Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 367: Chapter 46: Shattered Belief

At that moment, the members of the Japan Team also noticed Noah on the opposite side. After all, the man holding a guide dog was hard to miss. Shiraishi frowned slightly, speaking with some hesitation.

”It looks like the Australian players just broke free from Ochi-senpai’s Spiritual Assassination influence.”

”Don’t underestimate that technique,” Oni said calmly, completely unconcerned. ”Strictly speaking, that move is Ochi’s real trump card. The Mach Serve is just a precondition for activating Spiritual Assassination.”

”Ochi developed the Mach Serve precisely to make Spiritual Assassination easier to trigger, so let’s just keep watching,” Coach Kurobe added, finally breaking his silence.

On the court, Milky felt a wave of relief wash over him after successfully scoring with his serve. Thankfully, Noah’s timely words had steadied his nerves—otherwise, things could’ve gone downhill fast. But as he quietly thanked his luck, his gaze accidentally met Ochi’s once more, and a faint crescent moon flickered again within his pupils.

He didn’t feel anything unusual—only that Ochi’s eyes seemed disturbingly cold. Ochi, meanwhile, stepped closer to the still-eyed-closed Sanada and said softly, ”When you return the next ball, close your eyes right after. Don’t look at me while returning. Their next serve won’t be that fast.”

That was exactly why Ochi preferred pairing with Mouri in doubles—his Spiritual Assassination affected both ally and enemy alike. Anyone who met his gaze risked falling under it. Since the Mach Serve exerted invisible mental pressure on everyone nearby, Mouri’s Sleep Mode had been the perfect match for him.

Sanada nodded seriously. He had personally experienced Spiritual Assassination during the Shuffle Match back at the training camp—and he had no desire to go through that again.

When Sanada moved to the backcourt, Milky immediately tossed the ball and served another Neutrino. But as soon as the ball left his racket, something felt wrong—too late, though. Sanada had already countered with Move like Thunder.

Mac barely managed to react in time, blocking the blinding lightning shot with both hands. Because Sanada had closed his eyes during the swing, the trajectory of Move like Thunder was straightforward, easy for Mac to read.

Feeling the numbing shock surge through his arm, Mac gritted his teeth and returned the ball. Years of firing Superluminal Particle Serves had built his strength—his arms were far from weak. But then, Ochi suddenly appeared in front of the returning ball, locking eyes with him for an instant.

The next moment, Mac saw the high schooler tap a lob right over him. Without hesitation, he rushed forward, leaping high into the air and swinging down with all his strength. The ball streaked like a flash of light—only to crash straight into the net.

”Fault! 30–40!”

”I’m starting to think this court is actually Ochi-senpai’s home ground,” Ishida Gin suddenly muttered from the Japan bench, palms pressed together.

”Hoist with their own petard, huh? How poetic,” Yukimura said with a knowing smile, glancing over the restless crowd.

Milky wiped the sweat from his palms. Even with Noah’s calming presence, the crushing pressure refused to fade. The constant jeers from the audience only made his head throb harder.

His next serve came out noticeably weaker, its speed dropping by nearly half. Sanada didn’t even need Move like Thunder this time—he returned it cleanly with ease. Milky rushed forward to make up for his mistake, intercepting Sanada’s shot and driving it toward an open spot across the court.

But just as he struck, Ochi appeared again. The distance between them meant nothing to him—he flicked the ball across the net toward Mac.

Mac, haunted by his previous missed smash, instinctively went for a lift shot this time. The ball rose high, but Ochi’s tall frame was already at the net. He simply rose on his toes and slammed it down.

A flash of yellow streaked between Milky and Mac before they could even move. The smash—roughly sixty percent the speed of a Mach Serve—hit the ground before they realized what happened.

”Game! Japan! 4–1!”

From the Australian bench, Noah fell silent upon hearing the score. He hadn’t expected Japan to send a high school player for the doubles match. For the past two days—through both the exhibition and the group stage—the Japan Team had showcased the overwhelming strength of their middle schoolers.

