While the Japan Team worried over Tezuka losing the first set, on another court the match between Spain and the United States had reached a tense point. Hopkins stared grimly at Mares—his left hand had been numb for nearly the entire match.
Even switching the racket to his right hand didn't help. He wasn't like Ryōma; he couldn't use Nitōryū. Still, his pride wouldn't allow him to just give up. Ironically, the same ability he'd once used to paralyze opponents had now turned against him.
The match had reached match point. As soon as his left hand regained feeling, Hopkins tossed the ball high and swung hard, his left arm driving the serve down sharply. The ball spun fiercely as it shot toward Spain's side of the court.
Mares moved to the landing spot, smiling as always. His eyes locked onto Hopkins's racket, and he swung decisively. The ball, vibrating with a unique spin and wobble, flew back even faster toward the U.S. side.
"Target Shot!"
Hopkins rushed forward, extending his racket in a backhand block. The ball rebounded sharply from his racket, bouncing back toward Spain's half with its momentum reversed.
But the instant he made contact, Hopkins realized his left hand had gone numb again. This time, though, there was no panic or frustration on his face—only a faint, calm smile.
Just as Mares prepared to finish the set, a sharp pain suddenly stabbed through his ankle. He stumbled slightly, unable to reach the ball in time, and could only watch it bounce out of bounds.
"15–40!"
"You've hidden your old injury well throughout this entire match. Even I didn't catch it right away. Combined with that tricky Target Shot, you put me in quite a bind… but in the end, I found your weakness," Hopkins said evenly after scoring the point.
'That old injury… it's from when I went hunting in the mountains with my father as a child. He actually managed to draw out such an ancient wound!' Mares thought, surprised as he looked across the net at Hopkins.
"It seems you really can't afford to let your guard down against the U.S. Team. But do you really think an old injury like that can affect the outcome of this match?" Mares said with a soft, almost teasing tone, though his smile had disappeared.
Hopkins didn't reply. Once the feeling returned to his hand, he tossed the ball again. The sound of impact rang out as the serve flew across the net, spinning with that strange, unsettling rotation.
Mares frowned slightly but didn't think much of it. He flashed to the landing point and swung. The moment his racket moved, the stabbing pain in his ankle returned—far worse than before.
The sudden pain broke his concentration. Though he managed to hit the ball back, it lacked his signature spin and wobble. It was just a simple straight shot.
Hopkins was already at the net by the time the ball crossed over. Without hesitation, he swung. The ball streaked like a comet toward Mares's left baseline.
Mares gritted his teeth, forcing his aching ankle to move. He barely reached the ball before it bounced out, but his return flew high into the air. His expression darkened instantly—Hopkins leaped up, his left hand swinging the racket down hard.
"30–40!"
"Mares's movement looks off… could it be his old injury is in his leg? But why have I never heard him mention it?" Julio said from Spain's bench, his tone uneasy.
"Relax," Ryōga said with a light chuckle. "Alan's ability can't seriously injure Mares. Besides, if I'm not mistaken, you guys tend to show your true power only when you're cornered, right?"
"Hmph! Easy for you to say," Rodrigo snorted, unimpressed by Ryōga's words.
Bambieri glanced at the two of them, wanting to speak, but ultimately stayed silent and turned his focus back to the match. Medanoré, on the other hand, hadn't said a single word—arms crossed, eyes fixed calmly on the court.
Meanwhile, Seda and Romeo were both watching Ryōga with thoughtful expressions. Ever since Romeo had learned of Seda's talent in psychology and hypnosis, the two had started talking much more often in private.
As the Spanish bench exchanged words, the match on the court shifted dramatically. Under Hopkins's interference, Mares's movements grew slower and more strained. Several balls slipped past him untouched, his body unable to keep up with his will.
"Game! United States! 5–2!"
Relying on his unique surgical ability, Hopkins finally managed to take the seventh game from Mares. But he knew this was already his limit. His opponent's stamina carried an unusual strength—he could no longer guide or manipulate the injury as before.
