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October 23, 2021. Dubai International Stadium.
I woke up feeling... different.
For the last month, I had felt like I was moving through molasses. My body had been aching, my reactions sluggish, my mind foggy. But as I opened my eyes on the morning the fog was gone.
[SYSTEM ALERT][CALIBRATION: 100% COMPLETE.][TEMPLATE: SIR VIVIAN RICHARDS (AURA) - ACTIVE][TEMPLATE: BRETT LEE (MECHANICS AND PRECISION) - ACTIVE][STATUS: GOD MODE UNLOCKED.]
I sat up. I didn't feel stiff. I didn't feel tired. I felt a hum of energy vibrating under my skin, like a coiled spring made of titanium. I flexed my right hand. It felt powerful.
I went to the nets for the final warm-up.
Virat was batting. He looked focused. "Easy pace, Aarav," he called out. "Don't strain the back."
I smiled. I marked my run-up. I ran in. I didn't push. I just let the new mechanics flow. 152 kmph. The ball whistled past Virat's nose before he could finish his trigger movement.
He stepped out of the nets, eyes wide. "What the..." He looked at Ravi Shastri. "Did you see that?"
I bowled again. To Rohit. 153 kmph. Yorker. Stumps rattled. I bowled to Hardik. 155 kmph. Bouncer. Hardik ended up on the floor.
By the end of the session, the entire team was standing around the net, watching in silence. The "soft" player from the IPL was gone. The Bullet Train hadn't just returned; it had been upgraded to a Maglev.
Virat walked up to me, slapping my chest. "My Bullet train is back now."
October 24, 2021. Match 16, ICC Men's T20 World Cup.India vs Pakistan.
The Dubai International Stadium was a cauldron of noise. 25,000 fans, split down the middle in Sea of Blue and Green. The air was thick with humidity and hysteria. This wasn't just a match; it was an event.
Ian Bishop: "Good evening to the world. It doesn't get bigger than this. The two Asian giants, the biggest cricketing rivals, locking horns in the desert. The atmosphere is electric, the tension is palpable. India vs Pakistan. History vs Hope."
Shane Watson: "And look at the news coming from the center. Aarav Pathak is playing. There were doubts, there were questions about his form, but Virat Kohli has backed his young gun. And if the rumors from the nets are true, he is bowling at the speed of light."
The Toss: Virat Kohli spun the coin. Babar Azam called Heads. It was Tails. "We'll bowl first," Virat said, his voice calm. "Dew will be a factor later on. We want to chase."
The Playing XI:
KL Rahul
Rohit Sharma
Virat Kohli (c)
Aarav Pathak
Suryakumar Yadav
Rishabh Pant (wk)
Ravindra Jadeja
Hardik Pandya
Bhuvneshwar Kumar
Jasprit Bumrah
Varun Chakravarthy
The National Anthems were done. The emotions were raw. The roar when Jana Gana Mana finished shook the stadium foundations.
The Indian team huddled. Virat looked at us. "No fear, no mercy. We push, we pressure, we dominate. Back yourself and attack without doubt."
He tossed the new white Kookaburra ball to Aarav.
"Set the tone."
I caught the ball. It felt light. It felt obedient.
Bazid Khan (Comms): "It is a bold move from Kohli. Opening the bowling with Aarav Pathak? Against Babar Azam and Mohammad Rizwan, who are in the form of their lives? Rizwan has been crushing bowlers in the PSL. This could backfire. Aarav hasn't had a good month."
Murali Kartik (Comms): "Bazid, form is temporary. Class is permanent. Aarav bowls 150. If he gets it right, nobody in the world plays him comfortably and you are now considering form of PSL?"
Bazid Khan: "If he gets it right. But if he sprays it, Rizwan will feast."
I walked to the top of the mark.
The crowd noise was a physical force. INDIA! INDIA!PAKISTAN! BHARAT MATA KI JAI!
I looked at the field. Two slips. Cover point. Attacking field.
Mohammad Rizwan was on strike. He was shadowing his drives, looking confident. He chewed his gum aggressively.
I looked at him. And for the first time, I felt the Viv Richards Aura activate. I didn't feel nervous. I felt... gigantic. I felt like I was looking down at the pitch from a height. I chewed my chewing gum, spun the ball in my fingers, and stared Rizwan down until he looked away to check his pads.
Ball 0.1
I began the run-up. It felt effortless. My legs pumped with the power of the new biomechanics. I wasn't running; I was gliding. I hit the crease. The arm speed was a blur.
148.6 kmph.
Outswinger. It started on the middle stump and swung away late, moving at a pace Rizwan wasn't expecting. He poked at it tentatively. The ball hissed past the outside edge, thudding into Rishabh Pant's gloves.
