Ezekiel fixed his gaze on Poseidon as he stepped onto the popping crease, poised for the fourth delivery.
Raihan's eyes locked onto the ball, his concentration unwavering.
The moment it left Poseidon's fingers, it appeared to be a standard turning delivery, but instead of spinning, it skidded forward with minimal bounce. Raihan's focus sharpened as he instinctively responded with a backfoot punch, countering the deceptive ball.
Poseidon swiftly retrieved the ball and made his way back, wasting no time before setting up for the fifth delivery.
"A low-speed undercutter, packed with backspin," Ebraham analyzed, his eyes flickering with interest.
"Not just that," Lucifer chimed in, "Have you noticed how Poseidon's speed control has evolved? He started at nearly 90 km/h for his first trial wicket, dropped to 65 km/h, and then ramped it back up past 90 in an instant."
Helios nodded, his expression unreadable, "You're right. Unlike me, Poseidon has learned a great deal from Sehan. During his hospital stays, when Sehan would keep him company, Poseidon absorbed everything he taught him. Ball variations, speed control, even minute details like skidding, drifting, and dipping the ball with the flick of his wrist. All to deceive the batsman in a split second."
Helios's voice was steady but carried an undeniable sharpness, "But what makes him truly formidable is that he alongside mastering wrist spin, has learned a few finger spin variations as well. He is a mystery spinner, and those who underestimated him are likely regretting it now." His gaze turned piercing.
Claude shivered at Helios's biting words.
"Still bitter, huh?" Haadi murmured.
Claude clicked his tongue, "Who wouldn't be?"
Back on the pitch, Poseidon exhaled, rolling his shoulders. His fingers traced the seam as he angled the ball for a classic left-arm off-spin drift. Yet, there was something ominous about this delivery. His run-up was slow, measured, deliberate. Then, a seamless leap, a flick of his fingers, and the ball was airborne. It dipped sharply mid-flight.
Raihan's eyes widened. He had expected turn, but what caught him off guard was the drift. Instead of heading straight, the ball veered towards leg stump, drawing him into a defensive push.
Helios sharpened his gaze. "There it is, boys." He drew everyone's focus, "One of the three finger-spin variations Poseidon has worked tirelessly to master. Watch closely and memorize every single movement of his."
At his words, Claude, Azazel, and the others fixed their eyes on the pitch with unwavering attention.
Poseidon's grin widened whispering under his breath, "I don't let people off the hook so easily. Gravity Suppress: Form 2."
The moment Raihan committed to his stroke, the ball dropped suddenly, gripping the surface before snapping away past the outside edge. A perfect illusion of control—shattered in an instant. A faint nick. The umpire's finger shot up. The stadium roared.
But for Raihan, the nightmare was only beginning.
Frozen, his bat hung in midair, his eyes searching for the ball that had already nestled into the keeper's gloves. Panic set in, but it was nothing compared to the terror that followed. A suffocating force wrapped around him, an illusion of the sea swallowing him whole. His breath hitched. His vision blurred. He struggled to comprehend.
"W-where is this?!" Raihan's voice wavered.
Poseidon's expression darkened as he tilted his head. "Somewhere you should have been long ago, before you started tarnishing our society's name." His voice was cold, unyielding.
Raihan barely managed to choke out, "What...?" His frantic eyes darted around at the endless expanse of water engulfing him.
Then, with a simple click of Poseidon's fingers, the illusion expanded. Pulling in not just Raihan, but the entire stadium. Gasps filled the air.
"W-what is this?!" The audience stuttered in terror.
"Are we… under the sea?!"
"Look at them. Poseidon and Raihan!"
"Sea King…?" The hushed whispers carried a chilling reverence.
Ezekiel, staring at the scene before him, swallowed hard. He had always known Poseidon was strong. But because of his illness, he had never truly revealed his potential. Had he been at his best… just what kind of monster would he have become? He simply thought.
Poseidon's voice sliced through the silence, "Ezekiel Vincente."
Raihan flinched but said nothing. Poseidon continued, his tone unwavering, "You've been hounding him for a long time, haven't you? And because of you, he started tormenting others in the society. I suspected something was wrong, so I looked into it. I didn't want to be right. But here we are."
"Tch, what do you even know about him—!" Raihan shot back, but the illusion intensified. He stumbled, his audacity crumbling.
Poseidon's eyes gleamed with an eerie glow, "What I know or don't know is irrelevant. What matters is that you owe that boy a huge apology. Have I made myself clear?" The trident on his forehead burned with a fierce light.
Raihan, now trembling, crouched low, clutching his head. He couldn't even muster a response.
Poseidon exhaled sharply, his breathing labored. The illusion still loomed, heavy and unshakable. Just then, a voice cut through the air.
"That's enough, Poseidon." Helios' tone was firm, though laced with both unease and masked wonder.
Poseidon held his gaze for a moment before nodding, and with a blink, the illusion shattered. The spectators, still lost in its lingering effects, found themselves staring blankly at the pitch, struggling to grasp reality.
Three challenges—won in a row. There was no more room for arguments.
Poseidon turned away, his eyes trailing upward to Ezekiel, who stood frozen in the stands, wide-eyed. As their gazes met, and Poseidon offered a soft smile, calm, warm, unmistakably his.
Then, without another word, he left.