CHAPTER 219: CHAPTER 206: ETHAN VS LUCAS

The sun poured through the dusty gym windows, staining the hardwood court in golden streaks. Sweat already clung to the air from the earlier scrimmages, the faint squeak of shoes and the distant hum of the ceiling fans setting the scene. The rest of the team gathered at the sidelines, leaning against the wall or crouching low, eyes glued to the center court where two figures stood ready.

Lucas Graves, with his sharp yellow eyes glinting in the light, dribbled the ball lazily in one hand. Across from him, Ethan Albarado rolled his shoulders, his faint smirk hiding the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

"How many points?" Lucas asked, his voice even but carrying a playful challenge.

"Hmm... still 20," Ethan replied, tapping his foot as if already impatient to begin.

Lucas spun the ball in his hands once before grinning. "Okay... the first one who gets 20 wins."

Ethan’s smirk widened. "Are you ready to get beaten?"

Lucas tilted his head slightly. "Well... no."

A ripple of laughter and murmurs passed through the sidelines. Kai Mendoza gulped, his eyes shifting between the two like a fan watching the opening bell of a boxing match. Jeremy Park folded his arms, his gaze sharp and unwavering, as if memorizing every move. Louie leaned forward with a fist pump. "Let’s go, Ethan! Beat that stupid golden-eye boy!"

Lucas shot him a side-eye glare. "Call me senior, you dumbass."

Louie just grinned back without an ounce of respect.

The whistle from Coach didn’t even fully sound before Lucas exploded forward. His first dribble was sharp, the ball snapping against the hardwood. Ethan’s knees bent instantly, weight shifting low, eyes locked on Lucas’s waist. "(Fast... but not as fast as before.)"

Lucas feinted left, selling it with a hard step, then crossed right. Ethan’s footwork matched him step for step, his sneakers skidding slightly. The sound of rubber on wood echoed loud under the high ceiling.

Lucas pulled up just inside the arc, his shooting form crisp and familiar. Ethan’s hand shot up just brushing the ball’s arc. It rattled against the rim but bounced out. Ethan was already there for the rebound, palms firm as he tucked the ball under his arm.

"Tch... almost," Lucas muttered, already jogging back to set his defense.

Ethan bounced the ball a few times, his eyes scanning Lucas. "(He’s testing me. No need to rush.)" He pushed forward, body leaning just enough to keep Lucas guessing. Then, in a flash, Ethan drove right, planted, and spun left. His shoulder brushed Lucas’s arm as he slipped past, stepping into the paint. One smooth layup later swish.

"One-zero," Ethan announced with that same shameless smirk.

The bench players whistled and clapped, the echoes bouncing around the empty half of the court. Kai muttered under his breath, "(This is going to be crazy...)" Jeremy’s eyes didn’t blink once.

Lucas caught the inbound from Ethan and grinned. "Not bad... but don’t think that’s happening twice."

Ethan’s gaze sharpened. "Then keep up, senior."

The ball hit the floor again, the crowd leaning forward in anticipation as the next play began.

Lucas dribbled with slow, deliberate rhythm, eyes locked on Ethan’s feet. "(If I can’t get past him head-on... I’ll copy his own moves.)"

The next instant, his dribble cadence shifted — sharp, fluid, almost unnatural. Ethan’s pupils narrowed. "(That’s... my Celestial Crossover?)"

Lucas’s body leaned right, then gravity seemed to tilt left as his hips snapped across. Ethan’s balance wavered for half a second just enough. Lucas stepped into the space and rose for a clean jumper. Swish.

"One–one." Louie slapped his thigh in frustration. "Oi! He’s using your moves, Ethan!"

"(Absolute Mimicry... so that’s how it feels to be on the receiving end.)"

Ethan exhaled, adjusting his stance.

Ethan took possession, dribbling low. He triggered his Lucid Awareness Engine, feeling every micro-shift in Lucas’s stance. "(He’s expecting another drive... so let’s go high instead.)"

A sudden step-back Perfect Power Shot activated. His form snapped into legendary rhythm, the ball leaving his fingertips in a high arc from deep range. Nothing but net.

"Three–one!" Ryan called out, eyebrows raised.

Lucas smirked. "Alright... you want to shoot? Let’s shoot."

Next play, Lucas wasted no time. Using Sharpshooter’s Soul via Absolute Mimicry, he copied Ethan’s exact release and range. From almost the same spot swish.

"Three–three."

The crowd was eating it up now. Kai’s jaw was tight. "(They’re... mirroring each other. This is insane.)"

Possession swung back and forth, Ethan with a Jordan Air Control-style hang-time finish after faking a mid-range shot: 5–3.

Lucas responded instantly, absorbing the hang-time technique and finishing with the exact same motion: 5–5.

Ethan grinned mid-dribble. "You really think copying is enough?"

Lucas’s eyes narrowed. "Only if the original isn’t perfect."

The pace picked up, Ethan blew past Lucas with Ankle Breaker Supreme, his rhythm-breaking stutter causing Lucas to stumble a step. He laid it in effortlessly. 7–5.

But Lucas wasn’t rattled. Using Tim Duncan Endure, he grounded his stance, nullifying Ethan’s rhythm break on the next possession. Then, with a single power dribble, he used a textbook bank shot from mid-range. 7–7.

Jeremy leaned forward. "(Lucas isn’t just copying moves... he’s copying how to counter them.)"

Now, the gym was dead silent except for the pounding of the ball. Ethan’s breath was steady, but the adrenaline was surging. He activated Vision Break — Lucas’s predictive sense faltered for just three seconds. In that window, Ethan slashed left, pulled up for a deep three with Kobe Fadeaway EX... swish.

"Eight–seven!" Ryan announced, his voice echoing.

Lucas caught the ball for the next play, a grin tugging at his lips. "(He’s good... but I’m not done yet.)"

Manager Ayumi Brooke, leaning lightly against the wall, adjusted her glasses. (They are really awesome... different from the rest of the team...) she thought, eyes glimmering with excitement.

On the opposite side of the court, Coach Ron watched silently, arms folded. His expression was unreadable, but his thoughts were sharp. (Ethan... and Lucas Graves... how much of a monster are you two trying to become? This match... Ethan will win. Even though Lucas copies his moves... it’s strange. He can’t perfect them. I’ve seen Lucas completely replicate the techniques of countless players he’s faced... yet when he copies Ethan, it’s like a downgraded version. What’s your secret, Ethan?)

The game had just begun, but the sidelines could feel it this wasn’t just a 1-on-1. This was two monsters testing the limits of what basketball could be.

To be continue