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  Part- 330:

  There was a collective *ooh* from the crowd as a few spectators caught the exge. Sourov, watg from the sidelines, muttered, "This guy’s about tret that." Ryan grinned and whispered, "Get the pop ready."

  James’s expression didn’t waver. Months of practid tless oppos had ditioned him to stay calm under pressure, and Ezaz’s attempt to rattle him barely registered. Instead, James slowly lowered his hand, tug it back by his side. His lips curved into the fai smile, a look that said, *You just signed your own doom, buddy.*

  In his peripheral vision, James’s system interface activated, sing Ezaz and dispying his stats:

  **Ezaz — Total Points: 333**

  James smirked internally. 333 wasn’t bad, but it was far from intimidating. With his own strength, dexterity, and experiehis was going to be more of a warm-up than a real match.

  *This match is already mine,* James thought fidently.

  The referee stepped forward, raising his hand and blowing the whistle. The shrill sound echoed through the gymnasium, signaling the start of the bout.

  Ezaz immediately sprang into a, rushing at James with all the speed of an overfident newbie. He lunged forward, attempting to grab James’s colr and pull him off-bance, hoping to catch him by surprise.

  But James didn’t flinch.

  With a subtle shift of his weight, he flowed to the side, dodging Ezaz’s clumsy grip like water slipping around a rock. It was effortless—so smooth that Ezaz’s momentum carried him slightly past James, leaving him awkwardly stumbling forward.

  "Amateur," James muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for Ezaz to hear. He alset he was a newbie too in this world of Judo.

  The urmured, sensing something special was about to happen. James’s teammates leaned forward, eyes wide with anticipation.

  In one fluid motion, James pivoted on the balls of his feet and slipped behind Ezaz, his movements precise and calcuted. His right hand shot out, seg a tight grip on Ezaz’s colr, while his left hand hooked under Ezaz’s arm. Before the boy could react, James twisted his hips, eling all his strength and teique into a fwless Ippon Seoi extbook one-arm shoulder throw.

  The stadium seemed to hold its breath for a split sed. Then—

  **WHAM!**

  Ezaz hit the mat with the grace of a dropped anvil. The heavy *thud* reverberated through the gymnasium floor, making even the spectators wince.

  The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and gasps. Banani High’s bench exploded with appuse, and Coach Gin gave a satisfied nod.

  "Beautiful throw!" Ryan whooped from the sidelines, g so hard it hurt.

  Ezaz groaned, sprawled ft on his back like a discarded a figure. His eyes blinked up at the stadium lights in disbelief, as if w what ic event had just rearranged his world.

  James stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from his uniform with a nont flick of his hand, as if he had just finished folding undry rather than tossing another human being across the mat.

  The referee leaned down to che Ezaz, who remai on his back, staring at the ceiling in stunned silence.

  James turned and casually stepped off the mat, not even b to look back at his oppo. As he walked past the Banani bench, he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for his teammates to hear:

  "Too easy."