Welcome to the NBA.

Han Sen shook his head with a chuckle.

In a way, Luka Dončić wasn't wrong.

The NBA had spent years tweaking its rules to favor offense. The latest 14-second reset on offensive rebounds was just another step in the same direction, much like the old no-hand-checking rule that had once sparked an offensive explosion.

By comparison, European basketball played under FIBA rules was much tougher. A smaller court, no defensive three-second rule, and far more physicality meant scoring in Europe was no easy task.

But hearing this from a rookie?

It was a little much.

Luka had only played a handful of preseason games. He hadn't even stepped onto the court for a regular-season matchup yet, let alone a playoff game.

Still, Jokić wasn't dismissing him.

"He's the most skilled rookie I've ever seen," Jokić mused. "And there's something about him… he's fearless in big moments. Kinda reminds me of you, boss."

Han glanced at Jokić, reading between the lines.

"So, you like him?"

Jokić smiled, neither confirming nor denying.

Though they came from different countries, they were still from the same region, spoke similar languages, shared a common history, and even had similar tastes in food.

It was no surprise they got along.

---

By the time game day arrived, Rocket Mortgage FieldHouse was packed.

Especially outside Han Sen's statue, where fans gathered, snapping photos and reliving the memories.

The statue had been unveiled in August, but not everyone had been there to witness it firsthand.

Some fans even traveled long distances, holding up handwritten banners in support of Han.

Inside the arena, massive "Welcome Home, Emperor" signs filled the stands.

Nothing about the love Cleveland had for him had faded.

If anything, it had only grown stronger.

The moment Han stepped onto the court for warmups, the arena erupted.

The deafening cheers, the energy, the familiar atmosphere—it was just like before.

For years, Han had warmed up with pre-game dunks, hyping up the crowd. But in Cleveland, he had eventually passed that responsibility on to Derrick Jones Jr.

Tonight, though?

With the crowd demanding it—

Han took flight again.

Each dunk sent the arena into a frenzy.

Some fans were even brought to tears, overwhelmed by the moment.

To them, it wasn't just about the spectacle.

Han looked even more effortless than before.

They thought it was nostalgia clouding their perception.

What they didn't realize?

Han had actually gotten stronger.

---

As warmups ended and Han returned to the locker room, the championship ring ceremony setup was already in place.

For Cleveland fans, this night wasn't just about welcoming him back.

It was about celebrating a dynasty.

Dan Gilbert had spared no expense on the rings.

Reports claimed they were on par with the 2015 Warriors' rings, each one costing over a million dollars.

When the lights dimmed and the spotlights hit the stage, Gilbert took the mic.

Ordinarily, owners didn't speak during ring ceremonies.

But this wasn't an ordinary night.

And no one complained.

Because his speech?

It wasn't about himself.

It was about Han Sen.

It was about what he had done for Cleveland.

By the time he finished, the arena wasn't silent—it was roaring.

And when it was finally time to hand out the rings, there was no question who would go first.

Han Sen.

The arena DJ drew out every word, using the same iconic voice that had introduced Han for years.

"Standing at 6-foot-7… a 9-time All-Star… 6-time Finals MVP… 3-time league MVP… 6-time NBA Champion… the Scorer's Table Terminator… the man who rewrote Cleveland's history… the architect of a dynasty… and the one name the entire world will remember—THE EMPEROR—HAN~~ SEN!!"

The LED screens exploded with fireworks, the tribute video rolling on the big screen, flashing through his greatest moments in a Cavaliers uniform.

The crowd wasn't just cheering.

They were thunderous.

They weren't just celebrating a player.

They were honoring a legend.

As the spotlight followed Han, he felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest.

Not nerves. Not pressure.

Just… emotion.

For the first time in years, he felt his eyes sting.

He stood, took in the crowd for a moment, then made his way toward the stage.

Gilbert was waiting, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Thank you for everything," he said.

Han just nodded.

Then Adam Silver stepped forward.

As the commissioner handed over the ring, he also pulled Han in for a brief hug.

This wasn't just about a championship.

Han had changed the league.

He was the reason the NBA's popularity had surged in recent years.

And when Han finally looked down at his ring—

He was genuinely surprised.

His name wasn't in English.

It was in Chinese characters, carefully crafted from diamonds.

A personal touch.

A reminder that no matter where he played, Cleveland still saw him as one of their own.

---

From his seat, Mitchell watched everything unfold.

