At the center of the court, Camus's sharp eyes glimmered with light. He gently rubbed his right wrist, as if confirming the lingering force within. The corner of his lips lifted slightly as he muttered under his breath, "So, you were still hiding a move? Impressive."
He then turned gracefully, stepped out of the baseline, and bent down to pick up the ball that had fallen to the ground. When he gripped it, it was as if he held a blade capable of cutting through fate itself.
Because the Alternate Dimension had just been shattered, waves of residual energy still rippled through the air. Camus took a deep breath, steadied his stance, and prepared to serve again. This time, he chose a standard high-speed serve.
Yet the moment his racket swung, his body erupted once more with brilliant light. That radiance shone in the shape of a glowing heart, bright and mesmerizing, spreading warmth and mystery across the court.
At the same time, a special wave of power entwined itself around the tennis ball—like invisible silk threads weaving together the energies of love and destruction.
As the dual-powered ball shot toward Duke, admiration rose in his heart. He knew that when it came to natural talent in tennis, Camus might truly be far beyond him. But that didn't mean he would admit defeat.
Duke dashed to the landing point, his movements sharp and explosive. The Demon God's shadow behind him grew clearer, its enormous hands swinging forward and shattering the space ahead. When Duke's racket clashed with the ball, both love and destruction were completely nullified under the Demon God's strike.
Then Duke twisted his body and swung backhanded. The ball was instantly enveloped in destructive power, radiating an oppressive aura. It roared across the court like a thunderbolt—its sheer force seemed capable of tearing the air apart. When it came to manipulating destructive power, Duke clearly outclassed Camus by far.
But Camus wouldn't just stand there and take it. Even without the use of his Alternate Dimension, his professional-level skill was no illusion. In the next instant, a huge heart-shaped light streaked through the sky like a meteor, forming before him in a dazzling shield of brilliance.
The radiance shone intensely, as though filled with boundless energy. The ball crashed against it repeatedly, and with every collision, Duke's destructive power weakened.
Camus gripped his racket tightly, his gaze unwavering. Using the heart's glow as cover, he prepared to intercept. By the time he swung, the destructive energy had nearly vanished, devoured by that radiant shield.
Even so, the violent vibration shook his entire arm. His right hand trembled uncontrollably as the ball's raw power pounded against his racket. Gritting his teeth, Camus mustered every ounce of strength to return the shot—but his right arm alone wasn't enough.
At the last second, he brought his left hand up, gripping the racket with both hands. With that extra force, he barely managed to send the ball back. It flew high, tracing a graceful arc through the air before soaring upward.
Camus's eyes sharpened as he tracked the ball's climb. He knew this rally wasn't over yet. And just as he expected, Duke's massive figure suddenly appeared near the net. With a mighty leap, his right arm raised high, racket poised as if to pierce the heavens themselves.
Even more terrifying—the Demon God behind him mimicked the same motion. The colossal shadow towered like a being from the depths of hell, radiating an aura that made every spectator's skin crawl.
A booming sound ripped through the stadium as Duke smashed the ball down like a cannon shell. Camus instinctively moved forward—but before he could react, his racket pulsed faintly in his hand, almost as if warning him. He froze, realizing that this shot couldn't be stopped. The ball streaked past him like a golden meteor.
It slammed into the ground with explosive force, raising a cloud of dust before bouncing straight out of bounds. Camus stood still, his eyes calm, making no attempt to chase it.
"0–30!"
Duke didn't pause for a second. He knew this was his moment to strike, to press his advantage while Camus's Alternate Dimension was still sealed. If he could widen the score gap now, it would be his best chance to turn the match around. Once Camus regained his Dimension, the situation would reverse instantly.
Every one of Duke's swings came down like thunder. The sound of his strikes echoed through the court like cannon fire, shaking the air itself. Spectators could hardly believe what they were seeing—if not for the net and rackets, they might have thought they were watching a battlefield instead of a tennis match. Each hit between racket and ball resounded with sheer, awe-inspiring power.
On the opposite baseline, Camus remained composed. He fully understood Duke's intent. Using his power of love and precise technique, he tried to buy enough time to restore his Alternate Dimension. He knew the moment he recovered it, the balance of the match would flip completely.
