51-55

Chapter 51: The Zone Appears—Tezuka’s Complete Victory Over Sanada  

THWACK!  

"Damn it… He had the chance!"  

Another return shot, another grimace from Sanada.  

For nearly two uninterrupted minutes of rallying, Tezuka had countless opportunities to end the point with Zero-Shiki Drop or an inside angle drive—yet he deliberately placed every return just within Sanada’s desperate reach.  

If this were a battle between equals, grinding down stamina might make sense.  

But Tezuka wasn’t struggling. He had clear, easy ways to score—yet chose the hardest path. To Sanada, it could only mean one thing:  

He’s toying with me.  

THWACK!  

Another return from Tezuka, this one landing slightly farther away.  

"You bastard—are you looking down on me?!"  

Sanada’s roar echoed across the court, startling both the audience and Tezuka.  

Veins bulged on his forehead, his eyes burning with fury. "Are. You. Looking. Down. On. Me?!"  

The same question, spat out a second time.  

Tezuka blinked, uncomprehending.  

"Is that kid insane?" 

"He’s only lost one game so far…" 

"Didn’t he just score earlier?" 

"Kids these days have such short tempers…"  

The crowd murmured in confusion. From the scoreline alone, there was no glaring gap between the two.  

Yoru, however, smirked. "If you don’t know Tezuka, this would feel infuriating."  

Kirihara shrugged beside him. "I felt the same way yesterday. But once you understand, it’s different."  

"What do you mean?" Yamato frowned.  

"Sanada thinks he’s being humiliated." 

"Humiliated?" 

"Mm. Tezuka already revealed his inside angle control and Zero-Shiki Drop." 

"In a rally like that, he had dozens of chances to score with either—but held back. If you were Sanada, what would you think?"  

"I’d be furious."  

The instant Yamato answered, he understood.  

Because they knew what Tezuka was planning, the match’s flow made sense.  

But to an outsider? It looked like arrogance. Like mockery.  

In reality—Tezuka was laying the groundwork for the Zone.  

Kirihara grinned, watching Sanada’s seething figure. "He’ll realize soon enough… Tezuka isn’t toying with him."  

He’s breaking him.  

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!  

On the court, Tezuka remained unfazed, maintaining his rhythm despite Sanada’s outburst.  

"Wait…"  

Yukimura’s eyes narrowed. Something had felt off earlier, but now—  

As Tezuka’s movement radius shrank further, a horrifying realization struck.  

"Sanada! WATCH OUT—IT’S THE ZONE!"  

THWACK!  

Sanada seized an opening, unleashing Swifter Than the Wind at a sharp cross-court angle—  

Yet Tezuka didn’t move.  

He glanced at the ball’s trajectory… and stayed rooted.  

"What—?!"  

Yukimura’s blood ran cold. It’s really that technique…!  

Even pro players struggled to master it!  

Before Sanada could react—  

A massive vortex erupted across the court, centered on Tezuka.  

The ball, moments from flying out of bounds, was wrenched back mid-air as if caught in a whirlpool.  

Tezuka Zone.  

Sanada’s mind blanked.  

Now he understood—Tezuka hadn’t been mocking him.  

The Zone required setup. Precise control, relentless data-gathering, and psychological manipulation to steer an opponent’s returns.  

Once activated?  

It was a death sentence.  

SWOOSH!  

The ball spiraled into Tezuka’s strike zone.  

A brutal forehand lashed out, targeting the farthest corner from Sanada.  

"Tch—!"  

Sanada scrambled, barely returning it—  

Only for Tezuka to fire it even wider.  

Again.  

And again.  

Tezuka didn’t rush to end the point.  

The Zone was torture—forcing the opponent to exhaust themselves chasing hopeless returns while the user conserved energy.  

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!  

After a grueling rally, Sanada’s legs gave out. He collapsed, watching helplessly as the ball sailed past.  

"Tezuka Kunimitsu scores! 40–15!"  

Despair coiled in Sanada’s chest.  

He tried "Ferocity of the Forest" next—a technique designed to dissipate spin, one he’d envisioned as part of his "Wind, Fire, Forest, Mountain" arsenal.  

In the original timeline, Yanagi Renji would later call it "the ultimate spin-negator."  

But the Zone wasn’t just spin.  

It was prediction.  

