However, just as Damian was chatting idly with Peter Parker, an orange blur suddenly came roaring from the direction of the basketball court!
Damian looked up and saw a basketball hurtling straight toward his face at astonishing speed. The rush of air even lifted his bangs.
Just as the ball was about to smash into his nose—
"Bang!"
Peter Parker's hand shot out like lightning and intercepted the ball midair, stopping it less than ten centimeters from Damian's face.
The basketball spun several times in his palm before finally coming to a halt.
For a split second, the entire court fell silent.
All eyes turned to the stands.
"Hey! Nerd! Throw the ball back—or are you too weak to even lift it?"
"Hahahaha…"
In the center of the court below stood a boy Damian didn't recognize, hands on his hips, grinning as he shouted.
The basketball team members behind him immediately burst into raucous laughter.
Seeing their smug, unapologetic expressions, Peter Parker's grip tightened on the ball until his knuckles turned white—and the leather let out a faint crunch. He growled:
"They did that on purpose! They definitely did it on purpose!"
Fuming, Peter made to storm down to the court with the basketball to confront them.
But just then, Gwen Stacy hurried over, placing a calming hand on his shoulder.
"Peter, don't be reckless! There are too many of them, and they're clearly looking for a fight. If you go down there alone, you'll just get hurt."
Damian nodded in agreement, gently signaling for Peter to listen to Gwen. Then, with deliberate calm, he took the basketball from Peter's hand and gave it a light toss in his palm.
His eyes swept across the court. The tall boy stood proudly beyond the three-point line, while several teammates mimicked Damian's startled expression from moments earlier—exaggerating it into a ridiculous caricature.
Nearby, Emily and the cheerleaders peeked out from behind the crowd, watching the scene with wide-eyed excitement.
Damian's lips twitched. He sighed softly and muttered under his breath:
"Sigh… no matter the species, everyone's equally annoying when they're in heat."
Then he stood, cradling the basketball in one hand, and spoke in a low voice that somehow carried clearly to every corner of the court:
"You know, back in my hometown, there's a sign in the restroom that perfectly describes your shooting skills:
'If you pee outside the bowl, you're weak. If you can't reach the bowl at all, you're short.'
Not everyone has the courage to confront their own shortcomings. But you? You've done it boldly—in front of everyone!
You are true warriors. I am genuinely proud of you. You should all give yourselves a round of applause… or at least a thumbs-up!"
With that, Damian smiled sweetly and raised a thumbs-up.
"Hahahaha——!"
The crowd fell silent for a heartbeat—then erupted in laughter.
The cheerleaders exchanged glances, some clapping a hand over their mouths to stifle giggles.
The players' smirks froze, their faces flushing crimson. They glanced around, desperate for a hole to disappear into.
"Shut up and give the ball back!" the tall boy in the center of the court roared, his voice trembling with anger and humiliation.
"No problem," Damian replied calmly. "But fair warning—I've never played basketball before. You'd better catch it!"
Without taking a step or winding up, he simply stood where he was and tossed the ball with one hand.
"Whoosh!"
Under the stunned gaze of the entire court, the basketball arced through the air in a perfect parabola—sailing the full length of the court.
"Swish!"
Nothing but net.
At that moment, the entire stadium seemed to freeze.
The basketball bounced a few times on the court, then rolled to the feet of the tall boy.
The cheerleaders dropped their pom-poms. Emily covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide with shock.
The students in the audience stood up in unison—some even rubbed their eyes, convinced they were hallucinating.
The stadium fell into utter silence. Even the sound of breathing and the hum of the air conditioner were clearly audible. Everyone stared, wide-eyed, at the basketball net still swaying twenty-eight meters away.
At the edge of the court, the PE teacher dropped his tactical board with a thud. He gaped at the basket, lips trembling as he counted the distance, muttering hoarsely to himself:
"Twenty-eight meters… one-handed… how is this even possible…?"
In the corner, a student recording the game dropped his phone—the screen frozen on the exact moment the ball swished through the net.
Damian glanced at the motionless scoreboard, shook his head in disappointment, and muttered:
"Tsk~ I thought I'd get three points, but turns out this thing is manually scored.
What a pity~"
With that, Damian turned and walked toward the exit. He waved a hand casually over his shoulder and said calmly:
"This is your first and final warning. If it happens again, I'll use his head as a basketball!"
Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy exchanged a look, quickly gathered their things, and hurried after him.
After walking a short distance, Damian turned into an empty corridor and stopped.
Just as Gwen Stacy thought he might be upset and was about to pull Peter over to comfort him—
Damian's stoic expression shattered instantly. He grabbed Peter Parker's shoulders and burst out excitedly:
"Did you see that?! Did you see that?! Wasn't my performance just now absolutely awesome?!
That one-handed throw!
That perfect shot!
This whole 'forced coolness' act deserves a full ten, right?!"
Peter, equally thrilled, seized Damian's shoulders and grinned:
"More than a ten—definitely a perfect score! Look at those bullies on the basketball team—hehehe… Their faces are uglier than a pizza run over by a truck! Hehehehe…
Too bad I ran out of film! Otherwise, I could've given you a whole set of high-definition, uncensored photos! In three days, I'd have made you a star at Midtown High—and then…"
"Wait, why does that not sound like a compliment?! Are you jealous of me?!!"
"I'm warning you—don't you dare talk nonsense! You know I'm gonna sue you for defamation!
I'm suing you for defamation!
Gwen, he's slandering me!"
"You are jealous! Watch it!"
"Ah! Trying to silence me? Not that easy!"
...
Watching the two idiots—best friends one second, bickering the next—Gwen Stacy stood three steps away, textbook clutched to her chest, one hand pressed to her forehead, lips twitching.
"I must've been crazy to follow these two idiots."