The clash didn't result in an explosive rebound—it was a hum, a vibration that rippled outward, barely visible but deeply felt.
Kyoya's grin widened. "Still standing, huh?"
He angled Leone again, pushing into a wide spiral, building momentum.
Madoka's eyes narrowed. "Kyoya's using the stadium's cracks to rebound Leone's spin into unpredictable attack angles. He's not fighting Aarav's rhythm head-on—he's slicing at its edges."
Leone struck again—this time from a sharper side angle.
Phoenix tilted mid-spin, redirecting the force into a rotational flow rather than resisting.
Aarav's fingers adjusted slightly on his launcher belt.
Kyoya noticed.
"Oh? You felt that one. Don't tell me your calm's cracking already?"
But Aarav's face remained unreadable.
Inside, his focus was razor-sharp.
"He's not reckless. He's channeling wild patterns to strain the rhythm. I need to narrow Phoenix's axis further."
Leone didn't let up.
Kyoya was relentless, pushing Leone into tighter spirals, using the stadium's flaws as natural attack points.
Every impact wasn't meant to burst Phoenix—it was designed to shave off fractions of its spin control.
The environment reacted.
Dust lifted with every clash, the air shifting into turbulent currents.
The crowd was silent, their eyes flicking between the wild storm of Leone and the unyielding center hold of Phoenix.
Madoka's voice cut through. "This isn't brute force. Kyoya's trying to force Phoenix into over-adjustments. The more Aarav micro-corrects, the more his spin pressure depletes."
Gingka leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "But Aarav's not the type to flinch."
Kyoya's smirk sharpened. "Let's see how long your rhythm holds."
He angled Leone for a new pattern.
Madoka's eyes widened. "He's building up for a Storm Breaker!"
Leone rebounded off a stadium ridge, launching into a high-velocity spiral, its orbit tightening with each loop. The friction against the ground compressed its spin torque, kicking up small debris as the air itself began to distort near the stadium floor.
"This is it," Kyoya muttered. "Time to tear through that silence."
Leone shifted into a steep angle, launching into an aerial rebound off the stadium edge.
It was no random jump.
Kyoya had crafted this.
Leone soared, its descent aimed to strike Phoenix's top surface at an off-axis angle, designed to flatten its rotational flow—a rhythm breaker from above.
Madoka's analysis was rapid. "If Aarav doesn't adjust Phoenix's axis now, the rotational dissonance will break his rhythm field!"
The crowd inhaled as Leone descended.
But Aarav's fingers moved.
It wasn't flashy. It wasn't loud.
He shifted Phoenix's axis into a compressed micro-orbit, tilting its spin at the precise moment to absorb Leone's impact vector, not head-on, but at a side redirection.
The collision wasn't an explosion.
It was a sonic pulse.
A ripple of compressed spin-pressure burst outward, slicing through the air.
Leone staggered mid-spin, not losing balance, but its storm flow hiccuped for a fraction of a second.
Kyoya's eyes flickered. "You absorbed it?"
Aarav didn't answer.
But Phoenix was still spinning, unyielding in the center.
Madoka's voice was sharp. "Aarav redirected the rotational feedback. He didn't resist it—he flowed through it. But his spin time is thinning. He can't sustain this forever."
Kyoya's grin didn't fade. If anything, it grew wilder.
"Not bad, Silent One. But I'm not done yet."
He reset Leone's path, shifting into a tighter compression spin.
Gingka's smirk widened. "This is getting good."
The next barrage was a rhythm war.
Leone charged again, but Aarav had shifted Phoenix's spin into a defensive orbit-lock, reducing unnecessary rotation shifts, conserving energy.
It was a test of who would blink first.
The storm.
Or the rhythm.