The crowd wasn’t supposed to be this large.

District cricket wasn’t exactly famous for packed stands.

Most matches followed a familiar pattern.

A few parents.

A handful of local cricket enthusiasts.

Some friends of the players.

Maybe a group of school students looking for entertainment.

That was usually enough.

Today felt different.

By the time Kangra District Under-19 arrived at the ground, people had already started filling the concrete stands.

Plastic horns echoed occasionally.

Small groups gathered near the boundary fence.

Several teenagers held phones instead of banners.

Recording.

Waiting.

Watching.

The sight immediately caught Sahil’s attention.

Not because the crowd was enormous.

Because it was growing.

---

"You’re getting famous."

Danish’s voice appeared beside him.

Sahil didn’t even bother looking.

"Shut up."

"I’m serious."

"I’m aware."

"No, I mean actually famous."

That made Sahil glance sideways.

The left-hander pointed toward a cluster of boys near the entrance gate.

One of them noticed Sahil immediately.

His eyes widened.

Then he nudged his friend.

A second later all three started staring.

---

The reaction felt strangely familiar.

And uncomfortable.

---

Three weeks ago, nobody would’ve cared.

Now people recognized him.

The realization still felt ridiculous.

---

The reason wasn’t difficult to understand.

The local cricket pages had been posting clips.

Every district seemed to have them nowadays.

Tiny social media channels run by obsessed cricket fans.

Most barely had a few thousand followers.

Yet those followers watched everything.

Boundaries.

Catches.

Celebrations.

Controversies.

Everything.

---

Apparently, Sahil’s recent finishing knocks had become popular.

Not nationally.

Not even statewide.

Just locally.

Yet local fame still felt weird.

---

A group of school students walked past.

One of them pointed.

"That’s him."

The words reached him clearly.

The boy immediately looked embarrassed after realizing Sahil had heard.

His friends laughed.

The group hurried away.

---

Danish looked far too amused.

"This is entertaining."

"I hate you."

"I know."

---

The conversation ended when the coach called everyone together.

As usual, he ignored everything unrelated to cricket.

The crowd.

The attention.

The excitement.

None of it mattered.

At least according to him.

---

"The opposition has two quality seamers."

That was his opening statement.

Not good morning.

Not good luck.

Straight to cricket.

---

The players gathered around.

The coach pointed toward the whiteboard.

Field placements.

Bowling plans.

Matchups.

Everything looked familiar.

Professional.

Structured.

---

Sahil listened carefully.

Yet a small part of his attention remained elsewhere.

The crowd.

The noise.

The atmosphere.

---

District cricket was changing.

And somehow, he was changing with it.

---

The toss took place shortly afterward.

Kangra lost.

Again.

At this point, losing tosses felt less like bad luck and more like tradition.

---

The opposition captain elected to bat first.

No surprises there.

The pitch looked excellent.

Hard surface.

Even bounce.

Fast outfield.

The sort of wicket batsmen loved.

---

The first innings confirmed exactly that.

---

The opposition openers attacked immediately.

Not recklessly.

Confidently.

There was a difference.

---

Boundaries arrived early.

Then more boundaries.

The scoreboard moved quickly.

The bowlers struggled.

The fielders chased leather.

The crowd enjoyed itself.

---

From deep midwicket, Sahil watched the innings unfold.

The heat pressed against his skin.

Sweat gathered beneath his cap.

Every few overs he adjusted his position and glanced toward the scoreboard.

The numbers continued climbing.

---

Not ideal.

---

The breakthrough finally arrived in the eleventh over.

A mistimed drive.

A sharp catch at cover.

The celebration felt genuine.

Mostly because the fielding side desperately needed it.

---

Unfortunately, the wicket changed very little.

The middle order continued scoring.

Partnerships formed.

Runs accumulated.

Momentum remained stubbornly attached to the batting side.

---

By the fortieth over, Kangra’s players looked tired.

By the forty-fifth, they looked exhausted.

---

The final total eventually settled at:

287/7

---

A strong score.

Not impossible.

Definitely uncomfortable.

---

Inside the dressing room, the atmosphere felt noticeably quieter than usual.

