The Round of 16 didn't feel like an extension of the tournament.
It felt like a reset.
The organizers changed the format without warning—Rapid Round. Shorter matches. Faster over rates. Less room for recovery.
Eight teams per group.
One mistake could erase weeks of effort.
Group A — Under-16
NITK English Medium School
NAA Academy School
SAM Public School
PIS International
NNS High School
RPS Model School
FTS Sports School
St. Merry's High School
The list alone drew reactions.
Whispers moved faster than announcements.
"FTS is here."
"Full academy team."
"They train twice a day."
FTS Sports School didn't need introductions. Everyone knew their reputation—strong builds, clean power hitters, bowlers who hit hard lengths without fear.
They were called the most powerful team in the tournament.
And wherever FTS went, one name followed closely behind.
St. Merry's High School.
Different style.
Sharper discipline.
Tighter fielding.
If FTS was raw force, St. Merry's was control.
Rivals.
Not loud ones—but inevitable.
Their matches were already circled on everyone's mental calendar.
NITK's bus arrived quietly.
No one pointed at them.
No one hyped them.
Which suited Rudra just fine.
He stood near the back, kit slung over one shoulder, eyes moving across the other teams warming up.
FTS players hit the ball hard even in practice. The sound was unmistakable—thick, confident.
St. Merry's ran drills with precision, every throw sharp, every movement economical.
Rudra didn't stare long.
He looked inward instead.
Focus
Lv 06 (49 / 100 EXP) → (51 / 100 EXP)
Rapid matches meant fewer balls.
Fewer balls meant less room to wait.
Batting position mattered now more than ever.
And for the first time, Rudra's name sat inside the top order list.
Not announced.
Just written.
Arjun noticed and nudged him. "Looks like you're going in early."
Rudra nodded once. "Good."
No excitement.
No nerves.
Only adjustment.
Emotional Control
Lv 05 (93 / 100 EXP) → (95 / 100 EXP)
Group A wasn't forgiving.
Every team had something sharp.
But two shadows loomed larger than the rest—FTS and St. Merry's—already spoken of as if the rest were obstacles, not opponents.
Rudra tightened his grip around the bat handle, feeling the familiar texture settle into his palm.
Power could dominate.
Discipline could suffocate.
But Rapid rounds rewarded something else too—
Clarity.
And as the fixtures were announced and the first whistles blew, Rudra knew one thing with certainty:
NITK wasn't here to be discussed.
They were here to be measured.
And the numbers, as always, would decide who truly belonged.