Unless Sanada countered with perfect reverse spin, the ball would only fly straighter into Tezuka’s grasp.  

The score climbed mercilessly.  

"Tezuka Kunimitsu scores! Game, 2–0!" 

"Tezuka Kunimitsu scores! Game, 3–0!" 

... 

"Tezuka Kunimitsu scores! Game, 5–0!"  

The first two games had taken ten minutes.  

The next three? Less than five.  

Sanada’s condition deteriorated—drenched in sweat, breath ragged, errors multiplying.  

THWACK!  

"Tezuka Kunimitsu scores! Game and set, 6–0!"  

As the final return hit the net, Sanada dropped to his knees, eyes hollow.  

"Why… How…?"  

His voice was a whisper, sweat dripping from his chin.  

Before this match, he’d been dreaming of facing Yukimura in the finals. Tezuka hadn’t even been a blip on his radar.  

"Next time, warm up properly before a match."  

A cool voice cut through his daze.  

Sanada looked up.  

Tezuka stood at the net, hand extended. His forehead was barely damp, his expression unreadable—as if this victory meant nothing.  

And that—more than anything—ignited Sanada’s rage.  

In that moment, Tezuka’s image seared into his mind like a nightmare.  

He’d lost before. To Yukimura. But never like this.  

This was humiliation. Body and spirit crushed.  

"Damn it… DAMN IT!"  

Sanada’s vision swam red, his cap long discarded, veins throbbing at his temples.  

When no response came, Tezuka retracted his hand and turned away.  

At the same time—  

A chime echoed in Yoru’s mind.  

[Ding!...] 

Chapter 52: Skill Evolution Card; Schneider’s Arrival  

[Ding! You have watched the match between Sanada Genichirou and Tezuka Kunimitsu. Completion of serendipity quest confirmed. Reward obtained: Skill Evolution Card x1!]  

[Skill Evolution Card]: Can be used on any tennis technique. The skill’s level will rise to match the user’s base level and evolve into a new form, with the new form’s strength tied to the original skill’s rank. (Note: Cannot be used on basic skills, Five Dimensions, or state-based techniques.)  

"So it evolves a specific technique?"  

"First, pull up my stats."  

A virtual panel materialized before him.  

[Host]: Yoru 

[Age]: 12 

[Techniques]:  

• Personal Five Dimensions (Lv. 8)  

• Tennis Fundamentals (Lv. 8)  

• Twist Serve (Lv. 8)  

• Two-Handed Style (Lv. 8)  

• Split-Step (Lv. 8)  

• Zone (Lv. 5)  

• Muga no Kyouchi (Lv. 7)  

• Pinnacle of Hard Work (Lv. 3)  

• Near-Ace Drive (Lv. 8) 

[Combat Power]: 9 Stars 

[Talents]: Ten Senses Control, Perfect Copy  

Since the card couldn’t be used on basics, Five Dimensions, or state skills, his options narrowed down to Twist Serve, Zone, and Near-Ace Drive. Techniques like Two-Handed Style were instantly dismissed.  

Without hesitation, Yoru commanded: "Use the Evolution Card on Zone."  

[Congratulations! Your Zone has been upgraded to Lv. 8!] 

[Congratulations! You have comprehended Reverse Zone (Lv. 8)!]  

"Reverse Zone, huh?"  

A flicker of surprise crossed Yoru’s eyes.  

Reverse Zone functioned identically to Tezuka’s future Tezuka Phantom—applying 60% more spin than the standard Zone to forcibly eject the ball out of bounds. Of course, this required predicting the opponent’s return and countering with opposing rotation.  

With this, his strength had just ascended another tier.  

"Tezuka, how’d the match feel?"  

Yamato’s voice snapped Yoru back to reality.  

Tezuka had just stepped off the court, and Yamato handed him a drink with a grin.  

"Sanada was strong. Far superior to previous opponents," Tezuka acknowledged with a nod.  

"As long as you enjoyed it. One more match, and you’ll clinch the championship!" Kirihara chimed in, buzzing as if he were the one about to win.  

Yoru, however, fell into thought.  

In the original timeline, Yukimura Seiichi had won the JR. Nationals—but his duel with Tezuka occurred after the tournament. By that logic, Tezuka shouldn’t have played the finals.  

What could’ve stopped him?  

The answer arrived swiftly.  

"Excuse me, Tezuka Kunimitsu? May we have a word?"  