Not pessimistic.

Just thoughtful.

---

The coach stood near the doorway.

Arms folded.

Expression unreadable.

The same look he wore before almost every chase.

---

"Forget the scoreboard."

Several players looked up.

The coach rarely wasted words.

---

"Bat normally."

A pause.

Then:

"If we panic, we lose."

---

Simple advice.

Useful advice.

Yet executing it was another matter entirely.

---

The chase began badly.

---

Not disastrously.

Badly.

There was a difference.

---

The openers survived the first few overs.

Then one edged behind.

---

A few overs later, another wicket fell.

---

The required rate began climbing.

Slowly.

Relentlessly.

---

The opposition bowlers sensed opportunity.

Their fielders became louder.

The crowd became quieter.

---

Aryan attempted to stabilize things.

For a while, he succeeded.

The academy batsman looked composed.

Comfortable.

In control.

---

Then a slower ball trapped him.

Caught at deep cover.

---

The silence that followed felt heavy.

Not because Aryan getting out was shocking.

Because he had looked set.

---

Sahil watched the dismissal from the dressing room balcony.

Then looked away.

There was no point dwelling on it.

The match continued.

---

The problem was that wickets kept falling.

Not constantly.

Just often enough.

---

Every time Kangra seemed ready to build momentum, something happened.

A mistimed shot.

A run-out scare.

A brilliant over.

---

The chase gradually slipped sideways.

---

The crowd noticed.

Crowds always noticed.

---

By the time the final ten overs arrived, the equation looked unpleasant.

Very unpleasant.

---

The scoreboard displayed:

260 needed... 268... 274...

The target remained in sight.

Yet the required rate kept increasing.

---

Players in the dugout stopped joking.

Substitutes stopped wandering around.

Everyone’s attention drifted toward the middle.

---

Because the match had reached the point where outcomes started becoming visible.

---

And the outcome currently looked dangerous.

---

The fifty-over chase eventually entered the forty-ninth over.

The atmosphere around the ground changed completely.

The casual energy disappeared.

The noise became sharper.

Focused.

Anticipatory.

---

The scoreboard now displayed:

Kangra District Under-19 — 260/5

---

Ten balls remaining.

Twenty-eight runs required.

---

A difficult equation.

Not impossible.

But difficult.

---

Several spectators had already started discussing the defeat.

Others checked their phones.

A few began leaving their seats.

---

From the dugout, Danish tightened his grip on the railing.

The left-hander wasn’t batting.

He had been dismissed earlier.

Yet he looked more nervous than some players on the field.

---

The coach remained standing.

Expression unchanged.

Though anyone who knew him well could spot the tension.

---

At the crease, Sahil adjusted his gloves.

Then looked toward the scoreboard.

---

28 needed from 10 balls.

---

The numbers stared back at him.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

---

The bowler began walking toward his mark.

The crowd murmured.

Fielders spread across the boundary.

The opposition captain gathered his team.

---

Everyone understood the situation.

---

One mistake.

And the chase was over.

---

A familiar blue screen appeared briefly at the edge of Sahil’s vision.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

POWER FINISH MISSION

Progress

3 / 5

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Potential Completion Available

Finish Match Chase

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The notification vanished.

---

Sahil exhaled slowly.

The noise around him seemed to fade.

The crowd.

The fielders.

The commentary.

Everything.

---

Only the ball mattered now.

Only the next ten deliveries.

---

High above the ground, dozens of phones pointed toward the field.

Recording.

Waiting.

Without realizing it—

they were about to capture the most important ten balls of Sahil’s career so far.

The noise faded.

Not completely.

Just enough.

The crowd became distant.

The commentary became background sound.

The fielders stopped being people and became positions.

For Sahil, the world narrowed to something much simpler.

A cricket ball.

Twenty-eight runs.

Ten deliveries.

---

The bowler stood at the top of his mark.

Fast bowler.

Right-arm.

Experienced.

The opposition captain had saved him for this exact moment.

The death overs.

The pressure overs.

The match-defining overs.

---

Around the boundary, fielders spread out.

Deep midwicket.

Long-on.

Long-off.

Deep extra cover.

Third man.

