The warehouse hadn't changed.
The cracked concrete, the rusted railings, the battered walls—it was the same forgotten space that once echoed with shouts of the Face Hunters. But now, it was silent. Empty.
Kyoya stood in the center, arms crossed, eyes half-closed. The air felt thin, but his patience was steady. He wasn't here for theatrics. He wasn't here for chaos.
He was waiting.
The rumors had already reached his ears. Benkei Musashibou, his right-hand man, had been spending time with Gingka Hagane's group. Training, battling, laughing.
Kyoya didn't need to storm the city.
Benkei would come to him.
The door creaked open.
Benkei stepped inside, his large frame filling the entrance. His usual boisterous energy was absent. He paused when he saw Kyoya standing there, as if the air had thickened around him.
"Kyoya…" Benkei's voice was cautious.
Kyoya didn't move. His eyes opened slowly, sharp as ever.
"You took your time."
Benkei scratched the back of his head, stepping further in. "Didn't expect to see you here. Heard you were off… training."
Kyoya's lips curved—not into a grin, but a cold line. "Training's over. Now it's time to clean up."
Benkei's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Kyoya uncrossed his arms, walking slowly across the warehouse floor, his boots echoing. He stopped, facing Benkei directly.
"The Face Hunters are done."
The words dropped like a stone.
Benkei stiffened. "What?"
"I'm dissolving the group." Kyoya's tone was blunt. "Weak Bladers don't deserve a name to hide behind. You either stand or you fall."
Benkei's fists clenched. "That's not fair. The Face Hunters—"
Kyoya cut him off. "Were nothing more than noise. You know it. I know it."
The tension wasn't loud, but it pressed heavy between them.
"I didn't join Gingka's group to betray you," Benkei said, stepping forward. "I wanted to get stronger. To face you—fairly. Not as some follower."
Kyoya's gaze didn't shift. "Then prove it."
Benkei's breath hitched.
Kyoya's hand rested lightly on his Beyblade, clipped to his belt.
"If you've got the guts to walk with Gingka, you should have the guts to stand against me."
It wasn't a taunt.
It was a challenge.
A blunt reminder that loyalty isn't words. It's action.
Benkei's jaw tightened.
He reached to his launcher, pulling out Dark Bull. His grip was steady.
"I didn't come here to fight you, Kyoya," Benkei said, though his stance shifted into a ready position. "But I won't run either."
Kyoya's smirk returned—faint, controlled.
"Good."
The warehouse felt colder.
No audience.
No shouting.
Just two Bladers who knew what was about to happen.
Kyoya clipped Rock Leone onto his launcher.
Benkei did the same with Dark Bull.
"This isn't for Face Hunters," Benkei muttered.
Kyoya nodded. "It's for yourself."
Madoka, Aaravand Gingka weren't here.
No eyes to watch.
But in this space, that didn't matter.
The tension didn't need a crowd.
Kyoya raised his launcher, stance loose but coiled.
Benkei mirrored him, his massive frame tensing.
The air thinned as their grips tightened.
No countdown needed.
Two Bladers.
One challenge.
"Let it rip!"