Extra Basket-Chapter 144 - 131: Loan Shark (7)

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Score: 13–13.

The ball sailed through the net a clean bank off the glass from Lucas’s Free throw — and the buzzer from the scorer’s table confirmed the tie.

Ayumi stood up halfway, heart pounding. "It’s 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 didn’t 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.

(We’re on pace. But this rhythm — we have to push it just a little more. Just enough to disrupt Leonel’s 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.

"You’re not walking past me again," Evan muttered.

Leonel didn’t blink. "It’s not about walking past you."

He leaned in, whispered just loud enough: "It’s about bending the game."

And then snap.

Leonel shifted. A blinding pivot. A sudden stop. Evan’s feet slid a fraction too wide.

"NO!"

Leonel didn’t 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" Reed’s hands.

BANG!

A two-handed power slam that rattled the rim.

The crowd gasped.

Score: 15–13. Blazing Fox regains the lead.

Ayumi gritted her teeth. "They’re not even celebrating. They’re playing like it’s business."

Ethan clenched his jaw. (That’s Leonel’s control. He sets the tempo, then lets his teammates finish it. A master of flow... But we’ll 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 won’t get cooked twice."

Lucas didn’t smile.

He dropped low again then suddenly rose.

Not a drive.

A jumper.

Quick. Clean.

Jace jumped late — too late.

SWISH.

Score: 15–15. Tie again.

Ayumi stood again without realizing it. "Lucas... you’re glowing."

Ethan’s system flashed briefly in his vision:

[Lucas Graves – Momentum Gauge: Rising]

[Synergy Boost: +5% Offensive Rhythm]

Ethan smiled faintly. (The team synergy card is working. They’re starting to trust each other more with every possession.)

Leonel caught the inbound. But this time, he didn’t 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 can’t 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: 17–15. VORPAL TAKES THE LEAD.

Kai shouted from the bench, "LET’S GOOO!"

Coonie threw his towel in the air. "They’re 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 Josh’s slam, but Ethan’s sharp eyes weren’t 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. "You’re focusing pretty hard on the game, huh?"

Louie didn’t answer immediately. His jaw was tight.

Finally, he muttered without looking away—

"I need to watch how much of a gap we have."

Ethan’s gaze softened slightly. "Gap?"

Louie’s knuckles tightened. "Lucas... he’s moving like a different person. I’ve been practicing every day, but the way he moves, reads, reacts — it’s not something you can just ’catch up’ to. It’s like... he’s becoming someone else entirely."

He finally looked at Ethan, frustration clouding his eyes.

"I’m pissed, okay? Not at him. At myself. Because I don’t know if I can ever reach that level not just Lucas, even Evan’s holding his own against Leonel. I’m not even on the floor."

Ethan sat beside him, leaning forward. His voice low. Firm.

"So what? You think you’re weak just because you’re not on the court today?"

Louie didn’t answer.

Ethan continued. "Let me tell you something. I’ve already seen your data in the system. You’re not weak. But what separates guys like Lucas right now isn’t just talent — it’s belief. Belief, preparation... and pressure."

Louie looked up, brows furrowed. "Pressure?"

"Lucas is only playing like this because his back’s against the wall," Ethan said. "If you were on the court, with a loan shark threatening your team, with your friend’s life on the line, would you back down?"

Louie’s 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 didn’t 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 wasn’t backing down. The score was 17–17, 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 didn’t 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. "C’mon, 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: 17–19, 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 might’ve betrayed him.

From the bench, Louie cackled. "Yo! Ryan’s got jokes and assists!"

Kai said, "Didn’t 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, we’re winning inches.)

...

Meanwhile, on the bench, high above in the old Midtown Arena’s 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 wasn’t 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 hadn’t stepped on court.

Below them, the court buzzed — score: 17–19, Vorpal leading.

Big King leaned forward slightly, his heavy chain bracelets clinking with the movement.

"Your team is leading, huh." ƒгeewebnovёl_com

His voice was deep, slow, and carried a terrifying weight — the kind of voice that made you want to confess things you didn’t do just to get away from it.

Jeremy swallowed hard.

"Y-yes, sir."

Big King didn’t 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 don’t..."

He turned his head slowly toward Jeremy, that scarred eye narrowing like a blade being drawn.

"You know what happens to you."

Jeremy’s heart thundered.

His throat was dry. His lips trembled.

(I know... I know what happens. I shouldn’t have borrowed the money... I shouldn’t have let them down... But Ethan said he’ll fix this. They’re fighting for me... They have to win—)

Brick let out a low chuckle, tapping Jeremy’s shoulder with the back of his knuckles.

"Damn, you’re sweating more than the players, Jeremy-boy."

He grinned wide, showing a gold tooth.

"Don’t worry. If they lose, maybe Big King’ll 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 teammate’s dreams and debts.

Jeremy clenched his fists.

(You guys... please. Don’t lose. I can’t afford to lose. I believe in you. I... I believe in you, Ethan.)

..

Meanwhile, high in the shadows of the old Midtown Arena’s upper-level seats...

A pair of intense amber eyes glinted through the gloom, locked onto the court below.

The crowd’s 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 won’t get to play this team after all, huh."

He didn’t 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 he’s 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. "He’s got brains. And that black-haired guy with golden eyes... Lucas Graves. He’s got something else."

Then he grinned wild, teeth sharp, eyes blazing.

"Still... even if they beat the Blazing Fox, it won’t 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..."

"It’s always fun to watch mortals play."

And then he laughed a low, rumbling sound like thunder rolling across a battlefield.

To be continue

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