The streets of X City blurred around him. Neon signs, laughing kids, the distant roar of Bey battles in alleyways — all of it became a haze as Axamu wandered without direction. His footsteps were heavy, dragging like iron chains.
Everywhere he looked, Beyblade was life. Posters of champions, children holding their launchers like sacred treasures, even vendors selling Beyblade-shaped snacks on the corner. The whole city vibrated with joy and passion for something he barely understood.
And I'm supposed to climb the Tower?
The thought hit him again like a cruel joke. His breathing grew shallow. He stumbled into a narrow alley, pressed his back to the wall, and slowly slid down until he sat on the cold ground.
"…Why me?" His voice was hoarse, broken.
He buried his face in his hands. The glow of the system still lingered faintly in his vision, the mocking 0% refusing to fade. His shoulders shook.
"I'm not a hero. I'm not even a Blader… I'm just… me. An office worker who wasted his life, scrolling on his phone, hiding from reality. And now… now I'm in a world where people live for spinning tops."
A bitter laugh escaped him, trembling with despair. His hands slid down, revealing his golden eyes — wet with tears he didn't even notice falling.
"…I can't do this," he whispered. "I'll never be like them. Not Kamen X, not Ryugu Chrome. I'm… nothing."
The silence pressed down on him like suffocating weight. People passed the mouth of the alley, their voices distant and distorted. For a moment, he wanted to disappear — to let this world swallow him whole.
But then…
A memory surfaced. Warm. Clear.
His mother's gentle smile as she set down his favorite food.
His father's tired but proud voice: "You've grown, Axamu. I'm proud of you, son."
The sound of laughter at the dinner table — a moment so ordinary, yet so precious.
Axamu's breath hitched. His eyes widened. The despair clinging to him cracked under the weight of something stronger.
"…Mom. Dad…" he muttered, his voice shaking.
He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.
"I… I can't give up. Not here. Not now. If the system says the reward for clearing the Tower is going back… then that's my path. No matter how much I hate it, no matter how impossible it feels—" His teeth clenched. "I'll climb. For them."
His trembling stopped. Slowly, he rose to his feet, the determination in his eyes burning away the tears.
The system interface flickered to life in front of him.
[Choose Your Beyblade X]
1. Blue Dran Sword
2. White Cobalt Dragoon
3. Purple Samurai Saber
Axamu stared at the options, his breath steadying. His gaze fell on the second choice.
"…White Cobalt Dragoon."
His finger pressed the selection.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
A flash of light surged in his palm. When it faded, he was holding it — a gleaming white Beyblade with streaks of cobalt blue, its design sharp and fierce like the wings of a dragon. In his other hand, a launcher materialized, its grip familiar yet new.
For a moment, all he could do was stare. Then, slowly, his hands tightened around it.
"This… this is mine now."
His reflection stared back at him from the metallic surface of the Beyblade. A boy of sixteen, long white hair, golden eyes burning with determination.
"I'll return," he whispered. "No matter what it takes. I'll see you again… Mom, Dad."
The faint hum of Cobalt Dragoon in his hand was like an oath.
And for the first time since entering this world… Axamu stood tall.