Ren sat slumped on the cold bench, sweat chilling into his skin. His chest still rose and fell in ragged bursts, each breath scraping his throat raw. The Sacred Court had emptied, but the echoes of laughter lingered like ghosts.
One rally. That's all I stole. And it cost me everything...
The HUD flickered. Letters bled across his vision, unstable.
[Recalculating... Substitution Protocol...]
[Hidden Metric Revealed: Panic Threshold — Opponent: 23]
Ren jerked upright. "What... is that?" His voice rasped against the empty glass.
Above where his opponent had stood, a faint red number pulsed, then vanished.
Panic threshold...? Why am I seeing this? No one else reacted.
The words dissolved, leaving only the steady glow of his quest. But the silence felt heavier now, the weight of something watching him from beyond the glass.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor. A figure stepped into view—sharp eyes, hair tied back neatly, racket tucked under his arm like a blade sheathed.
Toru Minase.
Ren had seen him once at the academy, always observing, always calculating. Tonight his gaze was colder, sharper.
"That copy you pulled," Toru said softly. "It wasn't luck."
Ren's stomach twisted. "...I don't know what you're talking about."
Toru smirked. "Then prove it. Local Tournament. One week. No coach interference. No excuses."
He dropped a folded paper onto the bench beside Ren—a duel slip stamped with the tournament crest.
"Let's see if the Substitute Messiah can survive when the game is played for real."
Ren stared at the slip, fingers trembling. His HUD pulsed once more, new quest line burning across his vision:
[Quest Updated: Enter Local Tournament]
[Objective: Find a Partner.]
Shizuka's face flickered in his mind—her sharp commands, her cold warning. Don't die before the qualifier.
His grip tightened on the paper. His body still shook from exhaustion, but somewhere beneath the fatigue, a spark lit.
If I'm just a substitute... then I'll fight until they can't look away.
Padel Knowledge Break #4 — Scoring & Tie-breaks
Padel borrows scoring from tennis: 15–30–40–game. But here's the twist—since rallies are fast and walls keep the ball alive, games move like lightning. One break of serve feels massive. When both pairs hit 6–6, a tie-break decides it: first to 7 points, win by 2. In real courts, tie-breaks create electric drama. In Aurelia's glass stadiums, tie-breaks feel like judgment from the gods.