Yoru spun the tennis ball in his hand. "In that case... I can only say sorry."
A blinding golden lightning erupted from his fingertips.
The aura of Destruction instantly engulfed the entire court.
The audience gasped—this felt exactly like Byoudouin's Destruction. Was it the same technique?
The answer was written all over Byoudouin's face.
Frozen in place, his lips slightly parted, pupils contracted in shock, he stared at Yoru in disbelief.
"Impossible... This can't be real."
Destruction.
His Destruction.
Yoru had not only copied it—he'd unleashed it at a higher level. The oppressive aura around the ball was a full tier stronger than his own.
"Just learned it, so I'm still a bit rough. Be careful... don't die."
SWISH—!
With a flick of his wrist, Yoru tossed the ball high. His racket struck the Super Sweet Spot with pinpoint precision.
For a split second, the ball blazed like golden thunder, so radiant it seemed to dim the sun itself. The air around the court split violently, forming a vacuum along the centerline.
Byoudouin's expression darkened.
The ball hadn't even arrived, yet the shockwave alone sent stinging windblades against his skin. Gritting his teeth, he raised his racket and charged forward, swinging with all his might—
BOOOOOOM—!
A deafening explosion rocked the stadium.
A mushroom cloud of dust erupted from Byoudouin's position.
Less than half a second later—
WHOOSH!
A figure flew out of the dust.
No—not just a figure.
It was Byoudouin himself, hurled backward by the ball's force, his body slamming into the wall with a sickening CRACK!
Cough—! Blood sprayed from his mouth.
Yet the madman wasn't despairing. His eyes burned with excitement, his lips curling into a frenzied grin before he burst into laughter.
"HAHAHAHA! So this is the true power of my Destruction?!"
Byoudouin's madness only grew.
He'd read the reports—he knew Yoru could copy techniques. Even as he was sent flying, he was thrilled.
His creation had limitless potential.
His path wasn't wrong!
"Yoru scores, 40-0!"
One more point. Just one more, and Yoru would claim victory.
---
Meanwhile, a figure quietly slipped into the stands, taking a seat directly behind Coach Ryuzaki.
"Hey, old hag. My kid's not bad, huh?"
The familiar teasing voice made Ryuzaki smirk without turning around. "I believe you now. At his age, you were worse."
The man was none other than Echizen Nanjirou, who'd arrived at the Nationals venue that morning.
This was the National Championship—a title he'd never won. Since his son was about to fulfill that dream for him, he figured he might as well show up.
His car had moved at a leisurely pace, but he'd made it just in time.
"As much as I hate to admit it... yeah." Nanjirou shrugged.
At the same age, in terms of pure skill, they might've been even.
But factoring in Ten Senses Manipulation? That changed everything.
He was certain—even at his peak in high school, he might've lost to Yoru.
Just like Yoru's mother, Nalan Langmann.
In raw talent, she couldn't match Nanjirou's level.
But with sensory manipulation, she'd become the undisputed queen of women's tennis.
Her power wasn't in strength—it was in that godlike ability, requiring no setup, activating at will.
There were players who'd blinded themselves, deafened themselves, yet still fell victim to her illusions.
Now, at her full strength, even Nanjirou would struggle to break free immediately.
And Yoru?
His future was even higher.
But Nanjirou hoped Yoru would push open that door—the one beyond conventional limits. With Ten Senses Manipulation, he might become the most transcendent player in history.
---
Back on the court, Yoru picked up another ball, walking to the opposite service line.
"Your technique's pretty useful."
Byoudouin's eyes blazed with excitement, his gaze locked onto Yoru's next serve.
Winning didn't matter anymore—he just wanted to see how far Destruction could go.
"But before that... check the scoreboard."
Byoudouin blinked, then turned his head.
The display didn't read 5-4.
It was 5-0.
"What...?"
"Call it my ability. What you saw wasn't entirely fake—just a mix of truth and illusion. The points you 'won' were fabrications."
"Most of the crowd's reactions were real, though. I just amplified what you heard... with some adjustments."
Byoudouin's mind reeled.
"No wonder... From the moment I 'scored,' everything felt off."
"Illusion and reality, blending together." Yoru smirked. "Consider it an experiment. Now, for the real Destruction."
Golden light erupted between his fingers.
The atmosphere grew heavy, the audience unconsciously holding their breaths.
Last time, he'd held back—testing Destruction's base power.
This time?
No restraints.
"Take a trip to hell, Byoudouin."
BOOOOOOM—!!!
Glowing Shot: Destruction—MAX OUTPUT!
The moment the racket connected, a tornado of force erupted, swallowing Byoudouin in a pillar of annihilation.
"So... this is my Destruction..."
Light consumed him.
For an instant, he felt it—the absolute power that could erase anything.
Then, nothingness.
The court quaked. Twin mushroom clouds exploded upward. The crowd stumbled as the ground trembled beneath them.
A shadow slammed into the far wall—hard.
When the dust cleared...
Byoudouin was embedded in the concrete, blood streaking down as his body slid to the ground.
"Guess we're skipping the handshake."
Yoru shook his head, walking off the court.
He hadn't aimed at Byoudouin.
The madman had charged into the blast, willingly taking the full force just to experience it.
But with his Phoenix Rebirth talent...
He'd only come back stronger.
"That kid..." Nanjirou sighed.
He knew Yoru's copying ability surpassed even Ryoma's.
Sometimes, he wondered where his eldest son's limits really were. Maybe one day, even without the Ten Senses, he'd stand beside him as an equal.
"GAME, SET, AND MATCH! 6-0, Yoru ECHIZEN!"
"FINAL SCORE 5-0! SEIGAKU WINS THE NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!"
As the referee's voice echoed, medics rushed onto the court.
The crowd erupted.
Seigaku's team collapsed into a cheering pile—all except Ryuzaki, who turned and lunged at Nanjirou.
"N-Nanjirou—"
"W-Wait, old hag! What are you— AHHHHH!!"
Yoru covered his eyes, as if someone had splashed chili oil into them.
---
Somewhere in the stands, a woman in sunglasses stood and walked away, her applause lost in the roar of the crowd.