Zoran woke before sunrise, like always.
There wasn't a schedule telling him to be up that early. But he'd learned years ago that the calm before the noise was where clarity lived. By 6:15 a.m., he was already in the Mavericks' practice facility—hood up, headphones in, jumper locked in from midrange.
He wasn't the most vocal. But people noticed patterns. Especially in pro locker rooms.
Jaden Hardy was the first to speak that morning.
"You ever sleep, bro?"
Zoran kept his eyes on the rim as he grabbed the rebound himself and lined up the next shot.
"I do," he replied. "But not when I'm chasing someone."
"Who?"
"Everyone."
The team was still trying to find rhythm. Chemistry without Kyrie and AD? A work in progress. Zoran felt it in the tempo of practice. The passes weren't crisp. The rotations were slow. And Coach Kidd? He was quiet, but watching everything.
When scrimmage time came, Kidd called out the matchups.
"Zoran. You're with the starters."
Spencer Dinwiddie raised an eyebrow. So did Naji Marshall. But no one said anything. They all watched Zoran jog to the other side of the court without a single gesture of celebration.
His assignment? Klay Thompson.
Still a sniper. Still smart. Still dangerous off the ball.
Zoran stayed locked in.
First three possessions, Klay barely got a clean catch. Zoran chased every screen, bumped every cut, stayed just close enough to make Klay hesitate.
On the fourth, Klay faked high, then sprinted baseline off a stagger screen.
Zoran read it early.
He didn't fight the first pick. He slipped under the second, guessed where Klay would drift, and got there first.
Stolen pass.
Fast break.
One dribble, two strides, left-handed euro past Max Christie.
Layup.
Jason Kidd nodded. That was all.
But Zoran caught it.
The system flashed that night.
[Trigger: Scrimmage Performance Grade — A-]
[BOOST UNLOCKED: Dribble Separation +2 | Duration: 48 Hours]
He didn't grin. He didn't pump a fist. He just activated the isolation drills and got back to work. The system didn't make him good—it rewarded his effort. He respected that.
If it gave him a shortcut, he'd refuse it.
But if it gave him a sharper edge?
He'd use it like a scalpel.
Later, during team meetings, the assistant coach Bryan Gates ran through tape of the preseason.
Missed help assignments. Broken plays. Poor communication.
"Some of y'all look like you're playing pickup ball," Gates said flatly. "You're in the NBA. This isn't the Drew League."
Then he hit pause on a clip.
Zoran trapping a drive, forcing a turnover.
"Only guy who rotated on time."
A few heads turned toward him. Nobody said anything. But the silence was loud.
After practice, Zoran found himself walking next to Anthony Davis in the tunnel. AD was still out, but moving better, ice wraps under his sweats.
"You got good timing on those traps," AD said quietly. "Most young guys get overeager."
Zoran nodded. "I study tendencies. It's a game of angles."
"You always like that?"
"Since I stopped growing."
AD chuckled. "Damn. Fair."
The hallway filled with echoing footsteps.
"Keep doing what you're doing," AD said. "You're not just here by accident."
Zoran returned to the hotel room that night and opened a new film session.
Not just his own plays. He watched the Pelicans—next opponent.
Brandon Ingram. Herb Jones. Jonas Valančiūnas. Smart, strong, switchable team.
The Mavericks would need every edge.
He rewound one clip of Ingram isolating.
Played it again. Slowed it down. Wrote a note.
IN-GOING HESITATION → BASELINE STEP THROUGH WHEN LEFT SHADED
His system lit up again.
[SCOUTING MODULE ACTIVATED | PERCEPTION RANGE +1 vs Ingram | Active Until Game End]
Zoran blinked.
For a second, he forgot how tired he was.
He wasn't trying to impress anybody anymore.
He was preparing for war.