NBA: GIANT KILLING

Aina University's miracle run had been built on one thing—Oliver.

Every game, every impossible comeback, every moment where they should have crumbled beneath the weight of expectation—it had all led to this.

And now, at the most crucial moment of the season, who else could they turn to?

The air inside the stadium was thick with tension, an electric charge coursing through thousands of spectators. The scoreboard glowed mercilessly: 108-110. Aina was down by two.

Timeout.

Coach Boeheim stood before his players, voice steady, words cutting through the chaos.

"Set screens for him."

There was no hesitation. No discussion. The decision was obvious. If they were going down, they were going down with the ball in Oliver's hands.

On the other side of the court, Georgia Tech's coach barked his own decree.

"Lock him down. If he doesn't touch the ball, he can't save them."

Their plan was clear. Deny him. Smother him. End him.

The players returned to the court, shoulders tense, minds racing.

29 seconds.

Franklin gripped the ball at the inbound line, eyes scanning desperately. The moment the referee handed it to him, Georgia Tech's defense snapped into action.

Bosh shadowed Oliver like a specter, muscled frame moving in perfect sync with his every step. Wherever Oliver went, Bosh followed, cutting off angles, denying space.

The strategy was brutal in its simplicity. Don't let him breathe. Don't let him think. Make someone else take the shot.

Franklin hesitated, trapped in indecision. Georgia Tech had collapsed into the paint, sealing it off like an iron fortress. They weren't even guarding Franklin's three-point shot. They knew—he wasn't the one who would decide this game.

And they were right.

17 seconds.

Oliver saw his opening. With a sudden burst of speed, he juked left, then right, shaking free for the briefest moment. Franklin seized the chance, firing a bullet pass straight into Oliver's hands.

The entire arena seemed to hold its breath.

This was it.

The moment of truth.

The moment where legends are born.

Oliver barely had time to react before the defense collapsed on him.

Bosh. Jack. Wilson. Harris. Neal.

Five defenders.

No space. No path.

His teammates were cut off. The rim might as well have been a mile away.

Five seconds.

Then—explosion.

Oliver spun left. Jack lunged, desperate to cut him off, but he lost him.

A crossover. A lightning cut to the right. Bosh hesitated for a fraction of a second—a fatal mistake.

Oliver surged forward, baiting the defense into the paint. Wilson and Harris stepped in, their arms raising, eyes wide, muscles tensing—

And in that instant—

He vanished.

A step-back. A fadeaway.

Bosh saw it. His instincts screamed. He leaped, arm fully extended.

Oliver had no angle. No sight of the basket.

But he didn't need it.

The shot was pure muscle memory. The thousands of hours spent perfecting this exact motion took over. His fingers brushed the leather one last time as the ball left his hands—

A high-arcing prayer, launched over Bosh's outstretched hand, soaring past the defense, cutting through the air like destiny itself.

Time slowed.

The stadium, the players, the world—everything fell silent.

The ball reached its apex.

Then—

Swish.

The buzzer screamed.

The net snapped.

The game was over.

For a single heartbeat, the silence remained, a stunned pause as the reality of what had just happened sank in.

Then, like a tidal wave crashing upon the shore—chaos.

"HE MADE IT!"

"HOLY SHIT, THAT WAS BLIND!"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE IT—HE HIT THAT OVER BOSH?!"

"OLIVER! OLIVER! OLIVER!"

His name thundered through the stadium, growing louder, drowning out all other sound.

At 5'9", against five defenders, against all logic, he had pulled the impossible from thin air.

Bosh stood there, frozen, staring at the scoreboard as if it had betrayed him. The number glowed mercilessly: 111-110.

Then, finally, he exhaled.

A grin spread across his face.

"You're a nightmare, man."

He truly respected Oliver now. At first, he hadn't taken him seriously. But as the game progressed, Oliver made him play like he never did before.

And even then, he couldn't stop him.

A strong opponent deserves respect.

Oliver grinned. "You played well too. Hope we meet again."

Bosh immediately shook his head. "No, no, no—I never want to face you again!"

The two burst into laughter.

Oliver smiled back, his breath still steady, his heart still pounding in his chest.

"See you in the NBA."

And in that moment, as his teammates swarmed him, as the court drowned in celebration, as the echoes of his shot reverberated into history—

One thing became clear.

This was just the beginning.

__________________________

Later that night, as he returned home, he noticed a figure waiting at his door.

A woman.

Jet-black hair cascading like ink.

Eyes deep, luminous.

Flawless, white skin.

But what stood out the most—

Those endlessly long, snow-white legs.

Then-

She smiled.