Extra Basket-Chapter 163 - 150: Division Cup Vorpal vs Storm (4)

Score: 17–17

Division Cup: Vorpal Basket vs. Roanoke Storm

The players huddled around Ethan, their jerseys damp with sweat, breathing sharp. The court lights above them burned hot. Fans shouted in the distance, but inside the circle — it was calm.

Coach Fred stood awkwardly at the back, still chewing on his protein bar, pretending to nod along.

Ethan knelt down in the center, clipboard resting on one knee. His tone was calm, yet sharp like steel.

Ethan said, "Listen up. We’re not playing basketball their way anymore. From here on out... we don’t match their rhythm. We shatter it."

The boys leaned in.

Louie frowned.

"You mean... like play messy?"

Ethan nodded once.

"Exactly. The Storm is clean. Surgical. They run off tempo predictability. So we strip that from them. We drag them into chaos."

Kai raised a brow.

"So we just start going wild?"

Ethan shook his head.

"No. We go smart inside the chaos. We rotate fast. Trap early. Collapse on rebounds. If they expect the corner shooter, we close late and funnel him in. If Kagetsu isolates again..."

"...Lucas, you shadow — but don’t engage. Let him think you’re slipping. Force the pass."

Lucas wiped sweat from his chin, nodding.

"Copy. Don’t fight rhythm reroute it."

Jeremy Park clenched his fist.

"I’ll crash boards harder. We box out even if it breaks our backs."

Ethan nodded.

"Good. Jeremy, Coonie — you two are going to switch paint coverage every other possession. One low, one mid, no rhythm. They won’t know who’s screening or recovering. Got it?"

Coonie cracked his knuckles.

"Got it. Iam PG originally but okay I’ll be the wall."

Ayumi stepped forward with her clipboard, voice quiet but clear.

"I’ll call the rotation sets from the bench. Numbers only. ’Blue’ means a double switch. ’Red’ means stagger and pop."

Louie grinned.

"Yo this is sounding like war, I’m getting hype."

Kai added, "Finally... controlled chaos. I love this."

Evan looked at Ethan seriously.

"You sure this’ll work?"

Ethan looked at every one of them eyes steady.

"No. I’m not sure."

"But I know one thing."

"If we keep playing their game we already lost."

A tense silence.

Then... Lucas broke into a smile.

"Then let’s play our game."

"Vorpal Style."

Everyone’s fists reached to the center of the huddle one by one.

Coonie. "Brick wall mode."

Jeremy. "For my second chance."

Kai. "For the code-breakers."

Louie. "For fire and chaos!"

Lucas. "For the win."

They all looked at Ethan.

He nodded.

"For what comes next."

All together their fists met.

"VORPAL!!"

The whistle blew.

Timeout ended.

They scattered back onto the court, but something had changed.

Not just in the players.

But in the air.

It wasn’t just a game anymore.

It was the start of Ethan’s war.

..

2nd Quarter Begins

The whistle shrieked.

The second quarter tipped off but the game had already shifted.

The hardwood was still the same.

The fans were still screaming.

But the air?

It was different now.

The clean rhythm that Roanoke Storm had danced to in the first quarter was gone.

...

Commentator – Jamie:

"Whoa, Coach Doyle Vorpal just switched their whole unit mid-game and... is that a trap press I see?"

Coach Doyle (arms crossed):

"Not just a trap. It’s shifting. Rotating zones inside man coverage. This isn’t basketball anymore... this is system scrambling."

...

On the Court

Roanoke Storm Possession

Marcus "Flash" Daniels brought the ball up.

Fast.

Clean.

Until—

BAM.

Louie Gee Davas flew in from the left. Arms out.

Kai Mendoza slid in from the right. A trap.

Flash’s eyes widened.

"Tch—what the—"

He passed behind instinctively but Jeremy anticipated it.

STEAL.

Coonie grabbed the loose ball and kicked it up to Kai who didn’t sprint.

No he slowed.

Then suddenly accelerated again. Unreadable pacing.

He dished to Lucas corner.

Lucas pump-faked.

Kagetsu bit slightly a flinch.

Lucas drove baseline.

Then stopped. Passed back.

Louie caught.

Fadeaway jumper.

SWISH.

Score: Vorpal 19 – Roanoke 17

Coach Halter stood up, frowning.

"That was disjointed... unpredictable. They’re not running sets. They’re running instincts."

..

Roanoke’s Next Possession

Tyrese Caldwell tried to bring order back. A tight screen from Tank Malone freed him briefly.

But—

Coonie switched on him mid-move.

Then immediately passed him off to Jeremy without even a word.

"What the hell—?!" Caldwell muttered, losing his dribble.

Ball slipped Kai dove.

SCRAMBLE.

Loose ball.

Coonie flips it behind his back Louie catches it mid-run behind-the-back to Lucas.

Lucas jump-stop.

Then a soft, clean bounce pass to Kai.

Kai SLAMS IT IN.

CROWD: "OOOOOOOOHHH!!!"

Score: Vorpal 21 – Roanoke 17

Jamie (commentator):

"Vorpal is dismantling Roanoke’s structure piece by piece! This is not just basketball, Coach Doyle, it’s a controlled collapse!"

Coach Doyle (eyes locked):

"That boy... Ethan Albarado... he’s not just a player. He is a Commander...."

..

