"One set, start! Japan serves first!"
At the umpire's call, the match officially began. Atobe walked slowly to the baseline, a playful smile on his lips, his sharp gaze fixed firmly on Siegfried across the net. His aura kept climbing higher and higher.
Bismarck's casual expression suddenly stiffened. He had underestimated the middle schooler, but by then Atobe had already tossed the ball high.
A surge of mental force traveled down Atobe's arm into his racket. The moment the ball was struck, a violent shockwave rippled outward, shattering lights around the court and breaking glasses among the audience.
"Ice Emperor!"
The ball, carrying that terrifying force, shot straight at Siegfried. He was too stunned to react, but his body moved on instinct, swinging his racket to block.
The impact was far beyond anything he had expected. The shock blasted through his racket into his hand. He couldn't hold on—his racket was smashed away, and he himself staggered back, rolling across the ground in disgrace.
"Ace! 15–0!"
"Oi! Weren't you just acting cocky a second ago? Ore-sama will give you a free warning—watch out for the rain of glass on the court!" In the shower of glittering shards, Atobe raised his racket, pointing at the fallen Siegfried with arrogant pride.
"Good grief… I knew you couldn't be relied on," Bismarck sighed in disappointment.
"You've got to be kidding me! What did that Japanese kid just do? Why did my glasses shatter?!" a young man shouted from the stands.
"Same here! Never seen anything like that before. Could it be Japan's players are actually strong?" another spectator chimed in.
For a moment, the cheers froze. Then the arena erupted in screams and chatter. The atmosphere shifted. No longer focused blindly on Germany, the crowd's eyes turned to Atobe.
Siegfried grit his teeth, picked up his racket, and glared at Atobe. But ore-sama had already tossed the ball again. Another Ice Emperor detonated across the court.
This time Siegfried rushed to intercept, gripping the racket with both hands. It was useless. His racket was blasted away again, though at least he managed to stay on his feet.
"Ace! 30–0!"
"So this is Germany's strength? I don't get it—how did you win nine straight titles? Or maybe… you're just a worthless piece of trash!" Atobe sneered, voice dripping mockery.
"Tch, Siegfried, you really did disgrace Germany! Sit tight and watch. If I have to, I'll finish this alone. Tch tch tch…" Bismarck's words, though biting, only made his partner seethe more.
Siegfried's forehead veins bulged. He was on the verge of snapping, but Bismarck's authority kept him in check. All he could do was glare hatefully at Atobe.
Atobe, of course, didn't care about his feelings. Two more Ice Emperors exploded across the court. Twice more Siegfried's racket was knocked away.
"Ace! 40–0!"
"Game! Japan leads 1–0!"
Since this was an exhibition, the three matches weren't using the new doubles rule—receivers didn't have to alternate. That meant Siegfried was forced to be the one humiliated over and over, his racket blasted from his hands until they lost the opening game.
The second game was Bismarck's serve. He told Siegfried to cool off, then stepped to the baseline. Tossing the ball high, he fired off a blazing flat serve at lightning speed.
Irie only saw a blur—the ball flashed past him, bouncing once and rocketing out of bounds. He froze in shock, cold sweat sliding down his forehead as he turned stiffly toward the ball outside the court.
"Ace! 15–0!"
"I… couldn't even react. So it's true. With my ability, I'm not qualified for the world stage…" Irie muttered with a bitter smile, helplessly speaking to himself. His words, however, were perfectly audible to Bismarck and Siegfried across the net.
'So that's it! The real threat is that middle schooler. This high schooler is just filling a spot. No wonder Q.P.'s files never mentioned his name. Looks like Japan's hiding their cards!' Bismarck analyzed swiftly in his mind.
Siegfried's face regained some arrogance as he looked at Irie with disdain. He hadn't expected that the high schooler across from him couldn't even return Bismarck's ordinary serve. Pathetic.
"Irie's at it again, huh~" Oni muttered helplessly from the sidelines.
"Under Irie-senpai's acting, the chance of those two letting down their guard is 91.4%," Mitsuya said confidently, adjusting his glasses.
"Hmph! And Atobe didn't stop Irie-senpai's antics?" Sanada frowned, casting a disapproving glance at Atobe.
"Relax, Genichirō. That's Irie-senpai's style. You're too tense right now. Better adjust your mindset," Yukimura said gently.
Even though Sanada's strength was far beyond what it once was, at the end of the day he was still just a fourteen-year-old boy. Facing strong opponents from around the world in front of so many spectators, it was natural for his nerves to show.
Atobe, raised under elite education from a young age, was different. He didn't show even the slightest hint of stage fright. With his personality, being nervous because of the crowd would've been a joke.
While Japan's bench discussed, Bismarck sent out two more blazing serves. Irie chased hard, looking as though he was giving his all, but the speed was too much. All he could do was watch the ball bounce out.
"Ace! 30–0!"
"Ace! 40–0!"
"Got any intel on that high schooler, Q.P.?" Volk suddenly asked from the German bench.
"Irie Kanata. A third-year high schooler on Japan's team. Never really appeared in major tournaments. The only record is from two years ago at the French World Cup, but he was just a substitute then," Q.P. answered flatly.
"I see. But something about him feels… off. Still, Bismarck should be enough," Volk frowned. He'd sensed something subtle in Irie's movements, something even Q.P. seemed to have missed. He decided to keep watching.
On court, Bismarck tossed the ball and drove it down with force. The ball shot across at incredible speed. Just when Siegfried thought they had the second game sealed, Irie roared and somehow forced the ball back. It floated weakly across the net.
Even Bismarck was a little surprised, but he rushed up and flicked it back before it could bounce. The very next second, Atobe leapt high, slamming down a crushing smash.
The ball streaked past Bismarck at the net toward the back. Siegfried darted after it, but the smash had been aimed at him deliberately. The ball struck his racket's frame, knocking it from his hand yet again.
The ball rose into the air. Atobe, already springing for a second jump, smashed it cleanly. A glowing beam of light tore through the middle of Bismarck and Siegfried, then bounced out of bounds.
"Rondo Towards Destruction!"
"40–15!"
"Hmm… so you saw through it?" Bismarck said, his gaze turning sharper as he looked at Atobe, who had just landed.
"So the real ace is that middle schooler. Japan's lineup really is bizarre," Gilles laughed from the German bench.
"There are plenty of strong middle schoolers this year. Don't forget, Spain's Medanore is one too," Q.P. replied casually.
On court, Bismarck glanced at Irie, who was celebrating simply returning a serve. He shook his head, then tossed the ball again. The serve ripped across the net toward the right baseline corner.
Irie sprinted desperately, barely managing to tap it back. This time, Bismarck was ready. He stepped forward and lashed a forehand down the line at Atobe. He had no interest in bullying the weak.
Atobe's eyes gleamed coldly. Dozens of ice spears materialized, stabbing into the dead angles around Bismarck and Siegfried. He swung toward one of them.
The ball traced a yellow afterimage to Bismarck's left. Just as he turned, his body locked up for an instant. Siegfried hadn't expected him to miss it, so he failed to react in time. The ball sailed out untouched.
"Ice World!"
"40–30!"
"You two will be frozen solid before ore-sama!" Atobe declared, his glare cutting into Bismarck and Siegfried as he scored.