Midnight — Pier 7
Day 32
Broken beyblades littered the concrete.
Red fragments. Blue shards. Silver dust. Scattered across Zone 4 like a graveyard no one bothered to clean. Some pieces still identifiable—a cracked fusion wheel here, a shattered spin track there. Others just dust.
I didn't count them. Didn't care to.
My current opponent stared at the fragments spreading from where his beyblade had just exploded. A kid. Maybe nineteen. His launcher hung loose in his hand.
"That was—" His voice cracked. "That was everything I had."
Black Dranzer returned to my palm. Still spinning. Still warm.
Still hungry.
"You lost," I said.
He looked up. Eyes wet. "You didn't have to destroy it."
I didn't respond. Just turned away.
The crowd parted silently. No one spoke. No one met my eyes.
They called me "Bladebreaker" now. Whispered it. Feared it.
My pointer buzzed. BEYPOINT TRANSFER: +2,800. CURRENT TOTAL: 42,300
Forty-seven matches. Forty-seven victories. Zero losses.
I felt absolutely nothing.
A woman leaned against a support column in the shadows. Scarred knuckles. Dark eyes. Watching.
I walked past her toward Zone 7.
The next match was waiting.
***
Twenty Minutes Later
The veteran was already positioned when I arrived.
Mid-thirties. Lean. Grey threading through dark hair. His eyes were calm. Professional. The kind of calm that came from surviving hundreds of underground matches.
Zurafa.
Everyone knew the name. Longest-active underground blader. Never won championships. Never lost control. Just survived. Match after match. Year after year.
His beyblade rested in his palm—crimson fusion wheel, black spin track, edges filed down to aggressive points. Illegal modifications that gleamed under harsh lights.
Heat Camelopardalis. High attack type modified for hit-and-run.
The crowd was larger. Word traveled fast. "Bladebreaker versus Zurafa." Money changed hands. Voices low, urgent.
Zurafa raised his launcher. Calm. Steady.
I raised mine.
Someone shouted. "Three! Two! One!"
"Let it rip!"
***
Both beyblades launched.
Heat Camelopardalis hit concrete and immediately circled—outer ring, high-speed orbit. The filed edges whistled. Sharp. Fast.
Black Dranzer took the center. Anchored.
Zurafa attacked.
His bey dove. Clean angle. Perfect timing.
Contact.
The collision sent both beyblades ricocheting. Heat Camelopardalis recovered instantly. Repositioned. Attacked again.
Another collision. Another separation.
Zurafa's strategy was obvious. Hit-and-run. Chip damage. Wear me down through attrition.
It should have worked.
Pressure built behind my eyes. Heat. Weight. The air felt thick.
Black Dranzer pulsed.
End this.
Heat Camelopardalis dove again.
"Volcano Emission."
Black Dranzer erupted.
Dark fire—oily, light-swallowing flames—exploded around my beyblade. Shadows spread across the concrete. The air dimmed.
Heat Camelopardalis tried to evade.
Too slow.
The impact sent the crimson bey flying. It hit concrete hard. Scraped. Lost rotation.
Zurafa's calm cracked. His eyes widened.
Heat Camelopardalis recovered. Barely. Resumed orbit—slower, wobbling.
The cold started at my spine.
Not power. Absence. A hole opening where warmth used to be.
Sound died. Complete silence. I could see mouths moving. Couldn't hear anything.
Just my heartbeat. Thump. And Black Dranzer's rotation. Thump.
The lights bled grey-purple.
My hands moved without decision. Stance shifted.
Heat Camelopardalis charged—desperate.
"Crimson Fang!"
The filed edges flared red. Superheated metal. And above it—translucent, flickering—a massive giraffe-like creature with geometric patterns, serpentine neck, eyes burning defiant.
The avatar of a survivor.
Black Dranzer answered.
The phoenix manifested.
Not translucent. Not incomplete.
Solid.
Wings spread wide—feathers like black glass, edges sharp enough to cut space. Body wreathed in dark fire that consumed light. Beak curved cruel. Eyes burning cold crimson, pupils dilated and fixed.
The creature's presence was massive. Oppressive. Wrong.
Whole. Complete. Ravenous.
The phoenix dove.
Not at the beyblade.
At the avatar itself.
It struck dead center.
The giraffe-creature didn't shatter—it dissolved. Smoke hit by wind. Fragments scattering into nothing.
Consumed.
Heat Camelopardalis hit concrete. The fusion wheel exploded. Pieces flying. Spin track twisted. Performance tip shattered.
Red dust settled.
Zurafa stared at his empty hand.
***
The crowd went silent.
Zurafa stood in Zone 7, staring at the red dust that used to be Heat Camelopardalis. His launcher hung loose. Empty.
Behind Kai, the phoenix loomed.
Wings spread across the warehouse ceiling. Each feather dripping shadow. The creature's beak opened slowly—revealing void. Nothing inside. Just hunger.
Zurafa looked up. At Kai. At the thing behind him.
His professional calm shattered completely.
"I lost." Voice tight. Controlled. Hands raised. "I lost. Match is over—"
Kai didn't move.
The phoenix's head turned. Slow. Deliberate.
Fixed on Zurafa.
Not on empty space where the beyblade had been.
On the man.
"The match is OVER—" Zurafa's voice cracked. Desperate.
