Camus's calm, confident voice lingered in the air as he turned lightly on his heel. His steps were smooth and graceful, like a dancer spinning onstage, before he returned to the baseline.
Standing there, he lowered his head slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the tennis ball in his hand, as if it were his entire world. Taking a deep breath, he swung his arm and tossed the ball high, tracing a perfect arc through the air.
Meanwhile, Duke seemed to have entered another world altogether. His eyes were closed, but a deep, indescribable focus surrounded him. His senses sharpened to their absolute peak—he could almost perceive every shift of the wind, every vibration in the air.
As the sound of Camus's serve echoed once more, Duke moved swiftly to his left. His racket cut through the air in a flawless motion—this time, his swing didn't miss. The ball connected perfectly, launching in a beautiful curve toward Camus.
But Camus was ready. He darted to the right side of the court before the ball even crossed the net, his body leaning forward gracefully, eyes fixed intently on its path.
Before the ball could land, he intercepted it with a smooth, precise motion. His return flowed like water, seamless and elegant, drawing cheers of admiration from the crowd.
Duke reacted instantly, rushing to meet the incoming shot. His grip tightened, every muscle in his arm coiling like a spring. Then, as if releasing all his power at once, he swung hard. The ball exploded off his racket like a cannon blast, slicing through the air with terrifying destructive force straight toward Camus.
For a brief instant, Duke's eyes gleamed with fierce determination—he intended to destroy Camus's Alternate Dimension once more. Yet, Camus seemed to have foreseen it. A serene smile touched his lips as he stood his ground, entirely composed.
Just as the ball was about to strike him, Camus shifted his body slightly to the side in one fluid, almost effortless motion, evading the shot completely. The ball curved beautifully through the air before flying straight out of bounds.
Only then did Duke realize that he hadn't destroyed the love-infused energy around the ball. His expression froze—shock and confusion flashing through his eyes. Camus, however, remained smiling, as though everything had gone exactly as he'd planned.
"Out! 30–0!"
But that was only the prelude. Camus had already grasped Duke's rhythm completely. Every time Duke tried to unleash his destructive power, Camus could sense it a heartbeat before it came.
Though he occasionally sacrificed a point, his precise timing and awareness allowed him to regain full control over the pace of the match. Camus moved like a seasoned conductor, guiding every note of the game's rhythm, forcing it to flow according to his will.
"30–15!"
"40–15!"
"40–30!"
"Game! France! 1–1!"
Each of Camus's points drew loud cheers from the stands. With this, he held his serve without allowing Duke to shatter his Alternate Dimension again. It was clear now—Camus had seized the upper hand.
"So things really are playing out the way I expected," Mitsuya said, adjusting his glasses as a serious expression crossed his face.
"No... Duke's not done yet. That guy's planning something," Tanegashima replied quietly, his tone steady but sharp. He knew Duke well enough to understand—someone like him wouldn't fall so easily.
As the third game began, a heavy tension filled the court. Duke stood at the baseline, the phantom of the Destruction Demon God behind him trembling violently. Its massive form swelled, growing layer upon layer, each expansion radiating an even more crushing aura until the very air seemed to freeze.
Duke inhaled deeply, then tossed the ball high. The moment it reached its peak, he swung his racket down with all his might. The resulting sound thundered across the court—like lightning splitting the sky. The impact was so powerful it seemed to tear the air apart. Duke had poured every ounce of strength into that serve; in that instant, his momentum reached its absolute peak.
Thick smoke and energy flared around him, pulsing with raw, terrifying power. The tennis ball, infused with that strength, became a black shockwave, tearing forward with unstoppable force toward Camus's half. It cut through the air like a blade forged from pure darkness, radiating destruction itself.
Camus's expression hardened slightly. He raised his racket, summoning the radiant energy of love to defend himself—but when the ball connected, the violent tremor that ran up his arm made him freeze for an instant. The sheer force behind it far exceeded his expectations, leaving a flicker of hesitation in his heart.
Just as Camus hesitated for a brief moment, the black shockwave crashed into the ground with a deafening roar. The ball streaked past him like black lightning and vanished out of bounds in an instant.
"Ace! 15–0!"
"Love alone can't block that one?" Camus murmured softly.
