The warehouse was in ruins.
Beams creaked, the air churned with fragments of dust and debris, and yet—Leone spun.
Barely.
Kyoya's teeth clenched. His fists trembled, not in fear, but fury.
Across from him, Doji stood poised, Dark Wolf calmly orbiting, its spin never losing composure.
"I warned you, Kyoya," Doji's voice was cold, surgical. "A storm without control is just noise waiting to be silenced."
Kyoya's glare sharpened. "Then come and try."
Doji's fingers flicked. Dark Wolf's spin adjusted, its movements tightening into a precise rhythm lock.
A faint howl echoed—not from the warehouse, but from the Beyblade itself.
"Darkness Howling Blazer," Doji commanded.
Dark Wolf's rotations pulsed, a rhythmic howl reverberating through the air. Shadows coalesced behind it, forming the ghostly visage of a Wolf—sharp, cold, and hungry.
The Wolf Phantom lunged, weaving through the crumbling warehouse air currents, cutting through the remnants of Kyoya's fading tornado.
The Face Hunters stood frozen. Benkei's fists were clenched, his breath stuck in his throat.
"Boss…"
Leone's spin wavered, the storm trying to muster one last push, but the Howling Blazer struck.
The spectral Wolf's fangs clamped down on the phantom Leon's neck, a silent snarl piercing through the storm's roar.
Kyoya felt the jolt.
Leone's axis stuttered.
The clash wasn't explosive. It was surgical.
Doji's rhythm had found its mark.
Dark Wolf slammed into Leone with unrelenting force, the impact shattering the last remnants of the tornado.
Leone was hurled backwards, scraping across the stadium's surface before flying outward.
Kyoya's eyes never left his Blade.
He moved.
Faster than the Face Hunters could react, Kyoya's hand shot out, catching Leone mid-air, the impact jarring through his arm.
The stadium was silent now.
Only the echo of the Howling Blazer's rhythm lingered.
Doji stood, unaffected, Dark Wolf returning to his hand with effortless precision.
Kyoya looked at Leone, his grip firm, his spirit unbroken—but his storm was caged.
Doji's smirk was sharp. "The wildest beasts bite hardest when caged. You'll spin again, Kyoya. But in my arena."
Kyoya's glare was defiant, but he said nothing.
The sound of rotors filled the air.
A helicopter descended beyond the broken warehouse wall. Its presence wasn't subtle—it was an extraction.
Doji turned, walking calmly toward the chopper.
Benkei's eyes flickered. His feet moved before his mind processed.
"Wait—Boss…! I'm coming too!"
Benkei sprinted toward the chopper, his desperation raw.
But a dark-suited henchman blocked his path, stepping in front with a silent, firm barrier.
Benkei's fists collided with the man's chest, but the barrier didn't budge.
Doji's voice carried back. "Loyalty is admirable. But every storm needs its own path."
The helicopter lifted, Kyoya aboard, silent, his eyes fixed forward, refusing to look back at his team.
Benkei stood frozen, fists trembling, watching his leader ascend, powerless to follow.
The Face Hunters gathered, uncertain.
The storm had been caged, and they were left behind.
---
Later.
The sun had dipped, casting Metal City in a muted orange glow.
Benkei sat alone on the warehouse's edge, his usual bravado stripped away. He stared at his hands, the same hands that couldn't reach Kyoya when it mattered.
Footsteps echoed.
Doji.
He approached calmly, a case in hand.
"Benkei."
Benkei didn't respond, his gaze fixed ahead.
Doji placed the case beside him, opening it with a soft click.
Inside rested Dark Bull H145SD.
"Take it. A gift."
Benkei's eyes flickered.
He didn't move at first.
But slowly, his hand reached out, fingers curling around Dark Bull's frame.
Doji's smile sharpened. He didn't need to say anything else.
This wasn't a gift.
It was a piece on the board.
And Benkei… had just picked it up.