Extra Basket-Chapter 149 - 136: Loan Shark (12)

Hi everyone, I hope you’re all doing okay.I’m really sorry to post this, but I’m in a tough situation right now. I urgently need to pay for my tuition and exam fees, and I’m at a breaking point. I’ve tried all I can, but I’m 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 – 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 weren’t 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, we’ll 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. DeShawn—no more camping under the rim. Rotate. Pressure. Make them feel you."

DeShawn grunted, flexing his arms.

"Time to remind them who’s the wall."

They broke the huddle.

...

Meanwhile, Vorpal’s bench.

The younger players were catching their breath.

Ayumi handed Ethan a cold towel, but he didn’t 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 weren’t already trying to kill us?"

Brandon added, "They haven’t 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. Don’t fight their size — use it. Drag their center out, drive the gap, then dish or kick. Trust our reads."

Coonie stood.

"Then let’s go again."

Kai smirked.

"We’re not done until Jeremy sleeps peacefully tonight."

Louie added, eyes focused,

"No one’s 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 – 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. 58–58.

The arena was on fire again.

Leonel didn’t even hesitate.

Brought it up, faked a screen, then lobbed a wild-looking arc...

...but it fell perfectly into Jace Holloway’s hands, who was already airborne.

ALLEY-OOP FINISH.

Blazing Fox 60 – Vorpal 58.

....

Ayumi stood up on the sideline, clipboard clutched to her chest. Her voice cut through the noise:

"Don’t lose focus! Keep it moving!"

Ethan glanced back at her voice.

(That’s right... we move forward.)

Ethan’s thought:

(He’s not just passing. Leonel’s 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 doesn’t understand.)

Evan brought it up this time and gave it to Lucas.

Lucas didn’t 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 didn’t hesitate.

Up. Over DeShawn.

BOOM.

TIED AGAIN. 60–60.

...

Coach Rios stood up, eyebrows twitching.

(They’re 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: 67–67.

....

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... I’ll need to go deeper.)

He gave a signal.

No words. Just a raised finger.

(85%.)

Backcourt.

Ethan saw the signal.

(He’s shifting again... and that’s okay. Because we’re not done evolving either.)

He clapped once.

Vorpal’s 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 didn’t scream. They sliced.

Ethan’s eyes locked on him. He was already crouched low, balanced, his weight ready to shift.

But the problem wasn’t Leonel’s speed.

[It was his rhythm.]

Leonel’s 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.

....

Ethan’s thoughts screamed:

(FUCK— I CAN’T MATCH UP WITH HIM!)

(His footwork, it’s years ahead of mine. He’s not just fast, he’s precise. Each movement isn’t flashy it’s controlled chaos. Like he knows what I’ll do before I do it.)

Leonel’s 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.

"That’s 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 – Vorpal 67.

....

Ethan stumbled back, chest rising and falling. He wasn’t just winded.

He was being deconstructed.

Ayumi’s voice cut from the bench:

"Ethan!!"

Lucas was already standing. Ryan and Brandon both tensed up.

Ethan wiped sweat from his jaw. But that wasn’t 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.

...

Ethan’s thoughts returned, burning:

(So this is what it’s like... going against a future pro. No. Against someone who’s already there.)

(I’m using every card, every skill, every instinct... and I still can’t stop him. Shit.)

(But—)

He clenched his fists.

(I’m still here.)

(And that means something.)

Lucas jogged over during the dead ball.

"You okay?"

Ethan nodded slowly, still catching his breath.

"I’m fine. Just... he’s on another level."

Lucas smiled, but not mockingly.

"Then let’s rise to it."

....

Next possession.

Vorpal inbounds.

Ethan gives it to Evan, who scans the court Leonel’s watching him, arms spread wide, reading everything like an open book.

Ethan runs off a staggered screen by Ryan and Brandon but Leonel’s 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: 69–69.

Leonel raised an eyebrow.

Then nodded, faintly.

(You adapt faster than I expected, Ethan Albarado.)

(Good. Keep adapting. Let’s see how far you can climb before you break.)

...

Midtown Arena – 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, didn’t 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 69–69, the arena exploded.

And so did Jeremy’s heart.

....

Jeremy’s thoughts raced, fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white:

(Ethan... he’s still standing after that? After Leonel broke him down?)

(He’s not backing down. They’re actually... fighting toe-to-toe.)

Brick, one of Big King’s goons seated nearby, leaned in and muttered with a crooked grin,

"Well damn. I didn’t think they’d even make it to halftime."

Big King didn’t 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 wasn’t known for compliments. Not even sarcastic ones.

Brick laughed nervously.

"Still doesn’t mean they’ll win, right, boss?"

Big King didn’t 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.

....

Jeremy’s thoughts whispered, heavy and anxious:

(They’re starting to respect us...)

(But if we lose — that respect will vanish, and so will everything I’m trying to protect.)

He gritted his teeth, still trembling.

But then Ethan’s calm, unbroken stare replayed in his mind.

The shot. The defense. The will.

(Ethan... you’re not just fighting for yourself. You’re fighting for me, too.)

(I believe in you, man. Just don’t fall now.)

.....

Big King leaned back with a low growl.

"Keep watching, Park."

"Hope ain’t free."

And the game continued.

Score tied. Pressure building.

And the eyes of predators watching from the shadows.

To be continued...

Visit freewe𝑏no(v)el.𝘤𝑜𝓂 for the best novel reading experi𝒆nce