Chapter 9

The coach kept his gaze fixed on Brian, waiting for some kind of reaction, but all he got was a smirk filled with confidence.

— "The last one wasn't either," Brian replied, adjusting the tape on his fingers. "And look how that ended for them."

The coach sighed but didn't press further. He knew that trying to instill caution in Brian was useless. Still, there was something different about this game. The opponent wasn't just a strong team—they were the reigning league champions. A disciplined, technical, and experienced group. If there was ever a real challenge for Brian, this would be his first true test.

Practices were intense, as always. The team did their best to keep up with Brian's pace, but he was on another level. His agility was absurd, his ball control flawless, his shots seemed calculated with pinpoint precision. While the others were sweating and gasping for air, he barely looked winded.

During a simulated play, Brian received a pass at the perimeter and, before the defender could react, executed a lightning-quick crossover, making the opponent stumble. Without hesitation, he drove to the basket. The opposing center, a strong player with long arms, leaped to contest the layup, but Brian didn't hesitate. He adjusted mid-air, passed the ball behind his back, and slammed it down with force.

The gym went silent for a second before the teammates erupted into shouts. Even in practice, the move was unreal.

The coach whistled, calling everyone's attention.

— "That's the kind of intensity I want tonight!" He pointed at Brian. "Play like that!"

Brian smirked, but to him, that was still nothing.

That night, the gym was packed. The game was highly anticipated, and the stands buzzed with excitement. The opposing team was already on the court, warming up, and Brian observed them with a calculated look. He didn't see individuals—he saw pieces on a chessboard. Every player had a pattern, a rhythm, a hidden weakness. And he was already mapping them all out.

The coach gathered the team before the game began.

— "They're strong, disciplined, and they know how to play as a unit. If we go in disorganized, they'll run us over. Stay calm, follow the plays, and—"

— "I'll handle it," Brian interrupted, spinning the ball on his finger.

His teammates exchanged glances, some chuckling nervously. The coach frowned.

— "It's not just about you, Brian. Basketball is a team game."

— "I know," he shrugged. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm the best player on this court. So if things get tough, just give me the ball and watch."

The coach wanted to argue, but the referee was already calling the teams to the court. There was no more time for debate.

The whistle blew, and the ball went up.

Brian didn't wait to see who won the tip-off. He was already positioning himself to receive the pass as soon as his team gained possession. The second the ball landed in the point guard's hands, he exploded into motion, receiving the pass and racing down the right wing.

The first defender stepped up to pressure him, but Brian was merciless. A sharp crossover sent the defender stumbling, and before he could recover, Brian had already accelerated towards the hoop. The opposing center stepped up, trying to cut him off, but Brian, without slowing down, leaped and twisted in the air, finishing with a perfect reverse layup.

First points on the board.

The opposing team immediately realized this wouldn't be a normal game.

Brian played as if he were two steps ahead of everyone else. He anticipated passes, read movements before they even happened, and punished any mistake with a ruthless play. With every possession, he dictated the pace, and the defense always seemed a second behind.

But they weren't champions for nothing. By the middle of the first half, they began to adapt. The screens became more physical, the double teams came faster, and the lead Brian had built started to shrink.

This was exactly the kind of challenge he wanted.

In a fast break, Brian received the ball near the perimeter, but this time, two defenders closed in at once. Any other player would hesitate, maybe pass the ball. Brian? He saw an opportunity.

A quick between-the-legs dribble pulled both defenders to the left, and just as they bit on the fake, he spun in the opposite direction, slipping past them as if they were nothing more than training cones. He sprinted toward the hoop, the last defender waiting to contest him.

But Brian had already decided how this play would end.

With an explosive leap, he soared with force, bringing the ball high above the rim before slamming it down with a dunk that made the entire backboard shake.

The gym erupted.

Brian landed and locked eyes with the opposing bench. His gaze said it all: You think you can stop me? Try again.

The game was just getting started.