The last sliver of sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in a bruised palette of deep purples and oranges. On the school rooftop, the cool breeze offered little comfort against the storm brewing inside Kazuki. National Tournament Mode - Locked until Level 10. The words blazed behind his eyelids, eclipsing the fading light, echoing the detached, synthesized voice that had shattered his singular world: "You are not the only user."
He wasn't special. That truth, raw and unexpected, tasted bitter. All this time, he'd believed the VolleyGod System was his unique lifeline, a personal, clandestine miracle tailored just for him, the 'Number 0'. Now, it was just… a program. A shared secret, or perhaps, a shared burden. And Renji. Renji knew. The chilling certainty in the Nishikawa captain's eyes, the casual delivery of a truth that had rocked Kazuki to his core—it meant Renji was one of them. A user. A rival. And perhaps, a key to understanding this entire, bewildering reality.
A shiver, unrelated to the evening chill, ran down Kazuki's spine. If Renji, a player from a decent but not top-tier high school, was a user, how many more were there? Were they scattered across the country? Across the world? The "Reiwa Cyber Initiative," those hushed rumors of a failed military-grade athlete enhancement project, suddenly felt less like forgotten history and more like a live wire, still humming with dangerous energy. Was he merely a pawn in some grand, unseen game?
He remained on the rooftop long after darkness fully claimed the sky, the city lights below him a blur of indifferent humanity. He scrolled through the VolleyGod System interface, his enhanced cognitive speed allowing him to parse information at an astounding rate, searching for any hint, any clue about other users or the "National Tournament Mode." But the system remained a closed book on those fronts, offering only his personal skill tree and daily challenges. It was a singular path, relentlessly pushing him forward, regardless of the larger game.
The next morning, the air in the main gym felt different. Less charged with the electric thrill of a surprise victory, more with an awkward undercurrent. Coach Tanaka, usually gruff and predictable, seemed to be observing Kazuki with a new, almost hesitant curiosity. The team's usual banter was subdued, glances constantly darting his way. Kazuki was no longer 'Number 0'; he was 'the mystery'.
During drills, Coach Tanaka called him out directly. "Kazuki, switch with Shinya. Take the outside hitter position for these spike drills."
A ripple went through the team. Shinya, still recovering, was sidelined, but this was an explicit move to integrate Kazuki into an offensive role. Kaito shot Kazuki a sharp, unreadable glance. Hikaru, however, offered a small, encouraging nod. The new dynamics were palpable.
Kazuki took his position, the ball feeling familiar in his hands. He could feel the system humming, ready. His 'Jump Timing Lv.1' and nascent 'Air Balance' (the proto-skill from the Nishikawa match) made his approach fluid, almost effortless. He leaped, higher than he ever thought possible, his arm snapping down with a power that surprised even himself. THWACK! The ball rocketed past the blockers, hitting the floor with a satisfying smack.
"Good! Again!" Coach Tanaka barked, a flicker of genuine excitement in his eyes.
Kazuki spiked again and again, each one imbued with a precision and force that Ikaruga's regular hitters struggled to replicate. He wasn't just hitting; he was analyzing the block, finding the gaps, adjusting his angle mid-air. It was an intuitive process, guided by the system's subtle prompts, an uncanny blend of his improved 'Focus' and raw power.
But the shift didn't come without friction. Kaito, their setter, began to struggle. His sets to Kazuki were often too low, too fast, or too wide, betraying a subtle frustration, perhaps even a subconscious unwillingness to feed the new threat to the team's established order. Kazuki, recognizing the subtle sabotage, adjusted his approach, his jumps, his timing, compensating for Kaito's misdirection. He didn't complain, he simply adapted, his movements becoming an unspoken testament to his enhanced abilities.
Coach Tanaka, however, noticed. After a particularly egregious set that sent Kazuki scrambling, the coach blew his whistle. "Kaito! What was that? Your sets are sloppy today! Focus!"
Kaito flushed, muttering an apology. The tension was thick. It was clear that Kazuki's sudden rise was creating cracks in the team's comfortable, if unproductive, routine.
That night, alone in his room, the blue screen materialized, a soft beacon in the darkness.
"Daily Challenge: 'Ghost Blocker Maneuvers.' Objective: Successfully evade 500 randomized virtual blockers within 20 minutes. Success = Unlock 'Foresight Dodge Lv.1'. Failure = Temporary penalty to 'Cognitive Processing Speed'."
Foresight Dodge. This was different. Not about physical output, but about prediction, about outsmarting the opponent. The penalty, a reduction in his cognitive processing, was a stark reminder of the system's ruthlessness. It targeted his most prized new ability.
A field of shimmering, transparent figures materialized around him, shifting and moving with unnatural speed. They mimicked the movements of world-class blockers, their arms extending, their bodies twisting to cut off his imagined spikes. Kazuki moved, a whirlwind of feints and pivots, his enhanced peripheral vision and decision-making time calculating trajectories, finding the smallest opening. He was a shadow, dancing through a forest of phantom limbs. He found himself anticipating their movements even before they fully formed, a strange, almost prescient awareness guiding him. It was as if he could see a fraction of a second into their future.
Hours later, drenched in sweat but buzzing with exhilaration, he saw the triumphant chime.
