The stadium remained quiet, but the spins were tightening.
Gingka's Pegasus wasn't circling wide anymore. Every arc narrowed, each acceleration burst breaking pattern. His strategy was clear—force Hikaru to adjust, crack her calm, make her react.
But Hikaru wasn't rattled.
Storm Aquario held firm near the stadium's center, but her fingers flexed slightly on her launcher grip. She wasn't going to let this drag out. It was time to shift.
Pegasus burst in again, grazing Aquario's edge. The impact was sharp, but not enough to dislodge it.
Madoka's scanner beeped. "Pegasus is throwing inconsistent angles—he's cutting off every clean trajectory."
Benkei's tone was flat. "She's got one option. Change the space she's spinning in."
Kenta watched, tense. "But if she moves wrong, Gingka's going to catch her."
Aarav stayed silent, his focus locked.
Hikaru's next move wasn't loud.
As Pegasus sped in for another side attack, Hikaru flicked her wrist with precise timing.
Aquario's spin line shifted—not drastically—but it glided toward the stadium's outer rim, using the incline to pick up lateral momentum.
But there was something else.
The angle wasn't just repositioning Aquario. It was slicing air in sharp, alternating vectors.
Madoka noticed first. "Her spin vectors are splitting."
Storm Aquario's body blurred—not from magic, not from special effects—but from the sheer precision of its alternating shifts. The Beyblade's movement created overlapping afterimages that mimicked multiple Aquarios moving in sync around the stadium's perimeter.
Kenta's eyes widened. "Is that...?"
Madoka confirmed. "Illusion Spin Technique. She's creating afterimages through sharp rotational shifts."
From Gingka's perspective, the stadium wasn't holding one Aquario anymore.
There were five, maybe six.
Each spinning in a mirrored motion, circling the edge.
Pegasus wasn't slowing down, but Gingka's grin changed. It wasn't playful now—it was focused.
"So that's how you want to play it."
He wasn't someone who panicked at visual tricks.
He knew illusions didn't carry weight.
But the real one was hidden inside them.
Benkei muttered. "She's not showing her blade's core. He'll have to guess."
Kenta clenched his fists. "How's he going to find the real one?"
Aarav's gaze didn't move from the stadium. He was watching the recoil points, not the visuals.
Pegasus charged into the illusion field.
It struck an afterimage—but the blade phased through, meeting empty air.
Hikaru's posture remained steady. She wasn't going to help Gingka find the answer.
Gingka's next move was sharp.
Pegasus altered its orbit, bouncing from the stadium's sloped walls, skimming into another afterimage—another miss.
Madoka's scanner tracked the inconsistencies. "She's using Aquario's balance to shift spin layers. Visuals aren't enough. Gingka needs to feel it."
Benkei grunted. "This isn't about watching. He has to listen to the blade."
Pegasus feinted another charge but didn't commit.
Instead, Gingka slowed it slightly, tightening the arc, allowing it to graze through the illusion field in a sweeping motion. He wasn't aiming for an impact—he was reading feedback.
Then he felt it.
A faint recoil, sharper than the illusions' lightness.
"That's you."
Gingka's grip tightened.
He pulled Pegasus into a sharp, controlled acceleration, directing it toward the spot where that recoil had fed back through the launcher.
Hikaru's expression stayed blank, but her fingers shifted slightly.
Pegasus stormed in, cutting through the illusions, heading for the real Aquario.
Madoka's scanner spiked. "Collision point locked."
Benkei's lips curled. "No more tricks now."
Kenta's eyes were wide, breathing held.
Aarav's focus didn't flicker.
The collision was sharp.
Pegasus met Aquario head-on.
The sound of metal on metal echoed.
Sparks flared.
Neither blade yielded.
Their clash wasn't about power—it was about timing, about reading the right moment.
Hikaru had forced Gingka into her illusion field.
Gingka had found her blade through instinct.
The afterimages shattered.
Only two blades remained.
The tension didn't break.
Both Bladers held their stance, neither pulling back.
Gingka's voice cut through, calm but firm. "That's a sharp spin. You're not bad."
Hikaru's reply was as even as ever. "You read it well."
The stadium was no longer filled with distractions.
Now, it was a pure head-to-head clash.