KINGS OF CRICKET: The Golden Era

The over unfolded like a battle from a medieval era. With the fifth ball in play, Heber stood firm at the crease, having already accumulated 14 runs. Faris, despite his best efforts, had yet to claim Heber's wicket as he prepared for another delivery.

"Heber's really improved," Damian observed.

"When he first came here last year, Faris used to decimate 1him. Now, he's holding his own. I'm impressed."

Kenzo smiled slightly.

"Though it seems your attention is elsewhere," Vincent remarked, noticing that Kenzo's gaze was fixed on Azazel, who was watching Heber and Faris with a captivated expression.

"He's quite the intriguing one, don't you think?" Kenzo mused.

Izaak, squinting at Azazel, commented, "All I see are curls, Your Highness."

Offended by the remark, Silas discreetly stepped on Izaak's foot.

"Ouch! What the—?" Izaak turned to him, annoyed.

The over finally ending, Heber had managed to score 18 runs as per coaches' estimation and without losing his wicket, both players ended it in a tie. The crowd cheered and applauded enthusiastically.

Faris smirked shaking Heber's hand who had gone through a roller-coaster ride with his swing deliveries. "That was insane," Heber remarked, still catching his breath, "You never go easy, do you?"

Faris patted his back, going to Kenzo, "Don't you think you did the same as well today, Heber Bin Saad?"

Heber blinked, immediately encouraged, "Thanks Senior."

"Now it's my turn…" Vincent stood up however, a loud voice interrupted.

"I'll take his wicket!" Azazel suddenly jumped down from the audience stand and confidently approached Heber. "Senior Heber, right? I'll take your wicket. How about it?" he challenged, his hands casually in his pockets.

Vincent glanced at Kenzo, whose expression remained unreadable, though a grin played on his lips.

"That little monkey again?!" The students in the stands were in disbelief.

"And now he's stepped onto the field… he's really lost it," some whispered nervously.

"Oh~?" Heber raised an eyebrow, amused, "It's your challenger, Your Highness," he said, turning to Kenzo. "But it seems like his target just shifted. What do you think?"

Before Kenzo could respond, Azazel spoke up. "It didn't shift. Nor will it change. First, I'll beat you, and then he's next."

The entire ground fell silent at his bold declaration.

"But, he isn't part of the society, will Kenzo accept it?" the students whispered.

Kenzo raised his hand, placing his index finger on the bridge of his nose, grinning, "Say, Heber, an over from a first-year won't hurt you, right?"

"Not at all," Heber replied, his eyes gleaming with interest.

"Then show him what it means to challenge the monsters trained here," Kenzo commanded, his gaze sharp.

Azazel, feeling the weight of the challenge, grabbed the ball and prepared himself.

A while later, what had initially seemed like a bold declaration turned out to be just empty words.

"That's it?" Heber asked, his disappointment clear.

Azazel knelt on the ground, panting heavily, staring at the ball in disbelief as sweat dripped from his forehead like rain. "What's happening? Nothing… nothing is going right," he thought, frustrated.

It was the fourth ball of the over, and Heber had already hit four consecutive sixes, securing the over with ease. The entire ground fell silent, enveloped in an eerie stillness. The members of the Cricket Society looked at Azazel with unimpressed expressions.

"That was it?" Damian remarked, unphased.

"All that big talk, and this is what we get? He even had the nerve to challenge Kenzo. What a letdown," Izaak scoffed.

"He couldn't break through Heber's Joker Cage. He barely even countered it. How could he possibly win when he was completely overwhelmed by it?" Silas added.

Kenzo, tilting his head slightly, rested his fingers on his temple, watching sternly.

The boys who had brought Azazel to the Cricket Society exchanged concerned glances.

Despite his exhaustion and crushing defeat, Azazel stood up, picked up the ball, and prepared to bowl the penultimate delivery of the over.

"You still have the will to continue after all that?" Heber asked, surprised. But

Azazel, now exuding a different aura, shot a dark, intense glare at Heber, his irises glowing a devilish red.

Heber instinctively stepped back, alarmed. "What is that…?" he thought, suddenly on high alert.

As Azazel delivered the fifth ball, he unleashed a vicious bouncer, exceeding shoulder height and packed with aggressive power. Heber immediately ducked, protecting himself as the ball was signaled wide and smashed into the nets behind him with such force that smoke sizzled from the impact. Heber gulped as Azazel casually walked past him, picking up the ball again.

"Let's see how I don't get your wicket now, Heber," Azazel whispered menacingly.

Kenzo frowned, noticing the sudden change in Azazel's behavior.

