hud!
Thud!
Thud!
The sound of intense rallies echoed across the court.
But despite the fierce exchanges, only one person was losing points—Ralph.
No matter how Ralph adjusted his shots, Yoru dismantled his defenses with ease.
Before anyone realized it, the score had widened.
2-0!
3-0!
4-0!
In less than ten minutes, Yoru had secured a four-game lead.
There were no flashy techniques, no dramatic plays—just pure, relentless baseline dominance.
The sheer gap in fundamentals and raw stats left Ralph scrambling.
But even Ryoma, perched in the umpire's chair, noticed something strange.
As the match progressed, the rallies were getting longer.
Yoru wasn't holding back—Ralph was adapting.
He was steadily refining his weaknesses in real time.
Haaah…
Ralph took a deep breath, wiping sweat from his brow.
He was thrilled—yet frustrated.
Thrilled because he could feel himself improving.
Frustrated because his stamina was draining at an alarming rate.
Yoru's pressure was suffocating. Every shot demanded Ralph's absolute focus, burning through his energy reserves at an unsustainable pace.
Fifth game. Yoru's serve.
Yoru glanced at Ralph's positioning and smirked. "You look tired, Reinhard."
"Just serve already," Ralph shot back, scowling.
With a chuckle, Yoru tossed the ball skyward and swung.
CRACK!
A heavy topspin serve ripped across the court, kicking sharply at the corner.
High-speed spin serve.
The ball's rebound would be faster and more erratic than usual—a tactic Yoru had used all match to keep Ralph on the defensive.
Tap-tap-tap!
Ralph's footsteps were a rapid staccato as he sprinted to intercept.
At the peak of the bounce, he lashed out with a sharp-angle drive!
The ball streaked toward the far sideline—
Only for Yoru to already be waiting at the net, his racket tilting for a delicate drop shot!
"Tch—!"
Ralph lunged forward, barely flicking the ball back with a desperate lob.
Bad move.
A lob against Yoru? That was just begging for a smash—
—Except Yoru didn't smash.
Instead, he sent another slow, heavy topspin deep to the baseline.
"…Trying to grind me down, huh?" Ralph panted, eyes narrowing. "Classic Nan."
But then—his grip tightened.
"But this is my chance!"
For four straight games, Yoru's shots had been too fast, too precise to counter.
But this one?
The spin was vicious, but the pace was manageable.
Ralph's gaze locked onto the farthest corner of the court—the one spot Yoru couldn't cover in time.
CRACK!
His racket whipped through the air, the impact sending a visible shockwave through the court dust.
The ball warped mid-flight, bullet-toward the sideline—
—then kicked outward, rocketing toward the fence!
"Whoa—!"
"Holy crap, he's finally scoring?!"
"That angle! No way anyone reaches that!"
The crowd erupted. After four games of one-sided brutality, they were starving for drama.
And yet—
Yoru didn't move.
He stood at the center mark, watching as the ball screamed toward the exit.
"…Giving up?"
"Smart. No point wasting energy when he's already up big."
"Yeah, better to save stamina for—"
—Then the air crackled.
Bzzzt…
A faint, electric hum filled the court as the ball—mid-flight—suddenly hooked backward!
Like a fish yanked by an invisible line, it curved violently back toward Yoru's waiting racket.
The crowd froze.
A few seasoned spectators gasped.
"No way…"
"That's—!"
"A Territory?!"
Territory.
Ever since Yoru had guided Ryoma into experimenting with the technique—eventually mastering it at Level 3—he himself had refined it to Level 5.
And even at that stage, it was already his strongest weapon.
With Yoru's stats and fundamentals, even a mid-tier Territory was enough to ensnare Ralph completely.
THOOM!
The "unreturnable" shot was effortlessly crushed into the opposite corner.
Ralph could only sigh. "You bastard. You mentioned it once, but I didn't think you'd mastered it this well."
Yoru grinned. "Had to leave you with a proper goodbye gift."
Ralph exhaled, equal parts awed and exasperated.
Every time he thought he was closing the gap, Yoru pulled ahead even further.
The feeling was… humbling.
"So this is your real strength, huh?"
The rest of the match was a formality.
With Territory fully unleashed, Ralph's stamina evaporated under the relentless pressure.
5-0.
6-0.
Three minutes later, it was over.
As the final score was called, Ralph stood motionless, staring at his racket.
It wasn't the loss that stung—he'd lost to Yoru before.
It was the realization that the distance between them had just exploded.