The video had crossed fifty thousand views overnight.

Sahil would’ve ignored that fact if Danish had allowed him to.

Unfortunately, Danish had the persistence of a mosquito and roughly the same ability to annoy people.

The moment Sahil entered the district ground the next morning, the left-hander was already waiting near the boundary rope with a grin stretched across his face.

A dangerous sign.

Very dangerous.

Whenever Danish looked that happy, someone else’s peace was usually suffering.

Today, that someone was Sahil.

"Autograph?"

Sahil didn’t even slow down.

"No."

"Photo?"

"No."

"Interview?"

"No."

"Can I sell your bat for profit?"

That finally earned a reaction.

Sahil stopped and stared at him.

Danish immediately burst out laughing.

"You should’ve seen your face."

"I hate you."

"I know."

The left-hander slung an arm over his shoulder as they walked toward the dressing room.

"You’re famous now."

"I’m not famous."

"You’ve got fifty thousand views."

"That’s not fame."

"It is for district cricket."

Unfortunately, that part was true.

The Viral Match had spread far beyond Kangra.

Every local cricket page seemed obsessed with it.

Every sports account had reposted it.

Every cricket group had discussed it.

The final six was everywhere.

And Sahil had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

---

The dressing room buzzed with conversation.

Players moved between benches.

Some cleaned equipment.

Others discussed recent matches.

Several bowlers complained about batsmen.

A timeless cricket tradition.

The atmosphere felt relaxed.

The season had entered a brief gap between fixtures.

No immediate pressure.

No upcoming travel.

Just training.

Yet even inside the dressing room, the Viral Match followed him.

"Hero aa gaya."

Kabir grinned from across the room.

A few players laughed.

Someone mimicked the commentary from the final over.

Another replayed the six on his phone.

Sahil dropped his kit bag beside his locker and shook his head.

A month ago nobody cared what he did.

Now everyone suddenly remembered.

Cricket was strange.

---

The coach arrived moments later.

The room immediately quieted.

No whistle.

No shouting.

No dramatic speech.

The coach simply walked inside.

And everyone stopped talking.

That alone said enough.

His eyes moved across the room before settling briefly on Sahil.

"Good innings."

The compliment arrived so unexpectedly that Sahil almost thought he’d imagined it.

The coach wasn’t a man who wasted praise.

Which made every compliment valuable.

Then the older man continued walking.

The moment passed.

Yet Sahil noticed something.

The players had heard it too.

And judging by the expressions around the room, they were just as surprised.

---

Training began shortly afterward.

The early morning air remained cool.

The smell of damp grass drifted across the ground.

Sunlight stretched slowly over the outfield.

Everything felt calm.

Peaceful.

Almost lazy.

The sort of morning that made cricket seem simple.

Then the coach started fitness drills.

The illusion disappeared instantly.

---

Forty minutes later, Sahil regretted every life decision that had led him there.

His shirt clung to his back.

His legs felt heavy.

His lungs protested every sprint.

Around him, teammates looked equally miserable.

Which provided a small amount of comfort.

Misery enjoyed company.

---

Eventually the suffering ended.

Or transformed.

Depending on perspective.

Because the batting session finally arrived.

And that was when something unusual happened.

---

The system appeared.

Not dramatically.

Not suddenly.

Just a faint blue glow at the edge of his vision.

Enough to make him stop walking.

Enough to make him focus.

The screen expanded.

Words formed one after another.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MISSION COMPLETE

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

POWER FINISH MISSION

5 / 5

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

REWARD GRANTED

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SKILL ACQUIRED

POWER FINISH Lv1

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

For several moments, Sahil simply stared.

Even though he had already seen it after the match.

Seeing it now felt different.

More real.

More permanent.

The achievement had finally settled in.

Five successful chases.

Five finishes.

Countless pressure situations.

Countless lessons.

All leading here.

---

New information appeared.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

POWER FINISH Lv1

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Effects

✔ Better Death-Over Shot Selection

✔ Better Slower-Ball Recognition

✔ Improved Boundary Conversion

✔ Enhanced Chase Composure

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mastery

0 / 500 EXP

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

His eyes lingered on the details.

Better death-over shot selection.

Better slower-ball recognition.

Neither sounded flashy.

Neither sounded magical.

Yet both sounded incredibly useful.

Especially for a finisher.

---

A whistle snapped him back to reality.

The coach.

Practice nets.

Training.

The real world.

The screen vanished.

---

The first batting session felt ordinary.

At least initially.

A few drives.

A few defensive shots.

Some rhythm work.

Nothing unusual.

Nothing revealing.

Then the coach changed the drill.

"Death overs."

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Fielders spread toward the boundary.

Bowlers exchanged glances.

Several players moved closer to watch.

Death-over drills always attracted attention.

Mostly because they were entertaining.

And because everyone secretly enjoyed watching batsmen suffer.

---

The first bowler marked his run-up.

Fast bowler.

Accurate.

Competitive.

Exactly the sort of player coaches trusted in difficult situations.

The first delivery screamed toward middle stump.

