As the players lined up for the next raid, the air inside Arena Shivneri felt different—thicker, charged. Mohit from the Blue Team stepped onto the mat, tension coiling in his muscles. On the sidelines, Sidarth Sir narrowed his eyes, then slowly closed them, whispering a silent thought across the space between minds.
"Arjun… can you hear me? Let your instincts guide you. You're more than just strength… You're something else."
Arjun stood motionless at the centerline, his eyes locked on Mohit, his presence calm yet unnerving. It wasn't aggression—it was gravity, pulling focus without force.
At the backline, Vikrant watched with razor-sharp intent.
"Mohit's spirit burns bright," he thought, "but Raghav needs to return. If Mohit goes to the pavilion, Raghav will rise. Time it right…"
"Right wing, wait!" Vikrant barked suddenly, startling a few teammates. "Left, step back! Find your positions!"
Mohit was halfway through the mat when his eyes met Arjun's. That moment froze time.
"Mohit," Arjun said, voice low but heavy. "Return."
Mohit's breath caught. His legs, once ready to pounce, hesitated. He turned… and walked out. An empty raid.
The commentators erupted.
"What just happened?!" one gasped. "Did Arjun just end the raid with a look?"
"That's mind control! Or something damn close to it!"
"Pressure's building on Blue Team! That was a wasteful raid!"
Far above the arena, in a forgotten watchtower, three shadowed figures observed the game. One sat cross-legged, motionless. His name was Rudra—calm and coiled like a serpent. A second figure stepped forward.
"That new one… is he the threat?"
"He's not even near Rudra's level," scoffed the third. "Why are we even watching?"
But Rudra only smirked. "Because he was Sidarth Sir's choice."
"Arjun? Don't be dramatic. He's no threat."
Rudra's smile darkened. "Watch the game… then tell me."
Back in the arena, Vikrant stormed in for his raid. Swift, clean, brutal—he flicked, twisted, and Pranav went down. The crowd roared as Raghav was revived.
"Vikrant delivers! Clean tag on Pranav!" cried the commentary box.
"And here comes Raghav, back from the shadows!"
The match shifted again. Arjun returned for Blue Team's next raid, moving like a blade through silk. Three defenders lunged. In a whirl of motion—he tagged them all. Three out.
"Wait—did he just get all three?!"
"SUPER RAID! Arjun is on fire!"
The scoreboard lit up. Blue was back.
Then came Raghav—focused, sharp. He dove, tagged one defender, slipped away, and revived another teammate.
"Raghav doesn't waste time—one out, one revival! Efficiency!"
Momentum surged. Arjun returned. His movements were poetry now—he faked right, darted left, tagged clean. Another point.
"He's dancing through defenses!"
"They can't read him at all!"
"This kid's rewriting the raid book!"
Mohit stepped back into the spotlight next. Determined, burning for redemption. But Ganesh was waiting. Mohit charged.
Ganesh tackled.
The slam echoed through the stadium.
"OH! WHAT A TACKLE by Ganesh!"
"Mohit just ran into a wall!"
And then Arjun returned once more. Silent, scanning, deadly. He darted in, brushed Ganesh's shoulder, and shot back.
"One point for the Blue Team! Clinical precision!"
But Mahendra struck back fast, entering like a missile. A quick move—he tagged Arjun before the latter could react. Arjun OUT.
"That was a trap laid by Vikrant! Ruthless strategy!"
Prashant Sir's eyes narrowed from the bench.
He fell for it. He should've seen it coming.
And Sidarth Sir… he didn't hide his disappointment.
Careless. He can't afford slips like this—not now, not ever.
As Arjun walked off quietly, the crowd's roar dipped into murmurs. Sidarth Sir placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
"You're better than this, Arjun. Don't lose focus. The match isn't over yet."
Somewhere in the shadows above, Rudra smirked.
"Hmm."
Mohit returned again. Desperate now. Eyes burning with need.
But the Red Team was unmoved. Their defense line was stone.
