The Cricket System : Rise of the Pace Demon

Aryan took a deep breath, forcing himself to look Rohan squarely in the eyes. He extended his right hand forward.

"Rohan," Aryan said, his voice steady despite the nervousness underneath. "We are on the same team now. I am the captain, and you are my strike bowler. We can’t do this if we are fighting each other. Let’s forget the old rivalry."

Aryan paused, swallowing his remaining pride. "Can we be friends now?"

He held his hand out, leaving himself entirely vulnerable to rejection.

Rohan looked at the outstretched hand, his mind racing. Just a few months ago, this was the arrogant elite boy who had looked down on him and Kabir. But as Rohan stared into Aryan’s eyes, he saw no mockery. He saw genuine determination.

He is right, Rohan thought to himself, his tactical instincts aligning with the situation. This isn’t a school ground anymore. This is the state selection camp. If we want to win and make the final cut, we have to play as a unified team. A divided house will crumble on the pitch.

Rohan stepped forward. He reached out and firmly grasped Aryan’s hand, giving it a solid shake.

"If you are willing to leave the past behind and step toward the future," Rohan said, his tone serious but devoid of malice, "then I won’t step back either. Okay, Aryan. From today, we are friends."

A massive wave of relief washed over Aryan’s face. He nodded firmly. The toxic rivalry that had defined their past was officially buried, replaced by a newly forged alliance.

The Next Day: July 15th

8:00 AM - Varun Jaitley Stadium Practice Nets

The morning air was crisp, filled with the sharp, echoing thwack of leather balls hitting willow bats across a dozen practice nets.

In Net Number 4, Kabir was fully padded up, standing in his batting stance with a level of intense focus Rohan had never seen from him before. He wasn’t joking around. He wasn’t chewing gum. He was entirely locked in.

At the bowling crease, Rohan took a long breath, clutching the red leather ball. Without his System interface to guide his run-up or monitor his stamina, he had to rely entirely on raw muscle memory.

He sprinted in, his boots digging into the turf, and unleashed a ferocious delivery. The ball tore down the pitch at a blistering 135 km/h, aiming straight for the top of the off-stump.

But instead of panicking, Kabir seamlessly moved his feet, brought his bat down with textbook precision, and executed a flawless defensive block. The ball dropped dead at his feet.

"Good ball, Rohan!" Kabir called out, tapping the pitch with his bat. "But you’ll have to bowl faster than that to get through my defense today!"

Rohan smiled, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

Kabir has improved so much, Rohan thought to himself as he walked back to his run-up mark. He promised his father he would take this seriously, and he really meant it. His footwork is so much faster.

Rohan looked down at the ball in his hand, feeling the raised seam against his calloused fingers. Monu Bhaiya’s words echoed in his head. ’Pace is not everything. You have to focus on your line, your length, and your swing.’

If Kabir is leveling up, I need to work twice as hard, Rohan resolved internally. Without the AI holding my hand for the next few days, I have to manually correct my line and length. I need to be precise. And the absolute second my System comes back online... I have to unlock the Swing Masteries. Raw pace won’t be enough to survive this camp.

12:00 PM - The Main Stadium Stands

By noon, the intense summer sun was beating down on the stadium. Rohan, having showered and changed into his casual clothes, walked up the concrete steps into the spectator stands.

He looked out over the massive, manicured green outfield. The first official match of the selection camp had begun: Team No. 2 vs. Team No. 6.

Rohan found a seat near the pavilion, his eyes immediately locking onto the pitch. Team 2 was batting first, and the giant digital scoreboard looming over the stadium painted a terrifying picture.

Overs: 20.0 | Score: 175/2

Rohan’s jaw dropped slightly. One hundred and seventy-five runs in just twenty overs? In a fifty-over match? That’s a T20 run rate!

He squinted, focusing on the batsman currently taking strike. It was a familiar face.

Standing at the crease, looking incredibly relaxed and arrogantly confident, was Joy—their silent, headphone-wearing roommate. Joy wasn’t just batting; he was systematically destroying Team 6’s bowling attack.

