Layup Skill: 18 Dunk Skill: 16 Dribbling Skill: 26 Passing Skill: 17 ... [Defensive Attributes] Defense: 16 Blocking Ability: 15 Steal Skill: 18 ... [Physical Attributes] Stamina: 20 Endurance: 18 Speed: 20 .. Skills Basic Power Shot Basic Precision Pass Basic Dribble Magic Johnson Passing Vision (Advanced Level) Playmakers Vision (Pro Level) Elite Crossover Dribble (Pro Level) Sharpshooter Focus (Pro Level) Lockdown Defense (Pro Level) Clutch Performer (Pro Level) Ankle Breaker (Pro Level) Iron Will Stamina (Pro Level) Jordan Shooting Form (Advanced Level) Kobe Fadeaway (Advanced Level) Dennis Rodman Charge Taking (Advanced Level) LeBron James Momentum Saver (Advanced Level) Tim Duncan Stamina (Advanced Level) .... As I was thinking, Jalen asked suddenly, as he spinning the ball lazily on his finger. "What point it takes to win?" I blinked, snapping out of my analysis. "What?" "I said," he repeated, cool and composed, "How many points would this game end at?" I paused. "Oh. Uh, 10 points." Jalen nodded, smiling. "Ten points... hmm. Okay." Then vanished. FLASH! My body reacted on instinct. He was already by the three-point line, launching into a stepback crossover so smooth it looked like a video edit. I matched his pace, eyes reading his body language. Left pivot. Shoulder dip. Fake drive. I didnt bite. He smirked. "Good eyes." Then he exploded forward The moment Jalen whispered "Flash World", the court shiftedno, the world shifted. The sounds of sneakers squeaking and the crowd buzzing dulled to a murmur in my ears, as if muffled by a thick fog. Time itself bent. I could see the ball spinning in his hands, but the way he movedGod. It wasnt human. His foot tapped the hardwood, and in that heartbeat, he split to the left like a ghost phasing through dimensions. Most players, even elite ones, have a rhythma pattern your instincts can eventually map out. Jalen had none. He manufactured chaos with every dribble. I activated [Clutch Performer]my heart steadied, time slowed in my mind. Adrenaline surged but sharpened instead of clouding me. No panic. Just focus. [Playmakers Vision] activated. Lines appeared across the court like invisible wires only I could seetrajectories, body angles, his next three possible decisions. My mind processed them like a chess engine. But even then... he was faster. Jalen split behind his back, switching directions mid-air like his ankles had no bones. [Lockdown Defense] roared to life in my core, pulling my body like a magnet into the perfect defensive stance. I cut him off before he could drive baseline. His eyes flickered with surprise. Just for a second. "I see you," he muttered. Then he dropped the ball low and sliced through the pocket between my hip and hand with a one-foot gatherlike he was water, and I was just a rock trying to stop a stream. But I wasnt just a rock. I turned with him, keeping my chest square. Our feet tangled. Our shoulders clashed. And he launched into a scoop layup, arm stretched behind his head like a contortionist. I reacted with a lunge But the ball kissed the glass before my hand even got there. SWISH. "1-0." He jogged back, expression calm like he didnt just rewrite physics. I wiped sweat from my brow. "Hes... strong." But I smiled. Because now it was my turn. .. Vorpal Basket Sideline C Reactions Joshs jaw dropped. "Yo... what even was that move? I swear he just teleported." Evan leaned forward, gripping his knees. "Is this even fair? I blink and Jalens in a new spot." Louie watched intently. "But Ethan... hes keeping up." Ryan muttered, "Hes actually reading Flashs movements... Thats not normal. Thats insane." Lucas said nothing, but his fists clenched. (Ethan... Win this game) ... Back on the court I checked the ball at the top of the key. Jalen stood before me, crouched low, one foot forward like a predator stalking. "Lets see if the Genius can score," he teased. I didnt answer. I activated [Elite Crossover Dribble], fingers wrapping tight around the ball as my instincts and memory flowed into my limbs. Every dribble became a weapon. My body leaned left, pulled backthen exploded right. SNAP. He slid with me, nearly matching my burst. But I wasnt done. I faked a stepback and triggered [Ankle Breaker]. My foot planted. My hips turned just enough. His center of gravity overcommitted His knee buckled. He caught himself, barely, but he was a step behind. I spun through and went into my Kobe Fadeaway. The world fell silent. The arc was perfect. He leaptfull stretch, arm extended But the ball dropped clean. SWISH. "1-1." I held my follow-through. "Genius enough for you?" ... On the sideline, the Vorpal Basket bench erupted. Evan: "Yo, did you see that spin?! He cooked him!" Louie shouted: "That fadeaway was filthy!" Kai: "Bro just made Flash stumble! Ive never seen that happen!" Aiden White: "Its 1-1 and it already feels like a final..." Coonie eyes narrowed, muttering. "This isnt just a game anymore. Its a battlefield." Brandon Young: "No way. Ethans going toe-to-toe with a freak like that?" Jeremy: "We might actually have a shot..." They all leaned forward, eyes wide. ... Back on the court, we locked eyes again. Both of us smiling. 1-1 Jalens possession. He held the ball in his right hand, spinning it slightly with his fingertips as if feeling the rhythm of the court. Then he looked straight at me. "Youre really good... Seems like Noah was right," Jalen said, calm but with genuine respect in his tone. I let out a short breath, still focused but appreciative. "Youre good too. To think you were this strong..." Jalens eyes flickered with amusement. "I didnt see you on the court last year, when we played against your team. Where were you hiding?" I scoffed. "Well, thats because that fatass Coach Fred never subbed me in." He blinkedthen burst out laughing. "Ahahaha! So thats the reason I didnt see you!" His laughter echoed a bit across the court, but then his smile faded into something sharper. Serious. Focused. He looked directly into my eyes. "Well then..." He bounced the ball once. His stance shifted low. Eyes gleaming like lightning. "Shall we continue?" I nodded, stepping forward, heart steady. "Okay." Jalen exploded into motion again And Round 2 began. ... 1-1 The air around us tightened. Even the background noise of the courtthe squeak of shoes, the distant chatter of bench playersfaded into a blur. All I could see was Jalen. His eyes locked on mine. His body low. That ball... alive in his hands. He dribbled oncepatand the rhythm shifted. I activated [Elite Crossover Dribble] just in time to mirror him. My stance dropped, knees loose, hands active, heart calm. Jalen wasnt just playing basketball. He was dancing with time. FLASH WORLD: Reactivated. The world snapped into a different pace. Like watching film in slow motion while living in fast-forward. To everyone else, he was a blur. To me... he was a riddle mid-solve. He darted leftspeed: 25 I slid to cut him offspeed: 20 + Playmakers Vision prediction He stopped. I didnt overcommit. His head tilted slightly. "Heh. Youve got real instincts." He spun I anticipated itbarely. His back brushed my shoulder as he tried to fake a reverse drive, then snapped forward into a one-leg stepback at the free throw line. Midair. His form... perfect. But I saw the sliver of space between his fingers and the ball. Hed left it just a hair too open. I lunged. LeBron James Momentum Saver] + [Lockdown Defense] My body twisted mid-jump, hand extended SWAATT! I tipped the shotjust enough. The ball clanged off the rim. Hard. It bounced back And Jalen landed already moving. No pause. No frustration. Just focus. He snatched the rebound midair, curled around, and launched into a reverse pivot into the paint Pump fake. I didnt bite. Spin back left. I stayed grounded. Drop step. I blocked the angle. He grinned, rising up with a soft scoop layup on the right. But I exploded with Vertical + Ankle Breaker Anticipation SMACK! Palm met ball midair. Denied. The crowd of players at the sideline gasped audibly. Evan Cooper stood up. "He blocked Flash?!" Josh Turner grinned. "Yo... Ethans locked in like a freakin animal!" Lucas, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. (Hes adjusting while reacting... thats not just talent. Thats experience.) Brandon, sitting beside Ryan, muttered, "Ive never seen someone match Jalens tempo like that..." Back on the court The ball hit the floor and bounced toward the arc. I rushed in, grabbed it Jalen was already there. We both lungedhands on the ball. Bodies collided. But I planted my left foot, used [Iron Will Stamina] and ripped through his grip. I was off. Crossover. Behind the back. Side-step. He chased me, but [Sharpshooter Focus] + [Kobe Fadeaway] Midair. Over him. Shot fired SWISH! Nothing but net. The players behind us went quiet for a second. Then "WHOOOOOOO!!" Cheers erupted from the Vorpal Basket bench. I turned, sweat dripping, chest heaving. 2-1. Jalen... smiled. Not with arrogance. But with thrill. "Now were talking," he said. And I knew... This game had just begun. .. Score: 2 C 1 Jalen stood at the top of the key, shoulders rising and falling with calm breaths. The playful light in his eyes... was gone. What replaced it was focus. Sharp. Cold. Like a blade that had finally been drawn. He bounced the ball oncethudand the court shifted. I felt it. Everyone did. Even Evan muttered, "Wait... hes serious now." Jalens aura condensed, like the air itself respected his rhythm. He whispered, almost to himself"No more testing." FLASH WORLD My heart skipped. His first step blurred so fast, it felt like a frame skipped in reality. I activated [Lockdown Defense] instantly, pairing it with [Clutch Performer] and my reflex But it wasnt enough. Cross. Spin. Shift. Stop. Hezi. Drop. Each move wasnt just fastit was clean. Precise like it had been drawn in a lab and rehearsed a thousand times in his bones. His feet whispered against the court. My body tried to keep upbut even my instincts began to stagger. He moved like water No wasted motion. No hesitation. Just flow. And thenhe froze me. One hard jab to the left, a head fake, and a drop of his shoulder... I bit. He vanished to the right. Too late. He rose up at the three-point line Form: textbook. Balance: perfect. Timing: deadly. I leapt with everything But his release was lightning. SWISH. The net barely moved. 3 - 2. The court fell silent again. Jalen didnt celebrate. Didnt gloat. He just... stared at me. "Ive seen pros miss that shot," I admitted, breath short. He responded coolly, "Ive practiced it since I was six." His voice was quiet. Steady. But the weight behind it? Heavy. He dribbled the ball once and rolled it to me. "Your possession," he said. "But dont expect me to hold back anymore, Ethan." I caught it. Our eyes met again. And I smiled. Good. Lets see how far I go against someone like you. To be continue Chapter 112 - 99: The Genius vs The Pro (2) Chapter 112: Chapter 99: The Genius vs The Pro (2) Score: 3 C 2 Jalen in the lead. The ball was in my hands Firm. Solid. But somehow, it felt like it was burning. Across from me, Jalen stood with that same stillness Not relaxed. Not tense. Just ready. Like a panther waiting for the right moment to pounce. He didnt need to taunt me. Didnt need to speak. His silence was a message. Behind me, I could hear the faint scuff of shoes, the short breaths of my teammates watching from the sideline. Lucas Graves (#10)arms crossed, eyes sharp. His yellow eyes followed Jalens every movement. "Hes not even breaking a sweat." Evan Cooper (#9) leaned forward, whispering, "Ethans holding his own. He just needs one more opening." Josh Turner (#8) cracked his knuckles. "This feels like a damn anime fight. Is this even middle school anymore?" Ryan Taylor (#11) was silent, chewing his lip. While Brandon Young (#15) gripped his water bottle so tight the plastic groaned. Aiden White (#7) stood near the edge of the court. "Cmon Ethan... dont blink now." Even the usually loud Louie Gee Davas (#5) and the sassy Coonie Smith (#6) had gone quiet, eyes fixed, completely immersed. Jeremy Park (#42) nudged Kai Mendoza (#31). "Think you could beat that guy?" Kai smirked. "Nope. Im not suicidal." ... I took a breath. Focus. The court was silentagain. No birds. No voices. Just the distant buzz of wind slipping between trees. "Lets go again." My voice cut through the stillness. Jalen nodded. "Bring it." I dropped into stance, feeling the strain in my thighs. Three points to three. One shot. One mistake. Thats all it took. Then I moved. Left driveCrossoverBehind-the-back. He mirrored everything. Like I was his reflection. Low dribblespin. He didnt fall for it. He was gliding. Skating on instincts. I stepped into a pivot and tried a step-through, shoulder brushing his chest. Blocked. His feet were perfect. His center of gravity unshakable. I reset. Ball low. Elbow tight. Fake step-back. He reacted. A twitchmaybe half a second. I drove right, low and sharp, shoulder practically scraping the ground. Lane. Open for just a sliver of time. I planted. Rose. Mid-air. He jumpedarm extended. I twisted, ball under, then up Double clutch layupSWISH. Tie game. 3 - 3. ... Behind me, the bench erupted. Louie clenched his fist. "Lets go! Thats what Im talking about!" Lucas gave a sharp nod. Josh shouted, "Too cold, Ethan! TOO COLD!" Ryan was stunned. "Jalen actually got beat?" Even Brandon smiled. "Man... he floated that in." Aiden exhaled like hed been holding his breath the whole time. Jeremy muttered, "This is crazy..." .. Jalen caught the ball as it rolled toward him. He smiled. Not out of mockery. Out of appreciation. "That was clean." I wiped the sweat dripping down my cheek. "Youre not the only one who practices." He nodded slowly. "Heh... looks like I really cant slack off anymore." Then His aura changed. It wasnt a metaphor. You could feel it. The temperature didnt drop The pressure did. It felt like gravity narrowed around him. His body relaxed, but his presence got heavier. Like the air itself began to fold around his shoulders. Even Louie muttered, "Hes... compressing himself." FLASH WORLD Jalens aura compressed. Not like he was speeding up Like he was stepping into a different tempo entirely. Everything outside the court faded. Even the sound of wind quieted. All I could hear was the faint sound of his fingers tapping the ball. "Lets see how long you last in my world," he said, eyes locked in. I met his gaze. "Ill last long enough to win." Then Boom. He vanished. .... It wasnt teleportation. It was footwork. But so clean, so explosivemy eyes couldnt track the first step. I reacted instantly. [Lockdown Defense] My body moved on instinct. He reappeared on my right. Cross. I slid. Matched it. SpinStop. Shift. I stayed close. Chest tight to his side. Hands active. Hezi. Drop-step. I bit, barely. But the flow of itit wasnt random. It was like a language. Each move told a story, and I was reading a new dialect. His feet whispered. Not a sound. Not a skid. Just glide. My legs were burning. My lungs were fire. But I wasnt backing down. He froze. Jab left. Head fake. Drop shoulder. My knees twitched Too late. He vanished right. I spun to recover He was already rising. Three-point line. I jumped. But his timing was gold. SWISH. The net sang. 4 - 3. Jalen leads. .. No cheers. No claps. Even Team Vorpal stood stunned. Josh whispered, "Bro... that was..." Lucas finished, "perfection." Evan nodded grimly. "He didnt even blink." Aiden stepped forward. "This guy... hes like a damn ghost." I stared at Jalen. Still no gloating. No fist pump. No flex. He just looked at me. "Your possession," he said calmly, rolling the ball to my feet. "Show me what you got Ethan Albarado!! Score: 4 - 3. Jalen leads. The air inside the gym was heavy with tension. All eyes were on Ethan Albarado as he picked up the ball again, sweat sliding down his jawline, breath slow but determined. He stepped back to the top of the key. Ready. Focused. Then "CAPTAIN!!!" The voice tore through the stillness. Everyone turned. Jalen blinked, his head snapping toward the gym entrance. A single figure stood in the doorway Short, breathless, a messenger with urgency painted all over his face. A kid. Noah Davies. The teenage 16 years old student manager of the Chicago Raptors. He was panting, both hands on his knees. His curly hair was slightly messy, his glasses slipping down his nose. Jalen blinked, then smirked. "Hoh. Noah." Noah didnt even return the smile. Instead, he marched up to Jalen, pointing a finger directly at him . "Do you know how hard it is to find you?!" he shouted. His voice cracked slightly, but he didnt care. "Everyones been worried sick, you idiot!" Jalen rubbed the back of his head, chuckling. "Ahahahah... sorry, sorry." The players of Vorpal Basket stood frozen, unsure how to react. Lucas Graves narrowed his eyes. Josh Turner tilted his head. Evan Cooper scratched the side of his temple. Noahs eyes swept across the group. "(Vorpal Basket... so this is them.)" His gaze landed on Lucas Graves, who stood near the edge of the court, arms folded and expression icy. "(Thats Lucas Graves... the prodigy. The one who made headlines because of that one match against Orlando. The way he copies like hes reading a book... Monster.)" Then Noahs eyes shifted toward the boy holding the ball. Ethan Albarado. "(And thats Ethan Albarado... the genius. The way he played against Orlando... like a battlefield tactician. Calm. Calculated. Like he already knew the outcome.)" For a moment, the gym was filled with only the sound of Noahs breathing. Then, he turned back to Jalen. "Captain. We have to go. Everyones been searching for you. Its freaking 5:50 p.m. alreadyalmost six!" Jalen blinked again, then glanced at the high window. Sure enough, the sun was sinking behind the trees. He sighed, then looked at Ethan. "Guess thats my cue." Ethan stayed silent. He didnt drop the ball. He didnt relax. Jalen walked up, slowly, step by step, until he stood in front of him. "Lets finish this next time," he said, smiling. Then, Jalen raised his hand. Fist bump. Ethan hesitated Then met it. Tap. The unspoken sign of mutual respect. As Jalen turned and began walking toward Noah, Lucas called out. "Hey. Jalen." Jalen looked over his shoulder. Lucass yellow eyes were sharp, unreadable. "Next time... I want in." Jalen grinned. "Next time, Graves." .... The door closed behind Jalen and Noah. And the gym, once again, fell into silence. Until Evan muttered, "Did we just get a visit from an NBA-level prodigy... and his babysitter?" Josh laughed. "That was crazy. Did that even happen?" Lucas sighed smile "It happened." Ethan finally let out a long breath. The ball bounced once at his feet. The genius versus the pro. Its not over yet... .. Minutes later The echo of Jalens footsteps had long faded. What remained wasnt silence. It was something deeper. A stillness filled with awe. Realization. Purpose. The members of Vorpal Basket gathered near the benchtowels over shoulders, chests rising and falling with the aftershocks of adrenaline. The hardwood still echoed faintly beneath their sneakers. The air was thick with the warm musk of effortof battle. No one spoke right away. Ethan Albarado sat at the edge of the bench, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on the floor beneath him. His mind replayed everything. Every jab step. Every hesitation. Every mistake. 4 C 3. He lost. But for some reason... It didnt sting the way he thought it would. "Dude..." Josh Turner broke the silence, his voice a mix of disbelief and admiration. "That was insane. You were right there with him." Ryan Taylor crossed his arms, grunting in agreement. "Not just right there. You made Jalen work for every point." Brandon Young nodded slowly, eyes still wide. "Never thought Id see someone guard Flash and score on him. Same possession. Thats unreal." Evan Cooper leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "That wasnt pickup-mode Jalen. That was locked-in, MVP-mode Jalen. You stood in the storm, Ethan. You didnt even flinch." Still, Ethan didnt answer right away. Then He stood. His gaze remained steady, calm, honest. "I wasnt good enough," he said, voice even. "But I saw something." A figure stepped forward from the group. Lucas Graves. His expression unreadable. But his eyes Sharp. Focused. Almost glowing. "Yeah," Lucas said. "I saw it too." Ethan turned. For a brief moment, everything else faded. Just him. And Lucas. The prodigy. Lucass voice lowered, nearly a murmur, but every word hit like weight. "Jalen was seriously fighting you," he said. "You forced him to adjust. To grow. And thats the kind of opponent that makes someone stronger." Ethan tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "That supposed to be a compliment?" Lucass lips twitched. "A warning... That guy when I look at him... He is growing..." The team awkward chuckled. A small ripple of release. But Lucas didnt break eye contact. "I want the next match." Ethan nodded once. No hesitation. "Youll get it." The silence that followed wasnt awkward It was respect. Steel recognizing steel. Then Thump. Thump. THUMP-THUMP. Fast footsteps echoed from the far side of the gym. "ETHAN!!!" A boy burst out from behind the row of benchesshort, skinny, and brimming with chaotic energy. Messy brown hair bounced with every step. His oversized Vorpal Basket jersey flapped behind himnumber 5 stamped across the back in bold white. His bright eyes shimmered like twin headlights. Louie Gee Davas. 13 years old. Streetball prodigy. Self-proclaimed number-one fan of Ethan Albarado. He skidded to a halt, grinning from ear to ear. "Heh! Serves that guy right!" Louie declared, pointing a finger at the empty gym door where Jalen had exited. "You made him go serious. Cant believe he never did that with me when we played. Hmph." Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Did you score though?" Louie paused. Then mumbled, "Yeah..." then he shouted "Hey, thats not the point." The team laughed at Louie response And just like that, the heaviness lifted. But beneath the jokes and laughter, something had shifted in the air. Jalen had come and gone. And with him, a new benchmark had been set. To be continue Chapter 113 - 100: The Gap Between Us Chapter 113: Chapter 100: The Gap Between Us July 25, 2010 Oakridge Park C Late Afternoon The sun dipped low over the treetops, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement of the old basketball court tucked in the corner of Oakridge Park. The summer air was warm, tinged with the scent of grass and faint echoes of bouncing basketballs from a nearby half-court game. Charlotte Graves, 15 years old, captain of the Thunderhawks Middle School Basketball Team, stood near the metal bench with a water bottle in hand. Her short black hair clung slightly to her forehead, and her silver eyes reflected the amber hue of the sunset. She wasnt nervous. Not exactly. But it wasnt often she asked someone else for advice. Especially someone younger. Especially Ethan Albarado. Across from her, Ethan stood casually, arms folded, gaze sharp as always. His yellow hair glinted faintly in the light, his expression neutral but attentive. Charlotte took a breath. "Um, Ethan... about what I said back then..." Ethans eyes met hers. "Yeah. About your footwork. You wanted to know what method would help you move faster than you currently are, right?" Charlotte gave a quick nod, grateful that hed gotten straight to the point. No awkwardness. No misunderstanding. "Exactly," she said. "I feel like Im fast enough compared to most middle school players, but... when I saw Lucas training" she paused, frowning slightly, "I realized Im still a step behind him. And knowing my brother... hes only going to get faster." Ethan lowered his gaze for a moment, thoughtful. "Lucas isnt just fast. He reads momentum and cuts before the opponent even reacts. Thats not just speedits predictive movement. You cant match that with raw agility alone." Charlotte nodded again, this time slower. "So I need more than just foot drills." "You need to refine your explosion point," Ethan said, stepping onto the court. "Right now, youre relying on full strides. Thats great for open-court sprints, but inefficient in close space." He crouched slightly, mimicking a defensive stance. "You need sharper micro-adjustments in your hips and ankles. Think of it like... shifting gears in a sports car. Not full-on acceleration, but controlled bursts." Charlotte tilted her head, intrigued. "You saying I need to reprogram my muscle memory?" Ethan smirked faintly. "Pretty much. Ive seen your stancestable, but a bit wide when cutting left. You lose about half a second repositioning. Thats your gap." Charlotte narrowed her eyes, absorbing every word. "Then how do I fix it?" Ethan walked to the baseline and pointed. "Start with resistance band drills for lateral burst. Then mirror training. But not with conesuse a moving opponent. Someone unpredictable. Train your reaction time, not just your form." Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "That why you brought me here?" He shook his head. "You brought yourself. Im just giving you a direction." There was a moment of quiet between them. The wind brushed past, carrying the faint cheers from the nearby court. Charlotte finally broke the silence, voice lower. "Everyone keeps saying Im ahead of the pack... but lately, I dont want to be ahead of them." She looked at him directly. "I want to be right beside..." She thought (You and Lucas) Ethan didnt need to ask who. He simply said, "Then well start now." Charlotte blinked. "We?" Ethan stepped back, lowering into a defensive crouch again. "Try to get past me. No tricks. Just footwork." Charlottes silver eyes lit upserious now, like a fire had ignited behind them. "...Dont regret this, Genius." Ethan smiled faintly. "Wouldnt dare." And just like that Training began. No flirting. No tension. Just two young players sharpening steel. Because this wasnt about dating. This was about getting stronger. And Charlotte Graves wasnt planning on being anyones shadownot even her brothers. ... From behind the low branches of a tree near the bike racks, Lucas Graves stood with his hands in his hoodie pockets, his yellow eyes narrowed in quiet suspicion. He had followed his sisternot out of jealousy, of coursebut because Charlotte had been acting weird all day. Weird in the way she double-checked her shoes. Weird in the way she actually fixed her hair. Weird in the way she asked their mom if she looked "too sweaty for the park." For a moment, he thought the unthinkable. Wait... was she going on a date? He almost choked on his cereal when the thought crossed his mind earlier. So naturally, he trailed her here. And now... He watched as Charlotte lunged left, trying to break past Ethan Albarado, who quickly shifted, blocking her angle with sharp precision. Charlotte reset her stance, gritting her teeth. Ethan adjusted his feet. Calm. Calculated. Watching. Lucas narrowed his eyes further. "...Oh," he muttered . Not a date. Just two basketball maniacs obsessed with footwork and positioning. He let out a long sigh and leaned back against the tree. "Did She drag him out here just to train?" There was a flicker of pride in his voicemixed with just a hint of sibling annoyance. "She really doesnt know how to chill." Lucas watched a few more exchanges. Charlotte tried to bait Ethan with a quick hesitation dribblehe didnt fall for it. Then she shifted to her weak side, using a step-through. Ethan predicted it, countered immediately. Lucas tilted his head slightly, a quiet smirk forming. "Theyre both look good together" Then he turned and walked off, hands still tucked in his hoodie. No need to interrupt. They werent dating. They were just sharpening each other. In their own weird way. And honestly? Lucas respected that. As Lucas Graves wandered away from them, still thinking about Ethan and Charlottes insane training session. Then BUMP. He staggered back a step, nearly tripping. "Sor-" He stopped mid-sentence. The guy in front of him had sharp eyes, dyed brown hair parted cleanly, and a lean, defined frame built from years of training. A cooling towel hung around his neck, and earbuds (wired) dangled from his hand like hed just pulled them out a second ago. He wasnt local. His accent gave it away the moment he opened his mouth. "...You... youre Lucas Graves!" Lucas raised an eyebrow. He knew that voice. He knew that face. "Miho Park," Lucas said calmly. "Captain of the Eastgate Wildcats." Miho stared with intensity, like he was sizing him up in real time. "I knew it," Miho muttered, voice edged with obsession. Lucas tilted his head, unfazed. Miho didnt smile. He didnt laugh. "I watched your footage," Miho said, arms crossed. "Youre copycat on the court. No wasted motion. But youve never fought someone like me." Lucas blinked once. Then smirked. "You sound like someone whos still bitter over an unfinished game." That hit a nerve. Mihos eyes sharpened. "That game wasnt finished. Charlotte stopped it." Lucas shrugged. "Rules are rules." Miho stepped forward. "I dont care about the rules. I care about closure. I was going to win that game. Ethan knows it. He felt it." Lucas didnt flinch. "Ohh, is that so?" A pause. The two stood in silence, tension between them like a held breath. Not hostilebut charged. Miho finally scoffed, looking away. "Tch. Maybe you and I should have a game sometime. I want to know which of you is strongerEthan or the so-called Prodigy." Lucas didnt hesitate. His voice was steady. "If you cant beat me, then you cant beat Ethan." Mihos eyes narrowed, offense and pride mixing dangerously. "Arrogant f" "Captain!!" A voice cut through the tension like a whistle at the end of a quarter. Both turned. Jogging toward them with a slight bounce in his step was a lanky boy with light brown skin, curly hair tucked under a backward cap, and glasses slipping down his nose. In his hands: two melting cones of soft serve. Armi Hassuf. Eastgate Wildcats shooting guard. A stats geek. Tactician in training. Known for calculating player averages mid-conversation and overanalyzing missed shots for fun. Miho blinked. "Armi..." Armi slowed to a stop, handing Miho one of the cones. "I got your ice creamdouble mango swirl, like you asked." Then he noticed the other boy standing across from his captain. His eyes went wide behind his glasses. "Wait... youre Lucas Graves." Lucas gave a small nod. "Yeah." Armis jaw opened slightly. "The prodigy... real-time decision-making speed off the charts... reaction delay under 0.5 seconds..." Lucas scratched his cheek, unsure how to respond. Miho muttered, "Armi, stop." But Armi wasnt done. "I saw your tape against Orlando Hoops" Lucas said with sincere eyes. "Thank you" "Welcome," Miho muttered under his breath, licking his cone with visible frustration. Armi suddenly turned to Miho. "Wait. If youre challenging him, shouldnt we prep for" "Armi," Miho said flatly. "Eat your ice cream." Armi looked between the two of them, then took a cautious lick. Lucas turned to leave, but just before walking off, he glanced over his shoulder. "Miho," he said. Miho looked up. "When the time comes... dont bring that version of you. Bring the one who made Ethan fight seriously. Cause I want to fight you against your best version" Then he walked away. Armi blinked. "Wait, did he justwas that a compliment or a threat?" Miho watched Lucas disappear around the path curve. "...Both." .. Meanwhile... The sun dipped lower, casting a warm orange hue over the park court. The pavement radiated heat, but the two figures moving across it seemed unfazed. Ethan Albarado stood across from Charlotte Graves, who adjusted her stance for the fifth time in a row. "Again," Ethan said, voice calm but focused. Charlotte sighed, brushing short black strands of hair from her silver eyes. "Youre starting to sound like my coach." "Good," Ethan replied. "Because Im not here to go easy on you." She smirked. "Neither am I." She darted forwardone step, then a sudden pivot left. "Too wide," Ethan said immediately. Charlotte growled and reset her feet. "Try it again. Shift your weight before you plant. Youre relying too much on muscle memory and not enough on center balance. Youre explosive, Charlottebut that explosions wasted if youre half a beat behind your own footwork." Charlotte gave him a look. "You seriously analyze like that mid-game?" Ethan shrugged. "Its what lets me keep up with monsters like Jalen and Lucas." She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Again." This time, her steps were tighter. Sharper. She moved like a blade instead of a hammer. Ethan smiled faintly. "Now thats speed." They continued for another setfootwork drills, balance shifts, drive fakes, and pull-up motion breakdowns. Breathing heavier now, Charlotte leaned against the pole of the hoop, wiping her brow with her sleeve. "I didnt expect this much detail when I asked for help." "You asked how to be faster," Ethan replied, spinning the ball casually on one finger. "Speeds not about just moving. Its about moving smarter." Charlotte tilted her head. "Youre really a genius, like the rumors says" Ethan glanced at her. "Nah...Im just desperate to win." She blinked. Something about the way he said it wasnt arrogant. It was honest. Heavy. Like it carried something more than just competition. "I respect that," she said softly. .. Elsewhere, across the city... A worn-down half-court sat nestled between rusting fences and cracked concrete. It wasnt muchno nets, crooked backboard, faded linesbut it was home for Louie Gee Davas. Thirteen years old. Rookie of Vorpal Basket. And Ethan Albarados number one fan. A small crowd of street kids surrounded the court, their voices echoing through the alleys. Most were older, taller, and rough around the edgesbut they respected Louie. Not because of his uniform, but because he earned it hereon this court. Today, though, was different. He stood across from Jan, his best friend since forever. Jan was barefoot. Wearing worn-out shorts and a cracked tank top. He never had the money for a basketball academy. Never owned proper shoes. But his instincts? Raw. Dangerous. Fast. The kind of fast that came from survivingnot drills. They were already three games in. The air was thick with sweat and pride. Louie wiped blood from his lip, smirking. "Youre getting better," he said, chest heaving. Jan tilted his head, breathing hard. "No, youre different." Louie raised a brow. Jan stepped closer, eyes sharp. "Where did you learn that move? That step-back hesitation into the crossover... and your burst, manits not normal." Louies lips curled into a small grin. "From my mentor," he said proudly. "Ethan." Jan blinked. "Ethan Albarado? That guy you keep talking about." Louie nodded. "He showed me how to move with purpose. How to fake, bait, explode... how to read people. Ive been studying his footwork every day." Jan looked down at his hands, clenching them. "I dont have a mentor." The words sat between them like weight. Louie swallowed. "I know." Jans voice was quieter now. "I dont even have shoes." Louie looked at his friends bruised feet, silent for a moment. Then he pulled off his second pair of practice shoes from his bag and tossed them toward him. "Theyre a little worn," Louie said, "but they still grip. Dont let excuses hold you back." Jan caught the shoes, stunned. "Im not giving them to you for free though," Louie added, smirking. "Next gameyou try that hesitation crossover on me. Lets see if I trained you right." Jan chuckled, sliding them on. "Youre crazy." "Ethan taught me something else," Louie said, walking back to the top of the key. "Doesnt matter if youre rich or poor, small or big, what court you play onwhat matters is how much you want it." Jan took position opposite him, crouching into a stance. "...Then lets play like we both want it." The crowd slowly circled tighter, energy rising. And as the sun set, the two boys clashed againnot as rivals. But as brothers in the grind. To be continue Chapter 114 - 101: The Beginning after the End Chapter 114: Chapter 101: The Beginning after the End July 28, 2010 The sun hung high above Oak Hill Academy, casting shadows across the polished gym floor. The air inside was thick with tensionexpectation. This wasnt just another training session. This was the start of something much bigger. .. Team Vorpal Basket: Full Roster Lucas Graves (#10) C Shooting Forward Evan Cooper (#9) C Point Guard Josh Turner (#8) C Shooting Guard Ryan Taylor (#11) C Power Forward Brandon Young (#15) C Center Aiden White (#7) C Small Forward Bench Unit: Louie Gee Davas (#5) C Guard/Shooter Coonie Smith (#6) C Guard Jeremy Park (#42) C Forward Kai Mendoza (#31) C Guard/Forward And of course... the so-called head coach: Coach Fred Mason C The lazy, overweight, corrupt figurehead who barely lifted a finger unless there was food involved. Most teams followed their coachs orders. Not us. I make the plays. I build the rotations. Mason might hold the clipboard, but I hold the respect. We need him on paper to qualifynothing more. Now, were heading into the most critical part of the year: The Tournament System C National Middle School Championship Step 1: Local Trials C Qualifier Phase Every district. Every city. Every school team stepping onto the court with the same goalsurvive. Each district will host a local elimination trial. Top 2 teams from each district advance. Those 2 move on to the Division Cup. Lets do the math. 32 districts 2 teams = 64 teams advancing to the next stage. Thats Step 2: The Division Cup the regional bloodbath where only the elite survive. But thats still far ahead. Cause for Now? This was the beginning. The Local Trials. A single loss could end everything. WeVorpal Basketentered as one. Black-and-red warm-up jackets zipped halfway, shoes tied sharp, faces set. We werent flashy. We were focused. "Hey," Evan Cooper muttered beside me, hands in his pockets, "I think the dudes from Linwood Middle are already trying to size us up." I didnt look. "Let em." Josh Turner spun a ball on his finger, chewing gum like he was in a street game, not a sanctioned tournament. Brandon Young exhaled a deep breath behind us. "Im not nervous," he muttered to himself. "Just focused." Ryan Taylor clapped him on the back. "Good. Now stay that way, big man. We need you in the paint." Aiden White cracked his knuckles and adjusted his sleeves. "Man, this gym smells like stress and sweat." "Its war," I said quietly. "And this is our first battlefield." The bench unit followed a few steps behind us. Louie Gee Davas, younger than most of us at thirteen, was practically vibrating. He kept looking around at the other teamswide-eyed, jaw clenched. I slowed down and fell into step beside him. "Yo," I said. He blinked and looked up fast, like hed been caught dreaming. "Y-yeah?" "You good?" He nodded quickly, too quickly. "Im ready. Really. I trained yesterday. Did that step-back thing Ethan showed me. Hit like... three in a row. I think." I narrowed my eyes. "Today, youre gonna see what real pressure feels like." Louie swallowed hard, but his nod was steadier. "Im ready." He meant iteven if his fists were clenched a little too tight. We reached the benches. Other teams were scattered around the gym. Some still warming up. Others watching us from the far wall like we were invaders. We were in enemy territory, even if it was neutral ground. A referee passed by, clipboard in hand. "Vorpal Basket?" he asked. I nodded. "Thats us." "Your games first. Youre on Court A. Ten minutes until tip-off." I nodded again and turned to the squad. "You heard him." Coach Mason was sitting in the far corner, sipping from a giant soda, his belly rising and falling like a sack of dough. He wasnt even looking at us. He had nacho crumbs on his hoodie. Absolutely useless. But we needed his signature on the roster sheet to qualify. Thats it. Thats the only reason he was here. The rest? The plays, the adjustments, the timeouts? That was all me. I wasnt the captain by vote. I was captain because the others followed me. I turned back to the squad. "Alright. Listen up." Everyone circled. "First games against the Portsmouth Vultures." Josh groaned. "Man, those guys play like NFL linebackers." "Exactly," I said. "Theyre rough. Theyll try to bully you, especially under the rim. Brandon, Ryanlock it down in the paint. You see Darnell Fox coming in full speed, dont play hero. Plant. Draw the charge." Ryan smirked. "I live for that." "Evan," I continued, "youre our engine. Keep the tempo up. Dont let them slow us down. Their guards arent quick enough to chase." Evan gave a tight nod. "Copy." "Josh, Lucasspace the floor. Give Lucas some room to work." Josh gave me a salute. I looked at Louie. "If I call you in, I need you to shoot like youve got nothing to lose." Louie blinked. "YouYoure gonna call me in?" "Eventually," I said. "Youve been training. Lets see if it paid off." He grinned so wide I thought his face would break. Kai Mendoza and Jeremy Park stood behind him, nodding in solidarity. Coonie Smith twirled his towel around his fingers. "Hey," he said, "no matter what, lets make sure we dont let Mason draw up any plays, alright?" Everyone laughed quietly. Even I cracked a smile. After that, I locked eyes with everyone "Lets move." I said my voice cut through the silence. No grand speech. Just clarity. This is where the story truly begins. One court at a time. .... Lucas Pov Lucas Graves C Jersey #10 Position: Shooting Forward Age: 14 This is it. The hardwood floor. The lights. The crowd murmuring in anticipation. It wasnt just a gameit was a test. A test of how far weve come since the last time we stepped on this court. Since that awful loss during a friendly scrimmage that haunted us for weeks. We were about to face our first opponent in the Local Trials: The Portsmouth Vultures Black and red jerseys. Every player looked like theyd been hitting weights since birth. Their captain? Darnell Fox C #0, a power-forward built like a truck and with a vertical like a springboard. He was rumored to be dunking since age 12. Their playstyle? Rough. Dirty when the refs werent looking. They didnt just try to win. They tried to humiliate. ... Starting Lineup Called. I step out, giving Evan a low five. Josh taps his chest and gives a nod. Brandon cracks his knuckles. Ryan grins. He loves brawling in the paint. Ref blows the whistle. Ball goes up. Game on. The ref tossed the ball into the air, and time felt like it slowed. Brandon leapt, his timing sharp, but not sharp enough. Tip-off lost. The orange blur fell into the Vultures point guards hands, and the game ignited. "Push it!" barked their coach. They didnt jog upthey exploded. I was already sliding into position, keeping eyes on #0Darnell Foxtheir monster of a power forward. He was built like a linebacker but moved like a sprinter. Ryan stepped up to meet him near the free-throw line, arms raised, feet ready. But Darnell didnt stop. He dropped his shoulder and threw his elbow into Ryans ribs. "Ugh!" Ryan staggered, just enough. Darnell rose. Layup. Easy. 0C2. The refs whistle? Silent. Typical. Coach Mason scratched his belly like he was waking up from a nap. I didnt even bother listening to whatever nonsense was about to come out of his mouth. Instead, I turned my eyes to the bench. To Ethan. He didnt flinch. He didnt blink. He wasnt yelling like some wannabe player coach trying to get attention. He was watching the court like it was a chessboard. Not a coach. A general . Cold. Focused. Strategizing. Thats why I respected him. He never treated us like throwaway rookies, like we didnt matter. Since he stepped up, everything shifted. The bench believed again. We werent "those loser team from Mouth of Wilson." We were Vorpal Basket now. We are reborn to something new. I inhaled through my nose. Time to answer back. ,,, Fast break. Evan leads the charge. Josh picked off a sloppy pass and kicked it up the court. Evan scooped it in stride, legs churning. I burst into motion on the left wing, slicing diagonally across the court. He saw me. His pass? Perfect. No spin, just clean velocity. Ball landed in my hands. One dribble. Two defenders rotated to me, fast. They think Im going all the way in? Pump fake. They both leave the floorbiting hard. My sneakers kiss the court as I stop. I rise. Follow-through smooth. Arc clean. Net whispers. 2C2. No roar from the crowdyet. Just the quiet tension of a tied score, reset. I scanned the court, silver eyes catching movement, flow, gaps. The game was young, but already, it had a rhythm. I could feel it humming in my blood like music. This... this is my tempo. ... Four minutes in. Score: 11C8, us. Josh was on firehit two clean threes from the corner. Evan was weaving in and out of defenders, carving lines like an artist on hardwood. Aiden even had a slick assist to Ryan. But the Vultures were relentless. They werent just playing basketballthey were throwing fists behind screens, tugging jerseys, stepping on shoes. Brandon took a forearm to the gut under the basketno call. Ryan got smacked across the wrist mid-jumper. Nothing. The refs kept swallowing their whistles. My fists clenched as I watched Brandon rub his ribs. If the refs wont protect us... then we protect each other. Next play, I saw it happening again. Darnell Fox caught the ball near the elbow, and his eyes turned into headlightsgunning toward the rim. Not again. I planted my feet near the paint, arms wide, heart thudding. He came barreling. I didnt move. BOOM. His shoulder slammed into my chest like a car crash. I hit the floor. Refs whistlefinally. "Charge!" Crowd gasped. Their coach shouted. Darnell scoffed as he turned. But when our eyes met, he didnt look amused. He looked... acknowledging. He knew. I wasnt just another skinny forward in his way. I was here to fight. ... Timeout. We huddled near the bench. Coach Mason opened a bag of chips. Great. But then Ethan stepped forward, voice low. "Theyre baiting us," he said. "Trying to drag us into a street fight." We listened. "Dont give them that satisfaction. Let your game speak." I nodded, jaw tight. Then he looked me dead in the eyes. "Lucas... its time to show them why you matter. Show your game" That settled in my chest like fire. Not pride. Not arrogance. Conviction. I gave a nod. "Got it." Eyes locked in. Tunnel vision. Just me, the court, and the rhythm I was starting to control. ... Next play. Evan faked a handoff, slashed toward the middle. The defense collapsed. I rotated to the left wing. Open. He saw meagain. Passed. I rose. Three. My hands knew what to do. Balance, eyes, elbow, follow-through. Splash. 14C8. My heart slowed. My breath steadied. My game. I glanced at Ethan again. He smirkedbut only slightly. He already knew. The rest of the quarter played like a battle. Elbows. Scraps. Hustles for loose balls. We didnt win every momentbut we made every moment count. Buzz. End of 1st Quarter. Vorpal Basket C 19. Portsmouth Vultures C 14. ,, 3RD POV As Josh jogged to the bench, gasping. Coach said something, but againit was just a background noise. Because someone stood up from the bench. Someone who have done analyzing the game Ethan Albarado. He tightened his shoelaces with purpose. Not like a kid stepping onto the court. Like a soldier entering a battlefield. Lucas looked across the court, still dripping sweat, breath ragged. Their eyes met. Connection. Instant. No words. Just history. Pain. Sacrifice. Determination. They had been through things. Things no scoreboard could measure. But that didnt matter anymore. Because the second quarter was about to start. And Ethan was entering the game. Lucas exhaled sharply and cracked his knuckles again. Portsmouth Vultures howled louder now, their trash talk spitting fire. But there was a shift. A tremor beneath their confidence. Because this wasnt the same Vorpal Basket they elbowed around in the first. Not anymore. Ethan stepped onto the court. His sneakers kissed the hardwood with soft precision. Lucas met him at half-court. They stood shoulder to shoulder now. Darnell Fox snarled something under his breathsomething about crushing them. About breaking them. But neither flinched. They didnt look at Darnell. They looked at each other. And in perfect unison, without even planning it, they both said: "WE ARE VORPAL BASKET!" The gym roared. The End of Part 1. Chapter 115 - 102: Second Quarter Chapter 115: Chapter 102: Second Quarter The buzzer echoed. Second quarterno more waiting. I walked to the scorers table as the ref nodded. "Sub in." The gym buzzed with energy. Trash talk flew from the Portsmouth Vultures bench, but I didnt hear it. My eyes scanned the floor. Lucas Graves C SF (#10) Evan Cooper C PG (#9) Me, Ethan Albarado C G/F (#1) Ryan Taylor C PF (#11) Brandon Young C C (#15) Scoreboard glared: Vorpal Basket 19, Portsmouth Vultures 14. We led, but not enough. The game was still in the mudsloppy elbows, forced shots, playground pace. Not my kind of game. Thats why I stepped in. Not to match their energy. To control it. Ball inbounded. Their point guard took it up. Marcus Flynn. Lean kid. Smooth handles. Quick release. He looked like someone who spent more time hooping at cracked parks than practicing in gyms. Unpredictable. Flashy. Dangerous in the open floor. But Id been watching him the entire first quarter from the bench. Every fake. Every twitch. Every tell. He rocked the ball in his left hand, eyes scanning like he was playing chess. Thenpop!he hit me with a left hesitation, shoulder dipped like he was going full burst. I didnt flinch. He drove left. I mirrored the step. Low. Shoulders square. I moved like water down a canal, channeled but flowing. "Slide. Dont reach," I reminded myself. He pivoted, cut backball spun behind his backand dished it off to Darnell Fox. Big boy. Muscle tank. Hair in cornrows. Tried to play bully-ball all first quarter. Darnell caught the pass near the left elbow and faced up. "Move!" he barked at his teammates, waving them away. Isolation. He wanted to body Ryan again. Bad idea. Ryan was ready this timefeet planted early, weight low, arms wide. No hesitation. Darnell dropped a shoulder, tried to push insidethud!and bounced off. Ref let it play. Darnell had no lane. He kicked it to the corner. Their shooter rose. Quick catch. Quick release. Clank. Iron sang. The rebound tipped in the air. I rotated to helpbut Lucas had already read it. SNATCH. Ball in hand, he was off like a sprinter from blocks. I was right behind him. Fast break. Evan took the right wing, his strides long and low like a sprinter out the blocks. Brandon cut straight down the gut, hand raised earlyalready calling for a lob like he could feel the highlight forming before the pass even left. I trailed left, pacing myself, eyes locked on Lucas. He didnt hesitate. One bounce. "Go!" The ball skipped ahead, low and fast like it had a purpose. Evan snatched it mid-stride, perfect catch. Defense swarmedtwo collapsing on him like flies to sugar. "Wing!" I barked, lungs sharp. No look. No pause. He just flicked it over his shoulder like hed done it a hundred times in his sleep. (Ball. Mine.) Right into my palm. No adjustment needed. No wasted motion. I caught. Rose. (Eyes on the rim. Elbow in. Balance solid. Follow through) "SPLASH." Three. Clean. 25 feet out, and it barely touched the net. 22C14. The gym detonated. Our bench jumped up like wed won the game right there. Chairs scraped. Shoes stomped. Louie was halfway on the court already, swinging a towel. Coach Mason still had a chip in his hand but finally leaned forward like he forgot to chew. They inbounded fasttrying to catch us lazy in the celebration. Rookie mistake. I was already back. Marcus came down, head low, trying to shake Evan with a crossover into a spin. Didnt work. Evan mirrored him like a shadow with better shoes. Kick out. Darnell caught on the wing. He faked a handoff to the point, jabbed baseline. Quick step. Ryan bit. Darnell slipped bybarelyand jumped, extending under the rim for the reverse. (That might go.) Brandon dropped in from the weak side like a stormcloud. BOOM. BLOCK. Not a fingertip. Not a deflection. A rejection. Ball pinballed off the glass and skidded halfway to half-court. Louie jumped off the bench like someone got baptized. "YOOOO!" Even Coonie, quiet all game, was standing up, arms in the air. We scooped it. No time wasted. Next play, I took the rock up myself. Portsmouth had started switching everything now. Trying to survive. Too many shooters. Too many reads. (Theyre scrambling.) "Ghost Motion!" I called. Evan gave me a nod. Ryan set a ghost screen on the wing, never even making contactjust enough to bait the switch. I curled around, faked like I was going baseline, then burst back up to the top. Wide. Open. Evan hit me in stride. Seamless. (Perfect. Right in the pocket.) Pulled up. No dip. No hesitation. Release smooth like breath. "Splash." 