Chapter 60: Chapter 60
Chapter 60: The Price of a Wonderkid
The Wankhede Stadium was vibrating. It wasn’t the rhythmic stomping of a structured chant, but the chaotic, euphoric rumble of thousands of Mumbai fans realizing they had just witnessed history.
Aryan Sharma stood on the podium, the glare of the floodlights reflecting off the silver trophy in his hands. The confetti cannons blasted, raining gold and blue streamers over the team, but Aryan felt a strange sense of detachment, a hyper-awareness of the moment.
"Aryan," Harsha Bhogle’s voice cut through the noise, amplified by the stadium speakers. The presenter held the microphone out, a sparkle in his eyes. "A century in the first innings to save the team, and the wicket of MS Dhoni to win the match in the second. You are fifteen years old. Do you even realize what you’ve just done?"
Aryan leaned into the mic, wiping a smudge of dirt from his cheek. "It was a team effort, Harsha sir. When Jaffer bhai gave me the ball, I just knew I had to hit the deck hard. Getting Mahi bhai out... well, that’s just a dream."
He stuck to the media training Meera had drilled into him, but inside, his mind was screaming. I just bounced out MS Dhoni. I just won the Irani Cup against the Rest of India.
As the cameras flashed, capturing the image that would plaster every sports page the next morning, Aryan retreated to the back of the celebration. He found a quiet corner in the dressing room as his teammates sprayed champagne—he grabbed a water bottle instead—and pulled a towel over his head.
"System," he whispered.
The familiar hum resonated in his skull, and the translucent blue interface flickered to life, cutting through the steam and noise of the locker room.
[QUEST COMPLETED: THE IRANI CUP CHALLENGE]
Objective: Score a 50+ or take 3 wickets against the Rest of India.
Performance: 105 runs (1st Innings), 2 wickets (Including the wicket of the Indian Captain).
Rating: S+ (Exceptional)
Legend Points (LP): +15,000
New Title Unlocked:[Giant Slayer]
Effect: Increases XP gain and Stat growth probability by 20% when playing against International-level opponents or teams ranked higher than yours.
Bonus Reward: [A-Grade Recovery Elixir x2]
Aryan grinned beneath the towel. The Giant Slayer title was a game-changer. With the IPL coming up, every single match would be against international titans. He was about to level up faster than ever before.
[SYSTEM STATUS UPDATE]
Age: 15 (Approaching 16)
Role: Fast-Bowling All-Rounder
Overall Rating (OVR):
[ATTRIBUTES SNAPSHOT]
Batting Technique: 82
Bowling Accuracy: 86
Mental Strength: 75 (+5 from beating Dhoni)
"Aryan! Stop hiding!" Rohit Sharma yanked the towel off Aryan’s head, dumping a bottle of cold water over him. "We’re going to dinner! Owner’s treat!"
Aryan shook his wet hair, laughing. He dismissed the screen. The grind was over for today. But the real madness was just beginning.
The weeks following the Irani Cup victory were a blur of flashbulbs and ink. The Indian media machine, hungry for a new hero, had found their chosen one.
The Times of India:"MUMBAI’S NEW MASTER BLASTER?"
Hindustan Times:"The 15-Year-Old Who Outfoxed Dhoni"
Cricinfo:"IPL Auction Preview: The Million Dollar Baby?"
It wasn’t just cricket anymore. It was business.
Aryan sat in Meera’s plush office in Bandra, looking out at the Arabian Sea. Meera, looking sharp in a charcoal power suit, dropped a thick file onto the mahogany desk with a heavy thud.
"Okay, listen closely because your life is about to change," Meera said, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of the deal. "The IPL Governing Council has been in a frenzy for the last forty-eight hours. Primarily because of you."
"Because of me?" Aryan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Usually, Under-19 players are drafted into a separate pool with a fixed salary cap. It’s peanuts compared to the main auction," Meera explained, pacing the room. "But you’ve played First-Class cricket. You’ve played List A. And quite frankly, you are the most hyped teenager in the cricketing world right now. The broadcasters want you on the screen."
