The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 111

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 111
Just a few steps toward the Batter’s Box.
In that brief moment, Soo-ho shut out the roar that filled the Stadium and focused entirely on his inner self.
‘Victor Moretti.’
The monster on the Mound was breathing heavily, his eyes blazing with intensity.
It wasn’t mere hostility.
It was the gaze of a predator facing its prey, and the fierce acknowledgment a warrior sends when meeting an equal opponent.
‘That’s right. You understand it too.’
Today’s match wasn’t just a game of baseball.
But Soo-ho swallowed a quiet laugh.
The weight Victor felt and the weight I carried were qualitatively different.
‘You have somewhere to return to if you fail, don’t you?’
A first-round draft pick.
An elite prospect who received over ten million dollars in signing bonuses alone.
Even if he lost here, he could receive the media’s consolation that it was valuable experience.
He had the luxury of looking forward to next season.
‘In the Major League, no less.’
But what about me?
Soo-ho tightened his grip on the bat.
‘I have nowhere to return to.’
Even if I went back, no opportunity would be granted.
So for me, this place was a stage for my dreams, but simultaneously—
It was a cliff’s edge where falling meant death.
‘Just because I hit for the cycle yesterday doesn’t mean it’s over.’
To put it bluntly, the Minor League Baseball was full of players who hit .300, crushed home runs, yet rotted away as perpetual prospects before disappearing.
Good individual statistics alone don’t guarantee becoming a Major Leaguer.
The ultimate goal, after all, was the Major League.
To enter that realm, a mere evaluation of being a ‘good player’ wasn’t enough.
I needed one decisive blow capable of planting certainty in the Team Management’s mind.
‘Organizations always move cautiously.’
Opportunities are granted when there’s ‘justification.’
And justification is built from something more solid than numbers.
‘That’s a championship, precisely.’
Big-market clubs like the Dodgers always aimed for a World Series championship.
What would be the most preferred component for such a team?
A mere machine that hits the ball well? No.
A player with the DNA of victory—one who leads the team to triumph in crucial moments and ultimately brings home the trophy.
‘So if I lift the championship trophy here….’
I’d be elevated to the status of a player who won the team a championship.
‘That difference is as vast as heaven and earth.’
If personal records are a portfolio proving individual skill,
then a championship title is like a promissory note guaranteeing one’s value.
Therefore, this title—not as one of forty,
would become the most certain and powerful weapon for eventually entering the Major League 26-man roster.
For someone like me, a foreigner,
it was the only shortcut to surpass existing competitors and break through that narrow door.
‘I have to take it.’
Not out of mere vanity.
It was a thorough survival strategy and an investment for the future.
Standing in the Batter’s Box, Soo-ho fixed his gaze on Victor.
‘But the player standing at that threshold is simply too strong.’
A prospect for the Major League.
Truly an enviable position.
The dream I so desperately desire, he has already grasped in his hands.
But.
Soo-ho shook his head, clearing away the distracting thoughts.
This was not the time to indulge in envy or sentiment.
I could only think of defeating my opponent.
After all, he was a wall I had to overcome.
‘My goal in this at-bat isn’t a home run or extra-base hit.’
I’ll be as annoying as possible and wear him down.
And I’ll get on base no matter what.
The reason was clear.
Trying for extra-base hits against Victor, who is now throwing with genuine intensity and malice?
‘Honestly, it’s too difficult.’
Casey and Mark before me had retreated helplessly.
Even I, speaking coldly, was not yet a complete batter.
Of course, once this game ends, it will be the off-season, and by then I will have achieved tremendous growth.
‘I’ve already gained something.’
Double-A promotion is already confirmed, and I’ve received an invitation to Spring Training.
The team’s support will be incomparably better than during my Low-A days.
Most critically, I’ll have sufficient time to train, so my skills will undoubtedly improve dramatically.
But that’s a story for the future.
‘Not right now.’
So pulling off a satisfying knockout against Victor right now was practically impossible in reality.
This stage was too harsh to chase ideals rather than reality, and my opponent was too formidable.
‘But if I can be annoying and manage to get on base,’
things would be different.
Victor is now desperately fixated on striking me out.
There was no way I couldn’t sense it.
He’d already gotten a hit off him in both the League game and the All-Star Game.