"But if I use my Alternate Dimension, it'll be destroyed instantly... you've really given me a tough problem, Duke," he said with a deep gaze, eyes locked onto his opponent as if searching for the key to break through.
Duke, however, didn't revel in his point. Without a hint of complacency, he reached for another ball from the basket, tossed it high, and swung again. His focus never wavered—his sharp eyes burned with unshakable determination as he poured every ounce of strength into the serve.
The sharp crack of impact echoed through the stadium, and another black shockwave burst from his racket, surging straight toward Camus. Watching it rush in, Camus felt a wave of helplessness rise inside him. He knew he couldn't stop this one either. All he could do was watch as the ball flashed past him once again and flew cleanly out of bounds.
"Ace! 30–0!"
"Ace! 40–0!"
The umpire's voice echoed repeatedly through the air. Duke had claimed three consecutive service points. When he unleashed his final serve, the court fell silent. Everyone held their breath, eyes fixed on the ball.
When the black shockwave struck Camus's court again, the silence shattered into thunderous cheers. Duke had taken the game with overwhelming dominance.
"Game! Japan! 2–1!"
During the short changeover, Camus sat on the French bench, brows furrowed, deep in thought as he tried to figure out how to counter Duke's serves. Duke, meanwhile, continued to build his aura.
The destructive energy within him grew thicker, heavier. His very presence pressed down on everyone around him. Even Byoudouin felt the weight of it. Only Akashi's expression remained calm and unreadable.
The break ended, and both players returned to the court. Camus stood behind the baseline, drawing a slow, deep breath, ready to expand his Alternate Dimension once more.
As he swung, the rose-filled field bloomed across his side of the court. Duke tried to destroy it again and again, but each time, Camus cleverly deflected his assaults, as though every one of Duke's attacks was already part of his plan.
"Game! France! 2–2!"
The match soon settled into a stalemate—each man defending his own service game without giving an inch. Neither could break through the other's serve.
On the Japan bench, Byoudouin's lips curved into a faint smirk. His sharp gaze pierced through the court, as though he could already see where this match was heading.
"Game! Japan! 3–2! Switch sides!"
"Game! France! 3–3!"
"Game! France! 5–5!"
As time went on, their scores rose alternately. Neither yielded. It looked like the set would go to a tiebreak—but matches like this never follow expectations.
When the eleventh game began, it was Duke's serve again. Gathering all his built-up power, he unleashed four consecutive destructive shockwaves. Camus couldn't return a single one. Yet, strangely, his expression had shifted from frustration to calm acceptance, as if he had embraced something deeper.
But Duke knew better—Camus wasn't the type to give up. That eerie calm was only the sign of something brewing. Duke tightened his focus, not daring to relax for a second.
"Game! Japan! 6–5!"
When the short break ended, Camus slowly returned to the baseline. A strange aura surrounded him—unnatural, dissonant, and heavy. Akashi's eyes had been fixed on him for some time now.
'If that power inside him really takes form, Duke-senpai is in danger…' Akashi thought to himself, his golden eyes narrowing slightly.
On court, the two clashed again. This time, Duke didn't seem at a disadvantage—he even blasted a homerun to take the first point.
"0–15!"
But what happened next was bizarre. Camus didn't dodge Duke's destructive homerun this time. His Alternate Dimension shattered instantly, though he managed to protect his racket using the power of love.
"0–30!"
"0–40!"
'What are you planning, Leopold…?' Duke frowned, staring across the net as Camus prepared to serve.
Camus tossed the ball high and served sharply. Duke didn't think any further—he moved on instinct, flashing to the landing point and hammering the ball back.
Even though Camus still couldn't use his Alternate Dimension, his play suddenly turned far more aggressive, his shots sharper and bolder than before.
Then, just as Duke unleashed another destructive homerun, an immense surge of energy burst from Camus's body. His Alternate Dimension expanded in an instant, covering the entire court. Behind him, two massive roses intertwined, blooming together in radiant brilliance.
"Alternate Dimension—Twin Blossoms!"
"Thank you, fate, for giving me this chance to play against you, Duke! This new power will make my path of revolution even clearer!" Camus shouted, his voice filled with passion, arms spread wide as the black tennis ball streaked past him.
"Game! 7–5! Second set complete! Winner: Japan! Total score, 1–1! The final deciding set will begin shortly!"