Finally, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, trembling with a mix of awe and sheer terror, Number 5 managed to crack the oppressive silence.

  "Did…" he croaked, his voice raspy and shaky, almost unrecognizable as his own. "Did… did you guys just see that? That… shot? It… it didn't even touch the rim! It was… it was like… like a freakin' ser beam! Straight through the net! From… from way out there!" His voice just trailed off, lost in the sheer immensity of the impossible reality he had just witnessed. Words just weren't enough anymore.

  Number 7, still frozen in his tracks, managed this slow, robotic nod, his eyes still wide saucers of disbelief.

  "Yeah," he whispered, his voice ft and hollow, completely devoid of its earlier smugness. "Yeah, I saw it. We… we all saw it." He gnced around at his teammates, his gaze sweeping over their equally shell-shocked faces, desperately searching for confirmation, for some reassurance that he wasn't losing his mind, that he wasn't alone in his bewildered terror. "Right?" he pleaded, his voice barely audible, a desperate little squeak. "You guys… you guys saw that too, right? Tell me I'm not hallucinating."

  A low chorus of hushed, awestruck murmurs rippled through the Motijheel ranks. "Yeah…" "I saw it…" "Unbelievable…" "No way…" "Impossible…" The words were just fragments, whispers of pure disbelief, shards of shattered confidence, pieces of a reality that had just been irrevocably, fundamentally altered. The fluke theory, the desperate clinging to rational expnations, the comforting illusion of normalcy – it all just crumbled into dust, blown away by the sheer, undeniable perfection of James’s shot. The 'King's Palm' could maybe, maybe, have been written off as a bizarre accident, a visual trick, a momentary brain fart.

  But this shot… this shot was different. This shot was undeniable. This shot was stone-cold proof.

  (Note: No one know the name of King's Palm move. It is written here to make reader to understand which incident they are referring to.)

  Proof that James wasn't just some random dude who was clumsy at dribbling and got lucky with a weird catch.

  Proof that he possessed something… else. Something beyond the realm of normal basketball skills, beyond anything they had ever seen or imagined. Something… unnerving.

  Something… potentially straight-up terrifying. The kind of thing you read about in urban legends, not witness in your local gym. This was way beyond 'unexpected'; this was entering 'Twilight Zone' territory.

  The initial dismissal of James, the arrogant ughter, the condescending mockery – all of it just got swept away in a tidal wave of chilling, dawning horror. They had completely underestimated him. They had ughed at him.

  They had basically mocked the face of something they didn’t even begin to understand. And now, they were starting to get a glimpse of the sheer magnitude of their epic mistake. The ughter was long gone.

  The bewilderment was morphing rapidly into full-blown fear. And the game, which had felt so totally in their control just moments ago, was suddenly teetering on the edge of something unknown, something unpredictable, something… monstrous. The power dynamic had shifted, and it had shifted hard.