The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 114

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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 114
As Soo-ho’s towering hit vanished completely into the darkness of the night sky, silence descended upon the Ground.
102 miles (164 kilometers).
A fastball transcending human limits, obliterated into the stands by an even more overwhelming force.
The spectators, crushed by that surreal sight, had even forgotten to breathe.
“….”
What broke the silence was not a cheer, but a gasp laden with awe.
And it did not take long for that gasp to transform into a deafening roar.
“Waaaaaaaaaa!”
A thunderous cry poured down upon the Ground.
At the center of that cacophony, I rounded the bases with deliberate slowness.
Meanwhile, Victor Moretti on the Mound hung his head.
Utter devastation.
There was no other word to describe it.
It would not be an exaggeration to say he had staked his entire baseball career on this moment.
Without thought for the future, he had burned his body to its absolute limit for victory in the present.
The result was the miracle of 102 miles.
Yet even that had been denied.
When his greatest pitch returned in the cruelest manner possible.
The mental fortitude of a genius could only shatter.
“Pitcher substitution!”
Victor finally descended from the Mound.
His departing figure, acknowledging defeat, was pitiful to behold.
With their ace crumbling, the Salt River Rafters wavered dramatically.
Conversely, the Desert Dogs, their momentum soaring, descended like predators.
The go-ahead three-run home run I had launched was far more than mere points.
It was a signal flare proclaiming whose hand the goddess of victory had chosen to favor.
2:3.
2:4.
And 2:6.
The game flowed in one direction alone.
Yet not a single spectator in the Stands rose to leave.
This was the Arizona Fall League.
The gathering place of the world’s most exceptional talents, and the cradle of stars destined to dominate the future Major League.
An unscripted drama unfolding upon that elevated stage.
The awakening of a monstrous pitcher and the batter’s singular blow transcending it.
The spectators trembled simply at the fact that they were witnessing this historic moment with their own eyes.
And finally.
“Strike! Out! Game over!”
The Referee’s final call echoed through the air.
The Scoreboard read 2:6.
A perfect victory for the Desert Dogs.
* * *
“Both teams, line up!”
The Referee’s resonant voice rang out across the Ground.
In truth, in the Major League, after a game ended,
it was extremely rare to see players from both teams standing in a single line to exchange greetings.
Normally, the winners would cluster together on the Mound, cheering wildly,
while the losers would swallow the bitter taste of defeat and quietly disappear into the Dugout.
There was no obligation for winners and losers to face each other and shake hands.
That was the unwritten rule in the United States.
But today was different.
The Arizona Fall League was fundamentally different from the Minor League regular season or Playoffs from its very inception.
Strictly speaking, this place was nothing short of an extended All-Star Game, gathering the top prospects from each Baseball Club.
Moreover, given the nature of the Arizona Fall League, emphasis was placed on player development and education rather than the outcome itself.
The organizers, wielding such grand justifications, wanted to orchestrate a heartwarming scene of mutual encouragement after the game.
As a result, the players had to gather near Home Plate, regardless of their reluctance.
But Victor found this tedious and unfamiliar “ceremony” quite appealing.
After all, an opportunity to observe his opponent’s face up close and legitimately had fallen into his lap.
Victor moved with a deliberate, crooked gait.
He should have stood beside the Catcher, but he didn’t even glance in that direction.
“Move.”
“Huh? Victor?”
He shoved the shoulder of his teammate Henry, who had been standing perfectly fine.
Henry was the Shortstop.
He tried to protest in bewilderment, but Victor had already squeezed into that narrow gap.
The reason Victor went so far as to steal his own team’s Shortstop’s position was crystal clear.
Now Soo-ho stood directly across from him.
Victor gazed at him with a calm, settled intensity in his eyes.
The meaning was unmistakable.
‘Among everyone here, you’re the only one worthy of my greeting.’
Before Soo-ho could even react, Victor stepped forward and abruptly extended his right hand.
Camera flashes erupted around them.
Soo-ho’s gaze lingered on Victor’s rough hand.
It was an unmistakable acknowledgment from the loser toward the victor.
A prideful player like Victor extending his hand first, in front of everyone.
It meant he would accept the fact of his defeat without excuse, and treat Soo-ho, who had bested him, as an equal—
no, as a declaration that today he would regard him as a being standing above himself.
Soo-ho recognized the weight contained in that hand.
And so he nodded and extended his own hand.
Crack.
The two men’s hands clasped firmly in the air.
A weighty grip passed between them, as if confirming each other’s existence.
The rough, calloused texture of their palms met, and within that contact, I felt a burning heat.
“Take it.”
Victor spoke softly.
“It’s a courtesy to the victor.”
With those words, Victor released the hand he’d been gripping without hesitation.
“But only for today.”
Victor released my hand with a brief utterance.
The hidden meaning behind those words was clear.
Victor was already a confirmed monster—his Major League call-up for next season was assured.
It meant he was no longer a vessel meant to languish in this narrow Minor League basement.
And in promising a next meeting, he had already made his assumption.
That I, too, would soon step onto the Major League stage—a premise without doubt.
For an opponent he acknowledged could never rot away in the Minor Leagues.
Therefore, to Victor, my entry into the Big League was not an if.
Not a matter of IF, but an inevitable truth—as certain as the sun rising and setting.
A supreme being who had never bowed his head to anyone, who had never placed anyone on his level.
That very Victor had acknowledged his defeat.
By admitting that the one who had defeated him was worthy of standing in the same place.
Coming from a Major Leaguer, could there be any higher praise than this?
After that, Victor walked back to his Dugout without looking back.
His retreating figure bore the bitter taste of defeat, yet somehow appeared even more imposing than before.
