The district stadium looked almost empty beneath the late afternoon sun.

Most players had already completed their training sessions and returned home.

Only a few remained.

Some bowlers worked on yorkers.

A spinner practiced variations alone.

Fielders performed catching drills near the boundary.

And at the far end of the ground—

Sahil batted.

Again.

And again.

And again.

THACK!

The ball flew toward deep midwicket.

Another pull shot.

Another repetition.

Another attempt to improve.

The past week had been frustrating.

Every match followed the same routine.

Warm-up.

Carry drinks.

Sit in the dugout.

Watch.

Learn.

Go home.

Repeat.

No matter how much he improved, he still remained outside the playing eleven.

The district coaches never treated him unfairly.

In fact, they often praised his work ethic.

But praise wasn’t what he wanted.

He wanted opportunity.

The chance to actually play.

The chance to prove he belonged.

Yet every match passed without that opportunity arriving.

And honestly...

it was starting to test his patience.

THACK!

Another short ball.

Another pull shot.

This one flew higher.

Cleaner.

Better.

The bowling machine immediately fired another delivery.

WHOOSH!

Short again.

BOOM!

The ball smashed into the side netting.

Nearby, Kabir watched while leaning against a fence.

"You know," he said casually.

"You look angry every time you bat nowadays."

Sahil removed his gloves briefly.

"Maybe because I’m tired of carrying drinks."

Kabir laughed loudly.

"Fair."

Then he folded his arms.

"But you’re improving."

Sahil rolled his eyes.

"Improvement doesn’t help if you’re sitting outside."

Kabir remained silent for a moment.

Then surprisingly—

his expression became serious.

"That’s where you’re wrong."

Sahil looked at him.

Kabir pointed toward the empty pitch.

"Most players stop improving once they make the squad."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"You didn’t."

That answer actually surprised him.

Because deep down...

he knew it was true.

Many selected players had relaxed slightly after squad announcements.

Sahil hadn’t.

If anything—

he trained harder now.

Because he had a goal.

The playing eleven.

And he refused to let it remain out of reach forever.

The practice continued until sunset.

Only then did Sahil finally leave.

Completely unaware that everything was about to change.

---

The next morning began normally.

Fitness drills.

Warmups.

Fielding practice.

Nothing unusual.

The district squad prepared for another tournament match scheduled for tomorrow.

The regular playing eleven trained together.

The reserves trained separately.

Everything followed the usual routine.

Until suddenly—

a loud shout echoed across the field.

"STOP!"

Every player immediately turned.

One of the district batsmen had collapsed near the square-leg boundary.

The team’s regular finisher.

Rohit Sharma.

Not the famous international player.

Just the district team’s designated middle-order finisher.

The player who usually batted at number six.

The exact role Sahil desperately wanted.

Several coaches rushed toward him immediately.

Players gathered nearby.

The physio arrived moments later.

The atmosphere changed instantly.

Training stopped.

Conversations disappeared.

Everyone watched.

Rohit sat on the grass while holding his ankle tightly.

Even from a distance, the pain looked serious.

The physio examined the injury carefully.

Then helped him stand.

Rohit immediately winced.

Not a good sign.

The head coach exchanged a brief glance with the physio.

Neither looked happy.

The realization slowly spread across the squad.

This wasn’t a minor injury.

The training session ended shortly afterward.

But nobody focused properly anymore.

The injury dominated every discussion.

How serious was it?

Would he recover?

Would he play tomorrow?

Nobody knew.

And because nobody knew—

speculation started immediately.

Several academy players quietly discussed possible replacements.

Others debated batting-order changes.

Meanwhile Sahil remained silent.

Because honestly...

he didn’t want to think about it.

Not yet.

Getting excited felt dangerous.

After all—

the coaches might choose someone else.

Another reserve.

Another academy player.

Someone more experienced.

Someone safer.

Still...

a small part of him couldn’t help wondering.

What if?

---

Later that afternoon, the district squad gathered inside the meeting room.

The atmosphere felt noticeably different.

More serious.

The coaches sat together at the front.

The physio stood nearby.

Rohit wasn’t present.

That immediately confirmed everyone’s fears.

The head coach finally spoke.

"Rohit has suffered a significant ankle strain."

Silence.

The coach continued.

"He is unavailable for tomorrow’s match."

Several players exchanged glances instantly.

There it was.

Official confirmation.

The team had lost its finisher.

The position Sahil desperately wanted.

The coach continued discussing tactical adjustments.

Possible batting combinations.

Match strategies.

Replacement options.

But Sahil barely heard any of it.

His heartbeat had started increasing steadily.

Not because he expected anything.

Because possibility suddenly existed.

And possibility felt dangerous.

Especially after spending so many weeks waiting.

The meeting eventually ended.

Players slowly left the room.

Conversations immediately exploded again.

Everyone discussed the replacement issue.

