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Chapter 17 - Chapter 17:Doji Confronts Kyoya

The city was still spinning, but not as it once did.

From the edge of a high rooftop, Doji stood silently, watching Metal City's pulse. The streets below, once dominated by the loud swagger of the Face Hunters, were subdued. The roar of battles had turned into murmurs. The so-called "Silent Blader" had shifted the city's flow, and now, chaos waited for a new command.

Doji's lips curved into a faint smile.

"They silenced the King," he murmured. "But storms don't vanish. They just need a new arena."

He turned away from the skyline, his long coat fluttering, and descended the metal stairwell. His steps were measured, precise, like a conductor walking to the podium before an orchestra.

At the outskirts of Metal City, a group gathered in an abandoned warehouse — a hideout.

The Face Hunters.

Their usual arrogance was missing. Even Benkei, the loudest of them all, sat in silence, his fists clenched as he stared at his Bull Launcher.

Kyoya stood apart from them, near a shattered window, his arms crossed, eyes distant. Leone rested clipped at his side, but its spin today was still. His posture hadn't changed. His pride hadn't bent. But the city had changed around him.

"Boss..." Benkei's voice broke the silence, uncertain. "They're saying you're finished. That... that the storm's over."

Kyoya didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained locked onto the distant skyline, the very city that now dared to whisper his downfall.

"The city's loudmouths can bark all they want," Kyoya said, his voice low. "But barking doesn't change who rules."

Benkei wanted to believe that. He truly did. But the weight of their loss to Aarav had shaken the pack. And then—

A slow clap echoed through the warehouse.

"Beautiful words. But empty without spin."

The Face Hunters turned sharply as Doji stepped into the light, his smirk sharp, his gaze dissecting.

Kyoya's eyes narrowed. "You're bold to step here."

Doji ignored the tension, walking leisurely as if the space belonged to him.

"I see a lion that's lost his roar," Doji mused, glancing at the Face Hunters. "And a pack that doesn't know what to do without it."

Benkei stepped forward, his usual bravado resurfacing. "Who do you think you are—?!"

Kyoya raised a hand, silencing Benkei with a single motion.

"I didn't lose my roar. I just don't waste it on weaklings."

Doji smiled wider. "Good. Because I'm not here to hear you roar. I'm here to cage it. Refine it."

Kyoya's fists tightened. "I don't spin in anyone's cage."

Doji's gaze gleamed. "Every storm needs an arena to truly spin. And I have one big enough for your wildness. But first—" he unclipped his Beyblade.

"Let's see if your storm can spin outside of its own noise."

Kyoya's smirk returned, sharp and dangerous.

"So be it."

The air in the warehouse grew heavy.

Doji stood calmly, Dark Wolf resting on his launcher, while Kyoya's wild grin widened as he unclipped Leone.

The Face Hunters instinctively stepped back, forming a silent perimeter around them. None dared interrupt.

"3…"

Kyoya's stance lowered, feral, like a beast ready to pounce.

"2…"

Doji's grip was light, relaxed, his posture unshaken.

"1…"

Benkei's breath hitched.

"Let it rip!"

The ripcords snapped.

Leone launched like a beast unleashed, spinning with wild, untamed force, tearing through the warehouse air.

Dark Wolf followed, its rotation calm, but its presence undeniable as it glided onto the stadium floor with precise control.

Kyoya's grin widened. "Leone, bring the storm."

Doji's smirk remained faint. "Let's test how long a storm lasts against rhythm."

Leone roared across the stadium, spiraling aggressively toward Dark Wolf, its gale-force rotation distorting the air itself.

Dark Wolf met it head-on, not with force, but with a cutting precision that sliced through the wild current.

And then—

The two Beyblades clashed.

Metal slammed against metal.

Sparks flared.

The sound wasn't a simple collision—it was a crackling ripple, as if the entire warehouse resonated with the impact.

The Face Hunters tensed, eyes wide.

Benkei's breath hitched. "Boss…!"

Gingka and Kenta's earlier words echoed in the backdrop of memory—about storms, rhythm, and the battle for control.

The blades didn't retreat.

Locked in, grinding, neither yielding.

The storm and the rhythm clashed—and the outcome was still spinning.

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