Yorker length.

Almost perfect.

Normally, Sahil would’ve needed a moment to react.

A fraction of a second.

A quick adjustment.

A rushed decision.

Today something felt different.

The recognition came earlier.

Before the ball landed.

Almost immediately after release.

His bat came down smoothly.

The ball squeezed past square leg.

Boundary.

---

The connection felt clean.

Natural.

Simple.

Almost too simple.

Sahil frowned slightly.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

---

The next ball arrived slower.

Not dramatically slower.

Just enough.

The sort of variation bowlers relied upon.

The sort that had dismissed him before.

The sort that once caused problems.

His eyes picked it up immediately.

The release.

The grip.

The arm speed.

Everything.

He waited.

Then attacked.

The ball flew over extra cover.

Four more.

---

A few players exchanged looks.

The bowler stared.

The coach watched silently.

Nobody said anything.

Yet Sahil felt it.

Something had changed.

Not his power.

Not his timing.

Something else.

Something harder to measure.

---

The third delivery confirmed it.

A slower bouncer.

A clever ball.

The type designed to create hesitation.

Instead, the decision arrived instantly.

Pull.

The shot raced toward deep square.

Another boundary.

---

The bowler muttered something under his breath.

The coach folded his arms.

And somewhere inside Sahil’s chest, excitement began growing.

Because for the first time since receiving the skill, he could actually feel it working.

Not as magic.

Not as a cheat.

As instinct.

As recognition.

As understanding.

---

The session continued.

More bowlers.

More overs.

More challenges.

The pattern remained consistent.

Yorkers looked easier to identify.

Slower balls felt easier to read.

Decisions arrived sooner.

The hesitation that once haunted him seemed weaker.

Not gone.

Just quieter.

Much quieter.

---

By the time the morning session ended, even Sahil couldn’t deny it anymore.

Power Finish wasn’t changing his body.

It was changing how he processed pressure.

And that realization felt more valuable than any stat increase the system had ever given him.

The morning batting session ended with more questions than answers.

Sahil sat on the boundary rope, a water bottle pressed against the back of his neck, watching the rest of the squad rotate through the nets.

The sun had climbed higher now.

The cool morning air was gone.

Heat shimmered above the practice wickets.

Sweat soaked through training shirts.

Bowlers looked exhausted.

Coaches looked annoyed.

A normal training day.

Yet Sahil’s attention kept drifting back toward the morning session.

Back toward the feeling.

The difference.

The change.

Power Finish.

Level 1.

The skill wasn’t making him stronger.

It wasn’t adding power to his shots.

It wasn’t magically turning yorkers into full tosses.

Instead, it seemed to be sharpening something else.

Recognition.

Instinct.

Decision-making.

The tiny details that separated good finishers from great ones.

And the realization excited him far more than he wanted to admit.

---

"You keep making that face."

Danish dropped onto the grass beside him.

"What face?"

"The face where you’re thinking too much."

"I’m not."

"You are."

"I’m not."

"You literally are right now."

Sahil sighed.

Arguing with Danish was usually pointless.

The left-hander possessed the supernatural ability to remain annoying regardless of evidence.

---

Danish took a long drink of water.

Then pointed toward the nets.

"You looked good."

"Thanks."

"Which means I hate you."

"There it is."

"There what is?"

"The real reason you came over here."

Danish grinned.

"I wanted to ruin the compliment."

"Of course."

---

Before the conversation could continue, another voice interrupted.

"Coach wants you."

The message came from one of the younger players.

Immediately every trace of humor vanished.

Because nobody enjoyed hearing those words.

---

The coach stood near the practice square.

Arms folded behind his back.

Expression unreadable.

As usual.

Several players gathered nearby.

Aryan stood among them.

So did Kabir.

And most of the middle order.

---

The coach waited until Sahil arrived.

Then pointed toward a whiteboard.

Numbers had already been written across it.

Large numbers.

Important numbers.

---

NEED 19 RUNS

6 BALLS REMAINING

3 WICKETS LEFT

---

The group immediately understood.

Match simulation.

Death-over simulation.

Pressure training.

---

The coach looked around.

His gaze settled briefly on Sahil.

Then Aryan.

Then the bowlers.

---

"Today’s lesson."

His voice carried across the practice area.

"What wins matches?"

---

Silence.

---

A few players exchanged looks.

Nobody answered.

Mostly because nobody wanted to be wrong.

---

The coach pointed toward the scoreboard.

"Talent?"

No answer.

"Power?"

No answer.

"Luck?"

Still nothing.

---

The older man nodded.

Satisfied.

---

Then he spoke again.

---

"Decision making."

---

His eyes settled directly on Sahil.

---

"A good finisher makes the right decision under pressure."

---

The statement wasn’t directed only at him.

Yet somehow it felt personal.

---

Because the coach knew.

He had watched the hesitation.

The uncertainty.

The struggles with shot selection.

He had seen everything.

---

Now he wanted to see the result.

---

The simulation began.

---

The first bowler started his run-up.

Fast.

Aggressive.

Focused.

