Select, measure and strike with the mouse.
Sports that involve balls—whether the compact thud of a tennis serve, the echoing bounce of a basketball, or the thunderous kick of a soccer strike—share a primal thrill. But forget rules, courts, or nets. Imagine a raw, visceral challenge where the objective isn’t to score but to survive. Precision becomes your lifeline; hesitation, your downfall. You’re not swinging a racket or aiming for a hoop—you’re slicing through the air itself, blades meeting velocity in a lethal dance. Every strike demands split-second calculation, every deflection a test of nerve. The ball isn’t a tool—it’s a projectile, and you’re not just playing a game. You’re dismantling momentum, carving chaos into control. One misjudged angle, one flicker of doubt, and the stakes turn fatal. This isn’t sport—it’s survival refined to an art. Ready to trade passes for peril?
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