Every boundary rider exactly where they needed to be.

---

The message felt obvious.

Try hitting us.

We dare you.

---

The umpire stepped aside.

The bowler began running.

The crowd rose to its feet.

---

28 needed from 10 balls.

---

Ball 1

The delivery landed full.

Almost yorker length.

Fast.

Targeting middle stump.

A good ball.

A very good ball.

---

Months ago, Sahil would’ve tried forcing it.

Would’ve swung too hard.

Would’ve panicked.

---

Not anymore.

---

The Shot Selection Mission flashed through his mind.

Not the screen.

The training.

The repetition.

Hundreds of drives.

Hundreds of decisions.

Hundreds of corrections.

---

Drive.

Commit.

Trust.

---

The bat came down cleanly.

The connection felt perfect.

A sharp crack echoed across the stadium.

---

The ball flew.

Straight.

High.

Long.

---

The bowler spun around.

Long-on retreated.

Then stopped.

---

The ball sailed over his head.

Into the crowd.

---

SIX!

---

The stadium exploded.

---

Commentary erupted through the speakers.

"SAHIL CHOUDHARY GOES BIG!"

"WHAT A START!"

---

The equation changed immediately.

22 needed from 9 balls.

---

At the non-striker’s end, his teammate stared.

Then laughed.

Disbelief mixed with excitement.

---

The bowler walked back slowly.

Very slowly.

---

For the first time all evening—

the pressure shifted.

---

Ball 2

The captain adjusted the field.

More discussion.

More movement.

More nerves.

---

The bowler charged in again.

This time slower.

Wider.

Trying to force a mistake.

---

A clever delivery.

Exactly the type that once caused problems.

---

Sahil saw it instantly.

---

Not because he was gifted.

Because he had seen it thousands of times.

Practice.

Matches.

Training.

Failure.

Growth.

---

The bat sliced through the line.

---

The ball screamed through extra cover.

No elevation.

No risk.

Pure timing.

---

FOUR.

---

The crowd became louder.

Phones appeared everywhere.

People stood on seats.

Children screamed.

Adults forgot to act like adults.

---

18 needed from 8 balls.

---

The dugout came alive.

Players leaned over railings.

Substitutes shouted instructions nobody could hear.

---

Even the coach stepped closer.

Arms folded.

Eyes fixed on the field.

---

Ball 3

The bowler looked angry now.

Not nervous.

Angry.

---

Sometimes bowlers preferred anger.

It felt stronger.

More useful.

---

Unfortunately, anger often produced mistakes.

---

The next delivery arrived slightly short.

Just enough.

---

The decision appeared before the bounce.

---

Pull.

---

The bat whipped across.

The connection felt incredible.

One of those rare moments where everything aligned.

Timing.

Balance.

Power.

Confidence.

---

The ball disappeared toward deep midwicket.

---

The fielder looked up.

Then stopped moving.

---

Because movement was pointless.

---

The ball landed five rows deep into the stands.

---

SIX!

---

For a second the entire stadium seemed to shake.

---

The commentary box erupted.

"HAT-TRICK OF BOUNDARIES!"

"KANGRA ARE ALIVE!"

"SAHIL CHOUDHARY IS TURNING THIS MATCH UPSIDE DOWN!"

---

The scoreboard updated.

12 needed from 7 balls.

---

Now even the opposition captain looked worried.

---

Not concerned.

Not uncomfortable.

Worried.

---

The difference mattered.

---

Ball 4

The field changed again.

More discussion.

More planning.

More desperation.

---

The bowler wiped sweat from his forehead.

Then started his run-up.

---

This delivery landed wider.

Lower risk.

Harder to hit.

---

Sahil adjusted late.

Not enough for a boundary.

Enough for placement.

---

The ball raced toward deep cover.

---

They ran.

One.

Turned.

Two.

---

Comfortable.

Safe.

Valuable.

---

The crowd applauded.

Not because doubles were exciting.

Because everyone understood arithmetic.

---

10 needed from 6 balls.

---

The over ended.

---

As the batsmen crossed, the stadium buzzed with energy.

Nobody sat anymore.

Nobody checked phones.

Nobody discussed defeat.

