"Bang!!!"
A loud crash echoed through the stadium. A moment later, crimson droplets scattered through the air. Max coughed up blood as his sturdy-looking body trembled and slowly collapsed forward.
"Referee! The United States concedes this match!" Just before Max lost consciousness, Reinhardt rushed to the court's edge and signaled to the umpire.
"Ralph... alright, I understand..." Dodo started to speak, but when he noticed Reinhardt's eyes, he hesitated. After a brief pause, he reluctantly nodded in agreement.
"Since the American players are unable to continue, the winner of this Doubles Two match is Team Greece! The score: 3–1!" The umpire confirmed the forfeit and immediately announced Greece's victory.
The American medical staff quickly entered the court, carefully placing Max on a stretcher and carrying him away. Every member of the U.S. team, including Ryōma, looked grim. Max's condition was terrible.
As a descendant of the Stephanopoulos family, his opponents' so-called execution techniques were legendary. Even Tōno couldn't compare to the brothers in this regard. Their teamwork was flawless, and unlike Tōno's single-strike finish, their methods involved multiple stages of punishment. That made Max's injuries appear far worse.
In the original timeline, if those brothers hadn't intentionally held back and allowed Tōno to deliver the final mercy strike, even Kirihara might not have escaped execution. After all, the title of "executioner" wasn't given lightly.
"Next, we'll begin the Doubles One match! Team America—Kiko Balentien (first year high school) and Rocky Meredith (third year middle school)! Team Greece—Thalatta Hercules (third year high school) and Papadopoulos Evangelos (third year middle school)! Players, please enter the court!"
——————
No one expected the first doubles match between the United States and Greece to end so quickly. Meanwhile, the Swiss team was facing a similar predicament. Both Campbell and Cape were on the verge of collapse.
"Execution Law No. 8—Trial of the Heretic!" With Tōno's powerful drive, the tennis ball slammed into Cape's right shoulder. A jolt of numbness shot through his entire arm, and his racket slipped from his hand, clattering onto the court.
"Game! Japan! 4–0!"
Unlike Reinhardt, Amadeus didn't intend to concede, even though he knew Campbell and Cape had no chance of winning.
"Honestly, we predicted the result of this Doubles Two match before it even began. But we didn't expect Japan to send Tōno Atsukyou! Shouldn't we just surrender now? We planned to forfeit this one anyway!" said Ranbiell from the Swiss bench, frowning at Amadeus.
"No! As the world's second-ranked team, Switzerland will never surrender!" Amadeus cut him off instantly. In his mind, conceding wasn't an option. On the world stage, even if they lost, they would fall on the court.
Truly a worthy rival to Byoudouin—his extreme belief in tennis was just as fierce. Ranbiell looked conflicted but eventually sighed deeply and said no more.
The fifth game was Tōno's serve. Standing at the baseline, he silently sentenced his two opponents to "death." After four rounds, he had already used nearly all his execution techniques. Even Tōno himself hadn't expected things to go this smoothly.
"I suggest you two surrender now, or what comes next will be painful," said Kimijima from the front court, glancing at Campbell and Cape.
The two instinctively turned toward their bench. But when they saw Amadeus's cold expression, they immediately shook their heads. They clearly refused Kimijima's offer.
"I see... negotiation failed, then. Don't regret it later~" Kimijima shrugged helplessly. He'd given them a chance, but the Swiss team didn't take it.
At that moment, Tōno tossed the ball high. The sound of his serve was sharp and screeching, like metal grinding at high speed.
"Guess it's time to end this! Execution Law No. 7—The Brass Bull of Phalaris!"
The tennis ball blazed over the net and shot straight toward Campbell. Hearing Tōno's call, Campbell's body trembled, but since Tōno's attacks had slightly weakened since the fourth game, he mustered his courage and swung to intercept.
The instant the ball met the strings, a wave of searing heat coursed through the racket into Campbell's body, as if he had stepped into a furnace. Still, he endured the burning sensation and forced the ball back.
