The glass court of penance glowed blood-red under the stained windows. Ren stood alone, racket trembling in his hands. Across the net, two ranked disciples—tall, armored in matching uniforms, smirks sharp as blades.
The priest's voice echoed: "Begin."
The first rally exploded like gunfire. Heavy drives cornered Ren instantly. His legs screamed, lungs burned. By the third point, sweat blinded his eyes.
Two against one... every shot doubles back at me. This isn't padel—it's execution.
The scoreboard chimed cruelly: 0–3.
In the stands, Shizuka bit her lip, fury trembling through her clenched fists. Maria's eyes narrowed, jaw tight. Mio whispered his name, knuckles white around the rail.
Daigo's voice cut like thunder: "Don't chase points, brat! Chase time! Make them play longer than they can breathe!"
Ren staggered, heartbeat hammering. Time... longer... survive until they break.
His HUD flickered:
[Hidden Skill Condition Met]
Endless Rally (Lv.1) — UNLOCKED
(Effect: Lock focus & rhythm. Stamina consumption reduced. Opponents' mental fatigue doubled with each rally.)
The world slowed. The glass beneath him hummed with rhythm. The ball bounced—he inhaled. Opponents smashed—he exhaled.
I don't need to win points. I need to make them drown.
Shot after shot, he returned. Drives, lobs, volleys, smashes—he absorbed, redirected, survived. The rally stretched—20 shots, 30, 40. The crowd's jeers faded into stunned silence.
By 50 shots, his arms shook, but his mind felt sharp. His vision tunneled—opponents' shoulders glowed faint red, their footwork sloppy.
They're cracking.
On the 71st ball, the taller disciple lunged, mistimed his volley—the ball struck net. The rally collapsed.
The scoreboard flickered: 1–3.
The silence of the arena shattered into gasps.
"He... he turned it around?"
"No one survives a 70-ball rally!"
"Who is this Substitute Messiah?!"
Ren collapsed to his knees, gasping, sweat pooling under him. His HUD glowed:
Endless Rally (Lv.1) — Active
Stamina +2 / Mental +1
Across the net, his opponents panted, chests heaving, fury in their eyes.
The priest's calm voice carried again: "Set continues."
Ren forced himself up, body trembling but eyes alive. I can't win their game. But I can make them play mine.
Ren standing again, battered but unbroken, racket glowing faintly, while the crowd stares in disbelief—two ranked opponents rattled, one substitute still standing.
Even if I lose, they'll never forget how long I stood.