Basketball Soul System: I Got Westbrook's MVP Powers in Another World! Chapter 65 :He Lifted Her Into a Dunk

The Skills Challenge erupted with music and strobing lights. Four stations awaited: Beyond Dribble Labyrinth, Laser Pass Grid, Quick Shot Carousel, and Final Finish(Layup or Slam).

Scoring was key this year, not speed—a change the emcee credited to Christian Powell, the ABA’s 39-year-old veteran point guard.

Last year, Powell—also a Skills Challenge participant—exploited a loophole in the rules during the shooting round, carelessly tossing the ball to the floor in pursuit of speed, which earned him boos and a disqualification.

The emcee grinned at him now. "Powell, new rules this year because of you—points, not ti."

Powell, all easy confidence, shrugged. "Guess I’ll play for real tonight."

Powell’s team took the court first.

Ryan leaned in slightly, eyes on the court. "Watch how they do it. It’s simple."

Chloe smirked, not missing a beat. "Sure—simple for you."

The first station was the Beyond Dribble Labyrinth—a shifting maze of retractable poles, spinning arms, and pressure-triggered traps. Players had 30 seconds to weave from baseline to baseline. Finish within ti, earn 20 points. Go over, lose one point per second.

For pros—especially a seasoned All-Star like Powell—it was a breeze. He glided through the maze in just over 14 seconds, his ball control sharp, footwork clinical. Twenty points on the board.

Next up: the Laser Pass Grid.

Nine moving targets flashed across narrow windows and pop-up markers. Players had 30 seconds to hit as many as they could. Each hit was worth anywhere from 3 to 10 points depending on difficulty and timing.

Powell didn’t miss a single one. His passes—chest, bounce, quick snap throws—were laser-precise. A perfect 40.

Station three: the Quick Shot Carousel.

Ten balls, pre-set and ready. Thirty seconds. Five mid-range attempts from the free-throw line, each worth two points; five corner threes, each worth three.

Powell stepped to the stripe, calm and focused this ti—not like last year, when he chucked balls to the floor just to beat the clock.

He drained four from mid-range, then hustled to the corner. Three threes splashed clean through, two rimd out.

The final event: the Final Finish.

One shot at the rim—10 points for a layup, 20 for a dunk.

Misses were fine—players could try again as long as ti remained.

This station existed purely for the crowd to see a dunk.

Powell didn’t hesitate. He took two steps and soared into a smooth two-handed slam, the rim rattling as the crowd lit up.

Ryan leaned closer to Chloe, flashing his usual grin. "Know how this thing works?"

Chloe gave the court a once-over, brows raised. "Looks simple enough... but I’m not promising anything."

"It’s just for fun," Ryan said, voice easy. "No pressure."

After Christian Powell wrapped up his run, it was his fan teammate’s turn—a nervous, lanky kid with shaky hands. But the crowd was with him all the way, cheering louder with every move.

What had looked like child’s play for the pros turned out to be a real gauntlet for an ordinary guy.

Jalen Hardell’s team followed, the pro carving through with flair, while his fan teammate scraped by with crowd support.

Shael Grant-Alexis, the Vega Tigers’ hotown hero, pushed hard—his fan partner clearly had so basketball chops and held up well under pressure.

The stands shook with Tigers fans hungry for a win after Frye’s MVP miss last night.

Then it was Team Iron City’s turn.

Ryan took the floor.

The Beyond Dribble Labyrinth was a breeze; he dodged poles and traps in 16 seconds, his crossover slick, earning 20 points.

The Laser Pass Grid saw him fire crisp passes—a chest pass for a high-value target, a bounce pass nailing a flasher—piling up points with ease.

In the Quick Shot Carousel, he sank four mid-range shots and two corner threes, his jumper smooth, the crowd chanting his na.

The Final Finish was his mont—he soared for a one-handed dunk that rattled the rim and sent the arena into chaos. He wrapped up strong, nowhere near the top of the leaderboard, but it didn’t matter. This was all about fun.

Then ca Chloe.

She was the only woman in the entire challenge, and all eyes locked on her as she stepped forward.

Ryan tossed her a grin. "You got this."

Her first station—the Beyond Dribble Labyrinth—was shaky but brave. A couple stumbles, one close call with a spinning arm, but she made it through.

In the Laser Pass Grid, she found so rhythm, landing solid hits between narrow gaps.

At the shooting round, she struggled, but managed to sink one mid-range shot, drawing a wave of supportive cheers.

Then ca the Final Finish.

The layup station.

One try. Missed.

Second attempt—off the rim.

Third—just short.

Each miss pulled a louder gasp from the crowd, but they didn’t give up.

They clapped, chanted her na. Chloe set her jaw, fighting the frustration flashing in her eyes.

Ryan couldn’t take it anymore.

He broke from the sideline, sprinted to her.

"Chloe!" he shouted.

She turned, breath caught. "What"

"I’m dunking you," he said simply.

He scooped her up under the basket, hands firm around her waist, lifting her like she weighed nothing. The crowd scread. Chloe held the ball tight, extended her arms—and slamd it ho.

Twenty points.

The rim rattled. The arena exploded.

Replays. Thunderous cheers.

No whistle. No foul.

This was entertainnt. And the emcee knew gold when he saw it.

"That’s a highlight," he bood into the mic. "You’ll see that dunk everywhere tomorrow!"

The Zentron Celestial Arena thrumd with aftershocks, its neon lights painting Vega City’s night sky as the Skills Challenge wrapped up.

The crowd’s roar lingered, eighteen thousand voices echoing off the jumbotron flashing final scores.

Each team’s points—pro and fan combined—crowned the victor.

Christian Powell had blazed through the stations with veteran precision, posting the highest individual score, but his fan partner’s shaky performance pulled them down.

The championship went to Shael Grant-Alexis and his fan teammate, their combined points nosing out the rest.

Shael, the Vega Tigers’ hotown hero, strode to center court, hoisting the silver basketball trophy with his grinning partner. The arena exploded, especially the Tigers fans, their cheers a raw surge of redemption after Frye’s MVP loss in last night’s Rising Stars ga. For a "just for fun" event, Shael’s victory felt like a Vegas coronation, his grin outshining the Strip’s glow.

Ryan and Chloe, dragged down by her lower score, finished dead last.

Chloe stood courtside, her ruby pendant catching the neon light, her smile tinged with regret. "Sorry I tanked us," she said softly.

Ryan shrugged, "It’s just a ga, Chloe. You had fun, right?"

Her mind flashed to his hands gripping her waist, lifting her high for that rim-rattling dunk, the crowd’s roar swallowing her surprise. Her cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading as she t his gaze.

"Yeah," she said, smiling shyly. "I did."

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