Extra Basket-Chapter 71 - 58: White (14)

The game clock ticked on, but the score remained a tense 1-1. The battle on the court was far from over. Each player was feeling the weight of the game.

Vin Cruz, the captain of Venganza, stood tall and poised. His lean frame and slicked-back hair gave him the appearance of a player who had seen it all. His presence alone was enough to command attention.

He glanced around at his team, their eyes all focused on him.

Zeke Monroe (Small Forward / Lockdown Wing), tall and imposing, stood with a quiet intensity.

Dante Cruz (Power Forward / Vision Specialist), always calm, was ready to act when needed.

Silas Korrin (Center / Paint Protector), a mountain of muscle, wasn’t one to be easily moved.

And then, Kaia Volt (Shooting Guard / Speed Threat), her eyes were electric with energy. A loose cannon, but undeniably dangerous.

Vin nodded.

With a sharp whistle from the referee, the game resumed.

Vin turned to his teammates and spoke, his voice cold yet commanding.

"No more mercy."

Each player nodded in response, their faces hardening with determination.

"Roger!"

The ball was inbounded to Dante, who passed it directly to Vin. With a swift dribble, Vin surveyed the court, sizing up his opponents.

Ethan was already there, guarding him, staying close. Vin smirked.

"Heh," he muttered under his breath, almost taunting.

Ethan, sensing the challenge, squared up, his stance steady. But Vin was quicker. With a lightning-fast fake crossover, he feinted right, and Ethan didn’t bite.

For a moment, it seemed like Ethan had won the battle of wits, but then Vin’s drive to the basket accelerated, leaving Ethan trying to catch up. A screen from Kaia came out of nowhere, forcing Ethan to stumble as he tried to react. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

"Tsk," Ethan cursed, pushing against the screen, but the gap between him and Vin was widening.

Vin saw the opening. With a glance over his shoulder, he saw Lucas and Charlotte closing in, both attempting to block his shot.

But Vin was in his element, his confidence unwavering.

"Bye," he muttered, his voice dripping with arrogance.

He leaped.

As he soared through the air, the crowd seemed to hold its breath, watching as the ball left his hands.

The shot was high, almost like it could have been slow-motion, but Lucas and Charlotte could only watch helplessly as the ball arced towards the hoop.

For a moment, it seemed like time stopped.

Then, with a soft swish, the ball dropped through the net.

2-1 in favor of Venganza.

Vin landed smoothly, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he faced the Ordinary team.

.....

Ethan glanced at the scoreboard. The score was now 2-1, with only 3 minutes left in the 1st quarter.

His mind raced. "(So that’s how it is, huh? Just a 1-point lead.)"

But his thoughts were interrupted by Louie’s loud exclamation from the sideline.

Louie threw his hands up in frustration, his voice carrying across the court. "What the fuck?! Why is the score only one point?!"

Lucas, standing next to Louie, nodded in understanding. "I think 2 points, 1 point, and 3 points is just 2 points in this game."

Evan, standing by with a resigned look, sighed heavily. "They’re too good. Too good at making things strange..."

Charlotte, ever observant, turned her gaze to Ethan. She could tell he was in deep thought, his mind whirring with calculations. She walked over to him, her voice laced with concern. "Ethan. Ethan!"

Ethan snapped out of his thoughts and met Charlotte’s gaze.

"Are you okay?" Charlotte asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

Ethan nodded, but there was a flicker of frustration in his eyes. "I’m okay... It’s just that, why did they do this 1-point and 2-point thing?"

Charlotte glanced at the scoreboard and shrugged. "Maybe it’s just like those streetball games or something. You know, they don’t always play by the book."

Ethan’s eyes moved toward Louie, who was still fuming on the sideline.

Louie, catching Ethan’s gaze, grinned sheepishly. "I’m a streetballer, man, but even in streetball, it’s usually 2 points for regular shots and 3 points for the downtown stuff. This is some weird-ass rule."

Ethan let out a quiet sigh as he watched the play unfold. His mind was still on the game, but the strange scoring system was throwing him off. "(Why’d they change the scoreboard like that? I hope it’s nothing to worry about...)"

Suddenly, the referee’s whistle cut through the air, sharp and demanding.

"What are you talking about?! Get back in the game!"

Ethan snapped his attention back to the court, shaking his head to clear away any lingering doubts. There was no time for distractions now.

With a determined look in his eyes, Ethan quickly jogged back toward his position, ready to face whatever the game threw his way. The Ordinary team still had a shot at this. And no matter how strange the rules, Ethan knew they had to keep pushing forward.

Meanwhile Noah White, sitting on the bench, couldn’t help but clench his fist tightly. His nerves were on edge, his heart pounding with every dribble, every pass, every move his teammates made on the court. He wanted to be out there, making the plays himself, contributing to the fight. But deep down, he knew Ethan had a plan for him. He trusted that Ethan knew when to bring him in, and he had to wait for his moment.

Noah whispered under his breath, his eyes focused on the game. "I hope we win..."

It wasn’t just about the victory. It was about proving to himself and everyone else that they could pull through—Ethan, Lucas, and everyone else on the team. They had come so far, and Noah wasn’t about to let the pressure get to him. His role was important, even if it wasn’t right now.

With every passing second, the intensity on the court grew, and Noah’s focus sharpened. He just had to trust Ethan’s judgment.

,,,,,,,,

Ethan now had the ball.

He took a deep breath as he crossed the half-court line, his eyes scanning the enemy team—Venganza.

"(Think... think... think...)"

His thoughts raced as he gripped the ball tightly, sweat forming on his brow. Each step was deliberate. He was trying to read the formation, to see where the cracks were in their ironclad defense.

But before he could make his move—

Vin Cruz, captain of Venganza, slid in front of him like a phantom, smirk plastered across his face.

