"What is that?! Why did the tennis ball stop in midair?!" The spectators all shouted in shock. Irie's black hole had truly stunned them.
But soon, deafening cheers erupted across the stadium. Even if many couldn't fully understand Irie's move, none of them cared. What mattered was that the Japan Team was now on top. They cheered without hesitation.
"Japan! Japan! Japan!"
The roar of support filled the stands, a stark contrast to how the match had begun. This was the true charm of the world of tennis—status, popularity, all of it could be seized through strength.
"By swinging the racket in advance along the incoming trajectory, he compresses space. Once the ball passes through the compressed area, it loses all forward space and freezes in midair!" Volk only needed one look to understand the principle behind the black hole.
"For someone on the Japan Team to pull this off… but this move must inflict heavy strain on the body. There's no way it can be used freely," Q.P. nodded in agreement.
"Judging from his build, he can probably sustain it for no more than twenty minutes," Volk said, glancing at the small-framed Irie.
On court, Siegfried had been shocked by Irie's return, but his mindset was no longer easily shaken. He knew exactly what he had to do in this match.
Bismarck, watching the blue particles swirling around Siegfried, couldn't help but smile. His earlier effort hadn't been in vain. Even if they were being pushed to the brink, he didn't really care about the outcome of an exhibition match.
Irie, however, looked at Siegfried with unexpected gravity. He hadn't thought his opponent would calm himself this quickly, facing his own failure head-on and shaking off the doubt.
"Looks like I underestimated them. As expected, the German team isn't so easy to deal with. No choice… I'll have to go this far," Irie muttered, frowning as if reaching a firm decision.
Siegfried and Bismarck heard his words but, after what had just happened, they didn't believe him. Both stayed fully alert.
The seventh game was Irie's service game. He walked to the baseline, took a deep breath, tossed the ball, and smashed a super high-speed serve to the far left corner.
Bismarck slid into position and countered with a sharp crosscourt shot. The angle was so precise it slipped past Atobe's reach, clearly aimed at Irie. By now, Bismarck knew he couldn't ignore him at all.
But when the ball reached Irie, another black hole appeared. The ball froze midair, and Irie swung without hesitation, sending it back to Germany's half at even greater speed.
Fully enveloped in the Light of Pride, Siegfried seemed to teleport to the net, cutting Irie's return off in an instant. With his full swing, the ball rocketed toward the baseline faster than the eye could follow.
Atobe read the ball the moment Siegfried swung, turning and sprinting to the backcourt. It looked like he was already too late. But he never slowed. Just before the ball could fly out, Irie's black hole appeared again, freezing it and giving Atobe the time he needed.
Atobe's eyes sharpened as he moved behind the ball. Dozens of ice spikes formed around Siegfried. With Atobe's return, the ball flew straight at one of the spikes. But in the next instant, every spike shattered. Siegfried easily picked the ball up again.
"Your tricks won't work anymore, Japanese!" Siegfried sneered. With the Light of Pride boosting him, his shots grew even faster.
"So it's not much different from Ten'i Muhō. Guess ore-sama thought too much," Atobe laughed and slid smoothly into the ball's path.
He'd faced Ten'i before. With his sharp vision, he could predict the ball's direction ahead of time. He'd blocked Mach Serves before—there was no way Ten'i's speed would overwhelm him.
But as soon as Atobe returned Siegfried's shot, the glow of Ten'i began to erode his spirit. In that instant, Irie also activated Ten'i Muhō, neutralizing Siegfried's radiance.
The rally turned into a direct duel between Irie and Siegfried, both in the same state. Neither could suppress the other's glow. Now, it was down to pure strength.
But Siegfried's strength fell far short of Irie's. Even while still holding back much of his power, Irie could force Siegfried into lobs.
Bismarck saw this and knew trouble was coming. He rushed forward. At that moment, Atobe leapt high, smashing the incoming ball with a powerful overhead. The ball tore toward Germany's side with a massive shockwave.
"Ice Emperor!"
The incoming blast didn't faze Bismarck. He matched the shockwave, intercepting the ball. After watching the Ice Emperor several times already, he had figured out its basic principle.
With his interception, Atobe's Ice Emperor shattered instantly. But since it was his first attempt, Bismarck couldn't control the return well. The ball soared upward again.