"Challenge Completed: 'Ghost Blocker Maneuvers.' Skill Unlocked: Foresight Dodge Lv.1."
Below it, a new line appeared in his skill tree, branching off from 'Focus':
Focus: Zone Entry Lv.1 → Reaction Buffer Lv.2 → Foresight Dodge Lv.1 (Next: Tactical Read Lv.2)
The system then presented a new, unexpected notification.
"New System Feature: 'User Scan' enabled. Limited range."
Kazuki's heart leaped. User Scan? Could this be it? A way to detect other system users? He willed the system to show him how to use it. A simple interface appeared, like a radar, displaying a faint, pulsing dot in the distance. Below it, vague data: Signal detected. Low intensity. Approximately 20km northeast.
Northeast. That direction led towards the neighboring prefecture, where some of the stronger high school teams, including Nishikawa High, were located. Renji. Was it him? The thought sent a jolt of anticipation through him. This wasn't just about training anymore; it was about seeking out the unknown, about understanding the true scope of this mysterious game.
Over the next few days, Kazuki diligently followed his training, unlocking 'Air Balance Lv.2' and further refining his 'Zero Spin Serve'. His presence on the Ikaruga team became undeniable. Coach Tanaka, while still outwardly reserved, began to give him more playing time, integrating him into the main lineup during practice matches. Kazuki's precise receives, devastating serves, and newfound ability to evade blocks transformed Ikaruga's play. They still weren't a powerhouse, but they were no longer the easy win they once were. The team's morale, buoyed by their improved performance, began to soar. Kaito, slowly, grudgingly, started to deliver better sets to Kazuki, acknowledging his undeniable impact.
Kazuki spent every spare moment with the 'User Scan' feature. The dot remained, sometimes flickering, sometimes growing slightly stronger before fading. It was a tantalizing hint, a breadcrumb trail to a larger truth. He felt a growing impatience, a hunger to understand. The library, which he'd briefly visited before, suddenly felt inadequate. He needed more. He needed answers about the "Reiwa Cyber Initiative."
One afternoon, after school, driven by an insatiable curiosity, Kazuki decided to take a risk. He knew of a small, obscure internet forum for retired scientists and researchers, rumored to be a place where old government projects were sometimes "discussed" in veiled terms. Using his 'Cognitive Processing Speed' to sift through fragmented data and cross-reference obscure codes, he found an old, seemingly innocuous thread discussing "bio-interface theory."
He cautiously posted a query, using carefully worded phrases to avoid direct mention of "VolleyGod System" or "Reiwa Cyber Initiative." He asked about the long-term effects of "accelerated human optimization through bio-mechanical integration."
The response came surprisingly quickly, from a user with the handle "Old_Man_K."
"Kid, you're dabbling in dangerous territory. That old project… it was shut down for a reason. Bodies break. Minds shatter. Not just from physical strain, but from the sheer inability to integrate such rapid, artificial change. It's like pouring a river into a teacup. The cup overflows, and the pressure… the pressure eventually destroys the cup itself. Walk away while you still can."
The message sent a chill down Kazuki's spine, a stark validation of his deepest fears. "Bodies break. Minds shatter." It wasn't just hypothetical. It had happened. But the ominous warning only strengthened his resolve. He had tasted power, tasted recognition. He couldn't go back to being 'Number 0'. He had to understand. He had to conquer.
He sent a reply to "Old_Man_K," asking for more details, for any information that could help him. He waited, his phone clutched in his hand, but no further replies came. The thread went silent.
The next few weeks were a blur of intense training and internal matches. Ikaruga Daini High was preparing for the highly anticipated Spring Regional Tournament. The atmosphere was charged. Coach Tanaka had formally announced the starting lineup, and to everyone's surprise, especially Kaito's, Kazuki Shōra was named the new starting outside hitter, replacing the injured Shinya. It was a monumental shift, a recognition of his undeniable skills.
The resentment from some senior players simmered, but the majority of the team, especially the first-years and those who had been overlooked, rallied behind Kazuki. They saw in him a reflection of their own struggles, a symbol of hope.
One evening, as Kazuki was finishing his individual practice in the main gym, the 'User Scan' on his system flared. The dot was stronger, closer. Approximately 5km north. High intensity signal.
North was where one of their regional rivals, Seiyo High, was located. Seiyo was a volleyball powerhouse, a team known for their disciplined play and powerful ace spiker. Could Seiyo have a user? Was this a sign of another system-enhanced player he would face in the upcoming tournament? The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.
He tried to pinpoint the signal more precisely, but the system merely displayed: Signal fluctuating. Conflicting signatures. Conflicting? What did that mean? Multiple users in one location? Or a user whose system was unstable?
The Spring Regional Tournament loomed large on the horizon. The whispers about Ikaruga's sudden improvement had begun to circulate among other schools. Kazuki Shōra, "The Last Benchwarmer," was no longer a secret. He was a force to be reckoned with. And as he stood on the now-empty court, the blue glow of his system illuminating his determined face, he knew this tournament wouldn't just be about winning volleyball matches. It would be about uncovering the truth about the VolleyGod System, about facing other users, and about pushing his own limits, perhaps to a dangerous breaking point. The game was truly on.