Basketball Soul System: I Got Westbrook's MVP Powers in Another World!
Chapter 77 :[100-ASSIST MILESTONE BONUS: NIGHT OF THE THREE]

Chapter 77: Chapter 77 :[100-ASSIST MILESTONE BONUS: NIGHT OF THE THREE]

The Hervi Mistfoxes play at a breakneck pace, much like the Eastmoor Vipers, but there’s one key difference—the Mistfoxes defend.

Ryan feels it the moment he brings the ball up and runs headlong into Damien Bayne—a jacked swingman glued to his hip.

No daylight, no breathing room. He has no choice but to kick the ball out.

After a couple of swings around the arc, it finds its way back to Ryan at the foul line. He pivots hard, dribbles past Bayne with a sharp spin, and attacks the rim.

But it’s a trap.

Just as the ball reaches its peak, Zeke Ender, the Mistfoxes’ 7-foot-4 rookie, materializes out of nowhere, swatting it with a vicious block.

The ball stays in bounds, landing right in Javell Monroe’s hands.

Monroe ignites a fast break, a one-man lightning bolt. The Roarers sprint back, desperate to reset.

Kamara manages to cut Monroe off just outside the three-point line, sticking to him like glue. Monroe tries a slick crossover, but Kamara doesn’t bite, holding his ground. Then, out of nowhere, Monroe whips a no-look, behind-the-back pass to Bayne.

Bayne catches it and pumps a textbook shot fake.

Ryan, guarding him, bites hard, lunging to contest.

Too late—he’s been played. Bayne blows by him with a single step, charging to the basket.

Malik and Gibson slide over for help, arms raised like twin towers, forcing Bayne into a fading jumper.

But in midair, Bayne pulls off an impossible twist, somehow whipping the ball to Jaden West in the left corner.

His defender, Lin, has already lost him, eyes locked on Bayne’s fadeaway.

That split-second lapse is all it takes.

He scrambles to recover, but he’s a half-step too slow.

West rises and releases.

Swish.

5-0.

The three-pointer splashes clean, and the MistBank Arena erupts.

The whole sequence took exactly ten seconds—a blink-and-you-miss-it clinic in fluid, ruthless offense.

Ryan shakes his head, hit again by the Mistfoxes’ seamless attack.

The Roarers’ possession starts with Ryan, determined to disrupt the Mistfoxes’ relentless tempo.

He dribbles across halfcourt at a measured pace, eyes scanning, refusing to rush. Settling into a halfcourt set, he signals Malik for a 1-5 pick-and-roll at the top of the key.

Malik’s screen is solid, and Ryan explodes off it, knifing into the paint before dishing a crisp pass to Lin in the corner.

But Bayne’s already there, lunging to contest. Lin pump-fakes, no clear shot, and swings the ball back out.

The Roarers stay patient, probing for an opening. Ball movement’s sharp, but the Mistfoxes’ defense is suffocating.

With the shot clock bleeding down to four seconds, Kamara rises for a contested three from the wing.

Clang.

The ball caroms off the rim. Zeke Ender, the towering rookie, skies for the board and fires an outlet pass to Monroe before the Roarers can blink.

And just like that—it’s a race.

Monroe blazes across halfcourt, barely slowing, and rifles a laser ahead to Bayne, who’s streaking to the three-point line.

Ryan lunges to close out, but Bayne takes one dribble and flips the ball back to Monroe, who’s already sliced past Lin with a vicious cut.

Monroe knifes through the lane, Lin in tow, but he’s a step too late.

Last line of defense: Malik.

Malik’s ready for a layup, arms high.

But Monroe’s already airborne, gliding with one hand cocked back.

BOOM.

A posterizing tomahawk slam right over Malik. The crowd loses its mind. Malik—frozen under the rim—is now part of the highlight reel.

Mistfoxes lead 7-0.

That entire sequence? Five seconds flat. Ender hasn’t even crossed halfcourt yet.

Ryan, desperate to stop the bleeding and spark his team, pushes the pace.

He crosses into the frontcourt, sees Bayne sagging just a hair too far, and rises into a Westbrook-style hopping vampire jumper.

Clang.

Ender again. Another rebound. Another outlet.

Monroe accelerates into transition.

The Roarers sprint back like their lives depend on it.

This time, they’re set—everyone locked into their spots, executing their Pack Line Defense to perfection.

Monroe probes, sees nothing, swings it to West in the left corner.

Lin contests hard.

West forces it.

Brick.

The shot clanks off.

But Ender—boxed in by Malik and Gibson—barely jumps... and still gets above both.

Double-handed putback slam.

Bang.

Mistfoxes 9–0.

Only 1 minute and 5 seconds have ticked off the clock.

Coach Crawford, stone-faced, calls timeout.

He doesn’t make any substitutions—it’s only been a minute. Pulling starters now would be a statement. Maybe too strong.

Instead, he calmly repeats the same lines:

"Get back faster. Stay composed. On offense—stay patient. Work for the shot."

Coming out of the timeout, the Roarers finally break the ice with their first bucket, snapping the scoreless drought. It’s not Ryan’s doing, though—Malik and Kamara connect for a slick floater in the paint.

The Mistfoxes, unfazed, come right back with another fast break.

The Roarers dig in defensively, and this time, Monroe’s layup rims out.

