Dominance Evolution System: Sweat, Sex, and Streetball

The third quarter became a massacre. Nash tore through the floor as if it was a personal vendetta, every dribble faster, every shot sharper.

Fans lost it, standing, stomping, waving anything they could find. His name started to echo from one side of the hangar to the other, people filmed him.

Commentators barely kept up, one shouting over the other:

"Blaze is out of control right now, this is solo play at its peak!"

"He's dragging Blacklist forward by sheer will. Skull Diggers can't guard him, not one-on-one, not even two-on-one!"

On the bench, Victoria sat with legs crossed, the faintest smile on her lips, eyes locked like she had known this was coming.

Daliah leaned forward, chin on her fist, a different spark in her gaze, more impressed.

The rest of the Blacklist squad stared in disbelief. Jinzo sank deeper into his chair, arms crossed tight, watching his last hope crumble.

On court, the Diggers adjusted desperately. Three, sometimes four players closed in on Nash, throwing bodies in his path.

But that only made it worse. The second they ganged on him, he did a laser pass. Nia cutting baseline, layup. Alicia popping wide, net.

Every possession turned into a highlight. The scoreboard kept flipping, the gap growing:

Score: Blacklist 68 – Skull Diggers 53.

"Blacklist is blowing it open!" the commentator yelled. "Nash is conducting the whole damn game!"

The fans erupted again, a wave of sound shaking the rafters. Nash jogged back on defense, sweat dripping, chest heaving, yet, he didn't feel tired at all. He always recovered his stamina, while everyone else was panting.

Nash jogged back, calm as ever, but Drex cut across his path.

"Yo, Blaze," Drex barked, "you gonna pass sometime, or what? This is a team game, not a solo show."

Nash didn't break stride, just glanced at him. "I passed, to Nia and Alicia. You should place yourself closer to the racket. And Victoria said I do as I please. That's the order."

That only made Drex bristle harder.

"You think you're above us, huh? Running the floor like you don't need anyone. Keep it up, and we'll crash out the moment you choke."

Nash stopped this time, looking almost bored.

"If everything comes from me, then how could you tell me how to play? I'm already passing the ball, you're just not in the right place. If you don't like it, ask Victoria to bench you. Let Jinzo or Mac sub in. They're waiting, right? It's your chance we don't have another girl, I could have a full harem team around me. Wait... Actually...." he paused, smirking, "maybe I should convince Victoria to recruit Lina and Sarra. Locker room after the game would be something else."

Drex's face went red.

"The fuck is wrong with you?"

But Nash was already looking past him, like the argument had ended in his head. He caught the inbound from Nia without even turning, spinning it once in his palm.

"You're not the best," Drex snapped, fists clenched. "Don't act like it."

Nash smirked, eyes narrowing.

"That's the problem, boy. The best? Maybe not right now. But with this potential..."

He launched a no-look shot from half court, body loose, not even watching. The ball clanged the rim and bounced off.

A huge gasp crossed the public.

Nash just laughed, shaking his head.

"Ah? Come on..." Nash said. "Sounds like a three points improvement."

78–54

The third quarter ended with a huge margin. Blacklist had blown the game wide open.

The crowd was still in ecstasy as the team gathered on the bench.

Victoria walked up, arms folded, scanning every one of them. Nia sat with her head tilted back, chest rising and falling, drenched in sweat.

Alicia was bent forward, hands on her knees, jaw tight, trying to hide how gassed she was.

Daliah leaned closer.

"We could bury them deeper if we put in more men. Jinzo or Mac. Fresh legs, fresh lungs."

Her eyes slid to Nash, waiting for his word.

Nash looked first at Nia.

"You alright?"

Nia smirked faintly.

"I'd be fine if someone didn't wear me out earlier. On and off the court."

Nash chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"Then take a break. Stay here."

Nia pouted but didn't fight it.

He turned to Alicia.

"And you?"

Alicia immediately sat straighter, crossing her arms.

"Don't even think about it. I can still go. I'm not leaving you out there alone."

Nash gave her a steady look.

"You're tired. And you know it. Sit down. Trust me. Let's finish this so we can celebrate."

Her lips parted to argue, but his calm tone broke her pushback. She clicked her tongue, cheeks red, then finally slumped onto the bench with a growl.

"Tch… fine. But remember, I'm taking the first turn."

The guys who were called in clenched their fists, frustrated by the whole exchange. For them, once again, it was just Nash pulling the strings.

They entered the court, and as Nash stood to return, Victoria stepped into his path. She adjusted her glasses.

"You have the crown now. But worry about your kingdom. When the people hate their king, the king's head doesn't last long."

Nash stared at her in silence for a moment. He observed the distant gazes of his teammates, except for the 3 girls, everyone was throwing deadly gazes.

Yet, he smirked.

"Out of nine, three are on my side. Maybe you should just hire more women."

And without waiting for a response, he strode back onto the court.

Victoria let him go without pushing it too much, but her words didn't die here. As he walked, Nash's mind replayed her words.

The crown. The kingdom. Hate.

That was the underground. In Breakball, it wasn't a team, or a family. For each team, there was only one king. One player who walked away with the credits, the women, even the shot at the Upper World.

The rest? Four losers, nine in a match, eating scraps. Your teammates weren't really teammates.

They were rivals standing next to you. And if you didn't crush them with your performance, they'd crush you.

Nash cracked his neck, bouncing the ball once it hit his palms. Salida slid into position face to him, arms stretched, she didn't smile this time.

He smirked, bouncing the ball low. Then he moved.

Fast. Too fast.

Salida blinked, and she was already falling, her knees buckling under his burst. The crowd gasped, a wave of noise.

"Again! That acceleration!" someone screamed.

Nash tore down the lane, another body lunging, another falling behind him. The racket loomed, two defenders jumping to cut him off.

He rose, faked, spun midair, and launched a no‑look shot over his shoulder.

Thump.

Swish.

The net snapped, the public erupted. The hangar shook like it was tearing itself apart.

Jinzo, Drex and Mac gritted their teeth.

The commentators' voices resonated through the roar.

"Remember the name... Nash Blaze!"

High above the court, a screen cut to black.

Somewhere else, on a bed in a quiet room, a girl with yellow hair was lying back, a man asleep beside her.

She held the remote, eyes trembling as she stared at the blank screen.

Her lips moved, a whisper escaping.

"…Nash?"

It was Saya.