"Is… is that the legendary Mach Serve?"

Outside the court, the South Korean team members were stunned.

"Too fast!"

Kim Tae-woo hadn't even managed to swing his racket. How could anyone return a serve like that?

"Damn it," one of the Korean players muttered bitterly. "We were just one point away from winning the game."

The rest of the team fell silent.

Their advantage had vanished in an instant. In a direct match, their opponent was no match for Tae-woo—except for that absurd serve. It felt like cheating! But since it was technically legal, there was nothing they could say.

Boom!

Another serve at 70% power landed. Tae-woo's feet moved, but his racket remained still.

"Deuce! (40-40)!"

"Again!" Tae-woo shouted, rallying his focus as he prepared for the next serve.

Boom!

This time, as the ball landed, Tae-woo finally reacted. The crowd watched as he stepped forward, swinging his racket the moment the ball bounced—

Smack!

—only for the shot to slam straight into the net.

"Advantage, server!"

"Tch." Tae-woo clicked his tongue in frustration, but the spectators could see the confidence returning to his expression.

"That's our Tae-woo!" The Korean team grinned.

Only a prodigy like him could adapt so quickly to such an insane serve.

Whoosh!

Munehiro tossed the ball again, his exposed right eye glinting coldly. His racket swung down with brutal force.

Boom!

Tae-woo braced himself, but the sheer speed of the ball felt like an unbridgeable gap.

Thud.

The ball hit the ground.

He stood frozen, unable to move a muscle.

Scratch…

Only when the ball rolled to his feet did he snap back to reality.

"Gulp."

He swallowed hard, looking up at his opponent in disbelief. "That feeling just now… Could it be—?"

His face darkened as realization struck.

"The Supersonic Dimension!"

Outside the court, Lee Seung-bu, Korea's No. 1 player, frowned. "I never expected a Japanese high schooler to reach that level."

The Supersonic Dimension was an elite tennis realm—one that guaranteed a player's entry into the professional league. And yet, he'd never heard of a high schooler mastering it before.

Even if Munehiro only tapped into it during serves, it was terrifying enough.

Tae-woo, now fully aware of what he was up against, tensed like a cornered beast.

"Game! Japan leads, 1-0! Change ends!"

The first game ended.

As the players switched sides, the serve shifted to Tae-woo. He bounced the ball lightly, searching for his rhythm.

"The Supersonic Dimension, huh?" He gripped the ball tightly, his gaze piercing. "I didn't expect you to reach that level. But this match… will still be mine."

He served aggressively, charging forward with his signature [Lightning Tempo], quickly leveling the score.

"Good."

In the broadcast room, Kim Gun-yoon nodded approvingly. "If Tae-woo can hold his serve, he still has a chance."

He had to admit, the kid had guts. Facing an opponent who'd touched that realm without flinching? That took serious mental strength.

The match intensified, both players holding their serves until the score reached 5-5.

In the 11th game, Munehiro secured another effortless win with his Mach Serve.

Boom!

"Game! Japan leads, 6-5! Change ends!"

The 12th game—Tae-woo's serve.

Despite trailing, he remained confident. If he could hold this, they'd go into a tiebreak.

Boom!

He served and dashed forward, aiming to dominate with his speed.

But this time, Munehiro shifted tactics—a sharp passing shot straight to the baseline.

"What?!"

Tae-woo barely managed to pivot, watching as the ball landed perfectly on the line.

"Incredible control!"

The Korean team stiffened. They hadn't expected Munehiro to hide such precise shot placement until now.

"Something's wrong," Seung-bu muttered. "He's been holding back. Now that he's making his move, he's aiming to end this."

"But why wait until now?" Yoon Seung-hyun frowned.

"To drain Tae-woo's stamina," Seung-bu said grimly.

This tall Japanese player was far from just a brute—he was calculating.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

A fierce baseline rally erupted.

"Hmph! This won't work on me!" Tae-woo smirked, returning every deep shot. "You're just delaying the inevitable."

Tap!

But then—Munehiro switched to a drop shot.

The ball floated delicately over the net.

"Beautiful!" The Japanese team applauded.