A fast bowler ran in and bowled a bouncer. Joy didn’t even flinch. He swiveled on his back foot and violently pulled the ball, sending it soaring high into the stands for a massive six.

Joy: 82 (60 balls)*

Rohan watched in stunned silence as Joy commanded the pitch like a tyrant. He had absolute perfect timing, brutal power, and an arrogant flair that demoralized the opposition. He treated the elite bowlers of Team 6 like absolute amateurs.

For the next three hours, Rohan didn’t move from his seat. He watched the absolute slaughter unfold.

By the end of the first innings, the scoreboard looked like a nightmare for any bowling side.

Team No. 2: 367/7 (50 Overs)

Joy walked off the pitch, raising his bat to the polite applause of the coaching staff in the pavilion. He had played a monstrous, unbelievable knock.

Joy’s Final Score: 168 runs off 118 balls.

The second innings was a mere formality. The sheer psychological pressure of chasing a 368-run target completely broke Team 6. They crumbled under the pressure, losing wickets in quick succession.

End of Match: Team No. 6 All Out for 207.

Result: Team No. 2 wins by 160 runs.

As the teams shook hands on the field, Rohan leaned against the metal railing of the stands, his eyes fixed intensely on Joy.

Any normal bowler would be terrified of facing a batsman who had just scored 168 runs with such violent ease. But Rohan wasn’t normal. The unyielding fire of the ’Pace Demon’ flared violently in his chest.

We are definitely going to have to be careful of Team 2, Rohan thought, a slow, predatory smile creeping onto his face. But Joy... oh, it is going to be so much fun bowling to you. Just wait for me.

10:00 PM - Hostel Room 36

The room was quiet. Joy was already asleep on his bunk, his headphones still wrapped around his neck. Aryan was meticulously oiling his bat, while Kabir was softly snoring on the bottom bunk.

Rohan was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, mentally going over his bowling action for tomorrow’s debut match.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated against his mattress. The caller ID flashed: Monu Bhaiya.

Rohan immediately picked up, stepping quietly out into the empty hallway so as not to wake his roommates.

"Hello, Monu Bhaiya?" Rohan whispered.

"Hey, kid," Monu’s familiar voice crackled through the speaker. "I was just checking in. Did you have a match today? How did it go? And more importantly... is anyone bothering you in the camp?"

Rohan smiled, touched by his mentor’s constant vigilance. "No, Bhaiya. I didn’t have a match today. Our first match is tomorrow morning against Team 4. And no, nobody is bothering me at all. We actually made peace with Aryan. We’re a team now."

"That is excellent news," Monu replied, sounding genuinely relieved. "It takes maturity to bury the hatchet. But listen to me very carefully, Rohan. Tomorrow is your first real test on a state-level pitch."

"I’m ready, Bhaiya. I’ve been visualizing my lines all day."

"I know your pace is ready," Monu said, his tone turning serious and authoritative. "But I need your mind to be ready. In state-level cricket, the opponents will do everything they can to break your rhythm. They will sledge you. They will pass comments, insult you, and try to make you angry."

Rohan gripped the phone a little tighter, leaning against the cool wall of the corridor.

"If you get angry, you lose your line. If you lose your line, you get hit for boundaries," Monu warned. "Do not engage with them. Let them bark. A fast bowler does not answer with his mouth; he answers with the leather ball. Keep your mind completely calm. Turn their insults into fuel, but do not let it cloud your judgment. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Bhaiya," Rohan replied firmly, his eyes hardening with resolve. "I won’t let them get into my head."

"Good," Monu said softly, the pride evident in his voice. "Get some sleep, Pace Demon. All the best for the match tomorrow."

"Thank you, Bhaiya. Goodnight."

Rohan hung up the phone. He looked out the window at the towering floodlights of the stadium, standing dark and silent in the night. Tomorrow, he would walk onto that manicured green grass. Tomorrow, he would finally unleash his pace on the state’s best.

And he was going to do it entirely on his own.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!