The twelfth game was Amadeus's serve. Standing at the baseline, he tossed the ball into the air and swung down hard. A booming explosion echoed across the stadium, and in the next instant, complete darkness engulfed the entire court.
"Dark Shot!"
Akutsu's eyes narrowed. He sprinted to the landing point and fired back a Glowing Shot without hesitation. But unlike before, the light failed to pierce the darkness. Even the golden glow of his shot seemed to be swallowed by the shadow above the court.
If anyone could have clearly seen Amadeus at that moment, they would have noticed the dark aura swirling around him. His already tanned skin had deepened to a near-black hue, like a layer of armor coating his body—almost as if he were wrapped in Armament Haki straight out of a pirate's dream.
Within the pitch-black space, only his eyes gleamed sharply. Amadeus ignored the incoming Glowing Shot, swung his racket, and countered with overwhelming force. As the ball flew, the darkness thickened further, dimming every trace of light until Akutsu felt as if his sight was fading away.
But just before the darkness consumed him completely, a massive spectral wolf's claw tore through the void. The shadows shattered, sunlight burst back into the arena, and in front of Amadeus appeared a spinning golden sphere filled with vicious ripping force.
"Glowing Shot—Claw Rend!"
"0–15!"
Dust and smoke billowed everywhere. Tatsuta stepped forward, gripping his racket tightly, and stopped the ball just before it smashed into the back wall—preventing what could've been serious damage and protecting the spectators behind.
"Phew… that was close. Almost went bad there," Tatsuta muttered to himself, exhaling in relief.
Akashi's eyes flickered as he watched. From how effortlessly Tatsuta had handled Akutsu's Claw Rend, it was clear his strength likely surpassed Amadeus's. The only question was—how would he compare to Oni?
"Kurāraga… thanks," Amadeus said quietly after turning to look at Tatsuta. He had been careless for a moment just now.
"To hear you say thank you—that's rare. All right, get back out there, Alexander," Tatsuta replied with a chuckle before returning to the Swiss bench.
Now that Amadeus knew Akutsu could tear through his darkness with the Glowing Shot—Claw Rend, he abandoned the idea of using the shadows to swallow him whole. But that exchange had also revealed more of Akutsu's weaknesses.
Perhaps because of that, Amadeus began reading Akutsu's Eighth Consciousness illusions more accurately. Again and again, he correctly predicted the true shot, though Akutsu still managed to score occasionally. Their points rose and fell in steady alternation.
"15–15!"
"15–30!"
"30–30!"
"40–30!"
Soon, Akutsu realized Amadeus had completely deciphered his eightfold Eighth Consciousness. Every movement he made, every strike, was being seen through. The frustration burned visibly in his eyes.
"Game! Switzerland! 6–6! A tiebreak will now begin! Switzerland serves first!"
"So they've gone all the way to a tiebreak, huh~ That Akutsu kid sure knows how to hide his cards. What do you think, leader?" Duke said with a grin, glancing at Byoudouin.
"Heh… that's probably Akashi's doing. Otherwise, with Akutsu's temperament, he'd have gone all out long ago," Byoudouin replied calmly, glancing toward Akashi.
"Akashi-kun, huh? Makes sense. No one else could make Akutsu follow orders," Duke nodded in agreement.
As the two spoke, the tiebreak began. Just like before, Amadeus used Akutsu's hitting habits to open up weaknesses, while Akutsu stubbornly countered with Eighth Consciousness, knowing it wasn't working.
"Seems this is your limit. To push me this far—aside from Byoudouin, you're the first, Akutsu Jin," Amadeus said in his usual calm tone as he returned the ball.
"Hah? My limit? Don't screw with me!!!"
Rage exploded from within Akutsu. The wild energy around him ignited like fire, blazing brighter by the second.
The next moment, nine distinct attacking stances burst forth behind him. Including his own, ten separate silhouettes now faced Amadeus head-on.
The sight left Amadeus completely frozen in shock.
"0–1!"
"This is… Eighth Consciousness?!" Duke shouted in surprise from the sidelines.