"Seems like your mind is full." Vin said, voice cool and cocky, almost like he could read Ethan’s thoughts.

Ethan didn’t answer.

Instead, with sharp control, he faked a drive to the left, planting hard, selling it like he was about to take off—

Then, in one swift motion, he crossed over to the right, the ball snapping with a clean bounce.

Vin’s eyebrow lifted slightly. "Not bad," he muttered. "But..."

"You’re forgetting someone."

Ethan’s eyes widened. "What?"

Suddenly—a blur.

Kaia Volt—the Speed Threat—had somehow appeared behind him, like a ghost phasing through shadows.

"Hiik.. No- No-Not on my watch," she stuttering under her breath, hands already reaching for the ball.

"Shit—!" Ethan gasped, spinning slightly as he felt the pressure on the ball.

Her fingers brushed the leather.

But Ethan reacted—instinctively tipping the ball away, sending it spinning off the side and out of bounds.

WHISTLE!

The referee raised his hand. Venganza ball.

Ethan stood frozen for a second, staring at where Kaia had come from.

"(How did I not see her...? Wait... who was guarding her?)"

He turned his head sharply—Charlotte.

Charlotte was already moving toward him, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"I’m sorry," she said. "I—she was just there. One second I saw her, and the next... she vanished."

Louie scoffed from nearby. "Admit it, you can’t guard her."

Charlotte turned her head sharply toward him. "You!"

Before she could lunge, Lucas stepped in, one hand raised calmly.

"Sis."

His voice was firm but calm, the tension between the two easing ever so slightly as Charlotte gritted her teeth and looked away.

Kaia, standing with her back turned at the sideline, let out a giggle, her eyes flickering between playful and predatory.

She whispered to herself, "Heehee... let’s play again soon.

The referee, unfazed, bounced the ball toward her. Kaia snatched it cleanly and inbounded it without hesitation—

A sharp pass to Zeke Monroe.

Zeke caught it effortlessly, letting it hang in one hand as he walked forward with slow swagger. His face was unreadable at first... but then a wide, mocking grin spread across it.

His eyes locked with Louie, who was already stepping up to guard him.

"Since I can’t foul you all..." Zeke said, voice slick with arrogance,

"...I might as well play with you."

Louie didn’t say a word at first, but his eyes narrowed, his stance tightening.

Zeke tilted his head. "I know what you are..."

Louie finally spoke. "Oh yeah? How?"

Zeke chuckled, spinning the ball on his finger, then dropping it to the floor in a low bounce between his legs.

"A streetballer recognizes a streetballer."

That hit.

Louie’s expression didn’t flinch, but his energy shifted. The air between them sparked like live wires.

Zeke’s grin widened.

"Try to stop this!!"

Suddenly—boom—Zeke launched into movement, raw, chaotic, and stylish.

No fundamentals. No rules. Pure streetball.

He juked right, dropped his shoulder, double-crossed left, flicked the ball behind his back,

then spun—

—All in one fluid motion.

The crowd gasped. Even the Venganza bench leaned forward.

Louie matched the first two steps. "C’mon... is that all?" he said.

But Zeke was just warming up.

He slammed the ball hard into the ground, then hooked it around his back again, faking like he’d drive—

Louie bit slightly, shifting to block—

But Zeke spun again, lightning-quick, now completely behind Louie.

"Tch—!" Louie grunted, trying to recover.

Zeke drove forward, nearing the paint—then suddenly jumped for a mid-range shot.

Lucas jumped to contest.

Zeke released it—clean.

Swish.

Score: 3-1.

Zeke landed and turned slowly, flashing a confident grin at Louie.

"Street’s not enough to beat me."

Louie clenched his jaw.

....

Meanwhile, in the Control Room...

The atmosphere was dim, screens flickering blue light across the room. The 9 towering monitors, each showing a shadowed figure—the higher-ups—watched in silence as the game played out.

Greg sat at the center console, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, lips curled into a grin. His eyes weren’t just watching the game—they were fixed specifically on Zeke Monroe.

Zeke had just made that shot, walking away with his usual smirk. But Greg... he knew the truth behind that smirk. Behind that game.

He leaned back in his chair, a nostalgic smirk creeping across his face.

"Five months ago..."

...

Flashback – 5 months earlier

A dusty outdoor court under the late afternoon sun.

Zeke, thinner, with a messy afro and a quiet demeanor, dribbled on cracked pavement. No flash. No ego. Just work. Alone. Always alone.

His moves were clunky, not bad—but not great either.

He was just... normal.

Greg stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching silently behind tinted glasses. He had passed by chance. But something about Zeke’s relentless repetition, the sweat dripping from his face, the muttered self-talk—

It moved him.

"This kid... he’s not talented, but he’s hungry."

....

Back in the Control Room, Greg’s grin widened. His fingers tapped the console lightly.

"That was the moment I chose him..."

He stared at Zeke’s face on the screen.

"...for the experiment."

...

Another flashback — a cold lab room, weeks later.

Zeke, now a little bulkier, stood in front of Greg, shirt half-raised as a syringe glowed in sterile light.

Greg’s voice echoed as he held the vial in gloved hands.

"This pill? It’ll wake up something in you... or destroy you. But if you’re serious about being the best... take it."

Zeke didn’t hesitate. He took it without a word.

.....

Back to the present.

Greg’s grin darkened into something more twisted, proud.

"Now look at you, Zeke."

One of the higher-ups spoke through the monitor.

"You injected the streetballer, didn’t you?"

Greg didn’t answer, just gave a light laugh.

"That’s my masterpiece out there."

He looked at the scoreboard.

3-1.

His eyes gleamed.

"Let’s see how long they can survive."

To be continue