The roar from the Ikaruga bench was deafening, a sudden, collective explosion of incredulous joy. Kazuki's ace serve, the 'Zero Spin Serve' that had defied all expectations, had shifted the very air in the gymnasium. Nishikawa's players, initially stunned, now wore expressions of disbelief and dawning concern. The score, once a definitive game point for them, now stood at a precarious 24-25, still in their favor, but the momentum had swung violently.
Kazuki stood at the serving line, his chest heaving, the ghost of the blue system screen still shimmering behind his eyes. He had done it. He had pulled his team back from the brink, not with a lucky shot, but with a precise, calculated act of skill. His teammates, led by Hikaru, rushed towards him, slapping his back, their shouts of "Kazuki! Unbelievable!" ringing in his ears. Kaito, though still tight-lipped, offered a brief, almost imperceptible nod, a rare sign of acknowledgment.
Coach Tanaka, who had stood frozen moments ago, now clapped his hands together, a sharp, almost triumphant sound. "Alright! That's it! Let's go, Ikaruga! Get this point!" His voice, usually gruff, held a newfound vigor. For the first time, Kazuki felt a genuine, if still wary, approval from his coach.
The game resumed, the tension palpable. It was Ikaruga's serve again, still Kazuki's turn. Nishikawa, clearly rattled, called a quick timeout. Their captain, a tall, stern middle blocker named Renji, was seen gesturing wildly, directing his receivers to shift positions, to anticipate Kazuki's unorthodox serve.
Kazuki walked back to the serving line, the ball feeling lighter than ever in his hand. He took a deep breath, the 'Zone Entry Lv.1' skill activating, dulling the surrounding noise, sharpening his focus to an almost preternatural degree. He could feel the eyes of Nishikawa's players, their new formation, their desperate scramble to adjust. He also felt the subtle hum of the VolleyGod System, a silent conductor in the orchestra of his heightened senses.
He tossed the ball, higher this time, and leaped. THWACK! The sound was a familiar symphony. The 'Zero Spin Serve' rocketed over the net, once again dropping with deceptive speed. Nishikawa's libero, anticipating the same corner, lunged, but the ball dipped unexpectedly, hitting the side of his arm and bouncing wildly off-court. Another ace.
Ikaruga: 25 - Nishikawa: 25.
The gymnasium erupted into genuine pandemonium. The few spectators, mostly parents and younger students, were on their feet, cheering wildly. The Ikaruga bench exploded in cheers, some players even jumping onto the court in their excitement before being waved back by the assistant coach. Kazuki had not only saved game point, he had tied the set.
Coach Tanaka, for once, allowed a full, wide grin to break across his usually stoic face. He slapped his thigh, a rare display of unbridled joy. "Yes! Kazuki! That's it! Keep the pressure on!"
The next few points were a blur of intense rallies. Nishikawa, now playing with a fierce determination, managed to score, making it 25-26. But Ikaruga, fueled by Kazuki's sudden brilliance, fought back. Kazuki continued to be an immovable force on defense. His receives were flawless, sending perfect passes to Kaito, allowing the setter to run more complex offensive plays. At one point, a Nishikawa spiker launched a powerful cross-court shot that would have been an ace against anyone else. But Kazuki, utilizing his improved 'Jump Timing' and 'Reaction Buffer,' leaped and angled his forearm, executing an impossible one-handed dig that sent the ball soaring back over the net, catching Nishikawa off guard and landing for a point.
Ikaruga: 26 - Nishikawa: 26.
The crowd was on fire. This was no longer just a scrimmage; it was an epic battle. Kazuki found himself in the rotation to block. Nishikawa's main middle blocker, a formidable player, went up for a quick spike. Kazuki, his 'Focus: Zone Entry Lv.1' giving him an almost prescient awareness of the opponent's movements, leaped with him. His improved vertical jump allowed him to meet the opponent at the peak of their jump, and his 'Air Balance Lv.2' (a skill he hadn't fully unlocked but felt the proto-versions of through the system's ongoing adaptation) allowed him to adjust his body mid-air, creating a perfect, impenetrable wall. The ball slammed into his hands, rebounding with a loud thud to Nishikawa's side of the court, a clean block.
Ikaruga: 27 - Nishikawa: 26. Set point for Ikaruga.
The gymnasium was a cacophony of sound. His teammates were beside themselves, slapping his back, shouting his name. Coach Tanaka was pumping his fist, a rare, uncharacteristic display of emotion. Kazuki, for the first time in his life, felt like the center of the universe on a volleyball court. He had contributed not just one point, but five points in total, either through aces, impossible digs, or crucial blocks. He, the eternal benchwarmer, was now the reason they were on the verge of winning a set against a team they usually struggled against.
The final point was a long, grueling rally. Nishikawa defended valiantly, but Ikaruga, with their renewed confidence, pushed hard. Kazuki made another crucial receive, sending the ball perfectly to Kaito. Kaito, perhaps still reeling from Kazuki's sudden transformation, sent the set a little too wide for Hikaru. It looked like the rally would end in Nishikawa's favor. But just as Hikaru strained to reach the ball, a Nishikawa blocker mistimed his jump, touching the net. Net touch. Point for Ikaruga.
Ikaruga wins the set, 28-26.
The victory was anticlimactic in its final moment, but the relief and elation that washed over the Ikaruga team were immense. They had won a set against Nishikawa, a rare achievement, and it was largely thanks to Kazuki.
The full match, however, was a best-of-three, and Ikaruga eventually lost the scrimmage, two sets to one. Nishikawa, after the shock of the first set, adjusted their strategy, managing to counter Kazuki's serves more effectively and exploiting Ikaruga's remaining offensive weaknesses. But the outcome felt different. It wasn't a demoralizing defeat; it was a hard-fought battle, a promising glimpse of what Ikaruga could be.
