Basketball Soul System: I Got Westbrook’s MVP Powers in Another World!

The final buzzer still echoed through Iron Vault Arena, its steel rafters trembling under the roar of tens of thousands of fans.

The scoreboard was frozen at 107–106—Roarers over the Ceris Shadows. Ryan, sweat-soaked in his No. 0 jersey, stood at center court, chest heaving. Thirty minutes on the floor, 33 points, 5 assists, 9 rebounds—even with a cold still tickling his throat. Iron City's pulse thrummed through him as the crowd chanted, "Ry-an! Ry-an!"

At the broadcast table, Jim "The Voice" Callahan's baritone boomed over the airwaves: "Ryan Carter's performance tonight? You'd never guess he was under the weather. Thirty-three points, including that clutch shot!"

Duke "Ice" Patterson, the ex-ABA guard, laughed. "No kidding, Jim. Roarers owe this W to the kid. He dragged 'em back from an 18-point hole."

Ryan's eyes flicked to the VIP seats, where Chloe Palmer—his girlfriend and the spark behind his fire—stood radiant in his No. 0 jersey, blonde hair catching the arena lights. Her blue eyes locked on his, and she flashed a thumbs-up, her grin brighter than the jumbotron.

Next to her, her dad, Steven Palmer, was already heading for the exit, his silver hair vanishing into the crowd. Normally, Chloe left with him, but tonight she lingered, and Ryan knew why: the on-court interview was coming. A game-high scorer with a near-buzzer-beater? The mics were his.

Sideline reporter Jenna Torres, sharp in a blazer and holding an ABA-branded mic, jogged over, her cameraman trailing. The crowd's roar softened as she flashed a smile. "Ryan, what a night! Thirty-three points, nine boards, and that game-winner. Word is you were battling a cold, so you started on the bench. How'd you pull this off?"

Ryan wiped sweat from his brow, his voice steady despite a faint cough. "Yeah, woke up yesterday feeling like trash. I'm usually good—down a Zero9 every day, keeps me locked in. But I ran out this week, forgot to restock, and bam, cold hits."

He could feel the PR team wincing from the sidelines.

He grinned, knowing he was skating close to the line.

Ryan thought to himself that he hadn't mentioned Zero9 in interviews since the league's warning and fine. Bringing it up now after so long shouldn't be a big deal, right?

Jenna's expression immediately turned awkward.

The camera quickly panned to Zero9's boss, Chloe.

Chloe, amused by Ryan, burst into a bright smile, giving two thumbs-up to the camera.

Interview done, Ryan jogged to the tunnel, the arena's energy trailing him like a shadow.

In the locker room, the vibe was electric—teammates slapping his back, Darius tossing him a towel, Kamara blasting hip-hop from a speaker.

Ryan beelined for his locker, fishing out his phone to text Chloe: Wait for me? Grab some food?

Her reply was instant: Gotta roll with Dad. Sorry, babe. A sad emoji followed.

He typed back, Aight, cool… disappointment tugging at him, but he got it.

Minutes later, PR tapped him on the shoulder—press conference time.

And when the questions inevitably turned to his "flu game," he didn't miss the chance to slip Zero9 into the conversation again. After all, he wasn't just their brand ambassador anymore. He was dating Chloe Palmer. Selling the drink was almost personal.

——

Ryan woke up the next morning feeling great. He took a deep breath—no tickle, no burn, his throat as clear as the court after a fresh wax. The cold was toast, and he felt like he could posterize the whole league.

Perfect.

Tonight's back-to-back, a home clash against the Western Conference's fourth seed, the Emerald Bay Lumina, would get the best version of him.

He couldn't help but think back to his ABA debut—on the road against the very same Lumina. The Roarers had been so far behind that the fourth quarter turned into garbage time. He'd checked in, caught fire, and dropped 35 in a single quarter, smashing records and putting his name on the map.

He grabbed his phone, smirking at the lock screen—a diner selfie with Chloe, her grin pressed against his, all warmth and mischief.

He fired off a text: Morning, babe.

Chloe's reply buzzed: Check Atlantis Today. A winking emoji tailed it.

Puzzled, he opened his browser. Atlantis Today was the country's biggest paper, with a massive online edition.

A few swipes in, a headline jumped out at him—something loud and scandal-ready, pairing his name with Chloe's. Beneath it was a photo of them kissing in a fast-food joint.

