CHAPTER 254: CHAPTER 241: VORPAL VS HARBOR KINGS (8)

The scoreboard burned in the rafters:

Vorpal 66 – Harbor 53.

The whistle split the gym, sharp as a blade.

Both squads broke from their huddles like armies marching to the front.

Ayumi clutched her clipboard on the Vorpal bench, knuckles white. Her whisper barely carried through the roar:

"This is it. The second half—this is where everything shifts."

Ethan rolled his shoulders, jersey clinging to his sweat-soaked frame. His eyes, cool and razor-sharp, scanned the court. Lucas bounced on his toes, golden eyes gleaming. Ryan leaned back with a smirk, oozing playboy confidence. Louie pounded his chest like a drum, shouting for the crowd to hear. Brandon stood steady, silent and rooted like a mountain.

Across the hardwood, Harbor looked like predators let loose.

Jet crouched low, lightning coiled in his calves. Dante spun the ball once, smirk twitching with arrogance. Malik shadow-stepped, loose and fluid, waiting to slice through any seam. Brick cracked his knuckles, each pop like gunfire. And DeShawn stretched his skyscraper frame skyward, arms a cage ready to crush the rim.

The referee tossed the ball in.

The war for the third quarter began.

Possession 1 – Harbor Kings

Jet caught the inbound, exploding upcourt in a blur.

"I got him! I got him!" Louie barked, retreating fast.

But Jet’s speed was merciless. A flash of sneakers, a whip of the ball, Louie staggered a half-step behind.

Ethan slid over, golden eyes narrowing. (He’s baiting baseline... forcing the gap.)

Jet snapped his Jet Step a crossover so quick the ball vanished from sight. The gym gasped.

He tore past Ethan’s help and darted toward the rim.

Brandon roared, planting his body in front, muscles flexing. A wall.

But DeShawn was already in motion, cutting like a blade through air.

Jet tossed the lob without hesitation.

BOOM!

The Skyline Slam shook the rim, rattling the backboard. The crowd detonated in chaos.

"SKYLINE! SKYLINE! SKYLINE!" Harbor’s section screamed, stomping the bleachers.

Vorpal 66 – Harbor 55.

Possession 2 – Vorpal Basket

Louie jogged the ball up, frustration burning in his eyes.

"Damn, he burned me like I was standing still..."

Lucas jogged beside him, clapping his shoulder, sunshine grin unfazed.

"Forget it. Next play. We shine together."

Ethan cut across the wing, Ryan drifted to the corner, and Brandon wrestled with Brick for position inside.

Harbor’s defense snapped tight. Jet shadowed Louie, Malik and Dante shading toward Lucas, bodies tense like coiled springs.

Louie’s eyes flickered. He raised his voice so the whole gym could hear:

"ISO! ISO! Sunshine on the wing!"

Gasps rippled. All eyes swung to Lucas, ball in his hands at the arc.

The trap came fast Malik and Dante collapsing.

Lucas’ grin widened.

"You want me? Take me."

His first dribble mirrored Jet’s Jet Step ball whipping between his legs, bursting right. Both defenders bit.

But instead of attacking, Lucas snapped a no-look bounce pass back to Louie, who had slipped free at the top.

Louie rose, pure streetball instinct in his form.

Swish!

The crowd thundered, Vorpal’s bench leaping in unison.

Vorpal 69 – Harbor 55.

Possession 3 – Harbor Kings

Dante Morales caught it high, rhythm flowing through his hands.

"One, two, dagger time." His voice dripped confidence.

He rose from deep, a step beyond the arc.

The shot arced, clean, deadly

But Lucas’ golden eyes locked on him. His body mirrored, rising with the Sniper’s same mechanics.

CLAP!

The ball smacked his fingertips, shot dying in midair.

"Rebound!" Brandon bellowed, devouring the ball with both hands. He rifled the outlet to Ethan.

Transition.

Ethan stormed up the court, scanning. Louie streaked the sideline, Ryan settled in the corner, Lucas trailed like a shadow.

(Decision. Exploit the scramble. Weak side’s open.)

The pass zipped. Ryan caught, hesitated just long enough to smirk at Dante.

"This one’s for your ex."

He let it fly.

Splash.

The net snapped.

Vorpal 72 – Harbor 55.

The gym shook under the eruption.

Timeout – Harbor Kings

Mrs. Sora Nakamura slammed her clipboard against her thigh. Her voice cracked like thunder over the chaos:

"LOCK IN! We’re not here to watch them dance! Jet break Louie again. Dante hunt shots. Malik spin through their gaps. Brick, DeShawn no mercy inside!"

Her players nodded, faces grim, but unease bled through. Their storm had landed yet Vorpal wasn’t folding.

Because on the other side, Lucas and Louie were laughing, bumping shoulders. Ryan blew kisses to the bleachers like it was his stage. Brandon stood steady, silent as stone. And Ethan leaned coolly against the scorer’s table, unreadable, his calm more dangerous than any smirk.

(So far, so good. But this half isn’t about showing strength, it’s about surviving Harbor’s wave. Save it, Ethan. Their storm is only beginning.)

The whistle blew.

The game reset.

And the war for the third quarter ignited in full.

3rd Quarter – 6:00 remaining

Scoreboard: Vorpal 72 – Harbor 55

The gym was a storm. Feet stomping, chants colliding, thunderous voices splitting the air.

