Yoru's dodge nearly made Byoudouin Houou's snot bubble pop out of sheer disbelief.
Everyone—including the umpire—stared at him in stunned silence. A European woman in the audience even burst out laughing.
"Why the hell did you dodge?!" Byoudouin roared.
Yoru blinked. "Excuse me? What kind of question is that?"
"If I can't return it, of course I'm dodging."
"You think I'm some shounen protagonist who'll risk my life to tank an unreturnable shot?"
"That's Destruction —it'll kill me. Do I look mentally ill to you?"
He rolled his eyes, but his attention was already elsewhere. A series of mechanical chimes echoed in his mind:
[Perfect Copy triggered. Copy "Destruction (Lv. 5)"?]
Yes.
[Copy successful. 120% feedback applied. You have mastered "Destruction (Lv. 8)."]
"Huh?"
Yoru paused. "Why Lv. 8? Shouldn't it be Lv. 7?"
[120% feedback amplifies base power, not level increments.]
"But when I copied the Zero-Shiki series and Moonlight Vertical Serve, they jumped two levels. Is 'Destruction' weaker?"
[No. 'Destruction' grows rapidly until Lv. 10. Post-Lv. 10, even 120% feedback would only grant +1 level.]
[Each technique's potential scales differently. Zero-Shiki's feedback remains +2 even post-Lv. 10. It's about inherent ceilings.]
"Damn, that's intricate. Almost like the system's grading techniques by latent potential."
[Of course. The "Little Warhorse" talent doesn't deal in mediocrity.]
Fair point.
---
"Byoudouin Houou scores! 30-0!"
The umpire's call snapped Yoru back to reality.
He strolled to the baseline, not even bothering with a defensive stance—as if ready to bolt at any moment.
Kaedou frowned. "Is Captain… giving up this game?"
"That'd be so… uh…" Kawasaki trailed off, struggling for a polite term.
"Pathetic?" Inuzuma supplied.
"SHUT IT!" Mouri snarled. "Maybe he's analyzing! You fools understand nothing!"
Yoru was his idol. He wouldn't tolerate slander, even from teammates.
But QP cut in calmly: "He's conceding the game."
Silence.
QP's word was law. Yet this didn't align with Yoru's usual ruthlessness.
"Doesn't feel like him," Yamato muttered.
QP sighed. "Ask yourselves: Has Yoru ever risked injury for a single point? No. You've just never seen him need to retreat."
"He knows when to fight and when to fold. For you? It's all 'passion' and 'bonds'—charging blindly like idiots."
"Losing this game means nothing. It's still 4-5, his lead. His serve is next. Why gamble when he can win safely?"
The team flushed in collective shame. QP had nailed it.
Mouri and Yamato would've roared some热血 ("YOSHA—!") and charged.
Kaedou and Inuzuma? They'd yell about 羁绊 ("FOR THE TEAM—!") and get vaporized.
But Yoru?
No plot armor. No "power of friendship" buffs. Just cold, calculated efficiency.
---
Meanwhile, Byoudouin's mind reeled.
Why can I hear Seigaku's bench so clearly?!
The stadium was deafening, yet their voices pierced through like whispers in his skull.
Something was wrong.
BANG!
"Byoudouin Houou scores! 40-0!"
BANG!
"Byoudouin Houou scores! 4-5!"
Three straight points surrendered. The crowd's murmurs swelled.
Even Shiraishi Kuranosuke tensed. "That 'Destruction'… Is it an advanced Glowing Shot? To force even Yoru to retreat…"
He'd never felt such oppressive aura from the stands. Could his "Muga no Kyouchi" negate it?
"If it's just a powered-up Glowing Shot," Inui mused, "couldn't Yoru counter with his own 'Destruction' later?"
Silence.
No one wanted to admit it, but they ached to see Byoudouin lose.
Rokkaku's win-at-all-costs ethos had made them villains. Their recent roster poaching only deepened the disdain.
Yet hope flickered when Mitsuya Yuki spoke:
"You're forgetting—it's Yoru's serve next."
---
As if on cue, Yoru tossed the ball—
And delivered a feather-light serve.
Byoudouin lunged, only to freeze as the ball rolled backward after bouncing, never rebounding.
Zero-Shiki Serve.
"So this is that 'unreturnable' serve…"
He'd scoffed at Fuwa's scouting report. Now? It was real.
But stranger still—
Why can I hear Mitsuya's voice from the stands?!
"Yoru scores! 15-0!"
The crowd erupted. Most had never seen a no-bounce serve.
"Fascinating," murmured the European woman, chin resting on her palm. "Few can(break) this."
---
BANG!
Yoru repeated the serve.
Byoudouin sprinted to the landing spot, swinging his racket like a fan—attempting to force the ball up with wind shear.
Too late. The ball kept rolling.
"Yoru scores! 30-0!"
Yoru eyed the umpire. No foul call?
Stomping was borderline, but wind manipulation was blatant interference.
Byoudouin would likely nail the timing next try.
"Well then…"
Yoru spun the ball in his palm, lips quirking.
"I can only say sorry."
---
Next: "Destruction" vs. "Destruction" – The Ultimate Collapse!
---
read more inpat***
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