She leaned in. "They’ve made an exception. You are being placed in the ’Emerging Player’ pot, but you are open to the general auction. Your base price has been set at $50,000."
"$50,000?" Aryan did the mental math. "That’s... 20 Lakhs."
In his previous life as Raghav, 20 Lakhs was a dream salary. Here, it was the starting bid.
"Don’t look at the base price, Aryan," Meera smirked, tapping the file. "Look at the sharks circling the water. Mumbai Indians want you as a catchment player to partner with Sachin. It’s a fairy tale story. Local boy, future legend."
"But?" Aryan sensed the hesitation.
"But Royal Challengers Bangalore is obsessed. Vijay Mallya was at the stadium when you hit that switch-hit six. He wants the ’Youth Icon’ brand. Delhi Daredevils are interested because their analytics team loves your strike rate. And then there’s Rajasthan."
"Rajasthan Royals?" Aryan asked. "The cheapest franchise?"
"Exactly," Meera said. "They don’t have the budget of Ambani or Mallya. They have Shane Warne. They are building a ’Moneyball’ squad—undervalued assets, high potential. They might be the only ones willing to guarantee you a spot in the Playing XI. Mumbai has Jayasuriya and Sachin opening. Where do you fit?"
Aryan nodded slowly. "I just want to play, Meera. I don’t want to carry drinks for legends. I need to be on the pitch."
"Then let’s hope the gavel falls in the right place," Meera said. "Suit up, kid. February 20th is going to be a long day."
February 20, 2008 – The Auction Room
The Sharma household was plunged into darkness, save for the glow of the television screen. The curtains were drawn tight against the Mumbai sun.
Priya sat on the sofa, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were white. She was muttering prayers under her breath. Riya was sitting cross-legged on the floor, clutching her phone, texting updates to her college group chat.
Aryan sat in the armchair, trying to look composed, but his leg was bouncing uncontrollably.
On the screen, the Hilton Hotel in Mumbai was buzzing. Richard Madley, the auctioneer with the golden gavel, was conducting the symphony of capitalism.
The marquee players went first.
Mahendra Singh Dhoni sold to Chennai Super Kings for a record $1.5 Million.
Andrew Symonds to Deccan Chargers for $1.35 Million.
Sanath Jayasuriya to Mumbai Indians for nearly a million.
The numbers were staggering. Lives were changing every time the hammer fell.
"And now," Madley’s voice boomed through the TV speakers, "we move to the Uncapped and Emerging Players category. Lot Number 145."
A picture of Aryan appeared on the screen. He looked young, determined, wearing the Mumbai Ranji colors.
"Aryan Sharma. All-rounder from Mumbai. 15 years old. A sensation in the domestic circuit. Base Price: $50,000."
The room went silent.
"Do I hear $50,000?"
The paddle went up instantly.
Mumbai Indians: $50,000.
"I have fifty thousand from Mumbai."
Royal Challengers Bangalore: $60,000.
"Sixty thousand from Bangalore."
Delhi Daredevils: $70,000.
The paddles were moving fast. It wasn’t a hesitant auction; it was a war.
"$100,000," Mumbai Indians signaled.
"One hundred thousand dollars," Madley announced. "He is expensive for a schoolboy, but what a talent."
The price kept ticking up. $125,000. $150,000.
Riya gasped. "Bhai, that’s... that’s 60 Lakhs!"
Aryan stared at the screen. The Mumbai Indians table looked confident. Nita Ambani was whispering to her team. They wanted the local boy.
Then, a new paddle rose. From the back of the room. A table that had been relatively quiet.
Rajasthan Royals: $175,000.
The camera zoomed in. A blonde man wearing sunglasses indoors was on the phone. Shane Warne. The King of Spin. He looked relaxed, almost bored, chewing gum. He nodded to the team owner, Manoj Badale.
Mumbai Indians: $200,000.
Rajasthan Royals: $225,000.
Warne didn’t hesitate. He wanted his man.
Royal Challengers Bangalore: $250,000.
Mallya jumped back in.
Rajasthan Royals: $300,000.
A collective gasp went through the auction hall. $300,000 for an uncapped player. That was approx 1.2 Crores.