---

Now they discussed possibility.

---

And possibility was dangerous.

---

Final Over

Ten needed.

Six balls.

---

The new bowler looked terrified.

Not visibly.

Not openly.

Yet Sahil could see it.

The stiff shoulders.

The forced confidence.

The quick glances toward fielders.

---

Pressure affected everyone.

Even bowlers.

---

Especially bowlers.

---

The crowd sensed it too.

---

The first ball arrived.

Length delivery.

Outside off.

---

Drive.

---

The shot came naturally.

No hesitation.

No doubt.

---

The ball split cover and point.

---

FOUR.

---

The sound that followed felt deafening.

---

6 needed from 5 balls.

---

The equation suddenly looked absurd.

---

Four deliveries ago, defeat seemed likely.

Now victory looked close enough to touch.

---

The bowler walked back.

Took a breath.

Started again.

---

Ball 2

Slower ball.

Good one.

Very good.

---

The ball gripped slightly.

Held in the pitch.

---

For a fraction of a second, the old Sahil would’ve attacked.

Would’ve swung early.

Would’ve gotten caught.

---

Not anymore.

---

The bat waited.

Then accelerated.

---

The connection wasn’t perfect.

Didn’t need to be.

---

The ball soared.

High.

Very high.

---

Long-off turned.

Ran.

Kept running.

---

The crowd held its breath.

---

Then the ball cleared the rope.

---

SIX!

---

For a moment, silence.

Not real silence.

The split-second before understanding.

---

Then chaos.

---

Absolute chaos.

---

The stadium erupted.

Players exploded from the dugout.

Spectators jumped barriers.

Teammates sprinted toward the field.

---

The scoreboard flashed.

Kangra District Under-19 Win

---

The commentary became almost unintelligible.

"UNBELIEVABLE!"

"TWENTY-EIGHT OFF TEN!"

"SAHIL CHOUDHARY HAS STOLEN THE MATCH!"

---

His teammates crashed into him.

Hands grabbed shoulders.

Helmets.

Gloves.

Anything available.

---

Someone screamed directly into his ear.

Another nearly tackled him.

A third simply laughed uncontrollably.

---

The celebration blurred together.

---

Then the blue screen appeared.

---

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MATCH COMPLETE

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Result

VICTORY

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Power Finish Mission

Progress Updated

4 / 5

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Successful Chase Finish

Recorded

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Reward Progress

80%

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The screen remained for a second.

Then vanished.

---

But the night wasn’t over.

Not even close.

---

Because dozens of phones had recorded everything.

---

The first six.

The second.

The third.

The final strike.

The celebrations.

The reactions.

Everything.

---

Before the team bus even left the stadium, clips were already spreading.

Local cricket pages posted highlights.

District sports accounts uploaded edits.

WhatsApp groups exploded.

Instagram reels appeared.

---

One video showed the final over from the stands.

Another captured the six over long-off.

A third featured commentary layered over slow-motion replays.

---

The numbers climbed rapidly.

Thousands.

Then more.

---

Inside the bus, Danish stared at his phone.

Then stared again.

Then looked at Sahil.

---

"I think you’ve got a problem."

"What?"

---

Danish turned the screen around.

The clip already had several thousand views.

And it was still climbing.

---

"Oh."

---

"That’s your reaction?"

---

"What reaction should I have?"

---

Danish laughed.

"You just became district cricket’s favorite highlight."

---

Across the aisle, Aryan glanced up from his own phone.

A rare smile appeared.

---

"Not bad."

---

Coming from Aryan, that felt surprisingly meaningful.

---

Outside the bus window, darkness covered the roads.

The season continued moving forward.

The mission continued moving forward.

Everything continued moving forward.

---

Yet somewhere beyond the district level—

beyond the local pages—

beyond the viral clips—

someone else was watching.

Someone who cared very little about social media views.

Someone who cared about talent.

Potential.

Results.

---

And on a laptop screen several districts away, the final six played again.

Then again.

Then one more time.

---

The viewer leaned back.

Interested.

---

For the first time—

Sahil Choudhary had appeared on the radar of people who mattered.

And he had absolutely no idea.