The Orlando Hoops gym radiated intensity even in stillness.
Weeks of relentless training had forged steel from raw fire. Each player stood sharper, tougher, faster refined not just by drills, but by desire. They weren't just boys chasing a dream anymore.
They were contenders.
The final whistle of the qualifiers was behind them. Ahead the Division Cup.
Alec Storm stood in the middle of the court, spinning the ball on one finger, gaze hard, calm as the eye of a storm.
Surrounding him were his battle-forged brothers.
Alec Storm – Point Guard
Level: Elite (Prodigy)
The floor general.
His decision-making had accelerated to near-instant reads, turning chaos into rhythm. The overconfidence that once betrayed him had been tempered by respect for both his opponents and his team. His mid-range jumper had become a silent dagger rarely used, always deadly.
Mason Hayes – Shooting Guard
Level: Elite
The sniper with a sharpened eye.