25C14. The scoreboard lit red. We didnt smile. Not yet. We were cooking. ... Timeout C 2nd Quarter Vorpal Basket 25 C Portsmouth Vultures 14 The sharp CRACK of a clipboard slamming to the ground echoed off the walls like a gunshot. Plastic shattered. Papers exploded into the air like feathers from a burst pillow. But the gym? Unmoved. Numb to it. Portsmouths coach had thrown bigger tantrums before. At the far end of the court, his voice sliced through the buzz of the crowd: "Dont give that pretty boy space!" All heads turned. He was pointing. At Ethan. Darnell followed it up, stepping forward, voice harsh, jaw clenched. "He aint real! Hes just hot! Hell cool off!" But his eyes told a different story. They darted to the scoreboard, then back to Ethan. The barking was loud, but the fire? It was gone. (Theyre rattled.) Just flickers left. Flickers of doubt. Of worry. Meanwhile, Vorpals bench felt like another planet. No shouting. No barking. Just breath and heartbeat. Lucas sat with a towel draped over his shoulders, calmly sipping water, gaze locked on the court like he was studying a chess puzzle with pieces still in motion. Evan stretched out cross-legged on the floor, flexing his calves like he was prepping for yoga, not war. Coach Mason finally looked up from his half-eaten bag of sweet chili chips to mumble something under his breath. Crumbs clung to his stubble like stubborn snowflakes. Ethan ignored him. He walked straight to Lucas. "Were doing the combo," he said low, almost like it was a code. Lucas blinked. Once. The kind of blink that stored a thousand calculations. "You mean that one?" Ethan gave a subtle nod. Lucas didnt smile. Didnt react. Just took another sip and said, "Got it." Louie Gee Davas leaned forward on the bench, warm-up half-zipped, excitement burning behind his young eyes. "What about me, Ethan?" Ethan turned, taking in the bench: Louie, Kai, Coonie, Jeremyall of them watching, waiting. Kids caught between adrenaline and reverence. He stepped forward, crouched in front of them. "I told youthird quarter. Were giving the bench the run then." Louies lips pressed tight... then curled. "I cant wait." Ethan placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dont worry. Your turns coming next." Louie noddedonce, twicelike he couldnt keep it in. Then, with a fire only a kid his age could summon, he said, "Ill show you what I learned from you." Ethan grinned. "I cant wait for that." Thencue the sitcom moment. Coach Fred Mason cleared his throat dramatically, stepping in like hed misread the script. "Ahem... yeah, Louiell sub in third quarter!" He gave a nervous chuckle. "I was the one who said that, right, Ethan?" Ethan slowly turned his head. Stared. Then let out a sigh. Long. Heavy. Full of secondhand embarrassment. "...Okay." Behind him, Coonie whispered just low enough. "What a pig..." Coach Fred spun like someone had jabbed him. "What did you say?" Coonie blinked, deadpan. "Nothing." Then came the buzzer. Loud. Demanding. Timeout over. Everyone stood. Shoes squeaked. Sweat hit the floor. Ethan and Lucas walked out side by side, pace steady, eyes clear. Combo play? Locked. This wasnt just their court anymore. It was their stage. And they were ready to perform. .. Back to the Game The crowd quietedfor a single breath. That strange hush before a spark turns to fire. Then the whistle chirped. The ball was in play. The energy surged again, a heartbeat louder now. The court vibrated under sneakers, but at the top of the key, Ethan Albarado and Lucas Graves stood motionless. Shoulder to shoulder. Hands on their knees. Eyes locked in like twin snipers. Reading the Vultures defense. It was a 2-3 zone, aggressive, twitchy. Darnell Fox, the anchor in the paint, glared at them with predator eyes. He pounded his chest twice, loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise, grinning like a lion already tasting the kill. "Yall done with your cute timeouts?" No answer. Not from Ethan. Not from Lucas. Because they didnt need to. Their silence spoke louder. Ethan straightened first. His voice came out calm, clipped, a shade under a whisper. "Combo. Set Switch Veil." Lucass head tilted just enough to signal understanding. "Im ready." (Lets light this place up.) At the backcourt, Evan Cooper brought the ball across the timeline. His dribble was low, nearly kissing the woodtight, practiced, unhurried. His expression unreadable, like he was half-asleep. But every step, every bounce, was part of the illusion. He glanced Ethans way. No eye contact. Just a flick of his fingers. A small tap to his hip. (There it is.) Trigger. Like a detonated charge, Ethan moved. A blur slicing toward the right elbow, forcing Marcus Flynnone of the Vultures quicker defendersto shuffle fast to keep up. Lucas began to drift, slow, easy, curling toward the top of the arc as if preparing for a flare screen. Darnells eyes tracked him lazily. But thenLucas snapped. His slow arc dissolved into a razor-sharp baseline cut, slicing behind Ethan like a blade. (Theres the switch. The veil.) Ethan planted his left foot hard and spun, his shoulders turning just as Lucas passed behind him. Not a screen. Not a pick. Something else. Their shoulders brushed for a millisecond. No call. No foul. Just timing. Just trust. Lucas didnt even look. He didnt need to. And neither did Ethan. His left hand flicked the ball backward on a diagonal bounce. Low. Perfectly angled. Perfectly timed. A pass through fogbut he saw clearly. The ball reached Lucas in stride, exactly where it had to be. Right at the edge of the short corner. Lucas caught it, controlled it in one motionthen took a single dribble, hard and low, his footwork gliding inside the line. The defender tried to recover, but Lucas was already pulling up. A clean jump. Elevated. Compact form. Wrist snap. Swish. The net cracked like a whipso pure it sounded like paper tearing in a silent room. Bench rose. Crowd gasped. Vultures didnt even move. And from Ethans stance just outside the elbow, he exhaled. (Perfect. Lets keep dancing.) Lucas backpedaled, his face unreadablebut the fire in his eyes said everything. Combo Set: Executed. .. "LETS GO!" Josh Turner exploded from the bench like a firework, arms flailing. His feet barely touched the hardwood as he jumped, almost toppling Kai Mendoza in the process. Kai stumbled, catching his balance just in time, laughing. "Watch it, man!" Josh didnt even hear himhis eyes were wide, full of awe and adrenaline, locked onto the court like hed just witnessed a miracle. "YOOOO! DID YOU SEE THAT?!" Louie Gee Davas was already halfway on the court before someone yanked him back. He had both hands on Jeremy Parks jersey hoodie, shaking it violently like it owed him money. "BRO! DID YOUDID YOU SEE THE GHOST CUT?! THE VEIL?! THE FREAKIN PASS?!" Jeremy wobbled, his hood twisting around his neck, but he didnt protest. His eyes were just as glassy with wonder. Coonie Smith stood slow, calm, almost like the wind was the only thing moving him. He crossed his arms, gave a low, sharp whistle, and nodded once. "That was clean." No exaggeration. No shouting. Just truth. On the other side of the bench, Aiden White stared at the scoreboard, blinking. Once. Twice. His voice was soft, stunned. "That... wasnt in the playbook." Kai, still catching his breath from nearly being body-slammed by Josh, laughed and patted Aidens shoulder. "Nah. That was pure chemistry, bro." "Like twin soul-link kind of stuff." Aiden just shook his head slowly, trying to process what he saw. At the far end of the bench, almost in his own little world, Jeremy Park sat upright, hands clasped tightly between his knees, eyes glued to Ethan and Lucas like they were holy men delivering scripture. His whisper came out reverent. "Im learning. I swear Im learning everything from that." His legs bounced. Not out of nervesbut purpose. Hunger. And behind them all... Coach Fred Mason dropped his chip bag to the floor. Not dramatically. It just slipped from his hand. Crumbs scattered at his feet. He didnt notice. His eyes were widetoo wide. Like a man who had just seen fire bent to human will. The kind of look you give when something clicks. Or breaks. Or changes everything. Even the referee, standing near the sideline, let his whistle fall loosely between his fingers. His brows furrowed, lips parted slightly. Just a small shake of his head. A trace of a grin. Even he had to admit it. (Damn, that was cold.) To be continue Chapter 116 - 103: Lucas Graves The Prodigy” Chapter 116: Chapter 103: Lucas Graves The Prodigy Back on the court, Lucas Graves backpedaled slowly, eyes locked ahead, expression coldlike ice pulled from deep water. No smile. No arrogance. Just sharpened focus. Then he lifted one arm and pointed. Directly at Ethan Albarado. Across the lane, Ethan caught the signal. His response? A grinsmall, dangerous. The kind that meant he knew. He raised his hand and pointed right back, two fingers to his chest. "Again?" Lucas called out, voice carrying over the roaring crowd like a challenge. "Always," Ethan shot back, without pause. (He trusts me. Were not here to play. Were here to define something.) The gym, quiet only a heartbeat ago, began to pulse again. Confusion from the earlier play had melted into realizationand awe. The crowd was rising like a wave, row by row, as if they sensed something more was coming. Roars started to build. Cameras lifted. Chants formed on tongues. But the Vultures werent going down without a scream. Darnell Fox growled from the paint, lowered his shoulder, and tried again to bulldoze through Ryan, hungry for momentum. But Ryan didnt flinch. Feet wide. Elbows strong. Chest out. A wall. Darnell smacked into him with a loud thudbut Ryan held his ground, teeth grit like he was holding back a goddamn freight train. Evan Cooper blitzed in from the sidea blur, hands quick as snake strikesand nearly picked Darnells loose handle. The Vultures scrambled to recover. Shot clock: 5. A panic pass. A rushed sidestep into a wild, off-balance three. Clang. Off the rim. And thenBOOM. Brandon Young leapt like he had rockets in his calves. Two hands. Rebound ripped from mid-air like he was snatching thunder itself. Outlet pass. Instantly. Ethan caught it in full stride, already moving like hed known it was coming five seconds ago. Lucas Graves? He was gone. A blur down the sideline, jersey flapping behind him, cutting angles like a sprinter with murder in his veins. Two-on-one. One defender at the top of the arc, frozen like he saw a car crash unfolding. Poor kid. Ethan faked highone hard drive right. The defender lunged. But the ball was already gone. A no-look pass, fired behind-the-back at stomach heighta bullet that slipped through space like it belonged there. Lucas caught it mid-stride, his feet barely brushing the court. He spun off the gatherin the airleft hand rising smoothly, soft off the glass Kiss. Swish. BOOM. The gym exploded like a grenade had gone off in the bleachers. "OH MY GODHE DIDNT EVEN LOOK!" Jeremys scream cut through the chaos like a siren. Louie started to shoutbut halfway through his yell, he just choked on it and laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. Kai Mendoza pointed from the bench, nearly falling over. "Yall seeing this? THIS is our team?!" Coonie Smith had risen to his feet without realizing. His hands were curled, his breathing fast. Eyes locked on the court like he was watching prophecy unfold. "This... this is what basketballs supposed to feel like." Timeout. .... Timeout C Portsmouth Vultures Huddle Coach Ryland Hale slammed the clipboard down on the bench seat, the sound sharp as a gunshot. "What the hell was that?!" he barked, voice hoarse from yelling. His players staggered toward the huddle like they were returning from a war zone. Darnell Fox ripped off his headband and flung it to the floor, sweat dripping from his chin. "I had himhe flopped or something" "He didnt flop, man. You just ran into a damn brick wall." That was Rico Harrow, the shooting guard, rubbing his eyes, frustrated. "How are they everywhere at once?" Silas Green, their lanky small forward, dropped into the chair, arms draped over his knees. "We close the lane, they kick it out. We stretch, they backdoor. Its like they know what were doing before we do." Darnell growled, pacing in a tight circle like a caged animal. "Were bigger. Stronger. Were not supposed to be chasing ghosts." "Theyre just kids," someone muttered from the bench. But it didnt sound convincing. Coach Ryland stared at his clipboard, lips tight. No plays writtenhed abandoned the plan two possessions ago. He was watching a system collapse in real time. His star players were unraveling. His schemespicked apart like old wallpaper. He looked up. "Darnell, youre not the damn point guard. Youre forcing too much. Pass the rock. Rico, stop ball-watching. Silasstay low, cut off the baseline, stop letting that Graves kid dance through you like its fucking ballet." Darnell slammed the seat beside him. "Hes not even flashy, man! He just... disappears." Rico nodded slowly, like something just clicked. "Its not about the moves. Its like a rhythm. Like theyre playing jazz out there... and were still stuck reading sheet music." The bench went quiet. Coach Ryland leaned in, voice lower now. Measured. Focused. "Forget the score. Forget the crowd. Get ugly. Get physical. Make them bleed for every pass. No more help defense, man to man. We dont let them control it instead we make it a fistfight." "You sure?" Marcus Flynn asked, eyes narrowing. "If they start slipping through that..." Rylands jaw clenched. "Then we grab em. Let the ref blow the whistle. Id rather foul out than get embarrassed." Silence. Then, Darnell nodded. "Lets make em hate this game." Timeout ended. The Vultures stood. Not confidentbut angry. Tight-jawed. Coiled. They werent trying to win pretty anymore. They were about to drag the game into the mud. But in the corner of the bench, unnoticed, Vultures freshman bench guard Jamie Lin sat quietly. Palms sweating. Watching Lucas and Ethan high-five under the scoreboard. He didnt say anything aloud. But in his head, he whispered: (Were not gonna stop that... not unless something changes.) .. Meanwhile, Ethan and Lucas? No celebration. No jumping, no trash talk. Just a subtle chest bump. Thud. Firm. They turnedno hurryshoulders squared, walking back to their bench like kings in control. "Thats six points," Lucas muttered, wiping sweat with his forearm. Ethan gave him a glance. A grin broke out again. "Lets double it." They didnt look back. The bench had already erupted. Josh Turner slapped Ethan on the back like he was trying to make a drum beat out of it. "You two just rewrote streetball physics." Aiden White, more composed, nodded at Lucas. "That backdoor read? Perfect timing. Surgical." Coonie tossed a towel toward Lucas with one hand and smirked. "Yall dont need stats. You need a highlight reel and a contract." Jeremy, who hadnt sat down since the fast break started, tapped Louie on the shoulder. His eyes were wide. "You ready, bro?" Louie didnt take his eyes off Ethan. His voice was quiet. Honest. "When I go in... Im running that combo too. One day." Ethan, mid-drink, turned his head. He heard it. His eyes locked on Louie. No smirk. Just truth. "Then study it nowcause youll be the one leading it soon." Louie blinked. And nodded. Hard. .. Whistle. Timeout ends. The players broke from their huddles, jogging back onto the courtbut the difference was stark. Vorpal moved like fire. Loose, flowing, hot. The Vultures moved like iron. Heavy. Dragging. Clashing. Marcus Flynn walked to the sideline for the inbound. His fingers flexedtwicelike a pianist preparing for a solo. Sweat trailed from his temple down his jaw, but his eyes? Lasered in. (Control. Im the head. They move how I move.) The inbound came. Marcus snatched it, snapped it low oncetight, almost invisible. He walked it up the court. A rhythmic stutter in his dribble. Shoulders square. Ethan stepped into position near the archands low, knees bent, watching the hips. Marcus gave a hard jab left. No reaction. So he dropped his center of gravity and launched forwarda quick, violent burst inside the three-point line. Ryan moved to cut off the lane. But no help this time. Marcus elevated his eyesnot his arms. Pump-fake. Ryan froze for a millisecond. And that was all it took. Drop pass. Darnell. Big man caught it like it was meant to be there. One step. Two. UP. BOOM. "YEAAAAHHH!" Darnell slammed it through with two fists and roared, slapping his chest three times. His teammates pumped their fists. 34C16. But Vorpal? They didnt blink. Evan already had the ball. Ethan was turning. Lucas was halfway up the court. Like it was choreographed. Evans fingers flicked. Long bounce pass to Ethan, who caught it on the move. Ethan flashed a quick hand signal back at him. Two fingers, side chop. "C-Shift." He mouthed. Lucas curled across the top of the key, brushing off Ryan like a ghost screen. Silas got snagged trying to navigate ithesitated. Ryan slipped toward the cornereyes wide, but he was a decoy. Ethan received the pass and drove hard to the center. Rico stepped up. Too late. WHACK. "FOUL! Number 5!" "WHAT?!" Rico exploded, arms wide. "He just gets to fly untouched now?! Thats basketball?!" The referees jaw tightened. "Sit down before you make it worse." Ethan didnt flinch. He walked silently to the free-throw linelike it was a business trip. The crowd behind him grew louder. Students stomping. Boom. Boom. Boom. "VOOOR-PAAAL!" Dribble. Spin. Exhale. Swish. 35C16. Second shotoff the back iron. Darnell leapt. But Ryan was already therelow, solid, elbows out. Boxed him out like a pro. Tip. Ethan tracked it. Caught. Pivoted. Marcus yelled, "SWITCH!"but they were late. Ethan kicked it to Lucas on the right wing. Back to the basket. 17 feet out. Lucas felt the space. Turned slow. Spin. Fade. Wrist snap. Silas lunged with a hand upbut air was the only thing he touched. Swish. 37C16. Coach Ryland Hale slammed his hand against the scorers table. "STAY ATTACHED, DAMN IT!" Marcus looked over his shoulder as he grabbed the ball. Eyes burning. He whipped around to his team. "HORNS DOUBLE. GO!" Flynn crossed half court and snapped his fingers. Double high screens cameDarnell and Silas both flaring out. He curled around the right screenLucas switched on him. Now it was just the two of them. Lucas mirrored every hesitation. Every twitch. Every jab. Like a reflection in glass. "Move!" Flynn yelled, frustrated. Darnell slipped to the free-throw line. Dump pass. Caught. Pump-fake. Jump. BUT ETHAN. ROTATION. TIMING. PERFECT. SMACK! BLOCKED. Gasps. A half-second of stunned silence. Louie jumped up. "ETHAN!!!" The ball bounced loose. Lucas snatched it and bolted down the sidelinelong strides, low dribble. Marcus slid over to cut him off. Lucas wrapped the ball behind his backchanged direction. Hard bump. WHISTLE. FOUL. "TIGHTEN UP!" Coach Ryland barked from the sideline. "If were fouling, FOUL RIGHT!" Marcus stood there, hands on hips, chest heaving. Lucas walked past him, calm. Marcus locked eyes with him. "Youre not better than me." He hissed under his breath. Lucas smiledjust barely. "Then prove it without fouling." Then Scoreboard blinked bright above the chaos: Vorpal Basket C 37 Portsmouth Vultures C 16 This wasnt momentum anymore. It was a landslide. A shift so big, so deep, it broke the hinges off the game itself. And the chants? No one was yelling "Vultures." Not anymore. The echo in the gym was just one word now: "VORPAL!" To be continue Chapter 117 - 104: End of 2nd quarter Chapter 117: Chapter 104: End of 2nd quarter Marcus locked eyes with him. "Youre not better than me." His voice was low, dangerous, half-spit, half-confession. The kind of line you threw when ego got bruised, and blood started boiling. Lucas smiled, just a sliver. Barely enough to be seen. "Then prove it without fouling." The words hung in the air like smoke. Sharp. Unfiltered. Cutting right into the nerve. A tension rippled across the court. Like the floor might snap. The referee handed Lucas the ball on the sideline. 2:40 left. Second quarter. 37C16. The crowd quieted just enough to hear the squeak of shoes. Ryan Taylor, Vorpals power forward, stood at the left elbow, hands on his knees. Sweat rolled off his jaw as he glanced sideways at Lucas and Marcus, locked into their private war. (Theyre gonna kill each other at this pace...) Ryan thought grimly. He adjusted his stance. His fingers twitched. (Were up, but were not in control.) Across from him, Evan Cooper their point guard, bounced on his heels just past the arc. His eyes shifted between the two like a pendulum. Between Lucass calm... and Marcuss barely restrained fury. (This aint about points anymore...) Evan realized. (This is pride. This is proving whos him.) He blew out a breath and wiped his palms on his shorts. (We gotta back Lucas and Ethan before this explodes.) At center, Brandon Young watched the interaction with a clenched jaw. He stood a few feet inside the paint, body leaned forward, arms half-raised. Ready to protect the rim. Ready to crash a body if he had to. (Theyre not letting us breathe.) Brandon thought. (But Lucas just keeps dragging their attention.) (If this turns into a shootout between that Marcus guy and Lucas, we better make damn sure who wins.) The referees whistle pierced the tension. Play resumed. Lucas inbounded to Evan. The smaller guard pivoted and took off, barking a coded call. "Cross Dice, loop it!" Ethan sprinted the baseline. Brandon sealed the paint. Ryan shifted toward the left corner. Everything moved in motionbut Lucas? He just watched Marcus. Like he was waiting. Marcus didnt flinch. He stood tall. Still. Ready. And then Lucas made his move. He darted up from the wing to the top of the arc. Evan read it immediately and handed the ball offa clean dribble hand-off. Lucas caught. And Marcus pounced. Isolation. The crowd buzzedthey knew. This wasnt just a regular possession. It was personal. Lucas jabbed left. Marcus mirrored. Lucas hesitatedfloated the ball from right hand to left, crouched lower. Marcus matched him inch for inch. (You think youre me?) Marcuss eyes narrowed. (You think you can fake what Ive built with talent?) Lucass right foot snapped forward. Marcus slid too much. Lucas dragged it back. Split-second recoil. Crossover. Inside-out. Spin. He slithered through a microscopic gap, brushing shouldersand Marcus reached again. Contact. WHISTLE. "Foulnumber 6, two shots." "DAMN IT!" Marcus barked, slamming his hands against his shorts. Coach Ryland Hale turned in a storm, fists clenched. "Stop reaching! Use your damn body! Hes baiting youSTOP TAKING IT!" Lucas walked to the line without a word. Ryan stepped in, clapping once behind him. "Yo," he muttered low. "You good?" Lucas gave a tiny nod. His hands were steady as he took the ball. "Yeah. Let him get mad. Hell break himself." Ryan tilted his head. (Thats dangerous confidence... or something deeper.) Ethan walked over too, crouched beside him for a second. "Wanna trap him next time? Force the ball out?" he whispered. Lucas didnt look over. He just stared at the rim. "No. Not yet." He spun the ball once. Dribble. Bend. Release Swish. 38C16. The crowd murmured. One more. Dribble. Focus. Release Swish. 39C16. The lead ballooned. But it wasnt just the score. It was the pressure. Marcus took the inbound. He pushed it hard this time, jaw tight, shoulders squared like armor. He didnt even call a playhe dared his teammates to keep up. At half court, Evan slid up. Ethan stepped over to switch. But was stopped by Lucas. "I got him," Lucas said. Ryan looked to the sidelinethen at Ethan. A silent question: (Do we let him keep going?) Ethan nodded. No hesitation. Brandon dropped back in the paint, voice ringing: "Talk on the cut! Help if he beats him clean!" But Marcus didnt cut. He charged. Straight into Lucas. Head down. Muscle-first. Lucas slid back, absorbed the bump. Kept moving. Marcus stopped. Stepback. Pull-up three. High arc. CLANG. Back iron. Brandon boxed out and soaredgrabbing the rebound with one hand like a pro. He looked up. Lucas was already streaking down the sideline again. (Hes not done yet...) Ryan sprinted ahead, knowing what came next. Brandon fired the outlet. Lucas caught it in stride. One dribble. Two. Marcus scrambled to recover. Evan flew to the left corner. Ryan to the right. Defenders collapsed. Lucas rose. Mid-air pause. Double clutch. Off the glass AND IN. 41C16. .. Timeout. Vultures. The buzzer snapped like a whip. Coach Hale didnt even wait for the refshe stormed onto the court, calling for his team like he was dragging them out of a burning building. Marcus Flynn kicked at a towel as he walked toward the huddle, jaw clenched tight, sweat streaking down his temples. Silas Green followed behind, towering, quiet, fists balled. And then there was Darnell Fox. The ace. Number 0. Unbothered. He walked with his usual relaxed gait, chewing gum like the game was background noise. His eyes flicked up to the scoreboard41C16. He didnt say a word. On the bench, the Vultures freshman guard Jamie Lin stood up, notebook still open on his lap, eyes sharp beneath his mop of black hair. His fingers tapped a rhythm against the cover. Not nervous. Focused. He looked over at Coach Hale "Coach," Jamie said calmly, voice firm enough to slice the fog of tension, "Ive got a plan." The coach blinked. "You sure, Lin? Youre going in this time? I thought you star" Jamie cut him off with a respectful wave. "Dont worry. I still wont play in this second quarter." Coach narrowed his eyes. "Then what the hell are you telling me this for?" Jamie snapped the notebook shut and stepped closer. Darnell arched an eyebrow. Even Marcus looked up. Jamies voice droppedlow, controlled. "Because if we keep letting Marcus fall into Lucass rhythm, well lose before halftime. Hes not just baiting fouls. Hes unraveling us. Piece by piece." "And youve got an answer?" Darnell asked, skeptical. Jamie nodded. .... ... .. The buzzer sounded again. Timeout over. 2:00 left C Second Quarter. 41C16. They inbounded fast. Marcus didnt even glance at the scoreboard this time. He just sprinted ahead, jaw clenched. Rage was his compass now, not strategy. The ball hit his hands, and he drove past half court like he was trying to crash through the game itself. But this time, Ethan Albarado was watching more than just the ball. He trailed the play with cold, flickering eyes. (Hold on...) He didnt press. He didnt yell. He didnt even glance at the bench. Instead, Ethan drifted into a wide stance near the elbow, subtly glancing from Marcus Flynn... to Darnell Fox... to Silas Green to Anwar Pafur rotating into the high post. (Then Darnell slipped to the middle last possession.) (They ran HORNSdouble high.) (But no off-ball motion. One-dimensional.) His mind spun like a reel of film. (Its a set. But not tight.) Marcus dribbled hard rightLucas stayed with him. Darnell faked a slip againBrandon caught it early and edged up. Ryan slid to cover the weak side. Ethan narrowed his eyes. (Their counters are based on Lucas biting. But Lucas isnt reacting, hes mirroring.) Suddenly, Marcus fired a bullet pass to Silas Green in the post. Silas caught. Pumped. Brandon stayed groundedarms straight up. Silas fumbled the second gather. TAP. Ethan lungedstole the loose ball with surgeons hands. And froze. (No fast break.) He backed up, holding the ball like it was glass. The rest of Vorpal began to spread the floorbut Ethan didnt call anything yet. He waved them back down. "Wait." Lucas blinked at him. "E?" Ethan looked at the defensethen spoke quietly. "I need more data." Evan cocked an eyebrow. "What?" Ethan pointed toward Marcus. Then Silas. Then Darnell. (Their center just standing there the heck?) "(Somethings off. Theyre repeating patternsbut the spacing is wrong. Its like theyre trying to mimic a system they dont fully understand.)" Ryan approached, wiping his face. "Man, we got momentumlets just bury em." Ethan shook his head. "If they adjust at halftime, we need to know the backbone of their playbook now. Otherwise, were going in blind." Lucas stepped in. "You think theyre hiding something?" Ethans eyes were deadly calm. "No. I think theyre forcing something that doesnt fit." "Someone else made their plays. Marcus is just the executor." "And that means someone up there is watching." He glanced up at the private box seats where the tinted glass shimmered. (their gotta be something.) He turned back to the court. "Lets run Delay Motion. I want to see who panics when we dont attack immediately." Brandon grinned. "Youre evil." Ryan chuckled. "Im in." They reset. 1:20 left. Ethan brought the ball up slow. No flair. No show. Just steps. Each pass was surgical. Evan to Ryan. Ryan back to Ethan. Ethan down to Lucas. Lucas held it. Passed to Evan again. Like a pendulum swinging. Left to right. The defense shifted... slowly unraveling. Ethan watched every twitch. Darnell stepped late. Silas dropped too deep. (There. That hesitation forced them into zone principles.) (Theyre not drilled for man reads off a slow tempo.) One dribble. Thensnaphe whipped a no-look bullet to Ryan in the corner. WIDE. OPEN. Ryan squared up. Release SWAT! Rico, the shooting guard, soared in out of nowhere. Blocked. Already orchestrated... Jamie Lins voice echoed from the sideline like a war general calling the shot before it happened. Portsmouth Vultures. Anwar, who secured the rebound with ease. The Vultures had just stolen back the momentum, and the crowd roared like a wild animal freed from its cage. Jamie Lins eyes never left the court, watching as the defense collapsed around them. Hed known Anwar would be there, knew the timing of the pass would be too precise to let the shot go unchallenged. The entire play was a setupa trap waiting to spring. The Vultures had fallen into it. Marcus sprinted up the court, face set like granite, shoulders squared for the next battle. But the air around him felt different now. Every movement was calculated, every pivot and step designed to make him more dangerous. And yet, for the first time, he looked... uncertain. Ethans gaze flicked to the scoreboard1:00 left in the second quarter, 41C16. The lead was insurmountable, but Marcus wasnt done. His pride was a beast with its claws deep in the game now. And the Vultures, even as they slid into their counterattack, knew they had to stop him. Jamie Lins plan was working. The tempo had slowed, but it wasnt just the game that had changedit was the rhythm, the unspoken pressure now settling into Marcuss chest. As Marcus approached half-court, Ethan slid into his defensive stance like a predator closing in on its prey. Marcus eyes never left the ball, but there was a subtle shiftfear. Ethan grinned. He didnt move an inch. Marcus exploded, driving past Ethan with a powerful, relentless push. His body took on the shape of a battering ram, but Ethan didnt bite. He stayed with him, matching the fury in Marcuss eyes with a cool, clinical precision. The crowd was electric. They knew something was comingsomething big. WHAM! Marcus drove into the paint, using his shoulder to force past Ethan. For a moment, it looked like he might get a clean look at the basket. But then CRACK! Brandon exploded out of nowhere, locking Marcuss shot attempt with a perfect block. The ball bounced back into the air, a heartbeat suspended in time, before it was grabbed by Lucaswho had been waiting. Calculating. Watching. He ripped the ball out of the sky and took off down the court like a comet. 45 seconds left. The floor was his. The game was his. Marcuss body language told the storyhe was beaten, his legs heavy, the frustration evident in his every move. Ryan pushed to the left. Evan sprinted to the right. They were waiting for Lucas to find thembut Lucas didnt pass. Not yet. He saw the whole court, felt the rhythm of it all. Rico stumbled in pursuit, his defense more out of desperation than control. "Get back!" Darnell shouted, but it was too late. Lucas approached the arcstep-backand then, with a smooth fluidity that belied the pressure, he let the ball fly. The sound of the ball swishing through the net was like a symphony to the fans, and for just a moment, everything else faded. It was clean, it was perfect. Swish. 43C16. The lead ballooned. With 30 seconds remaining, the Vultures looked to run a final play, but it was too late. The timeouts, the substitutions, the playsthey all blurred into the hum of the buzzer. Coach Ryland Hale stared at the floor, lost in thought, while Coach Hale looked furious on the sideline. Silas Green stood, chest heaving, sweat streaming down his face. He had fought hardbut the battle felt lost. His eyes flicked up to the scoreboard again, but this time, there was no denying the truth: the game was slipping away. Ethan glanced at Lucas, a silent understanding passing between them. "One more stop." As the final seconds ticked down, it felt like the game was already decided. Marcus didnt even try to contest the final shot. It was the silence that echoed louder than any cheer or scream. The horn blared as the teams jogged off the court. End of 2nd Quarter: 43C16. The crowd was on its feet, the energy palpableVorpal Basket had set the tone, and the Vultures, for all their talk, were left scrambling. And Ethan? He wasnt finished yet. Wasnt finished analyzing cause when he does say your prayers. To be continue Chapter 118 - 105: The 3rd Quarter Chapter 118: Chapter 105: The 3rd Quarter The energy in the Vultures huddle was tensepalpable. Sweat dripped. Chests rose and fell. No one looked at the scoreboard anymore. It was already seared into their minds: 43C16. The starters sat on the bench, breathing hard, eyes low. Rico Harrow rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. "Were getting clamped," he muttered. "Every pass, every lanetheyre just... faster." Marcus Flynn, the point guard, leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Were not running the sets. And when we do, Darnells always double-teamed before he touches the paint." Silas Green said nothing. He just stared at the court, hands steepled in front of his face. His long limbs still twitching with frustration. "Efforts there," he said, voice low. "But... theyre dissecting us like its nothing." Darnell Fox punched the bench. "That Ethan guyhes not even their best player, and hes controlling the rhythm like a vet." Anwar Pafur, the center, wiped his face with a towel. "And Lucas? I thought he was just hype. But hes eating space, contesting clean, and that visionhes setting the table for everyone." Behind them, the bench players huddled together. Maco, Lino, Facar, and Troy whispered among themselves. "Yo," Maco said. "They really got us like this?" Troy folded his arms. "Didnt think wed be sitting in a blowout." Facar chewed on his mouthguard. "If Coach doesnt switch the tempo, were toast." Thats when he walked up. Calm, collected. No fear. Jamie Lin, the Vultures freshman guardquiet, calculating. The so-called secret weapon. He stood in front of them, arms crossed. "They pressured Darnell into isolation," Jamie said flatly. "Forced Marcus off the ball, baited Rico into bad shots. Everything went exactly the way Vorpal wanted." Maco raised an eyebrow. "You said our plan work?" Jamie nodded. "It did." He looked over to the court, eyes narrowing. "My strategy was." He paused, jaw tightening. "But..." he scoffed, glancing down. "My strategy didnt work how it used to because of Ethan Albarado. Tsk." Coach Ryland Hale stepped in, arms folded, face unreadable. "Jamie," he said. "Give it to me straight. Whats the probability we win this?" Jamie didnt hesitate. His voice was calm. Precise. "Fifty percent." The bench went quiet. Rico glanced up, brow furrowed. "Fifty? Were down almost thirty." Jamie looked at him, eyes sharp. "Because they havent seen me yet." ... The crowd was roaring, but inside the Vorpal Basket huddle, it was strangely quiet. The scoreboard still read 43C16, but Ethan Albarado wasnt relaxing. He had his eyes locked on the other side of the courton a particular freshman now tying his laces. Jamie Lin. The supposed secret weapon of the Portsmouth Vultures. The one the novel had mentioned during the first game of Lucas Graves in Turning Point. Ethan had read this moment beforeJamies entrance would change the pace of the game. That was how it was written. That was how it was supposed to go. But Ethan wasnt planning on following any script. He turned slowly to his teamthe ones who had fought tooth and nail to get this lead. Lucas stood silent, eyes cold and focused. Josh and Evan were hydrating, still locked into the rhythm of the game. Brandon sat hunched forward, arms resting on his knees, his chest heaving. He had played hard in the paint, contesting every rebound, setting brutal screens, defending two men at times. Ethan stepped forward. His presence was calmbut commanding. And first, he turned to the bench. His eyes landed on Louie Gee Davas. Number 5. His disciple. The prodigy from the streets. Louie was silent, head down, bouncing his knee slightly. You could feel the energy bubbling beneath the surface. Ethan walked up to him. "...Its about time," Ethan said. Louie looked up, those sharp eyes meeting Ethans without hesitation. "Your turn, Louie." There was no need for long words. No need for speeches. Just a simple exchange between a leader and his student. Louie stood, rolling his shoulders back. "Ill show what I can do," he said with a small grin. "You trained me for this." Ethan nodded once, his eyes full of trust. "Good. Ill be counting on that." Then, Ethan turned to the othersthe rest of the bench unit. Coonie Smith, lean and fast like a bullet. Quiet, but with that hidden confidence. Jeremy Park, number 42, broad-shouldered with a dependable rebounding touch. And Kai Mendoza, the hybrid guard/forward, explosive off the ball and a sneaky fast cutter. Ethan looked at all three of them in one sweep. "Im also counting on you three." They didnt say muchjust nodded, solemn and ready. This was their moment too. Then Ethan walked back toward the big man in the middle. Brandon Young. He had given everything in the first halfbattling on the boards, contesting every drive. And now, fatigue was starting to show. His eyes were a little slower. His shoulders slumped. Ethan reached into his shorts pocket and pulled something outa small capsule in a clear wrapper. He held it out. "Brandon... take this." Brandon looked at it, confused for a second. Then his eyes widened slightly. He took it gently, holding it up like it was some rare treasure. "...Is this the stamina pill your uncle created?" Brandon asked, whispering Ethan gave him a small smile and nodded. "I already gave it to you during practice. All of you know how it works." Everyone in the huddleeven the starters on the benchnodded slowly. Theyd experienced it before. The feeling. Brandon unwrapped it without hesitation and swallowed it dry. A few seconds passed. Then he exhaled through his noseeyes blinking wider. His muscles no longer ached. His fatigue faded. Like a new energy had entered his limbs and bloodstream. "...Every time I take this..." Brandon muttered. "It gives me chills." "Like I said back in the day," Ethan said firmly. "It taps into your reserves. It wont make you superhumanbut it makes you feel like you are. Enough to push back. And thats all we need." Brandon stood taller now. He rolled his shoulders. His fingers flexed. The fire in his eyes reignited. Ethan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Im counting on you," he said. "With Louie, and the rest of the bench." Brandon nodded, fire blazing inside him. Coach Fred Mason watched the exchange, arms crossed. He didnt ask questions. He had learned one thing this seasonwhen Ethan stepped forward, he brought results. Then the buzzer rang again. The official signaled. Coach Fred Mason turned to the referee. "Subs," he called out. "Four in." Louie, Coonie, Jeremy, Kai, and Brandon stepped toward the scorers table. As they checked in, the arena buzzed again. Not just with the crowdbut with curiosity. Why sub in a full bench unit now? With a lead like that? But Ethan knew why. Jamie Lin had just entered the court. He was jogging slowly to the top of the key, already commanding space like hed been there all game. And Ethan watched from the sideline, arms crossed. (By the way, this wasnt how it was supposed to go. In the original novel, Louie Gee Davas... never made it to this court. He died before thisa car accident, a senseless tragedy, the kind that hits a side character without explanation. A throwaway line buried deep in the pages. No glory. No goodbye. Just a name that vanished before the story even began. But now... Louie was jogging out onto the hardwood under the third quarter lights. Because of me.) As Ethan watched him, eyes distant for a moment, the noise of the gym fading out as the weight of the change hit him again. (I dont know why he lived.) (I dont know what I changed exactly...) (All I can say that this was where the next Chapter began.) .. Back to Court Louie jogged onto the floor and glanced over at Jamiealready measuring him. Jamie didnt return the look. He was focused on the ball, on the angles, on the tempo. But hed noticed Louie. Hed noticed all of them. They werent ordinary bench players. Something felt off. Jamies sharp instinctshis internal calculationswere already running. Why is the bench unit this calm? Why was that one guy smiling? Then suddenly the whistle blew. Louie took the inbound. Jamie approached slowly. Two mindstwo completely different philosophiesmet at the centerline. Jamie was pure calculation. He anticipated steps, broke down angles, and mapped plays like he was writing code. Louie? He didnt think in diagrams. He thought in beats. In rhythm. He dribbled like he was dancing, letting his hips guide his momentum, letting the sound of sneakers and breath fill the space between his mind and the floor. Crossoverfakehesilean. He didnt even try to blow past Jamie yet. He was just showing him the tempo. Jamie shifted, adjusting weight. Louie caught it. "Not bad," Louie muttered. "You havent scored yet," Jamie replied, deadpan. Louie grinned. "I aint trying to. Im just... warming up." He bounced the ball through his legs, turned his back briefly, and rotated out of the screen as Kai Mendoza slashed baseline. Kai caught the feed perfectly and scored the layup. The crowd erupted. The ball had just slid clean through the net from Kai Mendozas twisting layup off Louies assist. Louie didnt celebrate. He didnt fist-pump. He didnt shout. He just looked at Jamie, cool as ice, and gave a small shrug. "Beat one." Jamies eye twitchedbarely noticeable. But it was there. He read me that fast? Before he could analyze further, the ball was already being inbounded. Team Vultures moved fast. They werent going to let one basket dictate momentum. Marcus Flynn, their point guard, pushed the pace, slicing through the half-court line. But Coonie Smith was already waiting. Small but wiry, Coonie shadowed Marcuss steps with precision, his footwork aggressive but clean. He wasnt just matching Marcushe was mirroring him. Marcus tried to break through with a fast spin move. Bump. Coonies chest was right there. "Tsk," Marcus hissed. "Whats with this guy?" He passed out to Silas Green, their lanky forwardbut Jeremy Park closed the gap in a heartbeat. Jeremy had been quiet on the bench, but now his presence felt heavy. He was tall, but what made him dangerous was his core balance. Silas tried a long step into a euro moveJeremy didnt budge. Instead, he leaned in just enough to force an off-angle shot. Clang. Missed. Brandon Young grabbed the rebound easilyhis stamina fully restored thanks to Ethans earlier gift. "Lets run," Brandon grunted. He tossed it to Kai Mendoza, who immediately cut up the side with Louie trailing slightly behind. From the bench, Ethans eyes narrowed. Theyre keeping up. Now lets test something. ... Louie had the ball again at the top of the arc. Jamie set his stance, scanning for tells. But Louie didnt even hesitate this time. He broke left hard, then suddenly crossed behind his own back, shifting his weight backward just as Jamie lunged forward. It wasnt just a fakeit was a rhythm break. Jamie staggered. Louie stepped through and passed to Coonie, who caught the ball at the free throw line and pump faked instinctively. Troy, one of the Vultures backup forwards, bit on itjumped. Coonie dipped under and fed it low to Jeremy, who banked it in with a smooth touch. 4 bench points in a row. The crowd started buzzing louder. "Theyre moving like theyve practiced together for years." "Who even are these guys?" "Theyre bench players?!" Jamie backpedaled on the next play, thinking hard. *This isnt a bench lineup. This is a counter-formation." .. Team Vultures huddled briefly near the sideline on a free throw. Maco, one of the Vultures physical bench wings, leaned toward Jamie. "Theyre fast. That Kai kid plays like a pro." "I can take the big guyBrandon," Lino added, eyes scanning the lane. "Then focus," Jamie said curtly. "Theyre not normal backups. Dont let the tempo get out of your hands." Facar, a versatile defender, narrowed his eyes. "That Louie kids dangerous." Jamie nodded. "He reads defenders like code." Change teamed Subs all starters of Vultures .... ... Back on defense, the Vultures tried to switch more aggressively. Maco pressured Louie now, using his bulk to try and push him off his rhythm. But Louie smiled as if hed been waiting for this. "You strong," Louie muttered. "But strength dont matter if your feet dont listen." He jabbed hardthen spun the ball behind his back so fast Maco couldnt follow. Louie exploded into the lane Then lobbed it. Kai was already airborne. Slam. Alley-oop. The entire gym jumped up as Kai dunked it with authority. The bench for Vorpal exploded in cheersEvan, Josh, Ryan, and Lucas on their feet. "Lets gooo!" Even the coach had to smile a bit. But Ethan? Ethan was calm. Focused. He watched Louie. Watched how his disciple danced through the defense, slicing it apart without ever needing to score. Hes grown. To be continue Chapter 119 - 106: Louie the street Prodigy Chapter 119: Chapter 106: Louie the street Prodigy Score: Vorpal Basket 52 C Portsmouth Vultures 20 Time Remaining in 3rd Quarter: 4 minutes The gym was in a frenzy. Cheers exploded with every pass, every clean stop, every no-look assist that came from Louies hand. The bench unit of Vorpal wasnt just holding their groundthey were dominating. Fourteen unanswered points. The scoreboard glowed like a cruel joke to the Vultures. 52 to 20. Coach Ryland of the Vultures slammed the clipboard into his thigh and barked out a timeout. The air was thick with confusion. Vultures strategythe math, the plans, the matchupsall burned away like paper in a wildfire. Jamie Lin didnt walk to the benchhe stalked toward it, each step heavy with disbelief. He sat down, wiped sweat from his chin, and glanced up at the scoreboard again. 52C20. "Tsk... How can this have so much gap..." He lowered his head, staring at his knees, thoughts racing. (I thought my calculations were right. We had them. I accounted for Lucas Graves, Evan Cooper, even Ryan Taylor. I even analyzed the bench rotation. So why... why is this happening?) Jamies fingers tightened into fists. (Everything changed in the second quarter. All because of him...) His eyes shifted toward the bench across the court. There, sitting calmly, was Ethan Albarado. Arms crossed, eyes watching like a chess master who already knew the last move of the game. (Ethan Albarado... that guy... Hes the fucking variable.) Jamies jaw tightened. (And then that bench unit... Louie Gee. Coonie Smith. Kai Mendoza. Jeremy Park. They were supposed to be expendablefiller minutes. Not an elite formation with actual chemistry. Thats not how this team was in the original data.) He turned to his coach, voice low but heavy with frustration. "Coach Ryland..." Coach raised an eyebrow. "What?" Jamie leaned closer, whispering so only the coach could hear. "That Ethan kid... hes doing something behind the scenes. None of this makes sense unless you factor him in." Coach Ryland glanced across the court at Ethanthen back at Jamie. "You mean his strategy?" Jamie shook his head slowly. "No. I mean everything. Its like he knows whats coming before it happens" Its like he knows whats coming before it happens." Ryland scoffed. "So what, you think hes psychic?" Jamie didnt laugh. (Or maybe worse... Someone with foresight. And if thats true...) (Then this whole game... was never mine to control.) .. Meanwhile, on the Vorpal Basket sideline, the atmosphere was lightbut sharp. The energy that had fueled their momentum hadnt dipped for a second. Louie Gee Davas, glistening in sweat, jogged over to the bench during the timeout. His chest rose and fell, but his eyesthose sharp, street-hardened eyeswere glowing. Excitement, hunger, and a little mischief mixed in his gaze. He strolled past Ethan Albarado, giving him a slight nudge with his elbow and a cheeky smirk. "Streetball really can shake up the world, huh?" Ethan looked up, calm and knowing, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "Youre just getting started." Louie nodded with confidence, chest still heaving. "Good. Because I still got a lot more to show." But as Louie turned to grab his water bottle, his eyes locked with Lucas Graves, sitting further down the bench with a towel around his neck. Louie lifted one brow, his expression smugas if silently saying, Did you see that? Im catching up. Lucas didnt flinch. He grinned back, effortlessly composed, and teased: "Keep doing well, junior." Louie rolled his eyes and puffed his cheeks slightly. "Hmm!" But the corner of his lips curled up in a grin. That was Louies way of saying thanks. A few feet away, someone cleared their throat awkwardly. It was Coach Fred Masonthe fatass coach of Vorpal Basket. He pointed at Louie with an exaggerated nod and a finger that shook with the weight of authority he didnt really have. "I knew you had that potential! Always said it! Day one! Yep. I saw that street killer instinct in your eyes!" He tried to do a smooth finger-gun gesturebut his belly jiggled, and it looked more like a toddler mimicking a cowboy. From the side, Coonie Smith leaned toward Kai Mendoza and whispered under his breath. (Here he goes again... fatass Coach Mason.) Kai chuckled into his towel, trying not to burst out laughing. Jeremy Park added, smirking: "Bro only shows up when were winning." Coach Mason, blissfully unaware of the sarcasm surrounding him, kept rambling: "Louie! You remind me of a young me. Back in the day, I had the same handles. They used to call me Mason the Magician!" Louie squinted at him. "Whos they?" Coach froze, then looked away. "The streets, Louie. The streets." Ryan whispered to Ethan, "If Fred ever played on the streets, the court wouldve cracked under his warm-ups." Ethan laughed under his breath. But even with the humor and lightness, there was one thing none of them said out loudLouie had become something dangerous on the court. Not just flashy. Not just fast. He had presence. A rhythm that Jamie Lin couldnt compute. And as the timeout ended and the teams took the court again, all eyes were on the Prodigy from the streets... and what hed do next. .. The shrill buzz of the scoreboard echoed sharply through the gym like a battle cry. Timeout was over. The game was back on. From the bench, every pair of eyes fixed on the court. But one players name carried the weight of the moment: Louie Gee Davas. Louie didnt simply walk onto the courthe glided with purpose. Sweat dripped down his face, glistening under the bright gym lights, but his eyes were steady. They didnt belong to a nervous freshman or a rookie; they were sharp, intense, and burning with controlled chaos, the look of someone ready to take over the game. The crowd shifted in their seats, the air thickening with tension. It was the kind of silence that comes just before a storm, the kind of silence where people forget their snacks, lean forward, and clutch their hearts in anticipation. At the top of the key, Kai Mendoza, floor general of the Vorpal bench unit, took the inbound pass. Kai wasnt flashy or a high scorer, but he understood the games rhythm and tempo perfectly. Right now, he was the conductor, orchestrating the symphony that Louie was about to unleash. The ball found its way back to Louie, positioned on the wing. Jamie Lin, the defender, slid over quickly this time, lowering his stance and locking in tight. He wasnt underestimating Louie anymore. But Louie didnt even blink. One slow, deliberate dribble. Then Tap. Tap. Tap. Louies hands moved so fast they were almost a blur, like fireflies flickering in the night. The ball seemed to vanish and reappear between his fingertips as he executed his "ghost handles." Jamie flinched, caught off guard and Louie pounced on the opening. With a sharp crossover to the left, Louie baited Jamie into biting hard. Then, with a lightning spin to the right, Louie twisted his body, faking a behind-the-back pass. Troy Sharp, the vultures power forward, rotated over to help defense but it was already too late. Louie whipped the ball across his body with pinpoint precision to the corner of the court. Waiting there was Coonie Smith, their clutch shooter. He caught the ball smoothly in rhythm. Without hesitation, Coonie released the shot. Snap. SPLASH. Nothing but net. The gym erupted in a roar. The crowds cheers thundered through the bleachers, making them shake. ... VULTURES BENCH "Time to warm up, right?!" barked the Vultures coach, Coach Ryland, as he kicked over a water bottle. "Facar! Maco! Youre getting cooked by a freshman! DO something!" Facar, the backup shooting guard known for his midrange jumper, rubbed his temples. "Hes too fast, Coach... he moves like hes from another planet." Fox groaned, flexing his shoulders. "He aint even got muscle. Hes just... slippery." On the floor, Jamie Lin wiped his face, but his hand trembled slightly. ... VORPAL BENCH REACTION Back on the Vorpal side, the bench erupted. Ryan Taylor stood up and shouted, "Coonie! Eat em up, bro!!" Josh Turner high-fived Brandon Young, who had both fists clenched, veins popping. "This aint a game anymore. This is domination. We came in as loser, but look at us now." Lucas, narrowed his eyes as he watched Kai and Louie form triangle sets with Jeremy Park on the next play. "Theyre forming natural triangle reads. They dont even realize it, but the court spacing is perfect. This aint just luck. This is growth." And Ethan? He didnt say a word. He just watched, gaze unblinking. (Do it, Louie... run rampant. Let them feel the weight of despair.) (This is our story now. Let the world know the nameVorpal Basket.) .... Back to court. Jamie Lin caught the ball inbounded to him. His eyes scanned the court with the cold precision of a predator sizing up its prey. The gym thrummed with electricity as every spectator held their breath, watching the fresh battle between two bench units. Louie Gee Davas stood on the wing, cool and composed despite the pounding score that favored Vorpal Basket. Jamies sharp gaze locked onto Louie, noting the subtle twitch in his hands that trademark ghost handle dance that had left defenders sprawling. But Jamie wasnt fazed. Hed seen flashy moves before. What mattered now was calculation. With a low dribble, Jamie began his advance. His mind raced, running probabilities and angles faster than his body moved. Every step was measured, every movement designed to dismantle the rhythm Louie and his crew had built. He took a sudden burst of speed, breaking past Louies press with a quick jab step. Jeremy Park, the sturdy forward guarding the paint, shifted immediately, leaving his post vulnerable. Jamies eyes flicked sideways, and without hesitation, he passed out to Facar, sprinting down the wing. Facar cut sharply inside, forcing Brandon Young to leave his rim-protecting position. The court shifted like a chessboard, pieces moving and counter-moving. Ryan Taylor shouted from the sideline, "Watch the rotations! Dont let them collapse the paint!" Louie, momentarily thrown off by Jamies burst, snapped back into defensive mode. His feet churned as he sprinted after Facar, eyes blazing with determination. Meanwhile, Coonie Smith shadowed Troy, cutting off easy passing lanes with agile, tenacious defense. Jamie, feeling the pressure of Maco trapping Louie, executed a flawless no-look behind-the-back pass. The ball arced to Maco, the Vultures physical wing defender, who thundered toward the basket like a freight train. Jeremy squared off against Maco, muscles tensing as the two collided mid-lane. Maco powered forward, but Jeremys solid positioning forced the shot to bounce off the rim. Louie exploded up, grabbing the rebound with fierce tenacity. Without wasting a second, he flipped a quick outlet pass to Kai Mendoza, already sprinting in transition. The crowd roared as Kai weaved through defenders, eyes blazing with purpose. Jamie sprinted back, breath heavy, matching Kai stride for stride. Kai bounced once, then launched a high lob to Louie cutting along the baseline. Louie caught it mid-air and slammed down a thunderous dunk that shook the gyms rafters. ... On the sidelines, Aiden grinned wide, pumping his fist. "Yes!" Evan Cooper sat with crossed arms, a slow, impressed smile spreading across his face. "Jamies trying to contest, but Louies answering every challenge." Josh Turner leaned toward Brandon Young, whispering, "Bench or starters doesnt matter. This teams fire is real." Lucas said looking at Ethan "We are what we are today, thanks to Ethan" Ethan Albarado just remained still, eyes locked on Louie, his fingers hovering over his systems control panel. (Analyze...as every move counts.) Jamies jaw tightened as he ran mental calculations faster than ever. (Theyre fast, strong, coordinated... but patterns always reveal themselves. Now I just have to find their weakness.) To be continue Chapter 120 - 107: Jamie’s Plan Chapter 120: Chapter 107: Jamies Plan 3rd Quarter C 3:00 Minutes Left Score: 66C27, Vorpal Basket Leads The scoreboard glared down like a judge announcing a death sentence: 66 to 27. The gym, filled with cheers from Vorpal fans, seemed to mock the losing side with every dribble and dunk. On the Vultures bench, tension crackled like a live wire. Coach Ryland Hale slapped his clipboard against the bench, barely holding back the storm rising in his chest. "Motherfucker!!" he bellowed, startling the players nearby. His veins were bulging, jaw twitching as he glared at the scoreboard. Then his eyes locked onto Jamie Lin, the freshman calmly sitting with a towel on his lap, legs crossed, face unreadable. "You said you had a plan, Lin!" Coach growled. "Were down thirty-nine! You better start explaining how the hell this helps us!" Jamie slowly stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his shorts. His eyes were sharp, calculating, the eyes of someone who hadnt been idle during this storm. "I have a plan," Jamie said coolly. "But now its time to restart our engine. We need Darnell back in." Coach Hale blinked. "Darnell? He already played two quarters. You think putting him back now is gonna change things?" "Not think," Jamie replied, gaze cold and exact. "I know it will." Hes rested just enough. His aggression will reset their rhythm. Theyve gotten too comfortable. Now... its time to disrupt. At the end of the bench, a large shadow stirred. Darnell Fox had been hunched over, sipping water, his massive frame twitching with leftover adrenaline. His jersey number 0, clung to him like armor. His eyes lifted, meeting Jamies. "So," Darnell rumbled, "youre saying its time for round two?" Jamie nodded. "Now. They dont expect you to come back this soon. Use that." Darnell stood up slowly, cracking his neck side to side. The hardwood groaned under his weight. "Finally," he muttered. "Ive been itching to go back. I dont care about the score, I just want to hurt someone." His gaze drifted across the court toward the Vorpal sideline, eyes narrowing at Kai Mendoza, who had just finished a flashy dunk minutes ago. Then toward Ethan Albarado, quietly seated, towel around his shoulders, watching. "Especially that smug bastard," Darnell growled. "He thinks hes got this in the bag. Lets flip that script." ..... On Vorpal Baskets Bench The players were laughing and hyped after another fast break layup. Even Coach Mason looked at ease, sipping from his bottle. "Great run, boys," he said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just keep this pace and rotate clean. Weve got them." But something in the air shifted. A sudden silence fell. Louie Gee Davas turned his head and froze. Jeremy Park stood up slowly. Coonie Smith narrowed his eyes. Across the court, Vultures were sending someone back in. A familiar figure. "Wait... no way," Coonie said. "Isnt that...?" Ethan stood slowly. His eyes didnt blink. "Darnell Fox," he said softly. "Hes coming back in." Josh Turners voice cracked. "Didnt he already play the first two quarters? Isnt that dangerous?" Ethan didnt answer immediately. (In the novel, Darnell was pulled in the second half. But this time... Jamie kept him on a leash. Now hes letting it loose, exactly when our rhythm peaked. Damn it... he baited us.) "Its a trap," Ethan muttered. Kai Mendoza bounced on his feet, but when he saw the look in Ethans eyes, he paused. "Yo, you good?" Ethan gave him a tight nod. "We need to shift. Their momentums about to turn ugly." ..... Jamie stepped toward the coach and the rest of the lineup. His hands clasped behind his back like a general reviewing a battle map. "Keep your spacing clean. We use Darnell as a pivot. Give him early touches and let them collapse around him. When they hesitate we cut." Hes not just brute force now. Hes a fuse. And Im lighting it. Darnell had already taken a few warmup jogs, the hardwood echoing his return. He turned back briefly. "Jamie," he said, voice low but intense. "This time, dont hold me back." Jamie didnt blink. "I wont. This time, we finish it our way." As the buzzer sounded and the timeout ended, Darnell walked onto the court like a beast reclaimed eyes glowing with bloodlust, muscles tense like coiled steel. And Jamie Lin? He stood behind the bench, arms crossed, calculating every second. "Phase Two... begins now." .... The buzzer echoed across the gym like a warning bell. Darnell Fox stepped back onto the hardwood a living engine of violence and power. His every footstep thudded like thunder, his gaze cold, hungry. Ethan Albarado narrowed his eyes from the bench. (Damnit... they unleashed that bastard again.) He clenched his towel tightly, scanning the court and his team the starters still holding the line. Lucas Graves. Ryan Taylor. Evan Cooper. Josh Turner. Aiden White. Then his eyes flicked over to the bench. Louie Gee Davas. Kai Mendoza. Coonie Smith. Jeremy Park. They were steady for now, but he could feel it the shift. The rhythm theyd built was about to be broken. He stood up, tension pulling at his shoulders. "I still need time for my starters..." he muttered under