Extra Basket-Chapter 152 - 139: Loan Shark (15)

Score: 78–80. Blazing Fox leads.

2:14 remaining, 3rd Quarter

The basketball clanged off the backboard like a gunshot, ricocheting into the upper stands.

Gasps turned to shouts.

Fans leapt to their feet. Phones lit up like fireflies. The roar of the crowd became a tidal wave of noise, drowning out everything else.

Through the chaos, Malik "Titan" Reed dropped back down to the floor, the echo of his landing shaking the hardwood like thunder. His massive chest heaved, sweat glistening down his arms, but his eyes

his eyes were locked onto Brandon

A beast recognizing its challenge.

A hunter recognizing prey.

"NOT TODAY!" Malik roared, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade of raw willpower.

"Not in my house!"

Brandon stumbled back a step, the air caught in his lungs.

(How... how did he get up that fast...? He blocked it clean. No foul?)

His fingers trembled slightly. The ball had left his hand too slow. Too soft.

(No. I was too soft.)

From the sidelines, Coach Rios remained still, arms crossed over his chest. While the crowd moved like a storm, he was the eye of it. Calm. Centered. Calculated.

He gave a single, slight nod.

"This is our tempo now," he muttered under his breath. His voice was almost drowned out by the drums and chants in the background.

"Our stage."

He watched Titan jog backward, pounding his chest, motioning for more—

more pressure, more fight, more fire.

(Let them run. Let them rise.) Coach Rios thought.

(We’re past surviving. Now we take control.)

In that moment, something shifted. Not just on the scoreboard.

The momentum had been snatched out of the air mid-flight, and it now beat to the rhythm of Blazing Fox’s heart.

And Titan was the one setting the beat.

...

Back on the court...

Ethan stood frozen at the top of the arc, the ball heavy in his hands, sweat running down his temple and dripping from his chin.

His lungs drew tight. The sound of the arena dulled into a low hum, like he was submerged underwater.

(They’re not reacting anymore...)

(They’re anticipating. They’re flowing like water around every screen, every cut...)

(No wasted movement. No hesitation.)

He looked to his right.

Lucas was still stumbling out of a screen set by Noah, hands flailing slightly, the space he’d hoped to use already swallowed up.

To his left, Louie, the unpredictable rhythm of the storm, stood still stunned as if someone had reached into his chest and stolen his tempo.

(They solved Louie...) Ethan’s heart pounded against his ribs.

(They solved all of us.)

He bit down on his bottom lip, hard. The copper tang of blood met his tongue, but he didn’t flinch.

He jab-stepped. Titan didn’t bite. The defender was already two moves ahead.

(No gaps. No errors. No fear.)

On the sidelines, Ayumi stood upright, her knuckles white as they clutched the towel in her hands. Her eyes were locked on Ethan like she could will strength into him from the bench.

Her lips parted. The words came out barely a whisper, swallowed by the chaos of the crowd.

"Ethan..."

"Don’t lose it now."

...

Inbound pass.

Evan Cooper exploded into motion, darting right with blistering speed

then cutting sharply left, slicing through the defense like a blade through silk.

The defender lunged—

(He bit.)

And that’s all Evan needed.

In one fluid motion, he flicked a no-look pass over his shoulder, smooth as instinct.

It landed perfectly into the waiting hands of Lucas Graves, perched at the wing just beyond the arc.

Lucas’s sneakers squeaked loud against the hardwood.

Catch. Balance.

Pump fake.

The defender launched past, biting the air.

(Open.)

One dribble.

Rise.

Release—

THWAP!

The sound cracked through the air like a gunshot.

Jace had soared into the frame like a shadow cast too late—

and his hand swatted the ball out of existence.

Effortless.

Cruel.

Precise.

The ball bounced once.

Twice.

Then—

Leonel didn’t just grab it.

He snatched it out of the air, twisting on his heel before gravity could blink.

Already sprinting.

Already gone.

A blur of black and red streaking toward the other end of the court.

Ethan gave chase.

But it felt like running after a lightning strike.

(No... he’s too fast—)

"Noah!" Leonel barked mid-stride, voice sharp as steel.

Noah answered instantly, catching the laser pass in motion without a hitch.

Bounce pass.

Threaded perfectly between two defenders, like it had eyes.

Malik "Titan" Reed was already in flight.

He didn’t gather. He launched.

A single, furious motion rising, coiling, detonating.

BOOM!

The rim shook as if the entire court had to brace for impact.

The gym became a volcano of sound.

Crowd on their feet.

Shouts exploding.

Blazing Fox: 82. Vorpal: 78.

Vorpal’s bench fell silent.

A heavy, suffocating quiet.

Coonie clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles whitened.

"They’re everywhere!" he hissed.

Kai pounded the floor with his towel, "We’re falling apart... what the hell is this..."

....

Then, Ethan Albarado walked slowly.

Ball in hand.

Everything around him faded into a muffled, distant world—

the pounding music,

the screaming fans,