Tuesday morning arrived, and Rohan Roy walked through the gates of St. Peter’s High School looking like a completely different person.
The 48-hour System backlash had fully cleared. Thanks to the Elite Nutrition Pack and the permanent +2 boost to his Physique, Rohan didn’t slouch anymore. His shoulders were broader, his chest was fuller, and his posture carried a calm, rooted confidence.
The moment he stepped into the 10th-grade corridor, whispers erupted like a dry forest catching fire.
"Look, that’s Rohan!"
"Is it true he bowled at 120 km/h in the Sunday tournament?"
"Bro, Kabir said he literally broke Aryan’s middle stump in half!"
"No way, Rohan? The guy who carries the water bottles?"
Rohan ignored the stares, walking straight to his desk at the back of the classroom. Kabir was already sitting there, holding a half-eaten kachori, looking like a proud king.
"The hero has arrived!" Kabir practically shouted, slapping Rohan’s shoulder. "Man, you missed yesterday! The whole school was talking about you. Aryan didn’t even show up, claiming he had ’food poisoning.’ Everyone knows he was hiding his bruised leg!"
Rohan sat down, pulling out his pencil box. "Quiet down, Kabir. We have the math test in five minutes."
"Forget math, bro! You’re a legend now!"
"He won’t be a legend if he fails quadratic equations," a crisp, composed voice chimed in.
Ananya Sharma walked up to their desk, holding a stack of question papers handed out by the monitor. She looked down at Rohan, her sharp hazel eyes assessing him from head to toe. She paused, a subtle flicker of surprise crossing her face.
He didn’t look like the pale, exhausted boy who had sat beside her on Friday. His skin had a healthy color, and his eyes were bright, filled with a sharp, piercing focus.
"You look... better," Ananya said softly, placing a test paper on his desk. "Did you actually study my notes, or were you too busy breaking stumps?"
"I memorized every page," Rohan smiled, adjusting his pen. "Prepare to be dethroned, class topper."
Ananya crossed her arms, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "I’ll believe it when I see the marks, Roy. Good luck."
For the next forty-five minutes, the classroom was silent save for the rapid scratching of pens on paper. Rohan surprised himself. The System hadn’t directly boosted his intelligence, but the intense focus demanded by the Beginner’s Bowling Action Blueprint had somehow sharpened his mental clarity. The numbers and formulas seemed to click into place effortlessly.
When the bell rang, Ananya collected the papers. As she picked up Rohan’s sheet, her eyes scanned his clean, structured working for the final 5-mark question.
She blinked, clearly impressed, and glanced at Rohan. "Not bad, pace demon."
Rohan just gave her a subtle wink.
By 3:30 PM, the final bell echoed across the campus. Normally, Rohan would quietly pack his bag and slip out to avoid Coach Sharma.
Today was different.
As Rohan and Kabir walked toward the main courtyard, they were met by a tall, heavily built boy standing near the sports complex entrance. It was Aryan Singhania.
He was back. He wore his crisp school uniform, but he was limping slightly on his left leg. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with a dark, suffocating rage. Behind him stood Coach Sharma, holding his omnipresent clipboard, looking deeply displeased.
The surrounding students immediately slowed down, sensing the impending storm. A crowd quickly gathered.
"Rohan Roy," Coach Sharma’s harsh voice boomed across the courtyard. "Step forward."
Rohan stopped, keeping his expression neutral. "Yes, Coach?"
Coach Sharma tapped his clipboard angrily. "Kabir has been running his mouth all over school, claiming you humiliated our captain in some dirty street tournament over the weekend. Is this true?"
Before Rohan could answer, Aryan stepped forward, his voice dripping with venom. "It was a fluke, Coach! He was using a heavy tape-ball on a cracked concrete pitch! It skidded off the rough surface like a rock! Anyone can look fast on concrete with cheap street tricks!"
Aryan turned to glare at Rohan, his fists clenched. "Tape-ball cricket is for low-life street hooligans, Roy. Real cricket is played on a grass pitch with a standard red leather ball. You couldn’t bowl 110 km/h with a leather ball if your life depended on it!"
The crowd murmured. Aryan was making a point that resonated with traditionalists. Tape-ball cricket was notorious for erratic bounce and exaggerated speed due to the light, dense nature of the ball on hard concrete. A red leather ball, weighing 156 grams, was a completely different beast. It required real technique, wrist position, and seam control.
Coach Sharma sneered, looking at Rohan’s worn-out school uniform. "Aryan is right. Street cricket means nothing in the real world. However, as the school coach, I cannot have rumors circulating that a bench-warmer is better than my first-choice opening bowler."
Coach Sharma pointed a thick finger toward the school practice nets.
"The leather ball nets are open right now. Rohan, you will take a fresh red leather ball. You will bowl one over to Aryan in front of the team."
Coach Sharma’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "If you fail to perform, or if you bowl the same garbage wides you bowled last week, I will suspend you from the sports department permanently for bringing street politics into this school. Do you accept?"
Kabir leaned into Rohan’s ear, his voice panicking. "Bro, don’t do it! A leather ball is heavy! You haven’t practiced with leather since you fixed your action! It’s a trap!"
Rohan looked at Aryan, whose face held a triumphant, cruel smirk. Aryan thought he had backed Rohan into a corner. He thought Rohan’s sudden speed was just a illusion born of street cricket.
Rohan slowly placed his school bag on the bench.
He pulled up his System interface in his mind.
[Physical Attributes]
• Physique: 16/100
• Pace (Base): 105 km/h
[Active Skill/Blueprint]
• [Beginner’s Bowling Action Blueprint - 100% Internalized]
Rohan looked up at Coach Sharma and Aryan. His dark eyes were cold, devoid of any fear.
"I don’t need a full over, Coach," Rohan said, his voice ringing clearly across the crowded courtyard. "Give me three balls. If Aryan touches a single one of them, you can banish me from cricket forever."
The crowd gasped. The absolute arrogance of the statement left everyone speechless—including Ananya, who had just walked out of the main building and stopped in her tracks, watching Rohan with wide eyes.
Aryan’s face turned bright red. "You arrogant bastard! You’re dead!"
Coach Sharma’s jaw tightened. "Three balls it is. To the nets. Now."
Rohan picked up a brand-new, hard red leather ball from Coach Sharma’s table. He felt the raised, pristine white seam against his fingertips.
Tape-ball gave me power, Rohan thought as he walked toward the turf pitch. Now, let’s see what the System can do with leather.