Raj stayed on the training ground well past sunset.
He didn't run drills. He didn't pick up a bat. He just walked. From pitch to boundary, boundary to net lane, net lane to slip corridor. Every meter of ground he traced in silence was a seam—something he was stitching into memory, into muscle, into the emotional thread he would carry when it was no longer just trials, but the national field.
The synthetic lights flickered to life above the turf, casting long shadows behind him. A soft breeze ran across the stadium, carrying voices from the dorms, digital buzz from sponsor zones, and the fading shouts of players reviewing their plays with coaches.
Raj didn't absorb any of it.His silence wasn't passive anymore.
It was chosen.
Inside the media control room, two federation officials were reviewing digital feedback reports from the Gravex vs. Alpha match. The metrics were staggering.
"Match Influence: 96% weighted in Raj's overs."
