Extra Basket-Chapter 70 - 57: White (13)

Louie Gee Davas, with his thin build and neatly combed straight hair, clenched his fists as he stared down the Venganza team. His voice echoed with raw emotion across the court.

"Serves you right, you motherfucker! You dare touch our captain?!"

He pointed accusingly at Zeke, fury burning in his eyes. Louie was Ethan’s number one fan—everyone on the team knew that. He had trained under Ethan’s guidance, learning techniques far beyond what his current level suggested.

From behind him, Evan stepped in, putting a calming hand on Louie’s shoulder.

"Now, now. Calm down, Louie. Don’t let them get in your head."

Louie scowled but said nothing more, gritting his teeth.

Meanwhile, Lucas glanced over at Charlotte, his sister, who was flexing her sore wrist, trying to shake off the sting from the foul.

"Sis... you shouldn’t have come here," Lucas muttered with a sigh, concern creeping into his voice.

Charlotte gave him a smirk, then rolled her eyes.

"It was because of my stupid little brother worrying about his sister—that’s why I’m here."

Lucas let out a defeated sigh. He couldn’t argue with her. After all, Charlotte Graves, age 15, was only a year older, but her presence was commanding. Stubborn and skilled—she always did what she thought was right.

Then, the newly arrived referee, standing tall with a whistle around his neck and a clipboard in hand, barked out sharply:

"Back to your positions! Ordinary’s ball"

The players blinked in confusion.

"Ordinary?" Lucas echoed, furrowing his brows.

Charlotte nodded slowly, brushing hair behind her ear.

"It looks like... that’s what they’re calling our team."

"Ordinary?" Louie snapped, offended. "They call us ordinary when our team is filled with talents?"

Ethan, standing at the top of the key, exhaled quietly. He rubbed his temples, letting the noise die out around him. Then, slowly, he turned to face the Venganza team.

"(An enhanced player... they really are troublesome. Tsk. I wonder... if there are side effects.)"

His eyes narrowed, analyzing their movements, the way they breathed, the strange aggression in their eyes.

FWEEEEET!!

The referee’s whistle cut through his thoughts like a blade.

"What are you doing?! Hurry up unless you want a violation!"

The court fell silent but tense, every player stiff like coiled springs.

Louie took the ball with a scowl and inbounded it to Ethan, his pass crisp and fast.

Ethan caught it mid-stride and immediately began dribbling up the court, his eyes locked on the approaching defenders.

Up ahead stood Vin Cruz, captain of Venganza. A teen with slicked-back hair and a lean frame, yet there was something dangerous in the way he moved—like a predator on the prowl.

Vin’s eyes met Ethan’s, and a sly grin curled on his lips.

"Hoh... You look like you’re going to kill me... such instinct."

Ethan said nothing. His face was stone, his eyes sharp. He stayed focused, dribbling closer with calm control.

Then—hesi dribble.

A lightning-quick hesitation move. Ethan’s body jolted slightly, baiting Vin forward.

Vin bit. For a split second, he lunged.

Ethan blew past him.

But then... Vin grinned.

Like it was all part of the plan.

Ahead, Dante Cruz, Vin’s younger brother and the Power Forward of Venganza, was already waiting. He wasn’t just tall and strong—he was a Vision Specialist, always seeing two moves ahead.

Ethan froze for a half-second mid-dribble as Dante stepped into his path, arms spread wide.

"(Shit... he made me think I baited him... they baited me!)"

Behind him, Lucas saw it all unfold—the illusion, the trap, the collapse of momentum.

He slammed his fist into his palm, jaw clenched.

"Damn it! That was a setup from the start!"

Meanwhile Noah’s eyes narrowed from the bench, his body leaning forward slightly, muscles tight with frustration.

"(They... they’re coordinated. Every move calculated. Like they’ve done this a thousand times.)"

Venganza wasn’t just powerful, they were orchestrated chaos. Predators on a court without a cage.

...

Back on the court

"(Shit—he wanted me to do that!)," Ethan realized, too late.

Vin’s speed was explosive. His body snapped back into motion, a blur of muscle and instinct.

With a sudden lunge, he knocked the ball clean out of Ethan’s hands.

