The bottom of the third inning.
Ichidai San High School Baseball Team was on offense.
The scoreboard clearly displayed the score—
5:0.
Despite trailing by five runs, Ichidai San showed no signs of discouragement.
There was no panic.
No collapse.
When their seventh batter stepped into the batter's box, his posture alone sent a clear message.
He wanted a head-on confrontation with Zhou Hao.
Even though everyone—including himself—knew the odds were stacked hopelessly against him.
Even though no one truly believed he could win.
Still—
He stood tall.
Fearless.
As if declaring to everyone present that he would either defeat Zhou Hao—
Or, at the very least, grind him down.
The players in Seido's dugout immediately understood their opponent's intention.
And the moment they realized it—
Anger surged in their chests.
"They don't seriously think Amahisa alone can turn this around, do they?"
No one in Seido believed that.
But judging from Ichidai San's expressions and body language—
That was exactly what they thought.
Chris narrowed his eyes, his voice calm but sharp.
"They're drowning," he said.
"And they've grabbed onto a piece of driftwood."
"Whether that driftwood is sturdy enough—
Whether it can actually save them—"
"They won't let go."
Once they did, they'd sink for good.
The Ichidai San players weren't fools.
As long as they still had something—anything—to cling to,
They would fight to the very end.
"As expected of our biggest rivals," someone muttered.
"They really aren't easy to deal with."
"They're a national powerhouse, just like us," another added.
"If they collapsed this easily, that would be ridiculous."
Opinions varied throughout the Seido dugout.
But on one thing—
Everyone was united.
No matter what Ichidai San was planning—
They would not succeed.
Because standing on the mound—
Was Seido High School Baseball Team's Ace.
As long as he was there,
Any problem could be handled.
This belief ran deep through Seido's entire roster.
Unshakable.
"I just wonder…"
someone said softly.
"What pitch Zhou Hao plans to use?"
The Spiral Ball was devastating—its effect immediate and absolute.
From the bottom of their hearts, Seido's players wanted to see it again.
But reality demanded restraint.
The Spiral Ball placed a heavy burden on stamina.
They were already leading by five runs.
Winning this game was practically assured.
Was it really worth expending that much energy here?
The answer seemed obvious.
No.
This was the Spring Tournament.
Even if Seido already held a seeded position, they still had semifinals and finals ahead.
If they reached the finals, they would advance to the Kanto Tournament.
If they won—
They would secure a favorable grouping.
And that grouping could very well determine whether they could win the entire Kanto Tournament.
As a national powerhouse, Seido's perspective was fundamentally different from that of ordinary teams.
For most teams, simply reaching Kanto and performing respectably would be a triumph.
But for Seido—
That was never enough.
Even at the highest regional level, stumbling was unacceptable.
They were destined to stand at the top.
Anything less than ultimate victory—
Was failure.
This was the weight carried by a national powerhouse.
They couldn't lose in official games.
They couldn't lose in practice games either.
Every loss meant becoming a stepping stone for someone else.
And that—
Was something Seido High School Baseball Team would never accept.
So they had to win.
Not just today—
But every game.
Win continuously.
And eventually—
Create an era that belonged solely to them.
As the team's Ace, Zhou Hao bore a responsibility far heavier than most could imagine.
Even his teammates weren't entirely sure—
What choice he would make now.
They could only watch as the man on the mound set his stance—
And released the baseball from his hand.
In the stands.
Sawamura Eijun suddenly muttered under his breath.
"Not… the Spiral Ball."
Haruichi Kominato, seated beside him, leaned over immediately.
"Sawamura?"
"What did you say?"
Before the question could be answered—
The pitch was already on its way.
Boom!
The instant the ball left Zhou Hao's hand, it seized everyone's attention.
It was fast.
Incredibly fast.
And although its velocity was comparable to the Spiral Ball—
This pitch felt different.
Cleaner.
Sharper.
Decisive.
There was no wasted motion.
By the time people truly registered it—
The baseball had already torn through the strike zone.
The seventh batter stared as the ball flew toward him.
Based on the footage they had studied beforehand—
He immediately realized something.
This isn't the Spiral Ball.
The moment that conclusion formed—
He exhaled sharply.
Relief flooded his chest.
No matter how proud they were, Ichidai San's players knew the truth.
They couldn't hit the Spiral Ball.
Even their cleanup hitter had failed.
Whenever Zhou Hao used it—
All they could do was stand there helplessly and watch it pass.
At best, they'd make a symbolic swing on the final pitch—
Just to save face.
But they were elite players.
Chosen talents.
How could they tolerate such humiliation?
That frustration had been burning in their hearts—
Waiting for a chance to explode.
And now—
That chance had arrived.
For reasons unknown—
Seido's Ace had stopped using the Spiral Ball.
The seventh batter didn't feel insulted.
Didn't feel looked down upon.
What he felt—
Was exhilaration.
Excitement surged through his veins.
