Ralph tossed the ball back to Yoru and retreated to his baseline, gripping his racket with both hands as his expression turned serious.
In all their previous matches, Ralph had always suspected Yoru was holding back.
That last serve confirmed it.
A simple flat serve, yet it carried terrifying speed. The mark left on the court proved its power.
None of Ralph's past opponents had ever managed to hit a flat serve with such force—let alone someone two years younger than him.
Yoru is serious now.
That single serve was proof.
"That serve was insane!"
"The other kid didn't even react!"
"No way…"
"Wait, isn't that Ralph? The runner-up from the past few years?"
"It's him! Nobody remembers second place… unless it's Ralph Reinhardt!"
"Are the past two finalists playing now?"
More and more spectators recognized them, halting their exit.
After all, Yoru and Ralph had dominated the All-American Junior Tournament finals for years. Most regular attendees knew them.
THUD!
The ball struck the ground and rebounded. Ralph's body twitched, but before he could even move, the ball shot past him.
30-0!
Another ace.
Even faster than the last one.
Ralph took a deep breath and turned to stare at the ball behind him.
He had pushed his senses to the limit, even starting to move the moment Yoru swung—yet he still couldn't react.
"Two serves should be enough."
Yoru's voice cut through the tension.
THUD!
The ball rocketed across the court again, just as fast.
This time, Ralph moved before the hit, predicting the trajectory based on Yoru's swing and contact point.
For someone of Ralph's caliber, this wasn't difficult.
His feet blurred as he lunged, his racket slicing through the air—
CRACK!
A sharp impact echoed through the stadium.
The ball, previously a blur, was now trapped dead-center in Ralph's strings.
"Got it!"
Ralph's eyes narrowed, his muscles tensing as he analyzed the court in a split second.
His arms snapped forward, whipping the ball toward the sharpest angle—
"Sharp Angle Drive."
Yoru's voice was calm.
One of Ralph's signature techniques, a staple even in pro matches. Most players struggled to counter its sudden, tight angle.
But Yoru wasn't most players.
Before the ball could even bounce, a shadow flickered into position at the net.
"So fast!"
The crowd gasped.
A second ago, Yoru had been rooted at the baseline. Now, he was there.
"So this is my brother's real strength…"
Ryoma inhaled sharply.
The player on the court today was nothing like the one from last night.
THUD!
Yoru's return was just as brutal, nearly matching his serve's speed—but with even deadlier precision.
Luckily, Ralph had anticipated this.
He reached the bounce point just in time, countering with another drive.
After years of facing Yoru, he knew better than to expect Sharp Angle Drive to work.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
The ball streaked back and forth as the stands grew louder.
Such relentless exchanges were rare.
"This is way better than the finals earlier!"
"It's like amateurs versus pros—are they really students?"
"Fun fact: These two are the past champions. Every final for years has been them."
The crowd buzzed, but the players ignored it, locked in their duel.
[Detected: Ryoma Echizen has copied Sharp Angle Drive (Lv. 6).]
[Multiplicative Feedback: You have acquired Sharp Angle Drive (Lv. 8)!]
"Copying already, huh?"
Yoru spared a glance at Ryoma.
With his Perfect Copy awakened early, Ryoma had just replicated Ralph's technique just by watching.
But due to his stats and fundamentals, he could only copy up to Lv. 6.
Even Muga no Kyōchi required firsthand experience to replicate moves—Ryoma's talent was on another level.
"Then let's test what you copied!"
Yoru's racket flashed.
The ball dipped sharply, skimming the net before jamming into the front corner—
THUD!
It rocketed out of bounds before Ralph could even twitch.
Even he hadn't expected Yoru to pull out his own move.
Thanks to Perfect Copy, Yoru had long since mastered Ralph's techniques.
But copying them himself was less efficient than letting Ryoma do it first—Multiplicative Feedback was no joke.
"40-0, Yoru leads!"
Ryoma announced the score, his eyes wide.
"Flawless speed, power, and angle. You've practiced this for a while, huh?" Ralph raised an eyebrow.
Yoru smirked. "Guess."
"Seriously? 'Guess'?" Ralph rolled his eyes.
"What, you're not a kid at 15?"
The feedback had boosted the technique to Lv. 8—perfected beyond Ralph's own mastery.
The gap between Lv. 7 and Lv. 8 was massive.
Since he'd promised a real match, Yoru wasn't holding back.
THUD!
Another serve.
The ball shot like a laser, kicking up dust as it slammed into the court—
Ralph had already predicted the landing and sprinted into position.
But then—
The ball jumped vertically, rocketing straight at his face.
Faster than the serve itself.
No time to adjust. Ralph barely managed to jerk his head aside.
WHOOSH!
The ball grazed his cheek, drawing blood as it soared out of bounds.
"1-0!"
Ryoma swallowed hard.
Twist Serve.
A move he knew well—yet in Yoru's hands, it was unrecognizable.
"That… was insane."
The crowd erupted.
The sheer violence of that Twist Serve was unreal—the ball had rebounded at a near 90-degree angle.
"This monster…"
Ralph wiped the blood from his cheek, heart pounding.
Had he dodged even a millisecond slower, the damage would've been worse.
As he retrieved the ball, his expression darkened.
This Twist Serve was nothing like the ones he'd faced before.
Who could've imagined that beneath that speed and power lurked that much spin? The ball hadn't even stopped after bouncing.
It shattered everything Ralph knew about the technique.
And because of that lack of hesitation—he'd charged right into its path.
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