NBA: GIANT KILLING

On the Aina University bench, the mood had shifted. Though they were still trailing by six points, the weight that had hung over them at the start of the game had lifted. There was energy now, a fire that hadn't been there before.

Their confidence had a source—Oliver.

"Keep up this momentum. We can overtake them. Just keep working with Oliver!"

Coach Boeheim's voice carried across the huddle, but there was no urgency, no desperation. There was no need for complex strategies or last-minute adjustments.

The plan was simple.

Let Oliver take control.

The whistle blew, and the timeout ended. As both teams stepped onto the court, a strange contrast emerged—Georgia Tech, despite their lead, looked tense, their movements stiff. Meanwhile, Aina University, still trailing, looked relaxed.

Something had changed.

Chris Bosh felt it too.

Ever since his declaration, his movements had sharpened, his instincts honed to their peak. At the start of the game, he never expected he would be phshed to the brim. He never exerted this much effort before. Aina University wasn't a team he had taken seriously. But now, pride and competition demanded otherwise.

This was March Madness. This was survival. And if he didn't play at full intensity now, he might regret it for the rest of his life.

And when the man who would one day be known as King of the Dragons played at full intensity—his presence was suffocating.

(Googled it, Bosh was indeed called as such. Long Wang. Kinda cool tbh. A bit chūnibyō though haha.)

Against Reeves, Bosh was a nightmare. He outmaneuvered him for easy baskets, and on defense, he erased him entirely, clogging passing lanes and denying any chance for an easy bucket. But his impact wasn't limited to Reeves alone.

Bosh was everywhere.

Every gap, every loose ball, every moment of hesitation—he was there. The difference in individual talent between Georgia Tech and Aina University became brutally clear.

For a stretch, Oliver was the only one keeping Aina University alive.

But that didn't discourage him.

It excited him.

"No wonder they call you King of the Dragons," Oliver murmured, eyes alight with something fierce. "But right now, I'm stronger."

If his teammates couldn't keep up, that was fine.

He would do it alone.

After all, he had Russell Westbrook's template—the blueprint of a relentless, MVP-caliber triple-double machine.

He had been patient. He had played within the flow of the game.

Now?

Now, he was done waiting.

The next time Oliver touched the ball, there was no hesitation. No looking for the open man.

This time, he attacked.

Wilson and Jack, sensing the shift, closed in from both sides, their arms outstretched to contain him.

Oliver feinted, shifting his entire body to the left, a movement so convincing that both defenders instinctively followed.

But then—

A 180-degree spin.

A blur of motion.

Before Wilson and Jack could recover, Oliver had already slipped past them, a flash of black and gold streaking toward the hoop.

Bosh saw it happening and moved to help.

But Oliver's speed—

It was absurd.

Is this guy on something?

Bosh barely had time to curse before Oliver was gone, his body lifting off the ground, soaring, climbing—

And then—

BOOM!

The rim rattled. The backboard shook.

A dunk.

A statement.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

"OLI!"

"OLIVER! I LOVE YOU!"

"OLIVERRRR! THAT WAS INSANE!"

The crowd exploded.

The spectators had lost count of how many times Oliver had made them leap to their feet.

He was only 5'9"—an underdog by every definition.

But everything about his game defied that label.

Again and again, he tore through defenders, finishing with the kind of athleticism that shouldn't have been possible for someone his size.

And this dunk—this breathtaking, explosive dunk—was the exclamation point.

He wasn't just playing.

He was performing.

"Get every single shot of this!"

Tony, the sports reporter who had been tracking Oliver's rise, practically shouted at his cameraman.

"After we win this game, I'm making a whole highlight reel for Oliver! This is too damn good!"

His voice was electric with certainty.

He already knew.

This wasn't just another game. This wasn't just another performance.

This was a moment.

And Oliver was at the center of it.

But on the Georgia Tech bench, their coach looked like he had swallowed a lemon.

Frustration darkened his face, but there was nothing he could do.

It wasn't that his players weren't trying.

It was that their opponent was simply something else.

Before the game, he had looked at the bracket and smiled when he saw Aina University as their matchup.

Now?

He couldn't even force a small smile.

Ever since the second half started, Oliver had dictated everything.

And now—

The scoreboard was tied. 90-90.

The game was still in the balance.

Georgia Tech had the deeper roster. The better talent. The proven stars.

But Aina University had Oliver.

And Oliver was unstoppable.

A single player was carrying an entire team.

And everyone watching knew—

Without him, Aina University would have been crushed long ago.

But if he were on any other team?

A stronger team? A team with just a little more firepower?

Georgia Tech wouldn't just be struggling.

They'd be finished.

Even so, most analysts still believed Georgia Tech would come out on top.

The reason was simple.

Oliver had been playing at full throttle all game.

Could he really keep this up?

He was small. He didn't look physically imposing. Surely, at some point, fatigue would catch up.

As the game neared its final stretch, the intensity would rise. Players would push themselves beyond their limits.

Would Oliver's body hold up?

Logic said no.

Georgia Tech's lead reporter, David, echoed that sentiment.

"That short little guard is amazing, but in the end, Georgia Tech is still winning this game!"

Tony didn't even look at him.

He just smirked.

"You guys really don't understand this man at all."

Tony had watched Oliver play. He had studied his tendencies, his patterns, his nature.

This 5'9" kid looked fragile. But he wasn't.

He never showed signs of slowing down.

In fact—

He only ever seemed to get stronger.

Minor collisions? They didn't affect him. More often than not, it was his opponents who walked away sore.

Concerns about his stamina?

Please.

Oliver wasn't just fast—he was smart.

He knew exactly when to push, when to conserve, when to accelerate, when to kill.

And now?

Now, he was preparing for the final act.

Tony shook his head, already seeing what was coming.

"Just wait. Reality is about to teach you all a lesson."

*I promised an additional 3 chapters about 2 days ago but I couldn't upload it all so I'm doing double chapters for this week alone. Enjoy!