At the plate, Ichidai's eighth batter seethed.
Why me?
Zhou Hao hadn't gone this hard against their cleanup slugger—yet against him, a no-name near the bottom of the order, the Seidō ace unleashed everything.
A clean straight ball at 145 km/h. Against an eighth batter? It was nothing short of cruelty.
But with two strikes already against him, pride was all he had left.
Fine. If I'm going down, I'm swinging with everything I've got.
If he connected—even once—it would be worth it.
"Whiz!!"
The pitch screamed in. The batter's body reacted, muscles straining, bat cutting air.
But the ball had already blown past. His swing hadn't even reached halfway.
"Faster…?" His eyes went wide. It wasn't just overpowering—it was unreal.
Smack!!
"Strike!! Struck out!!"
One out. Bases empty.
Seidō's fans hardly blinked. For them, the strikeout was expected. What they cared about was the speed reading.
The scoreboard flickered—
147 km/h.
The stadium shook with cheers.
Three straight pitches, all in the mid-140s. This wasn't a fluke. This was a transformation.
"Fastest in West Tokyo!"
"No—fastest in all of Tokyo!"
It didn't matter how Zhou Hao's slender frame could generate such heat. To Seidō's supporters, only one thing mattered: their ace had just become untouchable.
For Ichidai, though, it was a nightmare.
They had seen Zhou Hao pitch against Inashiro. He was strong then, but not like this. To grow so much in only a few days… it was beyond reason.
And now, right before their eyes, his power was still climbing. Pitch by pitch, inning by inning, Zhou Hao was evolving into something unrecognizable.
The Coach's face was grim. His players whispered the same question in unison:
What kind of monster are we facing?
The ninth batter was ordered to "observe." No swinging, just watch.
But Zhou Hao's fastball wasn't just quicker—it had sharper late life, darting at the end like it had a mind of its own.
The poor batter's eyes widened with each pitch, confusion and panic twisting across his face. By the third ball, he froze entirely, forgetting to swing.
Smack!!
"Strike! No swing—struck out!!"
For a starter on a powerhouse team, going down without lifting the bat was humiliation close to surrender. Ichidai's dugout sagged under the weight of it.
Two outs. Bases empty.
Ichidai's leadoff man, Akita, stepped in. He was no pushover. His stance radiated determination, bat raised high, gaze locked on Zhou Hao.
But Zhou Hao only felt pity.
Even before the upgrade, Akita's odds of connecting were slim. One in five at best. And now, with a 147 km/h Level 3 straight ball dancing at the end? His chances had collapsed to barely one in a hundred.
My upgrade's too fast, Zhou Hao thought coldly. They simply can't keep up.
Even if they had adapted to his old fastball, it no longer mattered. That pitch no longer existed.
"Boom!!"
The ball shot forward, cutting through the air like a blade.
Akita swung with all his might—
And missed.
Smack!!
"Strike!!"
Another pitch. Another miss.
And then—
"Strike!!! Struck out!!!"
Three up, three down. Ichidai had been dismantled.
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