Atobe launched into a second jump, clearly expecting his Ice Emperor to be countered. As he swung, he twisted his wrist sharply. The ball spun violently, tearing toward the other side.
Siegfried reacted quickly, rushing to the landing spot. The ball spun on the ground for a moment before sliding forward. Having already seen this once, Siegfried lowered his racket and swept toward the sliding ball.
But just as his racket was about to touch it, the sliding ball suddenly split into two, slipping past him on both sides. The two halves rejoined near the baseline and shot out of bounds.
"15–0!"
Still in his Ten'i Muhō state, Irie wasted no time. He hurried to the baseline and served again. Empowered by Ten'i, the ball was even faster than before.
Fortunately, Bismarck was still a quasi-professional. He wasn't about to be aced so easily. Focusing sharply, he exploded forward, flashing to the landing point. The moment the ball bounced, he struck back.
But Irie had already rushed the net. Several black holes swirled around him, and Bismarck's return was immediately caught by one. In an instant, Irie was in the same one-against-two state Bismarck had endured earlier.
Atobe didn't know exactly what Irie was planning, but he still moved to support him. This way, no matter how Bismarck or Siegfried returned, the ball was intercepted by the black holes, while Irie's shots grew heavier with each swing.
After another fierce forehand, Siegfried's racket was knocked out of his hands. The Light of Pride dimmed around him. Clearly, his newly awakened ability couldn't be sustained for long.
"30–0!"
But the blue glow around Irie also began to fade. Sweat poured down his face, fogging up his glasses. His body didn't look good at all.
He ignored it, serving quickly again. But Bismarck noticed his serve speed had dropped significantly—and not only because the Light of Pride was gone.
The match fell back into another one-versus-two sequence. Black holes seemed to cover every angle, intercepting all of Germany's returns.
Atobe appeared to have guessed Irie's intent. Rarely, he didn't move in to assist. Instead, he used his positioning to harass the Germans, forcing them to split their attention rather than focus entirely on Irie.
Suddenly, Bismarck smashed a powerful down-the-line shot. The ball froze in a black hole, trembled, then forced its way forward. Irie was stunned for a moment, but the ball bounced out of bounds.
"30–15!"
'As I thought… you're about to push yourself further. But that's fine too,' Atobe glanced at Irie's worsening condition and smirked inwardly.
"The Japanese high schooler intends to finish this in one push, so he's spamming that move. But it'll speed up the damage to his body," Volk had already read Irie's plan, and in his heart, he respected the resolve.
On court, Irie knew nothing of Volk's thoughts. He continued laying out black holes, raising an impenetrable wall at the net. With the layers stacking, he finally blasted Bismarck's racket away and reached match point.
"40–15!"
Back at the baseline, Irie's hands trembled. He forced himself to toss the ball but only managed a very ordinary serve. Bismarck casually returned it.
This time, Irie didn't reach the net in time. Atobe flashed forward, intercepting the ball himself. He unleashed the Ice World, targeting Siegfried's blind spot with a sharp swing.
But Bismarck had been prepared. He stepped in before Siegfried and returned the ball. Without the Light of Pride, Siegfried couldn't conceal every blind spot.
By then, Irie had arrived at the net. The black holes reappeared, forming an iron wall of defense. The rally looked ready to drag on again—until Irie suddenly clutched his mouth. Blood spilled through his fingers as he staggered forward.
Even so, he forced one more shot back. Siegfried hadn't expected Irie, looking ready to collapse, to return the ball. Caught off guard, he lobbed it high.
The instant he hit it, Siegfried realized his mistake. He looked up in panic. As expected, Atobe rose high behind Irie, eyes locked sharply on the Germans.
"Face the end of this match! Fugue Towards Despair!" Atobe gathered all his strength into his right arm and smashed the ball down.
The shot exploded on the center line, ripping forward with unstoppable force.
Bismarck rushed to intercept, but the bounce angle defied him. A golden streak flashed before his eyes, followed by the umpire's call.
"Game! 6–1! Match over! Winner: Japan Team!"
As Irie was carried off court, Volk acknowledged his resolve. Even though it was only an exhibition, Japan had shown their determination and pride.
But Volk didn't notice the subtle looks exchanged among Japan's players. Some were troubled, some conflicted. Kirihara even had to be muzzled by Sanada, thrashing wildly under his hand.