his breath, trying to calculate. "Which one should I sub first...?" Before he could decide, a hand rose from the bench. Aiden White. The small forward stood up, face calm but eyes sharp. "Let me play, Ethan." Ethan blinked. "Are you sure? I mean, we only played you a little in the first quarter just in case your injur" "Im already healed," Aiden said firmly. "You know that. And besides... I dont want to play just a few minutes and vanish. I need this. Let me help." There was no hesitation in Aidens voice. No fear. Just resolve. Ethan studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright... Jeremy, sub out. Aiden, youre in." He turned toward the coaching box and pointed toward the sideline, calling out to the man whod been seated like a clueless tourist in a warzone. "You got that, Coach?" Fred Mason jumped as if hed just been shocked. His eyes darted around, stuttering. "Uhyeah, yeah, of course. I-I was just about to say that! You just, uh, beat me to it!" Ethan sighed. Were coaching ourselves at this point. As Aiden pulled off his warm-up shirt, muscles flexing beneath his jersey, he jogged toward the scorers table with a look of quiet fire. From across the court, Darnell Fox noticed. The two locked eyes for a brief second. No words exchanged just a promise. A clash coming soon. .. As the substitution buzzer rang, Aiden White stepped onto the court. The lights above seemed to sharpen on him, casting a soft sheen on his skin, still glistening from the warm-up. His strides were smooth but heavy, the way a predator walks when it knows its about to eat. Every movement was purposeful. Controlled. Jeremy Park jogged off, giving Aiden a slap on the back. "Keep it locked down," he said, short of breath, sweat dripping from his jawline. Aiden nodded. "Lets finish what you started." The bench unit was still holding the line: Louie Gee Davas at guard, Kai Mendoza as the slasher, Coonie Smith locking in on defense. Now, Aiden stepped in to solidify the wing. As Aiden slid into position on the wing, Coonie glanced at him, smirking. "Ready to get your hands dirty?" Aiden smirked back. "Born ready." On the sideline, Ethan Albarado sat forward, elbows planted on his knees, fingers laced so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes tracked the movement of every player but one figure stayed fixed in his vision: Darnell Fox. The monster. "(Hes pacing himself,)" Ethan thought. "(Waiting for the exact moment to break our rhythm. They brought him back to crush our second wind.)" Beside Ethan, is Lucas Graves who sat with arms crossed. His voice was low, almost drowned by the buzz of the crowd and the squeak of sneakers. "You look worried." Ethan didnt respond. Not right away. His jaw tightened. Across the court, Darnell stood like a monument, massive and grounded, eyes glowing with intent. Every breath he took felt like the slow draw of a hunter waiting for the scent to align. "They brought back their monster," Ethan finally said, his voice hard. "That alone changes the tempo." Lucas nodded. Slowly. His eyes didnt leave the court, but his words carried weight. "Yeah. But remember, Ethan..." "...you know us best." Ethan turned to look at him. "You trained us. Those phase drills we did the late-night sessions, the breakdowns, the simulated fourth quarters..." "We were losers before. Benchwarmers. Pieces no one knew how to fit." Lucas looked Ethan in the eye. Calm. Steady. "Then one day, you showed up... and changed us." Ethan felt his chest tighten, the words sinking deep. Lucas leaned back slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint grin. "You didnt just train us... You made us into basketball players." The sound of the crowd, the court, the echoing ball, it all faded for a moment in Ethans ears. No. Not just players. They became warriors. Because Ethan refused to give up on them. As Ethan hands relaxed. His breathing steadied. Then Ethans eyes narrowed again on the court as Aiden took his first stance against Darnell. Two forces waiting to collide. (Then lets see if the monster can bleed.) ... The court shifted again. A subtle but seismic change. Facar stepped off. Darnell Fox stepped back in. And the starters whod sat earlier; Rico Harrow, Silas Green, Anwar Pafur, Marcus Flynn all still on the bench. Rested. Watching. Waiting. But on the floor now... was the blade. And Jamie Lin was the hand gripping it. The crowd? Electric. Screaming. Chanting. But Jamie didnt hear any of it. He stood at the edge of the court, arms loose, jaw set. His eyes didnt blink. Didnt twitch. Phase One... was the data. Now... Phase Two begins. From the opposite side, Darnell Fox re-entered like a titan reawakened. He cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and jogged onto the court like he owned it. Every step he took seemed to shake the hardwood. He wasnt just playing basketball he was hunting. Across the court, Vorpal Baskets formation adjusted. Their zone shifted tighter. Their eyes flicked nervously toward the lane. Darnells presence changed everything. But Jamie? Jamie didnt flinch. He had already accounted for this. Behind him, Coach Ryland Hale was pacing like a caged wolf, sweat staining through the collar of his black polo. His face was red, his voice on edge. "Alright, genius," the coach growled, tugging at his collar, "You said youve got this under control. So whats next?" Jamie tilted his head slightly, not taking his eyes off the court. His voice was smooth. Cold. "We disrupt them... without the ball." The coach blinked. "Without the... What the hell does that even mean!?" But Jamie said nothing more. He didnt have to. Because on the court... it had already begun. .... The referee tossed the ball in. Vultures possession. Jamie took a single breath. The chessboard was his. Darnell Fox caught the inbound pass with one hand a clean snatch, like palming a grapefruit. He dribbled once. The echo thundered. Then his voice boomed across the gym like a cannon blast: "CLEAR OUT." The other Vultures obeyed immediately, fanning out like frightened animals fleeing the monster theyd just summoned. They knew. This possession wasnt for them. This was Darnells arena now. But Jamie Lins gaze wasnt locked on the ball. It never was. His eyes darted across the floor, scanning, calculating, predicting. Disrupt them without the ball. Control the space. Force mistakes. He barely blinked. ..... Louie Gee Davas, at guard, was eyeing the left wing, ready to defend a three-pointer the moment Darnell passed. The ball seemed like it was Louies best friend. Jamies voice was steady, almost quiet, but filled with iron: "Maco, double Louie when he catches." Maco shifted instantly, a wall moving into place. Louies usual rhythm shattered as Macos shadow fell heavy over him. Louie tried to step forward, but Macos hand snaked out fingers brushing the ball, enough to force Louie to pull back. His breathing quickened. ... Across the court, Aiden White moved with smooth precision, cutting toward the basket. He was the kind of player who could make defenders look slow, slicing through seams with quiet confidence. Jamies voice sliced through the noise: "Troy, shadow Aiden. Dont give him an inch." Troy was quick to respond, sliding over, his body tight and low. He mirrored Aidens every step, cutting off his paths. Aidens expression flickered, annoyance, frustration but he didnt panic. He slowed, forced back into the perimeter. .. Jamies eyes flicked back to Darnell, who was trying to create space, dribbling hard to the right. Jamies voice dropped to a sharp command: "Lino, pressure Brandon. Make him uncomfortable." Lino stepped forward, chest up, hands ready. The giant forwards presence pressed hard, and Brandon hesitated, forced to backaway. ... They cant settle. They cant breathe. Jamies strategy was unfolding perfectly the Vultures were choking Vorpals offense, not by attacking the ball directly, but by controlling every inch around it. Darnell lashed out a pass towards Lino, who was positioned near the basket. But Coonie Smith was already there. With the smooth, quick reflexes of a predator, Coonie intercepted the pass mid-air. The ball clattered into his hands, and the crowd erupted. From the bench, Ethan sat rigid, jaw clenched. Theyre suffocating us. This pressure... its different. His eyes swept over the court, noting every shift, every falter. He glanced sideways at Lucas Graves, who sat with his arms crossed, lips tight but eyes burning. Evans voice was low but sure: "Jamies got a plan. Hes making us play his game." Lucas look at Evan and Nodded And Ethans gaze hardened. "Then well have to find a way to break his grip." Jamie Lins calm smile never faded. He folded his arms and whispered to himself: Phase Two... working exactly as expected. To be continue Chapter 121 - 108: Plan is not working Chapter 121: Chapter 108: Plan is not working Hey guys, author here! ???? So... Ive been doing a little sneaky experiment. I intentionally made some small mistakes, like mixing up names or adding confusing little details, hoping readers would catch them and start commenting. You know, stir up some discussion and engagement. But... no one said anything. Not a single comment. Honestly, its kinda sad. ???? I guess I was hoping someone would notice, say something, anything. But silence is louder than I thought. Anyway, thanks for reading if you are your presence means more than you know. ..... Jamies strategy was unfolding perfectly, the Vultures were choking Vorpals offense, not by attacking the ball directly, but by controlling every inch around it. Darnell lashed out a pass toward Lino, who was positioned near the basket. But Coonie Smith was already there. With the smooth, quick reflexes of a predator, Coonie intercepted the pass mid-air. The ball clattered into his hands, and the crowd erupted. Jamies eyes flicked instantly toward Coonies movement, a slight smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "I saw that coming," he muttered under his breath, his voice calm but deadly. "Lino, cut off Coonies next move. Dont let him breathe." Linos massive frame shifted, blocking Coonies path with precise footwork, muscles coiled like springs ready to snap. The giant forwards shadow loomed, forcing Coonie to hesitate, disrupting his rhythm. From the sidelines, Ethans jaw clenched tighter. The weight of Jamies plan pressed on him like a physical force. Theyre not just defending, Ethan thought, theyre orchestrating a suffocating trap. Jamies mind was three moves ahead, he wasnt just reacting, he was dictating the pace, the flow, the very heartbeat of the game. "Pressure forces mistakes," Jamie whispered under his breath, barely audible, but it carried a lethal certainty. "Make them pay for that interception." The Vultures didnt just block; they anticipated, anticipating every step, every glance. Jamies eyes locked on the ball like a hawk on prey, and the rest of the Vultures moved as extensions of his will. "Control the space, control the game," Jamie said firmly, the command sharp and clear. Louie, Vorpals point guard, felt the pinch immediately. Every movement he made was met with resistance, Troy shadowed him like a phantom, denying the easy dribble, forcing him into uncomfortable angles. Kai was boxed out, no room to breathe. Brandon was buried under Linos presence. Louies breaths came quicker, his mind racing to find an opening. But it was like trying to force water through a steel mesh. Suddenly, a sharp whistle blew. The referee called a traveling violation, Louie had stumbled under the pressure. "Damn it," Louie cursed, rubbing his forehead as he retreated to the bench. Ethan caught Louies eye and gave him a subtle nod. (Stay calm. Jamies pressure is a puzzle theres a way through it, but we have to stay sharp.) "Jamies got us right where he wants." Evan said quietly from the bench, his tone edged with frustration but also respect. Josh, arms crossed, nodded slowly. "Hes not just playing defense. Hes controlling every inch of the floor." The crowd, sensing the shift in momentum, grew restless. Vorpals usually fluid offense was grinding to a halt under the Vultures relentless grip. Kai dribbled hard down the right flank, eyes flicking for a pass. He spotted Aiden cutting through the lane, but before the ball could reach him, Troy intercepted, stealing the ball with a lightning-quick swipe. The crowd roared again. Jamies smile widened. "Phase Two is working exactly as expected." Jamies voice barely rose above a whisper, but it carried weight to his teammates. "Fast break. Push hard. Keep them scrambling." Jamie sprinted downcourt, ball in hand, weaving past defenders with the finesse of a master chess player executing a checkmate. Coonie was already retreating, trying to recover, but the gap was too wide. Jamie launched a perfect pass to Darnell streaking toward the basket. With one smooth motion, Darnell took off, soaring past Brandon, who was caught flat-footed. The slam dunk that followed was thunderous, a statement, a declaration that the Vultures werent just defending, they were dominating. Ethans eyes narrowed. The gap was 66 to 29, but this felt like a battle for survival, not just points. "We cant let this spiral out of control," Ethan muttered, tightening his fists. "Jamies pressure is tactical, but its not invincible." "Then whats the play?" Lucas asked, voice low but urgent. Ethans mind raced. He replayed every move, every shift in position. Jamies strength was controlling space, forcing Vorpal to make predictable moves. (If we cant push through the defense by force, then we have to break their pattern.) "We have to reset the tempo," Ethan said firmly. "Slow down, spread the floor, force them to chase. Use the pass fake, the off-ball movement make them run, make them lose position." Kai wiped sweat from his brow and nodded. "Im in. Lets make them uncomfortable." ... Back on the court, Louie took a deep breath. His eyes locked on Jamie, who was already signaling his defense to tighten further. The whistle blew, and the ball was inbounded. Louie dribbled low, shifting left, then right, baiting Troy to commit. At the last second, Louie faked a drive toward the basket Troy lunged forward. With a quick pivot, Louie passed behind his back to Kai, who had slipped free on the weak side. Kai caught it clean, took a step back, and launched a three-pointer. The ball soared, a perfect arc slicing through the tension, swish. The crowd exploded, energy surging through the Vorpal bench. Jamies smile flickered for a split second, a crack in the armor. "Adjust," Jamie barked, voice sharp. "Troy, dont bite on the fakes. Stay disciplined." Troy clenched his jaw, nodding. But the shift in momentum was palpable. Ethan watched, heart pounding. The pressure was relentless, but now the Vultures had to react to adapt. Jamies plan was brilliant, but every strategy had its counter. The game was no longer just about skill or speed it was a battle of minds, wills clashing on hardwood. And Vorpal Basket was ready to fight back. .. Score: 69-29, Vorpal Basket still leading. Jamie caught the inbound pass, dribbling with sharp focus. His eyes flicked across the court, taking in Louie guarding him tight, Kai watching the wings, Aiden hovering near the paint, Coonie ready to pounce, and Brandon protecting the rim. (Tsk... only 29 points? We cant let them run away with this. I need to push harder. Darnells the key, if anyone can break their defense, its him.) Jamie dribbled hard right, forcing Louie to react quickly. "Hold steady. Set it up for Darnell." Troy moved up to screen Louie, buying Jamie a sliver of space. Jamie didnt hesitate, he executed a lightning quick crossover and slipped past Louies defense by an inch, enough to gain momentum. Kai rushed forward to close the gap, but Jamies eyes were already scanning for Darnell. Darnell, the Vultures fiery ace was already in motion, muscles coiled, eyes burning with raw determination. His reputation as the teams hot-blooded scorer wasnt just talk. Darnell thrived in pressure, the kind of player whod fight tooth and nail to swing the game. Jamie slid a sharp, precise pass right into Darnells hands. Darnell caught it mid-stride, knees bending for the explosive power he was famous for. He danced past Aiden, whose outstretched arms couldnt stop the surge. With a savage roar that echoed in the gym, Darnell launched himself into the air, soaring with fierce intent. The ball left his fingertips, curving perfectly in a blazing arc toward the basket. Coonie launched up in a desperate attempt to block, but Darnells shot was pure fire, unstoppable, fierce, and flawless. The net rippled. "Yes!" Darnell shouted, pounding his chest with pride. The crowd roared back in shock and admiration. Jamies smirk widened. "(Thats how you break their momentum,)" he thought, eyes locked on the scoreboard. They might be behind, but now the Vultures were fighting back and with Darnell leading the charge, the momentum was shifting. .. Ethan sat on the bench, jaw tight, watching every move carefully. Jamie is smart. He controls the team well. But Darnell? Hes the real threat quick, aggressive, and not afraid to take over the game. Ethan looked at Maco and Lino the Vultures big men down low. Lino is huge and strong, and hes pretty fast for his size. Maco knows how to use his strength smartly not wasting energy, but stepping up when it counts. The Vultures worked well together. Jamie led with his calm style, but Darnell brought the fire that made Vorpal nervous. Jamie stole the ball pass towards Troy, then Darnell suddenly sprinted across the court, slipping between Aiden and Brandon. He moved fast and hard, making space. Troy passed the ball perfectly to him. Darnell caught it, spun quickly, and pushed for a layup, even as Brandon tried to block him. The ball went in. The crowd gasped. The Vultures were fighting back. Ethans mind raced. Vorpals lead is still big, but if we dont adjust, Darnell and Jamie will take control. He looked at Lucas Graves, who was watching just as closely. Lucass eyes narrowed, focusing hard on the players every move. Ethan whispered, "I need more data." Lucas thought, (I need to copy his movement...) The tension in the gym was rising both teams pushing harder, knowing the game could change at any moment. ..... Back to the Court 69-33 Vorpal Basket still leading, but the gap was slowly closing. Aiden caught the inbound pass and quickly sent it toward Louie. Louies hands gripped the ball firmly as he caught it, eyes scanning the court. He started dribbling forward. "(Jamies already on me...)" Louie thought, feeling the pressure tightening like a vise around him. Jamie was a shadow on Louie, moving with sharp focus and speed. His eyes never left Louies every twitch and step. "(Hes not giving me an inch. I have to be smarter.)" Louies mind was racing, searching for the slightest opening in Jamies relentless defense. From the sidelines, Ethan leaned forward, his gaze locked on the two players. "Jamies pressure isnt just physical its mental. Hes trying to force mistakes, make us panic." Ethans voice was low but full of urgency in his mind. Next to him, Lucass eyes flicked between Louie and Jamie, analyzing every subtle movement, every feint and shuffle. "(If I can copy the moves perfectly, maybe I can help break their defense later,)" Lucas thought, his mind sharp as a blade. Ethans brain was already working fast, connecting dots. "(If Louie breaks Jamies grip, we keep control and stop their momentum. But if Jamie keeps this up, the Vultures will climb back into this game.)" The gym pulsed with energy. The crowd was silent for a moment every second, every play could flip the entire game. Louie took a deep breath and shifted his stance, ready to make the next move. As the clock ticked down. The crowd held its breath. Louie made a sudden fake to the right, then exploded left, trying to break Jamies grip once and for all. Jamie stumbled for a split second, just enough for Louie to dart past him. The gym erupted with gasps and cheers. But Jamie wasnt done. He recovered quickly, sprinting to cut Louie off near the three-point line. Louies eyes scanned the court, 1 minute and 40 seconds left, the clock ticking down fast. He spotted Kai sprinting to the corner, open and ready. "Pass. Now." Louie thought urgently. With a sharp flick, Louie whipped the ball toward Coonie. Coonie caught it cleanly, squared up, and launched a perfect three-pointer. The ball sailed through the air; time seemed to slow. Swish. The shot dropped, adding to Vorpals lead. The scoreboard blinked: 72-33, Vorpal Basket. Ethan let out a slow breath. "Nice Louie." Lucas nodded beside him, eyes still locked on the court. Jamies frustration was clear, but the Vultures werent finished yet. The game was far from over. To be continue Chapter 122 - 109: The End of 3rd Quarter Chapter 122: Chapter 109: The End of 3rd Quarter Jamie clenched his jaw, the echo of the crowds cheers pounding in his ears. "Were not done. Im not letting this game slip any further." He turned sharply, calling for the inbound. Troy didnt hesitate the ball flew into Jamies hands. Jamie immediately pushed forward, quick and sharp with each step, his sneakers squeaking on the hardwood. The moment the ball touched his fingers, the court around him felt smaller like a tunnel closing in. Every noise, every breath, every movement was narrowed down to one thing: "Score. Fast." Louie was backpedaling, trying to match Jamies speed. But Jamie wasnt trying to go around him this time. He crossed left, hard, then spun right a blur of movement. Louie reached out, but Jamie was already past him. "(This pressure... Ive felt it before,)" Ethan thought, his eyes glued to the court. "(Its like that day... where Alec got awakened..)" Jamie dashed toward the paint, and just as Brandon stepped up to help, Jamie zipped a bounce pass behind him to Maco, who had cut into the open space. Maco caught it in stride. "Finish it," Jamie shouted. Maco rose up Aiden tried to contest, but it was too late. Slam. The rim rattled. The crowd gasped. Even the Vorpal bench stood for a moment, eyes wide. 72-35. One minute and ten seconds left. Jamie landed with a glare. He didnt celebrate. "Next stop. Next point. We bleed this lead." Ethan shifted in his seat. He looked over at Lucas. "Lucas, pay attention to that cut. Jamies creating gravity, drawing defenders and opening lanes." Lucass eyes flicked, memorizing everything, Jamies positioning, the timing of the pass, the way Maco had read the lane. "(Got it... So thats how theyre shifting the defense. Its not just about skill its rhythm.)" .... Back on the court, Louie received the inbound again. This time he didnt rush. The gym quieted slightly, tension thick in the air. Louie crossed half-court, and Jamie was already shadowing him, hand low, knees bent, locked in. "(Hes faster this time,)" Louie thought. "(His steps are tighter. I cant use the same move again.)" A quick jab left, then a crossover right but Jamie was there. Louie hesitated. Kai cut across the arc, dragging Troy with him. Brandon posted up but Lino pressed tight, denying entry. Coonie tried to shake Darnell, who stuck to him like glue. Aiden moved up, offering a screen. Louie took it. Jamie fought through it, bumping Louie on the other side just a moment of contact, but enough to disrupt timing. "Theyre adapting." Louie pulled back, tried to reset 12 seconds on the shot clock. He passed to Aiden at the elbow. Aiden faked the handoff, then spun into the paint, trying to muscle past Maco. But Maco held firm. Aiden stumbled, threw up a tough fadeaway. Clank. The ball hit the rim, bounced up. Lino soared and grabbed the rebound with two hands. The crowd roared again, Vulture fans waking up. Jamie caught the outlet and exploded forward, a blur of energy with under 50 seconds left. "Push. Push. Make them panic." He darted toward the key, drew both Louie and Aiden then whipped a no-look pass behind his back. Straight to Darnell. Darnell caught it at the wing. One dribble. Rise. Release. Splash. 72-38. The Vultures bench erupted, slapping the floor, shouting. "Lets go! Lets go!" Ethan stood now, his heart pounding. "Its not about catching up anymore," he muttered. "Its about momentum. If they end this quarter strong, theyll come back hungrier in the next." Lucas nodded slowly. "(this is like a psychological warfare.)" Ethan turned to the court again. Louie was wiping sweat from his brow, signaling for a calm setup. The pressure was on now not from the scoreboard, but from the fire building inside the Vultures. Thirty-five seconds. And counting. ... Meanwhile, on the Portsmouth Vultures bench, the original starting five sat drenched in sweat, their jerseys clinging to their bodies. The heat of the gym and the pressure of the scoreboard weighed heavily on them. Their chests rose and fell, some leaning forward, others with towels over their heads. Marcus Flynn, the starting point guard, leaned slightly toward Anwar Pafur, the tall and muscular center. "Were keeping up," Marcus muttered, eyes locked on the court as Jamie and the second unit played with relentless energy. Anwar turned toward him, brows furrowed. "What do you mean keeping up? Its still one-sided 72 to 38. Were left behind." His voice had a frustrated edge. He grabbed the towel from his lap and wiped his face. "Even with the bench out there, Vorpals still in control." Silas Green, the forward with quick feet and sharper instincts, crossed his arms and stared at the court, jaw clenched. "Doesnt matter what the score says. Jamies changing the flow. Cant you feel it?" "Hes right," Rico Harrow added, the starting shooting guard, sitting with his hands clasped. "Its not about the points anymore. Its the tempo. We were stumbling in the first two quarters, but now..." He glanced at Jamie weaving through defenders again. "Now theyre on their heels." Anwar huffed, tossing the towel to the ground. "Still not enough. They need more than fire. Were running out of time." Marcus, ever the steady hand, cracked a small grin. "Time? Theres a whole second half waiting for us. Jamies warming them up. Let him cook." They watched as Jamie pushed the pace again, zipping another laser pass into the hands of Darnell, who hit a clean jumper. "We rest now, but Fourth Quarter?" Marcus said as he stood and stretched his legs. "We come back and finish what we started." Silas gave a single nod. "Lets turn this gym upside down." The Vultures starters may have been benched but their fire was far from out. The second half would be war. ... BACK TO THE COURT 20 SECONDS LEFT The gym buzzed with tension. Shoes squeaked on hardwood, breaths came sharp and fast, and the scoreboard flashed: Vorpal Basket 72 | Vultures 38 Time Remaining: 00:20 Louie had the ball at the top of the key, his eyes darting between teammates and defenders. Jamie was still on him low, balanced, reading every twitch in Louies body like a hawk. "Hes not tired," Louie thought, feeling the heat of Jamies defense. "Hes still coming at me like its the first quarter." Aiden called for a screen, and Louie nodded subtly. As Aiden slid over to block Jamies path, Louie took the chance he darted left, using the screen to get a half-step of space. Jamie recovered quickly, fighting over the screen, but Louie had already shifted the ball behind his back and split toward the free-throw line. 15 seconds. Coonie cut hard to the wing, dragging his defender with him. Kai faked backdoor, then sprinted toward the top. Brandon posted up Lino near the block, calling for the ball. Louie looked up too much traffic. Instead, he pulled up. A quick release. Clean form. Jamie lunged, fingertips grazing the air but not the ball. Swish. The crowd exploded. A smooth mid-range jumper cold-blooded and precise. 74C38. 8 seconds left. Jamie took the inbound pass quickly and charged down the court. His brows furrowed, mind racing. "No time to reset. Gotta strike fast." He passed mid-dribble to Darnell, who caught it in stride and slashed toward the basket. Coonie tried to close the gap, but Darnells first step was too quick explosive. "Go!" Jamie shouted. Darnell rose, right at the buzzer, and laid it in over Brandons outstretched arms. BEEP! The buzzer echoed through the gym. The ball dropped clean. The crowd murmured, some cheering, some silent. .... 3rd quarter end Score: Vorpal Basket 74 | Vultures 40 The buzzer had barely faded before both teams began walking toward their benches. Players traded tired smiles and lazy high-fives, sweat dripping from their brows, jerseys clinging to their backs. Some dropped onto the bench with a sigh, others stayed standing, fired up. From the sideline, Ethan stood with arms crossed, eyes sharp and focused, still analyzing the last few minutes before the break. Lucas stood beside him, arms behind his back, eyes just as intense. "Did you already analyze them?" he asked casually, not taking his gaze off the Vultures huddle. Ethan nodded slowly. "My analysis is already completed." ... Meanwhile, on the Vorpal bench, Ryan gave a big grin and slapped a high-five to Brandon, who was still catching his breath. "Damn, you were dominating the game back there!" Ryan said, wide-eyed. Brandon smirked and wiped his forehead with a towel. "I wont give you my chocolate, Ryan." Ryan scratched the back of his head, laughing sheepishly. "Hehehe, got caught." Nearby, Aiden was panting, his chest rising and falling steadily. His arms rested on his knees as he leaned forward. Josh Turner looked over and nodded approvingly. "Nice game you played out there, Aiden." Aiden looked up, gave a quick thumbs-up. "Gotta do what I gotta do." At the end of the bench, Evan approached Louie, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You were incredible out there. Looks like Ethans training is paying off." Louie grinned wide, confidence pouring off him as he raised both arms dramatically. "Heh, who do you think I am? Im Louie Gee Davas streetball prodigy, remember that!" With that, Louie turned and jogged over toward Ethan. He stopped in front of him, still catching his breath but wearing a big smile. "Ethan!! How did I do?" Ethan looked up at him, calm as always, and gave a small nod. "You did good." Louie beamed, proud of the praise. Then he looked at Lucas, who was watching the scene with a flat expression. Louie tilted his head, a smug look on his face. "Heh." Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Call me senior, junior..." Louie snorted a laugh. "hmmm Senior... my ass" The mood lightened around the Vorpal bench. Despite the pressure, the players were energized, bonded. It wasnt just talent keeping them ahead it was chemistry. .. Meanwhile, across the court, the original Vultures starters were watching the court from their bench. Anwar Pafur, arms crossed, shook his head. "Tch. What a joke." Marcus Flynn, their starting point guard, muttered, "Were keeping up, though. Theyre not running us out completely." Anwar turned to him, visibly annoyed. "I said... What do you mean keeping up? Its 74C40. Were getting smoked." Silas Green, cool and composed as always, added, "Doesnt matter. 4th quarter is ours. That was just warm-up. Lets remind everyone who we are." Rico Harrow, the shooting guard, tightened his headband and cracked his knuckles. "Time to take back the game." ..... Back on Vorpals side, Ethan remained standing as the team sat, drinking water and listening to the coachs instructions. He looked out over the court again. "First half... controlled. 4th quarter... we seal it." Lucas nodded, stepping forward slowly. "And Ill be on the floor this time." Louie chuckled as he took a sip of water. "Lets see what you got, senior." The second half was about to begin. New fire. New energy. The real fight was just getting started. ... In the upper section of the gym bleachers, where the crowd wasnt as packed but still buzzing with noise, Charlotte Graves sat with one leg crossed over the other, her arms folded as she watched the scoreboard flash: Vorpal Basket 74 | Vultures 40 She wasnt cheering, wasnt clapping. Just watching cool, calm, and analytical. Her phone was off. Her attention? Completely locked in. The camera zoomed across the court for halftime coverage, passing by Lucas, seated on the bench next to Ethan. Charlottes sharp eyes narrowed just slightly. "Hoh..." she murmured under her breath. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Her little brother, the same kid who used to sneak out late at night to shoot hoops behind their apartment building was now part of a real match, sitting beside Ethan their friend. She watched as Lucas smirked at Louie and said something snarky, and Louie shot back with the energy of a born showman. Charlotte sighed through her nose and leaned forward slightly. "Lucas..." She thought back to the countless times he bragged to her about copying NBA players moves off YouTube. "If youre serious about winning this..." She eyed Ethan Albarado closely now, calm, composed, that calculating look. "...then youd better follow that guys lead." Charlotte looked at the scoreboard "74 to 40..." she whispered, lips curving just slightly into a smile. "Thats to be expected..." Her hands tightened around her water bottle as she leaned back into her seat. "Lets see what you do in the Fourth Quarter, little brother. Show me what all those late nights were worth." "And Ethan... Show them who you are" To be continue Chapter 123 - 110: 4th Quarter Chapter 123: Chapter 110: 4th Quarter 4th Quarter Begins Score: Vorpal Basket 74 | Portsmouth Vultures 40 The gym felt heavier now not because of the score, but because everyone knew this quarter was different. No more testing the waters. No more rotations. It was the real deal now. Both teams had sent out their starters their true weapons. This was the battle that would define momentum for the rest of the season. .... Team Vorpal Basket (Black and Gold) Lucas Graves (#10) C Shooting Guard Evan Cooper (#9) C Point Guard Josh Turner (#8) C Small Forward Ryan Taylor (#11) C Power Forward Brandon Young (#15) C Center These five stood in formation calm, focused, and locked in. Lucas bounced the ball once, catching Darnells sharp gaze across the court. "(Lets do this...)" Lucas thought, his yellow eyes narrowing. "(Time to show them what we are)" .... Portsmouth Vultures Marcus Flynn C Point Guard Rico Harrow C Shooting Guard Darnell Fox C Small Forward Silas Green C Power Forward Anwar Pafur C Center The Vultures walked on with fire in their steps. Darnell rolled his shoulders, his muscles tense but warm. He was sweating but not because of exhaustion. Because of hunger. He wanted this. Marcus slapped his chest and pointed to Rico. "Lets take it back. Play smart. No fouls. Just pressure." Anwar cracked his knuckles and smirked toward Brandon, his matchup. "Time for round two, big man." .. 12:00 on the Clock, 4th Quarter Tip-Off The whistle blew. Evan Cooper brought the ball up for Vorpal, his body low, guarded by Marcus Flynn. Ethan, seated just off-court with a clipboard in hand, whispered to himself: "Now the real data begins..." Lucas moved fast, weaving along the sideline, brushing past screens set by Josh and Ryan. "Darnells watching me..." "But if I bait him left..." Lucas cut hard right instead a perfect fake, and Evan saw it. Bounce pass clean. Lucas caught the ball near the elbow. He stopped. One dribble. Pull-up jumper. Swish. Nothing but net. 76C40. The crowd roared. ... Marcus didnt waste time. He sped up the court, calling for a screen from Silas. Lucas was already back on defense. "Switch!" Josh called. Rico cut into the corner, caught the ball, and shot instantly. Clang miss. Rebound Brandon. Quick outlet to Evan. Fast break incoming. Ryan ran up the left wing. Evan faked a pass then no-looked to Josh Turner, who caught it mid-stride and hammered in a dunk with both hands. 78C40. The gym erupted again. .. Darnell walked slowly toward inbound, his face unreadable. Then he shouted. "Enough warming up. Lets go." He clapped once. Loud. BOOM. The Vultures tempo changed. Suddenly Marcus was attacking faster. Rico was cutting harder. Silas began playing more physical. Darnell caught the next pass, one-on-one with Josh. "You think you can stop me?" he said coldly. He jab-stepped, crossed over hard, spun and elevated into the air. Brandon jumped too late. Darnell slammed the ball through with force. 78C42. Even the Vorpal bench had to nod. Lucas turned toward him. "hmm..." "...hes getting good." Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Ive seen enough." "Lucas, its time to wake up." .. Meanwhile Portsmouth Vultures Bench The sound of sneakers squeaking on the court echoed faintly behind them. Sweat clung to Jamie Lins jersey as he sat at the edge of the bench, still catching his breath from the intense third quarter. His eyes were fixed on the scoreboard: 4th Quarter: Vorpal Basket 78 | Vultures 42 He didnt blink. Just stared. Coach Ryland, arms folded and clipboard in hand, eased down onto the seat beside him. "What do you think..." Ryland asked, voice low, eyes squinting at the court. "You think we could still win this?" Jamie didnt look at him. Just muttered, voice steady: "Its 50/50." Coach Ryland groaned lightly, shaking his head. "Again with the 50/50? You always say that." Jamie finally turned toward him, sweat trailing down his temple. "We still dont know their real plan." "And that Lucas kid... we know what he is. He can copy people. Their style. Their tempo." "Thats not normal." Ryland shifted. "Yeah, but even then, they beat Alec Storm with two people. Ethan was helping Lucas. That wasnt a clean one-on-one." Jamie gave him a look calm, certain. "Youre wrong." "Ethan stepped in at the end because he wanted to close the game." "But even he knew... Lucas couldve handled Alec solo." Ryland went silent. Jamie leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes narrowing. "Based on my analysis, Lucas is different now. More calculated. He doesnt just copy anymore..." "He learns. He improves. He evolves." They both watched as Lucas intercepted a pass on the court, then turned and launched a fast-break lob toward Josh, who slammed it home. 80C42. Coach Ryland sighed. "...thats not just copying anymore." Jamie nodded slowly. "Exactly." "Thats instinct." And from the corner of the court, Ethan Albarado stood with arms crossed, eyes fixed forward, already three plays ahead. The Vultures mightve been trailing... ...but Jamie knew this wasnt just about points anymore. It was about momentum. Growth. And something scary brewing in Vorpals core. Maybe thanks to a certain indivual.... .... Back to the Court 4th Quarter Score: Vorpal Basket 80 | Vultures 42 Time: 6:45 left on the clock The crowds cheers faded into a low, tense hum as Lucas Graves stood face-to-face with Darnell Fox, the Vultures ace and #0 the hot-blooded fighter with fire in his eyes. Both players stood at the top of the key, the atmosphere electric. Lucas dribbled calmly, the ball bouncing with rhythm. His yellow eyes were locked in reading every twitch, every breath Darnell took. Across from him, Darnell widened his stance. Sweat clung to his brow, but his energy hadnt faded. In fact, it surged. The moment hed been waiting for had finally arrived. "So youre the one everyones hyped up," Darnell said, cracking his neck. Lucas didnt reply. He just smiled. "Lets see what you really got, Graves." The crowd leaned in. Evan passed the ball in to Lucas. It was on. Lucas took the first step sharp and clean. Darnell responded immediately, mirroring it with a slide that covered ground fast. He was fast faster than Lucas expected but Lucas wasnt just trying to break past. He was measuring. "(His stance... wide, aggressive. Trying to bait a drive left... too risky. Ill feint it.)" Lucas made a quick jab to the left. Darnell bit, shifting with it. Thats when Lucas spun right smooth and sudden shifting his shoulder down and cutting toward the free throw line. But Darnell recovered. He didnt fall for the spin. He planted his heel and shifted back, cutting off the lane like a wall of muscle and instinct. "(He read that? Damn... hes sharp.)" Lucas thought, tightening his grip. Mid-range. No space. Darnells arms out. The pressure was on. Lucas pivoted once then again and rose for a quick fadeaway jumper. Darnell jumped with him. Fingers grazed the ball. It changed its path slightly. Clang. The ball hit the rim. Ryan scrambled for the rebound but Anwar Pafur boxed him out and pulled it down. The Vultures had a chance. "Not bad," Darnell said, jogging up the court. "Youre quick. But I already adapt your pattern. Youll need more than that." Lucas dusted his hands and smirked. "Dont worry. I change so fast." .. Next play, Marcus Flynn dribbled it up and passed it to Darnell, who waved everyone off. It was time for payback. Lucas planted his feet in front of him, watching. "(Lets see how you move... come on, show me.)" Darnell dribbled once, twice then exploded forward. He wasnt just fast he was violent with his motion. A mix of power and rhythm. Lucas held his ground, shuffled back, trying to stay in front. Darnell spun. Lucas stayed with him. Then Darnell pump-faked, Lucas didnt bite. But Darnells footwork was slick. One more pivot and he slipped under Lucass arm, laying the ball off the glass. Bucket. 80C44. .. As they jogged back, Lucass eyes sharpened. "(His body control... perfect. His feints arent just tricks. Theyre built into his movement.)" From the bench, Ethan watched. "This is it... Lucas is analyzing him now. Hes locking on." ... Next possession, Evan passed to Lucas again. Darnell waited. "Again?" he asked, raising a brow. Lucas cracked his neck. "Yeah. Again." This time, Lucas didnt rush. He just moved fluid, controlled. He drove right, Darnell stepped in but Lucas pulled back with a stepback dribble and fired a clean jumper. Swish. 82C44. The crowd erupted. Darnell stared for a second, then... smiled. "Fucking monster" ... .... Now Score: Vorpal Basket 82 | Vultures 44 Time: 6:10 remaining Darnell Fox took a deep breath, dribbling the ball up slowly, eyes locked on Lucas Graves. "(I thought that pattern was correct... tsk.)" he grit his teeth, flicking sweat from his forehead. Lucas had just nailed a clean stepback jumper a move Darnell had anticipated, but Lucas changed his rhythm at the last moment. "(Looks like he really did change his pattern... hes not just copying moves. Hes adapting mine... remixing them.)" Darnell passed to Rico Harrow on the wing, then cut through to the baseline before circling back to the top. The ball came back to his hands. Lucas followed steady, light on his feet, focused like a hawk. From the Vultures bench, Jamie Lin watched the exchange closely, eyes narrow under his damp bangs. "(So hes shifting his learning mid-play. Not just copying... but evolving. Lucas Graves is a nightmare if you give him time.)" Back on court, Darnell spun the ball in his hand, mind racing. "(What should we do now, Jamie? Youre on the bench. Its up to me now...)" He lowered his shoulder and launched forward. Lucas matched him stride for stride. Darnell switched hands mid-dribble, then hit a behind-the-back fake crossover the kind that made defenders stumble but Lucas didnt bite. His yellow eyes didnt even blink. "(Hes seen it already.)" Darnell pivoted into a fadeaway clean form, smooth arc. Clang. Off the rim. Brandon Young grabbed the rebound and instantly outlet-passed to Evan Cooper. Evan sprinted up, signaling a transition. "Lets go!" Evan shouted. .... Lucas caught the ball at the wing. Darnell had already tracked back, panting slightly. Ethan watched from the bench, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "Hes testing Darnell now... Lucas isnt just going for points. Hes breaking Darnell down." Lucas hesitated just a millisecond before driving left. Darnell chased, but Lucas stopped on a dime, turned his back, bumped once into Darnells chest, then spun over his shoulder and launched a floater off the glass. In. 84C44. Darnell stumbled backward slightly, eyes wide. "(I didnt even see the release point...)" .... The gym thundered with cheers. On the Vultures bench, Coach Ryland leaned forward. Jamie didnt say a word, just stared at Lucas. "Hes changed completely since that time..." Ryland murmured. Jamie finally spoke. "Hes adapting with every second. And the more Darnell pushes him, the faster he learns." ..... Back on the floor, Darnell passed the ball in to Marcus Flynn. "Clear out," Darnell said, voice sharp. He got the ball back at the top, and this time he didnt hesitate. He drove hard explosive right into Lucas. Lucas didnt flinch. Contact. Darnell bumped once twice then rose for a poster dunk. Lucas jumped with him. The crowd held its breath. Their bodies collided in the air. SLAM! The ball thundered through the rim, but Lucass hand had grazed it. And-one. 84C46. Darnell landed hard and roared, adrenaline pouring through him. Lucas hit the floor, slid slightly, but popped right back up. He looked at Darnell, smiling. Darnell stared at him, panting. "Youre good," Darnell said. Lucas nodded. "Youre not bad either." They stood there, locked in a silent challenge, as the crowd roared around them. This wasnt just a game anymore. It was a battle of growth vs. will. Prodigy vs. Ace. And it was far from over. To be continue Chapter 124 - 111: Jamie’s Decision Chapter 124: Chapter 111: Jamies Decision Court C 4th Quarter Score: Vorpal Basket 84 | Vultures 47 Time: 5:43 remaining [Minutes of playing and Darnell is in the free throw line.] Darnell stepped to the free-throw line, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on the rim. Lucas stood just behind the three-point arc, unfazed, watching intently. (Hes trying to reassert dominance.) (He wants the crowd, his team... and me... to know hes still the ace.) Bounce. Bounce. Breath. Release. The ball rolled around the rim... and fell out. Brandon Young snagged the rebound, muscling past Anwar Pafur, and passed it quickly to Evan. Evan Cooper zipped up the court, quick as lightning. Lucas trailed slightly behind, scanning like a machine. On the sideline, Ethans eyes narrowed. "Darnells going for momentum plays. But that dunk... it was too costly. Hes playing desperate now." Evan passed to Ryan Taylor in the post then immediately cut around. Lucas darted to the wing. Darnell was slow on the switch. Ryan faked a hook, then kicked the ball back out to Lucas wide open. Lucas caught. Bounced once. Pulled up. Splash. 87C47. The lead widened again. The gym erupted, students and fans yelling, stomping, clapping. .... From the Vultures bench, Jamie Lin leaned forward. "Hes not just playing fast... hes calculated. Each move is to bait Darnell." Coach Ryland grimaced. "Hes dissecting our best player." .. Back on the court, Marcus Flynn advanced the ball. "Run motion!" he shouted. Silas Green came off a screen and caught a pass, trying to draw Josh Turner away from the lane. But Josh was all over him arms wide, feet light. Silas tried to spin but got stuck. He tossed it back to Marcus with 7 seconds on the shot clock. Marcus had no choice passed to Darnell at the top again. Lucas waited. The hardwood echoed as Darnell Fox stood at the top of the arc, breath heavy, sweat trickling down his forehead. He locked eyes with Lucas Graves. (I cant keep letting him read me... Ive changed the angle, the tempo, even the rhythm. Why is he still two steps ahead?) Darnell jab-stepped hard to the left lightning-fast then spun to the right, his foot pivoting with control. He faked the drive, then suddenly halted his momentum with a sharp, graceful turn. (Thisll catch him...) He rose for a high-arching turnaround jumper. Lucas didnt flinch. He anticipated the hesitation. Time slowed. (Now.) Lucas jumped, arms stretched, timing perfect his fingers barely grazing the ball just as it left Darnells hand. Tip. The balls rotation wobbled in mid-air like a broken spin. It arced toward the rim and hit... CLANK! Off the side. No bucket. Brandon Young stormed in for the rebound, grabbing it like a boulder snatched from the sky. "Outlet!" Evan Coopers voice rang like thunder from downcourt. Without hesitation, Brandon slung it out. Evan caught and sprinted up the right lane. Lucas trailed him by a half-step, already sensing the opportunity. Evan didnt even look he knew where to put the pass. Whip! The ball curved in a perfect bounce, leading Lucas into stride. Lucas caught it, planted his foot just inside the paint And took off. His body twisted mid-air a flash of finesse the crowd rising as he executed a perfect double-clutch reverse layup, the ball gliding off the glass Swish. The net snapped. 89C47. The gym erupted. Screams. Applause. Phones out. Chants beginning to swell again "LU-CAS! LU-CAS!" Darnell landed near the baseline, stunned. Hands on hips, his jaw clenched. (...He baited me again. He tipped it. He ran the break. He finished it like a pro.) (...Im the ace. Im supposed to be the one doing this.) Lucas turned, sweat trailing off his brow, and glanced back at Darnell. That grin again. "Still think youre the ace?" Darnell didnt respond. He just stared. His pride... cracking. ... Meanwhile, on the Portsmouth Vultures bench, Jamie Lin drenched in sweat, towel around his shoulders sat forward, eyes sharp. He looked up at the scoreboard again. 89C47. His eyes then flicked to Lucas on the court, his voice calm, but with that same competitive fire that lit up every time things looked impossible. "Coach... sub me in. Take Marcus out for now. I have a plan." Coach Ryland turned to him, skeptical. "What is this plan youre talking about? This game is spiraling" Jamie cut him off not rudely, but firmly. His eyes were focused, not a hint of hesitation. "Trust me." Coach Ryland studied Jamie for a second. Then nodded slowly. "...Alright. Marcus out. Jamie in. Lets see what you can do." Jamie stood, wiping the sweat from his neck. He looked out at the court at Lucas. At the scoreboard. (You broke Darnells rhythm. But mines just starting.) He pulled off his warm-up shirt. Time to change the game. ... 4th Quarter 3:58 Remaining Score: Vorpal Basket 89 | Portsmouth Vultures 47 Jamie Lin stepped back onto the court. The moment his foot touched hardwood, something shifted. The crowd quieted slightly like it sensed something new was about to happen. Lucas glanced sideways, spotting the substitution. (Hes back... Jamie Lin. So, theyre not giving up yet.) Jamie cracked his neck, then jogged into position beside Darnell, who still looked frustrated from the last possession. Jamie slapped Darnells chest lightly. "Forget it. You did your part. Now let me mess him up a little." Darnell nodded slowly, jaw still tight. "Be my guest. But dont fall into his rhythm. He plays like a mirror." Jamie smirked. "Then Ill fog the glass." .. Vorpals possession. Evan brought the ball up slowly, letting the offense breathe. Lucas ran off a screen by Brandon, curling toward the top of the arc. Jamie shadowed him immediately eyes calm, feet light. Not biting, not chasing. (Hes not pressuring me... hes containing me?) Lucas thought, surprised. Lucas jabbed. Jamie didnt react. He feinted a drive, Jamie still didnt flinch. No reach-ins. No jumps. Just perfect defensive form. (Hes... delaying?) Lucas finally drove left with speed, but Jamie slid with him, body angled to deny the lane. Lucas tried to cross back "Nope." Jamies hand tapped the ball. Swipe. Loose ball! It rolled toward the sideline. Lucas dove but Jamie was faster. Jamie scooped it up and bolted the other way, crowd roaring as the break began. "Lets go!" Rico Harrow sprinted ahead on the wing, Silas Green trailing slightly behind. Jamie reached mid-court, then faked the pass to Rico, the defense shifted Behind-the-back dish to Silas! Silas caught it clean, took two steps, and thundered a dunk through the rim. BOOM! Vultures fans: "Vultures!!" Score: Vorpal Basket 89 | Vultures 49 The gym crackled with tension. The Vultures were still down big, but Jamies presence had shifted the air like a cold wind warning of a coming storm. .... On the Vorpal bench, Ethan Albarado stood up, jaw tight, eyes locked on the court. (That wasnt just speed... that was a calculated read. Hes not just playing defense, hes taking control of the whole tempo.) Beside him, Louie leaned forward, arms crossed, voice low. "Jamies setting tempo. Hes not trying to score like hes trying to control." Ethan didnt respond immediately. He was already thinking two steps ahead, watching Jamies body language, how Lucas responded, the ripple effect across both teams. Then he said, calm but firm: "It looks like I need to step up." He turned, eyes narrowing at the bench where Coach Fred Mason, Vorpals notorious "laid-back" and comfortably overweight coach, sat and fiddling with his clipboard. Ethan didnt wait. He marched toward him. "Coach Mason call timeout." The coach blinked, looked up at Ethans sharp tone eyes meeting the boys serious stare. For a second, the gym noise felt distant. Mason chewed once more, then slowly nodded. "...Alright." He stood and signaled the ref. BZZZZZT! Timeout Vorpal Basket. Ethan turned to the others on the bench. "Everyone huddle. Were not letting Jamie dictate this game. Not now. Not ever." Louie smirked and popped up. Josh cracked his knuckles. Brandon muttered, "Bout time..." Lucas walked toward them, wiping sweat from his brow. His eyes locked with Ethans. "You coming in?" Ethan didnt answer immediately. He just looked at the scoreboard 89C49. Then at Jamie, who stood calmly in front of his team, quietly giving directions. And finally, at Lucas. "Lets finish this right." The chessboard was resetting. And Ethan Albarado was stepping back into the game. ... Now as Ethan Albarado stepped in, the gym lights reflecting off his calm but focused expression. He adjusted his wristband, cracked his knuckles, and took his place at the point guard spot. The crowd murmured, the player who had helped beat Orlando Hoops ace had entered the game again. Ethan closed his eyes for a second, reaching into his system. (System... buy the Clarity Card. Slows perception of time slightly, enhances decision making for 60 seconds C 400 SP.) (Affirmative, Host. Clarity Card activated 60 seconds. Good luck.) Time didnt freeze but it felt like it slowed. The crowds noise muffled slightly. Movements on the court became more precise, more readable. Ethans heartbeat steadied. He looked ahead at Jamie Lin, who had his back turned while talking to Darnell. (Youre smart, Jamie. I admit that... But you miscalculated.) He tapped the ball, signaling the inbound. Evan passed it to him. As Ethan dribbled forward slowly, eyes locked on Jamie Lin. Jamie turned around, calm and alert, sliding into his defensive stance. The gym seemed to hold its breath again, a clash between two minds, not just bodies. Ethans thoughts sharpened, each second stretched by the Clarity Card. (Hes positioned too far to my right. Hes baiting me left... which means theres a trap waiting.) Jamies eyes scanned Ethans body language, waiting for the first twitch, the first hint of movement. (If I cross over now, hell collapse the screen with Darnell. No... not yet.) Ethan dribbled once more, slowly then suddenly accelerated forward. Jamie stepped in. (Predictable. There it is.) Ethan hesitated, baiting the defense, then spun back hard to the left a blur in motion. Jamie reached out. Too late. Ethan broke past him. Darnell jumped off the help defense. Ethan didnt hesitate, he flicked a perfect no-look bounce pass to Ryan, cutting in. Ryan caught it clean, went up strongdunk! BOOM! Crowd: "Whoah!!!" Score: 91C49 Jamie turned, eyes narrowing. Darnell gritted his teeth. "He saw through it again..." From the bench, Coach Ryland slowly stood up, rubbing his chin. Lucas watched with a knowing smirk. (Hes not just playing... hes dissecting.) As Ethan backpedaled on defense, he whispered under his breath: "I told you, Jamie. You miscalculated." And the war of the fourth quarter had truly begun. ... In the bleachers, the Eastgate Wildcats leaned forward, tension thick in the air. All eyes had been on the court, but now they were squarely on one player: Ethan Albarado. The way he moved. The way he read. The way he carved through the defense like a scalpel through silk. Miho Park narrowed his eyes, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. "Ethan... youve become much stronger after that day." His voice was low, thoughtful. One of Eastgates assistant coaches leaned in, clearly impressed. "Miho, you saw that pass? Thats some elite read-and-react. That wasnt just reflex, he baited Jamie Lin like a chess master." Miho didnt reply immediately. His mind was elsewhere not just on the play, but on the feel of it. The tempo, the calculation, the shift in momentum. (The hesitation... the spin... the fake lane... he manipulated the court like a conductor with a symphony.) Finally, he responded, voice calm but weighty: "Hes not just fast. Hes ahead. A step... maybe two." That statement made Jun Seo, their energetic member, blink. "You think hed stand a chance against you?" Before Miho could reply, Davis Conner, the burly power forward who had played with Miho for three seasons, chuckled and leaned back. "He even beat Miho back then." "OHHHHH!" Juns voice cracked up like a schoolkid catching tea. Mihos brow twitched. He turned slowly toward Davis. "Fuck you... That was because of that Charlotte Graves. She interfered. Our game got canceled." Davis laughed harder. "Still counts, Captain." Jun nudged Miho again. "Charlotte Graves... thats Lucass older sister, right?" Miho clenched his jaw, gaze drifting back to the court. (You slipped past me once, Ethan. But next time... no distractions. Just you and me.) Down below, the scoreboard continued to climb. Score: 91C49. And the fire in the crowd grew not just for this game, but for the future war they all now saw coming. To be continue Chapter 125 - 112: Who are you Ethan Albarado Chapter 125: Chapter 112: Who are you Ethan Albarado Score: 91C49 | 4th Quarter | 2:41 Remaining The arena was alive voices rising, tension mounting. Anwar Pafur, the Vultures center, grabbed the rebound and immediately passed to Jamie Lin, their point guard. Jamie advanced with deliberate pace. His eyes were locked on Ethan Albarado, now commanding the floor as Vorpal Baskets Point Forward. Jamies thoughts raced: "(This bastard... The way he moves as if hes waiting for me... Does he really slow time or what? Cause what kind of cheat code is this?)" He drove hard left sudden burst. Ethan slid. Instinctive. Jamie planted, spun then kicked the ball out to Rico Harrow at the wing. Rico shot Clank! Off the rim. Brandon Young snagged the board like a magnet. One pivot. Full extension. Outlet pass to Evan Cooper. Evan exploded up the court. Lucas Graves ran the right lane, Ethan the left. Evan didnt hesitate. Mid-sprint, a fast bounce pass to Ethan. Ethan caught it in stride. Jamie hustled back, desperate. Too late. Ethan jumped turned midair Double clutch, up-and-under layup. In. Score: 93C49. The crowd ERUPTED. A chant surged like a wave: "E-THAN! E-THAN! E-THAN!" ... Up in the section of the bleachers, away from the roaring chaos of the crowd, a man sat with an unreadable expression. Blond hair, neatly combed. Sharp suit, crisp collar. His presence was quietbut commanding. He had been watching Ethan Albarado for some time now. As the scoreboard flashed 96C49, and the crowd chanted Ethans name like he was a legend reborn, the blond man leaned forward ever so slightly. A faint smile curled on his lips. "Ethan... you really are an interesting person..." His voice was smooth, low, and laced with curiosityas if hed just found a rare gem buried in a pile of stones. His eyes didnt blink. (That level of control... vision... anticipation. Its not just skill. Something else is moving in him.) He sat back again, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. .... Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the bleachers, the reaction was not nearly as elegant. A rowdy, loud, and boisterous crew was watching the scoreboard with disbelief. SunshineBasket, a team known for their flashy offense and even flashier personalities, had shown up just to scoutmaybe mocka little. One of their forwards, a skin-headed, tatted-up brawler named Mero, stared at the screen with his mouth slightly open. "Damn," he muttered, loud enough for the team to hear. "They fucked up the Portsmouth Vultures." The rest of SunshineBasket leaned forward. "Yo, they were supposed to be good, right?" "Vultures got some real talent too, man... but that Ethan kid?" Mero spat to the side and laughed, wiping his mouth with his wrist tape. "That aint no kid. Thats a fucking problem." He looked toward his captain. "You think were ready for that?" No one answered. They just kept watching the court... as Ethan Albarado jogged calmly back on defense, the crowd still chanting his name like it was prophecy. ... Back on the court... The ball was back with Jamie Lin. He stood near half-court, dribbling slowly. The gym pulsed with noise, but his focus tunneled into one player: Ethan. Ethan crouched low, eyes locked. Jamie exhaled. "(Alright then... Show me just how far youve come.)" He called for an iso teammates cleared out. Jamie jab-stepped left, drove right then stopped. Spin. Step-back jumper a flash of space. He rose for the shot. Ethan anticipated. He jumped just enough. Smack. Blocked. Gasps. Cheers. The ball flew loose Lucas Graves scooped it and bolted. He passed ahead to Ethan, who charged forward. Rico and Silas Green gave chase too late. Ethan planted. Pivoted. No-look dish to Lucas trailing behind SPLASH! Three-pointer. Score: 96C49. .. On the bench, amidst the sea of roaring fans and thunderous stomps, Charlotte Graves sat with her hands clasped beneath her chin. Her violet eyes were locked on the courtnot at Ethan this time but on Lucas. He had just hit that trailing three off Ethans no-look dish. Smooth. Confident. No hesitation. The follow-through was picture-perfect, and the sound of the ball swishing through the net still echoed in her ears. Charlotte didnt smile. Not yet. She just stared... like she was seeing someone or something begin to awaken. Her voice was low, almost like she was speaking to herself, but Lucas wouldve heard it if he glanced her way. "Youre not just a boy anymore..." she murmured, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Youre something." She leaned back slowly, a breath catching in her chest as her expression softenedjust a little. "You are Lucas Graves from Vorpal Basket" Then, a rare smile tugged at her lips. She whispered under her breath: "Go ahead, little brother. Show them what a Graves really looks like." .. BACK ON THE COURT Score: 96C49 | 4th Quarter | 2:01 Remaining The gym was roaring. Vorpal Basket had pulled ahead by nearly 50 the scoreboard burned like a brand. Jamie Lin dribbled near the top of the arc, breath ragged, sweat pouring down his chin. His lips parted, gasping as his eyes darted. (Theyre suffocating us...) (That damn Ethan reads everything and Lucas... he plays like a predator now.) He glanced at the clock 2 minutes left. Desperation. Jamie called for a quick high screen. Anwar moved up, but before the screen even landed, Ethan slipped under it. "Shit" Jamie muttered, suddenly flinging a side pass toward the wing. Darnell Fox, the ace of the Portsmouth Vultures, caught it. He paused. Tight grip. Heavy shoulders. Eyes blazing. Darnells thoughts surged like a storm: "(Im the ace. Im supposed to carry. Im supposed to dominate not get humiliated like this.)" "(How the hell are these guys doing this to us...? How are kids like Lucas and Ethan outplaying me?)" He squared up. Lucas Graves was guarding him now calm, balanced, unblinking. Darnell snapped the ball low jab-step hard dribble left. Lucas mirrored. Darnell bumped spun powered into the post. Fadeaway jumper. Lucas timed it perfectly. Fingertips brushed the ball. Tip. The shot clanked again off the back rim. Rebound Brandon Young, again a mountain in the paint. Ethan was already moving. Brandon lobbed it forward, and Ethan caught it in motion mid-stride, eyes scanning. Silas Green and Rico tried to backpedal. Too slow. Ethan froze for a split-second then burst between them with a ghost-like glide. Eurostep left, right finish. Buzzer from the scorers table. Timeout Portsmouth. Score: 98C49. .. On the Vultures bench, Coach Ryland slammed his clipboard down. "This isnt just a loss this is a massacre." Jamie collapsed onto the bench, towel over his head, gasping. He didnt say anything just watched the scoreboard. Darnell stood frozen near the paint. Fists clenched. Jaw tight. (Theyre not just strong... they broke us.) .... In the stands, Miho Park tilted his head, still watching. Jun Seo whispered, "Hes on another level now, huh?" Miho didnt blink. "Not just him." "That whole team... theyre waking up." .. Jamie Lin sat hunched on the bench, his hands over his mouth, elbows on his knees. His chest rose and fell with each breath, trying to calm the chaos in his mind. (How did it fall apart this fast...? How did we end up here...?) His teammates beside him Silas, Rico, even Anwar were silent. Heads low. Shoulders dropped. Across the court, the Vorpal Basket bench buzzed with restrained energy. Coach Fred Mason, despite his usual lethargy, stood with a towel over his shoulder and a clipboard in hand, the first time in this entire game he looked remotely like a coach. Ethan Albarado stood at half-court, hands on hips, jersey soaked through. His yellow hair stuck to his forehead, his breath calm. He glanced across the court at the opposing bench. At Jamie. At Darnell. And finally at the scoreboard. (This... is what victory feels like.) Darnell Fox hadnt moved since the last play. He stood frozen under the rim, his eyes staring at the net the one that just let Ethans shot glide through like it belonged. Back to Jamies breath fogged the air in front of him. Timeout clock ticking down. Sweat dripping from his brow. But it wasnt fatigue that weighed on him. It was helplessness. And the bitter taste of irrelevance. (Tskk... Ethan... who exactly are you?) He looked up just slightly watching the golden-haired point guard from across the court. Ethan Albarado. That name... meant nothing before today. Now, it felt monumental. Then Coach Ryland called out something a rotation, maybe but Jamie didnt hear it. His thoughts were spiraling. The scoreboard read: Score: 98C49. But that wasnt what haunted him. It was how they got there. Every play. Every steal. Every pass from Ethan perfectly timed, perfectly placed. Every cut from Lucas, fast and untraceable. Even Evan Coopers vision had sharpened in the second half. The whole team had transformed. (And we... we cracked.) He looked down the bench at Darnell. The "Ace." Their weapon. But even Darnell was still. Breathing heavy. Sweat glistening off his shoulders. Staring at the floor like it had all the answers. (We cant win.) (Not by force.) He clenched his fists. (So what do I do...?) His mind ran through the options. No. Not options, desperation. Press full court? No Ethan broke that like it was nothing. Double Lucas? Didnt work. Zone? Already shredded. Delay game? Waste time? For what? (Theyre not just better today. Theyre... playing a different game.) A cold drop of sweat rolled down Jamies cheek. His throat was dry, heart pounding. Then A whisper of memory. A lesson. Something his grandfather told him once, during summer training in Taipei. "When the board crumbles under your weight stop looking for answers. Start being the question." Jamie blinked. (Be the question...) Slowly, his head lifted. He looked at Rico. Then Silas. Then finally at Darnell who finally met his eyes. Jamie nodded. (Lets drag them into chaos. If we cant play chess... well flip the board.) The buzzer sounded. Timeout over. Jamie stood. Taller. Firmer. No longer spiraling. He walked past Coach Ryland, murmuring only two words: "Lets gamble." Coach Ryland didnt stop him. He didnt need to. The look in Jamies eyes said it all. The Eastgate Wildcats were done playing by the rules. And now... They were about to flip the game. To be continue Chapter 126 - 113: Cornered Kings Chapter 126: Chapter 113: Cornered Kings Score: 98C49 | 4th Quarter The arena lights burned hot. The crowd hummed with restless anticipation caught between awe and sympathy. Jamie Lin clapped for the ball. Fox inbounded quickly a bounce to Jamie and immediately, Jamie snapped a pass to Darnell. "CORNER!!" Jamie barked, voice sharp, commanding. Darnell Fox caught the pass near the wing. Sweat matted his short hair to his forehead. His eyes bloodshot from frustration flicked to the left corner, where Jamie was already sprinting into position. (Corner play... Is this gonna work now, Jamie?) He passed it back. Jamie caught the ball and took a hard dribble baseline. Lucas shadowed him instantly. Quick steps. Reading hips. But Jamie wasnt trying to break past not yet. He kicked it back to Darnell. Then cut. Fast. Like a blur. A give-and-go? No Ethan switched. Too fast. Jamie stopped short. Pivoted. Lucas adjusted eyes flicking to Jamies footwork. Then it happened. Jamie flared outward toward the corner again, pretending to look for a three-point shot. Jamie said, "Im gonna make even a god bleed." Ethan glanced toward the arc, having heard Jamies words. He looked at Jamie and said, "What?" And thats when Darnell fired the pass not to Jamie but to Rico Harrow who had slipped behind the defense toward the top of the key. Catch. Release. Three. Splash. Score: 98C52. The arena stirred. A flicker of life. A gasp of belief. Vorpals bench didnt flinch but Louie... He blinked. (Misdirection. Delayed corner slip.) He grinned. (Jamies not done yet.) Meanwhile, Jamie clenched his fists near the sideline, watching the ball drop through. (Come on. Just once... just crack a little.) Coach Ryland called out, "Keep it sharp! Read and adjust!" Brandon retrieved the ball, handed it to Evan but this time, Jamie was already moving. No more waiting. No more reacting. He pressed full-court, not as a strategy but as a signal. This wasnt about chasing the win anymore. This was about making the gods of this court bleed. Ethan caught the pass cleanly from Evan, turning into the half-court with that same fluid control that had stunned the arena minutes earlier. The ball snapped against the hardwood with rhythm one bounce, two and then: Darnell Fox. He stepped into Ethans path with fire in his chest and shadows under his eyes. Ethans brows raised slightly. (What is this strategy?) He scanned quickly. Jamie wasnt back on him. No Jamie was guarding Lucas now, pressing tight, forcing him away from the wing. (Theyre switching off-ball pressure... Thats new. Full denial. No help. One-on-one isolation?) Darnells legs were braced wide, arms out, sweat dripping from his chin. His voice low and hoarse from yelling all game: "Youre not slipping past me this time." Ethan didnt speak. He didnt smirk. He just stared. And then he dribbled low left hand fast. Darnell reacted slid left but Ethan stopped on a dime. Spin. Right shoulder brushed past Darnells chest but Darnell stayed glued. The crowd rose again. A clash. Ethan pushed. Darnell bodied. No whistle. They were chest-to-chest now, and Ethans eyes flicked up: Jamie was still locking Lucas. Ryan Taylor had been sealed off the lane by Anwar. (So thats it... Theyre going all-in. No help defense. A pride defense.) Ethan chuckled under his breath. "You think prides gonna stop me?" Darnell bared his teeth. "No. Im gonna stop you." Pump fake. Darnell flinched barely. But it was enough. Ethan exploded low, brushing Darnells hip with his shoulder and with that small opening, he drove left. Two steps. Stop. Turn. Fadeaway mid-range. Smooth as silk. Darnell turned midair hand rising too late. Swish. Score: 100C52. The gym thundered again. Jamie gritted his teeth. Darnell landed, fists clenched. And Ethan? He didnt celebrate. Didnt smile. He pointed at Jamie Lin as he walked backward on defense. "If youre gonna make the gods bleed... you better bring a sharper knife." Jamies eye twitched. (Then I will.) .. Rico slapped the ball and inbounded it fast. Jamie Lin caught it in motion a blur of movement at the top of the key. But as he dribbled forward, his vision blurred for just a moment not from exhaustion, but from the echo in his mind. "If youre gonna make the gods bleed... you better bring a sharper knife." (Sharp enough to cut you down, Ethan...) Jamie clenched his jaw, his steps sharper now. The bounce of the ball against the hardwood was no longer rhythm it was a drumbeat of vengeance. He called out: "Rico! Slide baseline!" Rico sprinted around the wing, dragging Lucas out of the paint. Silas Green cut inward, flashing just long enough to make Ryan hesitate. Jamie crossed over left to right eyes locked on Ethan standing further back in help defense, analyzing again. (I know what youre thinking. Youre calculating. Watching for patterns. But Im not the same player from the first half.) Jamie drove. Hard. Evan Cooper stepped in to cut him off. Spin. Jamies pivot was clean, sudden Evan stumbled half a step and Jamie slipped through like a blade between ribs. Darnell, on the corner, shouted: "Corner kick! Im free!" Jamie saw him but only glanced. He kept it. One dribble. Two. Brandon Young rose to block arms wide, body strong. But Jamie didnt slow down. (Sharp enough... sharp enough...) He twisted mid-air, leaned back, and under Brandons reach a scoop layup kissed glass and dropped in. Score: 100C54. The crowd gasped again. This wasnt over. As Jamie jogged back, he passed Ethan. Didnt look at him, just spoke: "Then watch carefully, God." "Cause this knifes still carving." ... Ethans lips curled into a smirk. "Hoh..." His voice was soft almost amused, but there was no mockery in it. Just a calm flicker of acknowledgment. (So, youre still pushing. Even when the scoreboard screams surrender... Youve got guts, Jamie.) He walked toward the inbound line. Evan was already there, bouncing the ball in his hands, a question in his eyes. Ethan didnt say anything. He just raised a single finger. One. And Evan nodded. (Alright. One more step ahead.) Brandon called from the backcourt: "Theyre pressing again!" But Ethan didnt rush. He let the pressure come to him. Jamie was there quick, coiled like a spring eyes sharp, posture low. Ethan caught the inbound, and Jamie immediately reached. Swipe. Ethan tilted not dodging, but shifting weight. Letting Jamie overcommit. (Another Clarity Card: Active.) Time slowed just enough. Enough for Ethan to see Jamies shoulder lean too far in. His back foot not planted. His angle off. Ethan spun not flashy, not wild just clean. Clinical. He stepped past the trap. Burst of acceleration. "Switch! SWITCH!" Rico yelled, but it was too late. Ethan was already across half-court. Lucas slid into the corner. Evan filled the wing. Brandon and Ryan sealed the paint like twin towers. But Ethan? Ethan stopped at the elbow. One step past the free throw line. (I could pass.) (But not this time.) He rose up. One smooth, calm motion. "Ethans shooting!" someone screamed in the stands. Jamie turned but too late. The shot was already airborne. Nothing but net. Score: 102C54. Ethan exhaled as he landed, then turned calmly eyes locking on Jamie again. And this time, he spoke first: "You brought a knife..." "But Im playing with time." .. Meanwhile On Bench Louie Gee Davas leaned forward, hands on his knees, eyes wide like saucers. "Bro..." he whispered. "He didnt just cook him... he saute?ed his soul." Coonie Smith, who was usually brash, just leaned back against the chair, one hand over his mouth, the other pointing at Ethan like he had just seen a miracle. "He is really goddamn good." Coach Fred, shook his head slowly, muttering: "Right like watching a damn prophecy unfold." Kai Mendoza, just stared. No words. Just clenched his jaw and slowly started clapping. "Hes HIM..." he finally said under his breath. "Hes really HIM... The embodiment of Genius" Jeremy Park, nearly dropped his water bottle. "Did you see that step into the elbow? Likelike he timed the entire defense collapsing." He turned to Aiden beside him. "How does he do that?" Aiden White, one of the original starters, grinned slowly. He nudged Jeremy. "Hes not playing basketball anymore..." "Hes conducting it." To be continue Chapter 127 - 114: Set your heart ablaze Chapter 127: Chapter 114: Set your heart ablaze Scoreboard: Vorpal Basket 102 C Portsmouth Vultures 54 Time Remaining: 1:38 | 4th Quarter The air was thick with tension. Not from uncertainty But from certainty. The crowd didnt cheer. Didnt shout. They just watched, silent, holding their breath. All eyes locked on the court. On him. Ethan Albarado. He stood still, near half-court, like a conductor before the final note. The ball rested against his right hip, fingers loose on the leather, head bowed slightly. Sweat traced clean lines down his face. His yellow hair stuck to his brow, glinting under the stadium lights. His chest rose and fell with calm, even rhythm. Too calm. No one scores twelve straight in under two minutes and breathes like this. But Ethan wasnt anyone. Across from him, Jamie Lin took slow steps forward, arms low, body tense, eyes never leaving Ethans. The scoreboard loomed above them like a monument. The Vultures had already been buried. This was the eulogy. "Youre not normal," Jamie muttered, voice barely above a whisper, eyes narrowed. Ethans eyes gleamed. He tilted his head, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Neither are you," he replied, voice steady. "But I didnt come here to be normal." He looked up, gaze like steel. "I came here to change my destiny." ... On the sidelines, Coach Fred Mason stood with a towel slung across his shoulder, arms crossed. He didnt shout. Didnt motion for a play. He just watched. Even he knew. This wasnt his team anymore. It was Ethans. .. Ethans fingers curled over the ball. Then Dribble. A single bounce, echoing like a starting gun. The court rippled like paper being turned, a page revealing its next line. Darnell shifted at the wing, prepping to hedge. Rico hesitated, caught between switching and staying. His weight betrayed him left foot slightly too deep. Anwar braced beneath the basket, hands up, eyes darting between lanes. But Ethan? He didnt even blink. "(Another Clarity Card activate,)" he whispered in his mind. (System: Clarity Active. 60 seconds. Perception Enhanced. Decision-Making Elevated.) ... Everything slowed. The ball spun like a wheel in molasses. Every breath, every heartbeat, a drumbeat in his ears. He saw the faint tremor in Darnells knee, favoring his right side. He saw the twitch in Ricos fingers about to gamble for a steal. He saw Jamie blink a heartbeat too long. A delay. A crack in the defense. There it is. ... Ethan moved. No hesitation. A sharp jab-step to the left, Jamie twitched. Then Ethan was gone. Gone. A blur of yellow and shadow slicing through the heart of the defense like a whisper. Jamie spun too late. Darnell lunged too high. Anwar shifted too slow. But Ethan didnt go up. He kicked out. A one-handed, no-look whip-pass to the right corner like he knew who was there before he even moved. Lucas Graves. Feet set. Eyes locked. Catch. Rise. Release. The ball soared. The net hissed. SPLASH. ... Scoreboard: 105C54. And the silence? It broke. Not in cheers. Not in noise. But in awe. Ethan backpedaled, expression unreadable, eyes never leaving the arc of the ball as it fell. Then Just the faintest nod. As if to say: "This is how it was always supposed to be." .. On the Vultures bench, Marcos slumped into his seat, towel draped over his head. His voice cracked as he muttered: "Hes not fighting us anymore..." "Hes fighting history." ... Back on Court 1:00 Remaining | 4th Quarter Score: Vorpal Basket 105 C Portsmouth Vultures 54 The game was no longer about basketball. It was something deeper now a war between belief and memory, a quiet rebellion against fate. Ethan Albarado stood near the arc, walking backward toward the half-court line. His jersey clung to him, drenched. His legs trembled slightly not from fatigue, but from something heavier. The weight of knowing this was never supposed to happen. He raised one hand slowly, pointing a single finger toward the ceiling. "One minute," he said, barely above a whisper. "Lets finish this." It wasnt a command. It was a prayer. A moment later, Lucas Graves jogged up beside him, chest heaving, eyes burning with adrenaline and something far older. He looked at Ethan not the boy from their bench-warming days, not the quiet student but the warrior who had chosen to rewrite a destiny already carved in stone. Lucas smirked faintly, his voice rough from shouting and heartache. "Yeah..." he said, nodding once. "Lets win this. For real this time." He glanced at the scoreboard, then back at Ethan. And for just a flicker of a second, his expression faltered. Just a little. Because beneath all the fire in his veins, Lucas remembered too. They bumped fists quietly. Without showmanship. Without words. Because they didnt need them. (This is no longer about what they expected from us.) (This is about who weve become.) (And how we refused to stay forgotten.) ... On the bench, Louie Gee sat with a towel around his shoulders, tears drying at the corners of his eyes. His chest rose and fell slowly, the kind of breath you take when everything inside you is cracking open and being rebuilt. Coonie Smith wiped his nose with his sleeve, trying and failing to look unaffected. Kai leaned forward, eyes locked on the court, voice low and trembling. "They changed it... the loser Vorpal Basket before is no more." Coonie smiled through his teeth, gripping the edge of the bench like it was the only thing keeping him grounded . "Nah..." he muttered. "They didnt just change it." He paused, the moment sinking in. "They made a new story." Aiden White, arms folded tight across his chest, stared out at the court like he was witnessing something sacred. Something mythic. "Theyre not just winning the game..." he whispered. "...Theyre proving we belong." (All of us. The benchwarmers. The afterthoughts. The ones no one look over.) (This isnt just about a scoreboard. Its about legacy. Its about finally being seen.) And for the first time in what felt like forever... They didnt feel like background characters. They felt like a team. They were Vorpal Basket reborn. .... Back to Ethan. Jamie Lin walked the ball up for the Vultures shoulders stiff, face blank. He wasnt even looking at the basket anymore. Just at Ethan. They locked eyes and something in Jamie broke quietly. Ethan nodded once. A silent respect between two kids trying to be more than what life allowed them to be. (This... is what conviction means,) Ethan thought, his golden eyes locked on Jamie Lin across the court. Sweat trailed down his cheek, but he didnt blink. Jamie stood with the ball in his hands, chest rising and falling with exhaustion, but his grip never wavered. (Even if the scoreboard says they never stood a chance. Yet... they still wont give up.) The crowd had stopped chanting for points. They werent looking at the time anymore. They were watching something far rarer. Heart. Pride. Conviction. From both sides. From the so-called underdogs who refused to bend to fate... And from the broken kings, trying desperately to reclaim their crown. The final minute began to bleed away. Tick. Tick. Tick. A silence blanketed the arena. Not the absence of sound but a reverent, breathless stillness. As if the gods of the game had paused, too, watching what these kids were doing with time that wasnt supposed to be theirs. Ethan stepped forward, knees aching, heart pounding like a war drum. He looked again at Jamie, who didnt retreat. Jamie stood there, knees bent slightly, ready. And thats when Ethan allowed himself a small, tired smile. (It looks like were the villain... and theyre the protagonist, huh?) He took a slow breath in and dribbled once. One echo. One heartbeat. Then he spoke, not with cockiness... but with respect. "Come on, Jamie." "Show me why youre still standing." Because the miracle wasnt just winning. The miracle was not folding. The miracle was being here, together rewriting the story. One breath. One second. One play left. [Then Jamie shouted] "ARGHHH!!! ETHAN!!!" Jamies voice cracked as he roared from the depths of his lungs not in hatred, but in desperation. Not in defeat... But in defiance. His shoes scraped against the floor as he exploded off the dribble, charging at Ethan like a man chasing something that had already been taken from him. Sweat flung off his face. His eyes bloodshot and wild were locked onto the boy in front of him. Lucas, standing near the three-point line, heard the cry echo across the gym. He turned, startled, eyes widening as he saw Jamie tear toward Ethan. (Hes still fighting...) Lucas thought, the ball resting in his hands. (Even now...) A wave of something twisted in his chest admiration, guilt, maybe even sympathy. Because in that moment, Jamie wasnt the point guard of the Portsmouth Vultures. He wasnt the rival. He was just a boy. A boy screaming into the wind, trying to grab something fate had long stolen. And Ethan standing at the top of the key didnt flinch. His eyes remained steady. His stance solid. "I hear you," Ethan whispered. "But can you still reach me?" Jamie drove in crossing once, then spinning right. But Ethan was already there. Their shoes collided. Their shoulders brushed. Their breaths clashed like swords. And in that one collision... There were no teams. No audience. Just two souls with something to prove. The gym felt smaller. The lights felt dimmer. The moment stretched into something sacred. Lucas tightened his grip on the ball, watching. (This... is basketball.) (Not for fame. Not for victory. But for pride. For meaning.) He stepped up, ready to move. Ready to play. Ready to carry that fire. Because when one heart burns it spreads. And right now, Jamie Lins heart was setting the whole court ablaze. To be continue Chapter 128 - 115: The end of quarter Chapter 128: Chapter 115: The end of quarter The hardwood groaned beneath their feet. Jamie spun again a desperate, beautiful whirl of muscle and spirit. Ethan slid with him, like a shadow that had known this rhythm all along. Their bodies collided for half a second chest to chest, sweat to sweat, will to will. "Tch...!" Jamie gritted his teeth. (Hes still reading me... even now?!) But he didnt stop. He refused to stop. "ONE MORE TIME!!" Jamie roared, digging deep for a burst of speed that wasnt left in his legs but in his heart. He slipped just half a step past Ethan. For a moment just a moment the rim was in sight. His foot planted. He rose. A floater. High. Arcing. Fragile. The ball danced in the air like hope barely holding on. Ethan turned his head, watching it rise, watching it hang. (He got past me...) But Ethan didnt jump. He didnt flinch. He just watched. Lucas, standing at the wing, whispered aloud: "Please... just this one..." Brandon held his breath. Even Coach Mason went silent. The ball kissed the front rim Rolled Hung Fell. Swish. 105C56. No eruption of cheers. No chants. Just a thunderous silence filled with goosebumps and awe. Jamie landed on one foot, stumbling forward with his hands on his knees, chest heaving. His arms trembled, fingers twitching. (I scored...) (But we lose...) He looked up at Ethan eyes glassy, but burning. And Ethan... smiled. Just faintly. Ethan stepped forward and held out a hand. Jamie stared at it. The gym... was still. Then, slowly, Jamie took it. Their hands locked calloused, rough, battle-worn. Two warriors. Two sides of the same love. Basketball. Ethan Albarado held his grip firm, steady. Their fingers slowly parted. And in that space between palms, something unspoken passed. Respect. Pain. Growth. "That was a sharp knife," Ethan said, voice low, but honest. The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. Jamie gave a breathless chuckle, almost a cough. "Yeah... but it took me too long to sharpen it..." he muttered, looking down at the floor, then back up again eyes clearer than theyd been the entire game. .. The scoreboard glowed above them in cold finality. Vorpal Basket C 105 Portsmouth Vultures C 56 But the numbers... felt distant. Because what just happened went beyond a win or loss. Ethan turned slowly, walking toward the Vorpal bench, yellow hair clinging to his forehead, jersey clinging to his back. With every step, he took in the silence of the gym. Not a silence of shame but of reverence. He passed Lucas, who looked at Jamie with a mixture of awe and sympathy. Lucas muttered, more to himself than anyone, "That guy... he didnt fold. Even after all that." Ethan exhaled deeply. (This... is what conviction means.) (Even when the scoreboard screams at you to give up you still fight. You still try. You still believe.) He looked over his shoulder one last time, gaze falling on Jamie, who was now surrounded by his team tired, beaten, but upright. (Even if they lost...) (They never lost their will.) Then the thought hit him, raw and real: (It almost feels like... we were the villains. And they were the protagonists all along.) He didnt say it aloud. He didnt need to. From the stands, the crowd finally began to applaud. Not the raucous, booming cheers of a blowout win. But slow. Respectful. Honest. Claps that honored both sides of the story. On the Vorpal bench, Louie Gee had stood, arms crossed, nodding slowly. Coonie Smith sat with wide eyes, whispering, "That was real basketball..." Kai Mendoza blinked, staring down at his hands. "I wanna be like that... even in the worst moment, still giving everything." Aiden White simply grinned. "They got blown out... and I still respect the hell out of them." And Jeremy Park whispered, "Thats the type of guy wholl be back stronger. Next time... it wont be so easy." Coach Fred Mason, towel still hanging around his neck, sat down with a heavy thud and scratched his tummy. "...Huh." He blinked slowly. "Did we win?" The arena lights softened as the teams lined up to shake hands. Ethan was the first to reach out. Jamies palm met his. Their eyes locked no tension, no pride. Just mutual respect forged in battle. "Ethan," Jamie said quietly. "Next time... Ill bring more than a knife." Ethan smiled. "Then Ill bring armor." They laughed. And behind them, the crowd stood again not for the team who won. But for both sides who gave them a story worth remembering. .... As the line of players moved down the court, hands slapped palms, brief nods exchanged, tired legs dragging two figures approached each other with quiet weight. Darnell Fox. Lucas Graves. Both had sweat dripping from their brows. Both had fire that hadnt quite cooled. They stopped in front of one another, a breath of tension lingering between them. Darnells expression was tight not angry, but lit with a simmering defiance. He extended his hand, rough and calloused. Lucas took it firmly. For a second, their grips held longer than necessary. "You win this time," Darnell said, voice low, like a storm waiting to return. His eyes didnt blink. "But next time... it wont be easy." Lucas didnt flinch. His fingers tightened. "I dont want it to be easy," he replied. His tone was calm, but steady. "Push us harder. Well be ready." Darnells jaw clenched... then he let out a short huff of a laugh. Almost amused. (This kid... hes got that spark.) He finally let go of the handshake and gave Lucas a single nod. "Good game," Darnell said. It was honest. Maybe the most honest thing hed said all season. Lucas gave a nod back, a small smile forming at the edge of his lips. "Good fight," he replied. Behind them, the last of the teams finished their handshakes. The scoreboard flickered one last time. The gym began to empty, one slow footstep at a time. But that handshake that exchange lingered like the echo of a final buzzer that hadnt quite stopped ringing. Both of them walked away with something more than a win or a loss. A promise. A challenge. A rematch... written in silence. ... The gym buzzed with leftover adrenaline. Reporters gathered in small packs, notebooks open, cameras flashing under the court lights still humming overhead. The scoreboard behind them read: Vorpal Basket 102 Portsmouth Vultures 54 Local Trials C Qualifier: COMPLETE Some students stared blankly at the scoreboard. 105C56. They couldnt believe it. Vorpal Basket, the team everyone mocked, the joke of the district for years, had just destroyed one of the most feared lineups the Portsmouth Vultures. It was like watching a graveyard rise and dance under the lights. Cameras flashed. Microphones clicked on. One empty chair. One already straining under the weight of a red-faced Coach Fred Mason. He dabbed at his forehead with a sweat-stained handkerchief, chest heaving, shirt untucked. The cameras were already rolling. A reporter cleared her throat. "Coach Mason, congratulations on advancing to the Division Cup. How do you feel about the teams performance today?" Coach Fred wheezed, eyes darting to the side where Ethan Albarado stood just outside the camera frame, arms crossed. "Uh... y-yeah, the boys played great," Fred stammered, giving a nervous laugh. "That press strategy was all part of, uh, my adjustments. Yeah." Ethan raised an eyebrow from the shadows. Lucas, beside him, stifled a snort. (Unbelievable... hes taking credit again.) Another reporter leaned in. "And what about that fourth-quarter run?" Coach Fred blinked rapidly. "That, uh, that was a collaborative decision, of course. We let the players develop leadership. Builds character!" Ethans voice suddenly broke through as he stepped up beside the table, grabbing the second mic. "If I may," he said calmly, voice steady, yellow eyes reflecting the camera lights, "we run things as a team. Everyone has a role. Coach Fred signs the papers." Fred Mason choked on air. "I-I mean, yes! Paperworks critical. Forms, you know. League compliance..." The reporters all turned their cameras on Ethan now. Ethan Albarado. And beside him, slightly awkward but eyes burning Lucas Graves. "Well." a reporter from the local sports channel called out. "The entire gym just witnessed something unbelievable. Your first win, how does it feel? To win and in such dominant fashion?" Lucas looked down at his shoes for a second, then spoke quietly into the mic. "Its not about proving anyone wrong anymore," he said. "Its about proving we belong." The room stilled. Ethan stepped forward next, gaze sharp, voice unwavering. "We were written off before the game even started." He looked directly into the camera. "Everyone expected us to lose. Just like always. They call us the zero-win team. The warm-up squad. But not anymore." A murmur moved through the crowd. Reporters scribbled faster. "Was this a fluke?" another reporter asked cautiously. "You beat a seeded team. Some people are already calling it a miracle. What do you say to that?" Ethan smiled faint, but there. "A miracle?" He glanced at Lucas. "If working your body to the point of collapse every night is a miracle... then yeah. Maybe it was." Lucas gave a rare grin. "Lucas, you were practically invisible at the start of the season," another journalist said. "Now youre being called the dark horse MVP of this game. What changed?" Lucas pushed his glasses up and answered without hesitation. "Someone believed in me." He didnt need to say it. Cause everyone already knew who is it. ... From the sidelines, the rest of Vorpal Basket huddled together, wide-eyed, half-smiling, still not quite processing what had happened. Louie leaned over to Coonie and whispered, "Bro... are we famous now?" Coonie, who had once given up on even warming up during games, nodded slowly. "I think we just became real team." Kai Mendoza sat frozen. Aiden White blinked like he was waking up from a dream. Jeremy Park wiped his eyes for the fourth time, just to make sure the scoreboard was still real. 105C56. A team that never won. Now advancing to the Division Cup. ... Back at the press table, Coach Fred Mason sat with a towel over his shoulder, barely holding in his sweat. His mic was off again. Nobody cared what he had to say. Ethan turned to the reporters one last time. "This was just step one." "Weve got more to show." The gym filled with a hum again. Not laughter. Not pity. Respect. For the first time... Vorpal Basket had become a name worth remembering. ..... Unknown Location The room was dim. Curtains drawn. Walls lined with silent television screens some playing footage from the Vorpal vs. Vultures game, others flickering between maps, drug trial graphs, and corporate surveillance data. A long obsidian table sat in the center. Seven seats. Seven figures. The scent of expensive cigars hung faintly in the air, but no one smoked. Not today. At the head of the table, an old man sat with fingers steepled. His eyesmilky gray from age were still sharp. Watching. Calculating. "Tsk..." he muttered, voice dry like cracking leaves. "It looks like the team Vorpal is advancing..." To his left, a man burst into laughter. He was in his early 40s, broad-shouldered, his maroon suit hugging muscle like armor. Gold cufflinks winked at the candlelight. "Hahahahaha! Are you afraid of them?" said Drew, leaning back with a smirk. "A bunch of street kids who got lucky?" On the far end, a stern woman scoffed. Her black bobbed hair was streaked with silver, her posture militaristic. "Shut up, Drew. Dont disrespect our leader." Drew turned his grin toward her. "Old woman... Madame Vena, if not for your stern attitude, I might bring you to my bed even if you are in your 50s." "You bastard," Vena snapped, cold and quick. Tension sparked. But a man in a gray blazer, calm and composed, spoke before it could escalate. "...Charles and Greg are already dead. I just dont want you two to end up killing each other." Vena narrowed her eyes. "Dont worry. I wont die. Just him." "Enough!" The old mans voice silenced the room. It was a sound they all obeyed. His eyes flicked toward the bespectacled man beside him Jerry, who leaned forward with a predators grin. "Jerry, whats going on with the drugs Charles enhanced using Gregs old resources?" Jerry, a man in his 40s with slicked-back hair and thin-rimmed glasses, chuckled under his breath. "Fascinating, really. Street-level popularity is climbing. Kids are calling it Phase Boost... they love the side effects. But we need to be cautious." He tapped his fingers twice against the table. "That bastard, Romanov Graves, is still investigating the old site..." The old mans eye twitched at the name. "Romanov Graves..." he growled. "That woman... CEO of BACBasketball Asian Company. Tsk. The Graves always complicate things. Just like her husband did..." A younger man in his early 30s, wearing a sharp dark green jacket, leaned forward with an oily smile. "Now, now, dont worry about that, sir. Im sure Graves wont find anything. Not unless we let her." But the woman next to him, around the same age, chimed in her voice dry and clinical. "If shes that capable, do you really think she wont find out eventually?" The room fell quiet. Only the faint sounds of a buzzer on the highlight reel in the background played Ethans final shot. The crowds scream. The end of the game. Vorpal Basket: 105 Portsmouth Vultures: 56 The old man closed his eyes, fingers tapping softly. "Then its time we prepare the next stage." He looked up. "Drew, prepare the Shadows." "Vena, pull the surveillance tighter on BAC." "Jerry, move Phase Boost to Test Group C and erase Site 17." His voice dropped to a low growl. "If Graves wont stop, then well make sure one of her love ones will disappear." The room nodded in silence. And just like that... the game behind the game had begun. To be continue Chapter 129 - 116: Thunderhawks vs Ridgewood Lynx Chapter 129: Chapter 116: Thunderhawks vs Ridgewood Lynx July 29, 2010 The gym buzzed like a hornets nest. Parents, students, and scouts packed the Ridgewood Middle bleachers, their chatter rising above the rhythmic bounce of basketballs echoing through the court. The glossy hardwood gleamed under the lights. The sharp squeak of sneakers, the crisp sound of net swishes, and the occasional boom of a backboard slap set the stage. Coaches barked orders. Managers scrambled with clipboards. The energy was electric. This wasnt just a game. It was Step 1 of a journey toward national glory. The Thunderhawks stood across from the Ridgewood Lynx, black and gold uniforms shining with pride. They were last years defending national champions, a team forged through pressure, pain, and perseverance. But Ridgewood was no underdog either. They were the District 14 titans, known for precision plays and cold-blooded execution. Many thought theyd take down the Thunderhawks here and now. No one expected an upset. Except the girls wearing black and gold. ... Coach Lory Moore knelt in the huddle, fists clenched, voice burning like a wildfire. "Weve trained for this. Weve bled for this. Play Thunderhawks basketballfast, fearless, and full-hearted. Leave. Nothing. Behind." His eyes locked with Charlotte Graves, the point guard, the heartbeat of the team. Charlotte nodded. Her jaw tightened. "Theyre not ready for us. They think were a warm-up. Well show them who we are." Her hands curled into fists as she stood. This is our shot. This is my shot. I wont let it slip. .... Tip-off Center court. Carmen "The Tiger" Delgado, Thunderhawks enforcer, crouched low and focused, facing Ridgewoods 61" shot-blocking machine, Brielle Thompson. They exchanged a glare as the referee stepped in with the ball. Tweet! The whistle pierced the air. The ball launched upward. Carmen exploded with a spring-loaded leaphigher, faster. TAP. Thunderhawks ball. "Lets go!" Charlotte roared, already on the move as she caught the tip. In a blink, the black-and-gold blur was slicing through the court. Izzy Moreno sprinted to the right wing, fingers raised. Charlotte drove left. A fake. Two defenders bit. She spun out, cross court no look. WHIP. Izzy caught the ball clean feet set, form perfect. Release. SWISH. "Bang!" the announcer howled over the mic. "Izzy Moreno for three!" Thats how we start. Charlotte smirked, falling back into a defensive stance. The Thunderhawks bench exploded in cheers. But Ridgewood didnt flinch. Their captain, Maya Frees, moved with calm poise, dribbling the ball up with robotic rhythm. Her every motion was deliberateeyes locked on the shifting defense. "Set two!" she called out, raising her arm in a triangle signal. Her teammates scatteredthen reformed with eerie synchronization. Screen left. Zoe Kim darted behind Brielles massive frame, leaving Jasmine trailing a half-step behind. Charlotte saw it too late. Curl. Corner. Catch. Zoe rose. SWISH. The crowd erupted behind the Ridgewood bench. Clean. Cold. Deadly. Charlotte clicked her tongue. Thats their rhythm. Like clockwork. Efficient. But lets see how they do when we speed it up. As Charlotte walked the ball up the court again, Coach Lory clapped once. "Push tempo!" he barked. Charlotte grinned. "Time to wake them up." She crossed half-court and took offdriving right, dragging two defenders. Carmen slipped under the rim. Bounce pass. Power layup. THUMP. Net. No whistle. Just two more points. ... [Ethan side] Thunderhawks 5 C Ridgewood 3. The scoreboard blinked, and the gym lights reflected off polished floors like the calm before a storm. Up in the bleachers, away from the roar of the crowd, Lucas Graves sat motionless, hands clenched between his knees. His eyes didnt leave the court. They didnt blink. Beside him, a figure leaned back, legs crossed, hood down, Ethan Albarado. Calm, confident, and unreadable. Charlottes voice echoed faintly from the court below. "Time to wake them up." Lucas exhaled slowly, his voice quiet but tight. "Sis..." Ethan turned slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching with a small smirk. His gaze drifted toward the court, where Charlotte darted across defenders like a shadow. "Shes gonna be fine," he said without hesitation. "Theyre the defending champs. And besides..." Lucas turned his head slowly, his gold-flecked eyes locking with Ethans. Ethans voice dropped, cool and absolute. "I trained her enough to defeat every team." Every. Single. One. Lucass gaze returned to the floor. Charlotte drove baseline and kicked the ball to Lena for a floater. SWISH. Thunderhawks 7 C Ridgewood 3. The crowd jumped. Ridgewoods bench yelled out defensive calls. But Charlotte? She didnt even glance toward the scoreboard. "Lets lock in!" she barked. Her voice rang out louder than the noise. Ethan leaned forward now, elbows on knees, watching like a hunter. (Shes sharper than before. More ruthless. Good.) Lucas nodded slowly, a mix of worry and pride in his face. (She really has changed. Shes not just playing for the win... shes chasing something more.) .... The buzzer buzzed faintly overhead, signaling the start of the first quarter and the Thunderhawks were already charging forward with the urgency of a storm. Charlotte Gravess eyes scanned the court like a hawk, her mind calculating every possible movement before it even happened. She dribbled hard at the top of the key, her fingers gripping the ball like a lifeline. Around her, the Thunderhawks moved like clockwork, a symphony of precision and aggression. Izzy Moreno sprinted to the right wing, cutting past her defender with a lightning-quick jab step that left the Lynx scrambling to recover. Charlotte didnt hesitate. She flicked the ball with a sharp snap of her wristan inch-perfect pass slicing through the defense. "Catch and shoot, Izzy!" Charlotte called, voice calm but fierce. Izzy squared her shoulders and released the ball a perfect arc, a whisper through the air. The ball hit the rim and dropped in, net swishing like silk. "Bang! Thunderhawks 10, Lynx 3!" the announcers voice exploded, igniting a wave of cheers from the crowd. Charlotte sprinted back on defense, eyes narrowing as Maya Frees, the Lynx captain, grabbed the ball and began her counterattack. Mayas movement was smooth, fluid like a dancer commanding the floor. She dribbled upcourt with icy composure, surveying her options. Charlotte matched her every step, positioning herself with the patience of a seasoned predator. "Lets see what you got, Maya," Charlotte thought, a tight smile tugging at her lips. Maya passed off to Zoe Kim on the wing, who immediately called for a screen. Jasmine Ortiz, the Lynxs fiery small forward, set a solid pick. Zoe used the space to launch a quick three sharp and clean. The crowd erupted as the ball sailed through the net. Thunderhawks 10 C Ridgewood 6. Charlottes jaw clenched. The Lynx werent backing down. They were forcing the pace, daring the Thunderhawks to respond. She glanced to her left where Lena Kowalski was locked in a battle with Jasmine Ortiz. The two wing players jostled for position, each trying to gain the upper hand. Lenas eyes flashed with determination. With a sudden burst, she faked left, crossed over, and sliced to the basket. Her floater floated over the outstretched arms of Brielle Thompson, the Lynx center, and dropped softly. Charlotte caught Lenas eye and nodded. They were clicking. On the other side, Carmen "The Tiger" Delgado planted herself firmly in the paint, battling Brielle and Layla Brooks for every rebound. Her presence was a brick wallunyielding, immovable. A loose ball bounced off the rim and came straight to Carmens hands. With a powerful pivot, she spun around and launched a turnaround jumper. The ball kissed the backboard before settling through the hoop. Thunderhawks 12 C Ridgewood 6. Ridgewoods coach Tamara Lewis called a timeout. The Lynx huddled, sweat dripping, eyes burning with resolve. Back on the Thunderhawks bench, Coach Lory Moores voice was a low growl of command. "Lock down on Maya. Stop their ball movement. Push the tempo. Force turnovers." Charlotte wiped sweat from her brow and flexed her fingers. The fire inside her was just beginning to blaze. The whistle blew, and the game resumed. Maya dribbled the ball hard, trying to break through the Thunderhawks press. Charlotte pressed close, her hands twitching to steal. Suddenly, Maya drove right, breaking free for a moment, but Charlotte anticipated. She stepped in, knocking the ball loose with a crisp swipe. "Gotcha!" Charlotte thought, snatching the ball and charging forward. Izzy sprinted again to the corner, wide open. Charlotte fed her a no-look pass that landed perfectly in Izzys hands. But this time, the Lynx defense collapsed, and Zoe Kim barreled toward Izzy like a freight train. Izzy hesitated, then pulled back and dribbled hard to the baseline. With a quick spin move, she shook Zoe just enough to launch a pull-up jumper. The shot rattled the rim, but Lena was there for the reboundquick as a cat. Without hesitation, Lena pushed the ball upcourt, and Charlotte met her at the three-point line. Charlotte took a step back and released a clean jumper, her form flawless. SWISH. Thunderhawks 15 C Ridgewood 6. The crowd was electric now. Thunderhawks fans shouted, clapped, and stomped their feet like thunder rolling through the gym. But the Lynx werent done. Maya, regaining her composure, dribbled up with renewed fury. She passed to Jasmine Ortiz, who tore down the lane with explosive speed, forcing a fast-break. Charlotte sprinted back but saw Maya sprinting behind her. "Switch!" Charlotte yelled, voice slicing through the noise. Izzy slid over, meeting Jasmine head-on with fearless intensity. The two collided at the three-point line, each fighting for position. Jasmine twisted, trying to shake Izzy, but Izzys feet were glued to the floor, her defense relentless. Maya spotted the momentary hesitation and lobbed a pass over the defense to Zoe. Zoe caught it mid-air and launched a threedeadly accurate. The crowd groaned as the Lynx clawed back. Thunderhawks 15 C Ridgewood 9. Charlotte clenched her jaw, heart pounding. Theyre tougher than I thought. This isnt just a game; its a war. She gestured sharply, signaling a full-court press. The Thunderhawks surged forward, pressure like a tidal wave. Emily Tran, Ridgewoods quick backup guard, tried to thread a pass, but Charlotte anticipated, leaping to intercept. Charlotte dribbled hard, dodging defenders, pushing the pace. She whipped the ball to Carmen in the post, who backed down Brielle with powerful footwork. Carmen spun, dropped a perfect pass back to Charlotte cutting from the wing. Charlotte exploded to the basket, rising over Mayas outstretched arms for a thunderous layup. The gym erupted. Thunderhawks 17 C Ridgewood 9. Coach Tamara called timeout again. ..... [Timeout] As the Lynx huddled, Mayas face was fierce. "Were not letting them run us off the court. Defense, defense!" Back with the Thunderhawks, Coach Lory smiled and nodded to Charlotte. "Keep pushing. Play your game. Lead." Charlottes chest rose and fell, sweat streaming down her face. Her teammates circled, eyes shining with trust and hunger. "Weve got this," she breathed. "One play at a time." ..... The whistle blew for the final 30 seconds of the quarter. Ridgewood came out swinging. Layla Brooks took the ball, driving hard into the paint, battling Carmen with every inch. Charlotte slid over just in time to help, swatting Laylas shot with authority. The ball bounced out, and Brielle Thompson grabbed the rebound, immediately passing to Maya. Maya darted down the court, weaving through defenders, and launched a floater over Charlotte. The ball kissed the net. Thunderhawks 17 C Ridgewood 11. The buzzer sounded for the end of the quarter. Both teams retreated to their benches, breathing heavy, dripping sweat but eyes burning with intensity. Charlotte glanced at her teammates, a slow smile breaking across her face. "This is just the start," she thought. "Were ready for whatever comes next." ... Meanwhile Ethan Thoughts Ethans eyes never left the court, drinking in every move, every pass, every shift in momentum. "(The Thunderhawks move like a well-oiled machine. Fast, precise, and aggressive. Charlottes leadership is obvious shes not just playing; shes orchestrating)." He admired how Charlotte controlled the pace, using her vision to find teammates in perfect spots. Izzys quick shooting kept the Lynx on their toes, slicing through defenses with confidence. "(But Ridgewoods no pushover. That Maya Frees girl is smart, shes patient, knows when to push and when to slow it down. Their screens and off-ball movement are sharp, even if theyre a step behind the Thunderhawks intensity.)" Ethan noticed something else. "(The Lynx struggle when forced into tight pressure. Their ball-handling isnt as clean under the Thunderhawks full-court press. Theyre missing quick passing options when trapped too many risky dribbles that give Charlotte chances for steals.)" He frowned slightly. "(Still, Ridgewoods shooters are confident. They dont panic and keep taking those tough shots. They need to improve their interior defense, though. Carmen and Charlottes teamwork inside is dominating Lynx are getting pushed around in the paint.)" Ethans gaze sharpened as he tracked Lena and Izzy. "(The Thunderhawks wing players show great chemistry, reading each others movements before the ball even arrives. Ridgewoods defense is reactive, not proactive too slow to anticipate.)" But Ethan knew this was just the beginning. "(Theyre strong now, but if the Lynx adjust, change their pace, they could expose some weaknesses. The Thunderhawks sometimes overcommit on defense, leaving gaps for quick cuts. If Maya can exploit that, Ridgewood might claw back.)" He glanced over at Lucas. "(Charlottes got fire, but shes only as strong as the team around her. This game isnt over. They have to keep their focus, not let pride or momentum slip away.)" Ethans mind was already racing with advice, plays, and adjustments, ready to share when the time came. "This is their trial by fire. And theyre passingso far." To be continue Chapter 130 - 117: Thunderhawks vs Ridgewood Lynx (2) Chapter 130: Chapter 117: Thunderhawks vs Ridgewood Lynx (2) 4th Quarter C 7:58 Remaining Thunderhawks 52 C Ridgewood Lynx 40 The Middle School gym felt like a pressure cooker. The roar of the earlier quarters had softened into a tense, collective silence an audience on the verge of either despair or eruption. Every breath, every movement, every squeak of a sneaker echoed louder now. No phones up. No distracted eyes. Just hearts pounding and eyes locked on the hardwood. The scoreboard above flashed red: 7:58 remaining. Charlotte Graves bent low as the ball was inbounded. Her palms brushed across her shorts, not just for grip but ritual. Her golden eyes glinted beneath sweat-soaked bangs. "Lets close it out. Lock in," she growled, voice low and firm. Her teammates heard it. Felt it. This is it. No more pacing. We finish this our way. She eyed the Ridgewood formation. It was subtle Zoe Kim wasnt flaring out like before; she was circling tighter screens. Maya Frees wasnt walking the ball up anymore; she had that look eyes narrowed, shoulders squared. Intent. And then movement. BAM. Maya exploded left, crossing fast, pulling both Charlotte and Lena Kowalski with her. Zoe dragged Amina across a screen like a magnet. But the pass went wide out to the wing. Jasmine Ortiz. She caught the ball with one bounce, rose up for a clean mid-range shot. CLANK. The ball ricocheted hard off the rim. "Rebound!" Carmen "The Tiger" Delgado bellowed, locking elbows with Layla Brooks under the glass. Bodies banged. Shoes slipped. The ball popped up between desperate hands. But before anyone else could react, Izzy Moreno snatched it like a hawk in flight. She landed in a crouch and took off like a missile. "Go! Push!" Coach Lorys voice boomed over the gym like a war cry. Izzy surged down the sideline. Her legs pumped like pistons, ponytail flying, eyes laser-focused ahead. Sakura Tanaka was already sprinting down the opposite lane, her speed surprising even the Lynxs defense. Carmen trailed behind after the board fight, but Charlotte kept perfect stride with Izzy, gliding up the middle. Just past half court, Izzy slowed. Subtle, but enough to draw attention. Her defender hesitated thought she was pulling up. Sakuras defender bit the bait, stepping over to block the passing lane Too late. With a smooth flick from the hip, Izzy sent the ball zipping backward in a blind dish. Charlotte caught it like shed known it was coming all along. One dribble. Stop. Pop. She rose above the elbow like it was a throne she belonged to. A pure jump shot. Balanced. Elbows tight. Release soft and high. SWISH. "CHARLOTTE GRAVES!" the announcer shouted, his voice cracking with the excitement of a crowd that erupted like a storm. Ethan in the stands cracked a small smile. (Perfect form. Great tempo. Thats the finishers touch.) Lucas pumped his fist beside him, yelling before sitting again, eyes wide with admiration. Charlotte landed light on her feet, already turning back into her defensive stance, chest rising and falling with adrenaline. Were not done. Keep pushing. Keep breaking them. Across the court, Maya clapped onceloud, sharp. "Eyes up! Reset!" she commanded. The Lynx regrouped, still burning with fight. Layla Brooks wiped blood from a scraped elbow, unfazed. Zoe Kim tucked hair behind her ear and got low again. They werent backing down. They couldnt afford to. Not with the season on the line. And so began another battle in the war. 4th Quarter C 6:59 Remaining Thunderhawks 54 C Ridgewood Lynx 40 The Lynx inbounded quickly. Maya Frees didnt let the Thunderhawks settle she sprinted, pounding the ball hard on each dribble. Charlotte raced to meet her. Feet light. Shoulders square. Eyes locked on Mayas hips. But Maya didnt stop. "Zoe! Flare!" she shouted. Zoe Kim curved off a double-screen. Lena Kowalski struggled to keep up, losing half a step. Maya fired a bounce pass with sniper precision. Zoe caught it, planted, and rose for a three. SWISH. The crowd exploded. Ridgewood wasnt going out quiet. "Lets GO!" Zoe shouted, pumping her fist as she ran back. Thunderhawks 54 C Ridgewood 43 Coach Lory didnt flinch. She clapped twice from the sideline, calm as ever. "Run it! Set flare-cut, swing option!" Charlotte signaled with her hand and brought the ball up, steady and composed. She passed to Lena, who swung it quickly to Sakura on the wing. Amina set a down screen for Charlotte, who curled up top again. The ball came back to her, but this time, Zoe Kim was ready right on her hip, sticking like glue. (Theyve adjusted. Theyre switching cleaner now. No more easy space.) Charlotte jab-stepped. Zoe didnt bite. So Charlotte shifted gears attacked baseline. Zoe slid with her. Help defense came Layla Brooks stepped in. Charlotte leapt in the air eyes scanning mid-air like radar. Behind-the-back pass. Right into Sakuras hands at the top of the key. Sakura caught, pump-faked, defender flew by. One sidestep. Pull-up. RIM. GLASS. DROP. "Sakura Tanaka with the cold move!" the announcer shouted. Thunderhawks 56 C Ridgewood 43 ... [Meanwhile on Bench] Lucas leaned forward in his seat, eyes locked on his sister. "Shes reading everything," he whispered. Ethan nodded, arms crossed. His voice was low but firm. "Shes dictating the tempo. Every touch, shes making them react to her. But..." