As the crowd slowly leave the arena and the komodo players gather shaking their heads.
Elias finally exhaled and walked toward midcourt.
Hands were shaken.
Some Komodo players nodded with stiff respect. Others avoided eye contact. Jimmy barely looked up as he tapped Elias' hand, frustration still burning behind his eyes.
George and Elias met near midcourt.
George then extended his hand to Elias and held Elias' hand a second longer than most.
"You controled the game," George said quietly. Elias met his eyes. "Your defense almost broke us."
Almost.
But not enough.
Both knew the truth.
This hadn't been luck.
This had been execution.
And the Buffalo walked into the tunnel not cheering wildly, not celebrating like fools—
But smiling quietly.
Because now, they knew something the rest of the league was about to learn:
They were no longer just a rebuilding team.
They were a problem.
As the Buffalo enters the Locker Room with Tears, Laughter, and Belief.
The locker room door barely closed before the noise exploded.
Tony jumped onto a bench and shouted, "WE DID IT! WE REALLY DID IT!"
Victor threw his towel into the air.
"Champions! We just beat the champions!"
Santino was laughing and crying at the same time, wiping his face with his jersey.
"Man, I thought I was dreaming out there. I kept waiting for them to go on some crazy run and just kill us."
John Paul sat down hard on the bench, staring at his hands.
"I hit that corner three and I swear my legs almost gave out."
Then Coach Ed stepped in.
He didn't shout.
He didn't smile right away either.
He just stood there, looking at his players—some sitting, some pacing, some hugging, all of them breathing hard like they had just survived a storm.
His voice was low, but it carried.
"You know what I'm proud of?" he said. "Not the score. Not the headlines. I'm proud that not one of you backed down. Not when they trapped you. Not when they hit shots. Not when the crowd turned against you."
He pointed around the room.
"You trusted each other."
Silence filled the room.
Then Victor stood up and walked toward Elias.
He didn't say anything at first.
He just pulled Elias into a hug.
"Man," Victor whispered, "you kept us calm out there. Every time it felt like things were slipping, you slowed it down. You made it feel… possible."
Tony nodded hard.
"Yeah. When you blocked that big dude, I swear it felt like the whole game flipped."
Santino laughed.
"That block? I thought the rim was gonna break!"
Everyone looked at Elias now.
Elias scratched the back of his head, uncomfortable.
"I just… I saw openings," he said. "But you guys made the shots. You set the screens. You ran the lanes. This wasn't about me."
John Paul leaned forward.
"Bro, when two defenders ran at you and you still pulled up from that deep? That's not normal."
Elias smiled slightly.
"Neither is believing you can beat the champs when everyone says you can't."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Tony suddenly yelled, "HEY! ARE WE JUST GONNA ACT LIKE THIS IS NORMAL?! WE JUST SHOCKED THE WHOLE LEAGUE!"
Laughter burst out again.
Someone turned on music from a phone.
Victor started dancing badly.
Santino tossed ice from the cooler.
Coach Ed finally allowed himself a smile.
But inside, he felt something deeper than joy.
He felt validation.
Months of practice. Doubt from analysts. Jokes about being the weakest team.
Tonight, they had answered all of it.
Then in Komodo Locker Room — Silence, Blame, and a Broken Rhythm
The Komodo locker room was the complete opposite.
No music.
No laughter.
Just the sound of lockers opening and closing, shoes hitting the floor, deep frustrated breathing.
Jimmy slammed his towel into the trash.
"I can't believe this," he muttered. "We let that guy control everything."
George sat with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
"We kept switching late," he said. "We never adjusted."
Edmar stood near his locker, arms crossed.
"Because nobody listened when I said we needed to stop trapping him."
Jimmy snapped back.
"So what, it's my fault now?"
"I didn't say that."
"But you're thinking it."
Voices were rising.
Coach Williams finally spoke.
"Enough."
Everyone froze.
He stepped into the middle of the room.
"You want to point fingers? Fine. Start with me. I didn't adjust fast enough. I should've switched to zone earlier. I should've sat George after that second foul and changed the pressure."
He looked at George.
"You played hard. But you got frustrated. And frustration makes you gamble."
Then he looked at Jimmy.
"You're seven-five. But that doesn't mean you jump at everything. That block changed the energy of the whole game."
Jimmy clenched his jaw.
Coach Williams continued.
"This team lost because we stopped trusting each other and started trying to fix things alone."
Silence.
Heavy silence.
Finally, George spoke.
"That guy… Elias… he wasn't just scoring. He was controlling our decisions."
No one disagreed.
Coach Williams nodded slowly.
"Good teams react. Great teams impose. Tonight, Buffalo imposed."
He paused.
"But remember this feeling. Burn it into your heads. Because I promise you—this is not the end of this story."
Some players looked up.
Anger mixed with determination.
The loss hurt.
But it also woke something dangerous.
Out side of both locker rooms the Media Storm — reporters were already waiting.
Cameras.
Microphones.
Bright lights.
Buffalo players walked out first.
Questions flew immediately.
"Coach Ed! How did you prepare for the champions?"
"Elias, were you expecting to dominate like that?"
"Is Buffalo now a playoff threat?"
Coach Ed raised a hand gently.
"We respected the champions so much," he said, calm and firm, "that we prepared like our lives depended on it. We gave our all. That's all there is to it."
A reporter turned to Elias.
"Did you feel like you were in control of the game?"
Elias hesitated.
Then said, "I felt like my teammates trusted me. That's more important than control."
Victor added, laughing, "And I felt like I was gonna pass out half the time."
The mood was light, but respectful.
No trash talk.
No bragging.
Just pride.
Then they respectfully exuse themselves to the reporters.
The Buffalo boarded their bus, still buzzing, still replaying moments in their heads.
Tony kept re-enacting the block.
Santino was scrolling through social media.
"Bro… we're trending."
Victor leaned back, finally relaxing.
Then Assistant Coach Ben's phone rang.
He stepped toward the front of the bus.
Listened.
His eyebrows lifted.
Then he smiled wide.
He turned to the team.
"Alright, listen up!"
Everyone quieted.
"When we reach the Buffalo Arena and you guys fix yourselves up… Team Owner Charles is taking us out for a victory dinner."
The bus erupted.
Tony shouted, "FREE FOOD AFTER BEATING THE CHAMPS?! BEST NIGHT EVER!"
Coach Ed shook his head, smiling.
"Enjoy it, boys. But remember—this win means nothing if we don't back it up next game."
Elias stared out the window, city lights passing by.
He wasn't thinking about dinner.
He was thinking about what this win meant.
The league would watch them now.
And expectations were far heavier than doubt.
Then its the Komodo turn to talk with the Media .
When the Komodo finally stepped out, the media rushed them too.
"What happened tonight?"
"Was this an off night?"
"Did you underestimate Buffalo?"
Coach Williams stood at the podium, calm but firm.
"We are just human," he said. "The ball is round. You win some, you lose some."
He looked straight into the cameras.
"But we thank the Buffalo for a good game. Rest assured… we will never forget this. And we will beat them when it matters most."
No excuses.
Just a promise.
George stood behind him, jaw set.
Jimmy stared at the floor.
This loss would stay with them.
And it would not make them weaker.
It would make them angry.
That night, something shifted in the league.
The champions were no longer untouchable.
And the weakest team?
Was no longer weak.
In two locker rooms, two different fires were burning:
One made of belief.
The other made of revenge.
And somewhere in the middle of it all stood Elias—quiet, steady, knowing that this win wasn't the end of the road…
It was only the beginning of the storm.