The school practice nets were completely surrounded. Dozens of students pushed against the chain-link fence, their eyes glued to the center pitch. Even a few teachers had stopped grading papers on the courtyard benches to watch the spectacle.
Aryan Singhania was in his element. He wore top-tier protective gear—thigh pads, arm guards, and a pristine white helmet. He tapped his English willow bat on the green turf, projecting an aura of absolute professional superiority.
In stark contrast, Rohan Roy stood at the bowler’s mark wearing his regular gray school uniform trousers and a white shirt. He calmly unknotted his school tie, tossed it to Kabir, and rolled his sleeves up past his elbows. Finally, he unzipped his bag and swapped his black school shoes for Monu Bhaiya’s faded blue turf shoes.
"You really think those dirty shoes will give you pace on a green turf pitch, Roy?" Aryan taunted from the crease. "A leather ball weighs 156 grams. It’s a rock. Your scrawny shoulder is going to pop out of its socket!"
Rohan didn’t respond. He simply looked down at the brand-new, cherry-red SG leather ball in his hand.
Aryan was right about one thing: it felt significantly heavier and denser than the tape-ball. The pronounced, tightly stitched white seam dug into Rohan’s fingers. Bowling this effectively required immense wrist strength and perfect biomechanics. If he forced it using his old, jerky action, his shoulder would undoubtedly tear.
Good thing I don’t use that action anymore, Rohan thought, a cold smile touching his lips.
A familiar chime echoed in his mind.
[Ding! Emergency Quest Triggered: The Leather Trial]
The arrogant demand respect, but true power commands fear. Prove that the System’s mechanics transcend street cricket.
Objective: Bowl 3 consecutive deliveries. Do not allow the batsman’s bat to make contact with the ball.
Reward: +10 SP, +1 Line & Length Stat, Unlocking of [Reputation System].
Failure Penalty: Complete humiliation and temporary lock on all Bowling Stats.
Coach Sharma stood by the umpire’s position, his arms crossed over his chest. "Whenever you are ready, Rohan. Three balls. If he touches even one, you are out of the sports department."
Behind the stumps, Kabir nervously crouched down, having quickly strapped on a pair of wicket-keeping gloves.
Rohan took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of fresh cut grass and new leather. He closed his eyes for a split second, visualizing the golden avatar from the Mindscape Stadium.
Rhythm. Gather. Brace. Release.
He opened his eyes. He started his run-up.
It was nothing like his frantic, violent sprint at the DDA Grounds. This run-up was a smooth, rhythmic acceleration. Every stride was measured, perfectly building momentum like a coiled spring.
Coach Sharma’s eyes narrowed. Wait, his run-up... it’s completely different. It’s balanced.
Rohan reached the crease. He leaped, gathering his arms close to his chest to preserve rotational energy. The blue turf shoes slammed onto the grassy pitch. He braced his core, an invisible wall of kinetic energy traveling from the ground up to his shoulder.
His non-bowling arm pulled down violently. His right arm snapped over in a beautifully high, straight arc. His wrist flicked, keeping the seam perfectly upright.
WHOOSH.
The heavy red ball shot out of his hand, a beautiful blur of crimson. It pitched short of a length.
Aryan aggressively stepped onto his front foot, planning to smash a pull shot to humiliate Rohan instantly. But the ball didn’t sit up nicely. Fueled by perfect kinetic transfer, it hit the turf and skyrocketed off the pitch with terrifying extra bounce.
It whizzed past Aryan’s nose, missing his helmet grill by a fraction of an inch.
Aryan flinched violently, falling onto his backside in the dirt.
THUD.
The heavy ball slammed into Kabir’s gloves with a sound like a small explosion. Kabir was pushed a step backward by the sheer momentum.
Silence gripped the nets.
[Delivery Analyzed.]
[Pace: 119.5 km/h]
[Seam Position: Upright (Perfect). Result: Missed.]
Coach Sharma’s jaw went slack. He looked at his clipboard, then at Rohan, utterly bewildered. 119 km/h with a leather ball, bowled by a 15-year-old with a textbook-perfect action? It was impossible. It was the kind of raw talent state selectors drooled over.
Aryan scrambled to his feet, his face pale, his heart hammering against his ribs. The ball had been a literal red flash.