A heavily accented Japanese sentence cut through their conversation.  

The group turned to see two figures approaching—one lean, one rotund, their foreign features unmistakable. Yoru’s eyes narrowed.  

These were the German scouts who’d been observing Tezuka, clad in the insignia of Germany’s Elite Tennis Academy.  

The lean one was unfamiliar, but the portly man?  

That’s Schneider.  

One-half of Germany’s pro doubles lineup in the series—the Akimichi-clan lookalike of the tennis world.  

"I am Tezuka Kunimitsu. How may I assist you?" Tezuka replied, polite but guarded.  

The slender man smiled. "I’m Harro Adler, a coach at Germany’s Elite Tennis Academy. We’ve watched your matches and would like to invite you for a trial training session."  

"If you pass, you’ll gain direct entry into our pro development program, with the German Tennis Association endorsing your path to becoming a professional."  

(Author’s Note: Consolidated lore here—Tezuka wasn’t directly scouted in canon. Even during U-17, he only went for trials, initially struggled, and was only retained after Borg [Burg] witnessed his Zone.)  

Silence.  

Except for Yoru, the other three were stunned.  

The Elite Tennis Academy needed no introduction. It was a global powerhouse, a cradle of champions. Germany’s national team—currently on an eight-year winning streak—was almost entirely composed of its alumni.  

"A trial... in Germany?"  

For the first time, Tezuka’s icy composure wavered.  

"Indeed." Adler produced an embossed letter. "If interested, you may depart with us in a week. How does that sound?"  

His confidence was unshakable. No one refused the Academy. It was a golden ticket—even failures could stay on as well-paid sparring partners.  

"This is..."  

Tezuka accepted the letter, his breathing uneven. But at his age, flying across the world seemed... rash.  

"Is Germany’s Elite Academy truly that impressive?"  

Yoru’s sudden interjection drew Adler’s frown.  

Was this backwater really questioning their prestige?  

"Senpai?" Tezuka blinked.  

Yoru pressed on. "A hub of geniuses. Realistically, how much resources would they allocate to you now? At your age, would your family even approve?"  

"If you were older, perhaps. But as things stand, it’s premature."  

His words doused Tezuka’s fervor.  

Yesterday’s crushing defeat by Kirihara had been a wake-up call. If a single older player could dismantle him, how would he fare in a nation of prodigies?  

"You seem to doubt our academy’s caliber," the hitherto silent Schneider finally rumbled in English.  

"I’m Dankmar Schneider, 15. Graduate of the Elite Academy, currently in pro training. I’ve cleared the preliminary pro licensing trials."  

Fifteen. Pro-bound.  

Yamato’s jaw dropped. Kirihara, who barely understood English, just scratched his head.  

"Since you’re carrying a racket," Schneider smirked, hefting his bag, "if you distrust our standards... shall we settle this on the court?"  

Chapter 53: Yoru vs. Schneider  

"What did he just say?"  

Kirihara blinked in confusion.  

Yamato, having recovered from his own shock, translated Schneider's words—and within seconds, Kirihara's expression mirrored his captain's: utter disbelief.  

The sheer weight of Schneider's background was enough to make him question his life choices.  

Same age.  

Kirihara hadn’t even made it to nationals in a tennis backwater like Japan, while this guy was already in the pipeline to go pro.  

"C-Captain… maybe you should apologize?"  

Kirihara shrunk back slightly, glancing at Yoru.  

As much as he respected Yoru, going toe-to-toe with a future pro was a different league entirely.  

This wasn’t just a gap in skill—it was a dimensional divide.  

The idea of facing someone like Schneider had never even crossed his mind.  

"He’s not a pro yet."  

Yoru rolled his eyes before turning to Schneider. "Fine, let’s play a set. Show me what a ‘genius’ from Germany’s elite club can do."  

At the same time, Schneider’s stats materialized in Yoru’s vision:  

[Name]: Dankmar Schneider 

[Age]: 15 

[Techniques]:  

• Base Stats (Lv. 7)  

• Tennis Fundamentals (Lv. 7)  

• Ultra-Wide Defense (Lv. 7)  

• Cage Counter (Lv. 7) 

[Talent]: Giant’s Aura 

[Power Level]: 7 Stars 

[Giant’s Aura]: When activated, drastically boosts speed, power, and defensive range.  