"Oooh!" The crowd gasped.
Ian Bishop (Comms): "That is serious heat first up! 148 clicks, shaping away. Rizwan had a little grope at that. The radar is on."
I walked back. I didn't say anything. I just stared at the stumps. Rizwan tapped the pitch, nodding to Babar. Tez hai. (He's fast.)
Ball 0.2
I turned at the mark. System: Execute Yorker. Max Velocity.
I ran in. The crowd rhythm matched my stride. Thud. Thud. Thud. I gathered. I leaped. I released.
154.2 kmph.
It was a laser beam. A white streak of lightning. Rizwan had barely finished his backlift. He saw the ball full. He tried to bring his bat down to dig it out. But you don't dig out 154 kmph unless you are ready for it.
The ball bypassed the bat. It bypassed the reaction time.
CRASH.
The sound of the LED stumps shattering was louder than the crowd. The off-stump and leg-stump went in two different directions. The bails lit up zinc-red, flying over the keeper's head.
Rizwan was still in his follow-through, looking at the mess behind him. He looked up, bewildered.
Mohammad Rizwan b Aarav 0 (2)
Ian Bishop (Comms): "CASTLED! THE FURNITURE IS DISTURBED! Look at the pace! Look at the destruction! Aarav Pathak has arrived at the World Cup! 154 kilometers per hour! He has gone right through him! Lock, stock, and smoking barrels!"
Shane Watson (Comms): "That is unplayable! Absolutely unplayable! Rizwan is in the form of his life, and he hasn't even seen that! That is pure velocity!"
I didn't run. I didn't scream. I just stood in the middle of the pitch, spread my arms wide, and looked at the crowd. The Kingly Aura. The Swagger. and looked in the direction of Sachin Tendulkar who was sitting with Shradha. There she was shouting and cheering like all the other fans.
Then Virat jumped on my back. Rohit hugged me. "You beauty!" Virat screamed. "I told you! I told you!"
Bazid Khan (Comms): "Well... I stand corrected. That was... that was rapid. Pakistan under pressure immediately. 0 for 1."
I looked at the replay on the giant screen. The stumps flying. The speed gun flashing 154.2.
And Pakistan had just realized... this wasn't there PSL. This is World Cup.
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The Dubai International Stadium was shaking. The noise wasn't just sound; it was a physical vibration rattling the seats, the floodlights, and the bones of every player on the field. The air was thick with humidity and hysteria.
I stood at the top of my mark, adrenaline coursing through my veins like liquid fire. 0.2 overs. 0 runs. 1 wicket. Mohammad Rizwan, the T20 giant, was back in the pavilion, his stumps shattered by a 154kmph thunderbolt.
Fakhar Zaman walked out to the crease. The left-hander, the hero of the 2017 Champions Trophy, the man who could take a game away in ten balls. The Pakistani contingent in the crowd roared, waving their green flags desperately, needing a hero to stabilize the ship.
I watched him mark his guard. He looked tense. He had seen what happened to Rizwan. He tapped the pitch, looking at the field placements, trying to ignore the burning stare I was drilling into him.
System Check: King's Aura Active. Intensity: 100%.
I didn't feel the usual nerves of an India-Pakistan game. I felt... gigantic. I felt like the stadium was my living room and everyone else was just visiting. I popped a fresh piece of gum into my mouth, chewing rhythmically, staring Zaman down until he nervously adjusted his gloves.
Ball 0.3
I ran in. The rhythm was hypnotic. Thud. Thud. Thud.149 kmph. It was a good length delivery, angling across the left-hander. Zaman, eager to feel bat on ball, eager to prove he wasn't intimidated, threw his hands at it. A full-blooded drive. But the pace defeated him. The ball kissed the surface and zipped past the outside edge before his bat came down. Whoosh. It thudded into Rishabh Pant's gloves with a sound like a pistol shot.
"Ooooh!" The Indian slip cordon went up in unison.
Shane Watson (Comms): "That is beaten for pace! Zaman went hard at it, but the ball was already past him. Aarav is not giving them an inch to breathe. The carry to Pant is phenomenal and I really feeling for Pant."
Ball 0.4
I adjusted the line. Straighter. Attack the pads. 151.2 kmph. It tailed back in late. Zaman tried to flick it, but he was cramped for room. The ball skid off the deck faster than he anticipated. Thud. It hit the pads. "HOWZAT!" I turned, appealing half-heartedly. Pant was screaming, leaping in the air. The umpire shook his head. Going down leg. We gathered for a quick chat. "High," Virat said instantly. "Leg stump missing. But keep hitting that length." I nodded. No review. But the pressure was building. Zaman was dancing on a knife-edge.
