Chapter 402: Battle for the Throne (5)
Late at night on the streets of Los Angeles, Malone wandered around for a long time before finally finding the place.
“This damn spot is way too hard to find!”
The moment he stepped into the gym, Malone couldn’t help complaining.
“Can’t be helped. I spent ages looking for this training facility too.”
Durant, who was in the middle of shooting drills, smiled when he saw Malone come in.
“Didn’t I tell you not to bother coming? I’ll head back myself after I’m done practicing.”
“I couldn’t sleep anyway, so I figured I’d keep you company. Brought you something to eat too.”
Malone casually shook the paper bag in his hand.
“I got you a nutrition meal. It’s too late to order delivery at this hour. Eat a bit once you’re done.”
Looking at the paper bag, a warm feeling surged through Durant.
Barring any surprises, he would be leaving Sacramento once the season ended. Even knowing that, Malone still took care of him and protected him as he always had. In Durant’s eyes, Malone had already done more than enough.
“You just like pushing yourself too hard.”
Malone sat down and motioned for Durant to come over.
“Keeping yourself this tense isn’t a good thing right now.”
“I don’t really have a choice.”
Durant casually tossed the ball aside and sat down next to Malone.
“Ever since Butler got injured, I just don’t feel confident.”
In front of Malone, Durant finally voiced the worries he’d been keeping buried.
Everyone thought the Kings were Durant’s team now, but Durant knew better. Within the team, Butler was actually more important than he was.
That natural leadership, that ruthless drive forged from clawing his way up from the bottom—those were qualities a true team leader had to have.
Now that Butler was down, all the pressure landed squarely on Durant’s shoulders, weighing him down so heavily that he’d grown noticeably quieter lately.
“Jimmy going down was only a matter of time.”
Malone stretched, speaking in a casual tone.
“With his physical condition and his potential, he really shouldn’t have made it this far.”
At this point, the basketball world had long developed a highly refined talent evaluation system.
With Butler’s raw physical attributes, he never should have reached his current standing.
Yet through sheer toughness and willpower, he forced his way up to where he was now.
A mortal chYilunging the gods—no matter how heroic the effort, falling was inevitable.
After chatting for a while, Malone stood up.
“Remember to get back early and rest. That’s an order!” Malone said, emphasizing every word.
“Got it!”
Durant opened the paper bag in his hand, pulled out the meal, and started eating.
“It’ll be fine.”
Watching Malone’s departing figure, Durant murmured softly, so quietly only he could hear.
“Everything will be fine.”
...
...
“DeMarcus Cousins charges into the paint and pulls down the rebound! Oh—what’s going on? Cousins is down!”
As the commentator cried out in shock, Cousins—who had just grabbed the rebound in traffic—suddenly collapsed to the floor upon landing, without any contact.
“Medic! Medic!”
The instant Malone saw Cousins fall, he shouted.
A non-contact fall was never a simple injury.
The medical staff rushed onto the court and quickly examined him.
“We can basically confirm it—his Achilles tendon is ruptured!”
The moment those words were spoken, the previously noisy arena fell dead silent.
Even the Lakers players nearby fell quiet.
“Damn it!”
Durant cursed as he watched Cousins being carried off the court.
“Greg, you’re up!”
After a brief moment of shock, Malone immediately made his decision.
At center, the Kings’ rotation mainly consisted of Cousins and Oden. As for Zubac, he was still too raw to be used.
“Alright!”
Oden responded in his deep voice, standing up to warm up before checking in.
Malone constantly adjusted his rotations based on the opponent.
In the previous round against the Warriors, whose interior was weak, Malone dared to roll out a wing-heavy lineup.
But against the Lakers, with Davis anchoring the paint, that approach wouldn’t work. The interior needed a true big man holding it down.
Once Oden stepped onto the court, the Kings’ rhythm immediately stabilized.
After so many years with the team, Oden’s physical abilities had inevitably declined.
Fortunately, with years of experience, his game had grown increasingly steady. With Oden anchoring the paint, there were rarely any problems.
“One goes down, another comes right in.”
Watching Oden control the interior, Davis took a deep breath, a trace of despair creeping in.
Even as one of the league’s top big men, Davis had his weaknesses.
To improve his mobility, Davis kept his weight in an in-between range—heavy for a forward, light for a center. This allowed him to pair speed with the ability to battle inside.
But that advantage was only relative.
Against a massive center like Oden, Davis’s interior skill set simply couldn’t be fully utilized.
“They know exactly how we play. They came prepared.”
James said quietly, eyes burning as he stood beside Davis.
Since joining the Lakers, James had clearly felt his competitive level beginning to decline.
Even though he could still maintain a high level of play, it was nothing like his prime. Fifteen years in the league had taken their toll.
That was why this season, James had started transitioning, handing over part of the offensive burden to Davis while lying in wait.
He was saving his strength for the right moment.
This game against the Kings didn’t seem like the best time for one last all-out push.
And James’s approach wasn’t subtle. Others around the league had noticed as well, and someone as sharp as Malone had prepared for it in advance.
In the previous two rounds, Malone had deliberately reduced the minutes of big centers like Jokić, all in preparation for limiting Davis.
Even with Cousins sidelined, Malone still had cards left to play.
“Show me what you’ve got, Greg.”
Malone murmured to himself as he watched Oden on the court.
“You’re not willing to give up either, are you? This is your last chance.”
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