Mohit scanned, faked, waited. Nothing. The whistle blew—another empty raid.
Ganesh entered next for Red. A powerhouse. A battering ram with timing.
He crashed in and took out two—Pranav and Lalit gone in seconds.
"Ganesh just ripped through the defense! What a moment for the Red Team!"
The Blue Team's bench looked hollow. Heads bowed. Shoulders low.
Karan clenched his fists.
We may be cornered… but we're not defeated. Not yet.
Mohit stepped forward once more, his final raid of the half.
"I'm taking someone down with me…"
He charged. But Ashwin read him like a book, stepped in, and flung him out.
Another crushing blow.
The scoreboard glared across the arena: Red Team – 18 | Blue Team – 15
The halftime buzzer rang out.
"And that's the buzzer!" a commentator cried. "Halftime here at Arena Shivneri, and what a first half we've had!"
"Red Team leads by three," came the excited reply. "Eighteen to fifteen! And Arjun? Spent most of it on the bench."
"Yeah. Their best weapon sitting cold. Like buying a sword and bringing a spoon to battle."
The other chuckled. "Still—Red made the most of it. Ganesh's super raid, Mahendra's trap, and Mohit? Not his day."
"But Blue had sparks. Arjun's super raid lit up the court—but the moment he was out, they crumbled."
A final cut to Arjun on the bench. Focused. Burning with silent promise.
"That look says it all," said the commentator. "He's loading the next chapter—and I've got a feeling it's titled Payback."
"Second half promises fire, drama, and maybe redemption. Don't blink—this match is far from over."
Halftime – Locker Room, Arena Shivneri
The Blue Team sat slumped on the benches, their jerseys clinging with sweat, eyes heavy with frustration. The buzzer had marked more than halftime—it had drawn a line between doubt and decision.
Sidharth Sir stood silently for a moment, letting the weight of the silence settle before he spoke. His gaze scanned each of them—not as players, but as individuals bearing burdens.
Karan looked up first, his jaw clenched.
"Sir… I don't know what it is. Every time Vikrant glares from their side, I freeze. It's like I can't breathe right."
Beside him, Lalit nodded slowly.
"Same here… It's not just his presence—it's like we're playing against a machine that sees everything."
Mohit's voice cut in, frustration laced with guilt.
"I messed up, Sir. My mind wandered mid-raid. I—I knew what to do, but I just couldn't stay focused."
Arjun sat in the corner, silent. His hands rested on his knees, head low, eyes distant. A quiet storm.
Sidharth Sir stepped forward, kneeling beside them. His tone was calm, but firm—carrying the weight of years of battles, defeats, and revivals.
"Pressure is real. Fear is real. But so is trust."
He looked at Karan and Lalit.
"Don't give Vikrant that power. He's not your shadow—he's just a player. And you're more than defenders. You're the backbone."
Turning to Mohit, he smiled softly.
"You lose focus sometimes. That's human. But you've also charged in when no one else dared. That's courage. Own it."
Then, he walked to Arjun. For a moment, everyone held their breath.
He placed a hand on Arjun's shoulder, then delivered a loud, echoing clap on his back.
"And you…" he said, his voice thick with conviction, "You're not finished. Fight. Show them the warrior I know lives inside you. You lead not by orders—but by presence. But remember—this will only work if all of you stay focused. Together."
The room breathed again. Shoulders straightened. Eyes lit up. Something had shifted.
---
Red Team Corner
On the other side, Prashant Sir paced with folded arms, his voice sharp and confident.
"Great first half. Ganesh, that super raid—brilliant. Mahendra, your trap—textbook perfect. Vikrant—your strategy's keeping them confused. Keep it up."
Vikrant nodded, but inwardly, he frowned.
(Vikrant's Inner Thought): "I didn't expect it to be this close. Arjun... He's not just a player. He's a question we haven't answered yet."
Raghav rolled his neck, eyes gleaming.
(Raghav's Inner Thought): "Time to become fire. Let's burn their comeback before it even starts."
