Alan smirked, as though he'd been expecting this all along. He turned back toward Seraph, his thoughts flickering with satisfaction, "All that provocation worked perfectly, huh..."
Seraph's posture stiffened, the grin curling into something far sharper now. His golden eyes glinted under the floodlights, his gaze piercing as if to challenge Alan.
"Heh," Alan said smugly, folding his arms, "Didn't take you long to show yourself, huh? Welcome, Cleve Persona."
Seraph's amused smirk twisted into something more dangerous as he crossed his arms. "Well, Alan," he drawled, "I'd congratulate you on your little speech. But, It's not him you're dealing with anymore." he pointed to himself, "It's me. So, tell me, do you think you've got the guts to handle me?"
Alan didn't flinch. He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his gaze as he sized Seraph up, "You don't make things easy, do you?"
Seraph laughed, unrestrained, the sound sharp and cutting through the quiet air. "And, why should I? He's soft. Always has been. You think a couple of inspirational lines will fix that? You have no idea what you're dealing with." he stepped forward, the tension thickening like a storm about to break. "I've seen him crumble under pressure. Let others trample all over him. Just because he smiles doesn't mean he's ever been fine. When there was no one to protect him, I stepped in. I had to take control. He couldn't."
Alan held his ground, his hands still tucked in his pockets. "You talk like you're someone else," he said calmly, "But you're not, are you? You're a part of him. You are him."
Seraph's smirk faltered for a moment, his golden eyes narrowing. A bitter, distant smile played at the edges of his lips as he whispered, "You're wrong, genius… You and only I think that."
The wind picked up again, rustling the grass around them, as Seraph straightened up. "You wanted to face an over, right? Let's go. You've seen his bowling; now witness mine, and the difference between us."
"Bring it on, Cleve Persona," Alan responded, his voice full of challenge and an unmistakable grin.
Seraph stopped mid-step, turning his head back to glance at Alan. "Awan," he said, his voice edged with annoyance, "Call me Awan from now on, not that stupid 'Cleve Persona.' again and again."
Alan raised an eyebrow, surprised, "Why?"
Awan's lips twitched with a faint, mocking grin. "It's a worthless family name. Nobody in my house was ever called 'Awan.' It's just a surname." He turned back to head for his mark.
Alan stayed behind, watching with an oddly mixed expression of concern and surprise. A knowing smile crept up his face as he called out, "Hurry up, Seraph. We don't have all night."
Awan whipped around, his expression darkening with disbelief. "Seriously, are you deaf? Didn't you hear a word I just said?"
Alan grinned confidently, raising his bat. "It's my choice whatever I call you. Why does it matter to you?" He tapped the ground lightly with his bat. "Say it if you're buying time now since you're scared to face me maybe I'll go easy on you." Alan teased.
Awan's eyes glinted, hidden under his blonde hair, as a sly grin spread across his face, "You little…"
Alan's grin softened as he thought, "Maybe I know this feeling well... because everything begins with acceptance itself." He then tapped his bat on the crease, looking ahead.
As Awan completed his run-up and stepped onto the popping crease, he bowled, "Infrasonic Glint: Wave 2!" The moment the ball left his hand, the stark difference was clear.
A blazing, invisible delivery streaked through the pitch like a bullet, leaving no time for instinct to respond. Alan barely managed to pull his bat up in defense. "Strong!" he thought as the ball struck the bat with a force that sent smoke curling into the air as it landed before him.
Alan swallowed, his brows furrowed. The over before had been nothing like this. This single delivery had proven it.
Narrowing his gaze, Alan straightened, "Not bad."
"Not bad?" Awan smirked, picking up the ball, "Oh, just you wait."
The second delivery of the over, came even faster, blurring past Alan's bat and disappearing into the darkness beyond the boundary. Turning around, Alan narrowed his eyes, "It must've hit the boundary line... Am I tired? Responding to these deliveries feels impossible. Not to mention this... pressure. Seraph was right. He's stronger than before."
"What's up? Scared already?" Awan taunted, his voice laced with mockery, "Or did you forget you're supposed to play the balls back, Pakistan's Galaxy?"