Would someone with that much pride just let it slide?
‘Absolutely not.’
Soo-ho would have felt the same way, and so would any other professional player with a competitive fire.
‘So here, I need to exploit his emotions.’
A simple out wouldn’t satisfy Victor.
‘He’s craving an overwhelming strikeout. A perfect victory, nothing less.’
That excessive bloodlust was his weakness.
Power too great shatters, and a mind too hot clouds judgment.
‘I just need to avoid painting the picture he wants to see.’
Drag him into a mud-slinging fight, splash dirt all over that lofty pride of his.
That was how I would win at this Batter’s Box.
No. That was how I would win the final game.
Soo-ho stepped into the Batter’s Box while Victor stood on the Mound.
Their gazes locked in mid-air, and the battle began.
Victor moved first.
From a dynamic form like a massive bowstring being drawn, a white flash erupted.
Whoooosh!
A sound like the air itself was being torn apart split the stadium.
It was absolutely overwhelming.
Even with Soo-ho’s dynamic vision, he could barely catch the afterimage.
A violent fastball that didn’t even allow the batter time to react.
“Strike!”
The Referee’s call rang out across the Stadium.
The power to silence the left-center stands with just one pitch was truly formidable.
But Soo-ho didn’t flinch, gripping his bat with unwavering resolve.
The second pitch came.
Victor threw again.
The trajectory was identical to the first.
A 100-mile fastball boring in at knee height.
Soo-ho’s shoulder twitched.
But just as the bat was about to come out, the ball dropped away like a lie.
A changeup with such devastating drop that “perfect” didn’t even do it justice.
Whoosh!
“Ball!”
Yet Soo-ho managed to hold back his swing.
It was only possible because I’d read his psychology.
He’d shown overwhelming power on the first pitch.
On the second, he’d want to build a more favorable count to secure the strikeout.
I knew he was trying to force a wild swing by exploiting the batter’s impatience.
He had read that ‘greed’ and chose not to respond to it.
‘Honestly, if he’d come just a bit further into the Strike Zone, I would’ve been helpless against it.’
Soo-ho’s lips curved upward.
Conversely, this meant.
‘Victor hasn’t lost his composure—that’s the proof.’
And that was a relief.
If he had lost his composure.
‘The count would’ve been against him.’
Therefore, everything was still unfolding according to my plan.
And the battle that followed was nothing short of exquisite.
Like masters of martial arts testing their techniques against one another, a fierce exchange of moves continued.
When Victor probed the outside, Soo-ho cut it off; when he drove deep inside, Soo-ho pulled back half a beat faster.
In this clash of spear and shield, the count had reached 3-2.
A full count.
The situation before the fateful sixth pitch.
Soo-ho choked up on the bat and thought.
‘He’ll definitely throw a strike.’
The reasoning was clear.
Victor was desperate to crush me right now.
But if I threw a tempting pitch here and gave him a walk?
‘That wouldn’t be a duel—that would be evasion, and I’d be the one winning.’
A prideful man like Victor would never accept such a lukewarm outcome.
Therefore, the pitch would absolutely come within the Strike Zone.
Then what about the pitch type?
‘A fastball.’
Nine times out of ten, a fastball.
No. It was 100%.
When a pitcher wants to overwhelm his opponent, he reaches for his most powerful weapon.
With the options narrowed, there was no reason to hesitate.
Victor wound up.
Just as I predicted, the ball released from his hand was a 100-mile fastball that drove straight through.
‘Just as I thought….’
If you know your opponent’s move, you can respond.
Whoosh!
Soo-ho displayed a clean, abbreviated swing, as if abandoning any desire for a home run.
He focused solely on making contact, and bat met ball.
Crack!
A crisp sound of impact rang out.
Though he hadn’t put full force behind it, he had pushed the ball using the recoil of the 100-mile pitch itself.
The ball rolled swiftly along the Third Base Line.
The Third Baseman threw himself at the ball with animal instinct.
Crack!
He snagged the batted ball with a diving catch. It was an incredible defensive play.
But the moment he rose to his feet and tried to throw to First Base—
Soo-ho had already crossed First Base.
The instant the ball left the bat, I sensed an infield hit and sprinted at full speed.
And my base-running speed—
was among the fastest in the Arizona Fall League.