Ball 0.5
I banged it in. Short of a good length, aimed right at the body. The "perfume ball." 148 kmph. It climbed viciously. Zaman, looking visibly rattled, realized he couldn't pull this. He decided discretion was the better part of valor. He swayed out of the way, contorting his body to let it pass.
Bazid Khan (Comms): "He needs to tell himself this is a T20 World Cup, not the WTC Final. You can't just leave balls in the powerplay when you are one down. But that pace... it forces you into a shell. He's purely looking to survive."
Ball 0.6
Last ball of the over. I wanted to finish the statement. I ran in. 152.5 kmph. Inswinger. Zaman prodded forward defensively, looking purely for survival. He missed the line completely. The ball sailed over the stumps by a whisker, carrying through to Pant at head height.
End of Over 1.Pakistan: 0/1.Aarav Pathak: 1-1-0-1.
A wicket-maiden to start an India-Pakistan World Cup match. I walked past Virat, who gave me a fist bump that almost dislocated my shoulder.
"Unreal," Virat muttered, his eyes blazing. "Unreal. Keep this heat up."
Bhuvneshwar Kumar took the second over. He swung it, asking questions, but Babar Azam, the classy captain, showed why he is world-class. He leaned into a gorgeous cover drive for four and then clipped one off his pads. 9 runs came off the over. Pakistan breathed. The crowd found its voice again.
Over 3. I was back.
Fakhar Zaman was on strike. He had survived my first over, but he hadn't scored. The pressure of the dot balls was itching at his skin. In T20, dots are poison.
Ball 2.1: Dot. Play and miss outside off. Ball 2.2: Single. Finally off the mark. A nervous push to mid-off.
Babar Azam was on strike. The battle of the kings. I bowled a tight channel outside off. Babar respected it. Defended solidly.
Ball 2.5: Zaman back on strike. I saw him shuffle. He was going to charge. He wanted to break the shackles. He wanted to show he wasn't scared.
I didn't follow him. I didn't bowl short. I pulled the length back just a fraction and rolled my fingers slightly—not a full slower ball, but a 135kmph cutter.
Zaman charged. He swung across the line, aiming for cow corner, expecting the 150kmph pace on the bat. He was early. The ball gripped the surface, turned slightly, and sliced off the top edge.
It went high. Miles up into the Dubai night sky. It swirled towards mid-on. Hardik Pandya settled under it. He waited. He chewed his gum. He took it comfortably.
Fakhar Zaman c Pandya b Aarav 5
Ian Bishop (Comms): "AND HE STRIKES AGAIN! Aarav Pathak is tearing through the top order! Zaman tries to manufacture a shot against the pace, but the extra bounce and the subtle cutter undoes him! Pakistan are two down inside the Powerplay! This young man is having a dream debut in the World Cup!"
I finished my first spell of two overs. Figures: 2-1-2-2.
Pakistan, however, is a team of mercurial resilience. You can never count them out. Reeling at 25/2, Babar Azam and Mohammad Hafeez had to rebuild.
Babar played an anchor role, scoring a sublime 68. They targeted the spinners. Varun Chakravarthy, playing his first big game against Pakistan, struggled with his lengths and leaked runs. Ravindra Jadeja was milked for singles and doubles.
I came back at the death. Over 18. I bowled Yorkers. Wide Yorkers. Reverse swing at 145kmph. I conceded just 6 runs.
By the end of 20 overs, Pakistan had scrapped their way to a competitive total.
Pakistan: 157/7 (20 Overs)
Aarav Pathak: 4-1-18-2. (12 dot balls).
It was a decent score on a pitch that was gripping a bit, but with the dew setting in, creating a wet outfield, we backed ourselves to chase it. 158 was par.
The break was short. The dew was glistening on the outfield under the floodlights, turning the grass into a skating rink.
KL Rahul and Rohit Sharma walked out to open. The two pillars of Indian batting. The crowd chanted their names.
Shaheen Shah Afridi took the new ball for Pakistan. The tall left-armer. He looked possessed.
The stadium was buzzing.
Over 1: KL Rahul took a single on the third ball. Rohit Sharma on strike.
Ball 0.4: Shaheen ran in. He didn't look at the batsman; he looked at the toes. He released the ball. It was fast—145kmph. It started outside leg and curled back in. The banana swing.
Rohit Sharma, usually so good against pace, was late. He tried to whip it through mid-wicket, planting his front foot. The ball smashed into his back pad right in front of the middle stump.
"APPEAL!"
The umpire's finger shot up. It was plumb. Dead plumb.
