The first two matches were completed quickly, with S.B.A and B.H. coming as a winner.
Now it is Felix's turn.
"Match on Court Three — City X High School versus Greenwood Academy."
Felix stood.
His opponent was already walking toward the court.
He recognized the type immediately.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Confident stride. The way he spun his racket once before stepping onto the court wasn't a nervous habit—it was performance. The opponent glanced toward the stands, then toward Felix, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Overconfident, Felix thought calmly.
They bowed.
The match began.
The first rally ended quickly—Felix's opponent smashed hard, clean, and loud, the shuttle striking the floor before Felix could even shift properly.
Whoaaa
A small cheer rippled through the stands.
The opponent turned slightly, raising his racket in acknowledgment.
Felix didn't react.
The next rally followed a similar pattern—aggressive attack, fast pace, minimal patience. Felix returned what he could, but the opponent took risks willingly, forcing points early.
Within minutes, Felix was down 5–2.
Whispers moved through the seating area.
Felix heard none of it.
He was watching the opponent's feet.
The stance was wide. Heavy on the front foot. Weight committed too early.
He wants to finish quickly, Felix noted. He doesn't want to stay.
Felix adjusted—not his strategy, just his response.
He lifted deeper. Returned safer. Let rallies extend just a little longer than before.
The opponent frowned when a smash clipped the tape and fell back on his side.
He tried again. Harder.
This time, the shuttle went long.
Felix won the point without celebrating.
Slowly, the rhythm shifted.
Felix didn't attack. He waited.
The opponent began forcing shots—tight angles, ambitious drops. A few worked. Most didn't.
At 11–10, Felix took the lead for the first time.
The opponent laughed sharply, shaking his head. "Lucky."
Felix didn't respond.
He served.
Another long rally. Another forced error.
By the time the first game ended 21–15, the opponent's confidence had dulled into irritation.
Between games, Felix sat calmly, towel over his shoulders, water bottle in hand. His breathing remained even.
Across the net, the opponent paced restlessly, muttering under his breath.
The second game followed faster.
The opponent pushed harder, tried to overwhelm Felix with pace. Felix absorbed it, redirected it, returned it.
At 17–17, the opponent attempted a risky cross-court smash.
Felix anticipated it.
He stepped in early and blocked it cleanly at the net.
Match point followed shortly after.
When the final shuttle landed out, Felix bowed once and stepped back.
Match won.
No fist pump. No glance at the crowd.
Just acknowledgment.
He returned to the seating area, heart rate elevated but controlled.
That wasn't difficult, he thought. He was impatient.
As he drank water and stretched his legs, attention shifted to the adjacent court.
The semifinal between Blue Heritage School and Seven Bells Academy was beginning.
Felix stood near the boundary line, watching.
The difference was immediate.
Blue Heritage's player moved with economy—no wasted steps, no exaggerated motion. Every shot was clean, purposeful. Seven Bells' representative, meanwhile, was compact and stubborn, returning everything with disciplined defense.
The rallies were longer here.
Faster too.
The shuttle moved like a metronome between aggression and resistance.
Felix watched closely.
Blue Heritage pressed forward with sharp drops and sudden bursts of pace. Seven Bells refused to break, stretching rallies, forcing resets.
The crowd leaned in slightly.
Not louder—just more attentive.
Felix studied footwork. Recovery time. Shot selection.
Blue Heritage controls the front court, he noted. Seven Bells controls time.
The match tightened. The tension was tangible even from a distance.
Felix didn't stay until the end.
His own semifinal was about to begin.
"Semifinal match on Court Two—City X High School versus Horizon International."
Felix walked onto the court again.
His opponent this time was different.
Shorter. Leaner. Calm.
No grin. No theatrics.
Just a steady gaze and controlled breathing.
They bowed.
The first rally told Felix everything he needed to know.
The opponent returned safely. Not high, not risky. Every shot landed deep. Every lift had a purpose. No point was given freely.
This wasn't about ego.
This was about patience.
The first game unfolded slowly.
Long rallies. Minimal applause. Both players testing endurance rather than explosiveness.
Felix felt his legs begin to work harder—not strained, just aware.
At 14–14, the opponent tried to trap him in the backcourt.
Felix adjusted his stance.
He returned flatter. Shorter.
The opponent hesitated once.
Felix took that half-second and stepped in.
Point.
The game closed 21–18.
Felix sat during the break, chest rising steadily.
Across the net, the opponent didn't look frustrated. Just thoughtful.
The second game was harder.
Every rally demanded attention.
Felix felt sweat gather at his temples, his grip tightening slightly.
At 16–16, the opponent began targeting Felix's left side repeatedly.
Felix noticed the pattern.
He shifted earlier on the next rally.
Anticipated the return.
Blocked at the net.
The opponent blinked—just once.
That was enough.
Felix pressed gently, not aggressively, guiding the pace instead of forcing it.
At 20–18, the final rally stretched long.
Neither player rushed.
Then—the opponent lifted half a second late.
Felix stepped in and placed the shuttle just inside the line.
The whistle blew.
Match over.
Finalist.
Felix stood still for a moment, letting the realization settle.
From the stands, Radha's hands unclenched. Krishna nodded once, slow and deliberate.
Felix turned toward the scoreboard.
Across the hall, the semifinal between Blue Heritage and Seven Bells had ended.
The board has been updated.
Blue Heritage School – Finalist.
Felix looked up.
Across the distance, the Blue Heritage player stood near the net, towel draped around his neck.
Their eyes met briefly.
No expression.
No challenge.
Just recognition.
High above, near the upper seating where few people bothered to look, the white-haired figure remained still.
Watching.
Waiting.
Felix adjusted his grip on the racket and exhaled slowly.
The final awaited.
And he knew he was going to win.
Final match: City X High School Vs Blue Heritage.
A.N.- I want readers' response on my novel, pls try to comment.