He pulled up their site, thumb scrolling, and stopped dead. "ABA's Hottest Rookie Ryan Carter Locks Lips with Zero9's Chloe Palmer: Iron City's New Power Couple?" Below it, a photo from yesterday's diner—him and Chloe mid-kiss, her fingers tangled in his hair, caught in a moment that screamed heat.

"Not bad," Ryan muttered, tilting his phone to get a better look at the photo. Whoever snapped it had nailed the angle.

He skimmed the article—apparently, he and Chloe had been "a thing" for a while now. The evidence? Her signing him as the face of Zero9, and that All-Star Weekend Skills Challenge stunt where he'd lifted her for a dunk. Case closed, according to Atlantis Today.

The article was blowing up, 5,000 likes and hundreds of comments already.

He tapped into the comment section, scrolling.

"No wonder Ryan's always plugging Zero9 at pressers."

"Told my buddies months ago they were hooking up."

Ryan snorted, scrolling past a few more takes before backing out of the page. With a grin tugging at his mouth, he hit Chloe's number.

Ryan grinned, shaking his head. Bunch of know-it-alls. He hit Chloe's number, the dial tone humming as Iron City's morning buzzed outside.

Chloe picked up on the second ring, her voice warm and teasing. "Hey, morning."

Ryan grinned at his phone. "So, what's your take on that Atlantis Today bombshell?"

Chloe's laugh rippled through the line. "Not bad for a paparazzi snap. They caught my good side."

He laughed too. She wasn't wrong. It wasn't a scandal—just a relationship going public. They'd never exactly hidden it, holding hands in public and stealing kisses without caring who saw, but they hadn't expected an Atlantis Today reporter to catch it on camera.

"You're not pissed?" he asked, half-testing.

"Why would I be?" Chloe shot back, her tone playful. "It's not like we're caught stealing. Free entertainment headline? I'll take it."

Ryan smirked, leaning back. "I mean about them saying we've been together forever."

She snorted. "Who cares? You gonna call a press conference to set 'em straight?"

"Nah," he said, voice easy. "If I get to the post-game presser tonight, they'll ask. I'll just roll with it."

"Then you better ball out," Chloe teased. "Earn that mic."

Ryan laughed. "C'mon, you forgetting my debut? Dropped 35 in one quarter on the Lumina's court. I got this."

They bantered a bit longer—quick jabs, flirty digs—before hanging up. No breakfast plans; both had packed days. The Roarers had a morning practice and film session to prep for the Emerald Bay Lumina, and Chloe was probably buried in Zero9 emails. Ryan tossed his phone, the city's pulse humming outside, ready to hit the court and make tonight count.

9:45 a.m. – Roarers Training Center.

Ryan pushed through the glass doors and made his way to the film room. One by one, the rest of the squad drifted in, coffee cups in hand.

Kamara was first to plop down beside him, grinning like he'd just found gold. "Man, you really went and bagged Chloe Palmer, huh?"

A few heads turned, the air instantly thick with gossip.

Darius leaned over the seat in front of him. "Wait—what's the story?"

"Don't take my word for it," Kamara said, already pulling out his phone. "Check Atlantis Today."

Within seconds, the room was lit with the glow of screens. Murmurs rose. Someone let out a low whistle.

"Damn," Darius said, eyebrows climbing. "You've been with Chloe this long and never said a word?"

Ryan shook his head. "Don't believe everything you read. We only started two days ago—when I was sick, she came over to check on me, and that's when I asked her out."

Kamara smirked. "Uh-huh. And I've been saying she liked you for ages. You think she makes house calls for just anyone?"

The room broke into laughter and playful digs until the door swung open.

Coach Crawford stepped in, and the chatter died instantly. Time for business.

The screen flickered to life, casting shadows over the team's still-smirking faces.

Today's focus: the Lumina's engine—Lamar Dixon. All-Star ball-handler. MVP front-runner. Walking nightmare for defenses.

Ryan had been here for a Lamar breakdown before—back during his first film session. He'd taken notes then, and now Crawford was just fine-tuning the details.

Across the room, Darius stayed quiet. Last time he'd sworn he'd "cook" Lamar, and by the end of the third quarter, Lamar had done the cooking.

Ryan sat back, mind buzzing. Last time, he'd only faced Dixon in garbage time. Tonight, there'd be no hiding. Tonight, he'd finally get him head-on.

And he couldn't wait.