Part- 358:

  Before James could respond, **Ryan** shifted beside him, his presence radiating unspoken tension. Jel’s gaze flicked toward Ryan, and for a sed, the two locked eyes—old memories fshiween them like silent sparks. Jel’s smirk deepened.

  “Ryan,” Jel said with a mog tilt of his head. “Still trailing behind, huh? Letting this guy fight your battles for you?”

  Ryan’s muscles tensed, but James rested a hand on his shoulder, a silent remio keep calm. "Let him talk," James muttered, his voice steady.

  Ryan exhaled, ung his fists. He khis wasn’t just about Jel’s taunts—this was about focus. If they let emotions cloud their judgment, they’d lose.

  Jel wasn’t done. “You know, Ryan,” he tinued, his voice dripping with false sympathy, “I thought you’d at least step up today. Or maybe you like sitting on the sidelines, watg others win the fights you should be in.”

  Ryan’s lips curled into a tight, humorless smile. “Funny. That’s exactly what I remember you doing when we were teammates.”

  Jel’s expression darkened for a fra of a sed before his smirk returned. "Guess some things don’t ge, huh?"

  James leaned in slightly, enough to draw Jel’s attention away from Ryan. "You know," James said, his voice low, "for someone who got taken down this m, you’re awfully fident. What’s the pn, Jel? Pretend it didn’t happen and hope nobody notices?"

  The grin on Jel’s face faltered for just a sed—a cra the mask. His teammates behind him shifted awkwardly, clearly aware of the earlier i but unwilling t it up. Jel was their leader, but even leaders stumbled, and the memory of James effortlessly fl him was fresh.

  "Enjoy it while you , pretty boy," Jel shough his words cked the usual bite. "The real fight’s about to begi’s see how long that smug face sts when it’s all on the line."

  James crossed his arms, a small smile tugging at the er of his mouth. “You’re right. Let’s see.”

  From the er of the mat, **Coach Gin** cleared his throat loudly, pulling his team’s attention ba. He shot James and Ryan a warning look—a subtle but firm reminder not to let the taunts get to them. "Save the talking for after the match," Gin said sternly. "We’ve got a championship to win."

  Ryan gave Jel o gre before turning to Coach Gin, muttering under his breath, "I swear, if James wasn’t requesting to face him, I’d wipe that smirk off his face."

  “You’ll get your ce,” James replied with a grin. "But don’t worry. I’ll soften him up for you."

  Ryan snorted. “Just don’t steal all the fun.”

  Jel, standing a few feet away, heard every word, and his lips curled in irritation. His teammates—especially **Shahed**, the sed-in-and—shifted uneasily beside him, sensing the mounting tension. Shahed leaned closer to Jel, whispering, “Let it go. Focus. Don’t let him get into your head.”

  Jel gave a curt nod, though his eyes never left James. “I’m already in his head,” he muttered, more to himself than to Shahed. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

  Meanwhile, **Nabi** and **Keya** huddled together on Banani’s side, whispering strategies while casting the occasional goward the boys. "They’re going to kill each other before the match even starts," Keya murmured, shaking her head.

  Nabi smirked. “If they do, at least we won’t have to carry the team.”