An insane stat sheet.  

Though Kirihara was also a 7-star, in a real match, he’d never break through Schneider’s defense.  

Speed-based players had one fatal flaw: stamina drain. The longer the rally, the higher their error rate.  

And Kirihara’s current strength?  

It was entirely thanks to Yoru’s training—plus the boost from his sigil.  

Yet even then, he barely scraped the lower-middle tier of 7-star players.  

The higher the star rating, the wider the gaps became.  

The jump from 6 to 7 was already a chasm—but the difference between 7-stars could be colossal.  

Worse, Schneider at full power could temporarily hit 8-star levels.  

Kirihara? Not a chance.  

In the original timeline, Schneider and Ralph both turned pro. While singles/doubles specialization played a role, very few in the Prince of Tennis universe made it to the pro circuit as frauds.  

If not for Yoru’s relentless training, Ralph’s star rating would’ve barely matched Schneider’s.  

"Well, if you insist."  

Harold Adler, Schneider’s coach, sighed theatrically—though his smirk betrayed his amusement.  

No one insulted his club without consequences.  

Yoru glanced at Tezuka. "You’ll referee. Watch closely—this’ll be good for you."  

Tezuka stiffened slightly, then nodded.  

Truthfully, he’d always been curious about Yoru’s true strength.  

After yesterday’s crushing loss to Kirihara, Yamato had offhandedly mentioned "Kirihara can’t even score against the captain."  

The revelation left Tezuka equal parts terrified and fascinated.  

No time for chatter.  

The group scoured the JR Tournament grounds for an open court—only to find none.  

Eventually, they settled for a street court outside the venue.  

Schneider stripped off his jacket, warming up meticulously.  

Yoru?  

He just strolled onto the court, racket in hand—zero warm-up.  

Tezuka’s brow furrowed from the referee’s chair.  

This was exactly how Sanada acted before I crushed him.  

"Don’t mind it," Yamato whispered awkwardly. "The captain never warms up. It’s not arrogance—just habit."  

Schneider paid no attention.  

At an elite club, every prodigy had quirks. Eccentricities were normal.  

"Guess I’ve cost Tezuka his finals spot."  

Yoru checked his watch.  

Less than ten minutes until the final. No way they’d make it back in time.  

Tezuka seemed unbothered.  

Likely, he’d never cared about the JR title—not after the disappointments he’d faced these past two days. Even Sanada, the best of the lot, couldn’t take a single point off him.  

"Done warming up? Heads or tails?"  

As Schneider finished stretching, Yoru spun his racket on the ground.  

Fluent German.  

Schneider blinked, momentarily thrown—but recovered fast. "You serve. This won’t take long."  

"My thoughts exactly."  

Yoru didn’t argue, heading to the baseline.  

"One-set match! First game—Yoru’s serve!"  

As predicted, Tezuka didn’t care about the JR title.  

Watching this match would teach him far more.  

THWACK!  

Yoru bounced the ball once, twice—calibrating.  

Schneider’s stats painted a clear picture: elite defender, weak offense.  

In other words—a doubles specialist. The kind who anchored the backcourt.  

SWISH!  

Yoru tossed the ball higher than usual, his racket arm pulling back further—  

CRACK!  

A crisp, clean strike.  

The ball vanished mid-air, reappearing at the service line with brutal spin.  

"Too fast!" 

"That rotation—!"  

Schneider’s instincts kicked in.  

Elite club training. Even if he’d underestimated Yoru, he never let his guard down.  

He lunged forward, opting for a volley—the best counter to spin.  

But he’d misjudged the bounce.  

THUD!  

The ball rocketed upward—straight at his face—at nearly the same speed as the serve.  

"What—?!"  

Schneider’s eyes widened—  

But his body moved before his mind could panic.  

A sharp head tilt.  

The ball grazed his cheek, shearing off a few strands of hair as it screamed into the sky.  

**"A Twist Serve…"**  

Tezuka’s breath hitched.  

The Twist Serve was famous worldwide—any decent player could learn it.  

But this?  

The speed, angle, and hang time defied everything Tezuka knew about the technique.  

Yet—  

Schneider wasn’t done.  

In one fluid motion, he dodged, then leaped—  

Unreal agility for someone his size.  

BAM!  

His racket intercepted the ball mid-air—  

But the impact sent a shockwave up his arm.  