Malik snags the board, and for the first time, the Roarers hold their ground—morale surging.

But that spark doesn’t translate to touch. The Roarers’ shots are ice-cold tonight, and the Mistfoxes, post-timeout, aren’t exactly scorching either.

A few back-and-forth possessions later, it’s 13–4, Mistfoxes.

Ryan’s stat line? Still zeroes across the board.

The Mistfoxes push the pace again, exploiting their speed. Gibson, struggling to keep up, becomes a glaring weak link. His matchup, a wiry forward, blows past him with ease and glides in for a layup.

On the bench, a couple of assistant coaches huddle around Coach Crawford.

"This pace is draining them," one mutters. "Gibson’s lagging. Malik... maybe has a little more left."

Crawford scowls. He knows.

Gibson’s 37. Malik’s 36.

They can’t keep chasing the Mistfoxes’ young legs forever.

"We’ll give it another one or two possessions," Crawford says.

Right on cue, Kamara bricks a turnaround jumper in the post.

Ender skies for the rebound. Another outlet. Another break.

The Roarers hustle back—everyone gets into position... except Gibson.

He’s late again. His man sees daylight and takes it.

Drives right past, cuts to the rim. Malik slides over, but it’s too late—acrobatic reverse layup, off the glass, good.

15–4.

Crawford’s had enough. He calls timeout, the clock frozen at 8:11.

He subs in Sloan for Gibson.

"Crash the glass," Crawford orders.

Sloan nods.

Buzzer. Timeout ends.

Ryan takes the ball, drives into the paint, drawing Bayne and a second defender.

He kicks it out to Lin, who’s found daylight in the corner.

Catch. Release.

Swish.

A clean three. The Roarers are back within single digits—15–7.

On the way back, Lin goes for a high-five.

Ryan lifts his hand, but suddenly pauses.

[CONGRATULATIONS: 100 CAREER ASSISTS – MILESTONE ACHIEVED]

He blinks.

Wait—100 assists counts as a milestone?

Didn’t know that.

Lin, noticing his hesitation, slaps his hand anyway. "You good?"

"Yeah,fine," Ryan mutters, already jogging back on D—eyes flicking to the system interface:

[100-ASSIST MILESTONE BONUS: NIGHT OF THE THREE]

[Tonight, you’re a sharpshooter from deep—locked-in focus, silky release, and ice in your veins. Based on April 5, 2017, OKC vs. Memphis Grizzlies—Westbrook’s career-best three-point night: 45 PTS, 10 AST, 9 REB, 8-of-13 from three at 61.5%. Rain it down.]

Threes, huh?

Ryan’s lips curl into a sly grin.

Then the Roarers dug in.

Another defensive stand—West bricked a three, and as Malik and Ender wrestled for position under the rim, Sloan came flying in from the weak side, snatching the rebound like a hawk swooping on prey.

Ryan brought the ball across halfcourt, eyes scanning, Bayne still shadowing him. The same matchup. The same smothering defense.

Ryan’s game has always been about slashing to the hoop, his mid-range jumper a secondary weapon, and his three-point shooting—well, let’s just say it’s been inconsistent.

After bricking a three earlier, Bayne plays him soft, sagging just enough to dare him to shoot.

Ryan eyes the rim, the distance feeling almost intimate, like the hoop’s whispering his name.

Without hesitation, he rises for a pull-up three.

Bayne lunges at the last second, arm outstretched, but it’s too late.

The ball carves a perfect arc through the air.

Swish.

15–10. The Roarers were back within five.

Ryan held his hands out in front of him, admiring them like a sculptor admiring his tools. That release... it felt effortless. Clean. Pure.

So this is what Steph Curry must feel like on one of those nights?

He flashed a grin and held up three fingers as he jogged back on defense.

That triple wasn’t just a bucket—it was a signal flare.

The comeback had begun.

From there, the tide shifted. Slowly, methodically, the Roarers chipped away at the deficit.

Lin knocked down a midrange pull-up. Malik got loose on a roll for a two-handed dunk. Kamara bullied his way to the rim for a layup through contact.

The Mistfoxes, rattled, can’t find their earlier rhythm.

When Ryan drains his second three, Bayne’s done playing games. No more sagging—he’s glued to Ryan’s hip, contesting every breath.

But Ryan, fueled by the system’s "Night of the Three" bonus, isn’t locked into chucking from deep.

If the shot’s not there, he’s calling for picks, weaving through handoffs, or bullying his way to the rim with that signature explosiveness.

Each possession feels like a statement, a refusal to let the Mistfoxes’ early run define the game.

As the first quarter winds down, the Roarers have turned a lopsided affair into a dogfight.

The buzzer sounds with the Mistfoxes clinging to a 35–34 lead.

From trailing by as many as 11, the Roarers are now just one point back, and the momentum’s squarely in their corner.

Ryan, who played every second of the quarter, is electric: 5-of-6 from the field, 2-of-3 from three, and a perfect 2-for-2 from the line for 14 points, already in double figures. Add two assists and a rebound, and he’s flirting with a monster stat line.

As he jogs to the bench, the system’s milestone bonus still hums in his mind, that 8-of-13 three-point clinic from Westbrook’s legendary night against Memphis fueling his confidence.