Maki Shinichi's heart sank to the bottom.
That tyrant called Makino Juro… had finally started using his teammates.
If the previous Juro had been an indestructible blade—
Then the current Shohoku was a war machine armed with nuclear weapons.
The next two minutes became hell all over again.
Maki Shinichi pushed himself to the limit, using "Resonance" to forcibly link the entire team together. Every single point came at an enormous cost.
Kiyota Nobunaga was running so hard he nearly threw up. Jin Soichiro's legs were trembling.
Meanwhile, on Shohoku's side, Makino Juro transformed into the mastermind behind the board.
Using the Heavenly Emperor Eye, he dismantled defenses. Using overwhelming pressure, he drew double-teams.
And then that orange basketball would always arrive perfectly in the hands of Rukawa Kaede, Mitsui Hisashi—even Sakuragi Hanamichi.
In the stands, Fujima's gaze lost focus.
"Control…"
"He controls the enemy's fear… and his teammates' talent as well."
So this was Makino Juro's true strength?
Turning everyone into pieces on his chessboard.
56:38.
Maki Shinichi dribbled past half-court, his vision already blurry, sweat stinging his eyes.
"This possession… has to go in!!"
Burning through the last scraps of his life force, he charged forward like a wounded lion.
He slammed past Miyagi, powered through Rukawa, and drove straight into the paint.
"Not happening!!" Sakuragi Hanamichi's giant palm blotted out the sky.
"Get… in there!!"
Maki twisted his body midair, barely evading the block as he tossed the ball toward the hoop.
A ridiculously difficult double-clutch layup.
A shot carrying the last shred of Kainan's pride.
The ball bounced once on the rim.
Twice…
The entire arena held its breath.
Kiyota Nobunaga had even dropped to his knees, praying desperately.
However—
Just as the ball was about to fall through the net, a slender hand suddenly appeared above the rim.
It wasn't a block.
It was a snatch.
Like plucking an apple off a tree, Juro casually grabbed the still-bouncing basketball out of the air with one hand.
Goaltending?
No.
The ball had already completely left the cylinder.
This was absolute aerial dominance.
A humiliation of both the rules and physics itself.
Maki Shinichi stumbled after landing, staring blankly at the descending figure.
Makino Juro landed silently with the ball in one hand, not even sparing him a glance.
Then casually tossed the ball backward.
"It's over."
His voice was cold as ice.
At that moment, Maki felt something inside his spine snap.
He stared at the back of the player wearing jersey number 16.
"Monster…"
Maki Shinichi's knees gave out as he collapsed onto the hardwood.
This time, he no longer had the strength to stand.
"Haah…"
Makino Juro took a deep breath, exhaling scorching air.
At the edge of his vision, gray-white static flickered wildly—
Like an old television with a failing signal.
His brain was oxygen-starved. The system was sounding alarms.
Across his retina, a scarlet countdown pulsed violently.
Inside Makino Juro's cold, godlike heterochromatic eyes—
The golden glow symbolizing absolute domination suddenly flickered.
Like a lightbulb about to explode from unstable voltage.
"Hm?"
On the floor, Maki Shinichi—who had been wheezing like a broken bellows—suddenly looked up.
He sensed it.
That tyrannical pressure crushing his soul, the force that had kept even his fingers frozen in fear…
Had weakened.
The suffocating sensation receded like the tide.
Sweat and tears mixed across Maki's face, leaving him looking like a drowned dog.
Yet within those dead-gray eyes, the tiny flame of ambition reignited with a whoosh.
"Your breathing… is uneven."
"So your stamina really is your fatal flaw."
Maki's voice was hoarse, carrying the madness of someone who had survived disaster.
Bracing himself against the floor, the muscles in his thighs screamed in agony.
But he still forced himself upright.
Like a mountain blasted apart halfway through, only to be crudely stitched back together.
Makino Juro remained expressionless, trying to maintain his cool facade—
But his body felt as heavy as molten lead.
The stamina drain from the Template plus Zone was still too absurd.
His awareness was god-tier.
But his hardware was civilian-grade.
Activating Zone was like installing a Ferrari engine into a tractor.
Sure, it could run.
But the engine could blow at any second.
"Maki…"
Beside him, Jin Soichiro and Kiyota Nobunaga stared at their captain rising back to his feet.
The fear in their eyes instantly transformed into fanaticism.
The invincible Emperor Maki… had returned!
"BEEEEEP!"
The buzzer screamed, forcibly severing the suffocating tension on the court.
"Shohoku requests a substitution!"
Coach Anzai raised the signboard, his glasses reflecting light sharply.
The old man had seen through it.
Makino Juro—the guy who always looked lazy and carefree—had already pushed himself beyond the limit.
The score gap was large enough already.
There was no point forcing it further.
"Juro out. Kogure in."
The entire arena exploded.
"What the hell?!"
"They subbed out their ace?!"
"Shohoku's gone insane! Why not just finish them off?!"
"No, wait… look at Makino Juro's face. He's pale as fresh paint."
"So even monsters have a mana bar? I thought he was an infinite-energy machine."
Makino Juro didn't look at the scoreboard.
Didn't look at the opponents either.
"Haa…"
He slowly exhaled and casually shut down Zone.
His eyes returned to their lazy black color.
The terrifying oppressive aura blanketing the entire arena vanished instantly.
The air came back to life.
The audience finally dared to breathe loudly again, as though a boulder crushing their chests had finally been removed.
Makino Juro slowly walked to the sidelines and slapped hands with the nervous Kogure Kiminobu, whose palms were drenched in sweat.
"I'll leave the rest to you, Glasses."
"L-Leave it to me?"
Kogure's hand shook as he adjusted his glasses. Looking at Kainan's murderous lineup, he swallowed hard.
"I-I'll do my best."
Makino Juro walked to the end of the bench, grabbed Ayako's towel, and draped it over his head.
"Battery's dead. Gonna rest for a bit."
The moment he finished speaking, he collapsed into his chair—
And instantly fell asleep.
There was even a faint snoring sound.
Ayako: "…"
The entire audience: "…"
Brother, this is the finals. Are you treating this place like a luxury spa resort?!
However, with that cheat-code monster finally offline, the momentum on the court instantly flipped.
"RAAAAHHHHHH!!"
Maki Shinichi threw his head back and roared.
The humiliation, fear, and fury he had bottled up for an entire quarter erupted completely.
The "god" who had beaten him down relentlessly was gone.
And now—
This was a battlefield for mortals.
And in this fish pond…
He, Maki Shinichi, was the only shark.
"Counterattack!!"
Maki charged forward with the ball like a black lightning bolt.
He didn't have Makino Juro's flashy moves.
Nor did he possess any future-seeing hacks.
But he had one talent Makino Juro could never match.
A body forged through endless training—
A monstrous physique cast from steel itself!
An absolute stat monster tempered through countless days of relentless effort!
Which meant his pseudo-Zone could last slightly longer than Makino Juro's.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Each dribble slammed against the floor like a hammer pounding against Shohoku's hearts.
Rukawa Kaede stepped up to meet him, his eyes ice-cold.
"You're not getting past."
Having just reached the threshold of "Wildness," Rukawa now resembled a red fox with its fur standing on end, radiating dangerous energy.
"MOVE!!"
Maki Shinichi didn't slow down at all.
He simply lowered his shoulder and bulldozed straight through.
Simple.
Violent.
Unreasonable.
BANG!
A muffled explosion echoed out.
Rukawa felt as though he'd been hit head-on by an out-of-control dump truck.
His chest tightened violently as he staggered backward.
The gap in strength…
Was on an entirely different level.
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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