**"This weight…!"**  

Schneider’s stomach dropped.  

No amateur packed this much power.  

Yoru had perfectly blended speed, spin, and raw force into a single serve—proof of flawless fundamentals.  

His return was weak, floating helplessly over the net.  

"Too bad."  

A shadow blurred at the net.  

Schneider barely registered Yoru’s smirk before the ball screamed past him.  

"Hope you can keep me entertained."  

The words lingered in the air like a challenge. 

Chapter 54: So What If He's a Semi-Pro?  

Thwack!  

The impact echoed from the sideline as the ball ricocheted out of bounds, smacking against the chain-link fence.  

"That’s... a near-ace drive."  

Tezuka’s eyes narrowed.  

Yoru’s execution was flawless—superior in angle, placement, speed, and power control compared to his own.  

"Yoru scores, 15-0!"  

A premonition struck Tezuka: This match might shatter everything I thought I knew about middle school tennis.  

"This kid..."  

On the sidelines, German coach Harro Adler frowned. Though not a head instructor at the Elite Academy, his observational skills were razor-sharp. In just a few exchanges, Yoru had displayed prowess rivaling their top talents.  

A smirk crept onto Adler’s face. Decision made.  

Bang!  

Yoru served again—another near-ace, this time faster, sharper, deadlier.  

Yet Schneider, with his pro-level defensive instincts, read it perfectly. His racket intercepted with clinical precision.  

Thud! Thud! Thud!  

The rally escalated into a blistering exchange, neither yielding an inch. The ball barely touched the ground.  

"Damn, that fatso’s agile! His sheer size expands his defensive range!" Kirihara muttered, unnerved.  

Had he been on court, maintaining this pace would’ve been feasible—but Yoru’s returns weren’t just fast; they carried brutal weight. Schneider had already switched from one-handed blocks to two-handed counters.  

"This sensation..."  

From the umpire’s chair, Tezuka recognized it instantly.  

So did Schneider.  

With a grunt, the German twisted mid-swing, redirecting the ball cross-court—  

—only for the ball to curve mid-air, veering straight toward Yoru’s waiting racket.  

Zone.  

Schneider’s stomach dropped.  

Adler’s jaw tightened. Another Zone user? In this backwater?  

Crack!  

As Yoru’s return landed, the Zone fully manifested. Against a defensive wall like Schneider, it was the ultimate counter: Let him exhaust himself while I conserve energy.  

"To think... you’ve mastered Zone too."  

Schneider’s jowls quivered. He’d already adjusted his assessment of Yoru upward—yet still underestimated him. Zone hard-countered his attrition-based playstyle. In doubles, he could rely on a partner. In singles? Disaster.  

Thwack!  

He returned, only to freeze mid-follow-through.  

A milky-white aura now wreathed Yoru’s arm.  

"...Pinnacle of Hard Work?!"  

Germany’s analysts had dissected Nanjiroh’s Three Doors of Muga. Schneider knew this technique intimately.  

Yoru smirked. "Sorry—I prefer opening with a royal flush."  

Against a turtle like Schneider? Time to go all out.  

BOOM!  

The next strike detonated like a cannon.  

Doubled power. Doubled spin. Combined with Yoru’s 8-tier Five Dimensions, the ball became a golden streak, obliterating Schneider’s defensive formation.  

"Yoru scores, 30-0!"  

Tezuka’s breath hitched.  

Same combo—Zone + Pinnacle—yet Yoru’s version dwarfed his own. With an 8-tier Zone and superior stats, the gap was ludicrous.  

"Still lacking finishing moves."  

Yoru scowled. Against typical 7-star opponents, raw stats sufficed. But Schneider’s "Iron Fortress Defense" and "Umbrella Counter" demanded efficiency.  

Not that he couldn’t win through attrition—but where was the fun in that?  

"A wasteland like this... breeding such monsters?"  

Adler’s earlier confidence wavered.  

"Buchou’s... stronger than before?" Kirihara paled.  

The gap hadn’t narrowed. Yoru hadn’t been holding back in their match—he’d been playing with his food.  

Thud. Thud. Thud.  

Yoru bounced the ball, cold eyes locked onto Schneider. "Stop hiding your tricks. Best-of-one leaves no time for games, ‘pro.’"  

The last word stung.  

