In an instant, Ake's heterochromatic eyes—one crimson, one gold—flared with a radiant halo, giving him an air of majesty and unshakable dominance.
Boom…
A chilling aura burst outward from him, filling the court.
The Seiyo players, except for Sendoh, had never seen Ake like this before. They froze, stunned by the cold, oppressive energy radiating from him.
Even the Meizawa players who had been charging forward hesitated. Their eyes widened in shock, their gazes eventually locking onto Ake.
'What... what is going on?'
"Oh… so he's finally getting serious," Sendoh thought immediately, recalling the same terrifying pressure Ake had once unleashed in their one-on-one match.
"It's him." Sawakita Eiji's brows furrowed as he stared at Ake. He could feel it—an invisible weight pressing down on him. And beneath that pressure… lurked danger.
It was the first time in his basketball career that Sawakita had ever felt something like this.
"Tch. Acting tough," Meizawa's point guard scoffed coldly and resumed dribbling.
But just as everyone expected Meizawa to strike back and score again—
Snap!
A crisp, shocking sound echoed through the gym.
The basketball that had been in the Meizawa point guard's hands was suddenly gone.
Everyone's heads turned—only to see the ball now in Ake's grasp.
'What?!'
The Meizawa guard stood frozen, dumbfounded. When his senses returned, his eyes darted toward Ake.
There he was—standing tall, eyes sharp and focused like a hawk locking onto prey. His toes tapped the court lightly, his entire body coiled like a predator about to pounce.
He had already stolen the ball with surgical precision—and before the guard could even react, Ake was moving again.
The Meizawa point guard roared, charging at Ake with furious determination, hoping to snatch the ball back through sheer strength.
But Ake's eyes flashed.
He shifted his right foot forward and to the left, twisting his ankle subtly. The ball slipped smoothly between his legs to his left hand.
The movement was small—but impossibly deceptive. It flowed like an arc drawn through the air, instantly shifting his balance.
As the Meizawa guard lunged left, Ake suddenly exploded to the right, his left foot pushing off the floor like a spring. In a blur, he slipped through the defender's reach, his movements as smooth and silent as the wind.
The guard tried to twist his body and turn—but he was already a step behind.
Ake slowed for half a second, pulling the ball back to his right hand. His right foot slid diagonally, and with a half-spin, the ball rolled past the Meizawa guard's feet.
The defender's balance shattered.
Thud.
He crashed to the floor, groaning in disbelief. His face twisted with frustration and shock.
Ake, meanwhile, landed gracefully—breathing evenly, completely composed, as if what he had just done was nothing out of the ordinary.
He turned to glance at the fallen player and said calmly, his voice steady but firm.
"You're too arrogant."
Thump… thump… thump…
Each dribble echoed like a heartbeat as Ake advanced toward Meizawa's basket, unhurried, poised—almost regal.
The crowd still hadn't processed what they'd seen. Then, two Meizawa players lunged in from both sides, roaring like tigers ready to trap him.
The audience gasped, the air heavy with tension.
But Ake only smiled faintly. The glow in his eyes flickered once more.
He controlled the ball smoothly with his right hand. Just as the defenders closed in, he drew the ball back between his legs to his left, his left toe pressing against the floor like a coiled spring. His body shifted left, weightlessly.
The first Meizawa player was caught off guard, stumbling left—only for Ake to snap back right in an instant. His right hand reclaimed the ball, his ankle twisting sharply as he accelerated.
He slipped past the first defender effortlessly.
The second one braced himself, trying to cut Ake off. But Ake's rhythm didn't falter. His left hand nudged the ball once more, his right caught it mid-bounce, and his entire body shot forward like lightning.
The two defenders, completely out of sync with his rhythm, lost control of their footing.
One fell flat trying to turn too quickly.
The other twisted his ankle and tumbled backward.
Thud… thud…
Two heavy impacts echoed across the silent court.
Ake didn't even look back.
He strode between them, calm and composed, as if walking through the wreckage of a battle he had already won.
He stopped at the free-throw line, lifted the ball with both hands, and let it rest lightly on his fingertips.
With a soft flick of his wrist—
Swish.
The ball arced beautifully through the air and dropped cleanly into the net.
At that moment, Ake looked every bit the king of the court.
He turned slowly toward the three fallen Meizawa players, his expression unreadable. Then, in a low, steady voice, he declared:
"I am absolute. Do not overstep."
The three players stared at him in shock, eyes wide and helpless.
The entire arena had fallen silent.
It was as if someone had pressed pause on the world itself.
Every spectator, every player, every coach—sat frozen.
The sound of the basketball bouncing had vanished. The air hung still.
For that brief moment, Ake stood alone— a crimson figure beneath the lights, towering over a court that felt smaller before him.