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Ridgewoods rotating faster now. Theyve plugged the early gaps. Thunderhawks are gonna need movementoff-ball action. Or theyll stall out." .... Back on the court, Ridgewood didnt let up. Maya dribbled slowly this time, lulling the defense. Then she snapped forward. Carmen stepped up to hedge but Maya slipped under her arm. Driving, slicing through the lane. Help defense collapsed. Kick out Jasmine Ortiz, right corner. Shoots. MISS. But Layla Brooks boxed out hard. Rebound. Putback. FOUL! "And one!" Layla screamed, flexing as the crowd lit up. Thunderhawks 56 C Ridgewood 45 She went to the line, chest heaving. The free throw dropped in after a friendly bounce. 56 C 46 The ten-point cushion was no longer safe. The Lynx smelled blood. Charlotte exhaled hard. She clapped her hands. "Talk! Stay sharp!" She walked the ball up this time. Izzy ran a decoy curl. Carmen pretended to post but slipped out ghost screen. Charlotte used it and attacked left. Jasmine hedged. Charlotte stopped on a dime, spun right lost her. Inside the arc, she pulled up again mid-range jumper. SWISH. Dont blink. Charlottes eyes burned. Were still in control. Thunderhawks 58 C Ridgewood 46 But Ridgewood was answering every shot now. Maya came back fast. Zoe curled again. This time, she didnt shoot. She drove. Amina shifted over, arms up. Zoe spun. Layla cut baseline behind Carmen. Zoe dished. Layla caught. Layup. Thunderhawks 58 C Ridgewood 48 4:12 Remaining Coach Lory finally called it. "TIME!" The buzzer rang. The Thunderhawks jogged to the bench, breathing heavy. No one panicked, but their jerseys were soaked, and their eyes were wide. They knew. The Lynx werent giving up. Inside the huddle, Lorys voice was calm but firm like steel. "They want to turn this into chaos. Dont let them. Ball movement. Control. No hero plays." Charlotte nodded, gripping her knees. (Still ten minutes of fire left in our lungs. Still space to close it. Its ours if we want it.) She looked around the huddle at Carmen, who was gasping but still holding her chest high. At Izzy, laser-focused. At Lena, nodding already. Then she stood. "Lets close. As a team." They all stood with her. The timeout horn blew. The war wasnt over. But the Thunderhawks? They were ready for the final push. ..... Thunderhawks 58 C Ridgewood Lynx 48 The ball was back in play. Every pass felt heavier now. Every second ticked louder. Charlotte Graves took her place at the top, sweat streaking down her temple, but her expression was ice. She bounced the ball once. Twice. Then explosion. A high screen from Carmen, who rolled off perfectly. Charlotte darted right but pulled back. Jasmine switched to her. Youre fast, but you bite too easy. Charlotte faked a drive again. Jasmine lungedCharlotte spun the other way, slipped past the edge of the arc, and fired a skip pass across the court. Straight to Izzy Moreno. Catch. Release. SWISH. "Izzy Moreno again from deep!" the announcer shouted. "Shes got ice in her veins!" Thunderhawks 61 C Ridgewood 48 The Ridgewood Lynx came back like wounded animalsangry, desperate, determined. Maya Frees went full throttle now. She pushed the pace, ignoring Coach Reeds signals from the sideline. She passed halfcourt, crossed Charlotte, dribbled behind the backfroze her. Ethan leaned forward in the bleachers. (Shes pushing one-on-one now. Getting bold.) Maya pulled upjust inside the arc. SWISH. 61 C 50 Lucas glanced at Ethan. "Theyre speeding it up. Like you said." Ethans eyes narrowed. "Yeah. And if the Thunderhawks take the bait, theyll lose their flow." But Charlotte didnt bite. Next possession, she slowed the pace. Let the seconds bleed. Made them chase. She dribbled left bounce pass to Sakura, who slipped baseline. Layla switched over. Sakura dumped it off to Carmen. One strong pivot. Power layup. BANG. FOUL! The whistle shrieked. Carmen landed, fists clenched. "AND-ONE, BABY!" The bench exploded. Thunderhawks 63 C Ridgewood 50 Carmen to the line. Deep breath. Clank. But Amina crashed in, tipped the board out to Lena. Reset. Charlotte reset the clock. Twenty more seconds. (Keep control. Milk the time.) Coach Lory signaled from the sideline: "Motion! Motion!" They ran it clean. Crisp screens. Sharp cuts. Charlotte dribbled right, drew Maya and Zoe. Whipped the ball to Sakura. Sakura, mid-step no hesitation. Three-pointer. SWISH. .... Thunderhawks 66 C Ridgewood 50 The crowd erupted. Ridgewood parents sat stunned. Phones fell from hands. Lucas cracked a smile. "Thats it." But Ethan didnt smile. He watched closely. "No... not yet. Mayas got that look. The one Ive seen beforewhen someone decides theyd rather die than lose." .... He was right. 2:21 Remaining Maya roared down the court. She didnt call for help, didnt set up plays. She went iso. Stepback on Charlotte. Shot fake. Charlotte jumped. Draws the foul. Three free throws. She sank all of them. 66 C 53 Ridgewood set up full-court pressure. Press defense now. Desperation mode. Charlotte passed to Izzy, who nearly got trapped by Zoe and Jasmine. She pivoted. Cross-court to Lena too high! Turnover. Ridgewood ball. Coach Lory clenched her jaw. "Stay calm! Stay with it!" Maya inbounded to Layla quick dish back. Maya darted down, weaving like a knife through a crowded drawer. Layla lobbed it over. Maya caught. Reverse layup. 66 C 55 1:52 Remaining Thunderhawks inbounds again. Charlotte faked left, passed rightLena caught it this time. She dribbled past halfcourt and held it, smart play. Ridgewood fouled. Charlotte stepped to the line. This is what we worked for. These shots. This pressure. She bounced the ball once. Twice. Eyes on the rim. SWISH. 67 C 55 Second shot. RIM. IN. 68 C 55 Maya tried again. Fast. But Charlotte met her early this time. A trap cameAmina and Carmen cut her off. Forced pass tipped! Lena snatched it mid-air and ran. 1:15 Remaining She passed ahead to Sakura, who fed Charlotte. Charlotte didnt shoot. She waited. Time bled away. Maya lunged for a steal missed. Charlotte drove no shot again. Izzy flashed up. Bounce pass. Layup. 70 C 55 Ridgewood finally called timeout. But it was too late. The Thunderhawks bench stood. Fans clapped. Coach Lory crossed her armsfinally allowing a smile. Charlotte wiped her face with her jersey and looked at the scoreboard. 70 C 55. Under a minute now. Lucas stood and clapped slowly, quietly. "She did it." Ethan crossed his arms, smirking. "Nah. They did it. Like a real team." He glanced at Charlotte one last time as she walked off a foul with her hands on her hips, breathing heavy. "(Not bad, Charlotte Graves. Not bad at all.)" ... Meanwhile C In the Shadow of the Stands 4th Quarter Thunderhawks 70 C Ridgewood Lynx 55 Far from the main court, just beyond the noise and celebration building around the Thunderhawks victory, another group watched in eerie silence. They sat in the top corner of the bleacherssix girls in matching maroon tracksuits, their hoods pulled up. Each of them had a calm but calculating expression, eyes locked on Charlotte Graves and the Thunderhawks. Their aura was different. Still. Sharp. Predatory. The crowd didnt notice them. But they noticed everything. Charlottes footwork. Carmens timing. Izzys shooting pocket. Sakuras cuts. Even Coach Lorys substitution patterns. Then a woman in a sleek black coat and heels stepped forward in front of them. Her cold eyes scanned the scoreboard. Then the court. Coach Kuroha. Head of the Darkbell Academy Girls Team. She turned slowly to her team, her voice cool as frost, but every word laced with purpose. "Remember your enemy." Without hesitation, the girls straightened. "Yes, Coach," they replied in perfect unison calm, unwavering, automatic. Kuroha said no more. Instead, her hand dipped into the inside pocket of her coat. She pulled out a small black case. Flipped it open with a click. Inside, nestled in velvet six red pills. Almost glowing. She stared at them. Her lips curled into a slight smirk. (With this pill... were going to win the girls championship this time.) She closed the case and slipped it back inside. The girls didnt look at it. They didnt need to. They already knew. The next phase of the tournament wouldnt just be a battle of skill. It would be a war of will, strength, and secrets. And the Thunderhawks? They were already being watched. To be continue Chapter 131 - 118: The start of war or love? Chapter 131: Chapter 118: The start of war or love? 4th Quarter C 0:49 Remaining Thunderhawks 70 C Ridgewood Lynx 55 The roar of the crowd had melted into a kind of pulsing background haze. All that remained was the court its battle lines drawn, its energy alive. The Thunderhawks were locked in, and the Lynx werent done just yet. "Inbound, inbound watch Maya!" Coach Lorys voice echoed over the court. The ball was inbounded to Maya Frees, who snatched it with a tight curl around Zoe Kims screen. Charlotte Graves was right there, on her hip like glue. "You dont get space today," Charlotte muttered under her breath, arms wide, feet light. Maya jabbed hard, then spun right but Charlotte anticipated, mirroring every motion. The clock ticked. :44... :43... Maya swung the ball crosscourt to Layla Brooks. Carmen met her high, blocking her path. Layla didnt hesitate kick-out to Jasmine Ortiz, who caught, stepped into a three BANG! SWISH. "Ortiz for three! Ridgewood refuses to die!" the announcer cried. Score: 70 C 58. ..... In the Bleachers Lucas Graves leaned forward, hands folded tightly under his chin, his golden eyes wide with intensity. Ethan Albarado sat beside him, eyes narrowed, watching not the score, but the movement. "That shot was clean," Lucas muttered. "Still a 12-point game, but...theyre not giving up." Ethan nodded slowly. "Theyre leaning into perimeter spacing now. Ortiz and Kim drifting widepulling Sakura and Lena away from the paint. That opens gaps for Mayas drives or Layla to slip in for a quick cut." He tapped his finger twice on his knee. "But its desperate. Charlottes reading Maya like a book. And Carmens dominating the glass. Theyre gambling on catch-and-shoots now. High risk." Lucas exhaled slowly. "Can we really beat them though...?" Ethan glanced at him, a smirk touching his lips. "Thats why were watching. Learning." (The Thunderhawks are strong... but they bleed. Everyone does. You just have to find where.) ... Back on the Court C :34 Seconds Remaining Charlotte clapped her hands, signaling the next play. "Motion Loop! Lets GO!" Izzy sprinted baseline, curling off Sakuras screen. Lena darted opposite, dragging defenders with her. Carmen took two steps up, sold a screen, then rolled hard toward the basket. Charlotte faked left then slashed right. A sudden opening. Izzy, mid-sprint, no-look bounce pass right into Charlottes path. She caught it in stride one step then rose from the elbow. Defender charging. Pull-up. Fadeaway. SWISH. "CHARLOTTE GRAVES AGAIN!" the announcer shouted as the gym shook with applause. Thunderhawks 72 C Ridgewood 58. Charlotte backpedaled, her face composed, but her heart thundering. I can feel it. This is it. Were closing the door. :19 Remaining Ridgewood pushed one last time. Maya darted left, pump-faked, drew Sakura off her feet. Zoe Kim caught the next pass, took a deep three Clank. Rebound Carmen again. Her 11th. She fired a pass to Charlotte. "Hold it!" Coach Lory yelled. Charlotte slowed down, crossed half court, the ball secure in her grip. She glanced at the scoreboard. :11... :10... :09... The game was over. She didnt need to score again. Instead, she turned and faced her team, ball above her head, calling them in. Izzy clapped. Sakura raised a fist. Lena smirked. Carmen stood tall, panting but proud. BZZZZZZZT. FINAL: Thunderhawks 72 C Ridgewood Lynx 58 ... Bleachers C Lucas and Ethan Lucas leaned back, nodding slowly. "They did it. Again." Ethan kept his eyes on Charlotte, who hugged her teammates in the center of the court. "Theyre well-coordinated. Excellent chemistry. Charlotte is their core. Everything flows through her." He glanced sideways at Lucas. "If youre going to catch up...you better be ready to climb a mountain." Lucas didnt look away from the court. "I will." .... Thunderhawks Bench C Postgame Coach Lory Moore stood with her arms crossed, her long black jacket fluttering slightly from the warm breeze of the gyms vents. Her dark ponytail rested at the nape of her neck, damp with effort, she coached like she played: fully immersed. The scoreboard still glowed: Thunderhawks 72 C Ridgewood Lynx 58 The buzzer had long since faded, but the thrill still pulsed in the air. Her girls were laughing, crowding togetherCharlotte and Carmen bumping fists, Izzy mock-saluting the crowd, Sakura spinning in a circle. It was joy, pure and raw, the reward of sweat and sacrifice. Coach Lory rubbed her hands together once, then again. Her eyes glintednot with relief, but with calculated satisfaction. "Step one... done." Her voice was low but certain. She let the words linger for a beat. Then her mouth tightenednot in anger, but in expectation. "But its a long tournament." The crowd was roaring. Parents embraced. Students pounded the walls. But Coach Lorys voice cut through with cool precision. "Let them cheer." Her fingers curled loosely at her sides, but her tone sharpened. "Tomorrow... we work again." She turned toward the bench, scanning her players, charlottes form was tight today, especially her defensive switches... Carmen was aggressive on rebounds... Izzys shooting rhythm was improving but her eyes didnt rest long. They drifted. Up. Toward the far side of the bleachers. And she saw it. A flicker of movement. Maroon fabric shifting through the crowd. A tall, lithe woman in black posture straight as a ruler, arms crossed, a silver whistle resting against her chest. Her team stood behind her, still and silent. All of them wore dark coats, sharp-eyed. Watching. Coach Lorys expression changed. Her breath steadied. Her fingers stopped moving. Coach Kuroha. From Darkbell Academy Girls Team. The same team they eliminated last year... barely. Double-overtime. Bloodied knees. Tears and buzzer-beaters. A war. Rowyn hadnt come to watch for fun. She was here to study. To hunt. And now, their eyes met across the gym. Two generals. Two predators. No words. No smile. Kuroha gave a small nod calm, calculated and then turned. Her team followed without a whisper, like trained shadows, vanishing into the crowd. Coach Lory narrowed her eyes. "So, youre still watching, Kuroha." Her jaw clenched. She looked back at her team, Charlotte laughing as Carmen poured water on her, Izzy high-fiving the bench. The joy on their faces made her smile again, briefly. But only briefly. "Theyre not ready yet. But they will be." "This isnt just about winning anymore." Her fingers brushed the whistle around her own neck. "This time... its war." ... Bleachers C Same Moment Lucas leaned back, hands in his hoodie pocket. "She saw us," he muttered. Ethan smirked faintly. "She always does." Lucas didnt say anything for a moment, then exhaled. "Shes good." Ethan tilted his head, eyes never leaving the court. "No. Shes more than good. Her court controls getting sharperoff-ball awareness, anticipation, even her weak-side coverage." Lucas arched a brow. "Youre just complimenting your own training." Ethan grinned. "Nah. Thats all her now. I gave her the map. Shes building the roads herself." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "But..." Lucass expression sharpened. "But?" Ethans gaze flicked down to where the Ridgewood Lynx were still gathering themselves, some of them crying, others stoic. "Theyre not facing desperate teams yet." He nodded toward the court, where Charlotte high-fived Sakura and pulled Carmen into a side hug. "When the tournament heats upwhen teams throw traps, dirty screens, stamina drainstheyll need more than talent and chemistry." He clenched a fist subtly. "Theyll need bite. And edge. And someone who can bleed without flinching." Lucass yellow eyes stayed fixed on Charlotte. "Shell have it," he said simply. Ethan didnt disagree. But his eyes trailed to the tunnel entrancewhere Coach Rowyn Sable had vanished minutes ago. And his fingers curled tighter. "Somethings coming." "And I dont think its just a tournament anymore." .... Outside the Locker Hallway C Post-Game Glow The gym lights still glared behind them, the sound of brooms and echoing footsteps fading slowly. The scent of sweat and floor polish lingered in the hallway where the players came out, but it didnt matter. Charlotte jogged lightly out the doors, her black and gold jersey sticking slightly to her back. She spotted him instantly. Ethan Albarado stood by the vending machine, arms folded, posture relaxedbut eyes sharp. Lucas leaned casually against the wall, phone in hand, but his eyes werent on the screen. They were on them. Charlotte walked straight up and stopped in front of Ethan, lips curled into a sly smile. "Hows my performance, Mr. Genius?" She tilted her head slightly, the damp strands of her dark hair clinging to her cheek. Her tone was playful, but something expectant simmered behind it. "Come on. Say it. I earned it." Ethans lips curled into a half-smile, the kind that barely touched his eyes. "Well... good." Charlotte blinked once. Then narrowed her eyes. "Good?" she said flatly. "Only good?" She leaned closer, one eyebrow raised. "I dropped 21. Played both ends. Ran the floor like a general. You said good? Really?" Ethan chuckled just a little and uncrossed his arms. "Alright, fine." He looked down at her, eyes unreadable. "You were excellent. Controlled tempo. Hit your spots. Never overplayed the ball. And that transition pull-up in the fourth beautiful." "There it is." Charlotte grinned and stepped back with mock satisfaction. "Knew you had it in you." Lucas, still watching from the side, shook his head. "Shes always been like this after games..." "But somethings different now." He watched Ethans stance, and Charlottes spark. Not rivalry. Not mentorship. Something deeper. Ethan turned slightly, nodding once. "But dont let it go to your head. This was Ridgewood. Theyre well-coachedbut they dont have killers." Charlottes grin faded just a bit. Her eyes sharpened. "And were not facing just district-level teams from here on." Ethan nodded again, this time slower. "Exactly." There was silence for a moment charged, not awkward. Then Charlotte bumped his shoulder lightly. "Still. I saw you watching." Her smile returned. "You dont usually stick around after work." Ethan shrugged. "Had to make sure the Thunderhawks didnt collapse without me." "Were flying just fine, thanks." Her voice was proud. Ethans smile this time was genuine, if still subtle. "Yeah. You are." Behind them, a third voice cut through the moment like a knife. "Is there something going on between you two?" Lucass voice was casual, but the glint in his eye was anything but. Charlotte whipped her head toward him, face instantly red. "IIdiot!!" she shouted, stomping forward and slamming her fist against her brothers Shoulder not too hard, but enough to make him stumble back. "Im just being thankful to Ethan who helped me with my training! Whats wrong with you?!" Lucas winced and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Ow! Okay, okay! Sheesh, relax! Just asking..." He muttered, rubbing his arm. "Geez, youre scary after wins." Ethan just stood there, watching the siblings squabble. He sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "(Still as noisy as ever...)" Then his eyes lifted toward the distant night sky above the gym. His mind began running. Analyzing. Breaking down. Comparing. "(The girls team is good... the way they coordinate, how they collapse on screens, how they recover... Its efficient. Thats why they were champions last year.)" His brows furrowed slightly as he thought deeper. "(Theyre not just riding talent. Theyre sharp. Conditioned. That transition bucket from Charlotte earlier? Picture perfect. Theyre coached welland trust each other on rotations.)" He glanced at Charlotte again, who was now dragging Lucas by the hoodie toward the vending machine, still grumbling. Then back at the gym wall with the painted Thunderhawks logo. "(Seems like usthe boys teamhave to catch up to their standard, huh...)" His hands clenched slightly inside his pockets. "(Especially with Vorpal Basket and Thunderhawks both representing the same school... people are watching.)" "(And the weight of expectation... its not just on them anymore.)" The wind picked up again, rustling the bushes behind the bleachers. For a moment, Ethan just stood there. Thinking. Planning. Preparing. Because he knew This wasnt just one victory. It was the beginning of a bigger war. To be continue Chapter 132 - 119: Ethan’s Dilemma Chapter 132: Chapter 119: Ethans Dilemma July 30, 2010 The gym room was quiet, the only sound being the faint buzz of an overhead light and the soft hum of a vending machine at the end of the hallway. Ethan sat on the bench alone, his back hunched, sweat towel around his neck, eyes locked onto the glowing interface of his system. A deep breath left his lips. (Level: Pro... Upgrade Points: 1200... Shop Points: 10000.) (Ive come far, havent I? From a benched extra to this... but this is just the beginning.) He tapped open his Status tab: Status: Ethan Albarado Level: Pro Upgrade Points (UP): 1200 Shop Points (SP): 10000 Core Attributes [Offensive Attributes] Shooting Accuracy: 27 Layup Skill: 18 Dunk Skill: 16 Dribbling Skill: 26 Passing Skill: 17 [Defensive Attributes] Defense: 16 Blocking Ability: 15 Steal Skill: 18 [Physical Attributes] Stamina: 20 Endurance: 18 Speed: 20 Skills Basic Power Shot Basic Precision Pass Basic Dribble Magic Johnson Passing Vision (Advanced) Playmakers Vision (Pro) Elite Crossover Dribble (Pro) Sharpshooter Focus (Pro) Lockdown Defense (Pro) Clutch Performer (Pro) Ankle Breaker (Pro) Iron Will Stamina (Pro) Jordan Shooting Form (Advanced) Kobe Fadeaway (Advanced) Dennis Rodman Charge Taking (Advanced) LeBron James Momentum Saver (Advanced) Tim Duncan Stamina (Advanced) He leaned back against the cold wall, closing his eyes for a moment. (Two UPs for every 1 attribute point... that gives me 600 points to invest.) The weight of the decision pulled heavy on his chest. With every team leveling up, every match gaining stakes, and every prodigy theyd face in the Division Cup, he couldnt afford to waste even a single point. His jaw clenched. (Theres that kid from Osaka who plays like lightning. The Filipino phenom who can break ankles with just a glance. The twins from Seoul with double synergy plays. Monsters... every one of them. And I have to be stronger than all of them.) But strength wasnt the only thing he needed. It was control. It was consistency. It was the ability to carry when everyone else collapses. He looked over his stats again. His eyes lingered on Shooting Accuracy, Dribbling Skill, Defense, and Speed. (My shootings solid, but not enough for the coming chaos... My dribbling and speed are great, but defense... maybe I should make myself unstoppable, both ways.) Then... his fingers hovered over the Upgrade button. But he didnt tap yet. Instead, he sighed. (...Why am I hesitating?) He closed the interface. Slowly. Then whispered. "Because Im scared..." Not scared of the opponents. Not scared of losing. Scared of changing. Because the higher he rose, the more he felt like a ghost walking through someone elses story. He looked at his reflection in a dusty mirror near the exit. The boy staring back wore sweat-soaked clothes, but his eyes werent the same as before. No longer desperate. Now? Focused. Sharpened. Dangerous. (Will Lucas still follow me once he knows everything? Will Louie still look at me the same? Will I still look at myself the same once I start doing what I must?) He opened the system again. The Upgrade panel lit up. (...No choice. The future wont wait for me to be ready.) With a deep breath, he whispered, "Lets begin." And tapped the screen. Ethans finger hovered over the Upgrade button. The interface blinked gently, almost as if it could feel his hesitation. Then Tap. The numbers unlocked. Now it was real. 2 Upgrade Points = 1 Attribute Point. Ethan had 1200 UP, which means 600 points to allocate. He stared at the stats like a general preparing for war. Current Attributes Before Upgrade [Offensive] Shooting Accuracy: 27 Layup Skill: 18 Dunk Skill: 16 Dribbling Skill: 26 Passing Skill: 17 [Defense] Defense: 16 Blocking Ability: 15 Steal Skill: 18 [Physical] Stamina: 20 Endurance: 18 Speed: 20 Ethans Thoughts (If I want to keep leading this team... I need to be more than good. I need to be unstoppable.) He thought of Lucas his raw hunger to grow. Of Louie Gee Davas, watching him from the bleachers, trying to become like him. (I cant let them down. I cant let myself down.) Upgrade Allocation Plan: (600 Points) Lets break it down carefully: [Offensive Attributes] (Total Spent: 240 UP = 120 Points) +15 to Shooting Accuracy 27 42 (Now lethal from anywhere on the court. A true scoring threat.) +10 to Dribbling Skill 26 36 (For tighter handles, more advanced moves, easier breakdowns.) +5 to Passing Skill 17 22 (Makes the most of his advanced passing skills. Cleaner setups.) [Defensive Attributes] (Total Spent: 180 UP = 90 Points) +8 to Defense 16 24 (More anticipation, better footwork. Can lock up anyone.) +6 to Steal Skill 18 24 (Improved reach and reaction. Read opponents like a book.) +4 to Blocking Ability 15 19 (More rim contests even as a guard.) [Physical Attributes] (Total Spent: 180 UP = 90 Points) +5 to Speed 20 25 (Lightning-quick transitions. Speed kills.) +5 to Stamina 20 25 (No more slowing down. Fourth-quarter engine.) +5 to Endurance 18 23 (Longer, harder pushes through intense games.) Final Attributes After Upgrade [Offensive] Shooting Accuracy: 42 Layup Skill: 18 Dunk Skill: 16 Dribbling Skill: 36 Passing Skill: 22 [Defense] Defense: 24 Blocking Ability: 19 Steal Skill: 24 [Physical] Stamina: 25 Endurance: 23 Speed: 25 The system blinked with a soft chime. Upgrade Complete. Ethan stood there, breath held. (Im faster. Smarter. Stronger. But... thats not the point.) (I chose to walk this path... to change the story. Not just mine, but Lucass. Louies. The teams.) He looked down at his hands. They felt... warmer. Steadier. More real than they had in weeks. He clenched them into fists. "Let the prodigies come," he whispered. "Vorpals ready." ... [Louie side] The paint on the backboard peeled like tired skin, and the rim creaked every time the ball kissed it. Faded chalk marks and worn-out lines told stories of games played and dreams formed on this half-broken court. Jan stepped up near the free-throw line. A skinny boy with wiry arms, a mop of curly hair tied back with a faded blue bandana. His shirt had holes. His shoes? Hand-me-downs with the soles nearly talking. He dribbled once. Twice. He took a step, rose, and released a shot. Swish. The ball fell clean through the net, dancing like it belonged there. Louie Gee Davas hands in his pockets, chewing on a lollipop stick watched from under the rim. His eyes, sharp and gold-tinged under the sunset, followed the arc of the ball with quiet intensity. Jan jogged back, brushing his hands against his shorts. "I saw your game," Jan said, nodding. "You were good. Real good." Louie smirked, flicking the lollipop stick into a nearby trash bin without even looking. "Of course," he said, voice cocky, casual, almost rehearsed. "Who do you think I am? Im a prodigy, after all." Jan laughed softly, but there was something faintly heavy in his breath. He looked down at his worn shoes, then up again, his eyes shaded with something Louie could only describe as longing. "Im still jealous, though," Jan admitted, kicking a pebble. "I dont even go to school... I meanhaysst." Louie blinked, his smirk fading. He looked away for a moment, jaw tightening, the orange sky catching the glint in his eyes. "Hey..." he muttered, turning to Jan, voice lower. "Dont be down. Your dream of being a baller? Itll come. Im sure of it." Jan tilted his head, giving a crooked smile. "I hope so," he whispered. Louie looked at him quietly. (You dont even know how good you are... Tsk. If I didnt keep training every damn day, you wouldve beaten me one-on-one. Lucky for me, youre always busy working and earning money... idiot.) He ran a hand through his spiky hair and leaned against the pole. Jan smiled again soft, wide, sincere. "I want to be like you, too." That caught Louie off guard for a second. His cheeks twitched somewhere between pride and embarrassment. He clicked his tongue, smirking again to hide the warmth blooming in his chest. "Then you better catch up to me, Jan," he said, throwing the ball toward him. Jan caught it. Louies smirk widened. "Because I aint slowing down." Jan laughed, bouncing the ball once. The echo rang through the empty court. Two kids. One court. One dream. .. Graves Family Gym C Private Court July 30, 2010 C 7:00 PM The sound of a basketball echoed sharply through the private gym, each bounce slicing the silence like a metronome counting down to something greater. Lucas Graves stood alone on the polished hardwood floor, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, breath steady, eyes distant. He looked at his hands. Scarred slightly from scrapes, calloused from hours of relentless training, and tremblingnot from fear, but from hunger. That kind of hunger. His eyes narrowed. He clenched his fists. Then he slowly turned his gaze toward the rim. (That dunk...) He could still see it. Darnell Fox, in that moment the beast in human form, all power and precision, the way he rose, cocked the ball back, then slammed it down with a fury that shook the court, igniting the crowd like a bolt of lightning. The very rim seemed to flinch from the impact. Lucas didnt just see it he memorized it. Every muscle twitch. Every step. The launch angle. The rhythm. The expression on Darnells face. Now, he stood at the free-throw line. Eyes on the rim. Feet planted. He dribbled once. Twice. Then he moved. One explosive step forward, another, and then a quick gather, the exact motion hed seen. The air split around him as he rose, legs tucking in mid-flight. BOOM. He mimicked the movement perfectly, his hand slamming the ball through the rim with thunderous grace. The backboard shivered. The echo of the slam cracked through the gym. Lucas dropped down, breathing heavily, staring at the floor, his fists clenched again. (I need to further more) he thought, heart pounding. (I have to) He stepped back, wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked at the hoop againnot with fear. But with challenge. The same way a storm looks at a mountain. As He took a step back from the rim. His eyes burned with a fire that didnt exist a few weeks ago. A new thought formed, deep in his mind, sharp as steel. "I should also mimic that movement..." "Larry Birds shooting form... plus Jordans Airshoot." He exhaled slowly, nodded to himself. He knew Birds release the high arc, the near-vertical lift of the elbow, the calm, mathematical precision. He knew Jordans hang-time the floating mid-air pause, the flick of the wrist that made defenders look like statues. And he had studied them. Countless nights. Frame by frame. His mimicry wasnt just powerit was obsession. Lucas dribbled once, twice. Stopped. Brought the ball up. (Elbow in. Eyes on the rim. Shoulders relaxed. Just like Bird.) He jumpedbut this time, he didnt just shoot. Midair he hung. That Jordan stillness. That pause, like time surrendered to his will. Thenrelease. The ball flew with elegance, spiraling cleanly through the airswish. Nothing but net. Lucas landed softly, but his heart pounded like thunder in his chest. He lowered his hands and stared at the hoop, eyes widenot from surprise, but from clarity. "Im not just a copy." "Im building my own style... from legends." A grin crossed his face, tired but proud. He looked at his reflection on the gym window. Sweat dripping. Chest heaving. But he smiled. "Ethan... Ill catch up." "I dont want to just stand beside you... I want to keep moving with you" He picked the ball up again. And shot once more. The echo of the swish was the only sound left in the gym. To be continue Chapter 133 - 120: The Next Step Chapter 133: Chapter 120: The Next Step 4:30 PM Graves Family Gymnasium The golden afternoon sun filtered through the high windows of the Graves gym. Dust particles danced in the light, a quiet contrast to the fire building inside the room. I stood at the front, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the players sitting and standing around me. My team. Some still catching their breath after the drills. Others drinking from water bottles, beads of sweat trailing down their foreheads. This was us. Vorpal Basket. Once mocked, now moving. "Now that we passed the qualifier phase," I began, my voice calm but sharp, "lets move on to Step 2: The Division Cup." Their eyes locked on mine tension, excitement, and uncertainty all brewing. I stepped closer, holding up four fingers. "There will be four regions." North C 16 teams South C 16 teams East C 16 teams West C 16 teams "Only one team from each region will advance to the National Finals." Coonie Smith tilted his head and asked, "So... where will it be held? The Division Cup?" I smirked, stepping back. "August 10." A moment of silence followed. The date rang like a bell in everyones mind. Barely two weeks away. I paced slowly in front of them, making sure they understood the weight of it. "We dont have much time left," I said. "Thats why starting tomorrowwe enter the next phase of training. Well be ramping everything up: stamina, game sense, advanced play styles. No wasted movements. No wasted days." Lucas stood up, towel around his neck, sweat soaking his jersey. His yellow eyes locked onto mine. "Ethan... whats it gonna be?" Everyone turned to look at me. I clenched my fists. "Its going to be hell." "But if we survive it... were not just the team that finally won a game anymore." "Well be the team no one saw coming... until it was too late." Evan leaned back and let out a low whistle. Josh bumped his fists together. Ryan nodded with a slight grin. Brandon cracked his neck, as if ready for war. Aidens gaze hardened. Louie Gee Davas, still bouncing his knee with restless energy, grinned wide. This was our moment. And I wasnt going to let us waste it. .. Meanwhile, deep underground in a shadowy hideout, silence hung thick like a shroud. A figure wearing a sheep mask stood tall and still, the dim light catching the eerie curve of the masks hollow eyes. Before him, Akni Baduh a sharp-eyed, imposing man in his fifties, his face etched with years of hardened resolve stood quietly, his dark skin marked by faint scars, and his gaze unwavering. Sheeps voice, cold and mocking, broke the silence. "Oh, Akni... Akni... Akni... tss, tss, tss..." Aknis voice was steady but tired. "I already did what you said. I made sure nothing happens to our organization." A slow, cruel smile crept across Sheeps hidden face. "You did your job, Akni. But thats exactly why you need to die." Without hesitation, Sheeps hand moved with deadly precision. The cold barrel of a gun emerged from beneath his cloak and pressed firmly against Aknis temple. The silence shattered with a sharp, deafening shot. Aknis body crumpled, lifeless. The echo bounced off the concrete walls, swallowed quickly by darkness. Sheep stared down at the fallen man for a long moment expression unreadable behind the mask before turning silently and disappearing deeper into the shadows. .... Ethan Pov The gym was alive with the sharp sounds of sneakers pounding the polished hardwood, the rhythmic echo of basketballs bouncing, and the occasional thud of a missed shot hitting the rim or backboard. The smell of sweat mixed with the faint scent of rubber from the court. I stood near the sideline, arms crossed, eyes scanning every movement of my team. Todays training was focused on the basic footwork, coordination, and shooting. It wasnt flashy, but it was the backbone of everything on the court. Without solid footwork, even the best shot or pass falls apart. I could see the strain in their faces the tight jaws, the furrowed brows, the sweat dripping down their necks. They wanted to get better. I had to make sure they did. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then called out, "Remember, this isnt just about moving your feet. Its about controlling your entire body. Balance. Precision. Speed. You cant fake those." Lucas Graves, ever the sharp forward, adjusted his stance quickly and nodded. He wiped the sweat from his brow and dribbled a few steps forward before shooting. The ball arced perfectly and swished through the net. "Nice shot, Lucas!" I said, a small smile breaking through my usual calm demeanor. Lucas shot me a grin but quickly returned to his drill. Nearby, Evan Cooper was running through agility ladders, his feet a blur as he moved through each box. He stopped and looked up, catching my eye. "How can I speed up my transitions without losing control?" I walked over and crouched beside him. "Its all about muscle memory and mental focus. Your body needs to know what to do before your brain tells it. That means drills. Over and over. You dont just want fast you want smart speed." Evan nodded, the determination clear in his eyes. "Got it. More drills." (That kids got potential, but he needs to slow down mentally before he can speed up physically.) Across the court, Josh Turner was struggling to keep his balance during a pivot drill. His foot slipped slightly, causing him to stumble. I called him over. "Josh, youre leaning too far forward. You want your weight centered, knees bent, ready to explode in any direction. Watch me." I demonstrated a proper pivot low center of gravity, strong base, controlled movements. Josh mirrored my actions, focusing hard. "Better," I told him, "but you still need to keep your eyes up. If youre looking at your feet, youre blind to the game." He chuckled nervously. "Noted, Coach." Then came Ryan Taylor and Brandon Young, working together on a passing drill. I watched as Ryan struggled to connect with Brandon, the timing off by milliseconds that made the difference between a clean pass and a turnover. I stepped in. "Ryan, slow it down just a bit. Brandon, call for the ball earlier. Communication isnt just yelling, its anticipation." They reset and tried again, this time the pass flying clean into Brandons hands. "Good," I nodded. "Now make it second nature." Aiden White was practicing his defensive slides, his movements smooth but lacking aggression. I shouted across to him, "Aiden! Defense is about attitude as much as technique! Youre the wall they have to get through make them regret every step." He glared at me, but I could see the fire lighting up in his eyes. (This kids got heart. I like that.) On the bench, Louie Gee Davas was showing off a few flashy crossovers to Kai Mendoza and Jeremy Park. Louies skill was undeniable, but sometimes his ego got the better of him. Kai laughed as Louie smirked. I shook my head, muttering, "Showmanship wont win games, Louie." He caught my eye and shrugged with a cheeky grin. "Coach, Im just keeping spirits high." (Maybe a little too high.) After about an hour, I gathered everyone in a circle. Their chests heaved, sweat dripping down their faces, but their eyes were sharp. "Listen up," I said, voice firm. "You all passed the qualifier phase, but the Division Cup is a whole different beast. Youre not just playing to survive anymore youre playing to dominate." Lucas stepped forward, voice steady but intense. "Coach, what do we focus on next? We cant just rely on speed and power." "Exactly," I nodded. "You need to think three steps ahead. Footwork and coordination give you the tools, but game IQ will let you use them smarter than your opponent. Well start adding situational drills pressure plays, reading defenses, quick decisions." I looked each of them in the eyes. "This isnt just about basketball. Its about proving to yourself youre worth something. That you can rise above whatevers holding you back." Lucass jaw clenched, determination radiating off him. (I see you, Lucas. Were in this together.) "Got it, Coach," Josh said quietly, nodding. I smiled slightly, proud but aware of the road ahead. "Alright, back to work. This time, focus on integrating footwork into your shooting. Movement before the shot is everything." They spread out again, the gym filling with the sounds of bouncing balls, feet sliding, and focused breaths. I stepped back, watching over them like a guardian. (Theyre not just players to me. Theyre the future.) ... After a while, I noticed Louie Gee Davas jogging over toward me. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, and beads dripped down his forehead, but his eyes were burning with excitement that familiar fire of someone hungry for more. "Coach Ethan," Louie called out, catching his breath, "you think I can beat Lucas one-on-one soon?" I couldnt help but chuckle softly. Louie was confident, maybe a little cocky, but that kind of spirit was what made players great. "Louie, keep training like this," I said, my voice calm but encouraging, "and maybe one day youll give him a real challenge." He puffed out his chest, chest rising and falling quickly from the hard work, a cocky grin spreading across his face. "Im coming for him," he said firmly, full of swagger. (Good. Let that rivalry push you both.) I thought, watching him with a mixture of pride and caution. Just then, Evan Cooper jogged over from the other side of the court. His breathing was steady, but his face was serious. "Ethan..." he called out tentatively. I looked up at him. "Im your coach for today," I said, a playful edge in my tone, "dont call me Ethan." Evan grinned sheepishly and nodded. "Okay... coach," he replied, scratching the back of his neck. There was a short pause before Evan continued, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "How about you? Dont you train too? I mean, youre one of our main team players." I shook my head slowly, a faint smile on my lips. "I already train what I need," I said firmly, "now my job is to train you all." Evan blinked, absorbing my words. He looked at me for a moment, as if realizing the weight of what I just said that I was no longer just a player, but their guide, their coach. (This is bigger than me now.) I felt a surge of responsibility settle over me. The Division Cup was coming, and every step I took wasnt just for my own growth it was for all of them. Louie, still standing nearby, crossed his arms and shot a sideways glance at Evan. "Coach sounds better anyway," Louie teased. Evan laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, coach it is." I watched the two of them, thinking about how this team wasnt just a group of players, they were a family in the making. Rivalries would sharpen them, doubts would test them, but together, they could become something unstoppable. I turned back to the court, ready to push them harder. Because if they wanted to beat the prodigies and monsters waiting in the future, we had to be ready. To be continue Chapter 134 - 121: Them Chapter 134: Chapter 121: Them The Orlando Hoops gym radiated intensity even in stillness. Weeks of relentless training had forged steel from raw fire. Each player stood sharper, tougher, faster refined not just by drills, but by desire. They werent just boys chasing a dream anymore. They were contenders. The final whistle of the qualifiers was behind them. Ahead the Division Cup. Alec Storm stood in the middle of the court, spinning the ball on one finger, gaze hard, calm as the eye of a storm. Surrounding him were his battle-forged brothers. Alec Storm C Point Guard Level: Elite (Prodigy) The floor general. His decision-making had accelerated to near-instant reads, turning chaos into rhythm. The overconfidence that once betrayed him had been tempered by respect for both his opponents and his team. His mid-range jumper had become a silent dagger rarely used, always deadly. Mason Hayes C Shooting Guard Level: Elite The sniper with a sharpened eye. His range had stretched past expectations, and with his off-ball movement, defenders chasing him felt like they were stuck in mud. Now, he didnt just live and die by the threehed started driving hard, drawing fouls, pulling up mid-range. Julian Cross C Small Forward Level: Elite The silent wall. He no longer needed to prove anything. His defense did the talking smothering scorers, reading passing lanes like open books. But now, he could also hit the corner three, punish lazy closeouts, and slice to the rim with power and grace. Ethan Blake C Power Forward, Level: Elite The hammer. Post footwork carved from marble, frame solid as ever yet now he could slide his feet fast enough to stay with most guards. Fadeaways, pick-and-pop jumpers, and smarter switches made him a nightmare matchup on both ends. Jaxon Wells C Center Level: Elite The anchor. His rebounding and shot-blocking were as monstrous as always, but his newfound free-throw reliability and mid-range hook shot made him more complete than ever. The fearsome physicality remained now guided by smarter, calmer instincts. Alec looked across his team, heart thumping like a steady drumbeat. "Guys," he said, the ball dropping into his palm, "weve finished the Qualifier Phase. Nowits Division Cup time." "We have to become more than good... we have to become undeniable." Jaxon cracked his knuckles, voice hard and heavy. "The Vorpal Basket passed too..." he muttered. "We need our revenge." A hush fell. The name hung in the air like stormclouds. Vorpal Basket. The team that had broken their pride. That left wounds not just on the scoreboard, but in their spirits. Mason stepped forward, eyes burning. "This time... we dont just play to win. We play to take back everything they stole from us." Julians hand rose. Then Ethans. Then Jaxons. Alec placed his hand atop theirs. "No more hesitation. No more fear. Only purpose." They were no longer chasing greatness. They were preparing to claim it. .... Location: BAC Training Facility C Mouth of Wilson, Virginia The air inside the BAC Facility was colder than usual. No banners. No sound of cheering fans. Only the steady rhythm of basketballs bouncing on hardwood and the mechanical hum of training drones circling overhead. Here, talent wasnt just refined, it was engineered. Venganza stood at center court. Weeks ago, they were wild dogs under Gregs chaotic guidance feared, unpredictable, dangerous. But now? Now, they moved with the sharpness of a machine. Their old leader was gone. Greg was dead. In his place, a new shadow loomed. Romanov Graves. Mother of Lucas Graves. And the new head of Project V. From behind the reinforced glass above the court, she watched her sons former teammates train like weapons. Her eyes were calm but cold, like a surgeon before the first cut. On the floor below, the five core players of Venganza stood in silence Vin Cruz stood at the front, dribbling the ball once, then letting it stop under his palm. His expression was unreadable. To his right stood Zeke Monroe, tall and silent, arms crossed, eyes sharp as a hawk. Behind them, Dante Cruz stood with his usual calm, scanning every angle of the room. Silas Korrin, the massive center, rested his hands on his hips like a statue carved from stone. And on the far end of the arc, bouncing on the balls of her feet, was Kaia Voltor was it Zaia today? The switch in her eyes was subtle, but it was there. A smile that didnt quite match the moment. Suddenly CLAP! CLAP! The sharp sound echoed like a gunshot. From the corner of the court, a man stepped forward. He wore a black tracksuit with the BAC insignia on his chest. His gray hair was cut short, military style, and his eyes were all business. Coach Alfred. One of the head tacticians of BAC. Once a coach for national teams, now, the man responsible for turning Venganza into champions. Or something more. He clapped once more. "Everyone, listen up." The players straightened. "Romanov Graves runs this project. That means things are going to change." (Change? Weve already changed.) Vin thought, his jaw tight. "Youre not just athletes anymore," Alfred said, pacing slowly across the floor. "Youre proof. Living proof that untalented can be enhanced, sharpened, and controlled. Each of you represents a different kind of weapon." He turned toward Vin first. "Vin Cruz. Youre our tactical bladesharp, fast, and lethal. Youve mastered team control. Now its time you learn how to break it in others." Vin nodded, his voice calm. "Then show me who to break." Next, Alfred turned to Zeke. "Zeke Monroe. Lockdown Wing. The silent guardian. Weve improved your foot speed and your ability to read passing lanes. Now, youre not just stopping offenseyoure erasing it." Zeke didnt speak. He just stared ahead, unblinking. Alfred moved on. "Dante Cruz. The Vision Specialist. Youre more than a power forwardyoure our brain on the court. Your anticipation is what keeps us a step ahead. Youll lead the predictive simulations starting tomorrow." Dante gave a small nod, eyes flicking toward the observation window above. (Shes watching. Always watching.) "Silas Korrin," Alfred said, pausing in front of the massive center. "Paint Protector. Our players call you immovable for a reason but were making you faster. Lighter on your feet. Youll cover the entire paint alone. Like a wall that moves." Silas exhaled heavily, arms flexing slightly. Then Alfred faced Kaia. She was swaying side to side, humming quietly. "Kaia or Zaia, whatever name youre using today..." He narrowed his eyes. "...Youre our unpredictable threat. Our speedster. Our chaos. Youve gotten faster. Your visions wider. And your reaction time?" She grinned. "Quicker than a blink," she said, voice playful. (They dont know what I really see...) Alfred turned back to all five. "From now on, youre not just training to win games. Youre training to end themin two quarters or less." There was no hesitation. All five players stood tall, voices in unison. "Understood, Coach." The sound of it echoed through the facilitydisciplined, sharp, chilling. Alfred gave a firm nod. "Good... dont disappoint us." He turned and walked off the court, his footsteps fading behind the hum of machinery and the cold lighting of the gym. The large monitors above dimmed, returning to black. But the pressure remained. The players didnt speak. Not until Vin lowered his head slightly... closing his eyes. His fingers brushed the worn grip of the basketball in his hands. He held it for just a second longer, then whispered under his breath. (Ethan... Lucas... thank you for this second chance.) A rare softness crossed his usually stern face. Behind him, Zeke glanced over but said nothing. He understood. So did Dante. So did Silas. Even Kaia no, Zaia stood still for once, as if something within her recognized the weight of Vins words. They had lost Greg. Lost control. But they had their own future now... their future path They were Venganza. And this time... they would write their own Chapter. .... Meanwhile After a long, exhausting training session, the players collapsed onto the gym floor or benches, panting and dripping with sweat. The squeak of shoes and bouncing balls gave way to the sweet silence of a job well done... at least for a minute. "Ethan! Water! I need water or Im gonna die!" Josh Turner groaned dramatically, rolling on the ground like hed just been shot in battle. "If you can scream, you can stand up and get your own bottle," I called out, tossing him a towel instead. Aiden chuckled as he slumped against the wall. "That was murder, Ethan. Legitimate murder." Louie grinned, still buzzing with energy. "Come on, it wasnt that bad. Just imagine it as training arc montage stuff." Then, of course, the doors to the gym burst open. "Yo, boys!" came a confident, breezy voice. Everyone turned. Striding in with a sports bag slung over her shoulder, hair in a short hair, and wearing her black-and-blue Thunderhawks varsity jacket, Charlotte Graves, Lucass older sister and the captain of Thunderhawks. The Graves bloodline was unmistakable she had that same calm sharpness as Lucas, but with a hint of queenly intimidation. "Sis?" Lucas blinked. "What are you doing here?" "Just got done with our own training," Charlotte shrugged, scanning the gym with interest. "Thought Id drop by. Heard some middle school team you will face this time is strong." I couldnt help but notice her eyes pause on me for just a second longer than necessary. She looked away just as fast, but not before I saw the slight pink dust her cheeks. (Huh?) Before I could process it, Ryan Taylor, our infamous gym flirt and resident self-declared "ladies man," stood up and instantly slicked back his already sweaty hair. "Well, well, if it isnt Charlotte Graves... captain, star player, and heart thief," Ryan said, approaching with fake confidence like he was stepping into a rom-com. Brandon Young, still drinking water, sighed deeply the kind of sigh that said "here we go again." "Ryan, no," Brandon muttered, too tired to stop him but already spiritually regretting everything. "You know," Ryan continued, now flexing ever so slightly, "they call me The Taylor Tornado. Maybe you and I could" WHACK! Charlotte smacked a towel square into his face before he could finish. "The only tornado I see is the hot air coming from your mouth," she said dryly. The entire gym exploded in laughter. Ryan staggered back like hed been shot. "My heart...!" he clutched his chest like a theater actor. Brandon walked over, put an arm around Ryan, and started dragging him back to the bench. "Time for your nap, Romeo," he muttered. "One day shell see the real me..." Ryan whispered dramatically, face planted in Brandons arm like a fallen hero. "You say that every week," Brandon sighed again. Meanwhile, Charlotte walked past the commotion and gave Lucas a playful nudge. "Youre lucky I dont coach your team, baby brother. Id have you doing suicides till next month." Lucas scowled. "You already do that when were home." She laughed a real one and then turned toward me again. This time, she looked more composed, but I didnt miss the brief up and down glance. "Ethan," she said, approaching me now, her steps calm, confident, that captains aura never leaving her presence. I nodded, standing a little straighter without realizing it. There was something different about her tone today... softer, almost teasing. "Should I say Coach?" she added with a small smile, one eyebrow raised. (Why is she smiling like that...?) Trying to play it cool, I crossed my arms and met her gaze. "Dont tease me, Charlotte... Why are you here?" I asked with a half-smirk. "What, you want me to train you again?" Her smile widened slightly. "Oh? So, you admit I need training again?" "You begged me for help last time," I shot back. Before she could reply "WAIT... WHAT TRAINING?!" Ryan suddenly blurted from the bench, sitting up straight like hed just heard the biggest gossip of the year. His face twisted into a suspicious grin. "You and Charlotte... training? Like, what kind of training are we talking about here?" His eyebrows wiggled. His eyes sparkled. His thoughts were not pure. "Ryan..." Brandon warned, without even looking up from his phone. "Bro, Im just saying!" Ryan defended. "Late-night one-on-ones, sweat dripping, hearts pounding... Charlotte, youre doing it wrong, let me show you" WHACK!! Charlotte didnt even hesitate, she clocked Ryan in the back of the head with her towel like a lightning strike. "OW!!" Ryan yelped, nearly falling off the bench. "Abuse! Thats assault, Captain!" "Thats mercy," Charlotte said coolly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Next time Ill use the ball." "Thats why I love you..." Ryan whispered weakly as Brandon dragged him away by the hoodie like a disappointed babysitter. "Every. Single. Time," Brandon muttered. "Why do I hang out with you again?" "For the memories... and my good looks." "Im filing for custody of my sanity." I shook my head with a chuckle, watching them retreat like a circus act. Charlotte looked at me again, the humor still in her eyes, but quieter now. "Well, dont mind me. Just here to see how Lucas and his adorable team are doing." From the bench, Ryan raised his hand like a zombie rising from the grave. "Still single, by the way..." "Still irrelevant," Charlotte shot back without even turning around. The laughter doubled. As training wrapped up and players filed out for the showers or benches, I found myself glancing once or twice at Charlotte while she chatted casually with her brother. To be continue Chapter 135 - 122: Charlotte vs Lucas Chapter 135: Chapter 122: Charlotte vs Lucas August 2, 2010 Graves Gym C 3:12 PM The heavy thud of a basketball echoed across the hardwood floor. Thump. Thump. Thump. THUMP. Lucas Graves was in full rhythm, his sweat-slicked arms pumping as he dribbled with speed and control. His footwork was sharp, honed, instinctive. He stepped back, dropped low, then launched into a sudden crossover, shifting the ball behind his back before spinning forward into the lane. One step, then two he rose into the air for a clean, one-handed air dunk, slamming it down with precision. Charlotte stood by the entrance, arms crossed, one brow slightly raised as she watched. (He became... stronger.) Her thoughts whispered through her head, heavy with surprise and just a tinge of pride. The younger brother she used to beat easily in the backyard court was now moving like a real athlete no, like a threat. She watched as Lucas sprinted back to the top of the key, caught a self-passed bounce, then stopped on a dime. His body leaned back unnaturallylike something out of a highlight reel and he released the ball high over an invisible defender. It was clean. Swish. (That was... Jordans airshoot form?) Charlottes eyes narrowed, impressed. (And the shooting stance... thats Larry Birds technique. When did he master that?) Lucas took a breath, then repeated the move, only this time, his crossover was even tighter. He ducked low, eyes focused like a hawk, then stepped to the side and launched another shot mid-air. The ball arced smoothly. Swish. Charlotte finally stepped forward, arms crossed, sneakers tapping lightly on the polished wood. "Youre not bad," she said, her voice calm but sharp cutting through the thick air of the empty gym. Lucas turned mid-dribble, eyebrows lifting slightly. "Sis?" She walked with the same cool confidence she always had. Her ponytail swung behind her like a banner, the navy and gold Thunderhawks logo shining proudly on her fitted warm-up shirt. Her gaze didnt leave his. "When did you start mixing Larry and Jordans form?" she asked, a teasing smirk dancing at the edge of her lips. Lucas wiped the sweat off his face with the bottom of his jersey and smiled. "Just something I picked up. You know me... always watching film." Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Youre trying to impress someone, huh?" Lucas gave a playful shrug, spinning the ball on one finger. "Maybe. Or maybe Im just tired of being in your shadow." That made her eyebrows rise. Just a little. "Is that a challenge?" Lucas bounced the ball once with a sharp thud, then caught it on the return, grinning. "You tell me." Charlotte narrowed her eyes, but a small, amused huff left her lips. "Just so you know," she said, walking toward him and holding out her hand. "Ive been training too. With Ethan. He taught me a few moves and some new fundamentals." Lucas passed her the ball. "I know," he said, steady. "Thats exactly why I want to play against you. I want to see if youve actually improved." Charlotte scoffed as she caught the ball. "Boastful." Lucas crossed his arms and leaned back slightly, smirking. "Confident." "Cocky." "Prepared." Charlotte laughed. "Okay, okayfine, lets play. First to 7. Loser has to do the winners laundry for a week." "Deal." The energy between them shifted playful turned sharp. Familiar turned fierce. This wasnt just sibling fun anymore. This was something deeper. (Ive always been ahead of him,) Charlotte thought, stepping back and bouncing the ball, her hands adjusting to the grip. (But now... hes looking at me like Im the one who needs to catch up.) "Lets see what you got, Thunderhawk." Lucas grinned, backing into a defensive stance. Charlotte gave no warning. She faked left, spun right, then jab-stepped quick, clean, just like Ethan had taught her. Lucas stayed on her, his eyes locked, but she stepped back and pulled up for a jumper. Swish. "OneCzero." Charlotte smirked. Lucas exhaled slowly, taking the ball back. (Not bad. But now its my turn.) He dribbled forward with pace, using that signature crossover he picked up from Darnell Fox. Charlotte stayed with him. He pivoted, faked the drive, then leaned back and launched a high-arcing shot in perfect Bird form. Swish. "OneCone." Lucas said with a confident nod. Charlotte blinked. (Okay... that was actually textbook.) The match continued Charlottes smooth footwork and midrange game clashing with Lucass flair and precise control. The gym was silent except for the squeak of sneakers, the bounce of the ball, and the occasional swish of the net. Charlotte sized him up, then jab-stepped left. Lucas bit for a half-second just enough. She rose for a midrange jumper. Swish. "TwoCone." Lucas immediately answered back, using a behind-the-back dribble to freeze her. She recovered quickly, but he Euro-stepped around her, finishing with a scoop layup off the glass. "TwoCtwo." They reset, breaths steady but sharp. Charlotte took the ball again and drove hard right, only to hit a sudden stop and spin into a fadeaway. Lucas was there but not close enough. "ThreeCtwo." Lucas dribbled slowly, then picked up speed with a tight crossover, then another Iverson-style. Charlottes stance wavered, and in that heartbeat, he cut baseline and floated in a reverse layup. "ThreeCthree." Charlotte grinned, wiped sweat from her brow, and signaled with two fingers. Lucas narrowed his eyes. She faked a stepback, then exploded forward, catching him off guard. As he backpedaled, she planted and pulled up from just inside the arc. "FourCthree." Lucas chuckled. "You rehearsed that one, huh?" Charlotte winked. Next play, Lucas turned up the heat. He ran a hesitation dribble, baited her, then pulled up for a quick-release jumper, clean shot. "FourCfour." Both were breathing heavier now, sneakers sliding on polished wood. Charlotte caught the inbounds and gave Lucas a triple-threat look. She dribbled, stopped, pump-faked, Lucas didnt bite. So, she reset, then dribbled left and used a jab-pull combo to create space. Another clean shot. "FiveCfour." Lucas smirked. "Alright. No more warmups." He took the ball, hit a spin move, then went into a stepback three. Clangoff the rim. Charlotte grabbed the rebound, but Lucas poked it free mid-dribble and recovered it near half-court. He ran it back, crossed behind his back, and blew past her. One dribble, then Layup. "FiveCfive." By now, they were both drenched in sweat, eyes locked like two generals reading each others every move. Lucas stepped back, ball in hand. "Tired yet?" Charlotte grinned. "You wish." She lunged in for a steal, Lucas spun away, then took off for a drive. Charlotte chased, but he leapt, twisting his body midair. Airdunk. "SixCfive." "Show-off," Charlotte muttered, brushing back her hair with the back of her hand. Her cheeks were flushed, partly from the heat, partly from the sting of that ridiculous airdunk. Then without hesitation, she exploded forward with the ball, head down, shoulders lowered like a sprinter at the blocks. Lucas stepped in to block her path, his stance solid, arms wide. but Charlotte shifted her weight, planted her foot hard, and spun into a sudden turnaround fadeaway. The motion was fluid, like shed practiced it a thousand times in the mirror. Lucas leapt, hand stretched to contest But he was just a split-second too late. Swish. "SixCsix," Charlotte said between pants. She placed her hands on her hips, chest heaving slightly. "Game point." Lucas caught the ball as it bounced toward him and simply stood there, staring at her across the court. His expression had shifted no smirk, no teasing glint in his eye. Only focus. "Lets end this." (Win or lose... I want her to know Im serious now.) He stepped forward with a calm rhythm one dribble... two... Then, he burst into a sudden double crossover, fast enough to make the ball blur. He cut left, his shoes screeching against the polished floor. Charlotte stayed with him barely. He rose into the air, body leaning, form clean. Charlotte jumped too, one arm outstretched, shadowing the shot but the ball had already left his fingertips. It flew. Hung. Dropped. Swish. "SevenCsix. Game." For a moment, time felt still. No cheers, no movement just the soft echo of the net and the weight of silence between two players who had given it everything. Charlotte finally exhaled. Then she chuckled soft, reluctant, but real. "You little brat." She stared at him, a flicker of something fierce in her eyes, then thought quietly to herself: (How much training will it take to catch up to you now?) Lucas grinned and stepped closer, extending a hand toward her. "Good game, Thunderhawk." She eyed the hand like it was bait... then rolled her eyes, grabbed it, and let him pull her up to her feet. "Yeah, yeah. You win this time." Lucas slung an arm casually over her shoulder, still breathing hard but grinning like a kid who just snuck a cookie. "Just so you know, I still expect my laundry folded." Charlotte groaned. "Dont push your luck, Mimic Boy." But neither of them pulled away. The battle was over for now. .... Meanwhile... The sound of bouncing basketballs echoed on the other side of the gym, separate from the intense one-on-one battle between Charlotte and Lucas. Here, Ethan Albarado was focused on something just as important developing the next potential star. "Louie, thats not how you do it." Ethan called out, shaking his head as he jogged over. Louie Gee Davas had just attempted a fast crossover into a layup, but his footwork was messy and off-balance. The ball rimmed out pathetically. Louie hunched his shoulders, groaning. "Man! I swear it worked in my head!" Ethan chuckled softly, but his tone remained serious. "Thats because youre doing the flashy part without the foundation. Basketball isnt about just looking cool. Its about control." Louie tilted his head. "Control like... Jedi-level control?" "Exactly," Ethan grinned. "But even Jedi needed training. Now watch closely." Ethan stepped onto the court with that quiet intensity he always carried. He bounced the ball low, then showed Louie the proper sequence: "Look at my feet first," Ethan said. "Wide base, stable. Crossover tight. Then explode off your dominant foot. When you go up for the layup, dont just throw the ball guide it off the glass." He did it once quick, fluid, and perfectly timed. Swish. Louie blinked. "Yo... That looked effortless." "Thats because I drilled this a thousand times. You want to beat Lucas one day? You start with this." Louie bounced the ball once, breathing in. "Alright... Jedi mode. Lets go!" He planted his feet, kept his dribble tighter this time, crossed over, then drove forward. His pace was better, more explosive but his timing was still off, and the layup thudded too hard on the backboard. "Too much power," Ethan said calmly. "Youre not dunking it. Finesse, not force." Louie groaned and flopped dramatically on the floor. "Im never gonna be Lucas..." Ethan walked over, offered him a hand. "Dont be Lucas. Be Louie. Youve got speed, instinct, and energy. We just need to shape it. Besides..." He smirked. "Lucas couldnt do this at your age either." Louies eyes lit up. "Wait, for real??" "For real," Ethan said, nodding. "You think he popped out doing Air Shoots? He trained for it. Like crazy" Louie shot to his feet, determination flooding back into his bones. "Okay then, again! Jedi mode: activated!" They went at it again repetition after repetition. Ethan made minor corrections each time: "Drop your shoulder." "Watch your off-hand, dont leave it hanging." "Use your eyes to sell the fake, not just your body." Louie kept improving, inch by inch. After 30 minutes of non-stop drills, Louie finally did it crossover, drive, angle, soft touch off the glass. Swish. He landed with a gasp. Then... a pause. "Wait... did I just?" "Yes, you did." Ethan said, cracking a rare smile. Louie ran around in a circle like a kid who just got his first Poke?mon badge. "Lets gooooooo!" Ethan laughed, shaking his head. (Hes raw, but hes got fire. Ill mold it.) ........ "Ethan!" Louie stopped, panting. "Do you think... like, maybe next month... I can 1v1 Lucas for real?" Ethan crossed his arms, giving him a look. "That depends. Are you willing to train like this every single day until then?" Louie nodded without hesitation. "Even on weekends." "Even when your legs feel like jelly?" "Even when my brain wants to sleep but my heart wants to hoop!" Ethan let out a small chuckle. "Good. Then well make it happen." Louie grinned so hard his cheeks hurt. (Lucas... you better watch your ankles. Im coming for em.) To be continue Chapter 136 - 123: Roanoke Storm. Chapter 136: Chapter 123: Roanoke Storm. ???? August 4, 2010 ???? Division Cup - Southeast Region 64 teams from all over the country. Divided by regions. Only 16 would rise. Only one would take the national title. Each region had its own battlefield and today, the war began. ???? Southeast Division Teams: Team Name - School Name - Location Vorpal Basket - Oak River Middle- Mouth of Wilson, VA Blue Ridge Hawks - Blue Ridge Middle - Galax, VA Roanoke Storm- Hidden Valley Middle - Roanoke, VA Asheville Blaze- Mountain Ridge Middle- Asheville, NC Piedmont Spartans- Piedmont Valley Middle- Winston-Salem, NC To think... a school from the tiny town of Mouth of Wilson, Oak River Middle, had made it out of the qualifying rounds. Even more shocking? They made it undefeated. Inside the administrative office of the school, Principal James Whitaker sat with a coffee cup in hand. A stern, well-groomed American man in his mid-50s, known for his no-nonsense attitude and pressed suits. Today, however, his gaze was less academic and more... intrigued. He peered out through the tinted glass toward the gymnasium where the team was prepping. "So, this... this is Ethan Albarado. The genius that they say?" he muttered to himself. Behind him stood his assistant Nathan, holding the tournament brackets. "Yes, sir. Ethans been the key in orchestrating the teams plays. Sharp mind, intense court vision. Hes not just a player, hes a thinker." Principal Whitaker raised an eyebrow. "And the Graves boy? Lucas?" "A monster in the making, sir. Athleticism, skillset, you name it. His recent growth has shocked even me. And" The principal cut him off. "And the streetballer?" "Ah, Louie Gee Davas. A bit wild, but hes starting to mold into something special under Ethans guidance. Raw, but unpredictable. Think of him as our X-Factor." Principal Whitaker leaned back and sipped his coffee slowly. "Interesting. Very interesting." ... Meanwhile, inside the gym The team was gathered. The gym buzzed with pre-tournament energy. Bags unzipped. Shoes squeaked on polished wood. Coaches calling plays. Sweat and nerves mixing in the air. Ethan Albarado stood with his arms crossed, watching the team run through drills. His yellow hair slightly tousled, eyes laser-focused. "Remember the basics. Defense wins tournaments." he said firmly, voice echoing across the court. Lucas Graves was nailing 3s from deep, catching and shooting with Jordan-esque grace. Louie, on the other hand, was dribbling two balls at once and humming the Mission Impossible theme. "Louie, youre not in a movie." Ethan called out without looking. "YET!" Louie yelled back, grinning. Lucas jogged over, wiping sweat from his face. "We really doing this, huh?" "Yeah," Ethan nodded. "No more practice matches. No more simulations. Its real now." (Nationals... thats the goal. But first, survive the region.) Meanwhile... Near the edge of the court, Evan Cooper and Aiden White sat on the bleachers, watching Ethan, Lucas, and Louie warm up in sync. Evan leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes locked on Lucas landing another perfect airshoot. "Are you scared?" he asked quietly. Aiden blinked. "What?" "I mean..." Evan lowered his voice. "Were about to play in a real tournament. Regionals. And we dont know what kind of monsters were up against. What if were not enough?" Aidens eyes stayed on Ethan. "Yeah..." he admitted. "Im scared." Before he could continue, a familiar voice cut in from behind. "But we have Ethan." They both turned. It was Josh Turner, arms crossed, standing just behind the bench. His face held a calm confidence, but his eyes were serious. "We have Ethan," he repeated, walking closer, eyes now on Ethan across the court. "Because of him, were not losers anymore. Remember what we were before? Always losing. Getting crushed by teams who didnt even practice." He sat beside them, voice low but steady. "But after we beat the Portsmouth Vultures... I realized weve changed. We became strong. Not because we suddenly got lucky. Because he trained us. Pushed us. Believed in us when no one else did." There was a long pause. The three of them stared at the court in silence. Ethan passed to Lucas, who passed back without even looking. Louie caught the ball mid-air and slammed it home, the rim rattling. Aiden smiled. "Yeah..." he nodded. "Weve got Ethan." Evan grinned faintly. "Then maybe were monsters too now." The three of them stood, walking toward the court. Behind them, the lights of the gym seemed just a little brighter. ... Meanwhile Roanoke Storm Hidden Valley Middle School Gym, Roanoke, VA August 4, 2010 C 4:45 PM The gym of Hidden Valley Middle School had an eerie stillness to it not from a lack of sound, but from the weight of the presence inside. The wooden floor, polished to perfection, reflected the overhead lights, and the faint buzz of fluorescent lamps hummed in the background like the quiet before a thunderstorm. The air was cool not because of the AC, but because of the unspoken fear and reverence toward the figure standing alone at center court. A tall, lean boy, arms taut with muscle and eyes sharp as razors, stared at the hoop with predator-like focus. His jet-black hair was slick with sweat, his expression blank, unreadable. "Again," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. A player on the sideline passed the ball in a single bounce. The boy caught it in one fluid motion One dribble. Two. Then he leapt. And it wasnt a normal jump. It was explosive. Unnatural. Air bent around him. He rose above the rim with terrifying grace, then slammed the ball down like a bolt of judgment from the heavens. SLAM. The rim shook violently, the backboard trembled, and the sound cracked across the gym like a whip. But none of the players flinched. None of the coaches gasped. This was normal for them. That was Kagetsu Renjiro #23 the MVP of Roanoke Storm. Nicknamed "The Human Thunderclap," Kagetsu was a half-Japanese, half-African- American phenom. His vertical jump was the stuff of legend, and his reputation had already spread far past the state. Many claimed he was a future pro "If he stays healthy, hes going D1 by high school." His dunks didnt just echo, they crushed morale. Across the court, standing with arms crossed, their head coach Mr. Richard Halter, a grizzled, sharp-eyed man with a buzzcut and clipboard, finally spoke. "Next games locked." His voice boomed like a drill sergeants. "Vorpal Basket. Mouth of Wilson." Some of the players muttered. A few eyes glanced at each other. One even scoffed. "Never heard of em," said a forward, spinning a ball on his finger. Coach Halter flipped a page on his clipboard. "Newbloods. First regional appearance. Word is... they took down the Portsmouth Vultures." That name silenced them. The Portsmouth Vultures were no joke. They were a notoriously aggressive, dirty, and skilled team, the kind who played to humiliate, not just win. Losing to them was almost a rite of passage for young teams. Kagetsu raised an eyebrow. "They beat Portsmouth?" Coach nodded. "Yes. With a bunch of nobodies... and two rising stars." He looked up at the team, eyes locking with Kagetsus. "Ethan Albarado. And Lucas Graves." That name Graves got another reaction. Kagetsu tilted his head. "Graves... any relation to Charlotte?" "litte brother," Coach confirmed. "Different style, but same fire." Kagetsus smile was small but dangerous. "So were playing against the next Charlotte, huh?" The backup center laughed nervously. "Should we be worried?" Kagetsu shook his head. "No." He walked over to the sideline and picked up a towel, wiping the sweat off his arms. "Were not here to worry. Were here to destroy." He looked at the rim again. "Vorpal Basket, huh? Lets see what happens when the storm comes knocking." Coach Halter turned to the rest of the team. "From now till game day, no slacking. We run full drills. Conditioning. Defense rotations. Kagetsu gets special coverage. We focus on Albarado and Graves lock them down, crush the morale." "Yes, Coach!" the team replied in unison. He paused before walking away. "Make no mistake this isnt just about winning." "Its about reminding these dreamers that the Southeast belongs to Roanoke." As the players dispersed into formation, sneakers squeaked across the polished gym floor. The ball echoed with each bounce as Kagetsu Renjiro made his way back to the paint, his expression unreadable cold and calm like a storm before it breaks. He muttered under his breath: "Ethan, huh..." He stared at the hoop, dribbling slowly. "Lets see if you can handle thunder." Then he exploded. BAM! In one fluid motion, Kagetsu drove to the rim, a single crossover and eurostep that left his defender stumbling and launched himself into the air again. His right arm stretched back like a coiled whip, then BOOM! The dunk was thunderous. This one made the rim bend. The assistant coach flinched instinctively. The gym fell quiet for a moment before resuming the drill whistles. .... Roanoke Storms Training: Precision & Pressure Coach Halters clipboard snapped shut. "Clockwork rotations! I want no mistakes!" Players moved like a machine, this wasnt practice, it was war prep. ... Drill 1 Two rows of players stood at half-court, crouched low like sprinters. One line was defense. The other, offense. Each defender was given a mirror partner, they had 5 seconds to match their every move: jab steps, hesitations, spin moves. Kagetsu was unmatched here. His lateral movement was inhuman when his partner cut left, Kagetsu was already there. When he pulled a quick behind-the-back dribble, Kagetsu reached forward poke steal. "Move like ghosts! Dont chase, predict!" Halter shouted. ... Drill 2 Coach threw a whistle and barked: "Three-on-two. Transition drills. Speed up!" Three offensive players barreled down the court while two defenders scrambled to stop them. But Roanokes defenders especially Kagetsu werent just reacting. They hunted. A pass to the wing? Kagetsu leapt in the air intercepted. When a smaller guard drove inside, Kagetsu slid over and leapt. "NOT IN HERE!" The block was brutal, the ball bounced off the backboard and landed near the bleachers. .... Drill 3: Thunder Unit Coach Halter clapped his hands. "Give the court to Kagetsu full iso run." Players stepped aside. This was his time. One-on-one. Shot clock on. Defender set. Kagetsu bounced the ball slowly... eyes locked onto the defender. One jab step, the defender twitched. Then crossover. Behind the back. Spin. Stop-and-pop jumper. Swish. Next defender stepped up. Kagetsu did it again this time, a hesitation move, then exploded into a windmill dunk. After five straight buckets, sweat dripped from his chin. He wasnt tired. He was focused. "I heard Ethan teaches his team fundamentals," he said while walking to the sideline. "Lets see if he can teach them how to survive this." Coach Halter addressed the team one last time "Vorpal Basket plays with heart. Theyve got chemistry. Theyve got this kid Ethan calling plays like hes a college guard." He stared them all down. "But weve got chaos. Power. Thunder. Roanoke doesnt fall to kids with dreams. Roanoke breaks them." .. Last Shot Before Fadeout Kagetsu stood alone at the free-throw line. The lights above him dimmed slightly as the sun dipped outside the gym windows. He took a deep breath. Dribbled once. Then launched a perfect shot Swish. He whispered: "Thunders coming, Ethan. Hope your skys clear." To be continue Chapter 137 - 124: Thugs on loose Chapter 137: Chapter 124: Thugs on loose ???? Graves Court August 5, 2010, 4:00 PM The rhythmic echo of basketballs bouncing across the hardwood filled the gym. The walls were scuffed, the paint on the three-point line faded, but for the boys of Vorpal Basket, this was sacred ground. Ethan stood near the baseline, arms crossed, eyes scanning his teammates as they ran shooting drills. Lucas was practicing fadeaways in the corner while Louie Gee Davas worked on his flashy streetball-style layups. Then "LUCAS!!" The sharp, energetic voice cut through the noise like a whistle. Heads turned. Lucas froze mid-dribble and looked toward the gym doors. There she stood, a girl in casual jeans and a black windbreaker, holding a clipboard with one hand and waving with the other. Ayumi Brooke. Lucass eyes widened. "Ayumi?" Ethan grinned and stepped forward, patting Lucas on the shoulder. "Oh, I didnt tell you?" Ethan said, amused. "Shes our new manager. Officially." Lucas blinked. "Seriously?" "I talked to that bastard Coach Fred Mason," Ethan added, voice bitter. "He stripped Ayumi of her manager spot last year over some dumb excuse. Said she wasnt needed. But now?" He smirked. "Now shes ours." Ayumi walked up, beaming. "Hehe." Lucas chuckled, still surprised. "You never told me. When did this happen?" "Just yesterday," Ayumi said, glancing at her clipboard. "Ethan messaged me, and I couldnt say no." Lucas looked genuinely happy. "Its good to have you back, Ayumi." She held up the clipboard proudly. "Im not just back Ive already organized your practice rotations, injury recovery tracking, hydration schedule, and Ethans nutrition plan." Ethan gave a sheepish look. "She yelled at me this morning for skipping breakfast." Ayumi crossed her arms. "I will throw protein bars at you if I have to." Lucas laughed. "Yep. Thats Ayumi." Josh, Evan, and Aiden waved from the court. Louie gave her a thumbs-up with both hands. And Ryan and Brandon also give him some hand waving. "Glad to have you here." Josh called. "Now our team feels more complete." Aiden added. Ayumi nodded, a bit embarrassed by the attention. "You boys better not slack. Im not going easy on anyone just because were friends." .. The gyms warm air suddenly felt suffocating. Three strangers stood at the entrance like wolves sniffing out prey. Their baggy hoodies barely concealed the menace in their eyes. One had brass knuckles hanging from his waistband. Another had a jagged scar running down the side of his cheek. Spit. "This the place?" one of them sneered, scanning the gym like it was a trash heap. Ethan took one instinctive step forward, placing himself slightly ahead of Ayumi and the others. His voice was low, controlled. "Who are you?" Before they could answer "Ethan!!" Everyone turned as another figure stumbled through the double doors. Coonie Smith limping, bruised, a gash on his lip. Kai Mendoza followed behind, blood trickling down from a busted eyebrow, supporting Coonie by the shoulder. Gasps echoed. Ayumi put a hand to her mouth. Lucas immediately rushed over to them. "Coonie, Kai?! Wheres Jeremy?" Ethan demanded, eyes darting. Coonie winced and looked up, pointing a shaky hand toward the thugs. "They... they jumped us. Said they were looking for you... and its because of Jeremy. Im sorry" Kai growled, wiping blood from his cheek. "Jeremy owed them. A lot." One of the thugs chuckled. "Smart kids." He pulled back his hood, revealing slicked-back hair and a gold tooth. "You must be Ethan Albarado the name Jeremy dropped before he ran. Said if he disappeared, we should collect from you." He cracked his knuckles. "So here we are. Time to pay up." Ethans mind raced. (What the hell, Jeremy... what did you drag us into?) Lucas stepped up beside Ethan, glaring. "Who are you people?! " The tallest thug grinned, eyes gleaming. "Names Brick. We dont care about your games, little boy. Just the money." "Or maybe we trash this whole place and take it out of your hides instead." the third added, smirking as he pulled out a small metal bat from under his hoodie. Aiden and Josh flinched. Evan looked around, nervous. Ethan stepped forward, jaw clenched. "Youre not laying a finger on anyone." The thugs laughed. "You gonna fight three of us, hero?" But then BAM. The sound of a basketball slamming against the bleachers silenced the room. Louie Gee Davas stood at the far end of the court, his hoodie off, spinning a ball on his finger. His expression was calm but his eyes were dead serious. "Yall want a problem?" Louie said, walking toward them. "Try it." Lucas caught the ball as Louie tossed it his way, then cracked his knuckles. Ayumi stepped in front of the injured Coonie and Kai, her voice sharp and unwavering. "This is our court. You picked the wrong team." Ethans gaze darkened, his voice low and filled with quiet fury. "Ill ask once. Leave now... or you wont walk out." The gold-toothed thug glanced around. He saw the fire in their eyes, Ethan standing at the front like a general. Lucas beside him, fists clenched. Louie Gee twirling a ball casually, eyes cold. Behind them, Josh, Evan, Aiden, Brandon, and Ryan forming a wall of young warriors ready to throw down. The tension was suffocating. For a second, the thug weighed the odds. Then "There are only three of you," Brandon said, stepping forward, broad shoulders rising. "We are a lot." Ryan followed with a venomous glare. "So scram, fuckers." The tallest thug twitched but the gold-toothed one raised a hand, stopping him. He spat on the gym floor again, eyes locked on Ethan. "This aint over, Albarado. Well be back." "Then well be waiting," Ethan snapped. The doors slammed shut behind the thugs as they left in frustrated silence. Everyone stood still for a moment, letting the weight of what just happened sink in. Graves gym no, their gym was safe. For now. Ayumi turned back to Coonie and Kai, kneeling beside them with a deep breath of relief. Lucas muttered, "This is more than basketball now..." Ethan didnt say anything. He just stood there, staring at the doors, the same ones the thugs had walked through. His fists still clenched. His fire still burning. (Jeremy... you better have a damn good reason.) ... Meanwhile Jeremys House August 5, 2010 | 4:50 PM ???? Blueleaf Apartments, Winston-Salem, NC The room was quiet except for the soft clatter of plastic spoons in chipped bowls. A dim light flickered overhead, barely bright enough to hide the worn-out wallpaper and creaky wooden floor. Jeremy knelt near the small table in the cramped kitchen. "Did you eat, little bro?" he asked softly. His seven-year-old brother nodded while holding a spoon with both hands, scooping up the last bit of canned soup. Their five-year-old sister, still in a faded pink hoodie, kicked her legs under the table. "I left you some, Jeremy," she said, her voice sweet and small. Jeremy forced a smile. "Nah, Im not hungry. You need it more." His stomach growled in betrayal. He ignored it. Behind him, on the couch, a stack of unpaid bills sat beside a pile of schoolbooks he hadnt touched all week. Next to them, a medical form was marked in red: "URGENT: Awaiting Surgery. Payment Due by August 20." His hands trembled as he picked up the form again. (If I dont get the money soon... Dad doesnt make it to surgery... And if I dont pay tuition, Im out of school. No school, no team. No team, no future.) He leaned his head against the kitchen cabinet, sighing quietly so the kids wouldnt hear. "Im trying..." he whispered. "Im trying my best..." His phone buzzed. A message. Loan Shark #2: "You better have something for us soon. Or else." Jeremy stared at it. His fingers clenched. He thought of Ethan. Of Lucas. Of how Ayumi used to cheer them on. Of how it all felt so far away now. He wasnt a bad guy. He was just a kid stuck in a grown mans nightmare. .. Back to Graves Court The thugs had backed out for now. But the atmosphere inside the gym was heavier than ever. Ethan stood with his arms crossed, sweat beading down his brownot from practice, but from the pressure mounting. Jeremy was still gone. Coonie and Kai sat against the wall, bruised, breathing hard. Ethan took a step forward, voice low but firm. "What really is going on? Why did those guys mention my name? Why Jeremy?" Coonie looked down, ashamed. His hands were clenched into fists. He glanced at Kai, silently asking for permissionbut Kais jaw was tight, eyes darting away. "Coonie," Ethan said more sternly. Coonie let out a shaky breath, then finally looked up. "I guess... I need to tell you everything." "Coonie, dont" Kai interjected, grabbing his arm. But Coonie shook him off. "No. They deserve to know." He turned to Ethan, Lucas, and the rest of the team, who had quietly gathered near. "Jeremy... hes in debt. Deep debt. Those guys arent just thugstheyre loan sharks." Everyone went still. "His dads been sickhospital bills, surgery, and their family cant cover it. His moms working triple shifts. Jeremy... he didnt know what to do. He didnt want to give up basketball. So he borrowed money." Lucas muttered, "Thats insane... from them?" Coonie nodded. "They gave him two weeks. But the payments past due. So... Jeremy told them..." He hesitated. Ethans jaw tightened. The room was quiet not out of fear, but out of respect. Everyone was listening. "He told them if he couldnt pay, they could find you." The words replayed in Ethans mind like a broken record. "He said you have the solution..." The betrayal stung, but not because of malice because of trust. Because Jeremy had thought of Ethan as his only way out. Ethans back was still turned when Coonie stepped forward. His voice wavered. "Jeremy... he didnt mean to hurt you, Ethan. He was just scared." Ethan didnt respond. He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath through his nose, his fists loosening just a little. He could picture Jeremys face, the strained smiles during practice, the quiet way he always lingered after games. How none of them noticed something was wrong. "Where is he now?" Ethan finally asked. Kai hesitated, then answered softly. "Hes at home..." Kai looked down, voice thick with guilt. "He wanted to ask for your help, Ethan. He really did. But... he hesitated. Said he was too embarrassed. Said he didnt deserve your help after dragging you into this." A heavy silence followed. Ethan finally turned around, his gaze locked on Kai and Coonie but there was no anger in his eyes. Only something stronger. Resolve. "Hes wrong." Ethans voice was low, but every word hit like a hammer. "It doesnt matter if he screwed up. Hes our teammate. That means something." He stepped forward. "Basketball isnt just passing and shooting its trust. Its loyalty. Jeremys been carrying this by himself for who knows how long." He looked at the others Lucas, Ayumi, Aiden, Evan, Josh, Ryan, Brandon every one of them listening. "We dont let our own suffer alone. Not now. Not ever." Ayumi nodded, her eyes glistening. Josh clenched his fists and said, "Lets go find him." Lucas added, "Were his team. Lets act like it." Ethan turned toward the door. "Were going to Jeremys house." He glanced over his shoulder. "And after that? We make sure those thugs never think about stepping on this court again." Ethan opened his eyes. They burned with something sharper than anger. Determination. "Were not letting him handle this by himself." He looked at the team. "No teammate of mine deals with hell alone. Especially not Jeremy." To be continue Chapter 138 - 125: Loan Shark (1) Chapter 138: Chapter 125: Loan Shark (1) The air in the dimly lit room was thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of stale beer. Empty takeout containers littered a scarred wooden table. At its head sat Big King, a hulking man whose bald head gleamed under the single bare bulb, a jagged scar pulling at the corner of his left eye. He slammed a massive fist onto the table, making the cheap plastic cups rattle. "Fuck that kid!" he roared, his voice a gravelly rumble that filled the small space. "He said hed pay us in a week. Now what the fuck is this?!" Brick, the tallest of the thugs, stood nervously before him, shifting his weight. "Boss, that Ethan... Jeremy said didnt pay us. We went to the gym like you said, but the kid wouldnt cough it up." Big Kings good eye narrowed, fixed on Brick. "He wouldnt pay? What, did he think this was a charity, huh? Were not running a charity!" He leaned forward, his knuckles white. "You telling me you let some high school punk walk all over you?" Brick flinched. "No, Boss, it wasnt like that. He had a whole team with him. And that kid who is shorter than us he looked ready to fight. And the yellow eyes freak kid, too. They looked like they meant business." "A team?" Big King scoffed, leaning back in his creaky chair. "Basketball players? You let basketball players scare you off?" He laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "This isnt some game, Brick. This is money. My money." He pulled a half-smoked cigarette from an overflowing ashtray and lit it, inhaling deeply. "So, the Ethan kid thinks hes a hero, huh? Thinks he can stand up to Big King?" A slow, predatory smile spread across his face, revealing a missing front tooth. "Lets see how much of a hero he is when his little team starts losing more than just games." He took another drag, then exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Jeremy owes us. And if Jeremy cant pay, then his team will. One way or another." Big King pointed a thick finger at Brick. "Go back there. But this time, dont go empty-handed. I want that money, or I want something valuable they care about. And I want it by tomorrow." Brick nodded, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple. "Yes, Boss. Well handle it." As Brick and the other two thugs turned to leave, Big King took a final, long drag from his cigarette, extinguishing it in the ashtray. He leaned back again, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Lets see if this Ethan is as tough as he thinks he is." ... The worn linoleum floor of the apartment building lobby felt cold beneath their sneakers as the Vorpal Basket team stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of old cooking and a faint, lingering dampness. They found the stairs, a grimy concrete structure leading up into the dimness. Each step echoed in the quiet building as they ascended to the third floor. Ethan stopped in front of apartment 3B . The door, a dull green, looked as weary as the rest of the building. He could hear the faint murmur of a television inside, and the distant, happy sound of childrens voices. His heart ached. Jeremy was in there, putting on a brave face for his siblings, while battling a nightmare all alone. He raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. What would he say? How do you tell a friend, trapped in a desperate situation, that you know his secret? Lucas stepped up beside him, his hand gently touching Ethans shoulder. "Were here for him, Ethan. Just... tell him that." Louie Gee nodded from behind them, his usual swagger replaced by a rare seriousness. "He needs us." Taking a deep breath, Ethan finally rapped on the door. Once. Twice. The murmuring inside stopped. A few seconds later, the faint sound of shuffling feet approached. A small eye-level peephole darkened, as if someone was peering through. Then, the door opened a crack, revealing a small, hesitant face. It was Jeremys little sister, her eyes wide with curiosity, clutching a faded teddy bear. "Hi," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Hi there," Ethan said softly, forcing a gentle smile. "Is Jeremy home?" The little girl blinked, then slowly opened the door wider. Inside, the apartment was small but tidy, though showing signs of wear. A small boy, Jeremys little brother, peeked out from behind the living room couch, clutching a well-loved basketball. And there, standing in the middle of the cramped living room, was Jeremy. His eyes, usually bright, were downcast, and his shoulders slumped. He looked thin, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He wore a faded t-shirt and old sweatpants. When he saw Ethan and the entire team standing in his doorway, his eyes widened in shock, then immediately filled with shame. "Ethan? And everyone... I get about Ethan, but you guys... what are you guys doing here?" Jeremy stammered, his voice cracking. He tried to close the door, but Ethan quickly put a hand out to stop it. "We know, Jeremy," Ethan said, his voice steady, his gaze unwavering. "We know about the loan sharks. About your dad. About me." Jeremys eyes widened, and he flinched as if struck. The words seemed to physically drain him, and he slowly sank to his knees, his face crumpling. "Ethan... I, uh, sorry... for everything. I told them about you. I told them that they should find you in case Im nowhere to be found." Tears streamed down his face as he repeated, "Im sorry. Im sorry." Ethan looked down at his friend, his expression unreadable for a moment. The betrayal stung, yes, but seeing Jeremy like this, broken and ashamed, overshadowed any personal hurt. He knelt too, meeting Jeremy at eye level. "Well, although Im disappointed and hurt, Im just trying to understand you, Jeremy. After all, its hard to do what you do." Jeremy looked up at Ethan, his eyes still brimming with tears but now also filled with a profound look of gratefulness. "Anyway, why didnt they raid your house?" Louie asked, breaking the heavy silence. His voice, usually loud and boisterous, was softer, reflecting the seriousness of the moment. Jeremy sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Uh... like I said... they should find Ethan for one week. They said if he didnt pay, then they would take whatever they wanted from my house." He swallowed hard, his gaze drifting to his little brother and sister, who were still watching from the living room, their innocent faces filled with curiosity. "I thought if I worked and did some side gigs, I could gain money in just a week and pay them back. But my fathers life suddenly got worse. The hospital bills worsened, and my mother had to work multiple jobs and was stressing out." The small apartment hung heavy with unspoken tension. The weight of Jeremys situation pressed down on everyone, a tangible thing in the stuffy air. The joyful sounds of childrens cartoons from the television seemed jarringly out of place. Lucas broke the silence, his voice low and serious. "What should we do, Ethan?" He looked at their leader, a silent plea for guidance in his eyes. Coonie and Kai, still bearing the marks of their encounter with the thugs, exchanged worried glances. Evan and Aiden and Josh looked at each other, their faces etched with concern. Even Brandon and Ryan, usually the teams jokers, were somber. Ryan, however, seemed to want to ease the tension, a nervous energy bubbling beneath his surface. "Well," Ryan started, attempting a weak smile, "at least we know what were doing tomorrow. Were not playing basketball; were playing Get Jeremys Money Back From Scary Loan Sharks!" His joke fell flat, met with silence. He quickly sobered. Ethan, who had been silent, his gaze fixed on Jeremy, finally spoke. "Were going to help him." It wasnt a question, but a statement of fact. His voice was calm, but a steely resolve shone in his eyes. "Were a team," he continued, his gaze sweeping over each of their faces. "And teams dont leave their own to fight battles alone. Were going to figure this out, together." He turned back to Jeremy, his expression softening. "First things first, Jeremy, we need to know everything. How much do you owe? When is the deadline? What did those thugs say they would take?" Jeremy hesitated, his voice trembling slightly. "I... I owe them five thousand dollars. The deadline is tomorrow. They said... they said theyd take whatever they wanted from my house if I didnt pay." Five thousand dollars. The amount hung in the air, a daunting sum. It was more money than any of them had ever seen, let alone possessed. Ethans mind raced. He knew they couldnt come up with that kind of money overnight. They needed a plan, and fast. "Okay," Ethan said, his voice firm. "We need to think. If the deadline is tomorrow, and they said theyd be back... Id say we have until tomorrow night, at the latest." "Thats not a lot of time." Ayumi said, her voice tight with worry. "No, its not," Ethan agreed. "But its enough. Were not going to let those thugs take anything from Jeremy or his family." He looked at each of his teammates, his gaze unwavering. "Were going to fight for Jeremy. Just like we fight on the court. Were going to use our strengths, our skills, and our teamwork to get him out of this mess." A flicker of hope ignited in Jeremys eyes, mirroring the determination in Ethans. For the first time since this nightmare began, he felt a glimmer of relief, a sense that maybe, just maybe, he wasnt alone after all. "We need a plan," Ethan repeated, his voice firm. "And we need it now." Lucas, his mind already racing, asked, "Whats the plan, Ethan?" Evan, usually quiet, spoke up, his voice hesitant but thoughtful. "Ethan... maybe..." Ethan turned to Evan, his expression encouraging. "Maybe what, Evan?" Evan took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "Maybe we can use what were good at. Basketball. We can raise the money somehow." Louie Gees eyes lit up. "A game? We challenge those thugs to a game?" Ethan considered this, his brow furrowed. "A game... its a start. But five thousand dollars is a lot. Wed need something big." Evan shifted his weight, then blurted out, "I, uh, found this... big shot. He said his super team is stronger, and he says if we won, we get ten thousand dollars." Ethans eyebrows shot up. "Super team? Did other prodigy or monster teams beat them?" Evan shook his head. "Those teams didnt pay attention to his clout... after all, they have something to do. And those who did pay attention always got beaten." A murmur went through the team. Ten thousand dollars. That was double what Jeremy owed, enough to cover his debt and perhaps even help with his fathers medical bills. But a "super team" that no other "prodigy or monster team" had beaten sounded like a dangerous proposition. Ethans mind churned. This wasnt just about winning a game; it was about saving Jeremy. It was a risky play, but the stakes couldnt be higher. "Evan," Ethan said, his voice measured. "Tell me everything you know about this big shot and his super team. We need details, every single one." To be continue Chapter 139 - 126: Loan Shark (2) Chapter 139: Chapter 126: Loan Shark (2) "Evan," Ethan said, his voice measured. "Tell me everything you know about this big shot and his super team. We need details, every single one." Evan nodded quickly, nervous but excited. "Uh yeah okay. I was at this community court downtown a while back, just messing around and watching games. Some guy in a suitlike, real sharp dresser, shows up with this team of older players. College kids, maybe even semi-pro. He said they were the Blazing fox crew." Ethan narrowed his eyes. "That name sounds familiar...hmm" Evan continued, "He said they were looking for challengers. Offered ten thousand bucks to any high school team that could beat them. No entry fee, but only one game allowed per group. Said its easy moneyfor them." Coonie let out a low whistle. "So basically, theyre baiting desperate people." Louie nodded. "Like us." "But they underestimated us," Kai said softly, fists clenched. "Were not just desperate. Were hungry." Ethan stood, his eyes hardening with resolve. "Where can we find this team?" Evan pulled out his phone and scrolled to a saved message. "Tomorrow, 4 p.m., old Midtown Arena. The one with the glass roof. Thats where theyll be." Lucas then said "What else?" Evan. He leaned in, eyes sharp. "Alright... I tell you what else, but you didnt hear it from me." He folded his arms, thinking. "They call him Leonel Blaze the big shot. 65", pure talent, and he knows it. Plays point guard like hes orchestrating a symphony, and hes not even the scariest part of his team." Evan continued, voice low and serious. "Theyre not just good theyre built like theyre from another league. Blazing fox Academy recruited top talent from across the country. Its practically a super team of future pros." He started listing them off with precision: Leonel Blaze (PG) "The Maestro" C Elite court vision, unstoppable off the dribble. Rumors say he has a Zone Vision ability sees the court like time slows down. No pass goes to waste. Jace Holloway (SG) "The Phantom Shooter" C Deadly from anywhere past half court. Uses step-backs like clockwork. People say he trained under a pro in secret. If hes hot, he drops 40 without blinking. Malik "Titan" Reed (SF) Built like a linebacker. Strength and vertical that makes dunks look like cannon fire. Has a post-up game and range. Known for a power-based ability called "Rimquake." Noah Vance (PF) A tactical genius. Quiet, but sees the game five moves ahead. Known for a skill called "Anchor Lock" when he plants his feet, no one gets past him. Offensively, underrated. DeShawn Briggs (C) 70" with a wingspan that looks illegal. Rebounds, blocks, and putbacks all day. Some say his presence in the paint lowers everyones field goal percentage just from intimidation. Evan paused. "Theyve never lost. Not once. And its not just because theyre good, its because Leonel expects to win. He plays like the games beneath him. Like hes already living in the NBA." Then he looked Ethan dead in the eyes. "You wanted details. Heres the most important one, Leonel doesnt play for fun. He plays for dominance. If he finds out youre aiming to challenge him, he wont hold back." A silence settled between them for a second. "You still want to go up against that?" Evan asked. The room fell quiet after Evan finished. You could hear the faint buzzing of the old gym lights above. Everyone had stopped moving even the sound of bouncing balls outside the locker room seemed distant now, muffled by the weight of what Evan had just said. Josh Turner leaned back against the locker, arms crossed. "Damn..." he muttered, eyes narrowed. "So were walking into a slaughterhouse." Brandon Young, always the quietest among them, clenched his fists slowly. "They sound like monsters," he said, his voice low but steady. "But even monsters can bleed." Aiden White let out a shaky breath, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes darted around the room, searching for anything that might make the weight on his shoulders feel lighter, but there was nothing. Just the cold, peeling paint of the locker room and the oppressive silence that followed Evans intel. "So let me get this straight," he said, voice cracking slightly with disbelief. "Theyve got an elite playmaker who sees the court like a battlefield general, a sniper who doesnt miss from anywhere past half court, a tank that bulldozes through defenders, a chess master running their plays like a puppet master, and a skyscraper guarding the rim like a fortress..." He paused, then scoffed bitterly. "And were supposed to beat them so we can win that, ten thousand dollars? Just so Jeremy doesnt end up with his legs broken by some loan shark in a black van?" His words hit like bricks. The reality of it all wasnt just about pride anymore, it was life-or-death, for someone they all cared about. Silence followed. Then Lucas stepped forward, eyes locked with Aidens. His voice wasnt loud, but it had steel in it, conviction forged from something deeper than fear. "Even if theyre strong," Lucas said, "we still have to do it... we have to do what we can do." There was no hesitation. No wavering. Just truth. Ayumi, who had been silent the whole time, turned to look at Lucas. Her eyes softened, filled with a mix of worry and admiration. "Lucas..." she whispered. Something in the way he stood, in the quiet defiance in his voice, struck a chord in her. Louie leaned back against the bench, crossing his arms with a sly grin. "Heh... that shouldve been my line," he said with a chuckle. "Stealing my thunder, man." That small bit of humor cracked the tension. A few of the others smiled just a little but it was enough. They were still afraid. Still unsure. Jeremy looked up, his face still pale. "Youd do that for me?" Ethan didnt hesitate. "Were not doing this for you. Were doing it with you. Youre our teammate." The others nodded. Louie clapped Jeremy on the back. "Youre part of Vorpal Basket, man. That means something." Josh cracked his knuckles. "Time to show those so-called superstars what real grit looks like." Brandon chuckled. "Hope theyre ready to lose to some high schoolers." Ethans voice cut through the growing excitement. "This isnt going to be easy. If these guys are older and more experienced, were at a disadvantage. But weve got what they dont: trust. We fight for something bigger than money. We fight for each other." Louie grinned. "Weve faced worse odds. Remember the game against Venganzo remember?" "Yeah," Aiden added. "You came out alive." Ethan turned to Jeremy one last time. "Tomorrow, we win. And after that, we make sure Big King knows, were not afraid." And just like that, the quiet apartment felt lighter. There was a plan. There was hope. Tomorrow, theyd bet everything on the court. For five thousand dollars. For Jeremys family. For each other. .. Big King leaned back in his creaking chair, the wood groaning under his weight. He held the photo between two thick fingers, squinting at it as if it might reveal some hidden truth. His lips curled into something between a grin and a sneer. "So thats the kid, huh?" he muttered. "Ethan... and his little crew." He tossed the photo onto the table. It landed face up, a grainy shot of Ethan, Lucas, Aiden, and the others walking down a cracked sidewalk toward a run-down apartment complex. The thug nodded again, a nervous bead of sweat forming on his temple. "Yeah. We followed em for a while. Didnt look like no random visit. Looked like... like theyre planning something." Big Kings eyes narrowed. "Planning something, huh?" He reached for a half-empty bottle of whiskey and took a slow sip. Then he leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice low and dangerous. "Tell me, you think they know about the debt?" "I-I mean..." the thug stammered. "Maybe. Maybe theyre trying to help him out. That Ethan kid he looked serious." Big King tapped a calloused finger on the photo. Tap. Tap. Tap. He stood up, towering over the thug. "I want eyes on all of them. Especially that Ethan brat. If they try anything stupid" He stopped, cracked his knuckles one by one, the sound sharp and deliberate, "I want to know. And if they really want to pay off Jeremys debt..." He smiled, cruel and calm. "...Find out what they do" The thug flinched at the sound of Big Kings knuckles cracking, but nodded quickly, stuffing the photo back into his jacket. "Yes sir. Well shadow em day and night. Wont even breathe without us knowing." Big King grunted and walked slowly around the table, his heavy boots thudding on the stained concrete floor. He stopped behind the thug, resting a meaty hand on his shoulder. The pressure was immediate not painful, but a warning. "Good. Because if they mess this up..." His voice dropped to a near whisper, gravelly and cold. "...then Jeremy wont be the only one who bleeds." The thug swallowed hard. "Understood, sir." Big King released his grip and returned to his seat with a huff, grabbing a lighter and flicking it to life, lighting the stub of a cigar. Smoke curled upward as he leaned back again, gaze distant. "Find out what they do. Where they go. Who they talk to. If they even breathe like they have a plan, I want to know." He blew out a cloud of smoke. "If they want to play hero... then they better be ready to pay the price." He waved the thug off. "Go." The thug didnt hesitate, rushing out the door, already dialing a burner phone as he disappeared down the hallway. Big King sat in silence, eyes locked on the rising smoke as it twisted and vanished. "They think