'Maybe I should switch targets. His right waist looks slightly uncoordinated when he exerts force… I'll try that next,' Hopkins thought as he walked toward the bench, quietly planning his strategy for the rest of the match.
On the other side, Mares had already returned to his own bench. He immediately grabbed a can of cooling spray from the staff and applied it to his ankle. Before long, the stabbing pain eased significantly. After flexing it a few times, it felt as though the problem had mostly disappeared.
"Looks like it's time to finish this, huh, Mares~?" Medanoré said suddenly, his tone calm but firm.
"I was hoping to play around a bit longer, but that handsome guy really is dangerous… fine then, I'll do as you say, Antonio~," Mares replied with a playful smile. But as soon as he said it, his aura began to surge higher and higher.
———————————————
Meanwhile, in the match between the Japan Team and the Germany Team, the break between sets had ended. Tezuka picked up his racket and stepped back onto the court, his expression steady as always. Across from him, Q.P. remained as emotionless as before. Neither said a word as they started the second set.
Q.P. served first. He moved to the baseline, grabbed a ball, and without even testing its bounce, tossed it high into the air. His left arm swung in one smooth, powerful motion, the racket slicing sharply downward.
Tezuka reacted instantly, his body flashing forward to the landing point. Meeting the rising ball, he swung hard, sending it streaking toward the open space on Q.P.'s right side.
After the previous set, Tezuka had already decided to stop forcing the Ultimate Zone. He understood perfectly that in a situation where his strength was being completely suppressed, forcing that state would only wear down his arm unnecessarily.
What he wanted now was clarity of mind—to find enlightenment within his mental state. He needed to discover the way to merge the three Radiances. Without that, he stood no chance against Q.P., who had absorbed both the Radiance of Love and the Radiance of Pain.
As their fierce exchange continued, both players unconsciously entered their enhanced states—Tezuka into Ten'i Muhō no Kiwami and Q.P. into the Light of Pride. Tezuka's body soon glowed with overlapping waves of blue and silver light—the Radiances of Love and Despair. He was fighting with everything he had.
Unfortunately, Q.P.'s strength matched and even surpassed the dual Radiances. The match began to look like a repeat of the previous set. Tezuka was barely keeping up, unable to launch any effective counterattack.
"15–0!"
"30–0!"
"30–15!"
"40–15!"
"Game! Germany leads, 1–0!"
Before long, Q.P. had secured the first game of the second set with ease. Many spectators, especially those with sharper eyes, were beginning to accept that Tezuka no longer had any chance of winning. Still, being able to fight Germany's number two player this evenly was already an impressive feat.
Even among the Japan Team, silent sighs spread through the bench. At this point, Tezuka's odds of a comeback were slim. Q.P. had already sealed off nearly every aspect of Tezuka's game.
"Game! Germany leads, 2–0!"
"Game! Germany leads, 3–0!"
The momentum continued as predicted. No matter what strategies Tezuka tried, he couldn't take a single game. Watching him walk off during the changeover, no one on the Japan bench knew what to say anymore.
Only Akashi's gaze remained intense, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His earlier prediction had been right—the key to merging the three Radiances truly lay with Q.P. himself.
'You might be using Tezuka's Ten'i Muhō no Kiwami to refine your own special form of the Light of Pride, but you don't even realize that you're helping Tezuka as well. Every rally, every exchange—you're pushing him closer to understanding his inner self. In terms of mental state, Q.P.… you've become his perfect model,' Akashi thought as his sharp eyes followed the two players.
When the short break ended, the match resumed—and the situation didn't change much. Q.P. still held absolute control. Whatever shot Tezuka used, Q.P. countered instantly, dismantling every attempt.
"Game! Germany leads, 4–0!"
The crowd erupted in chants of "Two more games! Two more games!" Their voices echoed through the stadium until the umpire sternly called for silence, clearly pressured by Q.P.'s earlier warning.
As Q.P. stepped to the baseline to serve again, Tezuka slowly closed his eyes. Inside his mind, a serene image appeared—a still pool of water. From the void above, a single droplet fell toward the surface.
Strangely, when it touched the water, not a single ripple spread.
Like a mirror of still water…