“Safe! Safe!”
The Referee’s arms spread wide to the sides.
An infield hit.
Victor’s expression twisted ferociously for a moment.
But in contrast, Soo-ho’s lips curved upward in a gentle smile.
* * *
It seemed Soo-ho’s swift infield hit might shift the momentum.
But Victor remained unshaken.
As if such trivial tricks could never rattle him.
He let out a cold laugh and began crushing the subsequent batters with sheer force.
From that point on, the game became Victor Moretti’s solo stage.
The score was 2:0.
By now, the Scoreboard displayed the sixth inning.
While the Salt River Rafters, Victor’s team, gradually pulled ahead with two runs—
the Desert Dogs’ batting lineup, Soo-ho’s team, fell silent.
Just one team hit.
The infield hit Soo-ho created in the first inning was the only one.
Victor’s pitching was that overwhelming.
No—with each passing inning, the ball grew faster and the breaking pitches sharper.
“Ugh… this is driving me crazy, seriously.”
The bottom of the sixth, starting with the eighth batter.
Mark pounded his chest repeatedly in the Dugout.
It was frustrating enough.
Normally, by the sixth inning, a pitcher’s velocity should drop or his control should falter.
But that monster showed no signs of exhaustion—instead, he was soaring even higher.
Like a sovereign commanding the Mound.
His momentum had reached its peak, radiating an aura so overwhelming that no one dared approach.
Casey beside him shook his head in disgust.
“He’s maintaining his pitcher’s pace throughout. There’s no sign of his strength fading. I can’t tell when he’ll break. Maybe we should try something unconventional—a surprise bunt play…”
It was when everyone was growing weary of Victor’s dominance and feeling defeat—
that Soo-ho quietly opened his mouth.
“No. An opportunity will come.”
My gaze remained fixed on Victor as I spoke with unwavering conviction.
“Casey. You have to get on base this at-bat. No matter what—a hit, a walk, a hit-by-pitch. I don’t care. The moment you touch First Base, Victor will crumble.”
Mark and Casey exchanged confused glances at my words.
Their bewilderment was understandable.
This monster would collapse just because one more runner got on base?
He still had plenty of pitches left in him, and his stuff was even sharper than in the first inning.
If this were the eighth or ninth inning, I might suspect fatigue, but we’d only just entered the sixth.
“…You really believe that?”
At Casey’s question, I nodded.
“I’m certain of it.”
I explained my reasoning step by step.
“Right now, Victor is channeling superhuman concentration.”
Beyond merely winning, he’s pouring every ounce of his energy into each batter and each pitch, driven by a singular obsession to instill overwhelming terror.
“But as long as he’s human, there’s a limit to how long he can sustain that extreme tension.”
He’s burning fuel to maintain his velocity, and his tank is running dry—only he doesn’t realize it yet.
‘He’s never experienced it.’
I knew this intimately.
All those countless nights in Korea when I’d pushed myself to the absolute brink—whether to succeed or to rise again after failure.
The sensation of mental endurance, holding on and holding on, until the moment that thread of tension loosened even slightly and everything came crashing down in utter exhaustion.
It was a realm I could understand only because I’d suffered through it more desperately than anyone else.
But Victor?
“Would a genius like him have ever driven himself to the edge of a cliff like that?”
No. He wouldn’t have.
He’d always won with ease, always overcome crises through his natural talent.
Right now, Victor was overextending himself.
He was forcibly drawing on more energy than his vessel could contain.
“Especially since Victor is American, like you guys.”
Not because America is individualistic, but because player development follows a different philosophy—something I understood well.
“First-round picks hear the same thing from childhood.”
Maximize your strengths.
Build your routine.
Manage your physical condition and mental state yourself.
All education converges on the individual.
Before sacrifice for the team, they learn to perfect their personal performance.
“And Minor League Baseball is the same way, isn’t it?”
It emphasizes individual performance over team championships.
Championships only become important after you reach the Major Leagues.
That’s why I knew.
If cracks formed in Victor’s unfamiliar current environment, he would eventually collapse.
A taut rubber band snaps from even the smallest tear.
Soo-ho’s eyes gleamed with fierce intensity.
“So just get on base. We’ll bring down Victor this inning.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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