theyre stepping onto a court," he muttered. "But this... this is war." ... Meanwhile, at Blazing Fox Academy... The gym echoed with sharp squeaks of sneakers and the crisp rhythm of passing drills. But there was no laughter. No trash talk. Just precision, discipline, and an atmosphere thick with pressure, the kind that forged champions or crushed the unworthy. At center court, Leonel Blaze stood with arms crossed, his amber eyes scanning every movement with surgical precision. His face was unreadable not from boredom, but from unyielding expectation. To Leonel, excellence wasnt a goal. It was the starting point. "Again," he said flatly. The team ran the play again, flawlessly. The passes were crisp, the spacing perfect. But Leonel still shook his head. "That cut was late," he said. "Half a second slower, and we lose the passing lane." The players didnt argue. They adjusted. No one dared to question Leonels critique not because of fear, but because he was right. .. On the sideline, Coach Rios, a grizzled man with a shaved head and weathered features, leaned against his clipboard. Hed played internationally, won titles, and trained beasts. But even he knew what stood before him now. He looked at Leonel with a quiet nod. "Theyre not ready for you," Coach Rios said. Leonel didnt even glance his way. "They never are." In the far corner of the gym, Jace Holloway, the teams lethal shooter, was casually draining step-back threes from NBA range each one a clean swish. He wasnt even looking at the rim anymore. His head tilted slightly as he fired off another shot. "Yo, Leon," Jace called out, his voice echoing across the gym. "Which team do you thinks gonna challenge us again? The one with that ten-thousand-dollar prize?" Leonel turned slightly, just enough for his voice to carry. "I dont know," he said. "And it doesnt matter." "Cause this isnt about them." "Were doing this to get stronger than we were yesterday." "To sharpen our edge." "To break our limits." "And besides... the prize money?" Leonel glanced briefly at Coach Rios. "Its going to charity. We dont need it. But someone else might." Jace smirked. "Damn, bro. You always make it sound like were in a war." Leonel narrowed his eyes. "Thats because we are. Every game. Every second. We fight for every inch." Coach Rios watched quietly, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly. "Monsters," he muttered. "Ive raised monsters." The Blazing Fox Academy team went back to their drills, sharper, faster, colder. There was no cheer in their movements, no flair. Just ruthlessness. They werent just aiming to win. They were aiming to dominate. To be continue Chapter 140 - 127: Loan Shark (3) Chapter 140: Chapter 127: Loan Shark (3) August 6, 2010 The heat of the morning sun filtered through the dusty windows of the gym, casting long shadows as the team huddled near the whiteboard. Sweat dripped from their foreheads, not from drills but from pressure. The air was thick, not with tension, but anticipation. Ethan stood with arms crossed, eyes scanning his teammates one by one. His voice was calm, but steady with urgency. "So you said 4 p.m. were going there? The Old Town Arena?" Evan nodded. "Yeah. Thats where they said the match would be. They booked it out... probably expecting no one would dare show up." Ethans eyes narrowed. "Blazing Fox..." He didnt say anything more aloud, but his thoughts churned. "(Now I know about this Blazing Fox... these guys got dominated by the Gods Team. That was the arc where they introduced the Gods. I think... that parts not supposed to happen today.)" "(So if we fight the Blazing Fox now before the Gods arrive maybe were just... filling a gap. Maybe it wont change anything. Maybe itll still happen exactly as written.)" "(But still... their loss to the Gods was a devastating one a statement. If we beat Blazing Fox today, it wont be as clean or brutal as what the Gods did. But... itll mean something to us.)" Ethan looked up again, meeting Lucass eyes and then Ayumis, Evans, Joshs, Aidens, Brandons, and Ryans. As Ethan remained silent, lost in his thoughts, the rest of the team started murmuring among themselves, voices filled with both concern and resolve. Lucas leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Ethan, what strategy would we use to defeat them? Its still 8 a.m. today, so we have time." Josh crossed his arms, nodding. "We cant just rely on raw effort. Their squad is built like a machine if we rush in headfirst, theyll tear us apart." Aiden scratched his chin, pacing a little. "We need to isolate their weakest link. Every great team has one, even if its buried deep. Find it, and break their rhythm." Brandon leaned against the wall, arms folded. "If that Jace guy is as deadly as Evan says, we might need someone to shadow him the entire game. Deny him space deny him rhythm." Ryan chimed in with a shrug, "What about their center? Leonel Blaze. Dudes a skyscraper with court vision. If we let him control the pace, were toast." Ayumi looked between them, serious. "We dont have the raw strength, but we can outsmart them. If we study how they rotate and time our counters, we can create cracks." Evan added, adjusting his glasses, "Ive got some footage of their last scrimmage. We can analyze their defensive gaps and see how their playmaker reacts under pressure. Give me a few minutes, Ill pull it up." Lucas turned to Ethan again, voice steadier this time. "Weve got heart, Ethan. We just need direction. Youre the only one we are counting on... so tell us. Whats the plan?" ... Ethan sat up straight, his eyes sharpening with determination. "Give me the footage. I want to know how good they really are." Evan quickly pulled out his tablet and began tapping. "Alright, here. This is from their last practice match. Watch how they move during the second quarter" As the clip played, Ethan leaned forward, eyes tracking every motion on the screen their screens, off-ball movement, defensive rotations, even their body language. Ayumi tilted her head, watching Ethan. "Wait... just by analyzing some footage, you can counter them?" Ethan didnt take his eyes off the screen. After a few more seconds, he paused the video and pointed to a moment in the play. "Right there. Their center, Leonel, is reading the court and making decisions faster than most point guards. But watch the weak side the corner defender always cheats inside when he thinks help is coming. Thats a gap." He continued, voice steady, precise. "Jace, their shooter, relies on rhythm he only gets hot when the first two shots drop. Deny him those, and he gets hesitant. His confidence is everything. Well switch a quick, aggressive defender on him in the first quarter to shake him up early." The team leaned in, drawn to his voice. "Their ball screens are tight too tight. If we bait the handler into over-committing, we can trap and force a bad pass. Once we rattle the point guard, their entire flow stutters. From there, we switch tempo constantly fast breaks one quarter, slowed sets the next. Keep them off balance." He turned to Lucas. "Lucas, youll mirror Leonel off the ball. Dont challenge him head-on frustrate him with timing. Ayumi, cover passing angles like youre reading his mind. We need pressure without fouls." There was a long pause. Then "As expected of you, Ethan... youre a genius!" Ryan said, eyes wide. "Thats wild..." Ryan muttered. "Its like youve already played them before." Evan grinned. "You just tore them apart with words alone. Damn." Brandon added with a slow nod, "If we follow this plan, we might actually take them down." Ayumi stared at Ethan, genuinely shocked. Her voice was a whisper. "Theyre all... listening to him like his words are the truth. Like its the only thing that matters..." Ethan stood slowly, his voice calm but firm. "We dont beat them with strength. We beat them with precision. With trust. Trust in the plan. Trust in each other." Everyone nodded. At that moment, it wasnt just about surviving a game or paying a debt. It was about proving something to the world, to themselves. And they had their leader. With the plan laid out and their path ahead clearer than ever, the team didnt waste time. The gym floor buzzed with sneakers, the echo of bouncing balls, and shouts of timing drills. But this time... it felt different. There was purpose. Ethan stood at the sideline with his arms crossed, watching as the team executed a full-court press drill. Lucas and Evan worked together seamlessly, switching on screens like theyd done it for years. "Again!" Evan shouted, tossing the ball back. Lucas smiled as he ran back to position. "You really turned into a coach overnight, huh?" Evan smirked. "I just dont want you to slack off, starboy." Josh was practicing catch-and-shoot drills in the corner. Ayumi tossed him a pass without looking Swish. Josh raised an eyebrow. "Nice pass." Ayumi gave a casual shrug. "I have to keep up. Genius says Im reading minds today." Ayumi glanced at Ethan, who had knelt by the whiteboard, updating new counter-plays. He looked up briefly and gave her a rare thumbs-up. She blinked. "...He actually complimented me?" Ryan and Brandon were doing rebounding contests under the hoop, shoulder-checking each other while laughing. "Three out of five!" Ryan shouted, grabbing a board. "Hey, thats my win!" "Not if I block your shot after!" Brandon grinned, lightly tapping the ball away. In the far corner, Kai was stretching out, watching the team dynamic unfold with a thoughtful expression. "Team such a nice word..." he muttered. Coonie jogged over and nudged him with an elbow. "Yeah. Also Were not just teammates now. Were soldiers in the same battle." Kai nodded slowly, a rare smile tugging at the edge of his lips. As the team ran transition drills, energy high and movement sharp "Whats up, boys!!" A loud, arrogant voice boomed from the gym entrance. Everyone froze mid-motion. Sneakers skidded. The ball bounced once, then rolled to a stop. They turned toward the doors. Theyre stood Brick smug as ever, arms wide like he owned the place with six new faces flanking him. Muscles, tattoos, chains, and crooked smirks. His "goons" looked more like street brawlers than basketball players. Lucass eyes narrowed. "Why are you here again!!" Brick stepped forward, chuckling. "Didnt I tell you clowns wed be back?" He threw his arm back, gesturing to the new crew. "Meet my comrades. You think last time was bad? Youre paying up Jeremys debt, or youre all getting beat into pulp today." The gym fell quiet. The tension in the air turned ice cold. Ethan didnt move. He simply stared. Analyzing. Coonie clenched his fists. "These guys again? On game day?" Ryan stepped up beside him. "Theyve got no shame." Aiden clicked his tongue, annoyed. "We dont have time for this crap." But Ayumi... her eyes were locked on one person. Lucas. Her childhood friend stood still, silent... but his shoulders were stiff, his jaw clenched. She knew that look. That guilt. That pressure. "...Lucas," she said softly. He didnt look at her. Not yet. Brick walked closer, stopping just short of the center court line. "Whats the matter? Yall got quiet real fast. You hiding behind this girl now too?" Ayumi stepped forward, voice firm. "Youre trespassing. Leave." Brick sneered. "Aww, still trying to act like the boss? Cmon, cutie-chan. Jeremys debt is your debt." Lucas finally stepped forward. His voice was quiet. But sharp. "You think were scared of you?" Brick blinked. Caught off guard by the shift in tone. Lucas turned to glance at his teammates, then at Ayumi. She saw it the fire in his eyes. That spark of the real Lucas. The one who didnt run. The one who stood up. Lucas clenched his fists. "If you touch them" But before he could finish, another voice cut through like a blade. Ethan stepped forward. Calm. Unshaken. "Dont worry." He met Bricks eyes. "Well pay you. Tomorrow." Brick tilted his head. "Tomorrow?" He raised a brow, his tone mocking. Ethan nodded. "Well have the money tomorrow." "And if you dont?" Brick asked, stepping closer now, the threat obvious in his voice. "What if you break the promise?" Ethan didnt flinch. His answer was clear. Sharp. "Then do whatever you want with me." The gym fell silent. Everyone just stood there watching and Lucas... Lucass eyes widened. "Ethan!!!" he shouted, stepping forward. "Dont say that like its nothing!" But Ethan just looked ahead. "Im not letting anyone else take the fall." His voice didnt waver. "This isnt just Jeremys debt anymore. Its ours." "Youre not alone, idiot," Lucas snapped. "Were a team. You dont get to offer yourself up like that." Ayumi stared at Ethan stunned. He didnt talk like a hero. He didnt say it for show. He meant every word. Brick smirked. "Heh. Youre either brave or stupid." He pointed a thick finger at Ethan. "Tomorrow. If I dont see ten grand... Ill be collecting." He turned without waiting for a reply, his goons following. The door slammed shut behind them. Silence. Then Lucas grabbed Ethan by the collar. Not hard. But enough to shake him. "What the hell was that, Ethan? Youre not some pawn we can just sacrifice." Ethan didnt back down. "Im not sacrificing anything. Im betting on us." He looked around at everyone. At Ayumi. At Lucas. "We win today. We get the prize. And we pay off the debt. Thats the plan." Everyone looked at him and there was something magnetic in his eyes. Determination. Conviction. Belief. Ayumi whispered, barely audible "...Youre serious." And no one questioned it. They believed. To be continue Chapter 141 - 128: Loan Shark (4) Chapter 141: Chapter 128: Loan Shark (4) 4:00 PM Old Midtown Arena The air inside the old gym was stale, faded banners hung like forgotten memories, and the bleachers creaked under shifting weight as various teams milled about, each hoping for their shot at Blazing Fox. Ethan stood near the edge of the court, eyes sharp, scanning the space. He turned to Evan. "You already called them, right? That were challenging them?" Evan nodded. "Yeah. I did. But... they said theyre going to draw lots, to pick which team they play today. I mean, a lot of teams challenged them so..." Ethans expression darkened. "...So youre saying its not guaranteed that we play them today?" Evan scratched the back of his head. "I mean... yeah. Thats what I was trying to tell you." "Are you kidding us!?" Louies voice cut the air like a whip. He stormed toward Evan, face tight with frustration. "Ethans life and soul are on the line for this, and youre telling me it might come down to some stupid lottery!?" Evan winced. "I didnt know thered be this many teams, okay? Blazing Fox is hot right now. Everyone wants to prove themselves." Lucas frowned. "Tch... so we might not even get our chance?" Ayumi, standing beside them with crossed arms, lowered her gaze. "What do we do now...?" Ethan raised a hand, calmly. "Enough," he said, his tone steady but not forceful just focused. He looked at them all. At the frustration carved deep into Louies scowl. At the quiet fear glinting behind Ayumis eyes. At Evans slouched posture, the doubt hanging on his shoulders. Then, Ethan spoke with unsettling clarity: "We just have to pray to God... that our name gets picked." For a moment, silence. The air felt heavier. The gym, louder somehow, though no one in their group made a sound. Josh finally muttered, "Thats it? After all that planning?" His voice wasnt angry. Just... disappointed. Ethan didnt break eye contact. "If we get picked, we fight. If not, then we have to think of a way... to get picked." Coonies jaw clenched as he stared at the court. "If we dont get picked... Jeremys debt is going to shit." Kai cursed under his breath. "Fk... We just have to pray." Then Lucas turned, slowly facing Ethan, his voice low and pointed: "Ethan... Youre going to pay too, you know? You made a deal on that guys name, Brick. If this falls through... its not just Jeremy. Youre on the line too." Everyone looked at Ethan now. But Ethan just nodded, his voice unwavering. "I know. And thats why were not going to wait for a miracle. But Ethan just nodded, his voice unwavering. "I know. And thats why were not going to wait for a miracle." Lucas furrowed his brows. "What do you mean by that?" Brandon and Ryan exchanged a glance, sensing something strange behind Ethans calm. But Ethan didnt answer right away. He stood there. No, he didnt just stand there. He was staring forward... but not at anything they could see. In front of him, a transparent glowing screen hovered silently, the Basketball System Interface. Only Ethan could see it. His power. His secret weapon. And right now, he needed it. Ethan thought "(System... can you recommend me some luck? I need to get picked after all...)" [SYSTEM]: "Affirmative, Host. Initiating Luck Enhancement Protocol..." DING! [LUCK BOOST PACKAGE AVAILABLE C COST: 1000 SP] (Ethan blinked.) "(Hmm. Thats cheap. Ill buy it.)" [CONFIRMED C 1000 SP DEDUCTED] [LUCK INCREASED TEMPORARILY C SELECTION ODDS BOOSTED 500%] Ethan exhaled quietly. It was done. Whatever force decided which team got picked next, it would now notice them. He finally turned to Lucas, the faintest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "Just trust me." Lucas blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Ethans expression confident, almost... assured. Ayumi stared too. The others stood straighter. There was something different about him now. Like he already knew they would be chosen. .. A low murmur spread throughout the Old Midtown Arena. Teams clustered together in tight huddles, whispering strategies or nervously glancing at the digital board overhead. It was like being at the edge of a battlefield before the first gunshot. The draw would start in five minutes. Ethan stood quietly, arms folded, eyes scanning the crowdbut his mind was focused elsewhere. (System... status?) [SYSTEM]: "LUCK BOOST ACTIVE C 00:04:58 REMAINING." (Good... Its working. All we need is a chance.) Across from him, Lucas crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. "You sure about this, Ethan?" Ethan didnt look at him, just gave a slight nod. "I am. Well be called." Ayumi, standing beside Lucas, glanced between them, her voice hesitant. "You seem so sure. Like... you already saw the future or something." (Thats not far off...) But Ethan didnt say anything. He didnt have to. The confidence in his posture was starting to bleed into the rest of them. Even Coonie, the most skeptical of the bunch, leaned forward slightly, lips pressing into a firm line as he muttered, "Guess we just wait then..." Suddenly, a blaring chime echoed through the arena. All teams stopped moving. The giant digital screen flashed in the center of the gymnasium: [RANDOM CHALLENGE LOTTERY C INITIATING] From the booth above, a voice buzzed over the loudspeakers. "All participating teams, please standby. A challenger will be selected to face the Blazing Fox Academy..." The screen flashed rapidly, names cycling at blinding speed. One second. Two. Three. Then DING! [SELECTED TEAM: VORPAL BASKET] Dead silence. Then someone screamed, "THATS US!" Lucass eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. "WaitWHAT?!" Ayumi gasped, both hands flying to her mouth. "We actually...?!?" Coonie dropped his water bottle, stunned. "Holyhow?!" Louie started laughing in disbelief, "No way. Theres no way!" Ethan didnt move. He didnt need to. The draw was over. They were in. (System... you really came through.) [SYSTEM]: "Hosts faith is rewarded. Luck Boost completed." The announcers voice thundered again, "Vorpal Basket, report to Court 1 in ten minutes. Blazing Fox awaits." The arena buzzed with renewed chatter. Heads turned toward their direction. Other teams whispered, some scoffing, others curious. Ryan blinked hard, trying to grasp what just happened. "Yo... did we just?" Brandon finished for him, "Get the fight of our lives? Yeah." Lucas turned to Ethan, still trying to process it. "Dude. That wasnt just luck, was it?" Ethan looked at him, finally smiling. "Does it matter?" Ayumi shook her head slowly, a spark of realization dawning in her eyes. "You really are something else, Ethan..." The team started gathering their gear. The atmosphere changed, no longer doubtful, no longer hoping for a chance. Now, they had a purpose. Kai clapped Louie on the back. "Time to cash in that 10k debt." Aiden adjusted his armband. "We trained for this. Lets make it count." Ethans mind was focused. (This is the turning point. The novel said it was supposed to be the Gods Team that crushed Blazing Fox today... but now were taking their place. That means weve already started altering the timeline.) (And if we beat them... the future wont follow the script anymore.) They marched across the gym, heads held high, standing taller than they had all morning. The arena lights dimmed slightly as they approached Court 1, highlighting the gleaming polished floor and the figures already standing on the opposite side. There they were. Blazing Fox Academy. Leonel Blaze stood in the center, just as icy and unbothered as the rumors said. His arms crossed, expression unreadable. Beside him, Jace Holloway casually spun a ball on his fingertip, chewing gum and wearing his trademark smirk. The rest of the Foxes looked ready. Calm. Controlled. Waiting. Leonels eyes finally landed on Ethan. No words. Just a silent stare. Like a lion observing prey. Ethan didnt flinch. He stared back. Not as prey. But as a challenger. The ref blew his whistle. "Five-minute warm-up. Then tip-off." Ayumi, standing at the bench, pulled out her clipboard. Her hands shook slightly, but she smiled through it. "Lets give them hell, boys." The team stepped onto the court one by one, soaking in the atmosphere. Each dribble, each layup in warm-up now carried weight. Everyone was watching. The no-name team. The underdogs. Vorpal Basket. "You really trust we can win this, huh?" Ethan met his gaze. "Its not about trust anymore." He looked up at the scoreboard. Then back at Blazing Fox. "Its about conviction that we will win." (Lets see what happens when the Extra takes center stage.) The soft bounce of basketballs echoed across Court 1, but the tension in the air crackled like static before a thunderstorm. Leonel Blaze stood motionless at the free-throw line, his eyes locked on the team opposite him, Vorpal Basket. His arms were folded across his chest, face unreadable, but inside... (Thats the team that got picked? Out of all the applicants?) He watched them closely not with arrogance, but with something colder. Calculation. Ethan Albarado. The one standing at the center of his squad, calm, grounded, and not flinching even under the weight of the crowd. (He doesnt look nervous. He doesnt look excited either. Thats not normal. Thats... control.) Next to Ethan, Lucas Graves was spinning the ball on his finger with forced confidence, his eyes flicking toward the Blazing Fox team every so often. (That ones acting tougher than he is. But Ive seen players like him crack the moment pressure mounts.) Ryan, Brandon, Louie, Josh, Evan Leonels gaze swept over each of them. (Amateurs. But moving like theyve been coached well. Someone whipped them into shape fast.) Then Leonels eyes landed back on Ethan. (Hes the reason theyre holding together.) Jace Holloway let out a low whistle from beside Leonel, flicking the ball behind his back lazily and watching Vorpals warm-up. "Yo Leon... ever seen a rookie team that confident before?" Leonel didnt answer right away. Jace grinned, stretching his arms. "Theyre not scared, man. I kinda like that. Aint it fun when they actually believe they can win?" Leonel finally spoke, eyes still locked on Ethan. "Confidence is cheap. Im watching for decisions." Jace raised a brow. "So, whatre you seeing?" Leonel tilted his head slightly, arms still folded. "Theyre coordinated... surprisingly so." His brow furrowed just a bit. "Vorpal Basket... where did I hear that before..." Jaces eyes lit up in realization. He snapped his fingers. "Oh! I know them. They went viral on YouTube last week." Leonel blinked, finally turning to look at Jace. "Viral?" "Yeah," Jace grinned, stretching a shoulder. "Small school. Always lost their games, like, badly. Then out of nowhere they won one. And not just won crushed a solid team. People were calling it a fluke, but the clips showed some serious skill." He nodded toward the other side of the court. "The MVP of that game was that dude blond hair, kind of calm looking. Thats Ethan Albarado." Leonels eyes narrowed. "Ethan... Albarado?" "Yeah. And the other one, the flashy guy with the black hair and gold eyes thats Lucas Graves. They said he did some crazy moves. Weird footwork, killer layups. Got people calling him the copycat kid or something." Leonel absorbed that in silence. (So theyre not just randoms. Theyve got noise around them. Albarado... Graves...) He looked again. The way Ethan stood, his posture, his stillness, it was unnatural in a way that made sense to Leonel. It was the stillness of someone calculating every single possibility in the moment. Leonel muttered under his breath. "Thats not high school composure. Thats something else." Jace chuckled beside him. "Youre actually worried?" Leonel didnt answer immediately. Then: "No. Im interested." (Theyre not just here to play. They came to change something. That energy... its disruptive.) (If Albarado is the glue, and Graves the spark... then who taught them how to move like that? No team goes from rock bottom to refined coordination in a single win unless theres a system. Well, thats just a novel and fiction type of thing.) He narrowed his eyes further, watching Ethan speak to his team at half court. His movements were minimal, but they reacted fast nodding, adjusting, understanding. "Theyre not just playing basketball," Leonel said quietly. "Theyre running a plan." Jace raised an eyebrow. "What kind of plan?" Leonels jaw tightened. "A dangerous one." ..... Meanwhile, on the other end of the court... Ethan glanced toward the Blazing Fox team again. Leonel was watching not casually, not arrogantly but measuring. (He knows.) (Hes not underestimating us like I hoped. Hes already dissecting us. That means hes elite... No wasted thoughts. No wasted motion.) (Leonel Blaze is stronger than the system says. His stats dont show how cold his mind is.) (And Jace Holloway that guys no second fiddle. Hes too loose. Players like him explode when the game opens up.) Lucas walked up beside Ethan, dribbling a ball slowly. "Theyre talking about us." Ethan didnt look away. "Let them." Aiden smirked. "Feels weird. Being the underdogs and having the spotlight." Ethan said nothing. Then turned toward his team. "Form up. Game starts in one." They nodded. Evan bounced nervously in place. Aiden keep himself composed Josh tightened his shoes. Louie exhaled slowly. Ryan and Brandon clenched their fists. They all felt it. The moment before everything changed. To be continue Chapter 142 - 129: Loan Shark (5) Chapter 142: Chapter 129: Loan Shark (5) The tip\off felt like the first breath before a storm. Under the bright arena lights, both teams circled the circle, anticipation electric in the air. The announcers voice faded into the background as the players locked eyes, each heartbeat a drumbeat in the silent moment before the clash. "Here we go," I murmured, standing beside the court. My clipboard had been set aside now wasnt the time for diagrams. It was time for action. Vorpal Baskets starters took their places: #11 Ryan Taylor C Power Forward, crouched low, muscles coiled. #10 Lucas Graves C Shooting Guard, calm yet hungry. #8 Josh Turner C Small Forward, agile and watchful. #15 Brandon Young C Center, a solid presence. #9 Evan Cooper C Point Guard, focused, ball in hand. Across the line stood the Blazing Fox roster: Leonel Blaze C Point Guard, the Maestro, eyes glowing with strategic fire. Jace Holloway C Shooting Guard, the Phantom Shooter, relaxed but lethal. Malik "Titan" Reed C Small Forward, built like a tank. Noah Vance C Power Forward, stoic, calculating. DeShawn Briggs C Center, a giant shadow looming over the paint. The referee tossed the ball high. Ryan leapt and tapped it, it spun forward. Evan swooped in. "Tips ours," Ryan said quietly as Evan grabbed control. "Lock in," I mouthed. Every player shifted into defensive mode. Evan dribbled between his legs, a signal. Ryan slid toward the elbow. Lucas took wing position, his feet whispering against the floor. Brandon angled himself on the block. On the Blazing Fox side, Leonel started the offensehis feet were still, his mind already in motion. Jace leaned one-way, baiting defenders. Titan eyes the left lane. Noah squared his shoulders at the high post. DeShawn towered at the rim. "Watch their setup," I reminded my team. Evan called the play. He ran a series: Evan to Ryan, quick swing to Lucas. The ball zipped left, but I couldnt take my eyes off Leonel how he shifted his weight in sync with each pass. (Hes not just watching. Hes predicting.) Klaw. Lucas squared up for the catch. "We swing back!" Lucas commanded. He passed to Josh, who jab\stepped into the top of the key. Across from Josh, Jace slidinstant recognition. (Their shooter reads body language like X\ray.) Evan drifted to the wing, giving options. Ryan set a screen on Titan, and Josh drove hard off the pick pivot\step, shoulder lean but Leonel anticipated. The moment the drive started, Titan slammed his shoulder into Joshs chest. "No easy lane," Titan growled. Josh stumbled, stepped back. Evan sensed the collapse and flung a no\look bullet to Brandon. "On you," I said under my breath. Brandon caught and pivoted. DeShawn burst forward, arms raised. Briggs walls the paint. Brandon powered forward, spunhe almost got past DeShawn, but the big man rose like a wall and blocked the shot. The ball rattled out; I saw Noah and Titan collapse beneath the rim. Titan outmuscles Ryan, grabs the board. "Push!" I shouted. Titan emerged with brute dribble. He slithered around Ryan toward the free\throw line. (Titans strength... but Ryans endurance holds.) Ryan mirrored his path, stance low. Titan paused, eyes scanning. He nodded at Leonel, who sprinted to the wing. Jace faked center, then streaked to the corner. Evan tracked Jace; I watched for that step\back. When Titan tossed it out to Leonel, Jace was open but Christians drilled, and Jace caught, rose. (Phantom Shooters move...) Jaces step\back arcswishthe shot split the defense. The crowd gasped. "4C0 Blazing," the announcer boomed. I clenched my jaw. (Not panic. Instead: reset.) Ryan jogged back on defense. "Reset!" I barked. "Switch to drop zone on their shooters." At half court, I gathered my starters: Lucas tightened his grip. Josh took a deep breath. Brandon flexed his wrists. Evans eyes met mine. "We adapt. They scored with flowI want disruption." (Lets slow them down... turn their tempo into ours.) Evan nodded. "We go Sprawl\Chaospressure in the arc, deny space." I could see Brandon shift his weight. He was ready. "Finish this quarter strong," Lucas said, more to himself than to the others. They nodded. Back on court Leonel brought up again, calm energy. He motioned to Titan and Noah rolled high. Evan stepped out, contesting the pass lanes. Lucas slid to Jaces hip. Ryan glared at Titan, stance sharp. Brandon positioned on DeShawns chest. The Vultures offense haltedthey had to pick a setting. Titan hammered inside, but Ryan held his ground. DeShawn spun around Brandon but Brandon didnt bite stayed balanced. Evan jumped in front of a Leonel bounce. He denied the drive. "Switch!" I called out. Lucas slid onto Leonel. He angled his body to block the path but gave just enough space to bait the dribble. Leonel jabbed left cut in. (Here comes my Zone Vision...) Leonels step slowed. Time...and almost...stretched. Evan lunged for a steal but missed. Leonel hit the first half-court cross. He paused. He eyed the split. (Now.) I thought. Evan collapsed to help. Leonel sensed it. He flung an alley\oop pass to Titan cutting. Titan caught mid-driftcrash. Slamm, the rim rattled. The place erupted. "6C0." I wiped sweat running through my hair. (Two plays inits already this high-intensity.) Lucas jogged back with the others. "Keep calm," he said. "Our times coming." I nodded. My mind ticked through adjustments. My team looked to me. I exhaled. "They hit with Blitz\Ball fast lanes off Ivy dribble. We slow their spacing. We bait them into half\court. Use our press and stay sharp. Understood?" They nodded resilient eyes. We had a plan. .... Bench breath: Aiden, Coonie, Kai, and Ayumi watched from the sideline, hearts pounding. Aiden whispered: "We cant let them run." Coonie shook his head: "That alley\oop tore us, man." Kai clenched both fists: "Well adjust." Ayumi bit her lip, concern warring with pride. The game continued, each team feeding off the others fuel. The scoreboard, the clock, the constant shift of momentum, everything felt alive. In that cauldron of roar and footsteps, we took breath and moved forward. .. Lucas POV "6C0." I looked up at the scoreboard. Still the first quarter. 7:03 left. Plenty of time. But if we let them control the rhythm any longer... its going to spiral. I turned and jogged back on offense, sweat already gathering under my chin. The court felt heavier now. Not just because of the Blazing Foxs pressure but because of what was at stake. Jeremys debt. Ethans promise. My pride. Brandon passed the ball in to Evan. He called out a set, but Leonel was already moving reading, stalking. That dude doesnt play like a high schooler... he plays like hes been doing this for a decade. Jace shadowed me. Smooth. Relaxed. Arrogant. (He doesnt respect me yet. Good. Thats when Im most dangerous.) I curled off Ryans screen and sprinted toward the arc. Evan faked a handoff, then passed to Josh. Josh jabbed, pulled the defender, and flung it back to me. I caught it. Instinct kicked in. Dribble. Plant. Rise. My form felt clean elbow tight, wrist snapping. But in a blur, Jace appeared. His hand brushed the arc of my shot. "Tch." The ball rimmed out, kissed iron, and bounced. Titan snagged the rebound like it was nothing and whipped it to Leonel. Damn. I backpedaled. (I rushed it. He baited me into a fast shot. Gotta slow it down.) They brought it up again. Leonel dribbled like he owned the world. Calm. Sharp. Dangerous. I hated how smooth he looked. The crowd watched him like he was already famous. He swung to Jace, who pulled up and didnt even glance at me. Net. Three more. "9C0." I clenched my jaw. (We havent even scored once. Were letting them showboat.) We gathered around near half-court; Evan slowed the ball down. Ethan stood on the sideline; hands cupped around his mouth. "Run Double Reverse Ghost!" Evan nodded. That was a play we barely practiced. A weird, misdirection-heavy set Ethan created last week. But this was the kind of chaos we needed. Josh cut hard baseline. I followed, crossing behind him. Ryan and Brandon crisscrossed up top, two hard screens. I slipped under Brandons shoulder, popped out top key. Evan hit me and this time, Jace was a step too slow. I rose again. "Get in," I whispered. Swish. First blood. The bench clapped. Ayumi stood, hand over her heart. I saw her eyes, they glowed with something proud. "9C3," Evan called out as we set our defense. (Thats it. We just need rhythm. We dont need to panic. We just need to fight.) I glanced toward Ethan, who was scribbling something on his clipboard. Always thinking. Always watching. And somehow... everyone listens to him. ... Blazing Fox inbounded. Leonel walked it up again. He looked over and locked eyes with me, just for a second. There wasnt hate in his stare. There was boredom. Like he didnt think I was worth remembering. (Fine then. Keep thinking that.) He passed to Jace, who was curling wide again. But Josh was there this time. Chest out. Feet ready. "Hands up!" Brandon barked from the post. Titan cut across the paint, but Ryan stayed in his hip. Evan dropped to help. They didnt get a clean shot. Leonel passed it back out, they reset. Shot clock ticked to 7. He tried to drive on Evan but Evan poked it! Loose ball! I dove, slapped it toward Josh. Josh scooped it up and took off. Fast break. Lets go. Jace chased but Josh was too fast. One dribble. Euro step. Layup. Clean. "9C5." Now it was their bench getting quiet. As I jogged back, exhaling hard. (Theyre human. They bleed.) As we reset, I looked at Ethan. He didnt say anything. Just nodded. That was enough. We still had time. And we werent done yet. .. Meanwhile... Leonel Blaze dribbled the ball slowly past half court, eyes scanning the defense but his mind was elsewhere. (Lucas Graves...) He remembered the look on the kids face after that last three. Not fear. Not frustration. Fire. That same stubborn fire Leonel had seen in only a few players before players who refused to let the scoreboard define them. Players who got better the more you tried to shut them down. He had seen Lucass highlights before. That viral clip. The underdog team. The win. Back then, Leonel didnt care. But now? Now, he could feel it. (Hes not just playing to win. Hes playing like his lives on the line.) Leonels eyes narrowed as Lucas slid up to Jaces hip on defense, never giving him a clean look. Fluid, quick reactions. Hands ready. Eyes focused. (Hes still raw. Footworks not polished. Timings a bit off. But hes learning... every possession.) He crossed the ball once, twice, then passed off to Titan and began drifting to the weak side. As he moved, he stole another glance at Lucas. (Youre not scared of us. Thats rare.) He thought about what Jace said earlier. "(That blond kid? Ethan Albarado. And the black-haired one with golden eyes? Lucas Graves.)" Leonel smirked to himself. (Lucas Graves, huh? Youre starting to piss me off... in a good way.) Because it wasnt just about winning for Leonel. He wanted to test people. To break them. To see what came out of the cracks. And Lucas? Lucas wasnt cracking. Not yet. (Alright. Lets see how far you go before you do.) He signaled for an iso. Jace waved off. Malik backed away. The play wasnt about scoring this time. It was about sending a message. Leonel passed the ball to Titan on the block, then jogged toward the corner, directly in front of Lucas. He stopped. Turned. And stared. The crowd murmured, sensing tension. Lucas didnt flinch. Leonel smiled, a flicker of something more than amusement in his eyes. "Show me something, Graves." (Because if you dont... Ill end this game myself.) To be continue Chapter 143 - 130: Loan Shark (6) Chapter 143: Chapter 130: Loan Shark (6) Lucas locked eyes with Leonel. The arena around them buzzed with faint noise, sneakers squeaking, murmurs from the crowd, Ayumis voice shouting encouragement but for a moment, all of that faded. All that existed was Lucas Graves and Leonel Blaze. One trying to rise. The other already standing at the summit. Leonel leaned forward ever so slightly, as if intrigued. "Youre not going to run away like the others, are you?" Lucas didnt respond. Instead, he took a step forward, closing the space, chest up, ready. "I will never run from you." he said quietly. Jace, over by the wing, laughed. "Yo, Leon! You letting him talk to you like that?" Leonel raised one hand without breaking eye contact with Lucas a casual wave to silence Jace. "Its fine," Leonel said. "I like players who believe they have a chance." But inside, a thought ticked in his head: (Youre still just a shadow, Lucas Graves. But shadows stretch longer when the lights brightest... Lets see how long you can survive in it.) ... On the bench, Ethan watched the exchange unfold. He narrowed his eyes. (So thats Leonel Blaze in real-time. Not just some highlight reel. Not just a name in the novel... Hes trying to mentally shake Lucas already.) He tapped his clipboard, muttering under his breath. "Stay sharp, Lucas... Dont let him own your head." Ayumi, standing beside him, clenched her fists. Her eyes hadnt left Lucas. "Hes not the same Lucas as before," she whispered. "I know that fire. He only shows it when it really matters." Ethan nodded. "And today matters more than anything." .... Back on the court, Titan dished the ball back out to Leonel. The point guard caught it near the top of the key, eyes already locked into his internal map of the court. The ball barely stayed in his hand for more than a heartbeat. A whip-pass to Jace. Jace didnt even look, he just shot. Swish. The net barely moved. Josh slapped the baseline in frustration. "Damn it! He didnt even look!" Lucas shook his head. "He doesnt have to. That was practiced. Automated." Evan inbounded fast; Brandon set a half-screen as Evan sprinted up. Ethan shouted from the sideline. "Dont let the tempo shift! Stay in your rhythm!" Ryan called out the play "Four-split swing! Run it!" Lucas slid into position. Josh curled from the wing. Brandon dropped into the post. And just as Evan came off the second screen, he zipped a bounce pass behind his back right to Ryan. Ryan pump-faked, then drove baseline two steps in and kicked it back out to Josh. Josh launched a three. It kissed the rim... rolled. And dropped in. Crowd roared. 9C8. The scoreboard glowed with promise for now. Leonel barely blinked. He walked the ball up. (Decent ball movement. Josh can shoot. Evans got control. Ryans reading the floor okay. But the center... Brandons not used to speed. Thats a mismatch.) He gave one subtle nod. Noah Vance, the Blazing Fox power forward, shifted his stance. Titan Reed clapped once. "Lets make them sweat." The ball zipped, Leonel to Jace, Jace to Noah, Noah faked then sent it inside to Deshawn Briggs, their 7-footer center. Brandon braced up feet set but Deshawn barely noticed him. He caught. Pivoted. BOOM. A dunk that rattled the rim like thunder. 11C8. The bench of Blazing Fox stood and shouted. ... Ethan didnt react. He turned to the bench. "Louie, Aiden. Kai. Watch Briggs. His second step is where the opening is not the first." Aiden nodded. Louie said "Roger that!" Kai, eyes narrowed, whispered, "Got it." Ayumi gripped her clipboard. "Ethan... youre calm. Even now?" "Im thinking," he said. "Theyll underestimate us. But thats the moment we flip the game." .... Back on the court, Lucas ran his fingers through his black hair. Golden eyes burning. He looked over at Ethan. Saw him nod once. And he understood. No fear. No backing down. Just the game. Ayumi, watching from the bench, gripped her clipboard tighter. (Hes not giving up. No matter how many times they knock him down.) Ethan cupped his hands and called out to the team. "Run Black Ice! Shift formation. Well break their perimeter. Ryan slip screen on Jace. Lucas, relocate corner! Evan, fake high and swing!" Leonel watched it all unfold. He dribbled casually; hands loose. But his thoughts? (Youre still standing, Lucas. Hm.) (Alright. Lets raise the temperature.) .. Lucas stood near the top of the arc, hands on his knees, breathing heavy. The score read 11C8 still trailing. But momentum? It was cracking. Something was shifting. (This guy... DeShawn Briggs... That dunk. That timing. That intimidation...) Lucass golden eyes flickered. His thoughts sharpened. (If thats the standard... then Ill break it. Imitate it. Recreate it. Even if I saw it just once.) Across the court, DeShawn stood like a monument in the paint, barely sweating. Towering. Unbothered. "Dont even think about it, kid," DeShawn muttered under his breath, loud enough for only Lucas to hear. "Im the ceiling youll never reach." Lucas didnt respond. But something in his body language changed more grounded. More dangerous. Ayumi noticed from the bench. (Lucas... that look... its the same one from back then. The one when he decided he wouldnt be second to anyone again.) Ethan leaned forward slightly; arms crossed. (The mimicry instinct again. Hes syncing. Adapting... Waithes going to try that dunk.) Evan drove up the court, ball in hand. "Clear out!" he barked. "Lets isolate!" Brandon set a hard screen for Josh, who veered right and pulled Jace away from the lane. Ryan ghosted to the baseline, dragging Titan with him. The paint opened. Evan dished it. Lucas caught it at the wing. He took one deep breath. (I only get one shot at this.) He exploded forward. One dribble. Two. DeShawn saw it. "You trying me?! AGAINST ME?!" he growled. Lucas didnt hesitate. He took off. In that moment, Lucas wasnt 57 anymore. He was the rim. He was power. He was flight. "NO WAY" Malik Titan shouted from the weak side. DeShawn leapt, late. Lucas pulled the ball back with both hands midair. Eyes locked on the rim. Body twisting like hed studied every highlight DeShawn ever made. And then... BOOOOOOOM! A two-handed reverse slam that shook the entire gym. The bench exploded. "LETS GOOOOO!" Kai roared, nearly knocking over Coonie. Ayumi dropped her clipboard, standing in shock. (He... he actually did it... He copied DeShawns power and made it his own.) Lucas landed hard, chest rising, heart thundering. He looked up. DeShawn stared at him, stunned. Lucas didnt smirk. He didnt celebrate. He just said quietly: "Youre not the ceiling. Youre just the wall." The gym went quiet for a second. Then the Vorpal fans lost it. Even Jace raised his brows. "Yo, Leon... we might actually have a game." Leonel didnt respond. He just narrowed his eyes. (So this is the real Lucas Graves...) Ethan clenched his fist at the sideline. (Thats it. Thats the momentum swing. Now push. Push harder. Weve got them reeling.) Evan shouted over the cheers, "Lets tighten up on defense! Theyre not unbeatable!" Brandon added, "Were still down one! Dont let up now!" .. Score: 11C10. Blazing Fox leads. The scoreboards red glow pulsed above the court like a warning light. The crowds noise dipped for a moment, not silence, but tension the kind that builds before something cracks. Ethan stood on the sideline, arms crossed, eyes sharp. He didnt blink as he looked up at the digital time glowing in harsh red. (Five minutes left in the first quarter...) Sweat trickled down his temple. Not from exertion but calculation. (I already used my cards...) He glanced at his transparent system screen the one only he could see, flickering like a heads-up display. [ACTIVE BOOSTS:] Team Synergy Boost Temporary Attribute Buff (x5): Applied to Ryan, Evan, Brandon, Lucas, and Josh (+2 to key stats for 10 min) (Even with those... theyre barely keeping up. This Blazing Fox squad... theyre experienced. Cold. Precise.) He watched Leonel Blaze, walk the ball up the court relaxed, composed, eyes scanning like he already knew what was going to happen. (Thats the scary part... Leonel doesnt even look like hes trying yet.) Ayumi moved to Ethans side, clipboard in hand, voice low. "You look tense. Whats wrong?" Ethan didnt answer at first. Then: "Ayumi... this is bad. Really bad." She blinked. "But were only down by one. Lucas just dunked on their center. The momentums" Ethan cut in. "Theyre not playing seriously yet." His voice was calm but grim. Ayumis eyes widened. "You mean... this is them holding back?" Ethan gave a slight nod. (That dunk... sure, it rattled DeShawn. But Leonel didnt react. Noah Vance hasnt even tested our frontcourt yet. Jace has only taken one deep three. Thats not them playing to win thats them analyzing.) On the court, Evan pressed Leonel at the top. But Leonel wasnt fazed. He stepped around him with a simple pivot, broke into the lane with a ghost-like glide, and lobbed a no-look alley-oop to DeShawn. BANG! Another thunderous slam. Score: 13C10. Louie shouted from the bench, "Theyre answering everything we do!" Kai muttered, "We need to strike back, hard." Ethans lips tightened. (Theyve played together longer. Theyve fought stronger opponents. Theyre sharper on defense, tighter on rotations. Our only edge is our heart... and Lucass power.) ... Evan snatched the ball off the baseline, sweat glistening on his brow, and without hesitation, he launched a sharp inbound pass straight to Lucas. Lucas caught it mid-stride, his feet barely skimming the court, already sprinting like he was chasing something invisible. (Lets see if this works...) Ethan thought, eyes narrowing as Lucas exploded up the court. Ayumi gasped from the bench. "Hes fast... faster than before" Lucas didnt just run, he cut through. The moment his sneakers touched the hardwood, it was as if he borrowed the spirit of Allen Iverson himself that raw, street-honed, ankle-snapping brilliance. Jace Holloway stepped up to meet him. "Youre not crossing me" Too late. Lucas dipped his left shoulder, sold a crossover so tight it looked like a glitch and Jace twitched. Hard. Lucas exploded right gone. "He got him!!" Aiden jumped to his feet. Jace reached in desperation fouled. "AND ONE!!" the ref shouted as the whistle blew, Lucas had already gone airborne. In front of the towering 70" DeShawn Briggs. Lucas didnt flinch. He cupped the ball in his right hand and took off, rising high, chest forward, fearless. (Deshawns dunk? Lets see how it feels on the other end.) Briggs went up, arms like steel beams, face emotionless. But Lucas... turned mid-air. Twisting. He switched hands, pulling a mid-air double-clutch. WHAM!! The ball slammed in with brutal grace right over the centers outstretched hand. Bench: ERUPTION. Ayumis hands flew over her mouth. "He just dunked OVER Briggs! Lucas just!!" Kai screamed, "THATS MY SHOOTING GUARD!!" Louie? Speechless just grabbed Aiden and shook him. Coonie said "Damn Monster" Ryan on the court threw up three fingers in disbelief. Josh was jumping. Evan was howling. Lucas landed. Calm. Cold. Breathing steady. Score:13C12. Vorpal Free throw Ref blows the whistle. "COUNT IT. AND ONE!" Leonel didnt even blink. He just stared. (He copied Briggs. In motion. Mid-play. He adapted instantly. ...That wasnt normal.) He narrowed his eyes. (Lucas Graves... youre not just a spark. Youre a flame trying to be a wildfire.) Briggs, walking back to the paint, grumbled, "Tch... lucky angle." Lucas turned, face stone still. "That wasnt luck." He walked to the line. Ethans hands clenched behind his back. (That... was the moment. A momentum shift. He just made them look human.) Ayumi whispered to herself, still stunned. "Lucas... youre really trying to win this game, arent you?" Ethan glanced sideways at her. (Hes not trying. Hes decided to.) Lucas bounced the ball once. Twice. Then calmly knocked down the free throw. Score: 13C13. The bench roared again. The arena crackled. But Leonel was already inbounding. "Back to work," he said, voice low. "Lets not let the spotlight blind us." Jace caught the ball, his cocky smirk now replaced by tight lips. No trash talk. They knew now. Vorpal Basket wasnt just some desperate team. They were a threat. To be continue Chapter 144 - 131: Loan Shark (7) Chapter 144: Chapter 131: Loan Shark (7) Hi everyone, I hope youre all doing okay.Im really sorry to post this, but Im in a tough situation right now. I urgently need to pay for my tuition and exam fees, and Im at a breaking point. Ive tried all I can, but Im falling short. If anyone is willing to help, even just a small amount, it would mean so much to me.Landbank Account: 1746358772 (Any amount is deeply appreciated.) Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Even just sharing this would help more than you know. ???? Score: 13C13. The ball sailed through the net a clean bank off the glass from Lucass Free throw and the buzzer from the scorers table confirmed the tie. Ayumi stood up halfway, heart pounding. "Its tied...! He actually tied it..." Kai pounded his fist against the bench. "Lucas is EATING right now!" Coonie said "What a monster" Louie added, "Tch... they didnt see that cross coming." Back on the court, Lucas landed light on his feet, barely breathing hard. He turned toward his bench, gave a subtle nod toward Ethan. Ethan nodded back. (Were on pace. But this rhythm we have to push it just a little more. Just enough to disrupt Leonels control of the tempo.) The Blazing Foxes wasted no time. Leonel Blaze walked the ball up. His stride was casual, calm, but that calm had teeth. Evan stood in front of him, crouched low, arms wide. Sweat trickled down his temple. "Youre not walking past me again," Evan muttered. Leonel didnt blink. "Its not about walking past you." He leaned in, whispered just loud enough: "Its about bending the game." And then snap. Leonel shifted. A blinding pivot. A sudden stop. Evans feet slid a fraction too wide. "NO!" Leonel didnt attack. He waited. Like a maestro measuring the silence between notes. Then a flick of the wrist. No-look bounce pass through two defenders. Right into Malik "Titan" Reeds hands. BANG! A two-handed power slam that rattled the rim. The crowd gasped. Score: 15C13. Blazing Fox regains the lead. Ayumi gritted her teeth. "Theyre not even celebrating. Theyre playing like its business." Ethan clenched his jaw. (Thats Leonels control. He sets the tempo, then lets his teammates finish it. A master of flow... But well find the gaps.) Brandon inbounded quickly to Evan, who moved fast this time, trying to speed up the rhythm. "Run Flow Cut Two!" Ethan called from the sideline. Josh set a hard off-ball screen for Lucas on the left wing while Ryan pulled to the top. Lucas came off the screen caught the ball in stride but Jace Holloway was already closing in. "You again?" Jace grinned, bouncing on his heels. "I wont get cooked twice." Lucas didnt smile. He dropped low again then suddenly rose. Not a drive. A jumper. Quick. Clean. Jace jumped late too late. SWISH. Score: 15C15. Tie again. Ayumi stood again without realizing it. "Lucas... youre glowing." Ethans system flashed briefly in his vision: [Lucas Graves C Momentum Gauge: Rising] [Synergy Boost: +5% Offensive Rhythm] Ethan smiled faintly. (The team synergy card is working. Theyre starting to trust each other more with every possession.) Leonel caught the inbound. But this time, he didnt walk. He jogged. Evan stayed close. Leonel whispered, "Still think you can keep up?" Evan replied, "As long as I can breathe." Leonel chuckled. (Good. I like resistance. It keeps me warm.) He passed early this time to Jace. But Lucas was ready. He stepped into the path. Intercepted. Ayumi: "STEAL!" Lucas dashed down the court in a blur Malik trailing fast. (I cant outrun Titan. But I can outplay him.) Lucas slowed then lobbed the ball back behind him without looking. Josh caught it mid-stride planted and launched for a dunk. BOOM! Crowd erupted. Score: 17C15. VORPAL TAKES THE LEAD. Kai shouted from the bench, "LETS GOOO!" Coonie threw his towel in the air. "Theyre actually ahead" Ethan clenched his fist from the sideline. (Yes. Let the crowd feel it. Let the Foxes feel pressure for once. This is more than just a game this is our survival.) And then... Leonel Blaze smiled. Just the faintest curve of his lips. (Interesting. This is what I call fun.) With 2:21 left in the first quarter, the war had truly begun. As the crowd was still roaring from Joshs slam, but Ethans sharp eyes werent on the court. He glanced sideways at Louie. The usually loud-mouthed, confident sixth man was dead silent. His hands were clenched between his knees, his back slightly hunched forward, eyes locked on Lucas like a sniper tracking a target. Ethan tilted his head. "Youre focusing pretty hard on the game, huh?" Louie didnt answer immediately. His jaw was tight. Finally, he muttered without looking away "I need to watch how much of a gap we have." Ethans gaze softened slightly. "Gap?" Louies knuckles tightened. "Lucas... hes moving like a different person. Ive been practicing every day, but the way he moves, reads, reacts its not something you can just catch up to. Its like... hes becoming someone else entirely." He finally looked at Ethan, frustration clouding his eyes. "Im pissed, okay? Not at him. At myself. Because I dont know if I can ever reach that level not just Lucas, even Evans holding his own against Leonel. Im not even on the floor." Ethan sat beside him, leaning forward. His voice low. Firm. "So what? You think youre weak just because youre not on the court today?" Louie didnt answer. Ethan continued. "Let me tell you something. Ive already seen your data in the system. Youre not weak. But what separates guys like Lucas right now isnt just talent its belief. Belief, preparation... and pressure." Louie looked up, brows furrowed. "Pressure?" "Lucas is only playing like this because his backs against the wall," Ethan said. "If you were on the court, with a loan shark threatening your team, with your friends life on the line, would you back down?" Louies eyes flared with something, half guilt, half fire. "Hell no." Ethan nodded. "Then get ready. Because when your time comes... I expect you to rise too." Louie exhaled deeply. He turned his gaze back to the court but this time, something had shifted. The frustration didnt vanish. It turned into fuel. ... Back on the court... After seconds .... 