A sinister violet-black glow engulfed the court.
For a brief moment, a colossal axe seemed to swing through the air, splitting the atmosphere with a shockwave.
Black Axe.
After last year's Nationals, Oni Juujirou had perfected this technique with Yoru's guidance.
Unlike Destruction, Black Axe wasn't about merging techniques into the Light Ball Strike—instead, it fused sweet-spot precision into a single, overwhelming attribute:
Pure. Raw. Power.
After months of refinement, Oni had elevated it to Level 14—a devastating force.
Yoru's arm snapped forward.
The ball tore across the court like a meteor, leaving a trail of dark-purple energy.
"This impact—?!"
Ryoga's pupils shrank.
In the next instant, the ball slammed into the ground. The shockwave rippled outward, shaking the entire facility.
BOOM—!
Spectators whipped their heads toward the commotion.
QP inhaled sharply.
Yoru had never used this against him—he only knew it was a replica of Oni's move.
"If I were on the court… even with Pinnacle of Perfection, I might not be able to return it."
---
Around the stadium:
"What the hell was that noise?!"
"Some Asian kids playing… they look young."
"That sounded like a damn explosion—I almost bolted!"
"Thought we had another 'five-star citizen' incident."
"Let's watch. This looks insane."
Crowds began gathering.
---
On the court:
Ryoga couldn't meet the shot head-on.
He backpedaled frantically, buying time for the ball's momentum to decay.
Just before hitting the wall, he shifted his grip, slicing upward in a desperate counter.
Something bizarre happened.
A miniature tornado coiled around his racket, swirling violently as it clashed with the ball.
"A force-diffusing technique?"
Yoru's eyes narrowed.
He hadn't held back at all.
[Detected replicable technique: Borrowed Force. Copy?]
"Copy."
[Borrowed Force (Lv. 10) acquired. 120% feedback—Mastered at Lv. 12!]
So this was Ryoga's counter to power shots—using precise slices to deflect momentum while retaining some of the opponent's force.
But there was a catch:
You had to withstand the initial impact.
And Ryoga couldn't.
A Level 14 Black Axe was beyond his current limits—even with stacked talents and skills.
At lower levels, a 2-Star gap might be surmountable.
But post-10 Stars?
Each Star was a chasm.
CRACK—!
Ryoga's racket shattered on impact.
The ball cratered the wall behind him, spiderweb cracks exploding outward in a one-meter radius.
Failed deflection.
Yoru scores! 15-0!
---
"If that hit me, I'd be one giant bruise."
Ryoga stared at the wrecked wall, gulping.
The spectators were dead silent.
Whether Seigaku members or random onlookers, everyone was terrified.
"I… I think that was scarier than the Light Ball Strike," Eiji whispered, trembling.
That was a concrete wall. And it had been shattered.
Yoru's voice cut through the tension.
"Your deflection skill isn't enough for this shot."
His tone was icy, his presence towering—like a colossus gazing down at ants.
Even bystanders felt the weight of his aura.
"Big bro, you're trying to kill me!" Ryoga groaned. "Lose me, and you lose the world's most handsome little brother!"
How could someone so normal-looking pack this much power?
"Against you? I can't afford to hold back."
THWACK—!
Another serve—a basic flat shot, but with monstrous speed and weight.
The rally escalated into a blur of exchanges.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Ryoga unleashed dozens of unique techniques, never repeating a single one.
Yet Yoru countered everything, his Level 14 Zone suppressing Ryoga's options.
No matter what spin-neutralizing tricks Ryoga tried, the vortex swallowed his shots whole.
Unless he could replicate Muga no Kyouchi – Muga no Kyouchi, he was trapped.
"He's… too strong."
Ryoma's hands shook.
This was a far cry from the matches he'd seen before.
Tezuka and the others didn't dare blink.
Every exchange rewrote their understanding of tennis.
Yoru was dismantling Ryoga's entire arsenal—just like he'd done to Byoudouin Houou.
"Enough."
Yoru's patience wore thin.
Most of Ryoga's absorbed techniques were filler—flashy but ineffective.
His racket flared again.
"Next one's coming. Brace yourself."
"Another Light Ball Strike?" Fuji frowned—then jolted. "Wait—!"
KABOOM—!
The light this time was blinding, dwarfing the stadium's lamps.
Light Ball Strike – Destruction.
"Meet Destruction—super sweet-spot edition."
The ball vaporized the air in its path.
"BIG BRO, ARE YOU TRYING TO MURDER ME?!"
Ryoga dove off the court.
BOOOOOOM—!
A dust cloud mushroomed upward.
The already cracked wall imploded, leaving a charred, smoldering crater.
"So… strong…"
Ryoma's knees wobbled.
For the first time, he felt the ocean between himself and his brothers.
"What's with the gloomy face, shrimp?"
A large hand ruffled his hair.
The Seigaku team turned—
A squad in U-17 jackets had arrived.
Yoru smirked, resting his racket on his shoulder.
"Took you long enough."
---