---
Commentator 1:
"Alright, second half kicks off with Red leading 18 to 15. But hold on—Arjun's just stepped in!"
Commentator 2 (excited):
"And WHAT A MOVE! Three defenders down! That's a Super Raid! The equalizer!"
Scoreboard flickers:
Red – 18 | Blue – 18
The crowd went wild, echoing like rolling thunder. For the first time, the match was level.
Mohit (Inner Thought):
"He just walked in and balanced the scoreboard… Arjun isn't just playing—he's changing the story."
Lalit watched silently, eyes tracking Arjun like he was seeing him for the first time.
(Inner Thought):
"He's not afraid. Maybe we've been too worried about pressure… Maybe we just need to trust."
From the stands, Yogita gripped Rachna's arm.
Yogita (breathless):
"We're not watching a game anymore. This… this is a turning point."
Commentator 1:
"It's all square now, folks! Red 18, Blue 18. And if Arjun's fire is anything to go by, we're in for a storm."
And just like that, the second half truly ignited—not with sound, but with silence, broken only by the rhythm of belief returning.
Blue Team was back. And they weren't playing catch-up anymore.
Commentator 1 (tense):
"Blue Team back in the game, but here comes the storm—Vikrant's stepping in!"
Four Blue defenders line up—Lalit, Karan, Pranav, Mohit. Eyes sharp. Muscles coiled.
Lalit (inner thought):
"This is it. We stop him now—we take control."
Karan (inner thought):
"Focus. Don't think of his name—just bring him down."
Pranav (inner thought):
"Together. Don't give him an inch."
Mohit (inner thought):
"No more slips. He's not leaving this time."
They pounce. Bodies crash. For a moment, it looks like they have him—
—but Vikrant spins, breaks free, and touches the mid-line with a roar.
Commentator 2 (exploding):
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! VIKRANT ESCAPES FOUR—FOUR!—AND GETS THE POINT! SUPER RAID? NO! ESCAPE ARTIST!"
Scoreboard flickers:
Red – 21 | Blue – 18
Only one figure remains on the mat for Blue.
Arjun.
Vikrant stands across the mat, breathing heavy, grinning. But his eyes? Studying. Calculating.
Vikrant (inner thought):
"He's good. Too calm. What's he hiding?"
Arjun steps in. Silent. Focused.
Arjun (inner thought):
"I don't need to win this raid. I just need to read them back. Find the heartbeat."
From the sidelines, Sidharth Sir clenches his fists.
Sidharth (inner thought):
"Come on, Arjun. You don't fight like others. You feel the rhythm. Trust it."
In the audience, Rachna leans forward.
Rachna (inner thought):
"He's alone—but somehow, I don't feel scared. He carries all of us."
Arjun dances on the mat—first to the right. A flick toward the touchline. Then cuts left. The defenders hesitate, shift.
But it's a trap.
They lunge.
Commentator 1:
"They're going for it! Full tackle—this could be it!"
A clash. Dust. Chaos.
Two players tumble out of bounds with Arjun.
Commentator 2:
"They took him down—but he dragged one with him! One point each! And—wait—Blue Team is ALL OUT!"
Scoreboard:
Red – 22 | Blue – 19
Arjun lies at the edge of the mat, chest heaving.
Sidharth sprints in, kneels beside him, gripping his shoulder.
Sidharth:
"This isn't over, Arjun. You're not losing—you're learning. The real battle starts now."
Arjun nods. Wipes the dust off. Stands.
Whistle blows.
Commentator 1:
"Both teams reset. Seven players apiece. The mat restarts, but this time—it feels different. It feels destined."
The battle isn't over.
It's only just begun.
Commentator 1:
"The second half boils on! Red starts again—guess who? It's Vikrant, back on the mat. The storm returns!"
But this time… Blue is ready.
Lalit and Pranav—eyes locked, minds sharp.
Karan (to Arjun quietly):
"I'll shield. You lead. Mohit, Hardik—we hold the line."
