The whistle pierced the humid Vegas air inside the Thomas & Mack Center practice court. Day three of Summer League camp. No crowds, no lights, just twenty-four hungry players, two assistant coaches, and the squeak of fresh sneakers on polished wood. Phil, the lead assistant running the sessions, clapped his hands once.
"Blue team versus white. Full scrimmage pace. Twenty-four minutes, two halves. No walk-ons, no excuses. Play like the game matters—because for most of you, it does. Reddy, you're point guard for blue. Run the show."
Arjun nodded once, pulling his practice jersey tighter across his newly built shoulders. The system panel hovered quietly in his peripheral vision, the Allrounder guarantees pulsing like a heartbeat: 7 points, 5 assists, 5 rebounds, 4 combined steals + blocks. He wasn't here to chase highlights. He was here to build.
The ball tipped. Arjun caught the outlet on the wing and immediately pushed tempo. Darius—the tattooed forward who had sneered at him on day one—guarded him loosely, smirking.
"Try not to brick it, last pick," Darius muttered loud enough for the court to hear. "This ain't Hyderabad pickup ball."
Arjun ignored the jab, eyes scanning. He hit a cutting wing with a crisp chest pass for an easy layup—assist number one. On the defensive end he switched onto a bigger forward, using his improved strength to bump him off the block and rip the ball loose on a drive. Steal number one. The blue team pushed again. Arjun caught the ball in transition, pump-faked, then dropped a no-look bounce pass to a trailer for another bucket—assist number two.
Phil blew the whistle after the first five minutes. "Reddy, good vision. Keep that up. Darius, stop ball-watching and talk on switches."
Darius wiped his face, glaring. "Kid's getting lucky passes. Watch—he'll disappear when the real defense shows up."
The scrimmage rolled on. Arjun stayed steady, never forcing. He scored his first two points on a pull-up mid-range jumper after a screen, keeping the defense honest. Then he crashed the glass on a missed three, boxing out a bigger center for the offensive rebound—rebound number one. On the next possession he poked the ball free from an over-dribbling guard, dove, and kicked it out—steal number two, assist number three on the ensuing fast break.
Halfway through the first "half," the numbers sat exactly where the system demanded:
7 points.
5 assists.
5 rebounds.
4 combined steals + blocks.
He hadn't exceeded them dramatically—he didn't need to. The Allrounder floor was locked in, and every action beyond it came naturally because he was playing basketball, not stats. A quiet three-pointer here, a defensive rotation there, a second-chance board on the weak side. Efficient. Complete. The kind of game that made winning plays without needing the spotlight.
During the water break, the chatter grew louder.
The undrafted wing who had shown open disgust on day one—Marcus—shook his head while gulping Gatorade. "Man, dude's hitting every quota like it's scripted. Seven and five and five? That's not even trying. I'm out here busting my ass for scraps and this drafted pretty boy just… does it."
Another G-League vet, Jamal, laughed bitterly. "Envy's a bitch, huh? Kid's got the system working for him. Literally drafted. We grind years for a camp invite and he floats in at 60 and looks like he belongs."
Darius wasn't laughing. He stepped closer to Arjun, voice low and venomous. "Keep playing cute, Reddy. This league don't care about your little story. One bad game and you're back on a plane to India. Bet you can't even guard me one-on-one."
Arjun met his eyes calmly, wiping sweat from his brow. "Then guard me next possession. We'll see."
Phil overheard and barked, "Enough talking! Back on the floor. Darius, you're checking Reddy this half. Make it physical."
The second half intensified. Darius came out aggressive, bumping Arjun off screens, talking nonstop trash. "That all you got, rookie? My grandma passes better." Arjun absorbed the contact, used it, slipped screens, and found open teammates—two more assists. On defense he fought through, contesting a pull-up and forcing a miss, then grabbed the long rebound—rebound number six, already over quota. A chase-down block on a fast-break attempt—block number two. Another steal on a lazy cross-court pass.
By the final whistle, the blue team had won by nine. Arjun's final line in the scrimmage box score (scrawled on the whiteboard by the coach's assistant):
**Arjun Reddy – 9 points, 7 assists, 6 rebounds, 2 steals, 2 blocks.**
Quietly over the floor in every category. Nothing gaudy. Everything winning.
Phil gathered the group, clipboard in hand. "Good work today. Reddy—solid. You're moving the ball, seeing the floor, and not forcing. That's what we want from a guard. Keep building on it. Darius, Marcus—step it up. You're letting one rookie make you look average."
Darius muttered under his breath as the group dispersed, "One good scrimmage don't mean shit. Watch him fold when the real games start."
Marcus nodded, envy thick in his voice. "Kid's playing like he's already got the contract. Must be nice being the 'story.' Meanwhile we're fighting for two-ways."
Even a couple of the quieter overseas players shot Arjun sideways glances—contempt mixed with reluctant respect. One of them, a tall Serbian forward, muttered to his buddy in accented English, "He does everything a little. Not star, but… useful. Annoying how easy it looks."
Arjun ignored the noise, cooling down with stretches near the baseline. Inside, the system panel updated softly:
**Scrimmage Performance Logged.**
**Allrounder Quota Met: 100% Consistency Achieved.**
**Team Win Counter: 0/30**
**"Silence the Doubters" Quest Progress: 1/5 scrimmages completed. Performance rating: Strong.**
Phil walked over while the others headed to the locker room. "Hey, Reddy. Quick word." The coach lowered his voice. "You're doing exactly what we asked—no hero ball, no turnovers, making the right reads. Some guys out here are talking, but ignore it. Keep stacking days like this and you'll force conversations upstairs. Summer League games start in two days. I'm putting you in the starting lineup for the first one. Prove me right."
Arjun nodded, a small fire burning behind his calm expression. "Thank you, Coach. I'm just here to help the team win."
Phil clapped him on the shoulder and walked off.
As Arjun grabbed his bag, he caught one last snippet from Darius across the court—loud enough to carry: "Watch. They'll trade his ass anyway. Last picks always get moved for cap space. Kid's a walking business decision."
Arjun's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Let them talk. Let the contempt and envy fuel the fire. The real test was coming—actual Summer League games in front of scouts, GMs, and cameras.
He had already met the quota.
Now it was time to exceed it.