Chapter 6

The scoreboard showed a solid lead for his team, but Brian wasn't satisfied. Winning wasn't enough—he wanted to crush any remaining hope the opposing team had. He wanted them to leave the court knowing they never stood a chance.

As soon as possession returned to him, the defenders immediately tightened their marking. This time, two players rushed at him, trying to trap him near the perimeter, arms flailing, desperate to stop his rhythm. Brian smirked slightly.

Do they really think this will work on me?

With a subtle shoulder movement, he faked a pass to the left, just enough to make them react. As expected, both defenders shifted instinctively, trying to cut off what they thought was an imminent pass. That was all Brian needed.

In the blink of an eye, he shifted his dribble and burst to the right, gliding effortlessly past them. The two defenders stumbled over themselves, unable to adjust in time. The crowd erupted with excitement, and the sound of the gym reached a deafening level.

Now, only one defender stood between him and the basket. A tall, muscular center with an imposing presence, arms raised high, ready to contest any shot attempt. Brian could have simply passed the ball to an open teammate, but that wasn't his style. He wasn't here just to play—he was here to put on a show.

He dribbled with perfect rhythm, his eyes locked onto his opponent. The center hesitated for just a fraction of a second, shifting his weight slightly backward, bracing for a drive. That was his mistake.

Brian stopped abruptly, rising ever so slightly as if preparing to shoot. The center took the bait, launching himself into the air with full force, arms fully extended, hoping to block the shot.

But Brian never intended to shoot.

Instead, he took a calm step to the side, watching as the defender soared past him, completely helpless. The moment the big man landed off balance, Brian casually elevated for an uncontested mid-range jumper. The ball arced smoothly through the air before sinking perfectly through the net.

Swish.

The sound was crisp, satisfying—like a final nail in the coffin.

Jogging back on defense, Brian barely contained his amusement. Too easy.

The opposing team was unraveling. Their strategies were failing, and frustration was setting in. They tried everything—double teams, full-court pressure, even physical play to slow him down. But it didn't matter. Brian adapted instantly, countering every tactic with an even more dazzling display of skill.

When they crowded him in the paint, he spun effortlessly and threw a no-look behind-the-back pass to a wide-open teammate. When they shoved and bumped him aggressively, he absorbed the contact and still finished the layup with impeccable touch.

The opposing point guard, drenched in sweat and visibly frustrated, approached Brian during a brief stoppage.

— Do you play like this against everyone? — he asked, breathless, hands on his knees.

Brian chuckled.

— No. Normally, I take it easier.

The guard's expression darkened.

When the whistle blew for play to resume, the same player charged at Brian aggressively, lunging for a steal. But Brian had seen it coming. With a flawless spin move and a quick between-the-legs dribble, he left the defender grasping at air, nearly tripping over himself in the process.

Gasps rippled through the gym.

At this point, Brian wasn't just dominating a game—he was putting on a masterclass. The crowd wasn't just watching a performance; they were witnessing something unforgettable.

As the final minutes ticked away, Brian decided to close the game in style. He wanted a play that would be talked about for weeks.

On the last possession, he snatched the defensive rebound and exploded into a full sprint down the court. The defense scrambled to set up, but they were too late. Three players threw themselves at him in desperation, but Brian moved like a phantom.

The first defender lunged, and Brian smoothly went behind his back with the dribble, evading him like he wasn't even there.

The second defender was quicker, trying to cut off his path, but Brian countered with a lightning-fast crossover, shifting directions so fluidly that the defender lost his footing and collapsed onto the floor.

The third defender, realizing what was happening, hesitated for a second. Big mistake. Brian sold him a subtle fake, just a flick of his wrist, and the poor guy jumped in the wrong direction, completely fooled.

Now, only the basket remained.

Brian took a final, powerful dribble, gripping the ball tightly, and launched himself into the air.

He didn't just jump—he soared.

The gym seemed to freeze for a moment. His body lifted higher than anyone thought possible, legs fully extended, arm cocked back, preparing for the inevitable destruction.

Then, with unrelenting force, he slammed the ball through the hoop.

The rim rattled violently. The backboard trembled. The impact was so powerful that for a split second, it felt as if the entire gymnasium was shaking.

The crowd erupted.

Some fans stood with their hands on their heads in disbelief. Others screamed at the top of their lungs. Even the commentators were speechless.

Brian landed softly, taking a few slow steps back, his gaze fixed on the devastated opposing team. His expression remained calm, but his smirk returned.

— That was fun. But you guys never had a chance.

Silence from his opponents. They knew he was right.

The final buzzer sounded.

Absolute victory.

And for Brian Moser, it was just another day.