"15-0!"

The umpire's voice rang out.

The spectators snapped out of their daze, their faces filled with disbelief.

"No way… That's gotta be a joke, right?" one of the Indian team's representatives muttered in shock. "Kiran didn't even touch the ball?"

"He got careless," another said, shaking his head. "His opponent isn't as simple as he thought. The data he collected was overturned—no way he could return that shot."

"Exactly," someone else agreed. "It's like a computer update. Different versions of a system aren't always compatible."

Unlike the average spectators, the Indian U-17 players quickly regained their composure after the initial surprise.

Kiran was strong—but his strength didn't lie in raw power. It was his supercomputer-like brain that made him formidable.

This Japanese player was no pushover, but they were confident that once Kiran updated his data, he'd crush him.

"Tch."

On the court, Kiran himself had snapped out of his momentary freeze. He glanced at his opponent, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

"That's more like it," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Show me the same power you used to defeat Park Junsu."

His sharp gaze bore into Tokugawa, as if peeling back layers to dissect every bit of information.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Tokugawa remained unfazed.

After securing the point, he calmly bounced the ball a few times before tossing it into the air.

Crack!

The Phantom Serve shot out once more.

The ball flickered in mid-air before vanishing completely. By the time anyone registered it, the ball had already landed behind Kiran.

"30-0!"

The crowd gasped.

This serve felt significantly faster than before.

Crack!

Another serve.

The ball hit the ground and bounced—yet again, Kiran couldn't even react in time.

"40-0!"

"Not bad," Kiran suddenly said, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "An excellent serve. It took me three tries to fully analyze its trajectory."

"This guy…"

Kaji, Kaneshiro, and the others narrowed their eyes.

On the surface, it sounded like praise—but if Kiran had truly deciphered the Phantom Serve in just three attempts, his analytical skills were terrifying.

And they doubted he'd bluff about something like this.

Whoosh!

Tokugawa showed no reaction.

He simply tossed the ball again and swung his racket upward in a sharp, fluid motion.

Crack!

The ball transformed into a streak of shimmering light, darting across the court.

"A fine serve indeed," Kiran mused before suddenly dashing to the side.

To everyone's shock, he swung at empty air—

BANG!

A loud impact echoed as the Phantom Serve was intercepted mid-flight.

Kiran's perception was monstrous.

"Huh?"

But then—

His expression twisted in disbelief.

"This… power…? Impossible!"

Clatter.

His racket slipped from his grip and hit the ground.

"Game!"

"Japan leads, 3-4! Change sides!"

The crowd stared in stunned silence.

No one expected this slender, unassuming player to possess such raw strength.

"Right," Coach Viyas muttered, eyes glinting. "He withstood the full force of Korea's power player. Never judge a book by its cover."

Kiran had underestimated him.

"But…"

A smirk crept onto the Indian coach's face.

"This might be exactly what he needs. Only when the mask comes off does he truly get serious."

"Good. Very good."

At the baseline, Kiran—who had been staring at his fallen racket—slowly lifted his head.

A sharp glint flashed in his shadowed eyes.

Rip!

In one swift motion, he tore off his blue wristbands, revealing black weights hidden beneath.

Then, he removed the weighted straps from his ankles, dropping the lead plates inside.

THUD!

The heavy weights hit the ground with a dull thud.

"Hiss—" Get full chapters from ɴovelfire.net

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Even some of the Indian and Japanese players couldn't hide their shock.

"No… way…" Akutsu, Hirakoba, and the others gaped. "He was playing with those on him this whole time?!"

"Heh."

An Indian player scoffed. "Warm-up's over. Now, the real hunt begins."

"Interesting," Captain Taran Sharma chuckled. "I never thought Kiran's seal would be broken before the World Cup."

The last time Kiran had gone all out was nine months ago—during an exhibition match against England's captain.

That match had been a grueling two-hour battle, ending only when the English captain unleashed a forbidden technique.

"So…" No. 3 Roha, a dark-skinned player, murmured. "We'll see that terrifying domain again?"

---

### The Eighth Game – Kiran's Serve

Free from his restraints, Kiran tied back his disheveled brown hair.

The bookish strategist had vanished—replaced by a cold, lethal predator.

"You stand no chance of winning this match."

He tossed the ball high—

BANG!

A bullet-like serve shot across the net.

"A straight shot?"

The Japanese players frowned. The serve had no spin—just pure speed.

But after Kiran's earlier tricks, they weren't taking any chances.

"Is it really just a straight serve?" Tokugawa narrowed his eyes.

