NBA: GIANT KILLING

The voice belonged to David, another journalist, one who primarily covered Georgia Tech.

Unlike Tony, who was brimming with excitement for Aina University, David was more skeptical.

To him, Tony was being naive—did he not understand just how absurdly strong Georgia Tech was?

The team boasted three outstanding players, but one name stood above the rest: Chris Bosh.

A towering, athletic forward, Bosh was already making waves in college basketball.

This season, he was averaging 8.9 rebounds per game and had racked up multiple double-doubles.

For Aina University, stopping him was an almost impossible task. His length, agility, and skill made him a nightmare in the paint.

"They're coming out!"

A voice from the crowd cut through the air, and in an instant, the stadium erupted.

Tony and David turned toward the entrance as Georgia Tech, led by Bosh, emerged from the tunnel.

The stands shook with thunderous chants:

"GEORGIA TECH! GEORGIA TECH!!"

The sheer volume was deafening, a tidal wave of sound that seemed to press down on the players stepping onto the court.

For a casual observer, it might have been easy to mistake this arena for Georgia Tech's home court.

And then, Aina University entered behind them.

The contrast was stark—where Georgia Tech was welcomed with deafening roars, Aina was met with indifference.

David smirked as he looked between the two teams.

"This is the star player you were hyping up? He's way too short."

His gaze settled on Oliver, whose 5'9" frame looked almost comical among the giants on the court.

"Hahaha, did they pay Tony to hype him up or something?" David's cameraman joked, adjusting his lens to capture Oliver in a few shots. They'd have a good laugh about this later.

Tony didn't respond, but inwardly, he scoffed.

How could they be so blind?

They earned their way through here. They were undefeated in their region.

And what's more...

From the way Oliver carried himself, the way his teammates subtly turned to him, it was obvious—Oliver was the leader of this team.

______________________________

On the court, Golin swallowed hard, his nerves betraying him.

The sheer size of the crowd, the unrelenting energy, the knowledge that nearly everyone in the stands was rooting against them—it was overwhelming.

This wasn't just another game.

This was the NCAA tournament.

His hands trembled as he wiped the sweat from his palms, gripping the ball like a lifeline.

Then, a hand clapped against his back.

"Relax. Don't be so tense."

Oliver's voice was calm, steady—a sharp contrast to the storm raging inside Golin's chest.

Golin turned to him, skeptical.

"Easy for you to say, like you've played in this tournament before."

Oliver only chuckled.

He had no doubt about how this game would unfold.

And more importantly, he was about to dunk on Bosh.

He had known this moment was coming, but just before stepping onto the court, he had received an unexpected system notification:

"Congratulations! You have won the conference championship and qualified for the NCAA tournament.

Special reward: MVP Triple-Double King."

Then came the name.

"Russell Westbrook."

Oliver nearly laughed out loud.

Hell yes.

Another superstar had arrived.

Westbrook was a force of nature—a relentless, explosive powerhouse known for his raw athleticism, his ferocious dunks, and his ability to dominate the court.

With Westbrook's abilities, Oliver's game had just reached an entirely new level.

He already had Iverson's agility, Harden's scoring instincts, and LeBron's strength—but now?

Now he had pure, unfiltered explosiveness.

With Westbrook in his arsenal, Oliver knew one thing for certain.

Bosh was in trouble.

________________________

Both teams took to their respective halves of the court, beginning their warm-ups.

On Georgia Tech's side, Bosh was putting on a show.

He palmed the ball, sprinted forward, and launched himself into the air—

A 360-degree two-handed dunk, the rim shaking from the impact.

Moments later, Jack lobbed the ball off the backboard, and Bosh caught it in mid-air—

A violent windmill slam.

The crowd exploded.

Oliver watched with mild amusement.

Then, Bosh turned toward Golin, who was still practicing his shooting, and raised a hand.

For a moment, it seemed like he might say something—maybe offer a challenge, a taunt.

Instead, he simply flipped him off.

Golin's face tensed instantly.

"Alright, he wants a fight? I'll show him."

His fists clenched, his entire body stiffening with anger.

He took a step forward, ready to confront Bosh—

But before he could, Oliver grabbed him by the shoulder, holding him back.

"Let him dunk all he wants," Oliver said, his voice cool, unreadable.

"We'll settle the score on the court."

He wasn't fazed.

Let them showboat. Let them act like they'd already won.

The higher they flew now, the harder they'd fall later.

Game On.

The referee stepped onto the court, signaling the start of the game.

Georgia Tech's starting lineup:

PG: Wilson

SG: Jarrett Jack

SF: Harris

PF: Chris Bosh

C: Neal

Aina University's starters:

PG: Oliver

SG: Franklin

SF: Golin

PF: Reeves

C: Muller

The ball soared into the air, and Bosh, with his towering frame, had no trouble winning the jump ball.

Wilson caught the tip and wasted no time pushing it forward.

In a flash, he passed the ball to Jarrett Jack, Georgia Tech's top scorer.

A murmur rippled through the crowd as Jack squared up—

And standing in front of him?

Oliver.

The crowd's reaction was almost immediate.

"What the…?"

"Are they serious? They put this little guy on Jack?"

Jack was momentarily stunned.

He had heard the hype about Oliver, but now that he saw him in person, he couldn't take him seriously.

"Kid, let me show you what real basketball looks like."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he began his dribble sequence—

A blur of crossovers, behind-the-back moves, hesitation steps.

But Oliver?

He didn't bite on a single fake.

Jack frowned.

Fine. He'd just drive right through him.

Jack had a six-inch (16 cm) height advantage.

He lowered his shoulder and pushed forward—

And then stopped dead.

It was like hitting a brick wall.

His eyes widened.

What the hell?!

He tried again—another drive, another push—

Nothing.

Oliver didn't budge an inch.

"What are you doing?! Shoot it!" Georgia Tech's coach shouted from the sidelines.

Flustered, Jack rushed a three-pointer—a shot he hadn't planned on taking.

A small, confident smile crept onto Oliver's face.

Because the moment Jack released the ball, he heard a calm, unshaken voice—

"Is that all you've got?"