Watching Prince Ludovic of France stumble on the opposite side of the court, Akashi's expression remained completely calm—his eyes held no emotion, his face cold as ice. From what he'd seen so far, this so-called French prodigy was nothing more than a copy of Ryōma in a different uniform.
Through the Emperor Eye, Akashi had already analyzed the prince's five-dimensional stats. For a middle school player, his numbers were impressive, even remarkable—but that level could never completely suppress Ryōma, not even the original version of him.
'Looks like the author just buffed the prince to make the plot more dramatic,' Akashi thought briefly. 'Meanwhile, Ryōma got nerfed. Well, there were other reasons too.'
He quickly pushed such distractions aside. The tennis ball traced a beautiful arc through the air as he tossed it high. A sharp, explosive crack followed—an impact so clean it seemed to split the air itself.
The ball turned into a streak of light, speeding across the court toward the opposite baseline. Though the serve carried astonishing power, Akashi deliberately adjusted its angle, making it shoot straight at Prince Ludovic instead of the usual corner.
Ludovic felt the crushing weight of Akashi's mental pressure closing in. Gritting his teeth, he forced his body to move and swung with all his strength, returning the serve. Yet the quality of his shot was poor—his rhythm had been broken, the speed and angle both compromised by the strain on his mind.
In an instant, Akashi vanished from the baseline. The next moment, he reappeared right at the net, his right arm pulling back slightly. Seeing this, Ludovic's expression froze. He knew Akashi was preparing for a diagonal crosscourt drive. Without hesitation, he rushed toward his right front corner to intercept.
But just as Akashi's racket was about to connect, his lips curved into a cold smirk. In the blink of an eye, Ludovic realized with horror that the ball—supposed to fly crosscourt—had suddenly changed trajectory at the last moment. Instead of a diagonal shot, it became a straight-line bullet.
Panic flared in his chest. He tried to change direction and chase the ball down, but Akashi's shot was far too fast. All Ludovic could do was watch helplessly as the ball zipped past him.
The next moment, a familiar sensation of weightlessness spread through his legs. His face turned pale, but his years of horseback training kicked in, and his exceptional sense of balance barely saved him from falling again.
Even so, he stumbled. The ball, meanwhile, had already landed out of bounds, rolling quietly to rest beyond the baseline—mocking him, as if laughing at his futile effort. The scene pierced straight through Ludovic's proud heart.
"40–0!"
When Ludovic turned his furious gaze toward Akashi, it felt like his glare could burn through steel. Yet Akashi didn't even glance his way. He had already turned his back, calmly walking to the baseline again—each step measured, steady, unshaken.
His eyes reflected a disturbing calmness. Without giving Ludovic a second to recover, Akashi bent forward slightly, tossed the ball again, and swung his racket in a single, fluid motion.
This time, the ball's rotation was sharp and clean, slicing through the air at a perfectly straight angle—like a guided missile locked on its target.
Watching the ball rush toward him, Ludovic's anger exploded. "Don't underestimate me!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the stadium. "I am Prince Ludovic Chardard!"
The roar of his pride filled the court. For that moment, his self-esteem overpowered the pressure in his mind. Regaining control, he gripped his racket tightly, channeling all his strength into his right arm. His backhand whipped through the air, the ball streaking out with a yellow afterimage that tore across Akashi's half like a lightning bolt.
But before it could land, Akashi's figure flickered again. Suddenly, he was right in front of the ball, those mismatched eyes flashing red with lightning—piercing, absolute.
The next instant, Ludovic felt a chill between his legs, as though something had sliced through the air right past him. He turned his head in disbelief—only to see the tennis ball bouncing out of his own baseline.
"Game! Japan! 3–0!"
The umpire's voice echoed across the court. Ludovic stood frozen, his expression blank, unable to process what had just happened. Akashi remained in his follow-through stance, his two-toned eyes coldly fixed on him.
"Pathetic," Akashi said flatly, lowering his racket. "Your struggles are meaningless. Before this match even began, your defeat was already decided."
His tone was calm—not mocking, not proud—simply stating a truth that crushed the prince's pride like glass. Ludovic's fists trembled as a wave of helpless frustration rose within him.
Akashi Seijurō had already turned away, his expression as unreadable as ever.
As the match entered a short break, Akashi slowly walked toward the bench. From the players' seats, Atobe caught sight of those mismatched eyes and couldn't help the twitch at the corner of his mouth—he knew exactly what that meant.