Kimijima knew exactly what Tōno planned. Adjusting his glasses, he stepped aside just in time. Behind him, Tōno was already waiting. Without hesitation, he swung his racket down.
"Execution Law No. 2—Firing Squad!"
The tennis ball, spinning violently, shot straight toward Campbell's face. He barely tilted his head aside in time, avoiding a direct hit, though a red mark still streaked across his cheek.
"15–0!"
"Tch! He dodged it. Didn't hit cleanly, huh? Well, no matter—this blood sacrifice ritual will be complete soon enough!" Tōno's eyes locked tightly on Campbell, a twisted excitement curling on his lips.
"I thought Switzerland's junior players would be strong too, but looks like I overestimated them. Maybe we're just special~" Kimijima chuckled lightly, already foreseeing how this match would end.
Once Campbell got ready to receive, Tōno tossed the ball without a word. This time, he didn't use any of his Execution Laws—just an ordinary high-speed serve.
Seeing that, Campbell secretly breathed out in relief. He sprinted to the bounce point and managed to return it smoothly. Kimijima slid in, caught the ball in time, and flicked his racket backward. The ball curved beautifully through the air, aiming for the open space on Cape's left.
Cape hurriedly sidestepped left, swinging hard the instant the ball bounced. His crosscourt return was solid—but Kimijima, surprisingly, moved in the wrong direction. The ball slipped right past him.
Then came a sharp crack. Tōno had somehow appeared in front of the ball, swinging without hesitation. The ball turned into a yellow streak of light and slammed into the top of Campbell's racket before he could react.
"Execution Law No. 1—Seppuku!"
The sheer force behind the shot made the racket's handle smash into Campbell's abdomen. Pain shot through him instantly, and he doubled over, acid rising in his throat as sweat poured from his forehead.
But something eerie happened—the ball rebounded off his racket, arcing back over the net toward Japan's side. Tōno stepped forward and swung upward, sending a high lob soaring into the air.
Cape spun around and chased after it, but it was clear he wouldn't make it before the ball landed near the baseline. Campbell, still reeling from the pain in his gut, couldn't move at all.
The spinning ball dropped unnaturally, landing right at Campbell's neck. In the next instant, the crowd gasped in horror—Campbell's head seemed to fall cleanly to the ground along with the ball.
"Mercy strike!"
"30–0!"
Fortunately, it was only an illusion. When the spectators blinked back to reality, Campbell was still standing where he'd been, seemingly unharmed. Only the Japan team knew—he was already finished.
Seeing Campbell alive, Cape let out a shaky sigh of relief. That vision had nearly given him a heart attack. But he quickly steadied himself, readying to receive Tōno's next serve.
Yet when Cape crouched in the backcourt, Campbell still hadn't moved. He stood there blankly, showing no sign of shifting forward. Cape frowned, puzzled, and opened his mouth to say something—when Tōno's serve blasted off again.
Cape sprinted for the landing spot and caught the bounce just in time, returning it cleanly toward the open right side.
The cold gleam from Kimijima's glasses made it impossible to read his expression. He stepped up to the net and, with a smooth swing, sent a blinding volley straight toward Campbell at the back.
Seeing the shot's path, Cape didn't even try to intercept it. He dashed for the net instead, trusting that Campbell would return the ball. Unfortunately, he was wrong.
"40–0!"
"What?!" Cape froze at the umpire's call, whipping his head around. Campbell was still standing motionless, and the ball had already flown far past the baseline, bouncing out of sight.
A chill crept up Cape's spine. Something was definitely wrong. He rushed over to Campbell, dread gnawing in his chest. A terrible feeling told him something bad was about to happen.
"What's wrong, Liano?!" he shouted as he reached him.
But Campbell didn't answer. His eyes were wide open, filled with terror and helplessness. His body was completely rigid—he couldn't even move a finger. The paralysis had spread through every nerve, stealing even his voice.