The stadium's pulse was no longer subtle.
Every rotation, every clash between Pegasus and Phoenix sent pressure waves crawling up the cracked concrete, vibrating through the rusted rails and spilling into the surrounding streets.
The city hadn't noticed yet.
But those standing close—Kenta, Madoka, and a few passing Bladers—were already frozen at the stadium's edge, watching.
Pegasus stormed into another spiral, its wheels carving deeper into the stadium's surface. Gingka's grip was firm, but his grin stretched wider.
"He's not budging, huh? Then let's see how far your balance holds, Aarav."
Pegasus' movements weren't wild lunges anymore. Gingka had shifted tactics. He was using the stadium's imperfect shape—the cracks, the dips—to create a rotational vortex. Every time Pegasus hit the outer walls, it rebounded with more speed, tightening the assault trajectory.
From above, it looked like a blue comet spiraling into the eye of a crimson storm.
Aarav's eyes followed every shift, his mind processing the subtle vibrations through his boots.
"He's not forcing brute impact anymore. He's trying to tilt the rhythm."
Phoenix, sitting calmly in the center, wasn't dodging. It didn't need to.
Aarav's fingers, resting gently on his launcher belt, made the smallest tilt—barely a twitch.
Phoenix's spin axis lowered, adjusting its weight distribution to absorb the spiraling assault like a gyroscope anchoring into the stadium's pulse.
Pegasus struck.
No bang. No spark.
Just a dull hum that reverberated outward, the vibration spreading like invisible shockwaves, rattling nearby windows.
Kenta's eyes widened. "They're not even using special moves, but the ground's shaking…"
Madoka's analytical mind was working overtime. "They're syncing their Beyblades with the stadium's natural vibration frequency. Every impact isn't wasted energy—it's redirected into stabilizing or disrupting rhythm. That's… that's next-level control."
Gingka, feeling the slight resistance, switched grip.
His spiral wasn't working.
Time to up the tempo.
"Pegasus, accelerate!"
Pegasus blurred—its frame becoming a streak of blue light as it charged at Phoenix, attacking from multiple angles in quick succession. The sound of each strike wasn't loud, but sharp, like steel snapping under tension.
Aarav's response was silent.
Phoenix began narrowing its spin radius.
Every time Pegasus struck, Phoenix's rotation thinned, adjusting to absorb the rotational force like a fluid, bending without breaking.
To the crowd, it looked as if Pegasus was storming endlessly, but Phoenix refused to move.
But that wasn't the reality.
Aarav was controlling the stadium.
He wasn't resisting Gingka's spiral.
He was anchoring to it.
Letting Pegasus's own momentum fuel Phoenix's counter-rotation stability.
Gingka's grin didn't fade. His heart raced, excitement surging with every second.
"He's good. Really good. But let's see how long you can keep this up."
Pegasus launched into a sudden leap, aiming a high-velocity aerial strike directly down at Phoenix.
The impact hit.
For a moment, it seemed Phoenix's axis would crack.
But Aarav, anticipating the shift, adjusted his stance. His right foot slid back, absorbing the feedback torque as his launcher hand tilted sharply, syncing Phoenix's internal weight ring to counter the destabilization.
The stadium groaned.
The cracked floor creaked as a ripple spread from the collision point.
Loose gravel around the arena began to rise, floating momentarily in the air, suspended by the frictional pressure vortex they had created.
Aarav's sleeve fluttered wildly. A seam tore near his shoulder, exposing part of his arm.
Gingka's scarf lashed behind him, the end threads fraying, his sleeves catching rips as torque feedback crawled up his forearms.
But neither of them flinched.
Neither spoke.
Their battle wasn't about words.
It was about spin.
More Bladers had gathered now, drawn by the strange atmosphere.
"Who are they?" a boy whispered, eyes wide.
"They're not using any special moves, but why does it feel like the whole ground's about to crack?" another muttered.
Kenta clenched his fists, eyes locked on the stadium.
"That's Aarav… but who's the other guy? He's not normal either."
Madoka, still analyzing, responds:
"Whoever he is, they're both beyond what I've seen."
Gingka and Aarav remained locked in their own world.
Gingka's mind raced.
"His Phoenix… it's not just enduring. It's reading me. Every spiral, every dash—I can't break his center control."
Aarav's thoughts mirrored the intensity.
"He's not reckless. He's testing angles. Adjusting mid-spin. His aggression is calculated."
But both knew the battle had reached its peak rhythm.
Neither could hold this tempo forever.
And both Bladers had no intention of stopping until they pushed it beyond limits.
Gingka's grip shifted subtly, his muscles coiling.
"I think it's time we see who blinks first."
Pegasus roared back into a wide spiral, preparing for one final assault.
Aarav's fingers flexed on his belt. His left foot slid back into a crouch, lowering his stance, anchoring himself.
Phoenix's spin shifted—its rotational axis tilting with micro-precision, its crimson glow deepening as its rhythm tightened.
The stadium floor cracked slightly at the rim as the rotational torque spiraled into its core.
The silent war of rhythm had reached its brink.
And the entire Metal City block surrounding them could feel it.