The commentator's voice boomed from the overhead speakers, charged with the kind of energy that could ignite the entire hall. "Three… two… one…"
Both of us moved in the same heartbeat, strings snapping back with a clean whine.
"Let it rip!"
The sound of impact came almost instantly. Snake burst from my launcher in a coiled arc, metallic edges catching the light, while Iron Fang Golem shot forward like it had been fired from a cannon. They met dead center in a bone-jarring collision that sent sparks dancing across the stadium floor.
The crowd erupted at the first hit, the echo of metal-on-metal carrying into the high rafters. Golem didn't hang back for a second—it slammed into Snake again, teeth-like ridges grinding against the Fusion Wheel with a force that made my grip tighten instinctively.
Ryoji wasn't wasting time. His launch had been perfectly tuned for his Beyblade's build low angle, full torque, and maximum forward aggression. Iron Fang Golem's Right Rubber Flat tip gave it insane acceleration, letting it close the gap before Snake could widen its coil.
Most players in my position would panic, backpedal mentally, try to dodge or push back with wild counters. I didn't. My stance stayed steady, my breathing even. I watched.
Every strike had a rhythm, even when the blader on the other side tried to hide it. Golem's attacks came in bursts—two rapid hits from the left, one from the right, then a micro-shift to force an angled collision. It was a destabilizing pattern, meant to jar my Beyblade into a wobble and bleed its stamina dry.
Snake took each impact and slid outward along the curve of the stadium wall, absorbing as much as it could without overcommitting to a return hit. I didn't give it the mental nudge to counter yet.
Ryoji's grin widened as he leaned slightly over his launcher grip, his voice carrying just enough for me to hear. "Not even fighting back? You're making this easy."
I ignored him. The connection with Snake pulsed in my chest like a second heartbeat. Every time Golem clipped its side, I could feel the weight shift, the loss of spin efficiency, the tiny gaps where its grip on the floor weakened. Those were the gaps I was waiting for.
Another slam from the left. Snake rode the momentum, circling wide and dipping toward the center. Golem turned sharply to pursue—exactly what I needed to see. Its speed was still vicious, but the force behind the hits had dropped by a fraction. Enough to tell me Ryoji was burning through energy faster than he realized.
A good player would recognize it. An overconfident one wouldn't.
I held my timing, letting Snake's path stay just a little unpredictable—wider coil here, tighter there, testing how fast Golem could track without breaking its own line.
Ryoji didn't notice. He was too focused on trying to land the next big hit.
Which meant the moment was getting close.
Ryoji's smirk sharpened as if he'd finally decided to stop playing. He twisted his launcher grip slightly, guiding Golem into a sharper intercept angle. The jagged Fusion Wheel caught Snake at its flank with a vicious upward hook, sending my Bey skidding up the stadium slope in a spray of sparks.
"Stone Break Impact!" His voice cut across the crowd, and Golem surged forward, the pattern of its attacks suddenly shifting. No more quick bursts—this was one full-force charge, every gram of its weight thrown into a sweeping arc.
The hit landed like a hammer blow. Snake slammed against the stadium wall so hard I felt the impact through my grip on the launcher. For a fraction of a second, my chest tightened—Snake's spin wobbled dangerously, one side dipping lower as if the next hit would throw it clean out.
Gasps rippled through the audience. Ryoji straightened, already wearing the look of someone who knew the match was over. "This is what happens when you bite off more than you can chew, rookie."
But my eyes were locked on Golem, not him. That last move had power, sure, but it also had a cost. The overextended sweep had taken a chunk out of its spin, and in the half-second afterward, I felt the shift through the connection—its rotations weren't as tight, the grip of its tip wasn't biting the stadium floor as hard.
He'd shown me his finisher. And it hadn't been enough.
My lips curved into the smallest of smiles. "That's all you've got?"
Ryoji's brow twitched, the first crack in his confidence since we'd started.
I inhaled once, slow and steady, pushing everything else out of my head—the crowd, the noise, even Ryoji's glare. My focus narrowed until it was just me, Snake, and the precise beat of its spin.
