Michael Jordan: Rebound from Oblivion

The moment the match ended, the world didn't feel the same.

Mike's chest rose and fell with slow, controlled breaths. Sweat clung to her forehead like a battle mark, and her fingers flexed around the ball with a practiced calm that felt unnatural for a child her age. Blood trickled from a busted lip. Her right leg throbbed where bone had scraped bone from a fall. Yet her eyes—those piercing, confident, flame-born eyes—remained sharp.

She had won.

But it didn't feel like victory.

The court was empty again, silent, and veiled in a soft, low-humming mist. She could still feel the lingering presence of something ancient—something old enough to crack mountains just by stepping wrong.

"System," she muttered, spitting blood from the corner of her mouth. "Talk."

> [System Active] [Opponent Defeated: God-Class Entity — Tier Sealed.] [Death Game Completed.]

Mike frowned. "That wasn't some overgrown player, was it?"

> [Incorrect. You just played a god. I lowered their tier to match yours. Their abilities, however, remained untouched.]

A long pause followed.

"You for real?" she whispered.

> [As real as your next opponent. Win or die. That is the game.]

She chuckled. It was low, dry, and hoarse—almost hysterical. "Damn. You really are messed up."

> [Acknowledged.]

The system's cold honesty made her laugh again. Louder this time. That accent of hers—blunt and Black, with the flavor of Chicago streets—cut through the void like a reminder that even gods would one day bow to trash talk.

"I don't even know your name," she said.

> [Name unnecessary. Focus: Survive.]

The mist on the court slowly began to fade. Reality blurred around her before folding like a discarded jersey. She stumbled forward, and light exploded—ripping her from the god-court and hurling her back to the concrete beneath her orphanage's half-shattered hoop.

She landed with a grunt, ankle rolling awkwardly.

"Damn!"

Her body screamed at her—fractured ribs, twisted ankle, bruised shoulder—but she stood. Gritting her teeth, using the backboard pole to balance, she straightened up.

Everything was quiet.

The ball bounced once, then rolled.

She picked it up.

"I'm not done."

---

Elsewhere, high above the clouds, somewhere in the realm of gods.

"Another one's gone."

Whispers passed between shimmering figures cloaked in robes that shimmered like galaxies. They sat in an arc—each throne a monument to different court styles, powers, and bloodline philosophies.

"The twelfth this month," a woman murmured, her voice like molten silver.

The God-King stood in silence, eyes closed, hand loosely gripping the staff that connected him to the realms below.

"It can't be coincidence," one of the gods said. "Our chosen aren't just losing. They're being erased."

"Impossible. No mortal can kill a god."

A hush fell over them.

Then, the God-King spoke.

"It is not a mortal," he said slowly, "It is it. The Sealed One."

"Impossible. We sealed it beneath the dimensional court."

"Then explain the deaths."

He turned. For a moment, even the stars above the godrealm dimmed.

"Someone is freeing it. Or worse… it never needed freeing."

---

Back on Earth, Mike limped into the dim-lit bathroom of the orphanage. Her eyes found the mirror. Black hair matted to her face. Dried blood crusted along her neck. She was still twelve.

Twelve… and she'd just dunked on a god.

Her voice cracked as she whispered: "Michael Jordan… is back on air."

Then she collapsed.

---

She awoke to the warmth of sunlight pouring through the dusty glass. It was morning. Her body ached, but the system had done something. Bruises were fading faster than they should. Bones were still tender but not broken anymore. Her limbs moved with only a dull reminder of the trauma.

"Weird," she muttered. "You healing me too now?"

> [Minor recovery provided. Sustained injuries would hinder your path to dominance. You are... an investment.]

Mike rolled her eyes. "Thanks for making it sound so sweet."

The court outside called to her again. Not the god-court. The broken, faded one where washed-up kids threw bricks all day, hoping for a miracle. She loved that court. It was honest.

Later that day, she walked back onto it. Limping slightly. No fanfare. No audience. Just kids her age, older teens, a few ex-ballers whose dreams were crushed by awakening failures.

"Yo, she's back," one of them whispered.

Mike nodded at them, ball in hand.

One of the older boys—Fleck—stepped forward. Sixteen. Strong. Failed his awakening last year. Now he ran the court like a king of nothing.

"You wanna play, girl?" he asked.

Mike grinned. "Nah. I came to take your crown."

Laughter.

"You got heart, lil' lady. I'll give you that."

"You'll give me more than that." She spun the ball casually on her fingertip. "You'll give me the court."

He raised an eyebrow. "One-on-one?"

"Nine-point match. Winner owns the court."

"Deal."

She could feel it building inside her—Court Circuit, rising. Internal Energy, pulsing beneath her muscles. She wouldn't use any system boosts. Not here. This was the human part of the grind. The place where legacy was earned.

---

They played hard.

The court trembled beneath her rhythm. Every crossover felt surgical. Every fake felt prophetic. And though she was bruised, tired, and still recovering, she kept pushing. Because she had to.

Fleck was no god, but he was real. Strong. He didn't have powers, but he had something maybe more terrifying—grit. When she hit 6–4, he got angry. When it hit 7–6, he got reckless. At 8–8, it wasn't about court pride anymore.

It was about proving who belonged in this world.

Final play.

Mike ran up the right side, hesitated, stepped left.

Fleck followed—too eager.

She spun, slipped through the blind spot.

Jumped.

The ball kissed the rim, circled, and dropped.

9–8.

Silence.

Then applause. Real, raw, earned applause.

She didn't smile.

Not yet.

> [System Notification: Hidden Attribute Unlocked – Street King] [Court Style Affinity Increased.]

Mike exhaled.

"You still with me?" she whispered.

> [Always. Prepare. Next match loading soon. God-tier pending.]

She closed her eyes.

This was just the beginning.

---

Far above the skies, the God-King opened his eyes.

"She awakens."