Robi, Banani's center, was hanging out near the hoop, looking like a pretty solid obstacle, but Salman was feeling himself. He had the speed, the moves, the whole package.

  Layup time. Easy points. That was the mantra echoing in his head. That’s what they desperately needed to stop the bleeding.

  He jumped, extending the ball out in front of him, cradling it gently in his right hand like it was a precious baby bird. He was picturing the soft bounce off the backboard, the satisfying swish of the net. Two points.

  Finally, some points on the board for Motijheel. Finally, a moment to catch their breath and maybe, just maybe, start pying some actual basketball again.

  But then… uh oh. Suddenly, a shadow flickered in Salman's side vision. He caught a glimpse of something moving, like, way too fast.

  And then, out of nowhere, a figure unched itself into the air from his left. It was like watching someone hit fast forward on reality. Too fast. Way too high. It was James.

  Seriously, James? Salman’s brain short-circuited for a second. He hadn’t even considered James as a problem on this py. He was expecting Robi, maybe Tariq, to come challenge his yup, the usual suspects.

  But James? Dude was supposed to be the three-point sniper, the long-range bomber. Not a defender. Definitely not… this. This felt like some kind of glitch in the Matrix.

  James just exploded upwards, unching himself into the air with this insane burst of speed and height that honestly looked like it defied gravity. It was like watching a coiled spring suddenly unspool, sending him soaring towards the ceiling.

  And as he jumped, it was like something else clicked into pce. You could almost see this subtle shift in his focus, a tiny, almost invisible tightening of his muscles, like he was locking onto a target. Unseen, unheard, King's Palm activated, but nobody in the stands, or even on the court, would have had a clue what was happening.

  His hand shot out, a complete blur of motion, reaching for the ball in Salman's outstretched hand. But it wasn't just a block attempt, not like you'd see in any regur basketball game. This was something completely different. This wasn't defense, it was… an interception. A straight-up, mid-air, daylight robbery of the basketball.

  In a move that straight-up broke the ws of physics and probably basketball rulebook etiquette too, James's hand connected with the ball. But he didn't just deflect it, or swat it away like a pesky fly. Nope. He just… took it.

  His fingers wrapped around the leather, snatching it cleanly, decisively, like he was plucking a ripe fruit right out of Salman's hand, just as Salman was about to release it for the yup. Salman, mid-air, completely and utterly humiliated, could only stare in stunned silence.

  His yup? Denied. His dignity? Also denied. The ball, which was literally in his hand a split second ago, was just… gone. Poof. Vanished into thin air. Had it been stolen by magic? Honestly, at this point, it felt like the only logical expnation.

  The crowd went completely silent, like everyone collectively inhaled at the exact same moment. They had just witnessed something… impossible. Even the Banani bench, who were still hyped up from James's three-pointer streak, just froze. Their cheers died in their throats, cut off mid-celebration by this new level of… whatever this was.