Jet Robinson crouched low at the top of the key, sweat dripping from his chin, his grin sharp.

"You thought you stopped me once? Nah. This time—I’m gone."

Louie slapped the floor, barking loud enough for the front row to hear.

"C’mon then, Blur! Show me what you got!"

Jet exploded. His crossover blurred, his sneakers squealing. Louie staggered half a step enough. Jet slashed inside, Malik flaring with him. Ethan rotated too late. Jet whipped a pass to Dante on the wing.

The Sniper caught, rose, fired in one motion.

SWISH.

The net snapped clean. Harbor’s bench jumped.

Vorpal 72 – Harbor 58.

3rd Quarter – 5:42

Lucas took the inbound, golden eyes glowing, the ball bouncing sharp against the hardwood. Clamps wasn’t on the floor, but Malik shaded him, grin teasing.

"Mimic boy. Let’s see you copy this."

Lucas jabbed, hard. Malik bit, Lucas spun, a mirror of Malik’s Brooklyn Spin, but cleaner, sharper. He glided into the lane, body twisting only to meet DeShawn in the air.

"NOT HERE!" Skyline swatted the shot into the stands. The crowd roared like thunder.

Ethan raised his hand quick. "Don’t force it, Lucas! Reset!"

Louie inbounded from the baseline, quick flick to Ethan at the wing. Ethan’s body lowered, muscles coiled. He dribbled once, then rose clean, smooth, pure form.

Kobe Fadeaway.

The ball arced, perfect rotation, swish through nylon.

Vorpal 74 – Harbor 58.

3rd Quarter – 5:18

Jet raced again, but this time Ethan angled early, cutting off the lane. Jet’s grin widened.

"Good read. But you’re still too slow."

He snapped behind-the-back, slashing baseline. Brandon stepped over—Brick bulldozed him with a vicious screen, chest to chest. Brandon grunted, nearly fell.

DeShawn rolled free. Jet floated the lob.

SKYLINE SLAM! Two hands, rim rattling.

Vorpal 74 – Harbor 60.

3rd Quarter – 4:55

Louie grinned, chest heaving. "Okay, okay, they wanna run highlights? Let’s give ’em a mixtape."

He zipped upcourt, bouncing the ball low, the rhythm hypnotic. Jet shadowed, step-for-step. Louie snapped a behind-the-back, then a spin, then a sudden shovel bounce.

Lucas cut already there, hands open. He caught, planted, and rose.

Harbor collapsed Dante lunged to block. Lucas pulled the Harbor Splash—Dante’s OWN shot form clean, confident.

SWISH.

Lucas backpedaled, pointing straight at Dante.

"Your shot. My bucket."

The bleachers ERUPTED.

Vorpal 77 – Harbor 60.

3rd Quarter – 4:36

Malik brought it down this time, eyes burning, dancing the ball in his palms. He glared across at Lucas.

"Spin City, baby. You can’t take this one."

He jabbed left, whipped into a Brooklyn Spin, gliding through Louie and Ethan. Ryan rotated late. Malik twisted midair, switching to his left, kissing the ball off glass.

Bucket.

Harbor roared.

Vorpal 77 – Harbor 62.

3rd Quarter – 4:20

Ethan gathered his team near halfcourt.

"Listen—don’t get sucked into their rhythm. Louie, keep spacing. Lucas, you don’t have to win every duel. Brandon, punish them inside."

Ryan smirked, slicking sweat from his hair.

"And me, boss?"

Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

"Hit their hearts. Keep their attention."

Ryan chuckled, "Say less."

On cue, Louie bounced it to Ryan on the wing. Malik pressed up, hand in his face. Ryan smirked, winked at a group of girls in the bleachers, then pulled anyway.

SWISH.

The gym howled. Ryan blew a kiss. Malik cursed under his breath.

Vorpal 80 – Harbor 62.

3rd Quarter – 4:00

Jet slapped the ball angrily, his grin gone. He crouched lower, eyes blazing.

"Enough games."

The pace shifted. He attacked with pure venom, slicing through Louie and Ethan, spinning like a blade. The Jet Step split two defenders then a whip pass to Dante, corner pocket.

SPLASH.

Harbor answered back.

Vorpal 80 – Harbor 65.

The war tightened, energy scorching.

And with 4 minutes left in the 3rd, both sides were breathing fire, Vorpal still leading, but Harbor refusing to die.

Meanwhile Charlotte side...

When Lucas backpedaled, pointing at Dante, Charlotte’s chest swelled. For a flash, she saw the boy who used to shoot at their crooked rim on the street corner, yelling "Game point!" with the same cocky grin.

But as Harbor punched back Jet carving through, Malik spinning free her fingers tightened on her hoodie. She bit her lip, whispering low.

"Stay sharp, Lucas... don’t let them drag you into their tempo."

Beside her, a parent muttered, impressed.

"That Graves kid’s a problem."

Charlotte didn’t even look over. Her jaw was set, eyes following every bounce, every breath of her brother.

And when Ryan hit that ridiculous three and winked at the stands, Charlotte rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smirking.

"Ugh, chickboy. Just don’t get carried away, guys. Keep feeding each other."

For her, every play was more than points on the board. It was proof, proof that Lucas wasn’t just chasing dreams anymore. He was claiming them.

To be continue