---

Nineteen required.

Six deliveries.

---

The first ball landed wide outside off stump.

Almost yorker length.

---

Months ago, Sahil would’ve chased it.

Forced something.

Created risk.

---

Now?

The decision came instantly.

---

Reach.

Open the face.

Use the pace.

---

The ball raced toward third man.

Boundary.

---

The players watching behind the net reacted immediately.

A few whistles.

A few cheers.

Nothing dramatic.

Yet enough.

---

The bowler walked back.

Slightly irritated.

---

The second ball arrived slower.

A disguised slower ball.

A good one.

---

The release gave it away.

Just enough.

---

The bat waited.

Then accelerated.

---

Two runs.

---

Thirteen required from four.

---

The equation suddenly felt manageable.

---

The simulation continued.

One boundary.

A single.

Another boundary.

---

Eventually the target disappeared.

The chase completed.

The over finished.

---

The coach erased the whiteboard.

Without saying a word.

---

Then wrote another equation.

---

NEED 22 RUNS

6 BALLS REMAINING

---

Several bowlers laughed.

The batsmen didn’t.

---

The next scenario proved harder.

Much harder.

---

Yorkers.

Slower balls.

Wide lines.

Everything designed to force mistakes.

---

For the first time all day, Sahil struggled.

Not badly.

Just enough.

---

He finished the chase.

Barely.

---

The coach nodded once.

Then reset everything again.

---

And again.

---

And again.

---

By the fourth simulation, even the bowlers looked tired.

The constant pressure affected everyone.

Not just batsmen.

---

Yet one thing became increasingly obvious.

---

The more pressure the scenario contained—

the calmer Sahil felt.

---

The realization surprised him.

---

Pressure used to feel heavy.

Now it felt familiar.

Comfortable.

Almost natural.

---

Not because he enjoyed it.

Because he understood it.

---

Every successful chase.

Every failure.

Every lesson.

Every mission.

They had all prepared him for moments like this.

---

Across the practice area, Aryan watched silently.

As usual.

The academy batsman rarely interrupted training.

Rarely offered opinions.

Rarely spoke unless necessary.

---

Which was exactly why everyone noticed when he finally walked over.

---

The afternoon session had ended.

Players packed equipment.

Bowlers stretched tired muscles.

The coaches discussed something near the pavilion.

---

Aryan stopped beside Sahil.

Hands in his pockets.

Looking toward the empty nets.

---

For several moments he said nothing.

---

Then:

"You know what’s annoying?"

---

Sahil raised an eyebrow.

---

"What?"

---

Aryan nodded toward the practice wickets.

---

"You’re starting to enjoy pressure."

---

The statement caught him off guard.

---

Aryan continued.

---

"Most batsmen want easy runs."

A pause.

"You look happier when the match is difficult."

---

Silence.

---

Because there was truth in those words.

A lot of truth.

---

The academy batsman shrugged.

---

"Dangerous habit."

---

Then he started walking away.

---

Three steps later, he stopped.

---

Without turning around, he added:

---

"State bowlers won’t give you half the mistakes district bowlers do."

---

Then he left.

---

The comment lingered long after he disappeared.

---

State bowlers.

---

The words carried weight.

Because they represented the next level.

The next challenge.

The next mountain.

---

And for the first time—

that mountain didn’t feel impossibly far away.

---

The sun began setting behind the distant hills.

Orange light stretched across the outfield.

Long shadows covered the practice square.

One by one, players left.

Until eventually the ground belonged almost entirely to silence.

---

Sahil remained.

---

Bat resting against his shoulder.

Eyes fixed on the empty wicket.

---

The familiar blue glow appeared.

---

The system.

---

It expanded slowly.

Larger than usual.

Brighter than usual.

---

New text formed.

---

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

POWER FINISH Lv1

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Synchronization

43%

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Performance Analysis

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Death-Over Recognition

Improved

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Pressure Response

Improved

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Boundary Conversion

Improved

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The information remained visible.

Long enough for him to study every line.

---

Then the screen flickered.

---

New text appeared.

---

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

CONDITIONS MET

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hidden Path Analysis

In Progress...

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sahil straightened immediately.

---

Because that was new.

Very new.

---

The screen flickered again.

---

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

NEW PATH DETECTED

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

FINISHER EVOLUTION PATH

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Current Status

LOCKED

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Requirements

???

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Reward

???

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The text remained.

Mysterious.

Frustrating.

Tempting.

---

Exactly the way the system preferred operating.

---

A slow smile appeared on Sahil’s face.

---

Another pathway.

Another challenge.

Another goal.

---

The system never stopped.

It never allowed comfort.

Never allowed complacency.

---

And honestly?

That was probably a good thing.

---

The evening wind moved gently across the empty district ground.

The floodlights flickered on one by one.

Far beyond Kangra, stronger opponents waited.

Larger stadiums waited.

Higher levels waited.

---

And somewhere among those future challenges—

the answer to the Finisher Evolution Path waited too.

---

For now, though—

the journey continued.

And Sahil Choudhary intended to keep moving forward.