Friday passed in a blur of ravenous hunger and subtle double-takes.
The jump to 31 Physique and Stamina wasn’t just a number on a blue screen; it was a fundamental physiological rewrite. When Rohan put on his school uniform that morning, the white shirt pulled taut across his chest and shoulders. His mother had stared at him in the kitchen, bewildered as he easily inhaled four heavily buttered parathas and three boiled eggs without breaking a sweat.
At school, the changes didn’t go unnoticed. Kabir kept poking Rohan’s bicep during history class until Rohan threatened to snap his pencil in half. Even Ananya had paused mid-sentence during their locker-side chat, her eyes tracing the new, solid line of his shoulders before she quickly looked away, clearing her throat to change the subject.
But Friday was just the prelude. The real test arrived on Saturday morning.
The St. Peter’s High School mini-bus rattled violently as it hit a pothole on the South Delhi highway. Inside, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. Fifteen boys in slightly faded white cricket kits sat in silence, gripping their heavy kit bags.
Kabir was bouncing his leg so fast it looked like a jackhammer. He was frantically adjusting his wicket-keeping pads for the fifth time.
"I heard Oakridge has an indoor biomechanics lab," Kabir whispered to Rohan, who was sitting next to him, calmly looking out the window. "Bro, their captain, Yashvardhan, scored a double century in the State Under-16 trials last month. A double century! And they have three fast bowlers who train at the MRF Pace Foundation."
"They still use a wooden bat and a leather ball, Kabir," Rohan replied, his voice a steady anchor in the sea of nervous energy. "Physics works the same way for them as it does for us."
"Easy for you to say," Kabir muttered. "You’re built like a tank now. What did you even eat this week?"
Rohan just smiled faintly, pulling up his System interface in his mind.
[Player Profile: Rohan Roy]
• Physique: 31/100 (Amateur Athlete)
• Stamina: 31/100 (Enduring)
• Pace: 105 km/h (Base)
• Active Skill: Beginner’s Bowling Action Blueprint (100% Mastery)
Thanks to the massive Physique boost, Rohan knew his functional pace—the speed he could consistently generate without straining—had skyrocketed. He hadn’t tested it on a radar gun yet, but the effortless power he had felt during Vikram’s gym session told him all he needed to know.
The bus turned off the main road and pulled up to a set of massive, wrought-iron gates bearing the gold-plated crest of Oakridge International School.
As the gates opened and the bus rolled down the manicured driveway, the St. Peter’s boys pressed their faces against the glass.
"Whoa..." someone murmured from the back.
It didn’t look like a school; it looked like a premier country club. The cricket ground was vast, bordered by tall, pristine white sightscreens. The outfield was a lush, flawless carpet of Bermuda grass, completely free of the dusty patches Rohan was used to. Beyond the boundary ropes stood an electronic scoreboard, a luxury most professional domestic stadiums were just beginning to install.
Oakridge players were already on the field warming up. They wore customized, tailored white kits with their school’s roaring lion emblem stitched over their hearts. Their warm-up drills were terrifyingly synchronized, overseen by a dedicated fitness coach and an assistant coach.
When the St. Peter’s boys stepped off their rattling bus, carrying their mismatched kit bags and wearing their basic whites, the disparity was glaring. They looked like a ragtag militia walking into a professional military base.
Coach Sharma looked noticeably intimidated. He adjusted his collar, trying to project authority. "Alright, bags in the visitor’s pavilion! Aryan, pad up for the toss. The rest of you, start your warm-up laps."
Rohan dropped his bag in the small, shaded visitor’s dugout. He laced up Monu Bhaiya’s blue turf shoes, feeling the soft, spongy earth of the premium ground beneath his soles. It was a fast bowler’s paradise.
Out in the center, Aryan walked out for the toss alongside the umpires. Oakridge’s captain, Yashvardhan Ahuja, strode confidently toward them. Yashvardhan was tall, with slicked-back hair and a lean, muscular build. He carried a customized English willow bat that easily cost more than the entire St. Peter’s team equipment combined.
Rohan jogged near the boundary rope, keeping a close eye on the pitch. It was green. Very green. A layer of live grass had been left on the 22-yard strip, meaning the ball would skid, bounce unpredictably, and swing miles in the morning air.
A pace bowler’s dream track, Rohan thought, a predatory thrill shooting through his chest.
At the pitch, the coin went up. Yashvardhan called heads. It landed heads.
Yashvardhan didn’t even hesitate. "We’ll bat first," he said smoothly, his voice carrying over the quiet ground. He looked at Aryan, a condescending smirk on his face. "It’s a good batting track. We’ll put three hundred on the board and let you guys pack up early. You look tired from the bus ride anyway."
Aryan’s jaw tightened, but his usual fiery arrogance was nowhere to be found. The intimidating environment of Oakridge had completely swallowed his bravado. He simply nodded and walked back to the dugout, looking utterly defeated before a single ball had been bowled.
"They’re batting," Aryan mumbled as he reached the dugout, tossing his cap onto his kit bag. "Coach, that pitch is hard as rock. They’re going to slaughter us."
Coach Sharma looked pale. He knew Oakridge’s batting lineup was merciless. He looked at Aryan, his supposed strike bowler, and saw only fear.
Then, his eyes shifted to Rohan.
Rohan was standing calmly by the boundary rope, tossing a bright red, brand-new SG leather ball from hand to hand. He wasn’t looking at the electronic scoreboard or the elite facilities. His dark, intense gaze was locked entirely on Yashvardhan, who was walking back to the pavilion to pad up.
Coach Sharma took a deep breath.
"Rohan," Coach Sharma called out, his voice slightly hoarse.
Rohan turned around.
"You’re taking the new ball," Coach Sharma said, tossing caution to the wind. "Pavilion end. Aryan, you take the other end. Do not pitch it short, Aryan, or they will pull you into the parking lot."
Aryan opened his mouth to argue, to demand the premier bowling end, but the words died in his throat when he looked at Rohan.
A sharp, authoritative chime rang in Rohan’s mind. The world seemed to slow down as a golden notification window expanded before his eyes.
[Ding! Main Quest Triggered: The Giant Slayer]
The elite look down upon the hungry from their ivory towers. Show them that true pace respects no pedigree.
Objective 1: Take the wicket of Yashvardhan Ahuja (State U-16 Player).
Objective 2: Restrict Oakridge International to a score below 150.
Reward: +50 SP, Unlocking of [Advanced Skill Tree], Unique Trait: [Giant Slayer’s Aura].
Failure Penalty: -20 SP, Loss of Reputation.
Rohan read the glowing text, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face. 50 SP and a new skill tree. The System was practically serving up a feast.
He gripped the heavy red leather ball, his thumb resting perfectly along the pronounced white seam.
"Don’t worry, Coach," Rohan said, his voice carrying a chilling, absolute confidence that made even Kabir shiver. "They aren’t scoring three hundred today."
Rohan turned and walked onto the lush green outfield, the ball gleaming in his hand like a weapon ready to be drawn.
The match was about to begin.