7 – 2. Forest.
The arena pulsed with noise. Lights beamed down like spotlights on a stage. But to Lucas Graves, it all blurred.
He stood near the sideline, catching his breath, sweat trailing down his temple.
Across the court, Forest huddled briefly—calm, composed, almost confident.
Lucas stared at the hardwood beneath his feet, the ball cradled in his hands.
(Why do I think… I'm not stronger compared to before…?)
His grip tightened.
(Or maybe… it's just my thought. Maybe I've convinced myself I'm stronger… just because I have this power…)
He glanced at Elijah again, who now stood with his teammates, bumping fists, calm like a man who'd already seen the ending of the story.
Evan passed him the ball.
He crossed half-court.
(I trained my eyes to see everything. My body to match it. But maybe… that's the flaw.)
He scanned the defense.
Forest was back in their hybrid zone—Elijah at the top, ready to pounce on any hesitation.