My voice came low, cold, and certain. "Abyssal Vortex."
The air seemed to change instantly. The normal hum of spinning metal deepened, and the sound of Snake's movement took on a layered tone, like two rhythms twisting together. Its path shifted into the coiling pattern I'd drilled over and over in secret.
Ryoji's smirk faltered completely now. "What___?"
Snake's rotations pulled tighter, its curve drawing inward, and the subtle shift in air pressure became something everyone could feel—a faint tug, like the pull of a passing train. The stadium's overhead lights dimmed slightly as if shadow had crept into the edges.
I could see it in my mind as clearly as if it were real: the abyssal serpent rising, body winding endlessly into the dark, scales shimmering with a dangerous light. The crowd must've seen something too, because the noise dipped into a stunned hush.
Golem tried to circle out, but the vortex's pull had already taken hold. Every attempt to break free just curved it back toward Snake's path.
And I wasn't about to let go.
The pull intensified. Even without touching Snake physically, I could feel the pressure building inside the vortex—like an invisible whirlpool tightening its grip on the stadium floor.
Iron Fang Golem fought it with everything it had. Ryoji leaned forward, his jaw tight, pushing his body into every micro-adjustment, trying to angle his Beyblade out of the spin path. But the more he fought, the worse it got—each shift only let Snake's coil hook deeper into his trajectory.
The crowd started to realize what was happening. Murmurs rippled across the stands, voices overlapping.
"What's with that pattern?"
"It's… pulling him in!"
Snake's movements became a blur of metallic shine, the dark lines between its Fusion Wheel and Energy Ring almost vanishing under the speed. The shadow effect in the air grew heavier, like the light itself was bending inward.
And then the vision hit me—clearer, sharper than ever before. The primordial serpent towered above the stadium, head dipping low, fangs glinting. Its endless body coiled in layers that spun faster than my eyes could track, the scales flashing with a dark, bluish gleam as if reflecting an abyss beneath the surface of the world.
Golem's heavy wheel clashed once more, but this time it wasn't an attack—it was a desperate shove. The vortex caught it mid-impact, flipping its own momentum against it.
I gave the mental push, the one I'd been holding back. Now.
Snake shot inward, cutting across Golem's side in a tight underhook. The pull magnified, dragging the opponent Bey into the center where the spin turbulence was strongest. The sound of metal grinding against air filled the hall, a pitch that made the back of my neck prickle.
Ryoji's teeth clenched. "No—!"
It was too late. The vortex spat Golem outward like it was slingshotted out of the bowl. The Beyblade smashed into the stadium wall with a metallic CRACK that echoed through the hall before it clattered to the floor outside the ring. A hairline crack spread from the point of impact on the stadium's surface, small but visible.
For a heartbeat, silence. Then the commentator's voice tore through the air.
"Out of the stadium! Winner—Ethan Kael!"
The BP display on the overhead screen shifted: 100 → 600 in bright green.
I exhaled slowly, letting the tension bleed from my shoulders. Snake was still spinning at the center of the stadium, slower now but steady, as if nothing had happened. I crouched to pick it up, feeling the faint warmth in the metal—the pulse that wasn't just from friction, but from that link between us.
The crowd's noise rose again, louder this time. Some were cheering, others just talking over each other, trying to make sense of what they'd just seen.
Across from me, Ryoji retrieved Golem without looking up. His jaw was set, his movements clipped. He muttered something under his breath I couldn't catch before walking off the platform.
I stayed where I was for a moment, Snake in my hand, letting the weight of the match sink in. The Abyssal Vortex wasn't just a move anymore—it had been tested, and it had held up against someone who knew how to break bladers fast.
This win wasn't luck. And it wasn't enough.
I had the BP now to enter the tournament. But if I wanted to keep winning there, I'd have to sharpen the Vortex until even bladers like Ryoji couldn't touch me.
The shadows in my mind faded as the stadium lights returned to normal. I slid Snake back into its case and stepped down from the platform.
One match down. The real climb was just beginning.