Bench – Ethan (watching calmly):

(They’re lost. Kagetsu’s not used to disorder. He thrives in clean duels symmetry. But this... this is noise.)

He turned to Ayumi and said:

"Mark the time. 7 minutes. If they don’t adjust in two minutes, we hit the next phase."

freēwēbηovel.c૦m

Ayumi nodded, already jotting notes.

...

Roanoke’s Bench

Coach Halter’s jaw tightened.

"They’re flooding us with fake rotations... it’s chaos. No predictability. Where the hell is their point guard?"

His assistant whispered, "They don’t have one... or rather..."

"...they all are."

....

Back on court — Kagetsu caught the ball at the top.

Lucas faced him again.

Kagetsu narrowed his eyes.

"So you’ve shifted. No more predictable one-on-one, huh?"

Lucas didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

Because chaos...

...had already become their new order.

..

Meanwhile Vorpal Bench

The gym buzzed with energy, the rhythm of sneakers squealing and bodies colliding echoing like a war drum.

But for a moment, the bench was quiet watching.

Brandon Young sat forward, forearms resting on his knees.

His eyes didn’t blink once.

He muttered low, voice like gravel, eyes tracing every pass:

"...They’re moving like wildfire... no, faster. This isn’t just plays. It’s instinct now."

Ryan Taylor, sitting beside him, clenched his fists not out of frustration, but awe.

He leaned closer to Brandon.

"They’re adapting mid-play... just flowing like water. This ain’t the team we started with last month."

Brandon gave a slow nod.

"Yeah. It’s like... Ethan taught ’em to fight with no rhythm. Just read, react, respond."

Aiden White looked across the bench locking eyes with Josh Turner.

They didn’t say anything at first.

Just exchanged a look.

Understanding.

Respect.

Shock.

Then Josh exhaled.

"Louie’s timing... Lucas’s vision... even Jeremy’s rotations? Damn. We started the game."

"But they’re controlling it now."

Aiden gave a small smirk.

"This is Ethan’s second quarter strategy?"

Josh nodded.

"It’s working."

Evan Cooper, the team’s starting point guard, wasn’t smiling.

He watched the court like a student watching a new class of soldiers emerge from fire.

His eyes locked onto Lucas gliding through the chaos, copying, learning, adapting.

(He’s not the same Lucas as the last game... this one’s dangerous.)

Then he looked over to Ethan, sitting calmly beside Ayumi arms crossed, head slightly tilted.

(And you... you planned this all along. This is what you meant by "noise.")

Evan’s grip tightened on his warm-up jersey.

But then?

He smirked.

"Alright, Ethan..."

"...when it’s our turn again — we better be even louder."

Ayumi Brooke, sitting beside Ethan, heard all of it.

She glanced over at him, Ethan still calm, focused, watching every movement.

And beneath that quiet intensity...

...was trust.

Not just in the strategy.

But in them.

...

Meanwhile from the sideline... Coach Richard Halter stood perfectly still.

His arms were crossed.

Eyes squinting slightly.

Lips tight.

He watched the floor like a master chess player... realizing the opponent had flipped the board.

"Tch..."

A breath escaped his lips.

Then a sharp, controlled whisper:

"He flipped the rhythm."

His assistant coach stepped beside him.

"They’re switching coverages mid-possession. On offense, they’re not even calling plays anymore. It’s reactive... it’s like they’re surfing the momentum."

Halter didn’t blink.

"It’s not momentum. It’s smoke. They’re feeding us false reads — distractions — so we chase ghosts."

He stepped closer to the sideline.

"The bench is scoring. Not just holding ground. Scoring."

He watched Louie rip through a double team and hit a one-legged floater.

"If we keep playing like this... we lose this quarter."

Then his voice dropped, sharp and decisive:

"Timeout. Now."

The assistant nodded, relayed the signal.

BUZZZ — TIMEOUT: ROANOKE STORM

The referee blew the whistle. Players jogged to their benches.

Coach Halter didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t need to.

The way he looked at Kagetsu, Marcus, and Tyrese... it was like fire behind frost.

He knelt slightly, hands on knees, eyes calm but intense.

"You’re reacting. You’re supposed to be the pressure — not the ones feeling it."

They stayed quiet.

"They’re not running plays. They’re forcing you to play instinct ball. That’s their domain. Not yours."

He pointed a finger directly at Marcus "Flash" Daniels.

"Stop dribbling into traps. If you see rotation, pivot early. Beat the movement, not the man."

Then to Kagetsu:

"And you."

Kagetsu lifted his eyes, calm, unreadable.

"They’re shadowing you indirectly. You don’t always have the ball — but they’re adjusting to you. So give them what they want..."

Kagetsu tilted his head.

"...and take it away at the last second."

Halter stood upright, voice colder now:

"No more clean basketball. You want rhythm? Take it from their bones."

...

Commentator – Jamie (over PA):

"Coach Halter calling a crucial timeout here — and you can feel it, Coach Doyle... something is about to snap back."

Coach Doyle:

"That’s the thing about storms, Jamie... the eye is calm. But the second half of it?"

"That’s where the thunder hits."

...

Kagetsu walking back to the court

As he stepped past the scorer’s table, Kagetsu glanced once to the Vorpal bench.

To Ethan Albarado.

Their eyes locked.

And Kagetsu... smiled.

A small, cold smile.

(So you’re the one who started the noise...)

(Then let’s see if you can survive what comes after silence breaks)

To be continue

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