The ball spun like a coin through light, carving a thin line over the collapsing trap.
(Corner or lift? Corner or lift—now!)
Lucas sprang out of his flare like a slingshot, heels kissing the sideline. Evan ghosted up off Brandon's screen, hands ready. Malik pivoted to split the difference, one arm to the corner, one eye on the lift.
Ethan's pass snapped to the corner.
Lucas caught it chest-high.
Jet whirled.
Clamps launched.
Dante screamed from the wing. "HAND UP!"
Lucas didn't blink. (Ray Allen corner footwork—plant, pop, no dip.) Absolute Mimicry clicked; his feet set before the ball even met his fingers. He rose into a lightning-quick catch-and-shoot, release high, clean, ruthless.
The net quivered like someone plucked a harp string.
SWISH.
23–20, Vorpal. 2:57.
The gym detonated. Louie leapt so high he almost tackled Kai. "LET'S GO, MASTER LUCAS!"
Ayumi cupped her hands, cheeks flushed. "Beautiful shot!"