Arjun nods, focused. His eyes scan Vikrant like a map.
Lalit (inner thought):
"Come on, Vikrant. Come to my side. I want you to."
But Vikrant moves confidently, deep into left mid-left—avoiding Lalit.
He smiles slightly. Calculating.
Vikrant (inner thought):
"Same wall. Same numbers. Different outcome."
Arjun stands calm, at the far edge, flanked by the blue wall—Karan, Mohit, Hardik.
Commentator 2:
"Blue has stacked up the left like a fortress! Vikrant might have to rethink—WAIT!"
Suddenly, a shift.
Vikrant spins mid-move and dives toward Lalit's side—hoping to grab a point and escape.
But he didn't expect this.
Lalit kneels. Waiting. Silent.
Vikrant (inner thought):
"No—he's ready!"
Too late.
Lalit lunges like a striking anaconda—locks onto Vikrant's leg and pulls him back with raw power.
Commentator 1 (shouting):
"HE'S GOT HIM! LA-LIT HAS LOCKED HIM LIKE A BEAST DRAGGING PREY!"
Before Vikrant can wriggle free—
Karan jumps in, body crashing like a hammer.
The tackle is complete.
Whistle. Point. Blue Team erupts.
Commentator 2:
"YES! What a reversal! Vikrant's finally grounded—and he's heading to the pavilion for the first time this half!"
Vikrant (inner thought):
"They adapted… Heh. Now it's real."
No time wasted—Blue Team resets.
Mohit enters. Fire in his step.
But Ganesh is waiting.
He's not fooled.
Commentator 1:
"Mohit's looking sharp—wait! GANESH! SOLO TACKLE OUT OF NOWHERE!"
Ganesh lunges, catches Mohit in mid-move, and drags him out—
Mohit tumbles off the mat—but this time Ganesh stays in.
Arjun watches closely.
Arjun (inner thought):
"He learned from me. Smart. If we don't adjust, we'll lose more that way."
Lalit (noting silently):
"Diving rider out of bounds. They're countering our traps with our own game."
Karan (murmuring to Arjun):
"We need a new layer. He's matching your moves now."
Commentator 2 (dramatic):
"OH THIS IS A CHESSBOARD IN MOTION! ONE SLIP—ONE MOVE—AND THE WHOLE BALANCE SHIFTS!"
The arena thunders. Strategies evolve.
Vikrant's been grounded. Ganesh stands tall.
And Arjun watches it all—eyes burning.
The match isn't just physical anymore.
It's mental warfare.
Commentator 1: "And now Raghav steps in for Red Team! The score stands at 30–28, tension like a bowstring pulled tight!"
Commentator 2: "Last time Ganesh pulled off a miracle. Can Blue Team return the favor?"
Raghav entered—shoulders loose, eyes sharp. But Karan had been watching. He crouched low, mirrored Ganesh's last move.
Commentator 1 (excitedly): "Karan dives! It's a repeat of Ganesh's tactic!"
Raghav twisted—barely avoiding the full tackle—and just managed to touch the mid-line as Lalit lunged.
Whistle.
Commentator 2: "He's done it! Raghav survives! One point for Red, Lalit's out!"
Scoreboard Update:
Red – 31
Blue – 28
Lalit walked off the mat, breathing hard, disappointed—but with a wry smile. He knew they were getting better. Just not fast enough.
Up in the corner stands, Rudra—usually calm, almost statuesque—whispered under his breath:
Rudra (to himself): "They learn fast… faster than I thought…"
Then he paused.
His eyes narrowed. The shift in mood was subtle but unmistakable.
Without waiting for the match to end, Rudra and the two figures beside him turned and began to walk away, silent as shadows.
Commentator 1: "And here comes Mohit! Blue Team's pulse just found its rhythm again!"
Mohit surged forward, fast and nimble. Ganesh lunged—missed. Mahendra tried a block—but Mohit spun like a dancer, barely grazing Mahendra's fingers before retreating.
Commentator 2: "He evades two defenders and tags Mahendra! That's one point for Blue!"