After the handshake line, as the teams dispersed, Kazuki felt a myriad of emotions. Exhaustion, yes, but also a profound sense of accomplishment. He had not just played; he had impacted the game. He, the "Number 0," had become a pivotal player.
As he walked towards the locker room, he noticed a shift in his teammates' demeanor. Hikaru approached him, a genuine smile on his face. "Kazuki, seriously, where did those serves come from? And those receives? You were on fire out there!" His tone was open, admiring. Kaito, too, finally approached, though his expression was still a mixture of awe and unease. "Yeah, I… I didn't know you had that in you. Those serves are crazy. And that last block…" His voice trailed off, a hint of grudging respect in his eyes.
Other teammates, even some of the senior players who had once ignored him, now offered hesitant nods, a few mumbled "Good game, Kazuki." The condescending whispers had vanished, replaced by a new, almost uncomfortable, reverence. He felt a sudden, almost overwhelming wave of validation. This was what he had craved. Acceptance. Recognition.
But amidst the newfound respect, Kazuki also sensed a subtle undercurrent of tension. Some of the senior players, those who had always felt secure in their positions, now eyed him with a strange mix of suspicion and resentment. He was an anomaly, an unquantifiable variable that had suddenly disrupted their established hierarchy. He could feel their unspoken questions: Who is this guy? Where did this come from? Is he a threat? It was a new kind of isolation, a distance born not of dismissal, but of uncertainty.
As he was packing his bag in the bustling locker room, a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see Renji, the captain of Nishikawa High, standing over him. Renji was tall, with an intense gaze that seemed to miss nothing. His expression was serious, devoid of the usual post-match pleasantries.
"Kazuki Shōra," Renji said, his voice low, almost a murmur, so that only Kazuki could hear. "That was… unexpected. Your serve. And your eyes." He paused, his gaze boring into Kazuki's. "We will meet again in the main tournament, Ikaruga. And when we do, your system… it won't be enough."
Kazuki froze, his hand still on his bag. My system? The words hit him like a physical blow. How could Renji possibly know? The VolleyGod System was his secret, a reality only he could perceive. Had he given something away? A subtle flicker in his eyes, a unique movement? He felt a sudden, chilling vulnerability.
"What… what do you mean, 'my system'?" Kazuki managed to ask, his voice barely a whisper. He tried to keep his face impassive, but a surge of fear tightened his stomach.
Renji's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile, devoid of humor. "You'll find out soon enough. Just know you're not alone. Not anymore." He then turned and walked away, melting into the crowd of his teammates, leaving Kazuki reeling.
Not alone? The words echoed in Kazuki's mind, triggering a frantic internal search. Just then, the blue screen of the VolleyGod System, which had been silent since the match ended, flickered violently. It pulsed with an alarming intensity, its usual calm interface replaced by jagged, unstable lines. A stream of foreign characters, unlike any Japanese or English script he had ever seen, flashed across the display, followed by a stark, red warning.
[INTERFERENCE DETECTED][SCANNING PROCESS HALTED]
The screen went dark for a split second, then flickered back to life, its surface now rippling as if disturbed by an unseen force. A new message appeared, the text still in the system's usual script, but this time, accompanied by a distinct, synthesized voice – deep, resonant, and utterly devoid of human emotion.
"You are not the only user."
The voice, calm and detached, delivered a revelation that shattered Kazuki's perception of his unique situation. Not the only user. He wasn't special. He wasn't the sole recipient of this extraordinary power. There were others. And at least one of them, Renji, knew about it. He felt a profound sense of shock, quickly followed by a cold dread. If Renji knew, who else did? And what did they want?
Kazuki slowly walked out of the bustling gymnasium, the noise of the departing teams fading behind him. He needed air, space to think. He climbed the stairs to the school rooftop, a place he rarely visited, drawn by the need for solitude and a panoramic view of the world that suddenly felt much larger and more complicated.
The sun was setting, painting the Ikaruga sky in hues of orange and purple. Below, the town lights began to twinkle. He leaned against the railing, gazing out at the familiar landscape, which now seemed imbued with a new, mysterious depth.
Not just a benchwarmer anymore. The thought, once a triumphant declaration, now carried a weight of uncertainty. He had achieved his dream of playing, of proving his worth. But it had come with a price: a system that controlled him, a dangerous past he had unearthed, and now, the chilling realization that he was part of something much larger, a game with other, unknown players.
He stared at his outstretched hand, and the blue screen, now stable but softly glowing, materialized in his palm. It displayed one final, cryptic message, its stark words a promise and a warning for the path ahead.
[Main System Connected]"National Tournament Mode - Locked until Level 10"
The screen faded, leaving only the image burned into his mind. National Tournament Mode. A level beyond regional competitions, a stage where he would presumably confront other users, other 'products' of the VolleyGod System. He was no longer just fighting for a spot on a high school team; he was being groomed for something far grander, far more dangerous.
Who created this system? Was it truly a rogue AI from the "Reiwa Cyber Initiative," or was someone still pulling the strings? How many other users were there? Were they allies or rivals? Was Renji one of them? And what would happen when he reached Level 10, when the "National Tournament Mode" unlocked?
The answers were shrouded in mystery, waiting to be uncovered. Kazuki Shōra, the "Last Benchwarmer," had indeed changed his status. But this was only the beginning. His journey had just truly begun. And the challenges ahead, he knew, would be far more daunting than anything he had faced on the court so far. He tightened his grip on the railing, watching the last sliver of sun dip below the horizon. The game was on.