As the match went on, even Dodo began to feel the strain. It was a doubles match, after all—no matter how strong he was, it was impossible to both cover for Max and completely defend against the Stephanopoulos brothers' Execution Law Tennis.
On the sidelines, Reinhardt and the other American players looked grim. They already knew the Greek team's middle school pair played an extremely violent style, but none of them expected it to go this far.
"Ralph..." Hopkins muttered quietly as he stepped beside Reinhardt.
"Still can't reach Ryōga-boy? Today's match is crucial. Where the hell did he go?" Kiko frowned. Seeing the tension on both men's faces, he could already guess the answer.
"Maybe… Ryōga's already made his choice," Reinhardt said in a low, heavy tone.
None of them noticed that in the corner of the stands, Ryōga and Nanjirō were watching the match together. What shocked everyone who saw them was Ryōga's outfit—he was wearing the Spain national uniform. He had already joined the Spanish team.
"Watching your former teammates get beaten like this—what do you think, boy?" Nanjirō asked with a teasing smile, dressed in monk robes as always.
"What do you expect me to think, old man? No matter who wins today, they'll be our opponents later," Ryōga replied casually, though his true feelings were known only to himself.
"Hmph, never honest, are you? Fine, you stay here and watch Ryōma's match. I'm heading over to see Japan's game. This year's World Cup's gonna surprise a lot of people," Nanjirō said, stretching lazily before turning to leave.
Ryōga watched him go, then chuckled softly. "Little runt… I hope you can make it past Greece. I'm looking forward to the day we face each other on court."
——————
"Hahahahahahaha! Do you feel it now? The despair of being crucified? Execution Method Number Ten—St. Andrew's Cross!" Toono screamed, wildly swinging his racket like he was reenacting some gruesome punishment.
"Get up, brat! It's not over yet! Execution Method Number Nine—Quartering!" His eyes widened, voice filled with sadistic glee that sent chills down everyone's spine.
"Yes, that's the reaction I want! Execution Method Number Eleven—Iron Maiden!" A piercing scream echoed through the massive arena, blending into the madness that Toono was creating.
Byoudouin sat on the bench, the corner of his eye twitching, his jaw tight with barely restrained anger. Oni beside him was already seething, veins bulging at his temple as if he could explode any second.
Kimijima stood on the court, yet he hadn't had a single chance to hit the ball. Though his footwork matched Toono's, the latter's stats were now all enhanced by his special state—something like Kirihara's Devil Mode, but without the physical drawbacks.
From the bench, Kirihara himself watched with unease. His own Devil Mode made him lose control too, but Toono's madness was on a completely different level—it was terrifying.
"Game! Japan! 3–0!"
The referee's call echoed through the arena, finally breaking the frenzy.
Then, unable to endure it any longer, the referee issued a stern warning:
"Japan team player, control your behavior immediately!"
But Toono didn't seem to hear. He raised his racket, clearly intending to attack the referee. Kimijima reacted instantly, grabbing and dragging him off court before things got worse.
Even on the bench, Toono's face remained flushed red, his eyes still burning with ferocity. Coach Mifune looked at him with a heavy heart.
"Snap out of it, brat!" Mifune roared, trying to jolt him back to reason.
"Hah? You wanna be executed too?" Toono snarled back, his tone laced with killing intent.
At that moment, Akashi suddenly stepped forward. An overwhelming wave of mental force burst from him, towering like a mountain. A faint silver light shimmered across his body, and his Emperor Eye turned perfectly flawless.
The instant their eyes met, Toono froze completely. His body stiffened, his mind trapped by sheer pressure—an awe that shook his soul.
"Mental Pressure!"
Deep within Toono's consciousness, a pair of massive Emperor Eyes emerged from the void, radiating an overwhelming, godlike pressure that seemed capable of suppressing all creation. Within moments, Toono Atsukyō's once-violent and chaotic mind began to clear, the madness slowly fading away.
On the Japan team bench, Toono suddenly gasped for air, his chest heaving as sweat poured down his forehead. The crimson light in his eyes dimmed until it was gone.
Akashi, seeing this, quietly withdrew his mental pressure. Without saying a word, he turned and walked back to the players' area, as if nothing had happened. Toono watched Akashi's retreating figure, his expression a tangle of emotions.
"After this match, you're heading straight to the medical logistics unit!" Coach Mifune's voice cut sharply across the bench. His tone carried no room for argument.
Though Toono looked displeased, he no longer had the courage to protest. He accepted the punishment silently. Deep down, he knew how dangerously close his outburst had come to jeopardizing the match.
Kimijima let out a quiet sigh of relief beside him. For a moment, he had genuinely thought Toono was done for—Mifune-sensei's legendary temper from his youth was enough to make anyone tremble.
The timeout ended soon after Toono's meltdown. When both sides returned to the court, Toono's expression was visibly calmer. He was no longer the deranged maniac from before. Still, the Swiss pair across the net couldn't hide their fear.
The fourth game began with Campbell's serve. Just standing on the baseline made him tremble. The memory of the previous pain haunted him, yet he couldn't afford to give up—not when the pride and honor of Swiss tennis were on the line.
With trembling hands, Campbell tossed the ball and served, but the quality was poor. Toono snorted disdainfully, dashed to the landing spot, and whipped his racket forward in one swift motion.
The ball sliced across the court at incredible speed, flying straight past Campbell and toward the baseline. A simple baseline passing shot—but completely unexpected.
Fortunately, Campbell reacted in time, lunging sideways to intercept. When his racket connected and sent the ball back, disbelief flickered in his eyes. His opponent hadn't gone for another brutal attack.
"Still… as calm as the surface of water," Kimijima murmured as he moved to the net, blocking the ball with a gentle touch. The ball lost almost all its force, dropping softly toward the ground.
Cape didn't have time to think—he rushed forward desperately and managed to scoop the ball up before it bounced. But then Kimijima's quiet voice rang out again.
"Still… as solid as castle walls."
Taking one step to the right, Kimijima swung his racket again. The ball shot sharply toward Switzerland's left sideline. In the next instant, Campbell appeared right in its path.
Though the two Swiss players were minor figures, they weren't weaklings—being selected for Switzerland's U-17 and representing middle schoolers already spoke to their ability. Blocking Kimijima's ordinary crosscourt shot shouldn't have been impossible.
Campbell met the ball squarely, sending it back into Japan's half. But the next moment, terror struck both Swiss players. Toono suddenly appeared from behind Kimijima, his racket already in motion.
"Heh, letting your guard down so soon? Execution Method Number Six—Cement Shoes!" Toono sneered as he unleashed his shot.
The ball spun violently as it flew, a blur of twisting motion. Cape gritted his teeth and swung to meet it head-on, knowing Campbell's condition was even worse than his own. But the moment the ball struck his racket, an unnatural heaviness crushed down on his arms—as if he'd hit solid concrete instead of a tennis ball.
Before he could react, the wildly spinning ball veered inward, slamming straight into his chest. The impact sent Cape sprawling backward.
"0–15!"
The referee called the score but frowned deeply. He'd thought the Japan player had calmed down, but clearly, that wasn't the case. Perhaps it was time to consider a penalty.
But then Cape got up, rubbing his chest. The excruciating pain he expected didn't come—only a dull ache, far lighter than before.
Seeing him relatively unhurt, both Campbell and the referee froze. Had Toono… held back on purpose?