And suddenly, Sabonis' words from earlier came back to him.

"Han Sen is an impossible existence. We're just lucky to play beside him."

Mitchell sat back, exhaling.

He finally understood.

Han Sen wasn't just a superstar.

He was basketball's greatest enigma.

And tonight, that truth was on full display.

As the ceremony concluded, the Cavaliers' 2017-18 championship banner was raised to the rafters.

Three banners now hung side by side—

2015-16.

2016-17.

2017-18.

The Cleveland Cavaliers Dynasty.

The crowd roared, the energy was infectious, and even the Kings' players couldn't hide the fire in their eyes.

Han Sen had promised them a championship in Sacramento.

But watching three banners go up in Cleveland?

It made them wonder—

Would it just be one championship?

Or would they build a dynasty of their own?

Because with Han Sen leading the way—

Anything was possible.

---

As the championship ring ceremony concluded amid roaring cheers, both teams wrapped up their final warm-ups and headed into the opening introductions.

The Sacramento Kings, as the visiting team, were announced first:

Han Sen, Donovan Mitchell, Jayson Tatum, Domantas Sabonis, and Willie Cauley-Stein.

Lue planned to use Han more at small forward this season, but that didn't mean opening the game with a small-ball lineup.

Just like when Michael Malone kept the Death Lineup as a secret weapon in Cleveland, Lue had a similar strategy in mind.

From Doc Rivers to Malone, Lue's tactical creativity had its limits—but his ability to learn? Unmatched.

The Cleveland Cavaliers countered with their own starting five:

Luka Dončić, George Hill, Robert Covington, Tristan Thompson, and Nikola Jokić.

Cleveland had been dealt an early setback in preseason when their expected starting point guard, Dejounte Murray, suffered a torn right ACL in the very first game—knocking him out for the entire season.

With Murray sidelined and Hill already past his prime, the offensive burden suddenly fell on the shoulders of a rookie—Luka Dončić.

But if anyone expected him to struggle?

They were about to be proven wrong.

Right out of the gate, Dončić made a statement.

Jokić posted up in the low block, drawing in a double team before kicking the ball out to Luka beyond the arc.

Luka sold a convincing pump fake, making Mitchell bite.

Then, with one sharp dribble, he drove into the lane.

His speed wasn't elite, and Sabonis immediately rotated over to help, with Cauley-Stein stepping in from the weak side for extra coverage.

For a split second, it looked like Luka was completely trapped.

And then?

He exploded off the ground.

Through the collapsing defense.

Right into the chest of both Kings' big men.

BANG!

He threw down the dunk with authority.

For a moment, the entire arena froze.

The crowd, the commentators, even some players on the court—all caught off guard.

Just like Jokić had said the night before, Luka's scoring instincts were something special.

People saw the slow first step. The lack of vertical pop.

And underestimated his strength.

Luka wasn't built like a bruiser, but in Europe, he had been bulldozing grown men long before stepping foot in the NBA.

And he wasn't done.

The next time down, Mitchell attacked the rim, but Jokić disrupted his shot at the last second, tipping the ball toward the baseline.

Luka was the first player to react—sprinting back behind the three-point line before anyone else could recover.

Jokić fired a perfect full-court pass.

Luka caught it in stride.

Tatum was already on him.

A full-body contest. Contact in midair.

Didn't matter.

Luka flipped up a reverse floater—and got the and-one.

The rookie was cooking.

Then, as he landed, Luka did something unexpected.

He turned.

Faced Han Sen.

And grabbed his jersey, shaking it with pride.

Like he had something to prove.

Like this was personal.

Han raised an eyebrow.

If he was being honest, he hadn't given Luka much thought before this.

His only impression came from Jokić's words at dinner the night before.

But clearly?

Luka saw things differently.

---

Han had seen this before in "history".

Years ago, Andrew Wiggins had been drafted by the Cavaliers.

Only to be immediately traded for Kevin Love before ever playing a game for them.

And after that?

Every time Wiggins faced Cleveland—every single time—he went off.

Because he wanted to prove the trade was a mistake.

Luka's case?

Almost identical.

A player drafted by Sacramento—but flipped to another team before even putting on their jersey.

And if Jokić's assessment was right, Luka was even hungrier to prove himself than Wiggins ever was.

What's more?

There was something only Han understood—something no one else had thought about.

Luka's jersey number.