The sixth game was Ochi’s service game, and the Japan Team members on the sideline all looked visibly relaxed. After all, in every world-level match so far, Ochi Tsukimitsu had never once lost a service game. His Mach Serve, said to surpass even professional standards, was not just empty praise.

As expected, the next four serves played out exactly as everyone imagined. No matter how hard Milky and Mac focused, they couldn’t even react in time. Each Mach Serve struck like a thunderclap, and with every point, the pressure in their hearts only grew heavier.

”Game! Japan! 5–1!”

”Milky, you haven’t given up yet, have you?” Mac asked, wiping the sweat from his chin as he looked toward his partner.

”Of course not! Even if we’re pushed this far, I’ll never give up! We have to win this match—to live up to Noah’s trust!” Milky bent forward, resting his hands on his knees, but his tone was unshakably firm.

”Then let’s give it everything we’ve got,” Mac said resolutely. ”Let’s use our whole lives’ worth of strength and hit the Superluminal Particle! It’s the only thing we can do for Australia now.”

With that, he strode to the baseline, his resolve burning. The Spiritual Assassination Ochi had left lingering within him was crushed under the weight of his own will.

Mac tossed the ball high, every ounce of determination surging within him. His right hand drove the racket down with fierce power. The ball became a streak of light, tearing through the air at incredible speed before landing deep on Ochi’s left side.

But Ochi suddenly slid two steps to the left, intercepting the ball just before it bounced out of bounds. His return was high—a defensive lob barely keeping the rally alive.

”Sanada! Block it!” Ochi called out right after striking.

Milky had already leapt into the air, swinging down with all his might at the descending ball. Lightning flashed as Sanada’s entire body flared with energy—he appeared at the net in an instant, a massive mountain phantom forming behind him. Milky’s smash slammed straight into that immovable wall.

”Unmoving as the mountain!”

With a quick twist of his wrist, Sanada spun the ball once on his racket and then brought it down in a blazing counterattack. A huge pillar of fire roared toward Milky, the searing heat warping the very air around them.

”Invading like fire!”

Milky didn’t retreat an inch. Gripping his racket tightly, he charged forward into the flames. His shout rang out as the blazing ball collided with his strings. His racket was blasted from his hands—but the ball, barely redirected, made it back across the net.

The next instant, a tall shadow leapt out from behind Sanada. Ochi was already at the net. He rose effortlessly, slamming the ball downward with all his might. The smash, traveling at nearly sixty percent of Mach Serve speed, left Mac completely unable to respond.

”0–15!”

”Sometimes, no matter how strong your will or belief, it can’t overcome the absolute gap in strength. That’s the reality of the world,” Ochi said coldly, standing at the net and looking down on the two Australians. The air around him trembled with an overwhelming surge of mental energy.

After those words, he turned calmly and walked back to the baseline. Passing Sanada, he said quietly, ”The match is over.”

Sanada blinked, not immediately understanding—but a moment later, he realized exactly what Ochi meant.

Standing at the baseline, the faint crescent moon reappeared in Mac’s pupils. Cracks spread across it, splintering until the moon completely shattered—along with his composure and his belief in tennis itself.

He tossed the ball up blankly, his mind empty. His racket swung through the air but missed entirely. The ball dropped gently to the ground. The entire arena fell silent, disbelief rippling through the crowd.

”Fault! Second serve!”

Ochi stood in the backcourt, his face utterly calm, as if none of this had anything to do with him. This was the final stage of his Spiritual Assassination—the ultimate strike that crushed an opponent’s belief completely.

Even in the original account, Mouri had experienced the same collapse after entering high school. If not for witnessing Yukimura’s suffering later, he might have abandoned tennis altogether.

”Double fault! 0–30!”

”Double fault! 0–40!”

With Mac’s shattered spirit, he could no longer serve properly. Confusion clouded his mind; he didn’t even hear Milky’s frantic shouting beside him.

”Game! 6–1! Match over! Winner—Japan Team!”