"You weren't even taking this seriously, were you~ Akashi!" Atobe said with a half-smirk, his tone mocking—but the ridicule was clearly aimed at France's Prince Ludovic.
"Serious? There's no need for that. I'm not planning to destroy his tennis completely," Akashi replied calmly, glancing briefly at Atobe before turning his gaze away.
On the French bench, Camus stepped up to Ludovic, letting out a quiet sigh before speaking gently.
"Show me your full strength. That match just now didn't look like the Prince I know. I won't deny Akashi Seijurō's power, but remember this, Ludovic Chardard—no one is invincible. Even Volk from Germany can be beaten."
Ludovic's head shot up at those words. His eyes were filled not with fear or frustration, but with burning anger and the deep-seated pride of his noble blood. He had never believed himself inferior to any peer.
"Don't underestimate the pride of the Ludovic Chardard family, Leopold Camus de Charpentier! I will not lose this match!" Ludovic declared firmly.
Seeing the fire back in the prince's eyes, Camus chuckled softly at himself for ever doubting him. How could he have thought this proud youth would be shaken so easily? Smiling faintly, he turned without another word and returned to the bench.
The break ended quickly. When Ludovic stepped back onto the court, his aura had completely changed. The pressure from Akashi's mental domination was gone, replaced by the faint image of a knight's phantom standing proudly behind him.
Akashi, meanwhile, stood still with his jacket draped loosely over his shoulders, his expression calm as ever—as if Ludovic didn't even exist in his eyes. He already knew the prince could use an Alternate Dimension; after all, in the original timeline, Ludovic had clashed with Ryōma's Samurai Alternate Dimension for quite some time.
The fourth game began—Ludovic's service game. As he tossed the ball high, tiny silver-white sparks shimmered faintly around him. When his racket struck, the ball shot forward wrapped in a trail of radiant starlight.
Akashi narrowed his eyes. A surge of power burst out from him like a storm, faint red lightning flickering at the edges of his pupils. He had entered the Zone.
The moment the ball bounced on his court, Akashi swung. A white shockwave spread out from the center of his racket, turning the returning ball into a transparent burst of energy that sliced through Ludovic's half like lightning.
Refusing to be outdone, Ludovic exploded into motion, his footwork kicking up a burst of dust as he dashed several steps sideways. He swung with full force to intercept—but the instant the ball met his racket, an enormous recoil shot through his wrist like a hammer strike.
"What—! Impossible!" he gasped. His racket flew high into the air, and the ball streaked past him, landing well beyond the baseline.
"0–15!"
"That's... the Super Sweet Spot! I didn't think Akashi-kun could already hit that so effortlessly, without relying solely on the Glowing Shot!" Irie said from the sidelines, eyes gleaming like he'd just discovered a priceless gem.
"Glowing Shot is derived from the Super Sweet Spot," Oni commented, clearly impressed. "But being able to blend that technique seamlessly into your basic tennis—there aren't many who can do that yet." He should know; it had taken him ages to master, and even then, he could only use it with the Black Tomahawk.
Back on court, Ludovic shook off his shock. Refusing to give up, he tossed the ball again. It shot forward once more, trailing streaks of silver fire. But Akashi, still in Zone state, merely gave a light, casual swing.
The ball rocketed back instantly—its speed and power far exceeding before. Ludovic gritted his teeth, gripping his racket with both hands as he swung upward with all his might.
The frame creaked loudly under the force of impact, but he managed to return the ball. Unfortunately, he still underestimated the sheer power behind Akashi's shot. The ball soared high into the air toward the opposite side.
Akashi's jacket fluttered as he leapt skyward, his left hand glowing with brilliant golden light. A thunderous boom followed as the ball turned into a blinding sphere of energy and crashed straight toward Ludovic.
Facing the incoming blast, Ludovic didn't flinch. He tightened his grip and raised his racket again. He had already witnessed the might of the Glowing Shot—from Niō's illusionary Byoudouin to Duke's final volleys—but his royal pride wouldn't allow him to retreat.
The shrill sound of friction filled the air as the ball pressed heavily against his strings, forcing his arms downward under its crushing weight. Gritting his teeth, Ludovic tried desperately to send it back.
Then—crack! The sound of snapping strings echoed across the court. His racket broke cleanly in two. The next instant, he felt his grip vanish and his body was flung backward from the impact.
The golden ball slammed into the court behind him, exploding in a burst of dust and light.
"0–30!"