Garrison stood tall on the painted baseline of the court, the rubber soles of his high-tops squeaking against the polished lacquer as he shifted his weight. Flanking him were three massive varsity starters, their imposing shadows stretching far across the hardwood under the bright, buzzing fluorescent gym lights.
"We do this right here, right now," Garrison sneered, raising the back of his hand to wipe a smear of fresh blood from his split chin, his expression venomous. He pointed a thick, sweat-slicked finger directly up at the bleachers.
"A standard three-on-three scrimmage, half-court rules. First team to hit eleven points wins it all. If by some miracle you win, you keep the facility keys and the deed. But if we win, you hand over that black card, sign the stadium back to my family, and get down on your knees to apologize in front of the entire program."
Jaxon looked down from the highest row of the metal bleachers, his expression remaining entirely level. His hands stayed casually buried deep inside the pockets of his faded grey tracksuit. He didn’t blink. He didn’t show a single trace of hesitation.
Garrison’s heavyweights, Jaxon thought, his internal monologue passing a dry, analytical judgment on the scene below.
He remembered the exact evening two years ago when he sat at his desk, typing out the background stats for these specific three varsity players in his manuscript. He had intentionally written them into The Golden Court as mindless muscle—units with zero actual basketball IQ, heavy feet, and a total reliance on raw, brute force to clear the paint.
Completely predictable, Jaxon added silently, the corner of his mouth twitching into a cold, barely visible smirk. I wrote your exact strengths and limitations, boys. To me, you’re not elite athletes. You’re just slightly larger, oversized speed bumps standing in the middle of my court.
"Deal," Jaxon said, his voice smooth, clear, and perfectly echoed off the concrete walls of the arena. He began a slow, deliberate descent down the metal stairs. "Pick your lineup."
Garrison smirked, gesturing arrogantly to the two largest players beside him, Chad and Brutus. Both of them stood well over six-foot-eight, their broad, muscle-bound shoulders flexing beneath their heavy varsity practice jerseys as they cracked their knuckles with ugly, mocking grins.
"Who’s even going to step onto the floor with you, broke trash?" Garrison barked, throwing his head back as a loud, echoing laugh escaped his chest. "Are you going to recruit the janitor’s mop and your little metal clipboard to fill out the roster?"
The surrounding players on the sidelines snickered, their whispers rippling through the gym.
Jaxon ignored the noise completely. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he turned his head slowly, his gaze locking first onto the dark-haired point guard sitting nearby, and then shifting toward the doorway.
Gasps.
The entire gymnasium instantly exploded into a chaotic flurry of shocked chatter and disbelieving murmurs.
"Is this guy completely out of his mind?!" a benchwarmer shouted from the sidelines, leaning forward in disbelief. "Two girls against three elite, fully conditioned varsity starters?!"
"Kira’s left knee is completely shot, and Roxie is a track sprinter—she doesn’t even know how to run a proper half-court set!" another varsity player yelled, shaking his head.
Kira’s dark, analytical eyes blew wide open at the announcement, her voluptuous chest rising sharply against her white compression top as her breath hitched. Her logical mind told her this was pure madness, but looking at Jaxon’s steady, unbothered posture, she didn’t hesitate for a single second. She stepped down from the wooden benches, her long, statuesque legs moving with a deliberate grace as she took her place right beside him. Her sub-zero, unapproachable "Ice Queen" demeanor returned instantly, masking the sharp throbbing in her patellar tendon as she glared down the opposing team.
Near the entrance, Roxie Sterling didn’t say a single word. She casually kicked off her designer athletic heels, letting them clatter against the floor, and stepped barefoot onto the glossy hardwood. The bright overhead lights caught her platinum-silver undercut, making her exotic violet eyes flash with an intense, long-hidden fire. Her skin-tight matte-black athletic bodysuit clung perfectly to every curve of her extreme hourglass silhouette, highlighting the exceptionally narrow line of her waist and the full, heavy flare of her hips as she glided to the right wing, taking her baseline position.
Standing side by side on the hardwood, the two women looked completely unreal—the icy, mechanical genius point guard and the fiercely striking silver-haired track idol, both anchored by a former assistant manager in a worn tracksuit.
Jaxon mentally smirked as he looked around at the mocking faces in the crowd.
Idiots, Jaxon thought, his internal confidence completely unshaken by their laughter. You honestly think this is a competitive suicide note. You have absolutely no idea how the hidden code of this system operates. Putting both of my primary targets on the exact same court is the perfect mechanical trigger I needed.
Bzzzzt.
Brilliant, neon-blue holographic screens violently exploded across Jaxon’s field of vision, scrolling data at a blinding speed while remaining entirely invisible to everyone else in the gym.
[System Alignment Triggered!]
[Extracting and Compounding Peak Attributes from Kira Thorne and Roxie Sterling...]
[Dual Synchronization Active: 15% Top Speed & 15% Elite Passing Reflexes Shared!]
[The Constellation ’Goddess of Wealth’ is highly thrilled and bets 50,000 Cosmic Tokens on your victory!]
Thump-thump!
A massive, instantaneous surge of raw, kinetic energy slammed straight into Jaxon’s spine, radiating downward into his limbs. His chest expanded slightly as his vision sharpened to an unnatural degree, tracking the exact muscle twitches, weight shifts, and breathing patterns of every single person inside the room. His physical body suddenly felt entirely weightless, his central nervous system firing human instincts at absolute hyper-speed.
Garrison threw his head back again, his loud, booming laughter echoing off the rafters.
"You actually brought a literal cripple and a track girl to play a physical half-court game?!" Garrison gasped, wiping a tear of simulated amusement from his eye as he dropped low.
"Do you really want to be utterly humiliated and broken in front of your own staff that badly, Jax?!"
Thud!
Garrison violently whipped the basketball forward, passing it hard straight at Jaxon’s chest, instantly dropping his six-foot-six frame into a wide, cocky defensive stance.
"Check!" Garrison shouted, his eyes flashing with a malicious heat. "Let’s see how many seconds you can actually stay on your feet before we run you over!"
Jaxon’s arm moved like a blur, his large left hand snatching the heavy basketball out of the air effortlessly with a single, iron-grip catch. He didn’t even bother to look down at the ball, nor did he look back at Garrison’s posturing.
His eyes simply glowed with a cold, absolute dominance as the pulsing, blood-blue system notification flashed wildly across his vision, signaling the start of the match.