The late afternoon sun hung low over Delhi, turning the dust in the air into a golden haze. The neighborhood ground wasn't much—just a flat patch of earth, two rusted practice nets, and a few wooden benches under a banyan tree—but to Ajay, it looked like the gates to redemption.
The sound of a ball striking willow rang out from one of the nets. Kids in faded cricket shirts bowled in turns, laughing and calling each other names between deliveries.
Ajay stepped onto the field with his old SS Turbo bat slung over his shoulder. The grip was worn, the edges chipped from years of use, but it was still balanced, still alive in his hands.
The First Strike
He didn't waste time with greetings. Pulling on his gloves, Ajay walked straight into the net. Mohit, the tall, wiry fast bowler, grinned.
"Arre Ajay, where were you hiding? Come on, let's see if you still remember which end of the bat to hold!"
Ajay smiled faintly. "Just bowl."
The first ball whistled toward him, pitched short and outside off. Ajay stepped forward and sent it skimming through the covers, the ball racing across the dry grass.
Ding.Batting – Level 1 – 1/100
He almost grinned. The system wasn't just real—it was immediate. Every contact, every correct movement, was being counted.
The Hours Roll By
For the next two hours, Ajay batted like a man possessed. He tested every stroke he remembered from his old career—straight drives, late cuts, flicks off the pads.
The system rewarded precision more than brute force. A perfectly timed cover drive gave twice the progress of a sloppy boundary. Even defensive shots registered, though in smaller amounts.
By the time Mohit's arm was sore, Ajay had:Batting – 17/100
He switched to Sanjay's slow spin, dancing down the pitch to loft him over mid-on, then settling back to cut the shorter balls. The skill bar crept upward with every ball.
Fielding Drills
When his batting turn ended, Ajay joined the fielding rotation. They had set up a single stump at one end, and the coach made each fielder collect and throw down from 20 meters.
Ajay dived, slid, and threw with intensity. The dirt stung his elbows, but it was a sweet pain—the kind that told him his body was working the way it should.
Ding.Fielding – 3/100Ding.Fielding – 4/100
In his first life, he'd avoided these drills whenever possible, convinced they weren't worth much. Now he knew better—fielding wins matches. And the system was proof that every effort counted.
Bowling Turn
Though not a frontline bowler, Ajay knew his spin could be a weapon if perfected. He took the ball and began working through his grip variations—off-spin, quicker one, arm ball.
The system didn't just track delivery; it seemed to value line, length, and deception. The moment he bowled one that dipped late and beat the bat, the progress jumped.
After ten minutes: Bowling – 8/100
It wasn't much yet, but it was more than he had ever invested at this stage of his career before.
The Decision
By the time the sun dipped and the shadows grew long, Ajay's shirt was soaked with sweat. The others were packing up, but he stayed in the net, shadow-batting alone.
Every time the bat moved, he imagined the bowler, the length, the swing. He pictured the sound of the ball striking clean in the middle. The system didn't give points for shadow practice—but Ajay knew the muscle memory would matter.
As he finally walked home in the cooling evening, he made a decision.
From today, there would be no missed days. No excuses. Rain, heat, fatigue—it wouldn't matter. Every single day, he would fill those progress bars, one shot, one catch, one sprint at a time.
The path back to cricket glory had begun, and this time, he was ready to walk it to the end.