Extra Basket-Chapter 112 - 99: The Genius vs The Pro (2)

Score: 3 – 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 didn’t need to taunt me.

Didn’t 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 Jalen’s every movement.

"He’s not even breaking a sweat."

Evan Cooper (#9) leaned forward, whispering,

"Ethan’s 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. freewebnoveℓ.com

"C’mon Ethan... don’t 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. I’m not suicidal."

...

I took a breath.

Focus.

The court was silent—again.

No birds. No voices.

Just the distant buzz of wind slipping between trees.

"Let’s 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. That’s all it took.

Then—

I moved.

Left drive—Crossover—Behind-the-back.

He mirrored everything. Like I was his reflection.

Low dribble—spin.

He didn’t 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 twitch—maybe 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 jumped—arm extended.

I twisted, ball under, then up—

Double clutch layup—SWISH.

Tie game. 3 - 3.

...

Behind me, the bench erupted.

Louie clenched his fist.

"Let’s go! That’s what I’m 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 he’d 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.

"You’re not the only one who practices."

He nodded slowly.

"Heh... looks like I really can’t slack off anymore."

Then—

His aura changed.

It wasn’t a metaphor.

You could feel it.

The temperature didn’t 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, "He’s... compressing himself."

FLASH WORLD

Jalen’s 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.

"Let’s see how long you last in my world," he said, eyes locked in.

I met his gaze.

"I’ll last long enough to win."

Then—

Boom.

He vanished.

....

It wasn’t teleportation.

It was footwork.

But so clean, so explosive—my eyes couldn’t track the first step.

I reacted instantly.

[Lockdown Defense]

My body moved on instinct.

He reappeared on my right.

Cross.

I slid. Matched it.

Spin—Stop. Shift.

I stayed close. Chest tight to his side. Hands active.

Hezi. Drop-step.

I bit, barely.

But the flow of it—it wasn’t 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 wasn’t 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 didn’t even blink."

Aiden stepped forward. "This guy... he’s 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 didn’t 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 didn’t care.

"Everyone’s 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.

Noah’s 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.

"(That’s Lucas Graves... the prodigy. The one who made headlines because of that one match against Orlando. The way he copies like he’s reading a book... Monster.)"

Then Noah’s eyes shifted toward the boy holding the ball.

Ethan Albarado.

"(And that’s 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 Noah’s breathing.

Then, he turned back to Jalen.

"Captain. We have to go. Everyone’s been searching for you. It’s freaking 5:50 p.m. already—almost 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 that’s my cue."

Ethan stayed silent.

He didn’t drop the ball.

He didn’t relax.

Jalen walked up, slowly, step by step, until he stood in front of him.

"Let’s 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.

Lucas’s 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.

It’s not over yet...

..

Minutes later

The echo of Jalen’s footsteps had long faded.

What remained wasn’t silence.

It was something deeper.

A stillness filled with awe.

Realization.

Purpose.

The members of Vorpal Basket gathered near the bench—towels 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 effort—of 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 – 3.

He lost.

But for some reason...

It didn’t 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 I’d see someone guard

Flash and score on him. Same possession. That’s unreal."

Evan Cooper leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "That wasn’t pickup-mode Jalen. That was locked-in, MVP-mode Jalen. You stood in the storm, Ethan. You didn’t even flinch."

Still, Ethan didn’t answer right away.

Then—

He stood.

His gaze remained steady, calm, honest.

"I wasn’t 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.

Lucas’s 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 that’s the kind of opponent that makes someone stronger."

Ethan tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow.

"That supposed to be a compliment?"

Lucas’s 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 didn’t break eye contact.

"I want the next match."

Ethan nodded once. No hesitation.

"You’ll get it."

The silence that followed wasn’t 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 benches—short, skinny, and brimming with chaotic energy.

Messy brown hair bounced with every step.

His oversized Vorpal Basket jersey flapped behind him—number 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. Can’t 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, that’s 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