Schneider stayed silent. Excuses were worthless now.  

Facing Yoru felt like facing Borg—the pressure, the inevitability. No point holding back.  

His eyelids slid shut.  

BANG!  

A serve ripped forth. Even a basic flat strike, amplified by Pinnacle, carried destructive force.  

The ball landed, kicked—  

"Point!" Yamato blurted.  

It was flying out! Schneider hadn’t moved!  

Then—  

Whoosh.  

Schneider’s eyes snapped open.  

A colossal aura erupted, his silhouette expanding grotesquely in the spectators’ vision.  

"You’ve gotta be kidding—!"  

Yamato and Kirihara recoiled. Even Tezuka’s composure cracked. The match had spiraled into the realm of absurdity.  

"Tch."  

Yoru yawned.  

The phantom enlargement was underwhelming—nowhere near Schneider’s World Cup-level "Goliath Form", which could blot out half the court.  

Swish!  

The "giant" took two strides, covering impossible ground to intercept.  

To Yoru, though? Just enhanced footwork.  

Thwack!  

The return came—  

—only to be swallowed by a whirlpool materializing the instant it crossed the net.  

Tezuka’s pupils shrank.  

"How?! He formed Zone... right after serving?!"  

Chapter 55: Yoru: “Tezuka, watch me show off!” 

Even though once a Domain is successfully formed, it can usually be activated again within two or three rallies during subsequent matches… 

It still takes two to three rallies! 

Due to the limitations of serving and the predictability of the first return shot, trying to establish a Domain during a serve or first return is nearly impossible. 

Glancing at Tezuka’s expression out of the corner of his eye, Yoru said calmly, “Don’t be surprised. Once your five stats completely crush your opponent, this becomes possible.” 

He spoke in Japanese, so Schneider didn’t understand. Not that he had the time to react anyway—Yoru’s racquet had already struck the ball. 

Smack! 

A thunderous sound echoed through the court. 

The moment the tennis ball left the racquet, it vanished from sight, tearing through the court and kicking up dust as it shot toward Schneider with terrifying power. 

Yoru was going for a direct assault, intending to shatter Schneider’s defense head-on. 

Seeing the incoming ball, Schneider’s expression shifted. He swung his racquet forcefully at the incoming shot. 

A visible tornado of spin enveloped his racquet—his signature move: Tornado Counter. 

This technique amplified the power and spin of his opponent’s shot and sent it back, while simultaneously enhancing his own resistance to impact. Its mechanics were similar to Tezuka’s Zero Shiki Drop Shot, but used in reverse. 

“So, you want to go head-to-head with me?” 

Yoru sneered and struck again, doubling the return’s power. 

Boom! Boom! Boom! 

Each rally increased the ball’s density and pressure. Even spectators in the stands could feel the ground trembling. 

Gulp… 

Tezuka swallowed hard. 

What he was witnessing had clearly surpassed his understanding of tennis. 

Just imagining himself on the court— he would've likely been pushed to match point already. 

“Tough guy, huh?” 

“No wonder he’s got the turtle-shell defense type. In that case… I’ll go a bit harder.” 

Yoru’s arm muscles bulged slightly, and the white mist surrounding his arm thickened. 

Boom! 

With a thunderous strike, the ball distorted into an irregular oval— infused with the force of his Thousand-Forged Strike. 

In a flash, the tennis ball pierced through the court, detonating in front of Schneider. 

“What?!” 

The ball was so fast that Schneider didn’t have time to reposition. All he could do was raise his racquet to block in front of his chest. 

BOOM! 

From Mugitani and the others’ perspective in the stands, a beam of light smashed into Schneider’s large belly, sending him stumbling backward before collapsing. 

From Yoru’s perspective, Schneider’s racquet couldn’t absorb the impact. His fingers involuntarily released it, and he was struck head-on. 

That massive body of his was blasted completely out of bounds. 

“Impossible…” 

Harold Adler was visibly shaken. 

Schneider’s ironclad defense had just been broken through directly. Only Borg had ever managed such a feat! 

Among Germany’s next-gen elites, Schneider was known as their best defender, yet now—he was utterly crushed by someone nobody had even heard of. 

And it was a clean, head-on defeat. 

Harold felt like he was dreaming, desperate to deny what he'd just seen. 

Mugitani and Yamato had their mouths wide open in shock. Even Tezuka forgot to call the score. 

