Allahu Akbar!
Allahu Akbar!
Knock knock—
"Hey, Seong-muk. You in your room?"
A knock at the hotel door.
Wondering who it was, I opened it to find Hwang Tae-gang standing there.
"Yo, what's up?"
"Japan's playing Pakistan soon, so I thought we could watch with the guys in the hall."
"Sounds good. Let's head over."
I slipped on my flip-flops and followed behind Hwang Tae-gang, dragging my feet with that classic slap-slap sound. He glanced back at me cautiously and asked,
"Did you meet up with a girl yesterday?"
"Huh…."
How'd he know?
I wondered if someone had spotted me, but thankfully, that wasn't the case.
"I saw you yesterday, getting into that car with the woman you met at the airport. And you got back to the dorm pretty late."
"Oh, that…."
Phew, what a relief.
I let out a sigh and patted his shoulder.
"Just a school friend. Her family's loaded, so we grabbed a meal. Keep it quiet, though—I don't want rumors flying."
"Mm, sure, I'll keep it secret, but it's already…."
"What?"
"…Nothing. The guys are waiting—let's go."
Hwang Tae-gang walked off with a meaningful look. I was curious, but the guy was tight-lipped as they come, so I didn't press.
"Oh, there he is!"
"Comrade Seong-muk and Comrade Tae-gang have arrived."
In the hall, Ma Cho-won, Choi Seok-ho, Ri Dong-hyeok, and the others were already gathered around the TV. I plopped down next to them just as the game kicked off—perfect timing.
"Japan versus Pakistan… No clue who to root for."
"Yeah, we've got guys from our school on both sides."
Me and Ri Dong-hyeok were stuck in a dilemma.
Ryu Ji was on Japan, Hassan on Pakistan.
Both were precious teammates, so picking a side felt wrong. Win or lose, I just hoped they'd shine and come back stronger.
The broadcast camera zoomed in on Hassan.
We watching on TV were floored.
"Was that guy always like that…?"
"Comrade Hassan, what the hell happened…!?"
The innocent, spotless Hassan was gone.
Dangerous eyes brimming with destructive urges.
A mad expression that could explode any second.
It was no exaggeration to say the pre-national team Hassan and this one were completely different people.
I was just as shocked.
Then a lightbulb went off in my head.
Pakistan… and Islam. No way…?
A hypothesis flashed through my mind.
If it was true, it might explain Hassan's transformation.
About three weeks earlier.
Pakistan national team staff waited with bated breath for their new recruit.
"Heard we got a real character this time?"
"Yeah, a monster talent who's gonna carry Pakistan baseball."
"Heh, can't wait to see how manly he is!"
All those high hopes came crashing down at first sight.
"H-Hello! I'm Hassan Iqbal! Nice to meet you!!"
There stood a fresh-faced young man, untouched by the world's grime. They had imagined a warrior who'd smash a 160km fastball into an opponent's skull if provoked.
This was nothing like that.
"Nooooooo…!!!"
"What the hell is this harmless creature?!"
"Ahem… This is bad."
The manager and coaches even held an emergency meeting.
Hassan was meant to be the face of Pakistan baseball, a role model for countless prospects.
But with that soft personality, he'd never inspire anyone. Hardware-wise, his talent was top-tier, but the software was lacking—that was their verdict.
"Guess it's down to that ritual after all."
"Proceed as soon as we get his consent."
The youth team's biggest goal was Hassan's growth. For that, they'd assembled a dream coaching staff of Pakistan's best pitching experts.
If the ritual toughened his body and mind, combined with their coaching, Hassan would explode in potential.
When the manager explained the ritual, Hassan's eyes went wide.
"A r-ritual? For me?"
"Yes. Upper management's already approved it. Just say the word, and we start."
"Mm…."
Hassan pondered.
The "ritual" was no joke.
Submerging in holy water to receive a "great spirit."
The strength of the spirit depended on the vessel—done right, it could boost talent several levels. But…
It's insanely dangerous. Tons of people die.
One wrong move, and you'd drown.
Rumors said one in two didn't make it.
North Korea's Baekdu Bloodline process was similar for player enhancement but safer with their resources. Pakistan's was cheaper—just dunk the player in water since "the water knows the answers"—but the risk was off the charts.
Still, after agonizing, Hassan agreed.
"I'll do it… the ritual!"
"Excellent choice!"
…I need to get strong like my hyungs.
Hassan clenched his fist.
Munhyeok High's Sejong Tournament push was likely their one and only shot this year. He wanted to help his teammates, risks be damned.
"Follow me, then."
Hassan rode with the manager. Hours later, a massive mosque loomed.
"Badshahi Mosque…!!"