"One ball down," Rohan said, his voice eerily calm, echoing in the silent courtyard. "Don’t fall over, Captain. It ruins your aesthetic."
A few students in the crowd stifled nervous laughs. Outside the chain-link fence, Ananya watched with wide, captivated eyes, her fingers gripping the metal wire.
Aryan aggressively tapped his bat on the ground, his eyes wide and panicked. "Fluke! It was a fluke bouncer! Pitch it up!"
Rohan walked back to his mark, taking the ball from Kabir. He rolled his shoulders. The Beginner’s Bowling Action Blueprint was working flawlessly. The kinetic chain absorbed the shock, leaving his shoulder completely pain-free despite the heavy ball.
Ball 2.
Rohan jogged in. The rhythm was hypnotic. Gather. Brace. Snap.
This time, he pitched it up on a good length, just outside the off-stump.
Aryan, terrified of another bouncer, stayed rooted to his crease. He saw the ball pitched up and instinctively threw his hands at it, executing a wild, desperate cover drive.
But Rohan’s wrist flick had kept the seam perfectly upright. When the ball hit the green turf, the pronounced seam gripped the grass for a microsecond and nipped away sharply.
ZIPP.
The ball deviated just an inch—but an inch was all it took. It flashed past the outside edge of Aryan’s wildly swinging bat.
THUD.
Kabir caught it, a massive grin splitting his face. "Ohhhh! Beaten completely!" Kabir yelled, his voice cutting through the tension.
[Delivery Analyzed.]
[Pace: 120.2 km/h]
[Movement: Slight Off-Seam Deviation. Result: Missed.]
Two balls. Two absolute misses. Aryan was breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his face beneath his helmet. He looked utterly broken, stripped of all his academy-trained arrogance. He was swinging at ghosts.
Coach Sharma was staring at Rohan as if he were looking at an alien. The biomechanics were flawless. It wasn’t street magic; it was pure, unadulterated fast bowling.
"Final ball," Rohan called out, standing at the start of his run-up.
He didn’t want to just beat Aryan’s bat this time. He wanted to leave a permanent mark on the school’s hierarchy.
He looked at the base of the middle stump.
Rohan charged in. His strides ate up the distance. He hit the crease with explosive power, his core braced to the absolute maximum, channeling every ounce of his permanent Physique stat into his shoulder.
He delivered the ball, aiming straight for Aryan’s toes. A yorker.
Aryan saw the red blur rocketing toward his feet. Panic consumed him. He jammed his bat down in a desperate, ugly jab, just trying to get some wood on the ball to save his pride.
He was too slow. The ball was too fast.
The heavy leather projectile sneaked under the toe of his bat.
CRACK!
The sound of solid wood fracturing echoed across the courtyard. The middle stump was violently uprooted from the turf, cartwheeling backward through the air before crashing heavily into the net behind the pitch.
Aryan stood frozen, his bat jammed into the empty turf, staring blankly at the destruction behind him.
For five seconds, nobody breathed.
Then, the crowd of students erupted into a deafening roar.
"He broke the stump!"
"Did you see that pace?! Aryan didn’t even touch it!"
"Rohan just destroyed the captain!"
Kabir ripped off his keeping gloves and ran down the pitch, tackling Rohan in a massive hug. Outside the net, Ananya was smiling brightly, shaking her head in disbelief.
A golden light flashed in Rohan’s vision.
[Ding! Emergency Quest Completed: The Leather Trial]
[All Objectives Met Flawlessly.]
[Rewards Distributed: +10 SP, +1 Line & Length Stat.]
[New Feature Unlocked: Reputation System.]
Rohan gently pushed Kabir off and walked down the pitch. He stopped right next to Aryan, who was still staring at the broken stump, completely humiliated in front of the entire school.
Rohan didn’t gloat. He simply bent down, picked up the shattered wooden stump, and walked over to Coach Sharma.
Coach Sharma looked at the broken stump in Rohan’s hand, then up at Rohan’s cold, calm face. The coach swallowed hard, his previous arrogance entirely evaporated.
Rohan dropped the broken stump at the coach’s feet.
"I believe," Rohan said softly, yet loud enough for the silenced front row of students to hear, "that I am your opening fast bowler now, Coach."