"I need to learn how to adjust. I'll be better next game."
After losing Game 1 of the Finals, Giannis wore his frustration on his face—but to his credit, he still carried himself like a leader.
In many ways, he mirrored LeBron—both in playing style and mentality—but in this moment, the younger Giannis actually seemed more mature than LeBron ever did in defeat.
"It's only the first game of the Finals."
Coach Budenholzer also kept his cool.
It wasn't necessarily poise—it was numbness. Back when he coached the Hawks, he'd been through way worse.
That's just how people work. Go through enough pain, and eventually you get used to it.
Two days later, Game 2 tipped off again in Milwaukee.
The Bucks made some adjustments. They dialed back the plays specifically designed for Giannis and instead involved him more as a screener in pick-and-rolls.
Giannis's biggest strength was his mobility and aggression for a big man. Unlike LeBron, he didn't need the ball in his hands all the time.
But the Kings had a solid counter.
Their defense adapted to the ball-handler:
- When Bledsoe initiated, they went under screens, daring him to shoot.
- When it was Brogdon or Middleton, they switched quickly to shut down the perimeter.
The speed of their reads made it clear—this wasn't an in-game adjustment.
The Kings had already prepared for this shift.
The broadcast cut to the Kings' bench—not to Coach Lue, but to the man beside him: Stan Van Gundy.
SVG wasn't just a defensive specialist—he was known for his preparation. No detail left unchecked.
So while the Kings' counters looked impressive, they weren't random. They were just well-prepared.
And it wasn't just their defense. Their offense looked even better than in Game 1.
Tatum and Mitchell stayed hot, and even Hield couldn't miss.
People often overlooked how big winning Game 1 was for this young Kings team—it gave them confidence. Now they were rolling.
Add Han Sen to the mix—the greatest of all time—and of course they played fearless.
Final: Kings 120, Bucks 102.
A bigger blowout than Game 1. Han Sen? He only needed 35 points.
At this rate, it wasn't just about whether the Kings would win the championship.
They might sweep the Bucks.
This team kept exceeding expectations.
---
With a 2–0 lead, the Kings returned to Sacramento for Game 3.
But the result surprised everyone.
From the jump, the Bucks came out with a new mindset—they turned the game into a defensive grind.
Their defense wasn't as overwhelming as the Pelicans', but with Giannis covering massive ground and everyone else staying solid, they weren't pushovers.
But the real issue?
The Kings' young players cracked under pressure.
They wanted to close this game out fast. Going up 3–0 would basically secure the title.
But in trying to rush the win, they fell apart.
As the game went on, Han Sen found himself alone again, trying to carry them.
He finished with 46 points, but the team lost.
Series: 2–1.
And just like that, the Finals had tension again.
After the game, Han didn't seem concerned.
It didn't matter how fast they'd grown—they were still a rookie-heavy team. Mistakes were part of the process.
But the next day at practice?
Han lit into them.
It was one thing to make mistakes. It was another to learn from them.
He tightened the screws, pushed them harder—just enough to refocus them.
Because Han hadn't won six titles and built two dynasties on pure talent alone.
He knew better than anyone how to win championships.
---
Game 4.
The Bucks played with the same energy and focus as Game 3.
But the Kings?
They were locked in.
Every decision—every read—whether from the vet Han or the young guns like Tatum and Mitchell… it was all sharp.
It didn't matter what plays the Bucks ran.
The result was crystal clear:
"They just can't beat the Kings."
No tactic, no momentum swing, no hustle could change that.
Final: Kings 108, Bucks 98.
The gap wasn't huge, but the Bucks never really had a shot.
As the final buzzer sounded, the Kings' young players celebrated wildly on the court.
Golden 1 Center was deafening with cheers.
Series: 3–1.
And that number meant everything.
In NBA history, no team had ever come back from a 1–3 deficit in the Finals.
That meant the Kings were basically champions.
"The series isn't over. We'll fight to the end."
Giannis kept saying the right things.
But at this point? It sounded hollow.
The Kings might not have been more talented, but they had Han Sen.
There was no way a 3–1 lead would slip away—not with him.
---
Game 5.
Back in Milwaukee.
Commissioner Silver and league officials showed up.
This was match point.
At halftime, the Bucks led 54–43.
They played like animals backed into a corner—more aggressive than in any previous game.
And the refs?
Clearly gave them the edge.
More free throws. More leeway.
The league wasn't trying to hand the Bucks a title.
They just didn't want the Finals to end so soon.
G6 felt inevitable.
But then the second half started—
And Han Sen flipped the switch.
He went full beast mode—scoring in the post, locking up Giannis, blocking Middleton.
The Kings clawed back.
By the 8-minute mark of the third, they took the lead.
The Bucks had burned everything in the first half.
And like the old saying goes—first surge strong, second surge weak, third surge done.
If they'd built a bigger lead or crushed the Kings early, they could've won.
But the Kings had Han Sen.
And they weren't broken.
They were just getting started.
By the time rotations kicked in, the Kings led 75–70.
Han checked out.
Budenholzer kept Giannis in, trying to salvage things.
But Lue didn't take the bait.
He left Tatum in—to test him.
