Ex Ball

chapter 12- New path, rookie all-star

Chapter 12: "Enter the Arena"

The fluorescent lights above flickered as OJ entered the Ex Ball League's training complex. The air was thick with the smell of fresh rubber, sweat, and something metallic-a reminder that the Ex Ball League wasn't just about finesse. It was a survival test.

Around him, players moved in focused warm-ups, stretching, shadowboxing, and sprinting. All of them looked like they belonged in a league of their own: muscles chiseled, eyes sharp, each with an aura of raw power and something else-experience. His stomach tightened.

"Jordan!" A sharp voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up to see Knox, the scout who'd dragged him into this world, walking toward him with his usual smirk. Knox was in his mid-thirties, but there was something timeless about him-an intensity that no amount of years could blunt. Once the most feared player in Ex Ball, now he wore the scars of his legacy openly: a sharp line along his jaw, a faint limp, and a gaze that seemed to peel back every layer of a person with a single glance.

"Welcome to the big leagues. Nervous?" Knox asked, his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised.

OJ forced himself to swallow. "Nah, just ready to play."

Knox chuckled, though there was no warmth in his laugh. "Well, this isn't exactly like that neighborhood court of yours. These players have been here longer, hit harder, and know every trick in the book. You'll need to learn fast."

A sharp whistle pierced the room. One of the league's coordinators stood at the center of the court, clipboard in hand, sizing up each player with a cold, calculating look.

"Alright, rookies and veterans, gather around," the coordinator barked. "This is your first practice session as a new team. This is where we separate those who can hang from those who can't."

OJ joined the others in a loose semicircle around the court. He noticed a few of them watching him with curious eyes, as if sizing him up. He could practically feel the weight of their judgment. They looked older, taller, stronger-all qualities that made OJ feel like the outsider he was.

Knox clapped his hands. "Listen up. Today, you're all here to show me what you've got. The league needs its best on the field, and I don't care how many dreams I crush along the way. If you can't handle the pressure, the door's that way." He pointed to the exit, his eyes locking onto OJ for a beat.

The first drill was a two-on-two scrimmage. As Knox called out names, OJ found himself paired with a hulking figure, a player with "Hades" tattooed on his arm. His eyes were dark and unflinching, and his presence alone seemed to take up half the court.

"Hope you're ready, rook," Hades grunted, glancing at OJ as if already dismissing him.

"More than ready," OJ shot back, though his voice came out a bit shakier than he wanted.

Their opponents were veterans: one of them tall, lean, and moving with a speed that OJ had never seen outside of highlight reels. The other was all brute strength, built like a wall with a demeanor that made it clear he didn't think much of rookies.

The whistle blew, and before OJ had time to blink, the tall player was already racing down the court, his footwork almost a blur. Hades tried to block him, but he twisted mid-air, landing a dunk that rattled the entire hoop.

"Wake up, rook!" Hades barked. "This is Ex Ball. You think you can stand around and watch?"

OJ bit back his frustration and steadied himself. The next play, he would make an impact-somehow.

He inbounded the ball to Hades, who bulldozed his way forward, clearing a path with his sheer size. OJ followed closely, reading the angles. When Hades got trapped, OJ dashed around to his right, calling for the pass.