God of Cricket!-Chapter 63: The Sound of Thunder

Chapter 64: The Sound of Thunder

​The morning after the Delhi heist, the world looked different. Not literally—the sun still rose over the Aravalli hills, baking Jaipur in a golden haze—but the lens through which the world viewed Aryan Sharma had shifted irrevocably.

​He wasn’t just "The Wonderkid" or "The Mumbai Prodigy" anymore. He was the "Match Winner."

​At the breakfast buffet in the Rambagh Palace, the atmosphere was raucous. The foreign players—Shane Watson, Graeme Smith, Sohail Tanvir—were laughing, banging tables, and dissecting the previous night’s victory.

​"Did you see Sehwag’s face when you scooped McGrath?" Shane Watson asked, piling bacon onto his plate. "He looked like he’d swallowed a lemon."

​"I think he was more shocked that a 15-year-old has better knees than him," Aryan quipped, grabbing a glass of orange juice.

​Shane Warne walked in, wearing dark sunglasses indoors—the trademark of a man who had enjoyed the victory party a little too much. But when he spoke, his voice was razor-sharp.

​"Enjoy the eggs, boys," Warne said, pulling out a chair. "Because tonight, we prep for war. Delhi was finesse. The next one? The next one is violence."

​The table quieted down. They knew who was coming to town.

​Kings XI Punjab.

​A team stacked with the "Galacticos" of the format: Yuvraj Singh, Kumar Sangakkara, Mahela Jayawardene. But it wasn’t the batsmen Warne was worried about.

​It was the man who would be steaming in from the pavilion end.

​Brett Lee.

​In 2008, Brett Lee was arguably the fastest bowler on the planet. He wasn’t just fast; he was terrifying. A blonde blur of kinetic energy capable of shattering stumps and bones alike.

​"System," Aryan whispered under his breath as he buttered his toast.

​[QUEST UPDATE: THE IPL DREAM]

​Match 2: vs. Kings XI Punjab.

​Threat Level: Extreme.

​Key Opponent: Brett Lee (Speed: S+).

​Objective: Score 40+ runs against the pace attack.

​Reward: [Skill: Reflex Boost (Passive)] - Increases reaction time by 0.05s permanently.

​Aryan swallowed hard. 0.05 seconds sounded negligible to a layman. To a batsman facing a ball traveling at 155 km/h, it was an eternity. It was the difference between a boundary and a broken jaw.

​The Buildup: Pace is Pace, Yaar

​The training session that evening was focused entirely on one thing: Speed.

​Warne had instructed the throwdown specialists to crank up the bowling machines to the maximum setting. The ball hissed through the air, thudding into the back of the net with a violence that made the domestic players flinch.

​"The machine is bowling at 145 clicks," Warne yelled, holding a stopwatch. "Binga (Brett Lee) bowls faster. And he aims for your throat."

​Ravindra Jadeja stepped out of the net, shaking his hands. "It stings, Warnie. Even when you defend, the bat vibrates."

​"That’s the point, rockstar!" Warne grinned. "He wants to intimidate you. He wants you to back away. If you back away, he wins. You have to stand still. You have to be crazy."

​Aryan stepped in next. He gripped his bat.

​[System Analysis: Simulation Mode]

​Simulating Speed: 150 km/h.

​Reaction Window: 0.4 seconds.

​The machine fired. Whoosh.

Aryan barely got his bat down. The ball struck the splice of the bat, sending a shockwave up his forearms.

​Too fast.

​He had faced fast bowlers in the Ranji Trophy. Munaf Patel was quick. Agarkar was skiddy. But 150 km/h was a different species of delivery. The brain barely processed the visual information before the ball was past you.

​"Focus," Aryan muttered.

​He activated [Focus Lv. 4]. The ambient noise of the stadium faded. His pupil dilation increased.

​Whoosh.

This time, he saw it. A fraction of a second earlier. He presented the full face of the bat.

Thwack.

A solid defense.

​"Good!" Warne shouted. "Again! But don’t just block it, Aryan! Binga will bowl bouncers. Hook him!"

​Hook Brett Lee? Aryan thought. That’s a death wish.

​But that was exactly what the System—and Warne—demanded.

​Match Day: The Fortress

​The Sawai Mansingh Stadium was a sea of blue and pink. The "Hallabol" (Raise your voice) anthem thumped through the speakers.

​The toss took place in the center. Shane Warne flipped the coin. Yuvraj Singh called heads.

It was tails.

​"We’ll bowl first," Warne said, grinning at Yuvraj. "The pitch looks hard. Let’s see if your boys can handle the heat early on."

​Yuvraj, looking relaxed and regal, shrugged. "We have enough firepower to burn any house down, Warnie."

​The rivalry was palpable. Yuvraj was the Prince of Indian Cricket—the man who hit six sixes in an over just months prior. Warne was the King of Spin.

​And caught in the crossfire was the 15-year-old Wonderkid.

​The Kings’ Rampage

​Kings XI Punjab started like a freight train.

​Kumar Sangakkara and James Hopes opened the batting. They didn’t slog; they dismantled the bowling with surgical precision. Sangakkara’s cover drives were poetry, piercing the gaps that Warne tried to plug.

​By the 10th over, KXIP was 85/1.

​Then walked in Yuvraj Singh.

​The crowd roared. Even the home fans couldn’t help but cheer for India’s World Cup hero.

​Yuvraj didn’t waste time. He faced Shane Watson.

Ball 1: Length ball.

Yuvraj simply extended his arms. The bat made that distinct, high-pitched crack that only Yuvraj could produce. The ball soared over long-on. Massive.