Perhaps until now, baseball had been a trivial game to Victor.
No matter how hard he ran, there was no one standing before him.
But today, he had encountered a wall for the first time.
That sense of defeat would not be poison—it would be a catalyst.
Therefore, the next time I faced Victor, he would undoubtedly have become a far more terrifying monster.
On the other hand.
I looked down at my own palm.
“Thank you.”
I murmured quietly.
Had anyone heard, they might have thought me mad.
Thanking an enemy who had just been trying to tear out my throat.
But it was absolutely sincere.
‘I’m grateful I met a monster like you.’
I clenched and unclenched my fist, searching through my memories.
Victor Moretti.
The thrill from when I first encountered that name was still vivid.
The Minor League’s top-ranked pitcher, revered by all.
He threw 160 kilometers with contemptuous ease, crushing batters beneath his heel like insects—that overwhelming dominance.
To Soo-ho back then, Victor was an insurmountable wall he dared not approach.
‘Honestly, while I seized it as an opportunity, it would be a lie to say I wasn’t terrified.’
But because I met Victor.
Because I had the goal of surpassing him.
I strove to shatter my own limitations.
Ironically, the primary architect who elevated Soo-ho to his current position in the Major League was Victor himself.
Because he was so formidable.
In my pursuit to catch him, I somehow found myself standing at that same lofty height.
‘Without you, there would be no me now.’
I watched Victor’s receding back, that confident silhouette growing distant.
Even in defeat, he didn’t appear diminished.
Rather, he was steeling himself with bitter resolve, preparing to grow even more formidable.
‘That’s right. I’ll see you in the Major League.’
I’ll be there soon, so wait for me.
* * *
Crackle.
The stadium announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, cutting through the static.
“Thank you for your patience! The Arizona Fall League! The final victor who wrote the legend of autumn! We present to you the glorious champion!”
A majestic melody swelled as roars erupted from the Stands.
“The Glendale Desert Dogs!”
Roooaaarrr!
Fireworks exploded, and multicolored confetti scattered across the Ground.
Soo-ho was pushed forward by his teammates toward the center of the podium.
As if by unspoken agreement, everyone had designated him as the one to hoist the trophy.
Though he wasn’t officially the captain.
Everyone knew who the true leader was—the one who had carried this team to this moment.
The League Office director handed over an enormous championship trophy.
A golden trophy gleaming with the warmth of autumn sunlight.
I gripped its cold, weighty form firmly in both hands.
“One, two, three!”
With a shout, I hoisted the trophy high above my head.
“Yeeeeaaaaahhhhh!”
My teammates circled around me, their cheers ringing out.
We embraced each other’s shoulders, savoring the joy of victory.
I gazed at my reflection in the trophy, lost in contemplation.
‘This is already the second time.’
A memory flickered through my mind.
Not long ago, I had lifted a trophy of similar weight in the Low-A League.
And today, standing atop the Arizona Fall League—a stage where the finest prospects gathered—I had reached the summit once again.
‘This cannot end as mere coincidence.’
I would have to work harder and become a far better player than I am now.
Of course, regardless of what I thought.
In the end, I had conquered both the Minor League and the Arizona Fall League in a single season.
This brilliant résumé would soon be placed upon the negotiation table with the Baseball Club.
* * *
The joy of lifting the championship trophy was fleeting.
Before the sticky champagne spray in the Locker Room had even dried, the players had to pack their belongings.
The end of the Arizona Fall League meant winter had begun for those who belonged here.
For Minor League players, winter is not a time of rest.
It is a ruthless season of evaluation—when futures are decided, when treatment from the organization shifts, when some are released and others survive.
Because of this, Soo-ho, Mark, and Casey hurried onto a flight bound for Los Angeles.
And a few hours later.
At the gate of Los Angeles International Airport.
The three stood in a daze.
Unlike the glittering Arizona night they had just left behind, the Los Angeles air was cold and bustling.
It felt like waking from a dream.
None of the passersby could have known that these three had just conquered Arizona and returned as champions.
It was Mark who broke the silence first.
He smacked his lips and grumbled.
“Hey, we’re still members of the championship team. Isn’t this a bit too bleak?”
“….”
“We’re champions, for crying out loud. Shouldn’t we at least throw a party among ourselves? Let’s grab some steaks! Korean food works too!”
Casey nodded in agreement with Mark’s words.
Though others didn’t yet recognize them for what they were, that didn’t mean they couldn’t celebrate their own achievement.
But right then.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
As if orchestrated, all three pockets vibrated simultaneously.
The three exchanged glances as though they had made a pact.
Phones ringing at the same moment.
I didn’t know who was calling.
But at this time, with this timing, there was only one place it could be.
The three swallowed hard and pressed the answer button simultaneously.
“Hello?”
Soo-ho answered the call with composure.
A familiar yet businesslike voice came through the receiver.
[Soo-ho. This is the Dodgers Operations Team.]
“Yes, I’m listening.”
[Congratulations on winning the Arizona Fall League championship. The organization would like to discuss Soo-ho’s future plans and contract terms. Would tomorrow morning work for you?]
It was a straightforward matter.
Without any need for pleasantries, the organization was demanding business directly and without ceremony.
I didn’t feel coldness in it.
After all, I had rolled and broken myself under that scorching sun precisely to receive this single phone call.
My lips curved upward in a thick smile.
Without hanging up, I turned to look at Mark and Casey standing beside me with their eyes wide open.
Their expressions mirrored my own.
Tension, and anticipation.
I let out a quiet laugh and opened my mouth.
“Mark.”
“Huh?”
“Should we… hold the party after the negotiations?”
Winter had arrived.
But for me, it felt like it would be the warmest winter yet.

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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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