His feet pounded against the pavement, the night air sharp in his lungs. Every breath came like fire, every step heavier than the last. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
The kids… they're waiting. They're scared. I can't let anything happen to them.
Suddenly—
[CONGRATULATIONS! You won the battle. Please choose your reward.]
A glowing system window burst into his vision, floating inches before his eyes.
"Hah—damn it!" Axamu nearly tripped, his heart racing. Sweat stung his eyes, but the window clung to his sight like a curse.
He forced his gaze ahead, muscles screaming as he pushed faster. But the system pulsed brighter, the words overlapping.
[Please choose your reward.]
[Please choose your reward.]
[Please choose your reward.]
His chest tightened. His teeth ground.
The glowing box flickered, distorting into jagged letters.
[C-H-OO-SS-E-YO-UR-RE-WAR-D.]
Axamu's face twisted in fury, but he refused to slow.
"NOT NOW!!" he shouted aloud, voice cracking in the night.
The words echoed down the empty street, but he didn't care. His legs kept moving, every step carrying him closer to the address on the note.
---
Axamu staggered into the address written on the note, lungs burning, body drenched in sweat. What greeted him was not a warehouse, nor a hideout, but a Beyblade X stadium standing under pale flickering lights.
And in front of it—
the man in the hoodie and mask.
The same silent figure from the shop.
Axamu clenched his fists, his voice rough and desperate.
"Wh… hah… where… where are the kids?"
No reply.
The silence pressed harder on him than any answer could. Rage flared through his exhaustion, his throat burning as he screamed:
"WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY?!"
The masked man slowly lifted his hand. In it, a strange device. The screen lit up with a distorted bzzt before forming into a clear image.
Axamu froze.
On the screen—he saw the kids.
Each one of them. At home. Safe. Sleeping peacefully in their beds, their faces calm and untroubled.
"…Wh—what?" Axamu's voice cracked in disbelief. He staggered one step closer, eyes widening.
His heart pounded violently. His mind spun in circles.
Then what the hell was that note for? Why trick me into running here like this?
The masked man didn't speak. He only tilted his head, the dim light catching the blank sheen of his mask. It was as if he was studying Axamu's confusion, feeding off it, savoring every second of his disarray.
Axamu's breathing grew ragged, anger and fear twisting into something heavier: suspicion.
If the kids are safe… then what does this guy want with me?
The silence lingered, unbearably heavy. The stadium loomed before him like a stage prepared for something far more sinister.
---
The air was heavy. The stadium was silent, filled only by Axamu's ragged breathing.
The masked figure hadn't moved since showing the children safe in their beds. Not a word. Not a sound. Only silence.
Then, at last… movement.
From within his cloak, the figure raised his hand and revealed a Beyblade.
Axamu's breath caught.
The bey looked wrong. Too wrong. Its design was blacker than obsidian, its edges jagged, sharp like broken glass. In the center, the sticker glared back—
a white-and-black eye, cold and staring, locked directly on him.
A shiver climbed Axamu's spine. His chest tightened.
That… thing… what is that?
The masked figure tilted the bey forward, as if offering a challenge.
Axamu's eyes widened in realization.
"…So that's it."
For a moment he said nothing, only glaring. Then he scoffed and turned away, forcing his legs to move.
"Forget it. I don't have time for this."
His footsteps echoed as he made for the exit.
One step. Two steps.
And then—
A familiar bzzt.
The system window blinked into existence right before his eyes.
> CONGRATULATION! You won the battle. Please choose your reward.
Axamu froze. His stomach sank.
"…Not now."
But before he could dismiss it, the window began to distort. The edges twisted, fractured, and glitching violently.
"…Huh?" Axamu's voice trembled.
Then the window snapped into a new form, red letters slamming into his vision:
> URGENT QUEST!
WIN OR LOSE.
REWARD: YOU WILL LOSE EVERYTHING.
His entire body went cold. His knees nearly buckled.
"…Lose… everything?"
The words carved into him like blades. His heart thundered, sweat dripping down his face. His throat closed, unable to breathe.
Slowly, almost unwillingly, Axamu turned back.
The masked man had moved.
He reached up with pale, trembling fingers—gripped the mask—
and pulled it away.
Axamu's blood froze.
Where there should have been a mouth—nothing. Smooth, silent skin. Glitching where it met the air, distorting like broken pixels. His left eye flickered, fragmenting between white, black, and static. His hair twisted unnaturally, glitching in and out of existence, never holding its shape for more than a second.
And then—despite having no mouth—
he smiled.
Not with lips. Not with teeth. But Axamu felt it. A presence, a mockery. A grin that cut into his mind, telling him: you cannot escape me.
Axamu staggered back, terror choking him. His pulse screamed inside his skull.
This… this isn't human.
The glitching figure tilted his head, the eerie bey glinting in his hand, the eye at its center staring with unblinking malice.
Axamu's breath quickened. His vision blurred. His body screamed at him to run—
but there was nowhere left to go.
And in that suffocating silence—
the figure's presence alone mocked him.