The energy on the field had completely changed.
Just an hour ago, Zaid was an outsider, a random kid no one cared about. Now—he was the name on everyone's lips.
"Did you see that last shot?"
"Bro, he's something else!"
"Three sixes against Shahbaz… no one's ever done that!"
Zaid listened, his heart pounding with excitement.
But he didn't let it get to his head.
He knew the truth—this was just the first step.
Shahbaz walked up to him, still shaking his head in disbelief. "I won't lie," he said. "You're the best player I've ever faced."
Zaid nodded. "You're not bad either."
Shahbaz chuckled. "If you ever want a serious match, come find me."
With that, he turned and left.
The crowd slowly dispersed, but Zaid could still feel their eyes on him. They wouldn't forget this match anytime soon.
And that was good.
Because he wasn't planning to stop.
Zaid walked home that evening with a strange feeling in his chest. Satisfaction? Pride? Maybe a bit of both.
For the first time since his rebirth, he had proved to himself that this world wasn't against him. He had a real chance to make it big.
[ System Notification ]
[ Milestone Achieved: Street Cricket Domination ]
[ Reward: +2 Batting Reflex, +1 Shot Power ]
Zaid smirked.
This system… is really something.
The fact that it rewarded him for real-world performance made things even more interesting.
He clenched his fists.
This was only the beginning.
He needed more matches, better competition. Street cricket was fine, but if he really wanted to go pro, he had to start playing in organized tournaments.
And for that—
He needed money.
His excitement dimmed slightly. His family was barely surviving as it was. Forget cricket gear—even eating two meals a day was a challenge.
But Zaid wasn't going to let that stop him.
He just had to find a way.
Zaid stepped into his house, the excitement from the match still buzzing in his veins.
But the moment he saw his mother's tired face and the dimly lit room, reality hit him like a brick.
There was no celebration waiting for him here.
His mother looked up. "You're late."
Zaid swallowed, nodding. "I was playing cricket."
She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Zaid… we don't have time for games."
His chest tightened.
She doesn't understand.
This wasn't just a game to him. It was his future.
But looking at her worn-out sari, the empty kitchen shelves, the unpaid electricity bill lying on the table… he couldn't blame her.
They were struggling.
And he was dreaming of cricket?
A sharp pang of guilt hit him.
He clenched his fists.
No.
Cricket wasn't just a dream. It was the only way out.
But he needed money to start. Gear, entry fees for tournaments, travel expenses—nothing was free.
And there was only one way to get it.
He had to find a job.
The next morning, Zaid's mother handed him a crumpled envelope.
"Go give this to the school office," she said tiredly.
Zaid's stomach sank.
He already knew what was inside.
The overdue fees.
He had been dodging the school administrator for weeks, but today… there was no escape.
As he walked to school, the excitement from yesterday's match faded into a cold, harsh reality.
When he reached the office, the clerk barely looked at him. "You already know, don't you?"
Zaid stayed silent.
The clerk sighed and slid a document across the table.
"Final Notice: Expulsion Due to Non-Payment of Fees."
Zaid stared at it.
"Come back when you can pay," the clerk said, her voice empty of sympathy.
And just like that—it was over.
No more school. No more uniform. No more routine.
As he stepped outside, the weight of his situation crushed him.
He wasn't just poor. He wasn't just struggling.
He was falling behind.
And in a world where connections and education mattered—that was dangerous.
His grip tightened around the paper.
He had no time to feel sorry for himself.
If school was gone, then fine.
But cricket?
No one was taking that from him.
Zaid walked home in silence.
The expulsion notice crumpled in his hand, but he barely looked at it.
His mother was going to be devastated.
She had fought so hard to keep him in school, hoping that education would save him from poverty.
But now—that door had closed.
And the worst part?
There was no way back.
Even if they somehow got the money later, schools wouldn't take him mid-year.
Zaid clenched his fists.
He had lost his right to a normal future.
But he refused to let that break him.
This didn't mean he was finished.
It just meant he had to find another way.