Black Dranzer shot forward.
Toward Zurafa's outstretched hand. Toward the launcher gripped there. Toward flesh.
The phoenix followed. Wings spread wider. Beak opening.
Someone screamed.
Zurafa stumbled backward. Fell.
The phoenix descended—
Weight slammed into Kai from the side.
***
I hit the ground hard.
Concrete against my ribs. Air exploded from my lungs. Someone's weight crushing down—arms pinned, knee driving between my shoulder blades.
The cold shattered.
Sound rushed back. Shouting. Running. The warehouse lights snapped from grey-purple to harsh white.
Black Dranzer clattered across concrete. Still spinning weakly.
"Stay DOWN." The woman's voice. Scarred knuckles. Her grip was iron. "Stay the fuck down."
I tried to move. Couldn't.
The phoenix was gone. Vanished like it had never existed.
Across the warehouse—Zurafa pressed against a column. Eyes wide. Trembling.
The crowd scattered. Maybe a dozen left. All pressed to the walls. Staring at me like I might detonate.
My pointer buzzed weakly. BEYPOINT TRANSFER: +4,200. CURRENT TOTAL: 46,500
The woman's knee dug deeper. "I said DOWN."
Darkness pulled at the edges of my vision.
Then nothing.
***
I woke on cold concrete.
Vision swam. Blurred. Slowly focused.
The warehouse was nearly empty. Sodium light through grimy windows—orange, sickly. Late. Or early. I couldn't tell.
The woman sat on a broken crate five meters away. Watching.
"You tried to attack him after he forfeited," she said flatly.
I sat up slowly. Everything hurt. "I don't—"
"You don't remember. I know." She stood. Tossed a water bottle. I caught it. "That's the problem."
I drank. Tasted copper. Blood from somewhere in my throat.
"Zurafa?" I asked.
"Gone. Terrified." She crossed her arms. "You know what you looked like?"
I didn't answer.
"Not human." She stepped closer. "I've seen Dark Resonance before. My brother had it. Bit-beast type—wolf. Started small. Little bursts. He thought he could control it."
She pulled up her sleeve.
Scars. Deep. Layered. Not from beyblades. From claws. From teeth.
"He attacked me during a match. Didn't recognize me. Didn't care. Just saw prey." She lowered her sleeve. "He's in a psychiatric facility now. Been there four years. Still thinks he's fighting. Still hears the wolf."
Silence pressed down.
"You're going the same way," she said quietly. "And you know it."
I looked at Black Dranzer in my palm. It pulsed. Calm. Patient.
"I'm in control," I said.
"No." She didn't move. She just stared at me, her eyes hard and hollow. "You're not."
Silence pressed down on the warehouse. I sat there for a long time, listening to the hum of the sodium lights.
Forty-eight matches. Forty-eight victories.
Three thousand five hundred beypoints from Battle Bladers.
I stood, my body protesting with every inch of movement. I began the long walk toward the exit, my boots echoing against the concrete.
The woman hadn't moved from the crate. She watched me pass—not with fear, but with a cold, tragic recognition. Like she was watching her brother walk away all over again, heading toward a door he could never come back through.
I didn't look back. I couldn't.
Above, in the warehouse rafters, something shifted in the shadows.
A figure. Watching.
I didn't see it. I didn't feel it. I just walked out into the pre-dawn darkness.
Alone.
***
Home — 3:47 AM
The apartment was dark.
I flipped the light. Fluorescent bulbs flickered white.
The kitten's food bowl was empty. Water dish dry.
When had I last fed it?
I couldn't remember.
"Hey," I called quietly.
Silence.
I found it in the laundry room. Wedged between wall and washing machine. In the dark. In the smallest space it could find.
Eyes wide. Ears flat. Trembling.
I knelt. Reached out. "It's okay—"
The kitten screamed.
Not a hiss. A scream. High-pitched. Desperate. Primal.
The sound something makes when it thinks it's going to die.
I froze.
The kitten pressed harder against the wall. Wouldn't stop shaking. Wouldn't stop making that sound.
I pulled back. Stood.
Closed the door.
Left it there.
Maybe I'd feed it later.
Maybe.
***
Bathroom — 4:03 AM
The mirror showed a stranger.
Grey eyes. Hollow cheeks. Black veins at the temples like cracks in porcelain.
I leaned closer.
The stranger leaned too.
"This is strength," I said.
He stared back. Silent. Accusing.
"I'm in control."
The words sounded like lies.
Black Dranzer pulsed from the counter. Calm. Satisfied.
This is what you chose.
My fist hit the glass.
The mirror exploded. Shards everywhere. Blood welled immediately across split knuckles.
Pain flared hot and sharp. I didn't care. It felt like a relief in this moment. It was the only thing that felt real.
I crouched, breathing hard, and picked up the largest shard.
The stranger looked back.
I didn't recognize him at all.
Then the angle shifted.
Black Dranzer hovered in the reflection—spinning slowly, impossibly close. Its shadow cut across my face, swallowing my eyes.
Crack
End Chapter 9
A/N: Hope you guys liked this chapter! It went in a slightly different direction than I originally planned, so I'd love to hear what you think. If you're enjoying the story so far, please consider leaving a review—it really keeps me motivated and helps me figure out what's actually working. Thanks for reading!