Back and forth they went—each rally fierce, every strike brimming with force and control. Neither man yielded. Every point mattered. The audience was silent, eyes wide, afraid to blink and miss even a second.
"0–40!"
"15–40!"
"Game! Japan! 2–2!"
Unfortunately, without his Alternate Dimension, Camus was still at a disadvantage and quickly lost his service game. Yet his expression showed no trace of frustration or regret—he remained as calm and composed as ever.
When Duke stepped to the baseline to serve, he was stunned to see the faint outline of twin roses reappearing behind Camus. He couldn't believe his eyes—he had completely destroyed Camus's Alternate Dimension just moments ago.
"What's wrong? Surprised by how fast I recovered?" Camus smiled faintly, clearly noticing Duke's expression.
Although Camus's Alternate Dimension had been shattered, his power of Creation wasn't heavily dependent on it. Using that ability, he reconstructed his Dimension in an unbelievably short time.
Duke sighed quietly, a wave of helplessness washing over him. But instead of hesitating, he tossed the ball high. A thunderous shockwave exploded from his serve like a roaring storm, shaking the entire court. Behind Camus, the twin roses bloomed once more, their light merging and gathering over his racket in a shimmering layer of energy.
Camus stepped swiftly into position. His right hand swung decisively, striking the ball with force—and in the next instant, the ball vanished from sight like a bubble bursting into air.
Duke's pupils shrank sharply. His leg muscles tensed, ready to spring the moment the ball reappeared so he could counter with his explosive reflexes. But the ball materialized suddenly at the baseline with no warning, giving him no chance to react.
"0–15!"
With his Alternate Dimension restored and Creation active again, Duke was completely forced onto the defensive. Against Camus's unpredictable power and unorthodox swing rhythm, he couldn't make an effective return. The ball appeared from impossible angles again and again, slipping past his reach every time.
"0–30!"
"0–40!"
"Game! France! 3–2! Change sides!"
The match seemed decided. In the stands, Zeus's gaze deepened like an endless abyss. He looked upon Camus and Duke with divine stillness, as though seeing not the present moment, but the inevitable future outcome of their match.
As he spoke, a faint golden light began to radiate from Zeus's body, like the first rays of dawn—warm, brilliant, and commanding. The glow made him appear both majestic and sacred, as if a god from ancient myth had stepped back into the mortal world.
"It's a pity," Hermes said softly beside him, shaking his head. "No matter how hard they fight, France still can't escape elimination." His eyes drifted toward the Japan bench, focusing on Akashi.
At that same moment, Akashi sighed inwardly. He could already see how things would end. Duke wasn't weak—his strength wasn't far behind Camus's—but the French player's foundation and depth of ability were overwhelming, suppressing Duke completely.
The rest of the Japan team stayed silent as they watched Duke lower his head and drink from his bottle. They all knew how dire the situation was, but no one would say it out loud. Until the very end, none of them would give up—and they knew Duke felt the same.
The break ended quickly, and both players returned to the court. But the situation remained unchanged. Duke still couldn't break through Camus's Creation, and the points kept slipping away.
"Game! France! 4–2!"
"Game! France! 5–2!"
"Game! Japan! 5–3!"
In another intense rally, Duke seized an opening and managed once again to shatter Camus's Alternate Dimension. But everyone watching knew—it was only a brief reprieve. With Camus's Creation, recovery was only a matter of time.
Yet this time, something was different. Camus's restoration wasn't as fast as before. As the ninth game began, his Alternate Dimension still hadn't returned. Meanwhile, the Demon God's shadow behind Duke grew taller and fiercer, as if it could pierce the heavens themselves.
"Game! Japan! 5–4!"
Fueled by that overwhelming aura of destruction, Duke secured the ninth game. But his condition looked grim—his breathing was ragged, his body drenched in sweat, puddles forming at his feet.
Camus, though also sweating, was in far better shape. More importantly, his Alternate Dimension had returned once again. Behind him, the twin rose phantom reappeared, the crimson petals glowing like an omen of inevitable victory.
Seeing this, Duke gave a bitter smile. Then, gathering what strength remained in his body, he fixed his eyes firmly on Camus. But the ending didn't change.
When the ball suddenly reappeared near the net, Duke's expression faltered. He shut his eyes in exhaustion and despair, accepting what was to come.
"Game! 6–4! Match over! Final score 2–1! Winner—France!"