Extra Basket

SCORE: GODS — 80 | RAPTORS — 39

TIME: 4th Quarter — 10:00

The whistle blew, sharp and clear.

Like thunder answering thunder.

Zeus rose from the bench first, his golden aura dimming to a steady glow, no longer rage,

but judgment.

The other Gods followed: Ares cracked his knuckles, Poseidon spun the ball once, letting water trace its seams, and Hades smiled like he already knew the ending.

Across the court, Jalen Carter stood tall again.

No lightning. No glow. Just breath.

Heavy, human breath.

Coach Jenkins didn't call another play. He didn't need to.

Every player on the Raptors knew: this wasn't about victory anymore. It was about defiance.

9:40 – Tip-Off

Zeus flicked his wrist.

The ball didn't bounce it boomed, echoing across the gym.

Jalen darted in, reading the angle perfectly, stealing it mid-bounce.

"Let's move!" he shouted.

He cut left, then vanished right

A move born not from talent, but desperation and will.

Poseidon slid in to intercept, but Malik set a brutal screen, colliding shoulder-to-chest, breaking the god's flow of motion.

Jalen spun—

Pulled up

Release.

Perfect arc.

Swoosh.

SCORE: GODS — 80 | RAPTORS — 41

The crowd erupted not because it mattered, but because it did.

8:22 – Possession: GODS

Ares caught the inbound from Poseidon like a cannon receiving fire. His every dribble rattled the hardwood deep, echoing, primal. Each bounce was a declaration: This court belongs to war.

Zion stepped up, planting himself dead in Ares' path. Sweat streaked down his temple, his arms trembling but locked firm. His eyes didn't waver.

"Not again."

Ares' grin widened, sharp as a blade. "Then break."

The next second, impact.

The collision wasn't just physical; it was seismic. Ares' shoulder dug in, driving like a battering ram. Zion slid half a step back, sneakers screaming against the wood. The crowd gasped everyone expected him to fold.

But he didn't.

Zion absorbed the blow, using his hips to anchor, his legs to coil the force. The moment Ares pulled his arm up for the signature War Slash Drive, Zion pivoted. His left foot hooked Ares' dominant leg, cutting off the lane.

Ares lost his balance mid-lift. The power was therebut the control was gone. The shot went up awkward, spinning off his fingertips with too much force.

CLANG!

The ball hit the rim wild, chaotic and bounced high.

Rebound — Tyrese!

He ripped it out of mid-air, chest heaving, eyes scanning forward.

"Go! Go!" Coach Jenkins yelled.

Tyrese pushed the break two hard dribbles, perfect rhythm. The court opened like a split sea. Ahead Kobe Morales, sprinting full-speed down the right lane.

The pass came laser straight. Kobe caught it mid-stride, every muscle firing. The air rushed past his ears heart pounding louder than the crowd.

Poseidon shifted to contest, waves of blue aura swelling around his frame—

But Kobe didn't hesitate.

He took off.

The world slowed. His body twisted mid-air, one, two rotations.

Then BOOM!

Both hands crashed the ball through the rim. The entire backboard trembled under the weight of human fury.

SCORE: GODS — 80 | RAPTORS — 43

For a heartbeat, even the gods didn't move.

Then the sound hit, the crowd exploded.

Stomping. Screaming. A roar that felt alive.

From the bleachers, Ethan leaned forward, notebook open but forgotten. His pen hovered mid-air.

"Tempo shift," he muttered. "They're probing… the Gods are holding back. Testing human rhythm again."

Beside him, Lucas leaned back, smirking faintly. "And humans always break the rhythm."

Ethan's lips curved into a grin small, sharp.

"Unless," he said, "they start dancing to it."

6:45 – Possession: GODS

This time, Hades took command. The air cooled around him shadows pooling at his feet like ink spreading through water. His dribble was lazy, ghostly. Every step looked wrong, yet perfectly right. It wasn't basketball it was illusion.

Zion and Tyrese shifted, trying to predict his rhythm but Hades had none.

He walked through angles, body flowing like smoke.

Then in a blink Zeus appeared behind him.

No sound. No cue. Just presence.

Hades lobbed it backward without turning.

A silent alley-oop.

The next instant lightning crashed.

Zeus rose from behind the rim like judgment itself, the ball in his grasp. He slammed it down with a burst of white electricity that shattered the gym's sound barrier.

SCORE: GODS — 82 | RAPTORS — 43.

The Raptors stumbled backward, shielding their eyes. The net still glowed faintly from the static.

But Jalen didn't flinch.

He jogged to pick up the ball, dribbling twice snap, snap.

"Again," he said, voice quiet but unyielding.

Tyrese nodded, chest heaving. They locked eyes an unspoken pact.

Jalen handed off, then cut through the defense.

Ares lunged missed.

Poseidon reached brushed air.

Hades shifted to block, too late.

Tyrese fired the pass through the narrow lane — perfect timing. Jalen caught it, spun on his heel.

The gods were still turning as he rose into his jumper.

Midrange.

Pure.

Swish.

SCORE: GODS — 82 | RAPTORS — 45.

The crowd roared again, this time not in disbelief, but in belief.

Human will was starting to breathe fire again.

The arena trembled not from divine aura this time, but from momentum.

The Raptors had scored twice in a row. Against them.

The crowd, once fearful and quiet, was alive again.

Every clap felt heavier, every scream sharper.

From the commentator's booth, the broadcasters could barely hold their voices steady.

"Wait—wait a second, folks!"

The first shouted, almost tripping over his own words.

"Did you see that? Zion just absorbed Ares' drive like it was nothing!"

The other commentator stammered, voice trembling with excitement.

"That's not supposed to be possible! Ares' strength is legendary—he broke two backboards last season!"

They replayed the clip Zion's feet sliding, his core locked, his pivot immaculate.

Every detail screamed: human precision defeating divine brute force.

Then the dunk. Kobe Morales soaring through the lane both hands slamming thunder back where it came from.

"That's the Tower!" the first commentator yelled.

"That's pure basketball, no miracles, no abilities just heart and timing!"

In the bleachers, Ethan's hand hovered over his notebook, but he wasn't writing.

His eyes were razor sharp, scanning every pattern, every faint flicker of aura.

"...Did you see Zeus's eyes?" he muttered.

Lucas nodded beside him.

"Yeah. He blinked. First time this game."

Ethan exhaled slowly.

"They're not invincible just efficient. They optimize every second, every motion. But they haven't adapted yet."

He flipped the page and started sketching quick lines movement paths, court spacing.

The words were messy but alive:

"Ares predictable under pressure."

"Poseidon stabilizes rhythm, disrupt him, break the wave."

"Zeus relies on emotional feedback loops from team. Disrupt flow, disrupt throne."

Lucas leaned over, eyes gleaming.

"You're mapping gods."

Ethan smirked faintly.

"No. I'm mapping their habits."

He tapped the page.

"Even gods have routines. And routines can be broken."

To be continue