The Strategy Group's Victory, the Blind Bug, and the Only Solution

After this, the game's style changed drastically.

It wasn't the satisfying rout Lu Ren had imagined. Although we were temporarily ahead, the "hot-tempered setter" and "orange-haired decoy" on the other side seemed to have loaded some kind of patch, and their coordination showed a bizarre, exponential increase.

Kageyama Tobio no longer fixated on passes that were fast for the sake of speed. He began to force himself to adapt to Hinata's chaotic, unmethodical running. And that guy Hinata was like a monster with a locked stamina bar; regardless of whether his previous runs had been meaningful, he would still sprint to the net with all his might on the next ball.

"Bang!"

Another Monster Quick Attack.

The ball slammed down by Lu Ren's feet and bounced toward the ceiling.

Lu Ren stared at the mark on the floor, his mouth twitching. On that last play, Lu Ren had clearly seen the trajectory, and his brain had sent the command to "step back with his left foot and crouch," but his body felt like a cheap controller, with a 300-millisecond delay.

"Can you only watch and not receive? Are you a commentator on the sidelines?" Tsukishima Kei walked past Lu Ren and added coldly.

"Shut up, I'm adjusting the delay," Lu Ren rubbed his numb forearm, inwardly lamenting.

Sawamura Daichi's "unshakeable mountain" defense was indeed not something that could be learned by reading a couple of strategy guides. It was built from countless received balls, a muscle memory formed through sheer repetition, a genuine "high defense stat." Lu Ren, on the other hand, was like a level one character with an omniscient cheat enabled; he knew exactly what skill the boss was about to use and even stood in the safe zone beforehand, but because his gear was too trash, he lost half his health from the skill's residual waves.

The score remained tight.

18 to 16.

20 to 19.

Every time they managed to pull ahead, Kageyama and Hinata would use those unreasonable quick attacks to catch up. Although the failure rate was still high—sometimes Kageyama's set was too high, sometimes Hinata swung and missed—a single successful play, a spike with virtually no reaction time, could severely damage morale.

What was worse, Tanaka Ryūnosuke was also on fire. Once this guy got into his zone, he could blast the ball over even against a triple block. Lu Ren's pathetic receiving skills were a disaster scene against these powerful spikes with intense spin.

"Nice shot—!!"

Hinata scored again. He landed and excitedly clenched his fist, but I noticed a hint of frustration mixed into his expression.

Several times, after the Monster Quick Attack ended, when he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw wasn't an empty floor, but Lu Ren's figure already there like a ghost.

Even though Lu Ren often sent the ball flying out, or received it weakly, Lu Ren was there.

For a wing spiker eager to spike for a point, there was nothing more disgusting than thinking you'd landed a killing blow, only to open your eyes and find your opponent squatting at the landing spot with a constipated expression.

"Let me open my eyes, Kageyama!" Hinata yelled at the net. "If I can see, I can dodge that guy!"

"Shut up, idiot!" Kageyama shouted back, wiping sweat from his brow. "Opening your eyes now will only distract you! As long as the ball isn't down, jump with all your might!"

Lu Ren watched the scene, silently thinking: Those hot-blooded anime protagonists are so unrealistic. It's a game that requires precise control, yet they insist on blind play. But thanks to this setup, I wouldn't have lasted this long either.

"Match point," Tsukishima Kei's voice pulled me back to reality.

The score was 24 to 23.

We were one point ahead, but the serve was theirs.

Kageyama's serve.

He was radiating killing intent right now; just standing at the baseline, the oppressive aura of a "genius" washed over me.

"I absolutely have to win this point."

Kageyama took his run-up, jumped, and hit the ball.

The ball was extremely fast, heading straight for the back corner.

"Out!" Lu Ren yelled, judging the arc of the toss.

Yamaguchi Tadashi had intended to dodge, but hearing Lu Ren's shout, he instinctively flinched. The ball grazed his sleeve and slammed hard out of bounds.

"Beep—!"

The whistle blew.

25 to 23.

The match was over.

The entire gymnasium fell silent, leaving only heavy panting.

"We... we won?" Yamaguchi Tadashi seemed to still be in disbelief, staring blankly at the referee.

Lu Ren let out a long sigh, his knees feeling weak as he slid down the wall. This wasn't a volleyball match; it was a thirty-minute QTE reaction test. My CPU was about to fry, and my thigh muscles were already teetering on the brink of rebellion.

"This game... is too hardcore..." Lu Ren looked up at the ceiling, stars dancing before his eyes.

Across the net, Hinata and Kageyama remained frozen in their final poses, unmoving for a long time. They had lost. For these two ridiculously competitive guys, losing to a hastily assembled team was worse than death.

Sawamura Daichi walked onto the court.

According to their previous bet, if they lost, they couldn't add to the Volleyball Club.

The atmosphere was heavy. Tanaka Ryūnosuke didn't dare speak loudly either, looking at the two first years with a worried expression.