Built in the Mughal era, this key Pakistani landmark was where Hassan's ritual would take place.
Beneath the grand dome lay a vast underground chamber. Down the stairs, a cloaked priest sat waiting.
"You've come, descendant of Iqbal."
"……."
Gulp!
Hassan swallowed hard in tension.
"Come here. The ritual happens in this chamber."
"This is… a stone coffin?"
A long sarcophagus that looked like it might hold a mummy.
The priest slid open the lid, revealing water-filled depths.
"Descendant of Iqbal, you'll submerge here for up to seven minutes to commune with the 'great spirit.'"
"Seven minutes…!"
A normal person could hold their breath one to two minutes.
Over four minutes, survival odds dropped to 50%. Past five, just 25%. Filling the max time was suicide.
Hassan aimed for two and a half.
Tough, but he'd push his limits.
"When you hit your limit, press the escape mechanism inside. Remember: we can't save you until seven minutes unless you do. Got it?"
"Yes, I'll remember."
"Prepare to enter the holy water blessed by Allah!"
Stripped to a loincloth, Hassan climbed in.
"Hup…!"
Deep breath, then full submersion.
Splash!
The lid sealed shut.
Hassan squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath.
Whew, whew… Still manageable…
But time crawled like eternity.
Less than two minutes in, panic set.
Gasp, huff. Just a bit more!
Willpower kept him going.
Two-thirty hit.
Good, time to bail…!
He hit the mechanism—but
It… won't work?
No response, no matter how he yanked.
His gut screamed: it was broken.
"Cough, cough!!"
Breath-holding maxed out.
Water flooded his mouth.
"Glug glug…!!"
Torture.
Vision blurring.
Death loomed.
Life flashed: brightest moments with Seong-muk.
Playing his beloved baseball in powerhouse Korea with the best teammates. Even fading, he thought:
I can't die like this.
Even if early, he had to finish the Sejong Tournament.
"Grrraaah…!!"
Eyes bulging against the water, he clung to consciousness.
Thinking of Munhyeok High comrades.
Seong-muk hyung…!
The man who'd launched him into baseball, a lifelong benefactor. First in his mind.
Seok Un-gang…
Clashed over religion once, but always steadied his mind and caught his pitches. Second.
Chan-jun hyung, Dong-hyeok hyung…
Pitching crew next.
Faces of those who'd filled Munhyeok's weak staff flickered.
Ryu Ji hyung, Adam hyung, Do-jin hyung, Su-yong hyung, Tae-kyung, Kyung-su hyung!!
Fielders guarding his back, scoring after blowups for wins.
For them, he couldn't die here.
Lord, grant me strength to overcome…!
With that prayer, his mind went black.
But in the fade, he witnessed it.
Right before blackout:
Holy light bathing him, a divine form.
"Whew, what a shame."
"Yeah, another promising kid devoured by the ritual…."
Most ritual deaths came from pushing "just a bit more" till blackout.
Seven minutes submerged? Survival near zero.
Staff resignedly opened the lid.
They jolted—bubbles still rising. He was alive?
"H-He's alive…!"
"Get him out!!"
They yanked Hassan out, cleared water, gave CPR. He came to.
"Cough, cough…!!"
"Hassan! You okay!?"
Worried stares.
But Hassan rose casually.
"Ah…!"
"……!!"
His eyes—totally changed.
Fierce, glowing with feral intensity never seen before.
…Jackpot! This is huge!
Which one did he meet? Jibril? Idris? Mikail?
Angels and prophets from the Quran raced through their minds.
Wrong.
Hassan had met something far greater.
"Ah, aaaaah…!!"
The priest trembled in awe, then shouted in ecstasy.
"Allahu Akbar…!!"
"…Allah!?"
Staff freaked.
They gaped at Hassan in disbelief.
But this priest was Islam's most revered.
His word was gospel.
They knelt before the apostle of the greatest one.
And asked carefully,
"What prophecy did Allah bestow?"
"………."
Hassan gazed down silently.
Then spoke.
"With the power inherited from God, become everyone's hope—the star."
"Ooooh…!!"
Staff overwhelmed.
They prostrated repeatedly, cheering.
"Allahu Akbar!!"
"Allahu Akbar!!"
Allahu Akbar!!
Allahu Akbar!!
The praises echoed through Badshahi Mosque. The frenzied roars showed no sign of stopping.
"Wha… huh?"
Possession lifted, Hassan blinked around confused.
Back to his innocent self, he panicked at the fanatics bowing nonstop.
Wh-What's this? Scary…!
Just weeks ago, he'd been bumming in Korea with his dad.
Now, he was Pakistan's star.