Scoreboard Update:
Red – 31
Blue – 29
Match Time Remaining: 2:12 minutes. Two raids. That's all.
Commentator 1: "It's do or die. And look who's stepping in—Vikrant."
Vikrant, calm as stone, entered for Red Team. Eyes scanning. Steps calculating.
Blue's defense tensed. Arjun signaled. Karan moved to flank. Pranav and Lalit, shoulder to shoulder.
But Vikrant... smiled.
In a flash, he feinted left, then dove low, catching Pranav off guard. Lalit lunged to recover—but Vikrant twisted midair, tagged both, and sprinted back.
Whistle.
Commentator 2 (yelling): "TWO POINT RAID! VIKRANT IS UNREAL!"
Scoreboard Update:
Red – 33
Blue – 29
The crowd exploded. Drums. Flags. Shouts.
Rudra paused mid-step outside the gates. For just a second.
Commentator 1: "Time's bleeding out—less than a minute. Last raid. Blue Team must get four to tie… five to win."
Commentator 2: "It's Arjun. Of course it's Arjun."
The arena went silent.
Final Raid.
Arjun stood still at the edge of the mat. Eyes closed. Breathing steady.
Arjun (Inner Thought): "Not for glory. Not for scoreboard. This… is for us."
He stepped in.
Commentator 1: "And here it is—the final raid! Everything on the line for Blue Team."
Sidharth Sir stood by the sideline, arms crossed, but calm… confident.
Across the mat, Prashant's sharp eyes locked with Vikrant's. A thousand unspoken words passed between them in that single glance.
And then—
Arjun stepped in.
The crowd hushed. Time itself seemed to pause.
He moved to the right.
All Red Team defenders drifted to the left.
He sprinted left.
They rushed right.
Commentator 2 (chuckling): "They're playing keep-away! Giving him all the space, just burning down the clock!"
Arjun suddenly dashed across the middle.
A quick move—two defenders caught off guard—tagged cleanly.
But he didn't return.
He couldn't.
He knew… Two points weren't enough.
He hovered near the midline, pausing for just two seconds.
Then—the trap snapped.
Those two defenders he touched? They came back for him. Another one joined. Hands locked on his arms, waist, dragging him.
Raghav sprinted in from the side—grabbing Arjun's shoulder.
Three now pulling him back like anchors.
Commentator 1: "They're trying to drag him in… wait—wait! They're not pushing him out—they're pulling him back in?! What is this?!"
But Arjun read the chaos.
As they pulled, he planted his right foot, dropped his body—and dived across the midline.
One defender—already losing grip—flew out of the mat with Arjun's push.
Whistle.
Commentator 2 (screaming): "HE TOUCHED THE LINE! ARJUN GOT THREE!"
The crowd erupted.
Scoreboard Final:
Red – 33
Blue – 32
Arjun won the raid. But Blue lost the match.
The crowd's cheers blurred with stunned silence.
Vikrant still stood at the far corner. Unmoved. Watching.
The only two who didn't engage? Vikrant and another corner defender—perfectly aware of the trap, of the risk. They let it unfold.
Arjun (inner thought): "He knew. All along. They weren't defending me… they were defending the scoreboard."
Across the mat, Prashant exploded, yelling furiously at Vikrant.
Vikrant didn't respond. Just stared at Arjun. Respectful. Quiet.
Sidharth Sir walked calmly toward Arjun.
Arjun was sitting on the mat, mud-soaked, eyes fixed on the glowing red Scoreboard: 33 – 32.
Lalit and Karan stood at the sideline, tears swelling.
Mohit sat on the bench—smiling, even in loss. Proud to have played beside Arjun.
Sidharth Sir knelt beside him.
Sidharth (softly): "You didn't lose. You taught them how to play."
Arjun looked up—mud streaked on his face, but a smile breaking through.
"Next time," he whispered.
And somewhere in the audience, Yogita whispered to Rachna:
"He didn't lose the match… he won every heart."