The Mumbai Indians table hesitated. They had spent heavily on the marquee stars. Their purse was shrinking. The analysts were shaking their heads. They couldn’t justify that much budget on a 15-year-old, no matter how talented.
Bangalore folded. Delhi folded.
"I have $300,000 with the Rajasthan Royals," Madley said, scanning the room. "Any further bids? Going once..."
Aryan held his breath. Rajasthan. Warne. The Underdogs.
"Sold! To the Rajasthan Royals for $300,000."
The hammer struck the block.
"YES!" Aryan leaped out of the chair, punching the air.
Priya screamed, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Tears streamed down her face. "My son! My millionaire son!"
"Oh my god, oh my god!" Riya was screaming into her phone. "HE’S A ROYAL! WE ARE RICH!"
Aryan sank back onto the sofa, a wide grin splitting his face. He wasn’t just rich. He was going to play under the greatest cricketing brain in history.
A system notification popped up in his vision, overlaying the jubilant TV broadcast.
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: THE MILLIONAIRE (Rupees)]
Condition: Sign a contract worth over 1 Crore.
Reward: +20,000 Legend Points.
New Questline Unlocked: [The IPL Dream]
The Call Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novel⦿fire.net
An hour later, the euphoria had settled into a buzzing excitement. Aryan’s phone rang. It was an unknown number with the international code +61. Australia.
Aryan swallowed hard. He swiped to answer.
"G’day, mate. Is this the Wonderkid?"
The voice was unmistakable. Raspy, confident, and dripping with charisma.
"Yes... this is Aryan."
"Shane Warne here," the voice said. "Welcome to the Royals, rockstar. I saw that switch hit against Kumble. Takes a special kind of madness to try that against Jumbo. I like madness."
"Thank you, Sk—Mr. Warne. It’s an honor."
"Call me Warnie, or Skip. Listen mate, pack your bags. We’re assembling in Jaipur next week. The pundits say we’re the weakest team on paper. They say we’re a bunch of retirees and kids."
Warne paused, and Aryan could almost hear the grin on the other end of the line.
"But cricket isn’t played on paper. It’s played in the mind. And we are going to smash them. See you soon, legend."
Aryan stared at the phone. Shane Warne just called him a legend.
Jaipur, March 2008 – The Pink City
The heat in Jaipur was different from Mumbai. It was dry, piercing, a desert heat that baked the ground hard.
Aryan stepped off the plane, adjusting his sunglasses. He was wearing the royal blue training kit of the Rajasthan Royals.
Walking beside him was another young player, slightly older, with a mischievous glint in his eye and hair that defied gravity.
"So, you’re the 1.2 Crore kid, huh?" the guy grinned, his Saurashtra accent thick.
"And you’re the U19 World Cup vice-captain," Aryan shot back with a smile. "Ravindra Jadeja. We’re in the same boat, Jaddu."
"Rockstars," Jadeja laughed, high-fiving him. "Warnie called me a rockstar. I think I team already."
They reached the team hotel—the Rambagh Palace. It was luxury on a scale Aryan had never seen, even in his previous life. Peacocks roamed the lawns. The architecture was regal.
As they entered the lobby, carrying their kit bags, they saw him.
Shane Warne was sitting on a plush sofa, holding a beer (disguised as apple juice for the press), surrounded by Graeme Smith, Shane Watson, and Yusuf Pathan.
"Oi! There they are! The future!" Warne bellowed, standing up. He wasn’t wearing the team jersey; he was in board shorts and a t-shirt.
He walked over and wrapped an arm around Aryan and Jadeja.
"Boys, meet the squad. Graeme, Watto, Yusuf. This is Aryan and Jaddu."
Graeme Smith, the South African captain, nodded stoically. Shane Watson, looking like a tank in human form, gave a thumbs up.
"Forget about the price tags," Warne addressed the room, his eyes scanning everyone. "In this team, I don’t care if you’re 15 or 40. I don’t care if you cost $1 million or $20,000. If you’re good enough, you play. We play hard, we party harder, and we win."
He looked directly at Aryan.
"Tomorrow, first net session. I want to see that knuckleball everyone is talking about