This is it.
My chance.
Zhou Hao's Spiral Ball was invincible—
But that didn't mean his other pitches were weak.
To face him, Ichidai San's batters had deliberately chosen larger bats.
That choice carried meaning.
Even if Zhou Hao's Straight Ball had movement, as long as they could touch it, they could force the ball out.
Now!
The Seventh Batter's mind was already filled with the image of the baseball being blasted away cleanly.
He could almost see it—
The crack of the bat.
The roar of the crowd.
Zhou Hao's expression finally changing.
His hands tightened around the bat, his eyes locked onto the incoming pitch.
But just as he was about to seize what he believed was his chance—
A flash of white streaked across his vision.
What… was that?
Before the thought could even form—
Snap!
The sharp sound of the baseball entering the glove echoed behind him.
Miyuki Kazuya curled his lips slightly.
The home plate umpire raised his hand.
"Strike!"
The Seventh Batter stood frozen.
His mind went completely blank.
What just happened?
He hadn't even seen the ball clearly.
Even though Zhou Hao hadn't thrown the Spiral Ball—
The scene before him was no different from what his teammates had experienced earlier.
Standing stiffly in the batter's box.
Eyes empty.
Like an idiot who hadn't even realized the pitch had passed.
The Seido supporters in the stands, of course, seized the moment.
"Did you see that? He still thought he could hit it!"
"He's just as stunned as the ones before him!"
"What choice does he have? His opponent is Zhou Hao!"
"154 km/h straight—like a Shinkansen! It's gone before you can blink!"
"He's totally dumbfounded!"
They weren't exaggerating.
At this very moment, the Ichidai San batter was indeed dumbfounded.
He stood there motionless, eyes filled with disbelief.
Zhou Hao hadn't used the Spiral Ball.
He should have had a chance.
So why—
Why couldn't he even touch the ball?
Slowly, the batter lifted his head and looked at the electronic scoreboard.
A single number stood out clearly.
154
The meaning was unmistakable.
Zhou Hao's Straight Ball—
154 km/h.
Ichidai San's players knew exactly what that represented.
Perhaps only their two core sluggers could barely make contact with a pitch like that.
As for the rest—
Even the so-called geniuses—
It was nearly impossible.
The Seventh Batter let out a bitter laugh.
At this moment, a realization struck him.
Zhou Hao wasn't holding back.
Using the Spiral Ball against them…
Was unnecessary.
This terrifying Straight Ball alone was enough to make them feel helpless.
To be honest—
Zhou Hao's Straight Ball was just as invincible.
In the Ichidai San dugout, silence spread.
Lips were pressed tight.
This situation was far beyond what they had anticipated.
They already knew how overwhelming the Spiral Ball was.
So when they couldn't hit it, they accepted it.
But now—
Even Zhou Hao's Straight Ball left them powerless.
If that was the case—
How was this game supposed to continue?
With pitching like this, Zhou Hao simply wasn't someone they could contend with.
"Don't give up."
Coach Tahara's gaze swept across his players, sharp and unwavering.
"The moment you give up—this game ends."
He understood better than anyone how dire the situation was.
But precisely because it was so dire—
They couldn't afford to give up.
No matter how terrifying Zhou Hao appeared—
As long as they endured, they still had a chance.
A chance to stand on equal footing.
A chance to fight back.
But if they surrendered in their hearts—
Then today's match would end far earlier than anyone expected.
The Seventh Batter seemed to feel his coach's expectations.
He clenched his teeth.
He refused to give in.
Yet Zhou Hao's pitching offered nothing but despair.
The second pitch came.
He still couldn't see it.
Not "couldn't hit"—
He couldn't even see it.
The baseball tore through the strike zone.
Snap!
"Strike!"
The third pitch followed immediately.
Snap!
"Strike!!"
"Strikeout!!"
One out.
No runners.
The Seido supporters erupted.
Zhou Hao's Spiral Ball being invincible was one thing—
But now even his Straight Ball was untouchable.
How could they not be thrilled?
Their Ace—
Their idol—
At this moment, Zhou Hao felt complete.
He had already been incredible last year.
But now—
He was clearly on another level.
"Zhou Hao!"
"Zhou Hao!!!"
Arms rose into the air.
Voices overlapped.
The entire stadium surged with excitement.
To them, Zhou Hao had become a symbol of absolute security.
As long as he stood on the mound—
They never had to worry about losing.
The Eighth Batter stepped in.
Then the Ninth.
Their outcomes were no different.
Snap!
"Strike!"
"Strike!!"
"Strike!!!"
"Strikeout!"
"Strikeout!!"
Three batters.
Three strikeouts.
Three outs.
Side retired.
The game entered the middle innings, the score still frozen at—
5:0.
And Seido's offense was about to begin again.
The players and supporters of Ichidai San could only stare at the scoreboard in silence.
Shock.
Disbelief.
And a deep, creeping sense of helplessness.