​SIX.

​"Oh, that is beautiful!" Harsha Bhogle exclaimed on commentary. "Effortless power."

​Aryan was fielding at point. He watched the ball sail over his head.

​[Observation: Yuvraj Singh]

​Trait: [Clean Striker]

​Weakness: High pace into the ribs. Spin away from the eyes.

​Warne brought himself on. He tried to tempt Yuvraj. But Yuvraj was in "The Zone." He swept Warne for four. He lofted him inside-out for six.

​It was a massacre.

​Kings XI Punjab finished their 20 overs on 166/4.

​In 2008, at Jaipur, 166 was a mountain. It required a run rate of 8.3 per over from ball one, against an attack featuring Brett Lee, Sreesanth, and Irfan Pathan.

​The Chase Begins

​The dressing room was quieter than usual. 167 to win.

​"Listen up," Warne said, strapping on his pads (he wasn’t batting, just nervous). "Lee is going to come hard. Smithy, you and Swapnil need to blunt him. Survive the first two overs. If we lose wickets in the powerplay, we are dead."

​The openers walked out.

​Over 1. Brett Lee.

​The atmosphere shifted. The crowd hushed as Lee marked his run-up. It was long. Rhythmic.

He turned. He ran.

It was like watching a predator accelerate.

​Ball 1:

153.4 km/h.

Graeme Smith barely saw it. The ball thudded into the keeper’s gloves. Sangakkara collected it above his head.

​Ball 2:

154.1 km/h.

Smith tried to fend it off. The ball hit the shoulder of the bat and popped up. Lucky it fell short of gully.

​"He’s breathing fire," Watson muttered in the dugout.

​Smith managed to survive the over, but he looked rattled. The sheer hostility of the pace had put the Royals on the back foot immediately.

​Over 3. Sreesanth.

Sreesanth, fueled by aggression and swing, trapped Swapnil Asnodkar LBW.

Wicket.

Rajasthan Royals: 15/1.

​"Aryan," Warne said, not looking at him. "Go."

​Aryan stood up. He pulled his gloves on tight. He adjusted his thigh pad.

He walked out into the cauldron.

​The Speed Barrier

​As Aryan crossed the rope, the giant screen flashed his stats from the last match.

Aryan Sharma: 69 (44) vs Delhi.*

​The crowd cheered, but it was a nervous cheer. Because standing at the top of the mark was Brett Lee.

​Lee saw the kid walking out. He didn’t smile. He adjusted his headband. He rubbed the ball on his trousers.

​Aryan took his guard. He looked up.

From 22 yards away, Brett Lee looked even bigger.

​[BOSS BATTLE: THE SPEED DEMON]

​Opponent: Brett Lee

​Special Ability: [Thunderbolt] (Deliveries over 150 km/h reduce batsman’s timing window by 50%).

​Current Mood: Hostile.

​Ball 1:

Lee ran in.

Aryan triggered [Focus]. He tried to watch the hand.

The arm came over. Blur.

Instinct.

Aryan decided to leave it.

Whoosh.

The ball passed his nose before he had fully completed the thought of leaving it.

Speed Gun: 152.8 km/h.

​Aryan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Okay. That’s fast. That’s really fast.

​Lee walked back, staring at Aryan. "Too quick for you, schoolboy? Stick to the playground."

​[Mental Strength Check: Passed]

​Response: Silence.

​Ball 2:

Lee wasn’t just fast; he was smart. He saw Aryan back away slightly.

He bowled a yorker.

At 150 km/h, a yorker is a projectile.

Aryan saw the fuller length.

[Reflexes: 81] + [Focus].

He jammed his bat down.

Clang.

The ball hit the bottom of the bat, digging into the pitch. The impact vibrated all the way up to Aryan’s shoulders.

Dot ball.

​"Come on, Aryan!" Watson yelled from the non-striker’s end. "Watch the ball!"

​I am watching it, Aryan thought grimly. It’s just arriving before I can send the fax to my hands.

​Ball 3:

Short ball. The bouncer.

This was Lee’s favorite weapon.

He banged it in halfway down the pitch.

The ball exploded off the surface. It was aimed right at the badge on Aryan’s helmet.

​Time seemed to slow down—but not enough.

The System screamed: [DANGER. EVADE.]

​Aryan didn’t have time to hook. He didn’t have time to sway.

He instinctively dropped his wrists and turned his head away.

The ball whizzed past his right ear, the seam hissing like a snake.

Sangakkara leaped to catch it.

​Speed Gun: 155.2 km/h.

​The crowd gasped. That was a lethal delivery.

​Lee walked down the pitch this time. He stopped right next to Aryan.

"I’m going to take your head off next ball," Lee whispered. "Get a helmet with a grill, mate. You’re gonna need it."

​Aryan looked at the legend. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Fear? Yes.

But beneath the fear, something else was rising.

​Adrenaline.

​He thinks I’m scared. He thinks I’m just a kid.

​Aryan tapped the pitch. He looked at Watson. He looked at the scoreboard.

RR: 18/1 (3.3 Overs).

They were stuck. The intimidation was working.

​"System," Aryan thought. "Activate [Blitz]."

​[WARNING: [Blitz] consumes significant Stamina. Using it against 150 km/h pace increases injury risk on mistimed shots. Confirm?]

​"Confirm."

​A surge of energy flooded his muscles. His twitch fibers primed themselves. The world sharpened.

​Ball 4:

Lee ran in. He expected the kid to be trembling. He expected him to back away to leg.

Lee bowled full, aiming for the off-stump. Pure pace. 151 km/h.

​(To be Continued)