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  Part- 323:

  Without warning, Jel’s grin twisted into something darker. His hand shot out in a sudden, vicious punch aimed straight for James’s face, a blur of movement that would’ve caught most off guard. It was the kind of cheap shot Jel excelled at—an ambush, a test, an invitation to chaos.

  But James didn’t o think. His Sloth View activated in an instant—time stretched, the world moving in syrupy slow motion around him. The twist of Jel’s hips, the ch of his knuckles, the subtle shift in his sta all became as clear as day. The punch wasn’t just fast; it was desperate, telegraphed in the way his whole body leaned into the motion. James could see it all, id bare before him, and it was almost too easy.

  "Too slow."

  He stepped to the side with the smooth grace of someone bored by the entire enter. As Jel’s fist sailed harmlessly past his face, James pivoted on his heel and shifted his weight, already preparing his response. In one fluid motion, his arm came up in a deadly arc—the Kangaroo Cut, a brutal hook desigo punish overitment. The strike erfect, the kind that could kno oppo out cold before they even hit the ground.

  But just as his fist was about to ect with Jel’s jaw, James pulled back at the st sed. He exhaled through his nose, sharp and trolled, releasing the tension in his muscles.

  Jel stumbled forward, off-bance, his punch having hit nothing but air. For a split sed, fusion flickered across his face. Then, as if to mask the momentary pse, he threw his head bad ughed—a raspy, toxic sound that grated against the silence of the stadium.

  "Not bad, pretty boy. You’ve got some moves," Jel said, wiping a ent speck of dust from his sleeve. His grin was back, wider than before, like a shat had just found a new way to coil around its prey.

  James’s eyes were cold, unmoving. "And you’re pretty weak."

  For a moment, the words hung in the air like a dagger poised to strike. Jel’s grin faltered—just for a heartbeat—but then it returned, sharper and more insidious.

  "Weak, huh?" Jel repeated, his voice low and oily. "Funny how people with big mouths choke the hardest when it matters. Don’t fet, James—this isn’t some pyground warm-up. Whech starts, it’s not just about fancy moves or showing off. It’s about breaking people." He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing. "And when the final bell rings, you’ll see who’s really weak."

  James didn’t flinch. "We’ll see."

  Jel chuckled, a sound filled with malice. "Don’t worry. When you’re lying o, staring up at the ceiling, w how it all went wrong—I’ll make sure to wave." He gave a zy salute, turned on his heel, and began to walk away, his footsteps eg through the empty stadium.

  James stood still, watg Jel’s retreating figure, his face as unreadable as ever. He wasn’t angry—Jel’s words rolled off him like water off a stone. Anger was a luxury he couldn’t afford. It clouded the mind, slowed the body. He had no time for it. No time for distras.