Zaid lay on his thin mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling. His father's words echoed in his head.
"Dreams don't fill stomachs."
His grip tightened around the handle of his new bat. This wasn't just a dream. It was survival.
A soft knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.
"Zaid?" His mother's voice was gentle.
He sat up as she stepped inside, her frail frame silhouetted by the hallway light. She sat beside him, her hands resting in her lap.
"Your father doesn't hate your cricket," she said after a moment. "He just… fears for you."
Zaid looked down. "He doesn't believe in me."
She placed a warm hand on his. "He believes in security. He's worked too hard to see you struggle."
Zaid exhaled. "But I don't want his life. I don't want to break my back for a few rupees. Cricket is my way out."
His mother studied him, her tired eyes softening. "Then prove him wrong."
Zaid looked up.
She smiled, brushing a hand over his hair. "If this is truly your path, walk it so far that he'll have no choice but to be proud."
A lump formed in his throat. She understood.
His mother stood. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow, you train harder."
As she left, Zaid clutched his bat tighter.
He would prove it—to his father, to the world, and most of all, to himself.
The sun had barely risen, but Zaid was already awake. His body ached from the relentless training, yet he forced himself up.
No excuses. No shortcuts.
As he stepped outside, the familiar dusty ground of the neighborhood felt different today. It wasn't just a place to play—it was his proving ground.
He started with sprints, his worn-out shoes kicking up the dirt. His muscles screamed, but he pushed harder. If he couldn't endure this, how would he survive in professional cricket?
After an hour of running, he moved on to batting drills. His friend Imran, though barely awake, bowled to him with whatever little skill he had.
Thud. Thud. Crack!
Each shot sent the ball flying, and with every swing, Zaid felt more control over his power. But it wasn't enough.
He needed to train against real bowlers, real competition.
Just then, his phone buzzed—a cheap, old model with a cracked screen. A message from Zoha.
Zoha: "Meet me after your training. I have an idea."
Zaid wiped the sweat off his forehead, a small smile forming. Zoha always had ideas. And somehow, they always worked in his favor.
Zaid wiped the sweat from his brow as he finished his final set of push-ups. His body was exhausted, but his mind was sharper than ever. Every drop of sweat was an investment in his future.
Just as he was about to take a break, a familiar chime echoed in his head.
Ding!
[System Notification: You have completed an intense morning training session. Strength +1. Stamina +2.]
Zaid clenched his fists. Finally, some progress.
The system had been silent for a while, but now it seemed to recognize his efforts again.
Ding!
[New Mission: Face a fast bowler above 130 km/h in a net session.]
[Reward: Batting Reflex +3, Shot Precision +2.]
Zaid's eyes narrowed. A real challenge.
Where would he even find a bowler that fast? He barely had access to proper training facilities.
Just then, his phone buzzed. Zoha again.
Zoha: "Come to the academy today. I have something arranged for you."
Zaid smirked. Perfect timing.
He had no idea what she had planned, but if it could help him complete the system's challenge, he wasn't about to refuse.
Time to take the next step.
Zaid arrived at the academy, his heart pounding with anticipation. Zoha stood near the entrance, dressed in casual yet elegant attire, her presence commanding attention. She waved him over with a knowing smile.
"You're late," she teased.
"Blame my training," Zaid replied, adjusting his cricket bag. "So, what's the plan?"
Zoha gestured toward the nets, where a group of seasoned players was already warming up. Among them stood a tall, well-built bowler, effortlessly hurling deliveries at blistering speeds.
"That's Sameer Sheikh," Zoha said. "Plays for the state team. Fastest bowler here—touches 140 km/h."
Zaid's stomach tightened. 140 km/h. The system wanted him to face 130 km/h, but this was beyond that.
Ding!
[Hidden Challenge Unlocked: Face a 140 km/h delivery without getting bowled or caught.]
[Reward: Batting Reflex +5, Shot Precision +3.]
Zaid exhaled slowly. This was it.
Zoha leaned in. "I pulled some strings to get you a few deliveries against him. Don't waste this chance."
He met her gaze and nodded. No fear. No hesitation.
As he walked toward the nets, Sameer glanced at him, sizing him up. "You're the kid Zoha's been talking about?"
Zaid gripped his bat. "Yeah. Let's see what you've got."
Sameer smirked, picked up the ball, and took his run-up.
The first delivery thundered toward him.
140 km/h.
Zaid's instincts screamed at him to move, but could he react in time?