Ishikawa smiled. That drop shot had been perfectly set up, executed flawlessly.

"Damn it!" Tae-woo gritted his teeth, sprinting forward. His speed was unreal—he reached the ball just before its second bounce.

"He made it!"

"That's our Tae-woo!"

"Now's the time to counter!"

The Korean team cheered as he lunged for the return.

Tap!

He got it—barely. The ball arced high, and he steadied himself, ready to unleash a furious net assault.

But when he looked up, Munehiro was already mid-air, racket poised for a smash.

Tae-woo's eyes widened.

Boom!

A deafening crack echoed behind him.

"0-15!"

"Gulp." Some of the Korean players paled.

"There it is," Mitsuya said, closing his notebook with a smile. "Munehiro's Mach Smash."

Ishikawa nodded.

The Mach Serve was essentially a smash disguised as a serve. To maintain dominance, Munehiro just needed to force his opponent into a high return—turning every game into his own serve.

He had fully integrated the [Supersonic Dimension] into his playstyle, evolving beyond its initial limitations.

"H-He can do that?!"

The Korean team was speechless. What had been a close match had suddenly turned one-sided.

"Tae-woo…"

They glanced at their star player, now standing frozen at the net, his expression unreadable.

"Good. Very good."

Tae-woo lifted his head, his eyes sharp. "I didn't expect you to have another trick like that. Fine then—I won't hold back either."

He retreated to the baseline, gripping the ball tightly.

"I was saving this for the World Cup, but you'll do as a warm-up."

Hum!

A surge of blue energy erupted around him—cool yet razor-sharp.

"What is this?!"

Most of the Korean team gasped.

Jung Eun-hyuk, Tae-woo's close friend, clenched his fists. "This is his secret weapon—[Mach Breaker]. I can't believe he's using it now!"

Boom!

Tae-woo's serve rocketed across the court, his body blurring as he charged forward like a bolt of lightning.

"Too fast!!!"

Even the Japanese team was stunned.

The speed was overwhelming—enough to pressure their own speedster, Mashita. By their metrics, Tae-woo's speed had just skyrocketed to 7.5.

Boom!

Munehiro returned the serve, but Tae-woo was already at the net in a flash.

"You can't beat me in speed!"

His confidence surged as he raised his racket—

Then froze.

Munehiro had swept aside his bangs, revealing his left eye. A crushing wave of mental pressure slammed into Tae-woo.

Smack!

His return hit the net.

Thud.

The ball rolled to a stop.

Silence.

"0-30!"

"H-How?!"

The Korean team stared in disbelief. Their No. 2 player—making such a basic mistake?!

"M-My hands…"

Tae-woo trembled, unable to steady himself.

"Tonight… is a full moon."

Munehiro turned away, his aura receding.

The Koreans were too focused on Tae-woo to notice, but Seung-bu felt the shift.

"That pressure…" His stomach dropped. "He was hiding his true strength too?"

And if he remembered correctly, this guy was only Japan's No. 4.

That meant there were three players ranked above him.

No—four.

His gaze shifted to the black-haired boy sitting on the coach's bench, the No. 1 insignia gleaming on his collar.

Smack!

"Fault!"

Tae-woo's next serve hit the net.

Boom!

His second attempt sailed long.

"Out! Double fault! 0-40!"

"Damn it!" Coach Park Dong-geon's face twisted in fury. Losing was one thing, but losing like this? It was humiliating.

Yet Tae-woo couldn't control his hands. His speed was unmatched, but his mental resilience was lacking. Under Munehiro's [Mental Assassin] technique, he was helpless.

Smack! Smack!

Two more serves—both faults.

"Game and first set! Japan's Munehiro wins, 7-5!"

During the break, Coach Park tried to calm Tae-woo down, but it was no use.

The second set was a massacre.

Munehiro's [Full Moon] state crushed Tae-woo's spirit. 0-5 in minutes.

The sixth game was Munehiro's serve—everyone knew it was over.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Three straight points. 40-0. Match point.

"Referee!"

Just as the crowd braced for the end, Munehiro raised his hand.

In clear English, he declared:

"I forfeit."

Gasp!

The stadium erupted.

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