Rohit Sharma lbw b Shaheen 0 (1)
Ian Bishop (Comms): "GONE! FIRST BALL DUCK FOR THE HITMAN! Shaheen Afridi has set Dubai on fire! That is an absolute peach of a delivery! Full, swinging, fast! India lose their biggest gun in the first over!"
The Indian crowd fell silent. A golden duck for Rohit Sharma. The silence was deafening.
Virat Kohli walked in at number 3. The chants of "Kohli! Kohli!" tried to drown out the Pakistani celebrations. He looked focused, intense. He survived the next two balls, eyes wide, watching the swing.
India: 6/1 after 2 overs.
Over 1.4: Shaheen Afridi again. KL Rahul on strike. Rahul hit a boundary through covers, trying to break the pressure. But Shaheen was in the zone.
Now , Ball 2.1: Good length. Shaping in from the corridor of uncertainty. Rahul leaned forward, trying to play with the angle, trying to turn it to square leg. He played across the line. His bat came down at an angle. He missed.
Clack.
The ball deflected off the thigh pad, grazed the inside edge, and crashed into the stumps. The LED lights flashed zinc-red again.
KL Rahul b Shaheen 3India: 6/2
Shane Watson (Comms): "AND ANOTHER! Shaheen Afridi is spitting fire here! He has cleaned up both openers! India have no answers at the moment! This is high-class left-arm fast bowling. Rahul played around it, totally cramped for room! India are in deep, deep trouble."
The scoreboard read 6/2. The top order was decimated. The Pakistani fans were delirious, their green flags waving in a frenzy. The pressure was suffocating. The ghosts of past collapses hovered over the stadium.
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I jogged onto the field.
Usually, the run to the crease is a blur of routine—check the gloves, check the helmet, visualize the first ball. But today, time seemed to warp. As I crossed the boundary rope, a memory from a life I had left behind flashed in my mind.
October 24, 2021. The Original Timeline. I remembered sitting in front of a TV screen, watching this exact match. I remembered the helplessness. I remembered India crawling to 151. I remembered Pakistan chasing it down without losing a single wicket. I remembered the headlines the next day, the vitriol, the stain on Virat Kohli's captaincy that would never truly wash away. It was the beginning of the end for his era in the white-ball format.
Not today.Not in this life.
As I neared the pitch, a translucent blue notification flickered in my peripheral vision.
[SYSTEM PROMPT][CRISIS DETECTED.][Activate Item: 'Virat Kohli Experience Card']?[Success Rate: 99%]
It was the easy way out. Activate the card, let the muscle memory of the Chase Master take over, and steer the ship to safety. It was safe. It was guaranteed.
I looked at the real Virat Kohli standing at the non-striker's end. He was leaning on his bat, his face a mask of intense concentration, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. He was batting on 3 runs. He needed a partner, not a ghost of his past self.
I don't need a cheat code, I thought, swiping the notification away with a mental flick. I have something better.
[System]:Acknowledged. Engaging Manual Mode.[Template: Sir Vivian Richards (King's Aura) - ACTIVATING...]
I reached the 22 yards. Virat walked halfway down to meet me. He didn't offer a fist bump. He just looked at me with eyes that were burning with a desperate need for a fight.
"He's swinging it late," Virat said, his voice tight. "Don't plant your foot. Watch the hand."
I nodded, adjusting my gloves. "He's bowling well, Skip. But he's just a bowler."
Virat blinked, surprised by the calmness in my voice amidst the chaos.
"We don't defend," I said, my voice dropping an octave, heavy with a sudden, inexplicable weight. "We Score big."
I turned and walked to the crease. I took my guard. Middle stump.
Shaheen Afridi was walking back to his mark. He looked unstoppable. He looked like a force of nature. He turned, his hair flopping, his eyes wild with the adrenaline of two massive wickets. He saw a 21-year-old kid taking guard. He probably saw wicket number three.
But as I marked my crease and stood up, something shifted.
[AURA ACTIVATED.]
I didn't crouch. I stood tall, chest open, bat tapping gently behind my right foot. I popped a bubble with my gum. I didn't look at the fielders. I looked directly at Shaheen.
It wasn't a glare. It was a look of absolute, terrifying indifference. It was the look of a King finding a trespasser in his garden.
The energy radiating from me wasn't visible, but it was palpable. I saw Shaheen falter for a microsecond in his run-up preparation. I saw Babar Azam at mid-off shift his weight uneasily.
The air around the pitch grew heavy. The noise of the crowd seemed to fade into a dull hum.
The Eagle was flying high. But the King had just entered the court.
And the King did not bow.
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