Extra Basket

The storm of cheers from the arena echoed like thunder, but on the Chicago Raptors' bench, a different storm brewed silent, heavy, pressing.

Coach Jenkins stood with his clipboard pressed to his chest. Under the arena lights, the sweat on his forehead glistened like cold dew. His breathing wasn't steady. His eyes weren't on the court… they were on the Gods.

His fingers twitched.

Crack.

The plastic edge of the clipboard split slightly under his grip.

He hadn't even noticed.

Around him, the young Raptors were stretching, tightening their shoelaces, breathing slowly to control their excitement. But Jenkins… Jenkins' hands were shaking.

He had seen many prodigies.

Many monsters in youth basketball.

But this… this was something else.

He called out, voice barely more than a whisper coarse, as if it had scraped against fear on the way out.

"...Jalen."

The name cut through the noise.

Jalen Carter turned.

Calm steps. No rush. His aura didn't flare, it simply existed, heavy and controlled, like a king choosing not to draw his blade yet.

Coach Jenkins met his eyes… and for a moment, he hesitated.

(This kid… is still only fifteen. I'm supposed to guide them… supposed to protect them from pressure like this.)

(But look at this arena… look at those monsters across from us… I can't lie to them–)

He swallowed, his voice low and trembling with honesty that felt almost too raw to speak in front of his players.

"I hate to admit it…"

His eyes flicked toward Zeus standing across the court, surrounded by his team of gods like a divine court.

"They're too strong… and I'm… scared."

The words landed like a confession.

Some of the players nearby flinched, instinctively looking at their coach the pillar of their team hearing him name his fear.

Jalen's brows shifted. Not in disappointment. Not in confusion.

In understanding.

"Coach?" he said, not with doubt… but with clarity, as if urging him to continue.

Coach Jenkins let out a deep exhale… like expelling the fear from his lungs.

Then slowly despite the tremor still in his fingers, he forced a smile.

Not a confident one. A determined one.

He stepped forward, eyes locking onto Jalen's like steel meeting fire.

"…But."

The word cut through the tension sharply.

"I trust you."

His voice gained strength.

"I trust our team."

His hand, the one clutching the clipboard, slowly relaxed letting the cracked plastic rest at his side.

He spoke through clenched teeth, fear still present… but no longer in control.

"We won't go down that easily."

The players behind him straightened subconsciously. A few fists clenched. Shoulders rose.

Jalen looked at his coach really looked and something humble yet fierce flickered in his eyes.

Slowly… he closed his own hand into a fist, knuckles tightening.

He didn't shout. He didn't pose.

He just spoke, calm, steady like a king confirming a sentence.

"…Coach."

Jenkins held his breath.

"I'm going to win this."

Time stilled for just a second.

Then the arena roared again but for Chicago Raptors, a different fire had already been lit.

The arena lights cut down like divine spotlights.

Each step onto the polished floor sounded like a war drum.

Chicago Raptors walked in.

Thunder in their footsteps silent, heavy, felt in the chest more than heard.

Then… the air changed.

From the opposite tunnel, the team known as The Gods emerged.

They didn't walk like players.

They advanced like entities, like this court was built for them, like the floor existed because they stepped on it.

The crowd roared.

But in the middle of that noise, there was silence.

Because two people had locked eyes.

Jalen Carter stood at the center circle.

Hands behind his back. Posture straight. Face unreadable.

Across from him, Zeus approached, each step calculated not rushed, not lazy.

His presence was like a throne lowered into a battlefield.

They stopped six feet apart.

The world around them blurred.

Wind pressure formed between them even without motion.

Both teams slowed, watching because this wasn't just a match opening.

This was a declaration.

Jalen exhaled slowly, aura condensing behind him like a storm trying not to form.

He spoke not loud, not arrogant just absolute.

"I am Jalen."

Not nice to meet you.

Not I'll show you.

Just I am here.

Zeus didn't blink.

He looked at Jalen

Not like a rival.

Not like a warrior.

Like a king looking at an insect that thought it was a comet.

He didn't speak.

He tilted his chin slightly, as if even acknowledging the introduction was beneath him.

The air between them cracked like glass.

Suddenly—

BOOM.

A pressure wave burst outward.

Both benches stiffened as the court trembled for a split heartbeat.

No one moved.

But every soul in that arena felt it.

Two kings stood at center court.

One already crowned.

One coming for the throne.

Referee stepped forward, clearly shaken but doing his duty.

His hand lifted the ball.

Jalen didn't even look at it.

His eyes… never left Zeus.

Zeus gave the slightest smirk, the kind that said

"This court was mine before you learned to walk."

Jalen's pulse stayed steady.

(Then watch closely… as I take it from you.)

The referee tossed the ball upward.

But it didn't feel like a simple throw.

No

It felt like a Heavenly Decree launched into the air, deciding which kingdom would stand… and which one would kneel.

Jalen didn't bend his knees in a rush like rookies do.

He stood perfectly still until the last millisecond, eyes locked on Zeus not on the ball.

Zeus… didn't even bother adjusting his stance. His posture was regal, mocking in its ease.

As if the ball would bow to him on its own.

BAM—

Aura ignited.

Jalen's aura:

Sharp. Lightning-like. A blade forged from pure will, cutting upward through gravity.

Zeus' aura:

Heavy. Sovereign. A golden pressure that didn't rise, it expanded, declaring all space above as already his territory.

The court cracked beneath their feet.

Spectators leaned forward without meaning to.

Inner Worlds Collide

Jalen (thought): (This time… I don't care about talent. I don't care about destiny. I will drag you down from that throne with my own hands.)

Zeus (thought): (A cub with ambition are amusing. Very well. Entertain me… while you still breathe.)

JUMP.

The floor snapped under their launch dust flicked up like explosions.

Both kings rose.

Time stretched.

Every heartbeat in the arena slowed. Fans had their mouths open, frozen mid-cheer.

Jalen's right hand extended like a spear.

His vertical leap felt inhuman, like gravity allowed him passage only because he forced it to.

Zeus didn't reach.

He ascended. The air parted for him like subjects kneeling before royalty.

The ball reached peak height…

And there, their fingertips touched it together.

Impact

CRACKKKKK—

A shockwave rippled from the contact point, scattering dust across the polished floor.

The referee stumbled back. Some players instinctively shielded their eyes.

It wasn't a tip-off.

It was a collision between two realities one that ruled… and one that refused to be ruled.

Jalen's fingers curved, redirecting the ball with force not upward, but forward, a direct aggressive push, a declaration of war.

Zeus' eyes narrowed.

For the first time…

He exerted real force.

Their auras flared gold vs white lightning, swirling in a cyclone above the court.

The ball finally broke free launched toward Tyrese.

Raptors possession.

The whistle officially blew.

And just like that… Chicago Raptors vs The Gods had begun.

To be continue