(At this moment, please listen to soundtrack song "D_Truth_R By Kohta Yamamoto" while reading this chapter for more intense feeling.)
Axamu's breath came uneven, his chest tight as if something invisible was crushing it from the inside.
His voice trembled.
"…What… do you mean…?"
The glitching figure's smile widened, fragments of its face tearing and reattaching as if reality itself couldn't decide what it was supposed to look like.
"Just as we said," it replied softly, almost kindly.
"The Watchers."
Its voice layered—many tones speaking at once.
"Real-life people who watch the Beyblade X anime."
The air around them distorted, lines bending, shadows flickering.
"We are the ones who gave you quests.
We are the ones who decided your penalties.
Your rewards.
What happens when you fail."
Its smile sharpened.
"And of course—when you were supposed to finally live peacefully, happily…"
"We took that too."
Axamu's knees felt weak.
"…Then why… me…?"
The words slipped out, fragile and broken.
The glitching man tilted its head.
"Are you asking why you were chosen?"
"Why you were teleported here?"
For a brief moment, its smile vanished.
Then it returned—far worse than before.
"Honestly?" it said, glitches exploding across its body.
"There is no reason."
Axamu's breath caught.
"It was random," the Watcher continued casually.
"Anyone could have been chosen."
"…Huh…?"
The sound barely escaped Axamu's throat.
"Oh?" the Watcher mocked.
"Did you think you were chosen because you were special?"
Suddenly, it laughed.
The entire tower shuddered as the laughter echoed, the darkness trembling as if reacting to its amusement.
"Of course not."
The glitches intensified, flashing images Axamu didn't want to see.
"You lived a boring life," it continued cruelly.
"Bullied since childhood."
"Bullied again at work."
"Even when you finally got a job, your coworkers trampled on you."
Axamu's teeth clenched.
"All you had were your parents," the Watcher sneered,
"and you were satisfied with that—
even though your real life was that miserable."
"Shut up."
Axamu's voice shook, but his eyes burned.
"And you thought you were special?" the Watcher pressed on.
"That's why you were chosen?"
Its laughter grew louder.
"No."
Axamu's fists tightened until his nails dug into his palms.
"Now, now~" the Watcher said suddenly, its tone shifting.
"We didn't come here just to talk."
Its face glitched violently, the smile twisting into something monstrous.
"We came because we want to know something."
The pressure in the air spiked.
"Why," it asked slowly,
"haven't you climbed the tower yet?"
The Watcher's face became terrifying—broken, distorted, wrong.
Axamu took an unsteady step back, heart pounding, eyes locked onto the thing before him.
The tower stood silent.
And somewhere deep inside Axamu, a realization began to form—
Whatever the Watchers truly wanted…
this was only the beginning.
---
The glitching man tilted its head again, fragments of its face lagging behind its movement.
"You know what?" it said calmly.
"All you've been doing is side quests."
Its voice echoed unnaturally through the hollow tower.
"You still haven't climbed the tower."
"Yet you keep gaining power."
The smile returned—thin, sharp.
"All of the Watchers have started to feel bored."
"You keep receiving good rewards."
"Status upgrades."
"Strong Beyblades."
Its tone grew colder.
"Now it feels like you're becoming… overpowered."
The air trembled faintly.
"For the Watchers," it continued,
"this is starting to look like a boring, predictable plot."
Its eyes glitched violently.
"You haven't even climbed the tower," it said,
"and yet you're already becoming a powerful Beyblader."
The smile widened.
"That's why," it concluded,
"this is no good."
Axamu snapped.
"Are you kidding me?"
His voice rang sharply through the darkness.
"I trying to survived!"
"All i want to go back home!"
"Not to became your toys!"
"I'm human," he said, breathing hard,
"and you—Watchers—you're humans too."
He stepped forward despite the pressure crushing his chest.
"Do you enjoy watching humans suffer?"
"Watching them get hurt—battle after battle?"
His voice cracked with rage.
"Is that fun to you?!"
Axamu shouted, his voice tearing through the tower—
"Are you even human?!"
Silence.
For a single second, the world froze.
No glitches.
No distortion.
Only Axamu's ragged breathing echoed faintly.
Then—
The atmosphere collapsed.
Reality shuddered violently as the space around them fractured, colors tearing, shadows screaming without sound.
The glitching man spoke.
"For you…"
Its voice layered, vast and heavy.
"We are Gods."
The tower warped.
The air screamed.
"You are nothing but a pawn we control," it continued,
"in this story of the world."
Axamu's vision blurred as pressure crushed down on him.
"You are just an extra," the Watcher said coldly.
"Not the main character."
Its smile turned absolute.
"Extras should listen."
"Extras should act like extras."
"Extras should not disobey the story."
Thunder roared outside as the tower shook violently.
"We gave you a system."
"We gave you power."
"Not so you could write your story—"
"But to make the story interesting."
The lightning flashed.
"In the end," the Watcher declared,
"you exist to be sacrificed for the main character's plot."
The pressure spiked—
Then vanished.
The thunder faded.
The glitches receded.
Axamu collapsed to one knee, gasping, lungs burning as if he had been drowning.
He sucked in air desperately, coughing, trembling.
Slowly…
he could breathe again.
But the words carved into his mind didn't fade.
Pawn.
Extra.
Sacrifice.
And as Axamu lifted his head, eyes shaking yet burning—
Something inside him had cracked.
Not in fear.
But in defiance.