Who would play?

Who would get selected?

Nobody knew.

Not even the players themselves.

Sahil walked toward the practice nets quietly.

Trying not to think about it.

Trying not to hope too much.

Because hope hurt when things didn’t work out.

---

The evening practice session felt strange.

Every reserve player suddenly looked sharper.

More focused.

More desperate.

Because everyone understood the situation.

One opening existed.

One opportunity.

One place in the playing eleven.

And everybody wanted it.

The coaches observed everything carefully.

Fielding.

Batting.

Fitness.

Attitude.

Nothing escaped their attention.

Sahil threw himself into the session completely.

No distractions.

No speculation.

Just cricket.

Ball after ball.

Shot after shot.

THACK!

Cover drive.

THACK!

Pull shot.

THACK!

Straight hit.

The hours passed quickly.

Eventually darkness started covering the ground.

Players slowly packed their equipment.

One by one, they left.

Until only a handful remained.

Including Sahil.

He sat near the boundary rope while removing his batting gloves.

His body felt tired.

His shoulders ached.

His palms burned slightly.

But mentally...

he felt restless.

Then footsteps approached.

Steady.

Purposeful.

Sahil looked up.

The head coach stood nearby.

Immediately, Sahil straightened.

The coach rarely approached players individually.

Especially reserve players.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

The coach simply looked toward the empty ground.

Then finally—

he spoke.

"You’ve improved."

The statement caught Sahil slightly off guard.

"Thank you, sir."

The coach nodded.

"You adapted faster than expected."

Another brief silence followed.

Then his eyes shifted toward Sahil.

"Do you know why you weren’t selected in the playing eleven initially?"

Sahil thought briefly.

"My technique?"

The coach shook his head.

"Partly."

Then continued.

"You were unpredictable."

That answer surprised him.

The coach folded his arms.

"Some days you looked brilliant."

"Other days you looked reckless."

His voice remained calm.

"District cricket values reliability."

Sahil quietly listened.

Because every word mattered.

The coach continued.

"Recently..."

A small pause followed.

"You’ve become more disciplined."

The compliment felt surprisingly meaningful.

Especially coming from him.

Then the coach looked directly into Sahil’s eyes.

"For the past few weeks..."

"You haven’t complained."

"You haven’t sulked."

"You kept training."

"You kept learning."

The evening air suddenly felt heavier.

Because now...

Sahil sensed where this conversation was heading.

The coach glanced briefly toward the practice pitch.

Then back toward him.

"That’s why I’m talking to you."

His heartbeat instantly increased.

The coach remained silent for a second.

Then finally—

he delivered the words Sahil had been waiting weeks to hear.

"Be ready tomorrow."

Everything seemed to stop.

The stadium.

The wind.

Even his thoughts.

For a brief moment, he genuinely wondered if he had heard correctly.

The coach continued calmly.

"No guarantees yet."

"But prepare as if you’re playing."

Sahil immediately nodded.

"Yes, sir."

The coach studied him carefully.

Almost like evaluating his reaction.

Then he added one final sentence.

"If the opportunity comes..."

His eyes sharpened.

"Take it."

After saying that, he turned and walked away.

Leaving Sahil standing there alone.

Motionless.

For several seconds—

he simply stared toward the empty field.

Then reality slowly returned.

Tomorrow.

Not next month.

Not next tournament.

Tomorrow.

The opportunity he had spent weeks waiting for was finally approaching.

And suddenly—

all the frustration made sense.

The drinks.

The bench.

The observations.

The tactical lessons.

Everything.

Maybe the coaches had been watching all along.

Maybe they noticed more than he realized.

Maybe the opportunity wasn’t as far away as it seemed.

The familiar blue screen suddenly appeared before him.

---

MAIN QUEST

"EARN YOUR PLACE"

Objective:

Break Into District Playing XI

---

Conditions

✔ Continue district training

✔ Improve match readiness

✔ Outperform competitors

✔ Earn coach confidence

---

Reward

Power +5

---

For several seconds, Sahil stared at the glowing screen.

Nothing had changed.

No progress update.

No completion notice.

No rewards.

The system wasn’t interested in promises.

It only recognized results.

And right now—

he still wasn’t part of the playing eleven.

The coach’s words echoed inside his mind again.

"Be ready tomorrow."

Not selected.

Not confirmed.

Just ready.

Which meant the opportunity existed.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

The screen slowly faded away.

Darkness settled over the empty district stadium.

Sahil picked up his kit bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Then he looked toward the pitch one final time.

Tomorrow.

His heartbeat increased slightly.

Tomorrow might become the most important day of his cricket journey so far.

Or it might become another day spent carrying drinks from the dugout.

Nobody knew yet.

Not even him. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

But one thing was certain.

If the opportunity finally arrived—

he would be ready.

And this time...

he had no intention of letting it slip away.