"No, not yet. This should be the limit of Eighth Consciousness," Byoudouin replied firmly, narrowing his eyes.
Even so, a deep shock rippled inside him. Not even he had managed to push Eighth Consciousness this far. When he fought a professional player from Huaxia, he could only produce at most nine attack stances at once.
It wasn't until he risked his life and grasped one of the ultimate truths of Divine Path of the Asura that he awakened Eighth Consciousness. For Akutsu to reach such a level without crossing that line was truly beyond Byoudouin's expectations.
"Maybe only someone with that kind of monstrous physical talent could pull this off," Byoudouin muttered softly once his composure returned.
On the court, the balance had completely shifted. With Eighth Consciousness pushed to its peak, Amadeus could no longer keep up. Even though he managed to see through seven illusions, the remaining three were enough to force constant misreads.
"Game! 7–6! First set over! Winner—Japan! Total score 1–0!"
When the referee announced the result, Amadeus stood still, shaking his head slightly in frustration. Yet, he didn't lose confidence. From that tiebreak battle, he had realized that Akutsu couldn't possibly maintain that state for long.
Akashi's gaze followed Akutsu as he walked back toward the bench. Without wasting a second, he took a can of cooling spray from the medical team and crouched in front of him, applying it directly to his swollen ankle. The medical staff quickly caught on and began massaging his calves and ankles to ease the strain.
"No using Eighth Consciousness in the second set," Akashi said coolly, handing the spray to the medics without looking up.
Akutsu didn't snap back with his usual "Don't order me around." Instead, he stayed silent. He could already feel the sharp sting from his ankles—he knew Akashi was doing this for his sake.
Still, in his heart, he made up his mind. If it came down to it, he would use Eighth Consciousness again to score, even if only as his final card. So he chose silence rather than argument.
Akashi read his silence perfectly and simply stared at him. Slowly, an invisible pressure spread, weighing down on Akutsu's chest.
"Tch! I got it," Akutsu finally muttered, clicking his tongue, clearly annoyed but conceding nonetheless.
"Don't forget what you said yourself," Akashi replied before turning and walking back to the bench.
———
"Game! America! 4–2!"
In another stadium, during the match between Team USA and Team Greece, Vulcan clutched his right shoulder in pain, his face twisted in disbelief. His thoughts churned violently, unable to process what had just happened.
Across from him, Hopkins stood calmly at the baseline, his expression cold and unreadable—but in his eyes burned a firm resolve. For Team USA, losing was not an option.
"My, my… you look like you're in pain. How about forfeiting the match?" Hopkins said in an almost casual tone, his words dripping with mock concern.
"Larsius's old injury resurfacing at such a crucial time… this is…" Hermes trailed off, unsure what to say. He couldn't tell if this was pure coincidence—or something far more deliberate.
"It's not coincidence. It's inevitability," Zeus said gravely, eyes locked on Hopkins. "That old injury must have been deliberately provoked by the opponent through some special method during the match."
"Someone on Team USA can actually do something like that?" Hercules asked in disbelief.
On the court, Vulcan gritted his teeth and tightened the muscles of his injured arm, forcing his body to move. He swung with all his strength, sparks bursting from his racket as the ball flew like a blazing warhammer straight toward Hopkins.
"Heavenfire Hammer!"
"If you keep this up, your injury will only worsen! Why ruin your entire career for one match?" Hopkins said, intercepting the ball with both hands, his voice calm but edged with persuasion.
But Vulcan ignored him completely. He continued to attack with reckless fury, forcing Hopkins to hesitate. For the first time, the American wasn't sure whether he should keep provoking the injury or hold back.
Eventually, the damage caught up. Vulcan's swing faltered—his motion warped by pain—and the ball shot past Hopkins but failed to land inside the court.
"Out! 30–0!"
Even so, when Hopkins looked at his opponent's unyielding expression, he knew Vulcan would never quit. With a sigh, he returned to the baseline to serve again. But before he could toss the ball, a brilliant golden light suddenly erupted from Vulcan's body.
"Radiance of Amber—Mount Olympus!"