House matches were never quiet.
The school ground buzzed with color and noise—Blue House on one side, Red House on the other. Ribbons tied around arms, painted badges on cheeks, chants rising and falling without rhythm.
Rudra stood among the Blues.
The band of cloth on his arm felt heavier than it should have. Not because of pressure—but expectation. Friendly match or not, pride mattered at this age.
"Blue will win!" someone shouted.
"Red all out today!" another answered.
Rudra said nothing.
Friendly games didn't fool him. They revealed more than tournaments ever did.
Blue House batted first.
Rudra went in at number five.
The field was crowded, voices overlapping, advice shouted from every direction. He took guard, tapped the crease once.
The ball came faster than practice.
He swung.
Too early.
The ball flew off the top edge, looping toward mid-wicket.
A catch.
Out.
Silence, then laughter—not cruel, but careless.
Rudra walked back without looking up.
He checked instinctively.
Nothing changed.
Batting Timing
Lv 01 (16 / 100 EXP) → (16 / 100 EXP)
No reward.
No consolation.
Only truth.
Fielding came next.
He chased. He stopped a boundary. He threw accurately.
But the team faltered. Missed catches. Overthrows. Confusion.
Red House ran freely.
When Blue's turn came again, the target was modest—but pressure twisted young shoulders into knots.
They fell short.
Red House won.
Cheers erupted. Blues groaned. Some blamed. Some sulked.
Rudra stood still.
Loss.
And still—
No numbers moved.
Overall EXP
Unchanged
He sat on the edge of the ground after the match, elbows resting on knees, watching dust settle where excitement had been.
This was new.
Effort had been made. Sweat spent. Heart involved.
And yet—
Nothing.
No EXP.
No progress.
For a moment, doubt crept in.
Is this system unfair?
Does it only reward success?
He closed his eyes and replayed the moment of his dismissal.
The timing error. The rushed swing. The failure to read length.
The answer came without words.
The system did not reward participation.
It rewarded correct effort.
Wrong actions—even if honest—left no imprint.
He exhaled slowly.
Losses that taught nothing gave nothing.
But losses that clarified mistakes…
He stood.
Tomorrow, the bat would feel different.
Not because of motivation.
But because failure had drawn a clear line between effort and improvement.
And this time,
he knew exactly where he had gone wrong.