The rhythm had reached its brink.
Both Beyblades—Pegasus and Phoenix—spun relentlessly, their rotations no longer just grinding against the stadium, but gripping the very pulse of the ground beneath them.
Gingka's scarf whipped wildly as he adjusted his grip, his heart pounding not from exhaustion, but sheer exhilaration. "Aarav… you're not backing down. Then, it's time."
Kenta's fists were clenched tight, his voice barely a whisper. "He's going for it…"
Madoka's eyes widened as she observed Pegasus soaring into the air.
"He's aiming for a high-speed aerial strike… but that's not a reckless jump. He's syncing it to disrupt rhythm mid-descent."
Gingka's right foot shifted, his arm locking into position as Pegasus responded to his will. The blue Beyblade spiraled outward, catching the edge of the stadium, using the cracked ridges as a makeshift ramp.
In a flash, Pegasus was airborne.
Its body spun fiercely as it arced high into the air, the spiraling winds it left in its wake scattering debris across the stadium.
Gingka's voice rang out—not as a shout, but as a command laced with rhythm.
"Pegasus! Star Blast Attack!"
The moment Pegasus reached its peak height, it dove downward, aiming to strike Phoenix from above with a concentrated rotational burst designed to shatter the core rhythm.
But Aarav didn't flinch.
His fingers tightened around his launcher belt, his stance lowering slightly, as Phoenix responded with precision.
Phoenix's rotations compressed, its spin axis tightening to an almost needlepoint balance.
Aarav didn't speak aloud.
This was Phoenix Anger.
A counter not born from flashy power-ups, but from rhythm reversal. A move designed to disrupt rotational flow at the lowest point—the Beyblade's base contact.
As Pegasus descended with its Star Blast, Phoenix's spin shifted ever so slightly.
The crimson Blade didn't aim to absorb the impact.
It aimed to slice through it.
The moment Pegasus neared, Phoenix launched forward, striking at a sharp upward diagonal, aiming to clip Pegasus from its lower side—intending to kick it out of the stadium using its own descending momentum.
The collision was instant.
But it didn't result in a burst.
It didn't send either Blade flying.
Instead, the clash created a compressed energy ring, a force that wasn't visible as flames or lightning, but as a pulse that split the air itself.
The force of the collision shot a beam of light straight into the sky, slicing through clouds, a visible streak tearing across the blue expanse.
In that beam, for a fleeting moment, the silhouettes appeared.
A Phoenix with wings of molten ember, its form forged from the relentless rhythm of precision.
A Pegasus, wild and free, its wings spread wide as it charged through the storm.
The two spirits collided mid-air, their clash silent but immense, as if the sky itself had to hold its breath.
Back in the stadium, Kenta shielded his eyes, unable to look away. "Aarav… he's not losing!"
Madoka's jaw tightened, eyes flickering between data points her mind couldn't process. "No one's losing… this is a battle of wills."
On the ground, the two Beyblades remained spinning.
Pegasus had landed near the stadium's edge, its spin still sharp, though its rotational pattern had narrowed.
Phoenix stood firm in the center, its rotations calm, but its spin field had visibly compressed, flickering with faint embers.
Both Bladers remained locked in their stances.
Gingka was the first to exhale, a grin spreading across his face.
"That was… insane."
Aarav's expression remained composed as he reached down, fingers brushing the cool metal of Phoenix. His grip was steady, precise, but his knuckles flexed slightly as he holstered the Beyblade at his waist.
Their shirts were torn at the seams, gloves frayed, and dust clung to their skin. But neither looked like they had lost.
Because neither had.
Their Beyblades still spun.
Neither had burst.
Neither had toppled.
The battle had reached its crescendo—and the outcome wasn't meant to be decided today.
Gingka approached, slinging Pegasus back onto his belt.
"You're sharp, Aarav. I'll crack that rhythm next time."
Aarav gave a faint nod, adjusting his torn sleeve. "I'll be waiting."
The crowd that had gathered wasn't loud. They stood in quiet awe, whispers trickling through them.
"Who are these two?"
"I've never seen a battle like that… and they didn't even shout."
Madoka, still processing, muttered, "This isn't the last time they'll clash."
Kenta's grin was pure admiration. "That's Aarav for you. Silent, but unbreakable."
As the dust settled and the light streak in the sky faded, Gingka and Aarav parted ways—not as rivals, not as friends, but as Bladers who had silently acknowledged each other's spin.
And Metal City had found its new rhythm.