Having trained in the Cave of Enlightenment, his perception was razor-sharp.

At a glance, he confirmed—this was indeed a no-frills, straight serve.

"Is he playing reverse psychology?"

He locked eyes with Kiran.

Logic had two sides.

Any argument could be supported with the right evidence—but only those who saw the truth could separate fact from deception.

To him, this was just a straight serve. No tricks.

Swish!

Just as the ball was about to bounce, Tokugawa swung early—

Tap.

But then—

The ball changed direction mid-bounce, veering sharply away from him.

"15-0!"

"What kind of serve was that?!" Kaji and Oomagari exchanged stunned looks.

If this was the power of advanced tennis, Kiran's technique was on another level entirely.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Kiran bounced the ball calmly before serving again.

This time—a sharp side spin.

The ball spun like a top, ensuring a low bounce.

Tokugawa prepared accordingly.

Tap.

But once again—

The ball launched upward instead.

He barely managed to return it, but Kiran was already waiting—

SMASH!

"30-0!"

"How?!"

Even Yagyu and Kaneshiro, known for their sharp eyes, couldn't detect any hidden spin.

"Don't tell me…" Kaji muttered. "His serves are at a pro level now?"

The mood grew heavy.

But then, someone glanced at their raven-haired leader sitting on the bench.

"Captain," Hakamada asked, confused. "What's going on?"

"It's simple," Ishikawa said, shaking his head. "You're overcomplicating things. The truth doesn't always require deep analysis."

"…!"

On the court, Tokugawa's eyes sharpened in realization.

BANG!

Kiran served again—a high-speed spin aimed at the service line.

This time, Tokugawa focused—and spotted it.

A pebble the size of a fingernail lay where the ball would land.

"So that's it!"

The mystery of the erratic bounces was solved.

As Ishikawa said—the answer was simple.

Crack!

He adjusted his swing and returned the unpredictable bounce with ease.

"Finally figured it out?" Kiran grinned. "Too bad. On this court, you're full of openings."

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The rally intensified—but Tokugawa was on the backfoot.

No matter how he attacked, Kiran always predicted his moves and countered with precision.

"He's… dominating him!" Hakamada gasped.

"Every shot is flawless," Kaneshiro noted. "Kiran's reading Tokugawa like an open book."

"Is this the power of Data Tennis?" Kaji muttered.

Tokugawa wasn't playing poorly—yet he was being overwhelmed.

"Mitsudomoe," the Ochi brothers turned to their bespectacled teammate. "Is this… a higher form of Data Tennis?"

"I don't know," Mitsudomoe admitted. "His understanding surpasses mine. This isn't just data analysis—it's like he's weaving an information net around the court."

"Every shot, every bounce, even the opponent's mental state—Kiran controls it all."

"He's like a spider, waiting for its prey to struggle in a web of his own making."

A spider…

The description sent chills down their spines.

Watching Tokugawa fight desperately, they understood—he was trapped.

The harder he struggled, the tighter the web became.

BANG!

"Game!"

"India leads, 5-3!"

In minutes, Kiran secured the game, tilting the match firmly in his favor.

"You're skilled," Kiran said, smiling. "But every move you make is already calculated."

Roha, India's No. 3, frowned.

"So it's here… the Absolute Realm of Data Tennis."

His stamina, once his pride, had been crushed in that domain like metal under a hydraulic press.

Once trapped, nothing escaped unscathed.

Yet—

Tokugawa's expression remained unchanged.

Ignoring the doubtful stares, he served again.

BANG!

Kiran intercepted effortlessly.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The exchanges continued—but Kiran returned every shot.

To the spectators, the match was still under his control.

But something felt… off.

"Strange," Roha muttered. "From the start, all his shots have been aimed directly at Kiran."

"Has he given up?" someone asked.

"No," Captain Taran shook his head. "The tide is turning."

BANG!

Kiran returned another shot—but his confident smirk was gone.

"What's happening? His power… it's increasing?!"

After over a dozen exchanges, Kiran realized—

Tokugawa's strikes were growing stronger with each hit.

And as their speed escalated, the ball's impact kicked up a thick cloud of dust, obscuring the court.

Whoosh!

A sudden gust—

Kiran's instincts screamed at him to end this now.

Rip!

But then—

The dust parted.

A glowing, blue-green tennis ball materialized right in front of him.

His pupils shrank to pinpricks.

"That's—!"

A memory flashed in his mind.

"A… forbidden technique?!"

(End of Chapter.)