Alan rolled his eyes, "Don't you think it's too early to decide that?"
"I hope so," Awan replied, already preparing for his run-up.
The third delivery slowed drastically, as though time itself had decelerated to half-speed. Alan blinked in surprise, "This slow?"
Watching Awan grin, Alan took a few steps forward and swung his bat. "Have you played around enough?" he asked annoyed.
But as soon as his bat struck the ball, it rolled off his bat's surface, suddenly accelerating and dashing toward the wicket. Alan reacted instinctively, calling out, "Clad Shield Defense!"
The ball, mere inches from impact against the wicket, ricocheted backward, bouncing past him toward Seraph.
Alan's heart pounded, his breath catching in his throat. He turned to see Seraph chuckling, fingers resting against his lips, his gaze sharp and calculating, "Had fun?" he asked coolly, "I call it 'Revelation'. Even the great Alan Rex Lorenzo didn't see that coming, right?"
Alan frowned, turning back to Awan, who was retrieving the ball. "If this were a match, any fielder would've stumped me. He's luring me out of the crease. Clever. Not bad at all." He wondered, his eyes narrowed, "But what about his gauntlet? If his speed is this alarming with it on, what will happen if he removes it?"
As Alan stood on the crease, he took a deep breath, and steadied himself. Opening them, he started at Awan as he completed his run-up.
Watching him closely, Alan analyzed his grip, his speed, and the subtle shifts in his stance.
The fourth delivery came as a sharp inswinger.
Alan seized the moment, meeting it with a perfectly timed straight drive. Awan lunged with his foot but failed to stop the ball as it sped into the darkness.
"That was my last ball," Awan said, turning to Alan.
Alan exhaled, walking to his gear bag. He pulled out two balls and tossed them to Awan. " Enough to finish the over," he said simply, returning to the crease.
Awan grinned, thinking, "As expected, not the type to run away."
The penultimate delivery of the over an off-cutter, Alan deflected it with a leg glance. "Last ball already. Got anything new to show? Or are you giving up on taking my wicket?" he asked, looking at his bat.
Awan grinned, rolling up his left sleeve. With a snap of his fingers, the golden gauntlet fell apart into two pieces.
Alan's gaze sharpened. "He was wearing it..."
"Watch closely, Pakistan's Galaxy. This is what my 'Legendary senior'taught me," Awan said, an unusual candour in his smile as he turned back.
"Legendary senior…?" Alan wondered.
The final ball of the over began with Awan charging through the 30-yard circle, his fiery hair crackling with energy. Alan steadied himself, eyes narrowing as he braced for impact. "Ultrasonic Glint (Wave 1): Thunder Strike!" Awan whispered.
The ball screamed through the air with a faint, high-pitched whistle, its speed so extreme it vanished momentarily from sight. Alan glared, his urgency struck. "Pinnacle of Transcendence..." he murmured.
Awan faltered briefly, his lightning golden gaze locking with Alan's blazing red ones.
"Phase 1: Killing Credence... Time Eternity Halt!" Alan whispered, his hair glowing with a fiery brilliance of blue essence, the constellations surrounding the two, as time froze.
Seraph blinked, watching as Alan's bat met the once lightning-fast ball, now halted dead in between time and space. "Aiming for my wicket? Not a chance!" he swung it hard, sending the ball soaring straight over long-off for six.
But little did Alan realize, as he swung his bat, an electrical static coursed through him, leaving his hands trembling. The two forces, thunder clashed with starlight as the entire pitch lit up with blinding energy.
Awan stared at Alan. Alan stared back, unyielding.
The over was done.
As Alan's pinnacle faded, he exhaled, almost finding the sensation of the electrical shock all lost. He grabbed his bat, his sense of feeling growing slightly numb. He frowned, thinking, "Sense of feeling… is it this time."
Soon glancing at his wicket that remained standing. "Seraph… Awan," Alan then called softly.
Awan narrowed his gaze. "You are one and the same. Don't forget that. 'Awan' isn't a worthless name. It means 'supporter.' You're his Seraph's supporter, no matter how long you're out in the open or buried deep within," Alan said.