"Shit," Ethan hissed under his breath, skidding slightly as his balance broke.

Vin, now in control, spun with the ball, starting a deadly fastbreak—

"Let’s end this quick," he murmured, already looking ahead for his teammates.

But he never saw Lucas Graves coming.

A flash of motion behind him—calculated, calm, lethal.

"What—?" Vin’s voice faltered.

Lucas’ golden eyes gleamed under the harsh gym lights, locked onto the ball like a hawk mid-dive.

He wasn’t guessing. He knew what Vin would do.

This was Absolute Mimicry in action.

A flicker of the past surged in his muscles.

Philadelphia. 1999.

Allen Iverson—ten steals in a single playoff game.

Lucas had studied that game frame by frame.

And now, he lived it.

He shifted his stance ever so slightly—just like Iverson. Feet staggered, hand twitching like a trap.

As Vin tried to pivot away—

SLAP!

Lucas’ hand struck. Lightning-fast. Perfect angle. Perfect timing.

The ball popped free.

Vin’s smirk died on his lips.

"Tch—this kid...!"

Lucas didn’t even stop. He spun on the balls of his feet, his body moving like water around a rock, gathering the ball in motion and already racing forward.

Ethan blinked, startled by the reversal, then burst into motion beside Lucas, sprinting to catch up.

Their feet thundered against the floor in sync.

For a brief second, their eyes met in the chaos.

Lucas grinned sideways.

"Next time, don’t fall for the bait, captain."

Ethan huffed, smirking despite himself.

"Then cover me next time, mimic boy."

Lucas grinned back.

"Yeah!!"

He surged forward, dribbling fast. His feet danced across the court, sneakers thudding against polished wood as Ethan sprinted right behind him.

But speed wasn’t on their side alone.

From the side—

A blur of movement.

"Not on my watch!"

Kaia Volt had arrived.

Venganza’s Shooting Guard. Nicknamed Speed Demon for a reason.

She closed the distance on Lucas with terrifying velocity.

Lucas’ eyes widened.

"(She’s fast...!)"

Then something... shifted.

Kaia’s grin stretched wide. Her pupils dilated. A twisted glee broke through her voice.

"Play! Let’s play!!!!"

It wasn’t Kaia anymore.

It was Zaia, her other personality—the unhinged child within the blur of lightning.

Lucas thought, "(Her personality change? and... she’s fast.)"

But he wasn’t backing down.

He remembered the footage.

May 13, 1999. Allen Iverson.

Crossover after crossover, shaking defenders out of their shoes.

Lucas’ body mirrored Iverson’s iconic cross— a snatch so sharp it nearly dislocated time.

Zaia gasped, her legs stumbling just slightly.

"You’re GOOD!!! Let’s play play play!!!"

But even with her erratic movements, Zaia wasn’t down yet. She kept up—matching Lucas beat for beat.

Still...

Lucas dug deep.

He burst forward with Iverson’s copied iconic burst of speed.

It was clean. Beautiful. Violent on the joints.

But there was a cost.

Lucas winced.

"(Tsk... That took more out of me than I thought. I can only use that speed twice.)"

He slipped past Zaia—

Only to be met with a wall.

Silas Korrin.

Venganza’s Center / Paint Protector, now stepping in.

His build was monstrous. Shoulders like concrete, arms wide, and his eyes locked onto Lucas.

"THANKS, KAIA!!" Silas roared.

"NOT ON MY WATCH!!"

Lucas’ steps faltered for a heartbeat.

But then—

A voice behind him, calm but blazing:

Ethan smirked.

"Show them who you are, Lucas."

Lucas clenched his jaw.

This was it.

He didn’t go for the usual drive.

Instead—he twisted mid-air, body folding like water around a stone.

A reverse layup.

The ball kissed the glass.

BOOM. Basket.

The sound echoed like a gunshot through a silent warzone. For a split second—time froze.

Then—

Ethan jogged toward Lucas, a grin tugging at the edge of his face.

No words were needed at first.

Their palms slapped together, a clean high-five that cracked louder than the scoreboard buzzer.

"Nice finish," Ethan muttered, eyes sharp.

