Extra Basket

The gym buzzed with energy as the announcer's voice echoed through the speakers, recapping the brackets and upcoming matches.

Ethan leaned back on the bench, sweat still clinging to his skin from their semi-final victory. The realization was slowly sinking in—they'd made it. Out of dozens of teams, only four remained.

🏀 Local Trials (Qualifiers)

All teams in the same city or district compete. Only the best 2 teams move forward.

🌍 Division Cup (Regional Tournament)

The qualified teams are grouped into 4 regions (North, South, East, West). They play against other top teams in their region. Top 4 from each region advance → total of 16 teams.

🏆 National Sweet 16 (Knockout Stage)

16 teams play in a single-elimination format (lose once = out).

Round of 16 → Quarterfinals → Semifinals → Finals.

🌟 Grand Arena (National Championship)

The Final 4 teams get to play in a massive arena with live broadcasts. Scouts from colleges and even pro teams watch closely.

E than stood up, looking at the tournament board as the crew prepared to reveal the final match-ups. The lights from the massive screen reflected off his determined eyes.

"Now we're in the finals…" he muttered, voice low but firm. "But there are still three teams left. We've got no choice but to fight one more team to reach the final-final."

Lucas crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow with his usual calm composure. "Well… who's the team we're gonna fight?"

Ethan shook his head. "I don't know. It's still not announced yet."

Louie cracked his knuckles, grinning wide like a kid about to open a gift. "Well, whatever team it is… we're gonna beat them."

The bench erupted into chatter.

Ryan leaned back on his seat, smirking. "As long as they don't have any cute managers, I'll stay focused."

"Dude, seriously?" Aiden shot him a look.

Brandon just sighed, towering silently like a guardian next to his best friend, keeping him in check.

Coonie rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah, Mr. Playboy's already thinking about interviews instead of defense."

Jeremy chuckled. "At least he's consistent."

Kai pumped his fist. "Come on, guys! Whoever it is, we'll crush them together!"

Amid the noise, Coach Mason stood a few steps back, arms crossed, watching the team with an expression that mixed pride and lingering insecurity. His eyes fell on Ethan. For a moment, the coach hesitated but then, Ethan turned toward him and nodded firmly. It was subtle, but it said everything: "I've got this. We've got this."

Coach Mason cleared his throat. "Alright, settle down!" His voice carried a rare hint of authority. "The final match-up announcement is tomorrow. We'll find out who we're facing then."

Ethan stepped forward, hands on his hips. "We're gonna watch the game between the Chicago Raptors and The Gods tomorrow. Study their plays. Learn their rhythm." His gaze swept across the team serious, unwavering. "But for now… let's practice."

There was a collective nod. The joking atmosphere faded as their competitive fire reignited.

Meanwhile as the sun hadn't fully risen yet, but inside the colossal steel-and-glass gym, the lights blazed like it was midday.

A massive golden mural of Zeus dunking over a crowd of faceless defenders dominated the far wall. Polished maple floors reflected the light like a mirror, and the faint echo of bouncing basketballs reverberated like war drums.

Five figures stood at center court, The Gods, the team everyone whispered about.

They didn't just play basketball.

They defined it.

"Start."

The single word came from Zeus, real name Adrian Holt, standing at the free throw line with arms crossed over his broad chest. His 6'5" frame radiated control. His electric-blue eyes scanned the court like a king surveying his kingdom.

The moment he spoke, the gym came alive.

….

Poseidon's Flow

Kai Nakamura (Poseidon), the point guard stepped up first. His deep blue hair glistened with a slight sheen of sweat under the lights. He crouched low, fingertips barely brushing the ball.

Thump. Thump-thump.

His dribble began smooth and measured… then accelerated into something else entirely.

The ball flowed between his hands like water slipping through cracks, crossovers, behind-the-backs, inside-outs, snatches, hesitations. His defenders were two hired college-level players, brought in just to challenge him.

They couldn't even get close.

"He's not dribbling," one of them muttered under his breath. "He's… dancing."

Kai slid sideways, body fluid as the tide, then suddenly surged forward like a wave crashing over rocks. His eyes locked on the rim, then snapped sideways at the last second.

"Tsunami Pass."

The ball whipped across the court not in a straight line, but curving midair, bending around the defender's outstretched arm like liquid. It hit Marcus Reid (Ares) right in the chest. No adjustment needed.

"Perfect as always," Marcus grunted, spinning and slamming the ball into the hoop with a violent BOOM that made the backboard shudder.

…

Ares' Warpath

Marcus stepped into the post. His fiery red hair clung to his forehead as he banged his fists together like a warrior preparing for battle.

"Clear it out." His voice was gravel and fire.

The defenders a pair of muscular big men tightened their stances. They had no idea what was about to hit them.

Marcus caught the entry pass, lowered his shoulder, and exploded.