Tatum responded:
- A Euro-step layup.
- A help-side steal, followed by a fast-break slam.
He kept the lead intact.
The crowd roared.
Han Sen stood up on the bench and clapped for him.
In that moment, it felt like watching a seed finally bloom.
But then—
Something happened.
Or maybe it was inevitable.
Tatum caught the ball on the perimeter.
Went up for a jumper—
And Giannis slid under him.
Three steps, no hesitation—foot straight under Tatum's landing space.
When someone benefits from dirty play and faces no real consequences, chances are they'll do it again.
Giannis was desperate.
This might be his only shot at a title.
But this time?
He wasn't so lucky.
Because the moment he slid under Tatum…
Someone came flying in from behind—
And laid him out.
It was Marcus Morris.
Fans knew Morris from his "history" with Jokic—the beef between their families.
This dude was not one to mess with.
Refs scrambled to break up the chaos.
When the cameras zoomed in, Giannis's face was already bruising around the eye.
The game was put on hold for a technical timeout.
---
After the timeout, Giannis was assessed a technical foul, while Marcus Morris was ejected for a flagrant 2.
Budenholzer stormed the scorer's table—he felt the tech on Giannis was undeserved.
So the refs hit him with one too.
Technically, they were trying to keep control of the game.
But emotionally?
They clearly hated how the Bucks had been playing.
That second tech left Bud fuming.
Luckily, one of his assistants yanked him back to the bench just in time.
Back on the sideline, Bud channeled the rage into a fiery speech, trying to rally his guys to flip the momentum.
Even with the whistle going against them, Tatum getting undercut could've been the break they needed.
Make a run here, and it wasn't over.
From 2–3 to 3–3… and then Game 7 back in Milwaukee?
Not impossible.
But when play resumed, Bud froze.
The crowd buzzed.
It wasn't just Han Sen walking back in with that cold, locked-in stare…
Tatum was back too.
Just like that.
Same kind of undercut that once took Kyrie out—but a completely different result.
No one saw it coming.
Except Han.
He remembered how Tatum had taken dangerous landings before—somehow, he always walked away.
No nickname. No myth. Just a guy with quiet toughness and rubber ankles.
Tatum didn't look hurt.
He looked furious.
Giannis's dirty play didn't rattle the Kings.
It lit the fuse.
First possession after the break—Han called for a screen from Tatum, got the switch…
And hammered a one-handed dunk right over the top.
Giannis could defend, no doubt.
But matching Han's footwork in motion?
Not easy.
And at this point, their stamina wasn't even on the same planet.
As Han landed and jogged back, he saw Giannis walking toward the baseline to inbound the ball.
He called out:
"You're just a fake-ass coward."
Giannis froze.
Back when he was a no-name rookie, he'd been invited to Han's personal training camp by Under Armour.
Like many, he used to look up to Han Sen—idolized him even.
And now, this is what Han thought of him.
And the worst part?
He deserved it.
Still dazed, Giannis tried to pass on the next possession—turnover.
Tatum read it perfectly, snatched the ball, and raced down the court for a windmill slam.
The arena exploded.
Tatum landed and turned to the Bucks fans, screaming at the top of his lungs.
They say you become who you're around.
After everything Han had said to him—everything he'd seen Han do—Tatum was no longer some timid kid.
He had become a man obsessed with winning.
The Kings were feeding off raw emotion.
The Bucks?
Already cracked.
By the fourth quarter, it wasn't even a contest.
It was a beatdown.
Milwaukee had folded.
Sacramento never let up.
Only with three minutes left did Bud finally throw in the towel and pull his starters.
The bloodbath was over.
And when the final seconds ticked down, the Kings' young core couldn't hold it in any longer—
They started celebrating on the floor.
These kids…
They really did it.
They actually won a championship.
It felt like a dream.
No—scratch that.
Not even their dreams had dared to go this far.
This was a miracle.
The cameras zoomed in on Han Sen.
Because everyone knew who made this miracle happen.
This was a title on par with Dirk's 2011 Mavericks run.
Back then, it was an aging vet refusing to fade.
This time?
It was fearless youth led by the greatest.
Han was smiling.
He never doubted they'd make it to the top—because this wasn't just the Kings.
This was his creation.
They just happened to be wearing Sacramento jerseys.
He just didn't expect it to come together this fast.
So many lucky breaks.
The matchups.
Van Gundy's arrival.
The Marc Gasol trade.
Take one away, and the whole run might collapse.
But maybe they weren't coincidences.
Maybe they were the building blocks of a legend.
BZZZZZT!
The final buzzer echoed through the arena.
And the Kings stormed the court.
The Sacramento Kings are NBA Champions.
(End of Chapter)
Author's note: The story is approaching its final stretch. After this, I'll be wrapping up the remaining storylines and foreshadowing.
Some parts of the plot didn't come out as clean as I wanted—mainly due to rushed release planning—so I apologize for that. I'll take a short break for New Year and return with updates.
Thank you all for the support. Happy New Year, dads!
Wishing you a successful and brilliant year ahead.
Translator's note: This chapter was released back in Lunar New Year, Jan 29th, 2025. So yes, no breaks. Just wanted to keep the author's note.