“Why… why did the power suddenly increase so much…” 

Struggling to his feet, Schneider looked across the court in disbelief. 

Yoru replied coolly, “I fought you using Domain and Thousand-Forged not because I had to— but because I wanted to.” 

“Even without those two techniques, just my base stats alone would’ve overwhelmed you. Now that I’m bored, and you’ve got nothing new to show… let’s wrap this up.” 

The following rallies backed up Yoru’s words completely. 

His returns and serves shattered Schneider’s defense every time. 

With max-level 8 stats and max-level 8 base skills, his Thousand-Forged shots had reached the power level of mid-tier 9-star players. 

Schneider, even at his best, was barely brushing the 8-star threshold—he had no chance. 

The score quickly skyrocketed. 

“Point for Yoru! Score: 2–0!” “Point for Yoru! Score: 4–0!” “Point for Yoru! Score: 5–0!” 

... 

Five games, twenty rallies. 

Schneider, a player who had already passed the pro-level assessment, was completely crushed—utterly dominated from start to finish. 

“Huff… huff…” 

Gasping for air, sweat dripping from his chin, Schneider’s body was bruised and battered, purple welts covering his flabby physique. 

His lifelong pride—shattered in a single match. 

The last person to do that to him… was his own teammate, Borg. 

He had believed no one else in the world could break him the same way— but in terms of efficiency, Yoru was even more brutal than Borg. 

“I’m supposed to be a future pro… how could this happen…” 

Watching Schneider half-kneeling on the court, Yoru said coldly, 

“You're a doubles player, right? Singles may not be your strength, but you’re also ignoring a crucial fact.” 

Hearing this, Schneider raised his head, gasping too hard to respond. 

“Getting registered as a pro doesn’t mean your strength is on par with actual pros. It just means your club and country gave you preferential access.” 

“If I remember correctly, the full pro registration process takes at least two years.” 

“Don’t get cocky.” 

In the Prince of Tennis world, becoming a pro wasn't as simple as in the real world. Besides personal strength, you needed a recommendation from an ITF-certified organization. Solo registration was nearly impossible. 

By Schneider’s age, he wasn’t bad. 

But he still didn’t meet the minimum bar to survive in the pro circuit—not even in doubles. 

This match was a message for Tezuka. 

Yoru couldn’t accept that someone he had his eyes on had been taken by the German team. So, he wanted to tear down the honor they stood for— to show Tezuka that the German Elite Club was not the best option. 

Yoru had a plan. 

The National Tournament was just a stepping stone. His true target was the World Championships—and Tezuka was his future teammate! 

With that thought, he turned to Tezuka and said, 

“Watch these next four rallies carefully. This is another way to use Domain.” 

Another way to use Domain? Tezuka looked puzzled. 

What other application could there be? 

“You don’t need to keep kneeling either,” Yoru said to Schneider. “You’ll have plenty of chances to kneel later. Go serve from the baseline.” 

Schneider’s face twisted in anger and humiliation, but the situation was what it was. Besides venting his frustration, there wasn’t much else he could do. 

Still, he was determined to finish the match— even if he was going to be shut out. 

If he had to lose, he’d lose on his feet. 

With steely resolve, Schneider pushed himself up and trudged toward the baseline. 

Yoru watched with disdain. 

A loss is a loss. Standing or kneeling, it’s still the same. 

The Prince of Tennis original story was full of “glorious defeats,” but to Yoru, those were just jokes. Losing with flair was still losing—and just made it even more embarrassing. 

“Hm?” 

Just as Schneider was about to serve, he noticed that the mist around Yoru’s arm had vanished. 

Could it be… he’s finally out of energy? 

This might be a chance! 

Taking a deep breath, Schneider tossed the ball and served. 

Though the serve was weaker than at the start, with the Chrysanthemum Aura active, it was still decent. 

Yoru predicted its path and moved into position— swiping his racquet to return the ball. 

The shot flew across the court, spinning with a unique twist. 

Thud thud thud! 

Schneider’s heavy footsteps echoed as he rushed toward the ball. 

Yoru’s return wasn’t fast, so Schneider had time to plan his response— maybe even score a point. 

Just as his racquet was about to meet the ball… 

Yoru’s voice rang out across the court: 

“Tezuka, remember this—Domain can also be used as a finishing move!” 

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