The arena lights were blinding, a thousand eyes shining down like celestial judgment. The atmosphere felt too dense to be just oxygen and noise. It felt sentient, watching, waiting. The first dribble echoed like a heartbeat across the polished Grand Arena floor thud… thud… thud… each bounce sending a tremor through the court like a pulse through a titan's veins.
Chicago Raptors moved with sharp, calculated discipline, each step a slash through the tension, cutting their presence into the court. Their jerseys clung to their skin, dark fabric streaked with sweat not from fatigue, but from the raw, coiled energy of warriors entering sacred combat. Across from them, The Gods stood with a posture so relaxed it bordered on mockery. They didn't stand, they existed towering presences draped in an aura that bent space around them, as if gravity itself acknowledged their superiority.
