On the court.
The scoreboard ticked forward mercilessly.
67:56.
The gap had widened to 11 points.
In a high school game, that was practically a death sentence.
Especially when the opponent… was a cheating-level monster.
"Damn it…"
Uozumi Jun slammed his fist against the floor, his massive frame trembling slightly.
As Kanagawa's top giant, all he felt right now was utter helplessness.
That dunk just now—
It had happened right above his head.
He wanted to jump. He wanted to block it.
But his body had frozen on instinct. He didn't even dare move.
That primal suppression from the top of the food chain turned this so-called "king of apes" into a quivering quail in an instant.
"Don't just stand there!"
A sharp shout exploded across the court.
Sendoh had already run to the baseline to receive the ball.
The smile on his face was gone—replaced by an unprecedented seriousness, and… the madness of a gambler.
"The game's not over!"
Sendoh roared, his voice echoing through the arena.
"It's only 11 points! Score, and we're back in it!"
"Move!"
He dribbled forward, eyes locked firmly onto Makino Juro.
No retreat.
Even after being humiliated, he still chose to face him head-on.
"Oh?"
Juro stopped, tilting his head slightly.
"Still coming to feed yourself to me?"
"I already told you—this road is blocked."
A cruel smile curled at the corner of his lips.
If you want to play, then I'll play with you to the end.
Your pride, your hope, your hidden cards—
I'll crush them all into dust.
"Bang!"
Sendoh launched another attack.
This time, he used Uozumi's massive body as a wall, trying to shake Makino Juro off with a screen.
"A screen?"
Makino Juro sneered.
At the exact moment Uozumi blocked his path like a wall—
Makino Juro didn't go around.
He didn't slow down.
Zone.
Full throttle.
His body twisted at an impossibly bizarre angle.
Like he had no bones, he slid along Uozumi's body and slipped through.
Ignoring collision volume entirely.
No loss of speed!
"What the hell?!"
Uozumi only felt a gust of wind rush past him—the black figure had already cut ahead.
Sendoh had just risen for a shot—
A massive hand blotted out the sky.
"Smack!"
A volleyball-style block!
The ball was swatted away violently.
It bounced toward the sideline.
But a shadow was faster than the ball.
Rukawa Kaede!
The fox that had been waiting for his moment.
Like a black bolt of lightning, he dove to save it!
Mid-air, he grabbed the ball and landed—then instantly exploded forward.
The frontcourt was wide open!
"This one's mine!"
Rukawa roared, charging toward the basket with killing intent.
But just as he leapt for a dunk—
A chilling gust of wind came from behind.
Not a defender.
A teammate?!
"Move."
Makino Juro's voice sounded above him, cold as a tyrant.
In the next instant.
Rukawa's vision went dark.
Makino Juro had jumped from behind him—
Higher.
Longer hang time.
In mid-air, Makino Juro reached out with one hand and grabbed the ball from Rukawa's grip.
"You—" Rukawa's pupils trembled.
"This ball… is mine."
Makino Juro declared dominion.
Mid-air, he exerted force again—
"BOOM!"
Over his own teammate!
Makino Juro completed a completely insane putback dunk.
Rukawa stumbled upon landing, staring at Makino Juro hanging from the rim.
"Bastard…"
"That was my ball!!"
Rukawa gritted his teeth, fury blazing in his eyes.
Makino Juro dropped down, shrugging casually.
"Too slow."
"Lagging?"
"On my court, it's survival of the fittest."
"If you can't take it, don't complain."
Arrogant.
Unbelievably arrogant.
Stealing from his own teammate. Dunking over his own teammate.
This wasn't basketball anymore—
This was dictatorship on the court.
And yet...
Rukawa didn't explode like usual.
He stared at Juro.
The anger in his eyes slowly transformed into something purer.
Something more twisted.
A hunger for power.
"One day…"
Rukawa clenched his fists and turned to run back on defense, his back radiating killing intent.
"I'll dunk you—and the ball—straight into the ground."
…
From that moment on.
It became Ryonan's nightmare.
Or rather…
Makino Juro's personal slaughterhouse.
Formless shots.
Impossible-angle hooks.
Ultra-high-speed dribble drives.
Makino Juro was like a max-level account stomping through a beginner zone.
Ryonan's proud defensive system crumbled like paper in front of him.
Uozumi lost his bearings.
Fukuda was blocked into self-doubt.
Koshino and Uekusa couldn't even touch the ball.
Only Sendoh kept holding on.
Again and again, beaten.
Again and again, stripped.
Yet he kept getting up.
Sweat soaked his jersey.
His stamina was drained, his face pale as paper.
But he kept running.
Kept smiling.
Only now, that smile looked unbearably bitter.
"So this is… the gap?"
Taoka Moichi collapsed into his chair.
The scoreboard numbers were so harsh they made his eyes sting.
88:65.
23 points.
It was over.
Completely over.
That boy named Makino Juro—
By himself, had shredded Ryonan, a top-four team in the prefecture.
Had pushed Sendoh Akira, a genius, to the very edge of a cliff.
"Beeeep!"
The final buzzer sounded.
The score froze at 92:68.
Shohoku crushed Ryonan by 24 points.
The arena fell into brief silence—
Then erupted with thunderous applause that nearly blew off the roof.
Not cheers for victory.
But reverence for something divine.
In the stands.
The Shoyo players stood to leave.
Fujima Kenji rose.
He took one deep look at Makino Juro and murmured:
"You've grown even stronger… Makino Juro."
…
On the court.
The terrifying aura around Makino Juro vanished like a receding tide the moment the buzzer sounded.
His straight, spear-like posture collapsed instantly.
From demon king…
Back to a lazy slacker.
"Ah… I'm exhausted."
Makino Juro yawned widely.
The faint blue glow in his eyes faded back to black.
He rubbed his sore shoulder, looking at his sweat-soaked body with disgust.
"The system's side effects are way too strong… feels like I've been drained dry…"
He slowly walked toward the bench.
As he passed Sendoh, he paused for a moment.
Sendoh was bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air.
Sweat pooled on the floor beneath him.
Yet he still lifted his head and forced out an ugly smile.
"We lost…"
"Lost everything… down to the last shred."
His voice was hoarse, like he'd swallowed sand.
Makino Juro glanced at him.
"Hey, porcupine head."
Makino Juro spoke lazily.
"Don't smile like that. It's disgusting."
"Next time we meet—if you're still this weak…"
"You'll lose even worse."
With that, he turned and left without looking back.
Sendoh froze for a moment.
Then—
He laughed.
This time, it was genuine. Free. Unburdened.
"Makino Juro…"
Sendoh straightened up, staring at that lazy retreating figure, his eyes blazing once more.
"Next time…"
"I won't let you have it so easy."
…
[Mission Complete]
[Reward Acquired: Skill Point +1, Akashi Seijuro Template Progress 50% (Current Progress: 100%)]
[Congratulations, Host! You have unlocked the template: Akashi Seijuro]
END OF CHAPTER
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The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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