Back in Europe, Luka had always worn 77—a tribute to his idol, Greek legend Vassilis Spanoulis, who wore No. 7.

If Sacramento hadn't traded him?

He could've kept that number.

But after being sent to Cleveland?

He had to switch to No. 7.

Because 77 was already off-limits.

Not just for the Grizzlies.

Not just for the Cavaliers.

But for any team Han Sen had ever played for.

Because when he retired—his jersey?

Would be hanging in their rafters.

---

Jokić was the first to react. Without hesitation, he rushed over and pulled Dončić into a firm embrace, his expression unusually serious.

Part of it was loyalty—an instinctive move to shield his former leader from any further provocation. But more than that, Jokić knew exactly what Dončić had just done.

He had poked the bear.

Before this moment, the Cavaliers had set the stage perfectly for an emotional night. The tribute, the cheers, the ring ceremony—it had all but ensured that Han Sen wouldn't go all out against his former team.

Even if Cleveland was stronger on paper, the atmosphere alone should have been enough to secure a smooth opening night win.

But now?

Now, everything had changed.

After years of watching Han dominate the league, after witnessing the downfall of LeBron James and Kevin Durant at his hands, every player in the NBA knew—there was one person you simply didn't provoke.

And yet, Luka Dončić had done exactly that.

Jokić pulled him closer and muttered something in his ear, but Luka didn't seem fazed.

He had spent his entire life proving people wrong. He wasn't just another European prospect—he had dominated in the toughest leagues outside the NBA before he even turned 20.

At 19, he wasn't just a rookie. He was Europe's Chosen One.

And after a strong preseason, he genuinely felt it—the NBA was easier to score in than Europe.

So why hold back?

Why bottle up the frustration of being traded before he even played a game for the Kings?

Why swallow the irritation of watching Han Sen be treated like royalty in Cleveland, while he was still earning his place?

No.

Tonight, he was going to prove he belonged.

Han wasn't the type to get worked up over little things.

But as he crossed half-court, he gave Mitchell a nod, calling for the ball.

And then he pointed.

Clear out.

He wasn't one to overcomplicate things. Over the years, his game had been built around trusting his teammates—empowering them to do what they did best, while he stepped in to handle the toughest shots, the hardest plays.

Simple. Efficient. Effective.

But tonight?

That game plan wasn't going to cut it.

The arena buzzed in anticipation.

Luka Dončić had set the tone early, dazzling the crowd with his scoring. Already, whispers were spreading—was this the player who could one day challenge Han?

Could he be the next Han Sen?

The answer came faster than anyone expected.

With one sharp move, Han shifted left—then exploded right.

Dončić tried to keep up, but his feet weren't quick enough. Han was already at the free-throw line before Luka even turned his hips.

By the time he did, it was already too late.

Han was at the rim.

And standing there—Jokić, arms up, bracing himself.

He knew.

This was going to hurt.

BOOM!

The entire arena gasped as Han elevated and crushed a dunk right over Jokić, sending the seven-footer stumbling back, landing out of bounds.

The Kings' bench exploded.

Rudy Gay waved a towel wildly, yelling something that was probably not suitable for broadcast.

Jokić, still on the floor, glanced toward Luka.

His look said everything.

"This is on you."

And yet, Dončić barely flinched.

Instead, he signaled to George Hill—calling for a screen.

He wasn't backing down.

The crowd roared as Luka took the switch, now staring directly at Han Sen.

Isolation.

He was going right back at him.

The moment was surreal—this wasn't some veteran looking to expose a rookie.

This was a teenager challenging a six-time champion head-on.

Luka dribbled—right side hesitation.

Han stayed in front.

A hard cross into a step-back—his signature move, a combination of elite ball-handling and footwork.

Han didn't bite.

Luka reset, attacking left—quick change of pace, lowering his shoulder into Han's chest, looking for contact.

He got it.

But instead of knocking Han off balance—

He stopped.

It felt like running into a brick wall.

And before he could react—

Han was already above him.

A shadow in his path.

Then—

SMACK!

The block sent Dončić sprawling to the ground, the ball flying into the third row.

Some fans winced, others stood in shock.

Even the Cavaliers' bench looked stunned.

On the broadcast, Shaquille O'Neal couldn't contain himself.

"WELCOME TO THE NBA, LUKA!"

The arena erupted.

Dončić sat there for a moment, blinking up at the lights.

Then—he grinned.

Because if nothing else—

This was exactly the kind of battle he had been waiting for.