"Wow… Azazel's really mad, isn't he?" one of the boys remarked nervously. "Something doesn't feel right, though…" another whispered, concerned.

Preparing to bowl the fifth ball again, Azazel grinned as he charged towards the pitch, his speed noticeably increased.

"Fast!" Vincent, Damian, and Izaak observed.

After letting go of the ball, Azazel stood still, staring at Heber with an unkind, apathetic gaze. "I said Kenzo's next. That means you have to go," he sneered.

Heber eyed the ball cautiously, recognizing the knuckle delivery and the unpredictable speed alteration. "I'd better hit it before it changes speed," he thought, moving forward to strike the ball. However, instead of returning the ball, it spun back toward Heber's face with twice the power.

Heber, relying on his quick reflexes, shielded his face with his arm, taking a harsh blow that left his wrist red and swelling. "Argh!" Heber hissed in pain as Silas, Izaak, and Vincent rose from their seats, their expressions grave.

Azazel smirked, "Oops, did I go too hard? Sorry, I didn't mean to."

Heber, removing his glove to inspect his swollen wrist, whispered angrily, "You little brat…" Despite the pain, he turned back to Azazel with a determined smile. "Let's go again, shall we, little devil? Let's see if I don't send the ball flying this time," Heber challenged, his voice steely.

Azazel grinned, readying himself for the final ball of the over.

Kenzo observed Azazel's shift in demeanor with keen attention. Sensing something amiss, he discreetly positioned his right foot slightly forward.

As Azazel rushed towards the bowling crease, his speed increasing, Kenzo's instincts kicked in. He suddenly stood up, grabbed his queen, and sprinted towards the pitch with lightning speed, the jacket on his shoulders falling to the ground.

"Kenzo?!" Faris and Vincent called out, confused, but Kenzo didn't stop. Just as Azazel unleashed another deadly delivery, Kenzo reached Heber in the nick of time, pushing him aside and raising his bat to block the ball from striking his face and neck. The ball hit Kenzo's bat with a loud crack, surprising everyone, including Azazel, who looked up startled.

As the ball fell to the ground, Kenzo lowered his bat, revealing his cold, intense azure gaze that sent chills down Azazel's spine.

"Captain…?" Heber, who had fallen to the ground, looked up at Kenzo in astonishment.

With his expression hidden by his hair, Kenzo extended a hand to Heber, masking a smile. "Get up and take my place, Heber," he said calmly.

Heber, wordlessly, took Kenzo's hand and left the pitch.

Kenzo, without any protective gear, stepped up to the batting crease. Tapping his bat, he shot a glare at Azazel and commanded, "Bowl now."

Azazel's red pupils momentarily quivered before he clicked his tongue and headed back to bowl.

And within, the span of next five minutes, like the final judgment, Kenzo struck six consecutive sixes on every vicious delivery Azazel threw, both on the leg side and off side. As Azazel's irises returned to their normal shade of red, he found himself thoroughly defeated not once, but twice, in front of the entire academy.

Falling to his knees, Azazel stared in disbelief and silence. The past two years of relentless effort, all aimed at this moment, had been utterly crushed by the man standing before him.

Pointing his bat at Azazel, Kenzo spoke with disappointment, "Is this how you play cricket, Azazel Minhas? What a letdown." He continued, "You can break someone's will, exhaust their stamina, overpower their strength, and outmatch their skill and experience—but what gives you the right to crush their spirit? Who do you think you are to destroy their passion for cricket?" His voice was sharp with reprimand.

Azazel, humiliated and speechless, stared at the ground.

"This is no place for you or your hostile style of cricket. Leave, immediately!" Kenzo commanded, turning away without a second glance.

As he walked off, Azazel, defeated yet defiant, asked one last question, "You… raise monsters here. So how am I any different?"

Kenzo halted and turned back to face him. "Yes, we raise monsters here," he said, his tone unwavering. "But not monsters that crush their opponents. The ones we raise grow by pushing their limits, respecting their opponents, and mastering the game, not by tearing others down." He stepped closer, his gaze piercing.

"If you think being a monster is about crushing others, then you've got it all wrong. True monsters uplift the sport, play with honor and pride on the line, and grow stronger with every challenge while keeping their integrity intact." Kenzo's eyes locked onto Azazel's. "That's the kind of monster we raise here. But you, Azazel, are still trying to bulldoze your way through. That's not strength—it's desperation." He turned and walked away.

As Kenzo's figure receded, Azazel's realized, "Ah… I see it now. His expression, his words... they're just like gramps... harsh, not understanding me at all, but right. I don't get it… I am just like that."