"Atobe actually returned the Mach Serve! Even though it didn't clear the net, that's still a good start!" Mukahi shouted happily from the stands.
"No, Gakuto! Look closely at the speed meter," Oshitari replied with a heavy expression.
"Huh? 279 kilometers… how?! Ochi-senpai's Mach Serve is supposed to be over 290 kilometers!" Mukahi stared at the reading in shock.
"This is bad. Atobe, he might…" Yukimura's smile faded as he spoke seriously.
"Oh my, Ochi's being really ruthless this time~" Irie's eyes flashed with a sharp glint, his tone oddly amused from the other side of the stands.
"Is this a trial for his own junior?" Tanegashima shook his head, a trace of pity in his gaze toward Atobe.
On court, Atobe slowly stood, his eyes falling on the speed meter. His face darkened instantly. He glared straight at Ochi and roared:
"What's the meaning of this!!! You looking down on ore-sama?!"
Ochi didn't answer. He only gave Atobe a cold glance, and in that instant, a faint crescent moon shimmered in Atobe's pupils. Then Ochi turned and walked back to the bench with Mōri.
"You actually used real Mental Assassination on Atobe? That's not like you, Ochi brat!" Mifune called out as he watched them return.
"So that last ball was on purpose, Tsukimitsu-san!" Mōri exclaimed, shocked enough to address him with respect.
"I only added some fuel to his evolution. Whether he rises from the fire, or disappears forever—that depends on him," Ochi replied coldly.
Meanwhile, Atobe returned to the bench looking utterly displeased. He had thought he broke through just now, but it turned out that bastard had held back. Even Sanada's expression looked strange.
Akashi's gaze sharpened as he watched Atobe. He had already seen through the problem, but he didn't say anything at first. He wanted to see if Atobe himself would realize.
When Ochi served the last ball, he had clearly noticed Atobe evolving, so he intentionally lowered the serve speed to give him reaction time. Then, when Atobe thought he had finally broken through and returned the Mach Serve, he realized he'd been played.
Finally, when Atobe turned to challenge him, Ochi used his mental force to shatter Atobe's defenses and shake his confidence to the core. That was Ochi Moonlight's true Mental Assassination, the foundation of his strength in the world.
As the former Japan No. 4, Ochi was undeniably world-class. But unlike Byoudouin and Oni, he had no beyond-dimensional techniques. He relied only on a return-to-basics serve and perfectly timed pressure to utterly destroy his opponent's confidence.
Now, Atobe and Sanada sat on the bench gulping down water. Both were drenched in sweat, uniforms soaked through. This amount of sweating was far from normal. Through the entire first set, Ochi had magnified their inner pressure to the extreme.
As the rest time neared its end, Akashi looked at Atobe and finally spoke:
"Atobe! In your current state, you'll definitely lose the second set too!"
"Hah? What nonsense are you spouting, Akashi! Ore-sama's evolution is advancing at lightning speed. In the second set, I'll definitely break through Mach Serve!" Atobe snapped back irritably.
"Are you really confident?" Akashi's eyes bore into him coldly, his voice flat.
Atobe froze. He should have shouted without hesitation that he had confidence. But why couldn't he say it? Why was he hesitating? Seeing his silence, Sanada's expression grew grave as he turned to him.
"Your confidence is wavering. Your pride is crumbling. Haven't you realized the problem yet, Atobe?" Akashi's tone suddenly cut sharp like a blade.
Atobe fell silent. The crescent moon in his eyes deepened. He finally sensed his own abnormality. After thinking for a moment, he slowly spoke:
"Tch~ Mental Assassination, huh? For ore-sama to be humiliated like this… it's infuriating!"
"Atobe…" Sanada started to speak, but Atobe cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"Mind yourself first, Sanada! You've been hit by Mental Assassination plenty too! Ore-sama's ability to adjust is far beyond yours!" Atobe spat defiantly, though the pressure in his chest only grew heavier.
The second set began quickly. Atobe served first. His expression dark, he stepped to the baseline, grabbed a ball, shoved aside his chaotic thoughts, tossed it high, and snapped his wrist as he smashed down hard.
"Tannhauser Serve!"
The ball spun fiercely toward the other side but clipped the net instead. Sanada immediately frowned at the front, while Atobe cursed in frustration.
"Fault! Second serve!"
"As expected, it's begun! What now, Atobe?" Irie narrowed his eyes as he watched.
Atobe steadied himself and tossed again. This time he didn't use Tannhauser, opting for a super high-speed serve. But the result was the same—the ball slammed into the net, giving away the point.
"Double fault! 0-15!"
"Atobe! Don't let your own thoughts distract you!" Sanada barked sternly over his shoulder.
Atobe gave no reply. He was already trapped in his own mental spiral. The more he told himself to stay calm, the more a flood of thoughts crashed into his mind.
"Double fault! 0-30!"
"Double fault! 0-40!"
"Game! Japan Team! 1-0!"
"That was far too careless, Atobe! From here, I'll handle the match myself. You, wake yourself up on the sidelines!" Sanada snapped after they dropped the game.
"You've got to be kidding!!! Ore-sama won't be shaken by some petty Mental Assassination!" Atobe growled, swinging his racket with a snarl.
Game two. Mōri's serve. Standing at the baseline with eyes closed, soft snores slipped from his nose—he had entered his Sleep Mode. With Atobe in this state, he didn't even need to worry about Atobe Kingdom.
Mōri blasted out a super high-speed serve. Even affected by Mental Assassination, Atobe's core attributes remained. He darted to the bounce point and lashed his racket hard.
The ball cleared the net, but the shot was noticeably weaker. Too focused on avoiding mistakes, his return lacked quality. Mōri intercepted easily and shot a sharp crosscourt.
"I told you, from here on I'll take over! Stay where you are, Atobe!" Sanada's voice cut in as Atobe prepared to strike.
Sanada's Shura aura erupted full force. He flashed past Atobe, black energy swirling like a vortex around him. His right arm lashed forward, racket slashing through the air.
The ball streaked across wrapped in black light. Sanada's arm blurred, shadows layering into indistinguishable strikes.
"Black Dragon Fourfold Slash!"
As the ball crossed the net, Mōri's eyes snapped open. His violet gaze pierced through the technique before he shut them again, body chasing on instinct. Ignoring the first and second refractions, he caught up on the third bounce and swung—
But just before impact, the ball refracted a fourth time. Even Ochi behind him hadn't expected it. The ball struck the sideline and flew out.
"0-15!"
"Even without your cooperation, Atobe, I can still cover every angle!" Sanada declared firmly after scoring.