Chapter 10

The tension in the gym was thick, the kind that made every breath feel heavier, every movement more deliberate. Brian Moser sat on the bench, calm as ever, while the scoreboard flashed a tied game. The reigning champions had fought their way back, and for the first time in the match, the crowd felt uncertain.

His teammates were tense. The once-comfortable lead had vanished, and now, the pressure was suffocating them. They whispered among themselves, exchanging nervous glances, wiping sweat from their brows.

Brian, however, was relaxed. He leaned back, taking in the sight of the opposing team huddled together, their coach barking out orders.

They think they have a chance now. Cute.

His coach crouched down in front of the team.

— "Alright, listen up! We started strong, but they adjusted. They're forcing bad shots, cutting off our passing lanes. We need to be smarter. Brian, we need you to—"

Brian waved a hand dismissively.

— "I know."

The coach sighed but didn't argue.

The buzzer sounded, and Brian stood, rolling his shoulders as he stepped back onto the court. The atmosphere had shifted. The opposing players were confident now. They had momentum.

Brian was about to rip it away from them.

The second the inbound pass came his way, he knew exactly how they were going to play him. The defender sagged off slightly, giving space, preparing to react. They had realized that pressing too hard on Brian only gave him an opportunity to burn them.

Smart.

It wouldn't matter.

Brian took a slow dribble forward, scanning the defense. The shot clock ticked down. His teammates were being guarded tightly. No clean passing lanes.

Fine.

He made his move.

A quick step forward—baiting the defender into thinking he was attacking. The moment the defender reacted, Brian pulled back, his footwork flawless. He stepped into a deep three-pointer, releasing the ball with perfect form.

The gym held its breath.

The shot barely touched the net as it swished through.

The crowd erupted.

Brian backpedaled, smirking as his defender scowled.

— "Gonna give me space? That's generous."

The champions weren't rattled yet. They ran a set play, swinging the ball around quickly, forcing the defense to scramble. Their point guard found an open man inside, and for a moment, it looked like an easy basket.

Until Brian reacted.

He rotated over in an instant, his body moving before anyone else even processed the play. As the forward went up for the layup, Brian soared higher, meeting him at the peak and swatting the ball so hard it smacked off the backboard.

A collective gasp filled the gym.

Brian grabbed the loose ball, pushing it up the court at breakneck speed. Two defenders rushed back to stop him, positioning themselves perfectly.

It didn't matter.

He hesitated for a split second—just enough to freeze them—then exploded between them, slicing through their defense like they weren't even there. He took off from just inside the paint, elevating with absurd ease.

The center jumped to contest.

Bad decision.

Brian cocked the ball back and slammed it down with brutal force, his other hand pressing down on the center's shoulder as he rose above him.

The dunk sent shockwaves through the gym.

His teammates lost their minds. The crowd roared. Even some of the opposing players looked stunned.

Brian landed, his gaze locked onto the center, who was still recovering. He leaned in just slightly.

— "You tried."

The game spiraled out of control from there.

The champions had fought hard to even the score, but once Brian flipped the switch, it was over. He toyed with them, dissecting their defense with surgical precision. When they pressed him, he broke through. When they sagged off, he drilled threes in their faces.

Every possession felt inevitable.

By the time the final buzzer sounded, the scoreboard told the story: a double-digit win, sealed in the second half by one man alone.

As Brian walked off the court, reporters swarmed the sidelines, eager for their soundbite.

— "Brian, that was one of the most dominant performances we've ever seen! What do you have to say about it?"

He wiped the sweat from his brow, then shrugged.

— "I was just getting warmed up."

And he meant every word.