Monday morning did not begin with the cheerful chirping of birds; it began with a world of absolute, agonizing pain.
Rohan tried to roll over in his bed, but his brain’s command was met with a violent, burning refusal from every muscle in his body. His right shoulder felt like it had been detached and carelessly sewn back on. His hamstrings were coiled tighter than steel springs, and his lower back throbbed with a dull, nauseating ache.
He let out a pathetic groan, staring at the cracked ceiling of his bedroom.
[System Notification: Adrenaline Overdrive Backlash in effect.]
[Status: Severe Micro-tears in Muscle Tissues. Extreme Lactic Acid Buildup.]
[Estimated Recovery Time: 38 Hours, 15 Minutes.]
"You weren’t... kidding," Rohan wheezed through gritted teeth.
The door to his room swung open. Mrs. Roy walked in, carrying a basket of folded laundry. She took one look at Rohan’s pale face and the way he was rigidly plastered to the mattress, and dropped the basket.
"Rohan! What happened to you?" She rushed to his side, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead. "Good heavens, you are burning up! Beta, what is wrong?"
Rohan panicked internally. He couldn’t tell her he had blown out his muscles bowling at 122 km/h in an illegal tape-ball street tournament. He quickly slid his hand under his pillow, ensuring the thick envelope containing his ₹2,000 ($ 20.84) prize money was completely hidden.
"I... I think it’s a viral fever, Ma," Rohan lied, forcing his voice to sound weak, which wasn’t very hard to do. "My whole body is aching."
"I told you not to play in the sun for so long yesterday!" she scolded, though her eyes were brimming with maternal worry. "Look at you. You can’t even move. Stay right here. I’m calling your school to say you’re taking a sick day, and then I’m making you some turmeric milk and bringing paracetamol."
As she hurried out of the room, Rohan let out a massive sigh of relief. A sick day was exactly what he needed.
Once he was sure she was busy in the kitchen, Rohan closed his eyes and called out mentally. "System. Open Inventory."
The glowing blue screen flickered to life in his mind.
[Inventory]
• 1x Elite Nutrition Pack
• [Beginner’s Bowling Action Blueprint]
"Extract the Elite Nutrition Pack," Rohan commanded.
Unlike the disgusting grey tubes of basic paste, a small, sleek vial glowing with a faint golden liquid materialized in his hand.
[Elite Nutrition Pack: Contains high-grade cellular repair enzymes, premium protein isolates, and localized pain-dulling agents. Will accelerate healing, but will not bypass the mandated 48-hour rest period.]
Rohan unscrewed the cap and downed the liquid. It tasted incredibly sweet, like rich honey mixed with mint. Instantly, a cool, soothing sensation radiated outward from his stomach, wrapping around his violently inflamed muscles like an ice pack. The blinding pain dulled down to a manageable, deep ache, and his feverish temperature began to drop.
"Much better," Rohan sighed. "Now... let’s see what this blueprint is all about. Activate it."
[Activating Beginner’s Bowling Action Blueprint. Transferring Host consciousness to Mindscape Stadium.]
The cramped walls of his Delhi apartment dissolved.
Rohan found himself standing on the pristine, green grass of the colossal, empty Mindscape Stadium. But he wasn’t alone.
Standing on the pitch, about twenty yards away, was a glowing, golden, faceless humanoid figure. It held a red leather cricket ball.
[Observe and Internalize, Host. This is the biometric standard for a flawless fast-bowling action, optimized for your current body type.]
The golden avatar began to move. It didn’t sprint like a madman the way Rohan did. Its run-up was a rhythmic, building crescendo of momentum. The strides were perfectly even.
As it reached the crease, time slowed down for Rohan to observe.
The Gather: The avatar leaped, pulling its arms close to its body, conserving all its rotational energy.
The Brace: As its front foot struck the ground, Rohan could actually see the energy—represented by flowing blue light—travel from the earth, up the stiff front leg, and directly into the core.
The Release: The non-bowling arm pulled down violently, acting as a lever. The right arm snapped over in a perfectly straight, high arc. The wrist flicked perfectly on the seam.
WHOOSH.
Even in the simulation, the sheer efficiency of the delivery was breathtaking. The ball smashed into the top of the off-stump.
[Your current action, Host, is driven entirely by rage and raw muscular force. You bleed 30% of your kinetic energy through a collapsing front knee and an unaligned wrist. To bowl consistently above 130 km/h without breaking your spine, you must overwrite your muscle memory with this Blueprint.]
Rohan stood in awe. Monu Bhaiya had taught him to brace his core, which had instantly added 12 km/h to his pace. If he could master this entire sequence—the run-up, the gather, the lever-pull—how fast could he go?
For the next four hours, while his physical body rested in bed, Rohan’s consciousness stayed in the Mindscape. He watched the golden avatar bowl hundreds of times from every possible angle, burning the mechanics into his brain.
By late afternoon, Rohan opened his eyes back in the real world. The fever had completely subsided, thanks to the Elite Nutrition Pack and the paracetamol his mother had forced down his throat.
He reached for his phone on the bedside table. He had dozens of missed notifications.
He opened WhatsApp. The class group chat was on fire.
Rahul: "Bro, did you guys hear? Aryan Singhania didn’t come to school today."
Vikas: "I heard he got totally exposed in some street tournament yesterday. Some guy broke his bat and his stumps!"
Kabir: "It wasn’t just some guy, you idiots. It was Rohan! Rohan Roy destroyed him! Clean bowled him twice in one over!"
Rahul: "No way. Rohan? The waterboy? Stop lying, Kabir."
Rohan chuckled softly, his chest vibrating with a dull ache. Kabir was doing a terrible job of keeping a low profile, but Rohan couldn’t deny that reading those messages felt incredibly satisfying. The hierarchy at St. Peter’s was about to shift.
Then, a private message popped up. It was from Ananya.
Ananya: "Kabir is spreading crazy rumors about you acting like a mafia boss at a cricket match yesterday. But he also said you were practically dead by the end of it. Are you actually sick? Are you going to be okay for the math test tomorrow?"
Rohan’s eyes widened. The math test.
In the chaos of the tournament and the System rewards, he had completely forgotten. The test on quadratic equations was tomorrow morning. If he failed, his mother would definitely burn his cricket bat.
He checked his System timer.
[Estimated Recovery Time: 18 Hours, 10 Minutes.]
By tomorrow morning, the Adrenaline Backlash would be completely gone. He would be fully healed, with his new, upgraded stats locked in.
He slowly sat up in bed, wincing slightly, and pulled Ananya’s immaculate notebook from his bag.
He typed a reply to her:
Rohan: "The rumors are highly exaggerated. Mostly. I was a bit sick today, but I’m studying your notes right now. I’ll be there tomorrow. Prepare to lose your top rank, Sharma."
Ananya replied almost instantly:
Ananya: "In your dreams, Roy. Focus on passing first. See you tomorrow. 😊"
Rohan smiled, putting the phone down. He looked at his System Panel one last time for the day.
[Physical Attributes]
• Physique: 16/100
• Stamina: 16/100
System Points (SP): 28
He was slowly climbing out of the trash tier. He had ₹2,000 ($ 20.84) hidden under his pillow, which meant he could afford decent spikes or a proper gym membership soon. He had the respect of the streets, the fear of his rival, and the blueprint to become a true pace demon.
Rohan opened his math textbook, a fiery determination settling in his chest.
The physical grind is paused for today, he thought, picking up his pen. Time to conquer the social and academic grind. I am not going to be a failure in any aspect of my life ever again.