Flashback: The Sunlit Slums
The son of exobiologists stranded in the floating megacities of Ethyros, Gravot grew up in what locals called "The Sink"—a maze of dilapidated alleyways strung together by makeshift electrical lines. High above, crystalline skyscrapers reflected the glory of their inhabitants: status symbols gleaming in the light of twin suns. Below, in the shadows, survival was an art most had already failed to master.
Gravot was different. Tall and wiry, with eyes electric green like melting shards of emerald, he moved through the labyrinthine streets with the grace of a predator. His physique wasn’t bulky—instead, it was crafted for speed, agility, and a dexterity born from years of climbing forbidden scaffoldings and pirating upward to scavenge forgotten technology. His signature attire? Charcoal-gray robes borrowed from an Ethyrosi long-forgotten street monk, patched at the knees and elbows with gold stitching, paired with boots too worn to mask their origin. They gave him an air of defiance—a man moving between eras, between dreams.
His love for basketball didn’t fit the grim dichotomy of his world. Trash-can hoops and rocks were his first court and ball, but it was enough to awaken something deeper. Over time, Gravot began to steal glimpses of real games played within the shimmering forcefields of Atlantic Sports Domes. He studied their art—the confounding precision, the balletic glides between defense and hope. By fourteen, he had joined the Sink Underground Circuit, a raw, brutal version of the sport where elbows flew liberally, and there were no referees.
“Be better than them,” his late mother had once whispered. “Don't become the street. Use it.” Her shadow whispered behind him even on the longest of days, her words an unshakable mantra as he climbed the ranks.
The Game: Knights vs. Titans
The final battle on Ethyros was where Gravot became “Gravot the Impossible.” Recruited by the Phantom City Phoenixes, a team known for their eclectic mix of misfits, Gravot had carved out his niche as their wildcard point guard. His teammates were a reflection of everything Gravot had learned to trust: loyal, layered, and hungry for glory. The Thunderblades, on the other hand, were the elite—not just physically superior but genetically enhanced in ways Gravot could only dream of.
The first half was brutal. Gravot struggled to find rhythm against Markus Xanthos, the Thunderblades’ towering captain. Xanthos moved like a living wrecking ball, and by the third quarter, the Phoenixes trailed by twelve. Gravot’s face gleamed with sweat, his robes sticking to his taut frame. For a moment, his focus wavered, the memory of his mother’s frail hands clouding his vision, but then Xanthos sneered at him during an attempted steal. Gravot’s blood surged. Defeat was not an option.
The final minute came down to muscle and mind. Xanthos drove to the hoop, barrelling through three defenders. But Gravot, anticipating the pass to the corner, lunged. His body twisted mid-air as he snatched the ball with fingers that seemed to stretch beyond human capacity. With five seconds left, he pivoted past three defenders and launched the ball across the court’s full length. Time slowed. The rest was a legend waking.
The Aftermath: A Name Carved in Light
As holographic confetti rained down, Gravot rose to his feet, his team lifting him onto their shoulders. His green eyes scanned the crowd until they found a young boy wearing worn shoes, much like Gravot once had. Gravot held his gaze, saw in the boy the spark of a dream ignited, and gave him a small nod. The boy grinned, already carving his path in the ether of possibility.
Later, Gravot stood in the locker room, staring at his reflection in the mirrored pane. His sharp jawline was marred by the faint bruises of battle, his broad shoulders still trembling with adrenaline. The patched robes, now laced with sweat and victory, hung beside him. He had made it. His name wasn’t just his anymore. It was theirs—etched into the annals of Ethyrosi basketball history. Still, Gravot whispered to himself.
“This is only the beginning.”
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Alex Couch had her teammates’ jaws on the floor with this incredible shot 😱 (via @spectrumnewskc/IG)
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