His first step was like a battering ram. His second step sent the defender stumbling backward. By the third, Marcus had carved out space like a tank through mud.

"Warpath."

He pivoted hard, his back muscles rippling as he rose through heavy contact. A defender smacked his forearm nothing. Marcus hammered the dunk home, the rim bending as he hung for a moment, eyes blazing.

"Is that all?" he barked, slapping the ball away when they tried to strip it.

He didn't stop. Over and over, he punished them—hooks, drop steps, reverse pivots. He didn't need finesse. He had unrelenting power.

Sweat soaked his shirt, but his grin only widened.

This was his battlefield.

Hades' Shadows

While Marcus waged war in the paint, a quiet presence moved to the wing.

Dante Vasquez Hades stood there, hands loose, crimson eyes fixed on his prey. His lean, wiry frame barely seemed threatening. But the moment the defenders shifted their attention, he vanished.

One second he was in the corner.

The next, the ball handler turned to find him standing in the passing lane, fingers on the ball like he had been there all along.

Shadow Step.

"What the—?!" the point guard yelped as Dante stripped him clean without a sound, gliding down the court like a wraith. No celebration. No words. Just movement.

At the free-throw line, he slowed, turned his back to the defender chasing him, and rose into a Phantom Shot a high, floating fadeaway.

Swish.

Nothing but net.

Dante didn't look back. He just drifted back on defense, expression blank.

Next play, his Death Grip activated. The opposing shooting guard tried to drive, crossover, step back—nothing worked. Dante's footwork was eerily silent, every move anticipated. The guard hesitated once… and that was enough. Dante's hand was there, snuffing the ball like a candle.

"Creepy," the guard whispered.

Dante's crimson eyes narrowed. "Graves are quiet too."

…

Chronos' Control

At center court, Lucien Weiss (Chronos) stepped in. His silver hair shimmered under the lights, golden eyes half-lidded like he was bored. At seven feet tall, he didn't even need to jump high.

"Incoming." Kai sent a lob his way.

Lucien didn't leap, he merely rose, timed perfectly, and caught it midair as if he had known the ball's trajectory hours in advance. Two defenders went up with him. He twisted slightly, letting them collide with each other, and softly laid the ball in.

Future Sight.

Slowed Perception.

When an opposing guard tried to test him with a floater, Lucien didn't even move until the last possible second. His arm extended like a clock's hand ticking forward—Eternal Block. The ball was swatted away like it had never existed.

To Lucien, basketball was not about reaction.

It was preordained.

…

Zeus' Kingdom

Then came the King.

Adrian Holt (Zeus) stepped onto the court, tossing the ball up and catching it with lazy elegance. His presence alone made the defenders stiffen. The very air grew heavier.

He took one dribble.

BANG.

The floor seemed to shake.

He crossed over once smooth, simple. The defender bit, despite knowing he shouldn't. Adrian didn't even look at the rim as he stepped back to the three-point line.

"Go in."

The ball left his fingers with a perfect arc. The defender lunged. Too late. The shot hit nothing but net.

He jogged back, no celebration, just absolute certainty.

Next possession, he faced two defenders. He stared at the paint.

"There's a path."

And suddenly, there was.

His body moved with terrifying decisiveness, splitting the double team with one step as if reality itself bent to his will. A euro-step. A dunk. Thunder.

"He's not playing," one college defender panted. "He's… commanding."

"Exactly," Adrian replied, electric eyes narrowing. "This is my court."

Every pass he made landed exactly where it needed to. His teammates moved sharper, faster like puppets under his domain. King's Domain radiated out, making The Gods feel like an unbreakable machine.

Between the Lines

The drill lasted for hours.

Sweat dripped like rain. The sound of sneakers squealing and balls thumping became a symphony of dominance. Not a single word was wasted. Every play, every movement, was precise, intentional, and overwhelming.

College players left exhausted and demoralized. They were supposed to be sparring partners. Instead, they had become witnesses.

At the end, Zeus gathered the team at half court.

"Where is our secret weapon?"

Lucien asked, his voice calm as ever.

Adrian turned his head slightly, gaze distant. "He's not here yet."

Dante's crimson eyes flicked sideways. "When he arrives… this kingdom will be complete."

Kai wiped sweat from his forehead, breathing evenly despite the hours of play. "The tides are already shifting."

Marcus slammed the ball against the floor, fire in his eyes. "Let them come. I'll crush anyone who stands in our way."

Adrian finally smiled a slow, confident smile that sent chills down spines. He raised his arm, fingers curled like lightning itself.

"The Grand Arena is our throne."

His voice echoed across the vast gym.

"And when we step on that court… there will be no gods but us."

The ball struck the floor one last time.

THUMP.

Outside, dawn finally broke. But inside Olympus, The Gods had already awakened.

To be continue