17:17 The ball was back in play. Blazing Fox reset their defense tight, sharp, unreadable. But Vorpal Basket wasnt backing down. The score was 17C17, the tension tighter than a drum. At the elbow, Ryan Taylor was matched up with Noah Vance, the tactical genius known for his unmovable "Anchor Lock." Noah was quiet, serious, his eyes already scanning ahead, calculating three moves in advance. But Ryan... had other plans. He smirked. Just a little. "Hey," Ryan said casually. "You ever hear the one about the power forward who tried yoga to improve his rebounding?" Noah didnt respond. His knees stayed bent. Eyes forward. Ryan leaned in, almost whispering now. "Yeah, they say he got so flexible, he rebounded his will to live." Noah blinked. Just once. A twitch. Ryan grinned. "Cmon, that was at least worth a chuckle." Suddenly, Josh cut baseline, and Ryan slipped a perfect backscreen, knocking Noah off his angle for just half a second Enough for Lucas to lob it in. Josh caught it mid-air. THWAP! Smash slam! Score: 17C19, Vorpal takes the lead. Ryan jogged back, tossing a wink over his shoulder. "Guess humor really is a weapon." Noah reset his stance, deadpan as ever... but a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth mightve betrayed him. From the bench, Louie cackled. "Yo! Ryans got jokes and assists!" Kai said, "Didnt know his brain had two gears. Jokes and screens." Coonie nodded Ayumi shook her head but smiled. "Whatever works." And Ethan? He crossed his arms, eyes sharp. (Every inch matters. And right now, were winning inches.) ... Meanwhile, on the bench, high above in the old Midtown Arenas rusted bleachers... The metal groaned under the weight of Big King, a hulking man whose sheer size dwarfed the plastic chair he was seated on. His bald head glistened under the cracked ceiling lights, and the jagged scar trailing from his temple to the edge of his lip pulled whenever he smirked which wasnt often. Beside him sat Brick, arms crossed, chewing loudly on gum, his boots kicked up on the seat in front of him like he owned the place. In between them sat Jeremy Park, shoulders hunched, sweat beading down his temple even though he hadnt stepped on court. Below them, the court buzzed score: 17C19, Vorpal leading. Big King leaned forward slightly, his heavy chain bracelets clinking with the movement. "Your team is leading, huh." His voice was deep, slow, and carried a terrifying weight the kind of voice that made you want to confess things you didnt do just to get away from it. Jeremy swallowed hard. "Y-yes, sir." Big King didnt nod. He just stared a long, deliberate stare that made Jeremy feel like a thread stretched between knives. Then... "They need to win this game." "If they dont..." He turned his head slowly toward Jeremy, that scarred eye narrowing like a blade being drawn. "You know what happens to you." Jeremys heart thundered. His throat was dry. His lips trembled. (I know... I know what happens. I shouldnt have borrowed the money... I shouldnt have let them down... But Ethan said hell fix this. Theyre fighting for me... They have to win) Brick let out a low chuckle, tapping Jeremys shoulder with the back of his knuckles. "Damn, youre sweating more than the players, Jeremy-boy." He grinned wide, showing a gold tooth. "Dont worry. If they lose, maybe Big Kingll let you keep one knee. You like running, right?" Jeremy flinched. He looked back down at the court. At Lucas, drenched in sweat but still moving like fire incarnate. At Evan, eyes sharp and hands fast. At Ryan, cracking jokes to rile up defenders. And at Ethan, calm, focused, as if he carried not just a clipboard, but the weight of all teammates dreams and debts. Jeremy clenched his fists. (You guys... please. Dont lose. I cant afford to lose. I believe in you. I... I believe in you, Ethan.) .. Meanwhile, high in the shadows of the old Midtown Arenas upper-level seats... A pair of intense amber eyes glinted through the gloom, locked onto the court below. The crowds noise faded beneath the pulse in his ears. The squeak of shoes, the echo of bouncing balls, the shouted plays, none of it really mattered. All he saw was the rhythm of the game. The chaos. The push and pull of willpower and tactics crashing like waves on hardwood. He smirked, resting one leg over the other. His fiery red hair, unkempt and wild, flickered under the stadium lights like it had a will of its own. "Hoh... interesting." His voice was smooth, but edged with something dangerous like velvet stretched over steel. "Looks like we wont get to play this team after all, huh." He didnt sound disappointed. If anything, he sounded entertained. This was Ares. Nickname: "The God of War." Position: Power Forward of the Gods Team. Feared by many, adored by few, and hated by nearly everyone hes crushed on court, he lived for games that tested his limits. For battles of pride. Of dominance. Of grit. He stretched his arms behind his head casually as if watching something amusing on TV. "That blond kid, Ethan, was it?" he mused, eyes narrowing. "Hes got brains. And that black-haired guy with golden eyes... Lucas Graves. Hes got something else." Then he grinned wild, teeth sharp, eyes blazing. "Still... even if they beat the Blazing Fox, it wont matter in the long run." Ares leaned forward now, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes locked on the action as the first quarter began to wind down. "But still..." "Its always fun to watch mortals play." And then he laughed a low, rumbling sound like thunder rolling across a battlefield. To be continue Chapter 145 - 132: Loan Shark (8) Chapter 145: Chapter 132: Loan Shark (8) August 6, 2010 C Old Midtown Arena, 2 Minutes Left in the 1st Quarter Score: Blazing Fox 24 C Vorpal Basket 21 The gym was a roaring drum of sneakers, squeaking rubber, and echoing shouts. The crowd buzzed with tension, watching as two teams one forged in fire, the other driven by desperation clashed on the court with everything they had. Ayumi stood at the bench, fists clenched, her clipboard forgotten. She watched Lucas breathing hard, sweat running down his jaw as he stood at the top of the key, surveying the defense. ... Meanwhile, on the other side Leonel Blaze dribbled slowly, purposefully. His expression calm. Calculating. "Theyre faster than I expected," he thought. "But not faster than me." He glanced at Jace, who nodded without needing a word. Lucas stood near him, reading his body, tense like a coiled spring. Ryan hovered by Noah Vance, trying to keep him from setting up the perfect screen. Back on Vorpals bench, Ethan was gripping his knees, watching every movement like a hawk. "(Were only down three. Two minutes left. Thats enough to shift momentum... but we cant panic. Not now.)" He turned to the bench and barked, "Aiden! Get ready to sub in next dead ball!" "Me?" Aiden blinked, standing. "Who am I taking out?" "Josh," Ethan replied. "Let him breathe. Youll guard Titan." Aiden paled. "Me? Malik Rimquake Reed?! Hes built like a tank, Ethan" "Youre the most balanced on defense and stamina right now," Ethan cut in. "You dont need to stop him just slow him down." Aiden swallowed, then nodded. "Got it." .. Back on court Lucas faked right, drove left, got by Jace But Malik stepped up from the help side like a wall. "You again," Malik said, his deep voice rumbling. Lucas planted and passed. Behind his back. Straight to Brandon, who caught and rose under the rim. BANG! A clean dunk off the glass. The crowd erupted. Score: 24C23. Ayumi leapt to her feet, eyes wide. "Yes! Lets go!" Josh clapped as he ran back. "Nice vision, Lucas!" Lucas just nodded, focused, golden eyes sharp like a blade. Leonel walked the ball up again. His eyes flicked to the clock. (A minute thirty. Well slow it down.) But as he crossed half-court, Evan pressed him tight. "Youre not getting another clean lob, maestro." Evan grinned, eyes locked on Leonels chest. Leonel smirked. "Cute." He spun, lost Evan for a second, and attacked the gap. Ryan stepped up, but Leonel dropped a dime pass under the rim DeShawn Briggs. Dunk. BANG. 26C23. Louie cursed under his breath on the bench. "We answer, they answer harder..." Ethan was silent. But inside, gears turned. "(I have one more team card... should I use it now?)" ... On the next possession, Evan dribbled up and called the play. "Ice Viper!" It was a fake flare screen that would open space for Lucas to iso at the wing. Ryan slid across to set the screen, Lucas curled around Jace switched on him. Lucas didnt hesitate. He stepped back. Pulled up. Swoosh. Tie game. 26C26. Crowd: "OHHHH!" Ayumis eyes were sparkling. "Lucas..." Even Big King and Brick from the shadows leaned forward in their seats. Brick muttered, "That black-haired punk is getting hotter." Big King said nothing. His scar twitched. Jeremy Park, seated beside them, kept silent too but a tiny flicker of hope was in his chest. Leonel took the inbound. "(Hes in rhythm now. Lets see how long it lasts.)" He brought it up, tried to call a new set but Evan was on him like glue. Lucas, now guarding Jace, kept glancing between him and the ball. "(If he pulls up, I need to contest instantly...)" Jace faked a backdoor cut then sprinted to the top, caught Leonels pass Launched. Miss. Brandon secured the rebound. Passed to Evan. They pushed. "20 seconds left!" Ethan shouted. "Hold for last!" But Lucas waved it off. He wanted to attack now. Evan hesitated then nodded and passed it. Lucas drove. Malik met him again. "You again?" Malik smirked. Lucas didnt flinch. He pivoted faked a shot ducked low eurostep He floated a soft layup off the glass It rolled in. 28C26. Vorpal takes the lead. The crowd ROARED. The buzzer sounded. End of 1st Quarter. Ethan exhaled. "Were still standing." "Lets make sure we finish that way." ... Start of 2nd Quarter Lineup: Aiden (SF), Coonie (SG), Louie (PF), Kai (PG), Ethan Albarado (PF/Undersized C) Score: Vorpal Basket 28 C Blazing Fox 26 The buzzer echoed across the gym, signaling the start of the second quarter. The first five of Vorpal slowly walked to the bench, fists bumping with the new rotation taking the floor. Lucas passed by Ethan, whispering, "You sure about this lineup?" Ethan nodded. "We need to rest you guys. Just trust me." As he stepped onto the court himself, lacing his hands behind his head briefly to shake off the tension, something shimmered in his vision. Ethan thought: "(This team doesnt have height so I need to outwork, outthink, and outfight them.)" "(Dennis Rodman... lend me your instincts.)" From the sideline, Ayumi watched as the new unit stepped into formation. Her lips were tight. "Theyre small. No natural center. If Ethan cant hold the paint..." But then she looked at him standing there like he belonged in the fire. ... On the Blazing Fox side, Jace laughed as he watched Vorpals new five. "Yo, Leonel they subbed in their bench and the short blond guy is at center?" Malik smirked. "Thisll be fun." Leonel didnt respond. He just narrowed his eyes at Ethan. "(Youre the coach... and now you step onto the court. Lets see what kind of resolve you carry, Ethan Albarado.)" .. Tip-in play resumed. The ball came to Blazing Fox. Jace brought it up, guarded by Coonie fast and twitchy. But Blazing Fox ran a high pick with Noah Vance, and the ball ended up with Malik in the post. Malik backed down Louie. BOOM. BOOM. The floor seemed to shake. Louie gritted his teeth. "(Damn, hes like a wall.)" Malik turned went for a fadeaway. He missed. The ball bounced. Ethan lunged. Not high. But fast. He slid in behind DeShawn, boxed out with perfect angle. "(Positioning... dont fight strength. Use it.)" He snatched the rebound. The bench exploded. Ayumis eyes widened. "Ethan... got that over Briggs?" Ethan grinned as he passed to Kai. "Lets run!" ... Vorpal in transition. Kai led the break passed to Coonie on the wing. Pull-up jumper. SWISH. 30C26. Vorpal extends the lead. .... Back on defense, Ethan barked out orders. "Switch on screens! Dont overhelp! Everyone box out!" Blazing Fox tried to isolate Malik again but Aiden doubled early, then rotated back in time to contest Noahs drive. Another miss. Rebound. Ethan again. He fell to the floor, hugging it. Got up. Coonie helped him. "Yo, you good?" Ethan, breathless but grinning: "Im Dennis Rodman, baby." ... Next play. Louie got the ball inside but instead of attacking, he kicked out to Kai. Wide open three. BOOM. 33C26. ... The crowd erupted. Ayumi clenched her clipboard. "This... this might work." Lucas, watching from the bench, smirked. "That guy..." On the Blazing bench, Coach of Blazing Fox stood up. "Timeout!" ..... Timeout called. 7:01 left in the 2nd quarter. Vorpal leads by 7. As the players jogged to the bench, Ethan was the last to come in. Sweat dripping. Chest heaving. But his eyes burning. Jeremy Park, watching in the stands behind Brick and Big King, whispered: "Theyre fighting for me... Theyre really fighting." ... Timeout C 2nd Quarter | Score: Vorpal Basket 33 C Blazing Fox 26 The shrill whistle echoed across the gym as the referee signaled the timeout. The players hustled to their benches, sweat dripping, lungs burning, but energy radiating from both sides like static before a lightning strike. Over at the Blazing Fox bench, Coach Rios didnt even sit. Clipboard tucked under one arm, his eyes bore into Leonel Blaze, who casually sipped from his water bottle, unfazed. Coach Rios narrowed his eyes. "Leonel... about time to unleash the beast." Leonel blinked. Slowly turned his head to face his coach. "But I thought... third quarter," Leonel replied, tone even, voice calm. Coach Rios shook his head, jaw clenched. "No. We need to get serious now. That motherfucker" He jabbed his finger toward Vorpals bench, toward Ethan. "is stronger than I anticipated. But dont worry..." He cracked a slight grin, cold and calculating. "We just need fifty percent of your full strength." For a split second, silence. Then Leonel slowly stood. "Tch." He gave a small smirk. "You always say fifty percent like thats light." Coach Rios said, dead serious: "Because your fifty is still everyone elses one hundred." Across the court, Ethan Albarado sat on the Vorpal bench, gulping down water, the faint glow of the basketball system still in his vision. Ethan thought: "(Its working. Rodmans rebound instincts... the spacing, the off-ball movement, were breaking their rhythm.)" "(But its not over. They havent gotten serious yet. Especially him... Leonel Blaze.)" As he looked up, his eyes met Leonels. And in that one glance, everything changed. Leonels body posture shifted. Still relaxed... but now something simmered beneath the surface. A flicker of intensity. Controlled violence. Ethan thought, feeling a chill in his spine: "(Oh no... theyre unlocking him now.)" Lucas leaned over from the bench. "Hes warming up, isnt he?" Ethan nodded slightly. Ayumis hands tightened around the clipboard. "Be careful, Ethan... theyre about to get serious." ..... Back on the court, as the players lined up again, Jace Holloway leaned toward Leonel. "Bout time you stopped sleepwalking." Leonel rolled his neck. "Lets clean up." Referees whistle blew. Second quarter resumed. And now... the real storm was coming. .. As The buzzer echoed across the gym, and the game resumed. Both teams returned to the court, but something felt different. The atmosphere shifted, heavier, hotter like standing in the eye of a brewing storm. Ethan stood on the court now. No center. No height advantage. But he had one thing: the "Rebound King" skill. [Rebounder King Dennis Rodman Skill Card] Effect: Greatly enhances rebound prediction, box-out instincts, and hustle. Ethan thought, sweat running down his temple: "(Dennis Rodmans instincts... I can feel it. Where the balls gonna bounce. The angles. The rhythm. Its insane.)" "(We dont need a giant. We need timing.)" He looked at his current lineup Aiden, Coonie, Louie, and Kai. All bench players. All undersized. But fighting like hell. ..... Across the court, Leonel Blaze dribbled up, slower this time. Smooth. Unhurried. Different. Coonie pressed up on him but flinched the moment Leonel looked at him his eyes glowing with a strange focus. Leonel thought calmly: "(50 percent huh.)" Time didnt stop but to him, it slowed. Movements became clearer. Passing lanes expanded. Rotations flickered like afterimages. He glided past Coonie. Louie rotated in. Leonel snapped a bounce pass behind the back, around Louies hip. Straight to Jace. Catch. Step-back. Release. SWISH. Score: 33C28. The crowd erupted. Blazings bench roared. But Vorpal didnt flinch. .. Coonie shouted: "What just what just happened?!" Louie clenched his jaw. "I couldnt even see the pass coming." .. Next Possession: Vorpal Ethan took a breath. "Focus. Run Isolation B. Feed Louie!" Louie posted up on Noah Vance. Back down. Shoulder fake. But Noah didnt budge. (Anchor Lock.) Louie went up Smack! Blocked. Malik "Titan" Reed took the rebound, pushed the break. Lucas was up, shouting from the bench: "TRANSITION! GET BACK!" Malik didnt slow. He launched toward the rim. Kai stepped in Too late. BOOM. A dunk like thunder. Score: 33C30. Next Inbound Ethan again. He crossed halfcourt. Leonel waited. Calm. Silent. Ethans thought screamed: "(I cant go at him straight. Hes in Vision mode. Like every movement I make, he sees three seconds ahead.)" He passed to Aiden. Aiden to Kai. Back to Ethan. Shot clock ticking. 5... 4... Pump fake. Step back. Ethan pulled up. Mid-range. Clank. It bounced hard. BUT He sprinted in. Rodmans instinct activated. He flew through the gap, between Malik and DeShawn, both hands up Tipped. Secured. Offensive rebound! The crowd gasped. Ethan twisted mid-air and kicked it out To Coonie. Open corner three. S W I S H. Score: 36C30. Louie looked over, fire in his eyes. "Lets f*cking go, Ethan!!" .. Bench erupted. Ayumi: "YES! SECOND CHANCE POINTS!" Back on the Fox bench, Coach Rios muttered: "This Ethan the way he move....Its like Dennis Rodman...." To be continue Chapter 146 - 133: Loan Shark (9) Chapter 146: Chapter 133: Loan Shark (9) Score: 36C30 C Vorpal Basket leads Time Remaining: 2nd Quarter, 6:00 Minutes The scoreboard glowed brightly in the packed Midtown Arena, casting sharp red digits across sweating faces and heavy breaths. Vorpal Basket was holding the lead but it felt like they were walking a tightrope above a raging storm. Then... Everything shifted. ..... Leonel Blaze walked the ball up the court slowly. No smile. No casual chatter. His eyes were locked in, burning with sharp focus. "50 percent," he muttered. "Lets close this gap." Coach Rios crossed his arms from the sideline. "Crank it up. Let them feel it." .... Ethan stood at the top of the arc, watching Leonel. He gritted his teeth. His heart thudded. (Hes serious now... His Vision is kicking in.) "(Shit... Im not ready for this. Hes seeing three seconds ahead... no, four. Every passing lane. Every motion.)" ... Possession: Blazing Fox Leonel didnt call a play. He orchestrated it. One subtle head tilt. Jace knew. He sprinted across a screen from Malik. Louie tried to switch Too late. Leonel threaded the bounce pass through Louies legs. Jace caught, quick release Bang. Three. Score: 36C33. ... Next play: Vorpal inbound. Ethan brought the ball up. Sweat trailing down his chin. Ayumi shouted something from the sideline, but it was distant. His focus was on Leonel. Leonel crouched low now. Defensive stance like a spring coiled tight. Ethan thought: "(Dont let him read me... change the tempo... fake a drive)" He made his move left. Leonel shifted perfectly. Cut him off. Spin moves, no window. Pass to Coonie, intercepted. Leonel shot forward like lightning. Fast break. Only Ethan backpedaling. Leonel slowed... then exploded forward Behind-the-back cross. Euro step. Ethan reached And missed. "Damn it!" Leonel floated. Layup. Soft. Clean. Score: 36C35. Ethan collapsed under the hoop, staring at the ceiling lights. "(I still couldnt stop him. What am I missing?)" ... Bench reaction: Kai stood up. "Theyre closing in fast!" Lucas, still breathing heavy, clenched his fist. "Leonels got full court control... Ethan cant stop him alone!" Ayumis voice was sharp. "Switch the coverage! Run doubles if needed!" .... Next Possession: Vorpal Aiden drove. Pass to Kai. Swung to Louie. Step-back mid-range. Clank. Rebound: DeShawn. Blazing Fox transition fast. Malik sprinted middle. Noah trailing. Leonel took two dribbles then lobbed it blindly Noah caught it mid-air. Slammed. Score: 36C37. Blazing Fox takes the lead. The arena shook. Crowd roared. Vorpals lead gone in 90 seconds. .... Timeout called. Ethan jogged over, chest heaving, jaw tight. He looked at his team, Kai, Coonie, Aiden, Louie. All of them sweating. Frustrated. Wide-eyed. Ethan said, quietly: "Were getting crushed in rhythm." Ethans eyes narrowed as he stared toward the court. Sweat clung to his brows, not just from exertion but pressure. Blazing Fox was no longer just a strong team. They were a machine. A unit sharpened by years of experience and brotherhood. ... Louie muttered under his breath, voice laced with frustration. "I couldnt even react to that pass! It was like he knew where I was going before I even got there." Kai nodded, tossing a towel over his shoulders. "Theyre moving like theyve played together for ten years..." Evan added with a sigh, "Thats because they have. Since elementary days, the core five have always been on the same courtschool, summer leagues, tournaments, everything." Ryans mouth dropped slightly. "Damn... thats f*cking LIT." Brandon crossed his arms, shaking his head slowly. "No wonder their moves are synchronized. You cant fake that chemistry." ... Ethan stayed silent as he stared at the court. (Thats... their edge.) (Its not just strength or skills. Its time. Familiarity. Intuition formed from repetition.) Lucass voice broke through the noise. "What should we do, Ethan?" Everyones eyes turned to him. To Ethan Albarado, the strategist. The one who always had a plan. But this time... He hesitated. "I dont know..." It came out quietly, but honest. Ayumis eyes widened a little. Lucas blinked in surprise. Ethan clenched his jaw. Then raised his head. "But thats why Im going back in. Ill play this stretch... and study their rhythm. I need more data." "Youre going to study them while playing?" Kai asked, disbelief in his tone. Ethan nodded. "Exactly. While theyre flowing at their best, Ill break their sequence downpattern by pattern, habit by habit." Coonie leaned forward. "What if they overwhelm you?" Ethan gave a slight smirk. "Then Ill take the hits. Im not trying to stop them right now. I just need to see clearly." .... Lucas stepped up beside Ethan, his jaw clenched but his voice calm. "Then let me go with you." Ethan didnt even turn. He just shook his head, eyes locked forward on the court. "No." He exhaled slowly, almost like a prayer. "Youre our dagger. If I fall behind... you finish what I start." Silence settled over the bench like a blanket pulled tight. Only the low roar of the crowd and the distant echo of the announcers voice broke through the tension. Ayumi stood from her crouch, her clipboard hugged tight to her chest. Despite everything, her voice didnt waver. Lucas smirked, just barely. "Dont die in there, genius." Ethan rolled his neck, the pop of tendons sharp. "Ill survive." A spark lit behind his eyes. "Ive got a game to decode." .... BZZZZZT. The timeout horn pierced the air like a war drum. Ethan stepped off the bench, walking toward the scorers table. Not with nerves. But with numbers. With patterns. With a storm brewing quietly in his mind. (Leonel Blaze... Zone Vision.) He narrowed his gaze toward the other side of the court. (Show me how it ticks.) (Ill find the lag. The delay. That split-second when your brain is ahead of your feet.) (Because no matter how flawless the instincthumans still move in rhythms.) (And every rhythm... has a break.) This wasnt just basketball anymore. This was a duel of mind vs muscle, of instinct vs intellect. And Ethan was about to step into the storms eye. The referees whistle shrieked. Ethan crossed the boundary and stepped onto the hardwood. His sneakers struck the floor with purpose like footsteps carved into stone. Across the court, Jace glanced sideways at Leonel and grinned. "Coach just threw in the little tactician." He chuckled, dropping into a defensive stance. "This should be fun." To be continue Chapter 147 - 134: Loan Shark (10) Chapter 147: Chapter 134: Loan Shark (10) Ethan stood across from Leonel, eyes sharp. His chest rose with each breath, but his mind was razor-focused. (Watch everything. Every cut. Every glance. The timing of their screens. Their spacing. The pass delay. Their reaction time.) (This isnt a battle of force. This is chess. And Im finally at the board.) .... Inbound to Leonel. Evan tried to press, but Leonel slid past like vapor, barely touching the ground. A brush screen from Noah gave Leonel a sliver of space. Then it happened again. Zip! A no-look bounce pass slipped right between Louie and Coonie perfectly timed. Malik caught and flushed it with a windmill. BANG! Score: 36C39. Ayumi flinched. Lucas gritted his teeth. On the bench, Jeremy held his breath. .... Ethan didnt flinch. He raised a hand. "Inbound!" The ball was passed to him. Leonel met him near half-court. The Maestro vs. The Analyst. Ethan didnt try to blow past Leonel. Instead, he read. How he moved, the way he leaned slightly left, the flicker of his eyes before he angled his foot. (You anticipate based on my shoulders... Got it.) Ethan drove right faked then spun into a back pass to Louie. Louie shot the mid-range jumper. Swish. Score: 38C39. Leonel narrowed his eyes. (So youre not here to score. Youre here to observe...) .... Next play. Leonel advanced again. This time, Ethan didnt try to stop him. He just mirrored. Matched rhythm. Counted. (1... 2... pass... delay 0.7 seconds before the shooter receives... Jace gets it at his left hip. He rises in 1.1 seconds. If I move early, hell fake. I have to break that sequence.) Jace received it. Went for a step-back three. But this time, Coonie anticipated. Ethan had shouted mid-play: "Right shoulder. Now!" Coonie leaped hand up. Tip! Ball deflected. Louie recovered. Fastbreak. Back to Ethan. Bounce pass to Aiden, cutting baseline. Layup. Score: 40C39. Vorpal regains the lead. .... The crowd stirred. Commentators voice echoed: "What a smart recovery! Vorpals coordination suddenly looks tighter theyre reading plays before they happen!" Leonel caught the ball on the next inbound, his expression a shade darker now. He dribbled slowly. Watching Ethan. Ethan returned the stare. (You see the court like time slows down... But what if someones watching you, frame by frame?) Leonel shifted gears. A blur of speed. Ethan moved too not to block, but to funnel. He forced Leonel slightly right, toward Coonie. Trap. Leonel spun. But Ethan anticipated. Swipe! Fingertips touched the ball. Loose! Aiden dived and grabbed it. Another possession stolen. Ayumi gasped. "Ethan... hes dissecting them..." .... On the bench, Ryan leaned forward. "Holy crap. Is this what it means when Ethan says hes gonna analyze someone?" Lucas smirked. "Yup. Thats his game." On the next possession, Ethan walked the ball up. Still calm. He wasnt just playing. He was mapping. Like a conductor orchestrating his teams tempo. Pick. Slide. Swing. Coonie curled off a screen. Layup. Score: 42C39. ... Blazing Fox called a timeout. Coach Rios stepped onto the court, eyes flashing. "Leonel. What the hell is this? Youre getting read out there." Leonel looked away; jaw tight. "Hes not fast. Not strong. But hes... reading my rhythm. Like a goddamn metronome." Jace frowned. "You want me to break formation?" Coach Rios shook his head. "Not yet. Lets see how far this kid thinks he can ride logic." ... Meanwhile, on Vorpals bench, Ayumi handed Ethan a towel. "You good?" Ethan wiped his face, nodding. "Ive figured out two of their trigger sequences. Theyre layered, but I can disrupt their tempo. Still... its not enough to win." Lucas asked, "Then what will?" Ethan looked up, eyes burning behind his sweat. "We need emotion to match their instinct. Heart to match their experience." "And youre gonna lead that?" Coonie asked. Ethan stood. Ball in hand. Voice steady. "Well....." .... Back on the court, the crowd leaned in. Whispers turned to claps. Claps into cheers. The game wasnt just a match anymore. It was a war of understanding, instinct vs. intellect. And Ethan had just drawn first blood. Score: 42C39. 2nd Quarter, 3:47 Remaining Vorpal Basket leads .. Back on the court, the air was electric. The players took their positions sweat dripping, lungs heaving, eyes sharp. The crowd leaned in. Every bounce of the ball echoed like a drumbeat. Whispers turned to claps. Claps into cheers. This was no longer just a game. It was a war of understanding. Instinct vs. Intellect. Emotion vs. Calculation. And Ethan Albarado the "Brain" of Vorpal Basket had just drawn first blood. ..... Leonel dribbled at the top of the key, slower this time. Measured. Controlled. (Hes watching... analyzing... then acting. So Ill change the rhythm.) He didnt wait for a screen this time. Just attacked. A sudden burst. Ethan slid in, but Leonel spun, planted, and kicked the ball out Straight to Jace. Catch. Rise. Three-pointer clean. Score: 42C42. Tie game. Ethan grunted. (Damn it... They adjusted faster than expected.) ... Louie caught the inbound from Coonie. Jace stepped up to pressure him this time. Louie didnt hesitate. He tapped into his fullest speed. A blur. He blew by Jace quick cross, into a stepback just enough space. Pull-up jumper. Swish. Score: 44C42. Vorpal leads. ... On the other end, Malik set a hard screen on Louie. Aiden tried to switch, but Leonel faked the drive, then lobbed it toward the rim. DeShawn Briggs rose up like a skyscraper SLAMMED it with authority. BANG! Score: 44C44. Ryan shouted from the bench, "THEY NEVER STOP PRESSING!" Ayumi stood, her clipboard clutched tightly. (Theyre not just skilled. Theyre relentless. How do you stop a team that punishes you every possession?) ..... Ethan jogged up the court again, ball in hand. His thoughts raced. (Theyre starting to quicken their sets. Their actions are compressed into 4-second reads now... This is no longer about pattern-breaking. This is about endurance mental and emotional.) He signaled with his hand a new play. "Stack Alpha. Cut baseline. Slip screen." Louie nodded and moved first. Ethan waited... then threaded a bounce pass right through Leonels legs. Louie caught it in stride and scored with a reverse layup. Score: 46C44. ..... But Leonel Blaze didnt blink. He walked the ball up like a predator circling his prey. "Youre smart," he said to Ethan. "But this isnt chess anymore." "It never was," Ethan replied, steady. "This is war." Leonel smiled. "Then allow me to unleash hell." .... He motioned. Jace ran a stagger screen. Malik posted deep. DeShawn hovered above the arc. It was a decoy. All of it. Leonel didnt pass. He attacked. Coonie and Kai tried to collapse. Too late. Layup. And-one. Bucket. Foul on Kai. The ref blew the whistle. Score: 46C46. Crowd roared. Free throw. Leonel stepped to the line, calm as ice. Shot clean. Score: 46C47. Blazing Fox leads again. ... On the bench, Ryan stood up. "We need to answer now! Theyre heating up!" Lucas said serious. "Im going back in." Ethan raised a hand. "Not yet. Let me crack it. I just need one more piece." ... The next possession was fast. Ethan passed to Aiden. Aiden to Kai. Kai tried a floater rejected by DeShawn Briggs like a fly swatted from the air. Leonel grabbed the rebound and launched a full-court pass to Malik. BOOM! Two-handed slam. Score: 46C49. .... Timeout Vorpal Basket. Coach Rios of Blazing Fox didnt even move from his seat. He looked satisfied. The pressure was on again. ... In the huddle, the Vorpal players gathered. Their breaths came fast. Tension high. Ethan crouched in front of the group, drawing on the whiteboard furiously. "Listen, their patterns are broken. Leonels improvising now. Theyre not executing structure anymore, theyre playing pure instinct. Thats harder to predict." Kai said, "So what now?!" Ethan looked up, eyes serious. "We stop trying to control the storm." Lucas stepped forward. "Then what do we do?" Ethan stood. Turned to Lucas. And nodded. "We become the storm." .... Final minute. Second quarter. Ethan and Lucas checks back in. So does Brandon and Evan. And Ryan. Their eyes locked. One final possession before halftime. The arena buzzed. Lights hot. Crowd wild. But Vorpal Basket wasnt backing down. They were just getting started. Score: 46C49. 48 seconds remaining. To be continued... Chapter 148 - 135: Loan Shark (11) Chapter 148: Chapter 135: Loan Shark (11) Hi everyone, I hope youre all doing okay.Im really sorry to post this, but Im in a tough situation right now. I urgently need to pay for my tuition and exam fees, and Im at a breaking point. Ive tried all I can, but Im falling short. If anyone is willing to help, even just a small amount, it would mean so much to me.Landbank Account: 1746 3587 72(Any amount is deeply appreciated.) Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Even just sharing this would help more than you know. ???? Final Minute, Second Quarter Score: 46C49. Blazing Fox Leads The horn buzzed. Substitution: Ethan. Lucas. Brandon. Evan. Ryan. The original starters. The crowd stirred. People leaned forward in their seats. Even those who had written Vorpal off were now... watching. Not for a loss but for a response. Ayumi clutched her clipboard tighter, standing near the bench. Her eyes followed Lucas immediately. (Please... just one bucket. Go in with momentum.) Ethan glanced at his teammates. Nodded once. "Lets take it back," he said quietly. "Last possession. Lets bleed the clock, get the last shot, and go into halftime close." Evan inbounded the ball. :48 seconds remaining Evan dribbled up slowly, Leonel walking him step for step. They werent in a rush. Neither side was. Lucas moved to the wing, dragging Jace with him. Brandon hovered on the elbow, baiting DeShawn. Ryan motioned toward the corner, then set a fake screen before flaring out. :30 seconds Ethan called it now. "Split Curl. Lucas angle in. Brandon seal. Let them panic." Ryan whispered, "Youre really treating this like a chess match." Ethan smirked. "No... like a checkmate." Evan passed to Lucas, who came curling off a ghost screen. Jace tried to go under. Too late. Lucas caught it on the move. Dribble. Cross. Explosive plant. Stepback jumper over Jaces hand BOOM. Swish. Crowd ERUPTED. Score: 48C49. ... Leonel caught the inbound from Noah, immediately scanning the floor. :12 seconds left He dribbled up calmly. No panic. No flare. But Ethan was on him now. "I want to see it up close," Ethan muttered. Leonel glanced sideways, surprised. "Youre brave." "No. Just precise." Leonel made his move. Left jab. Crossover. Quick spin. But Ethan mirrored him. Leonel elevate pass fake mid-air to Jace. Ryan lunged. Intercepted NO! Tipped back to Leonel! Leonel caught, turned, fadeaway Buzz-beater. Its in the air Back iron. No good. HALFTIME. Score: 48C49. Blazing Fox up by 1. The teams jogged back to their benches. Ayumi exhaled hard, her hands shaking from the adrenaline. Lucas gave her a quick nod as he sat down, wiping sweat from his face. Ethan didnt say anything. Not yet. He was watching Leonel. And for the first time Leonel was watching him back. Eyes narrowed. Expression unreadable. (That last play... he read me. He anticipated the shift. This isnt just luck.) (Youre smarter than I expected, Ethan Albarado.) Leonel grabbed a water bottle. "Coach... hes good." Coach Rios raised an eyebrow. "Who?" "Ethan." Rios smirked. "Then crush him." ... Back in the Vorpal bench: Ryan sat, breathing heavily. "Were so in this." Brandon added, "We just need to last the third. Thats their surge quarter." Lucas looked at Ethan. He didnt need to ask. (Whats the plan for the second half?) Ethan finally spoke. "We take control of the rhythm again. From here on out... we play our tempo." "Because the second half?" "Its where we win." ... Leonel walked out of the tunnel, his gaze fixed on the polished court beneath the blazing arena lights. The scoreboard glared: Blazing Fox C 49 Vorpal Basket C 48 Start of 3rd Quarter The crowd roared as both teams returned, but Leonel Blazes eyes werent on them. They were on Ethan who stood calmly with Lucas, Brandon, and the rest of Vorpals starters, huddled for a final word before tip-off. Leonel exhaled once through his nose, then muttered to himself with that calm, calculated confidence only he possessed: "Seems like its the third quarter..." "This will be the turning point." He raised one arm and rotated his shoulder, loosening up. "Guess Ill need to use... 70 percent of my seriousness." Behind him, Jace Holloway caught the words. "Hah? 70 already? You sure about that?" Leonel didnt smile. He didnt blink. His amber eyes narrowed. "Yeah. That blond-haired kid? Ethan?" "Hes calculating something. And I dont like when people try to solve me." Jace grinned, spinning the ball on his finger. "Well, then lets go show him why nobody ever finishes solving us." .. Meanwhile, on the Vorpal bench... Ethan was silent, tying the laces on his shoes a little tighter than usual. The rest of the team noticed the shift in his breathing focused, but heavier. Ayumi, standing behind the bench with her clipboard, spoke quietly. "Leonels getting serious, isnt he?" Ethan didnt look up. "Hes not the only one." Lucas glanced at Ethan, catching the tone in his voice. "You ready?" Ethan stood, his voice low but certain. "Ive been ready since the day we lost our first game." .. Start of 3rd Quarter Score: Blazing Fox 49 C Vorpal Basket 48 The tension was thick electric, like ozone before a storm. The crowd rumbled, feet tapping, snacks forgotten. Phones were lifted. Cameras pointed. No one wanted to miss the opening possession. At center court, Brandon Young locked eyes with DeShawn Briggs, both crouched low for the tip. The referee stepped in. Whistle clenched. Ball in hand. Ethan, now fully in, stood just behind the three-point line, fingers on his knees. Lucas Graves, hands twitching at his sides, eyes narrowed. Evan Cooper rolled his neck and muttered, "Lets get it." Tip-off. Whistle. Ball up. DeShawn tapped it but Brandon got a finger on it first. The ball tipped toward Lucas, who snagged it mid-air and landed in rhythm. The arena erupted. Ethans voice rang out immediately. "Run Horns Twist! Lucas corner, Brandon screen high!" Lucas drove to the left, sold the drive, then pitched it out to Ethan, who rotated to the top. Jace Holloway was already closing in, but Pump fake. Slide right. Step-back. Jumper. Swish. Vorpal 50 C Blazing Fox 49. Just five seconds in. Leonel Blaze walked the ball up, slow, as if testing the court for fault lines. Ethan stepped forward. "Back to man. Everyone lock in!" But Leonel wasnt looking at anyone else. Only Ethan. (You countered the opening moment... Now show me if you can stop this.) He dribbled once, twice then exploded into a crossover, slicing through Evans reach. Brandon hedged, trying to trap. But Leonel didnt stop. Spin. Behind the back. No-look bounce to Jace. Jace caught released immediately from the corner. Net. Clean. Blazing Fox 52 C Vorpal 50. Jace backpedaled, grinning. "Told you! You solve one problem three more show up!" ... Lucas took it up this time. "Give," he called to Evan. "Let me cook him." Jace waited at the top, playful but locked in. Lucas dribbled hard right, stopped, snatched it back between the legs, then fired a low pass to Ryan cutting baseline. Ryan went up but Malik "Titan" Reed met him at the rim. BLOCKED. The ball bounced loose. Noah Vance scooped it up. Fast break initiated. Leonel had it again. Three defenders back. Didnt matter. He euro-stepped through a gap, flipped it up and over Brandons fingertips. And scored. Blazing Fox 54 C Vorpal 50. ... On the sideline, Ayumi clenched her fists, heart racing. (Theyre running plays off instinct like theyve been choreographed their whole lives...) She looked at Ethan who wasnt shaken. Just focused. ... Back to offense. Evan brought it up , this time called for the stagger screen. Brandon. Then Ryan. But Leonel anticipated it all, ducked under both, and met Evan at the point of attack. Strip. Fast hands. Steal. And a full-court pass to DeShawn who dunked it without even taking a dribble. BOOM. Blazing Fox 56 C Vorpal 50. Timeout called. The gym vibrated with cheers and gasps. .... In the timeout huddle... No one talked for two seconds. Then Lucas slapped the bench. "Theyre overwhelming us again!" Ryan wiped his forehead, "Theyre jumping our plays before we run them." Coonie leaned forward, breathing hard. "Its like Leonel sees the entire game before it happens." Ethan nodded, sweat running down his jaw. "He does. Hes in Zone Vision now." Everyone looked at him. Brandon asked, "What do we do?" Ethan exhaled. Then stood. "We use chaos." Lucas blinked. "Chaos?" Ethan looked around. One by one. "Their strength is order. Rhythm. Precision. Leonels Zone Vision sees clean patterns. We break them with broken basketball cuts, crashes, early shots, motion offense without rigid lanes." Ryan snapped his fingers. "Unorthodox style. Improv!" Ethan nodded. "Exactly. Now go back out there and make the court messy." .... Back on court. Vorpal broke the formation early. Lucas started at point. Ryan cut baseline and flared out. Brandon sprinted into a slip screen that didnt even hit. Ethan faked right, then burst left into a quick catch-and-shoot. Swish. Blazing Fox 56 C Vorpal 53. Leonel paused mid-dribble. Eyes narrowed. (Interesting... no structure?) (Then Ill rebuild the game my way.) But chaos had started. Next possession Blazing Fox ran their normal stack set. Ethan broke it with a reach and a tap deflection! Ball loose! Evan dove. Passed it while sliding to Lucas who sprinted and elevated with one hand over Jace AND DUNKED. CROWD LOST IT. Vorpal 55 C Blazing Fox 56. Timeout Blazing Fox. And for the first time just for a second Leonel Blaze looked... slightly annoyed. Ethan turned to the bench, breathing deep. (This is it. A real game. Not a miracle. Not luck.) (Just a team... rising higher than they ever believed they could.) 3rd Quarter. Just beginning. And the war is far from over. To be continued... Chapter 149 - 136: Loan Shark (12) Chapter 149: Chapter 136: Loan Shark (12) Hi everyone, I hope youre all doing okay.Im really sorry to post this, but Im in a tough situation right now. I urgently need to pay for my tuition and exam fees, and Im at a breaking point. Ive tried all I can, but Im falling short. If anyone is willing to help, even just a small amount, it would mean so much to me.Landbank Account: 1746 3587 72(Any amount is deeply appreciated.) Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Even just sharing this would help more than you know. ???? .. .. 3rd Quarter Score: Blazing Fox 56 C Vorpal Basket 55 7:03 remaining The timeout huddle for Blazing Fox was unusually quiet. Coach Rios held his clipboard, not shouting, not panicking. Just watching. Leonel Blaze stood with his hands on his hips, sweat glistening down his temple but his amber eyes werent calm anymore. They were calculating. "They changed the rhythm," Leonel muttered. "They stopped playing basketball... and started playing chaos." Malik "Titan" Reed wiped his face with a towel. "So what now?" Leonel turned to Jace Holloway. "We bring the fire back. If they want chaos, well drown them in precision." Coach Rios finally spoke. "Jace, Malik. Start moving without the ball again. I want our triangle action flowing. Keep Leonel off the iso. Make them guess. DeShawnno more camping under the rim. Rotate. Pressure. Make them feel you." DeShawn grunted, flexing his arms. "Time to remind them whos the wall." They broke the huddle. ... Meanwhile, Vorpals bench. The younger players were catching their breath. Ayumi handed Ethan a cold towel, but he didnt use it. He stared at the court like a man trying to solve a puzzle before the last piece vanishes. Lucas leaned over. "We got em nervous." Ethan nodded. "But this is when they get deadly." Ryan wiped his face. "What, they werent already trying to kill us?" Brandon added, "They havent even subbed once." Ethan turned to them all. "Listen we keep the chaos, but not brainless. If they start rotating more, we attack the switch. Dont fight their size use it. Drag their center out, drive the gap, then dish or kick. Trust our reads." Coonie stood. "Then lets go again." Kai smirked. "Were not done until Jeremy sleeps peacefully tonight." Louie added, eyes focused, "No ones stealing this from us. Not this time." ... Back on the court. The whistle blew. Ethan, Lucas, Evan, Ryan, and Brandon returned. So did the Blazing Fox starters. Everyone was locked in. Leonel Blaze brought the ball up slowly, eyes scanning. Brandon stepped up early, hedging again but Leonel zipped a pass to Noah at the high post. Without hesitation, Noah bounced it inside to Malik, who faked once and spun baseline. SLAM. Blazing Fox 58 C Vorpal 55. Ethan inbounded to Evan, then sprinted to the right wing. Lucas flared out, taking a decoy screen from Ryan, while Brandon slipped low. Chaos resumed. Ryan caught, faked the shot, drew DeShawn out then whipped a bullet pass to Ethan at the corner. Catch. Shoot. Splash. TIED. 58C58. The arena was on fire again. Leonel didnt even hesitate. Brought it up, faked a screen, then lobbed a wild-looking arc... ...but it fell perfectly into Jace Holloways hands, who was already airborne. ALLEY-OOP FINISH. Blazing Fox 60 C Vorpal 58. .... Ayumi stood up on the sideline, clipboard clutched to her chest. Her voice cut through the noise: "Dont lose focus! Keep it moving!" Ethan glanced back at her voice. (Thats right... we move forward.) Ethans thought: (Hes not just passing. Leonels playing time. Like he can read the very direction of motion before we make it. So then) (If he sees the future... then we give him a future he doesnt understand.) Evan brought it up this time and gave it to Lucas. Lucas didnt dribble. He passed right back to Evan. Then sprinted behind him for a backdoor cut. DeShawn rotated to stop it but Ryan filled the wing, caught it from Evan, and immediately dished to Brandon in the low post. Brandon didnt hesitate. Up. Over DeShawn. BOOM. TIED AGAIN. 60C60. ... Coach Rios stood up, eyebrows twitching. (Theyre playing triangle-in-motion... from instinct?) Leonel called out, voice sharp now. "Push the pace!" The game sped up. ... For the next two minutes, it was a flurry of brilliance: Leonel hitting a fading mid-range jumper over a rotating Ethan. Lucas scoring with a lightning-quick crossover and finger roll past Jace. Jace answering with a logo three. Evan throwing a no-look alley-oop to Ryan off a broken transition. Score: 67C67. .... On the sideline... Ayumi whispered to herself. "This...." The game had transcended. Ego, pride, rivalry all gone. Now it was about survival. Which team wanted it more. ... Leonel stood at half court. Breathing steady. Brows furrowed. (They keep adapting... Ill need to go deeper.) He gave a signal. No words. Just a raised finger. (85%.) Backcourt. Ethan saw the signal. (Hes shifting again... and thats okay. Because were not done evolving either.) He clapped once. Vorpals players nodded. The war was still raging. But the fire in their hearts? It had only just begun. ... Leonel Blaze hit the top of the key like a thunderbolt. His sneakers squeaked but they didnt scream. They sliced. Ethans eyes locked on him. He was already crouched low, balanced, his weight ready to shift. But the problem wasnt Leonels speed. [It was his rhythm.] Leonels body feinted left. Then right. Then pivoted mid-air not just to shift direction, but to shift the tempo of time itself. Ethan stepped left too soon. Then adjusted too late. Leonel slid past him like water slipping through fingers. Another pivot. A spin. Then a lightning-quick hop-step. Ethan tried again to mirror him, but "Tch!" His breath caught. His knees almost buckled. .... Ethans thoughts screamed: (FUCK I CANT MATCH UP WITH HIM!) (His footwork, its years ahead of mine. Hes not just fast, hes precise. Each movement isnt flashy its controlled chaos. Like he knows what Ill do before I do it.) Leonels eyes flicked toward Ethan for the briefest second. A small, unreadable grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Still standing?" he muttered under his breath. "Thats impressive... for someone still learning to walk." He floated into a soft floater it arced, kissed the backboard, and dropped in. Swish. Blazing Fox 69 C Vorpal 67. .... Ethan stumbled back, chest rising and falling. He wasnt just winded. He was being deconstructed. Ayumis voice cut from the bench: "Ethan!!" Lucas was already standing. Ryan and Brandon both tensed up. Ethan wiped sweat from his jaw. But that wasnt what made him shiver. It was the gap. Not of talent but experience. Refinement. Polish. Court IQ. Leonel Blaze was a maestro. And Ethan? Still tuning his first instrument. ... Ethans thoughts returned, burning: (So this is what its like... going against a future pro. No. Against someone whos already there.) (Im using every card, every skill, every instinct... and I still cant stop him. Shit.) (But) He clenched his fists. (Im still here.) (And that means something.) Lucas jogged over during the dead ball. "You okay?" Ethan nodded slowly, still catching his breath. "Im fine. Just... hes on another level." Lucas smiled, but not mockingly. "Then lets rise to it." .... Next possession. Vorpal inbounds. Ethan gives it to Evan, who scans the court Leonels watching him, arms spread wide, reading everything like an open book. Ethan runs off a staggered screen by Ryan and Brandon but Leonels already adjusting. Already cutting off the passing lane. Evan swings it to Lucas instead. Lucas glances at Ethan eyes flash then slashes in. Drive. Kick. Ethan wide open in the corner. He breathes in, sets his feet Shoots. Bang. Score tied: 69C69. Leonel raised an eyebrow. Then nodded, faintly. (You adapt faster than I expected, Ethan Albarado.) (Good. Keep adapting. Lets see how far you can climb before you break.) ... Midtown Arena C Back Row, Bleacher Seats The roar of the crowd rang like thunder across the court. But in one dimly lit corner, the air felt colder. Tighter. Jeremy Park sat stiffly, fingers clutched at his jeans. His eyes, wide and locked onto the court, didnt blink. Next to him, lounging with a thick cigar in his mouth, was Big King the infamous loan shark. His bald head reflected the court lights above, and a deep scar twitched along his left eye as he watched the game unfold with a sneer carved across his lips. When Ethan hit the corner three to tie the score at 69C69, the arena exploded. And so did Jeremys heart. .... Jeremys thoughts raced, fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white: (Ethan... hes still standing after that? After Leonel broke him down?) (Hes not backing down. Theyre actually... fighting toe-to-toe.) Brick, one of Big Kings goons seated nearby, leaned in and muttered with a crooked grin, "Well damn. I didnt think theyd even make it to halftime." Big King didnt answer right away. He took a slow drag from his cigar, let the smoke rise like fog in front of his stone face. Then, deep and gravelly, he finally spoke: "That blond-haired kid... Ethan, huh?" "Not bad." Jeremy glanced sideways, startled. Big King wasnt known for compliments. Not even sarcastic ones. Brick laughed nervously. "Still doesnt mean theyll win, right, boss?" Big King didnt reply. He simply leaned forward, cigar clenched between his teeth, eyes never leaving the court. But Jeremy could feel the shift. Big King had stopped mocking. And that scared Jeremy more than any insult. .... Jeremys thoughts whispered, heavy and anxious: (Theyre starting to respect us...) (But if we lose that respect will vanish, and so will everything Im trying to protect.) He gritted his teeth, still trembling. But then Ethans calm, unbroken stare replayed in his mind. The shot. The defense. The will. (Ethan... youre not just fighting for yourself. Youre fighting for me, too.) (I believe in you, man. Just dont fall now.) ..... Big King leaned back with a low growl. "Keep watching, Park." "Hope aint free." And the game continued. Score tied. Pressure building. And the eyes of predators watching from the shadows. To be continued... Chapter 150 - 137: Loan Shark (13) Chapter 150: Chapter 137: Loan Shark (13) Score: Blazing Fox 74 C Vorpal Basket 71 3rd Quarter C 5:42 Remaining The gym lights glared above like twin suns. Sweat clung to every jersey, dripping onto the hardwood. The crowd was loud but in Ethans ears, all of it faded to a static hush. He stood near the sideline, towel around his neck, hands on his hips, eyes locked on the court. And his thoughts burned: "(The hell... theyre not tired?)" "(Theyve been on since the first... full-court presses, switches, off-ball cuts, and theyre still this fast... this focused...)" He scanned them again Leonel Blaze, still sprinting like the game just started. Jace Holloway, draining a corner three like it was warm-up. Titan Reed, flying in for boards and crashing the rim. Noah Vance, eyes cold, reading passing lanes like chess pieces. DeShawn Briggs, towering over the court, swatting Brandons shot earlier like it was a fly. Ethans brow twitched. His breath short. His fingers tensed. "(Weve been grinding, bleeding for every point... and theyre acting like they havent broken a sweat.)" .... On the court, Lucas slapped the floor in defense, breathing hard. Brandons knees were bent, hands low locked in. Ryan, for once, wasnt making jokes. Josh and Evan, both panting between possessions, were focused, eyes on Leonel and Jace like hawks. Ayumi stood behind the bench, watching Ethan. She saw it. That look. The one that only showed up when he was calculating something dangerous. .... She asked, gently, "Ethan... whats wrong?" He didnt look at her. He just muttered: "Theyre machines..." Ayumi blinked. "What?" Ethan turned slightly, voice flat: "Theyre not just talented. Theyre conditioned like no one weve faced. Theyve trained for longer... smarter." "Their chemistry is second nature." He took a slow, deep breath. "And were almost out of gas." ..... On the court C 5 minutes remaining, 3rd Quarter Score: Blazing Fox 77 C Vorpal Basket 71 Leonel Blaze sliced through the chaos. Evan tried. God, he tried. But Leonels feet were already two steps ahead. He danced around the double screen like wind dodging stones and in one smooth pivot, drove down the lane. His eyes flashed. That inhuman sixth sense Zone Vision activated. Bounce pass. No look. Clean timing. Jace Holloway caught it without thinking. Step-back. Flick. Swish. The net barely moved. Score: 77C71. Blazing Fox lead widens again. ... From the bench Coonie shot up. "Theyre pulling again!" Kai muttered, fists clenched. "Were letting it slip... again!" But Ethan? He stood still. His fingers gripped the edge of his shorts. Jaw tight. But he didnt speak. Because inside his head? The gears were screaming. "(We run with them we die before the fourth. Our bench? Theyre fighters, not machines.)" "(But if we slow it down, Leonel takes over. He bends time. Controls pace. And if he does that... its over.)" He glanced at Lucas, chest heaving, sweat falling like rain. Too much used of Mimicry. Then to Josh, Brandon, Evan still not tired due to Lucas. And finally... Louie Gee. Seated at the end of the bench, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, head down like a fighter waiting for the bell. But his eyes...? Blazing. Focused. A storm behind them. .... Suddenly, Louie stood. "Let me in, Ethan!" he barked. Ethan turned. One eyebrow raised, but his tone stayed calm. "Hmm? Why?" Louie smirked. "Cause Im gonna show them... what a real street baller looks like." A ripple of energy went through the bench. Evan blinked. "Junior? You didnt even show them in the 2nd quarter." Louie cracked his neck and shrugged. "Hmph. I was just reading them. Thats why I didnt need to use my full power in that second quarter." Silence for a beat. Then... "Pfft!" Josh burst out laughing. "This guy really said reading them like hes in some anime!" "Man thinks hes a manga panel," Brandon snorted. Even Kai chuckled. "Okay, Ill give you that one, Junior. Show us this full power then." Ayumi covered her mouth, stifling a giggle. But her eyes? Her eyes were curious. Ethan, still half-serious, half-intrigued, leaned in. "Alright then, Louie. Whats your plan?" Louie tightened his shoelaces, voice confident. "I dont play traditional. I break rhythms. I make chaos. I make the maestro over there hit the wrong note." He jerked a thumb toward Leonel, who stood midcourt calm, calculating, untouchable. "You wanna shake their system?" Louie said. "Then let me flip the table." ..... Ethan exhaled. There it was. The spark. The unpredictable. (A wild card...) (Maybe thats exactly what we need.) He turned to Ayumi. "Sub him in." Ayumi nodded and signaled to the officials. Louie jogged toward the scorers table, peeling off his warmup. As he stepped onto the court, he looked over his shoulder. "Yo, Leonel..." Leonel turned just slightly eyes sharp, unreadable. Louie grinned. "Time to mess up your tempo." Lucas turned to Louie, a grin tugging at the edge of his lips. He rolled his shoulder and stepped closer, bumping Louie lightly with his arm. "Dont hold me down out there," Lucas said, teasing, his golden eyes gleaming with playful fire. Louie scoffed, eyes narrowing. "Youre the one who better not hold me down!" he shot back, pointing at Lucass chest. Ayumi just smiled from behind her clipboard, watching them. But her gaze lingered on Lucas just a little longer before turning to Louie. (Theyre both fired up...) ("Good. Thats what we need right now.") ... Crowd reaction was instant. A murmur, a rise of cheers. The moment crackled with something rare. Not fear. Not hope. But chaos. The kind that could break even the most perfect rhythm. Louie Gee and Lucas Graves were about to bring the street into the rhythm. .. Meanwhile, in the shadowy top row of the old Midtown Arena, a lone figure leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hood half-draped over his eyes. Jan, Louies childhood friend, had snuck in with barely enough change for the cheapest seat. But he wasnt going to miss this. He watched as Louie stepped onto the court, bumping shoulders with Lucas, full of bravado as always. But Jan knew what lay underneath the jokes, the taunts, the swagger. "Hes doing that thing again," Jan muttered under his breath. "Acting like its just fun... like it doesnt matter." But then Louies eyes glanced toward the stands for just a second not long, but just enough. Enough for Jan to catch it. And that was all it took. Jans grip tightened on the edge of his seat. His heart beat a little harder. "(Good luck, Louie.)" "(This is your moment. Show them what streetball really looks like.)" As the whistle blew and the game resumed, Jan leaned back, the faintest grin playing on his lips. "Make em remember your name." To be continue