The stadium floor vibrated as Dark Bull and Eternal Phoenix locked into a relentless rotation, grinding against each other with neither Blader willing to yield. The previous exchanges had been about control and counters, but now, it was reduced to one simple truth—whose spin would outlast the other.
Benkei's breathing was steady, but his focus had sharpened to a razor's edge.
"Aarav's not giving me an opening. Then I'll make one."
He shifted his grip slightly, launching Dark Bull into a powerful side sweep, causing it to arc sharply. Bull's heavy frame kicked up debris as it charged, aiming directly for Phoenix's base.
This wasn't reckless.
This was precision forged by countless failed Uppercuts.
The plan was simple—strike low, destabilize Phoenix's line, and force it into a vertical recoil.
Aarav's response was minimal—his fingers gently adjusted the launcher, his eyes sharp but calm.
Phoenix didn't retreat.
It spun into the line of impact.
The collision cracked through the stadium like a thunderclap.
But Phoenix didn't lift.
Instead, it absorbed the force, and in the same motion, slid under Bull's advancing arc, reducing the power into a gliding recoil. Aarav's Phoenix wasn't countering with brute force—it was bending the strike, redirecting the energy back into Bull's own frame.
Benkei's eyes narrowed.
"He's guiding my own charge back at me—then I'll go higher."
Benkei called for Bull's Uppercut, adjusting its trajectory into a steep, rising curve.
The crowd watched in breathless anticipation.
Bull's angle was perfect, lifting with a powerful upward spin meant to send Phoenix airborne.
But Aarav had been waiting.
Phoenix's rotation dropped low—unnaturally low—hugging the stadium floor as it glided beneath Bull's ascending path.
And then, with a precise upward flick of Aarav's wrist, Phoenix struck Bull from underneath, a sharp, controlled lift that inverted Bull's momentum.
The visual was stunning.
For a split second, it was as if the Phoenix's wings had spread, lifting the Bull by its horns, throwing it upwards in a blazing arc.
The crowd gasped as Dark Bull was tossed into the air—not shattered, not broken—but lifted cleanly out of the stadium bounds.
The clash ended.
Dark Bull landed outside the stadium, still spinning, albeit slower.
Benkei's hands dropped to his sides.
He didn't speak.
He didn't wait for the referee's call.
He knew.
Aarav's Phoenix had settled in the center, its rotation stable, unbothered.
Madoka's device beeped. "Benkei's Bull didn't shatter. He maintained full structural endurance."
Kenta stared, wide-eyed. "That was insane… He lifted Benkei's Bull like it was weightless."
Gingka's grin didn't fade. "Benkei didn't lose wild. He spun all the way through."
From the sidelines, Hikaru's gaze lingered on Benkei—not in pity, not in admiration—but in recognition.
He hadn't come to win.
He had come to test his spin.
And he had done exactly that.
But Benkei didn't wait for the crowd's reaction.
He jumped down from the platform, retrieved Dark Bull, and with a firm grip, began walking out of the plaza.
He didn't pause.
He didn't look back.
His loyalty wasn't here.
It was with Kyoya.
He had fulfilled his purpose—to test himself.
And now, his path led elsewhere.
Kenta started to call out, but Gingka placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let him go. He's not running. He's moving forward."
Madoka simply nodded, watching as Benkei's figure disappeared through the crowd, his back straight, Dark Bull firm in his grip.
Hikaru's gaze returned to Aarav.
Aarav didn't react. He simply clipped Phoenix back to his belt, stepping away from the stadium, as if the battle was just another spin in a long sequence.
No celebration.
No words.
The plaza didn't erupt into cheers.
It didn't need to.
The battle had spoken loud enough.