Lucas grinned, catching his breath.

"Always."

No celebration. No flex.

Just mutual respect.

They turned in unison, jogging back to their court, heads held high.

Together, they ran—shoulders aligned, sweat trailing behind them like ghostly echoes.

For a moment, they weren’t two players.

They were warriors.

The crowd didn’t cheer—because there was no crowd.

But the roar—it was still there.

It came from within.

In their hearts that pounding like drums.

And This .... This what you called basketball—passion, real, and burning with the fire of something greater.

....

Meanwhile, inside the Control Room—

Nine monitors cast a pale blue glow across the dark room, illuminating the faces of the higher-ups watching the chaos unfold.

At the center of it all: the big screen. It showed Ethan and Lucas retreating to their side of the court, heads held high after that slick reverse layup.

On Monitor 3, a man in his 40s leaned forward with a wide grin, eyes twinkling behind thin-framed glasses.

"Ahahahaha! Now this is what we call entertainment!" Drew laughed, his voice echoing through the speakers like a circus ringleader hyped up on adrenaline.

On Monitor 5, a stern 50-year-old woman crossed her arms, her lips tight, clearly unimpressed.

"Shut up, Drew."

Drew scoffed, brushing her off like lint on his suit jacket. freēwēbnovel.com

"You should drink some supplements or something. You’re one outburst away from a heart attack, Highblood Queen."

"What did you just say?" she growled, leaning toward her camera.

Before it could escalate further, a deep voice from Monitor 1 cut through the tension like steel through silk.

"Quiet. Both of you."

Everyone paused. Even the buzzing machines in the room seemed to hush.

The old man leaned back into the shadows of his chair, only the glow of the monitor catching his steepled fingers and sharp eyes as they studied the screen.

His gaze narrowed at the duo running back on defense.

"(These two kids... They’re troublesome. In the world of basketball, they’ll be thorns in everyone’s side if left unchecked.)"

Meanwhile, off to the side in the same control room—

Greg stood stiffly, arms behind his back, watching the feed with a clenched jaw. The cheers from the court didn’t reach this room, but the tension was just as loud.

He stole a glance toward the far wall—toward the 9 glowing monitors and the array of cold eyes judging every frame.

Then back to the main screen.

Ethan.

Lucas.

"(Tsk... That must’ve been luck. No way they can defeat my masterpiece. My Venganza team...)"

..

Meanwhile

Score: 1 - 1.

Ordinary vs. Venganza.

The tension was building. The court was alive. The crowd? Breathless.

As Ethan and Lucas jogged back toward their teammates, the energy around them was shifting.

Louie stood near the three-point line, watching the duo with narrowed eyes. His fists clenched at his sides.

"(Tch... I could’ve done that too...)"

He didn’t mean to be bitter, but the way Ethan had grinned at Lucas... That look of pride. The connection.

Louie felt a sting of jealousy.

"(He impressed Ethan... before I could.)"

On the sideline, Evan’s usual cool composure broke into a small grin. His eyes followed Ethan and Lucas.

"We’ve got a real shot at this game," Evan said aloud, mostly to himself.

Charlotte walked to her spot near the arc, stealing a look at her younger brother as he approached with a smug grin on his face.

"Did you see my moves?" Lucas said, practically bouncing with excitement.

Charlotte rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the soft tug at the corners of her lips.

"Yeah, yeah. I saw."

Lucas smiled even wider, teeth flashing like he’d just won a prize.

"Told you I could play."

Charlotte crossed her arms. "You might be good..." she said, raising a brow,

"...but that’s not enough to win."

Lucas blinked, then laughed sheepishly. "Right... still got a long way to go."

Ethan watched the sibling exchange with a quiet smile, the kind that hid a sigh underneath. There was no time to relax.

He turned to face the court, his gaze locked in on the Venganza team gathering on the other side. The wind seemed to still for just a second.

Then Ethan raised his voice.

"Let’s do this—everyone!"

A chorus followed in response:

"Hai!!!"

The Ordinary roared.

Their voices rang through the gym, louder than the scoreboard, louder than the Venganza stares.

This was more than just a tie.

It was a warning shot.

To be continue