I didn't head straight back to my spot near the arena district. Instead, I wandered through the side streets until I found somewhere quiet—a small park tucked between two buildings. It was mostly empty, save for a couple of benches and an old, cracked practice stadium resting in the corner like it had been left behind years ago.
I sat down, resting Snake on my palm, and closed my eyes for a moment. The sounds of the quarterfinals still echoed in my head, but I pushed them aside, focusing instead on Gideon's match. Every move he'd made had been deliberate. He didn't chase. He didn't waste spin on flashy attacks. He held control by doing nothing—until the exact moment he decided to end it.
That kind of patience was dangerous. Against him, the Abyssal Vortex wouldn't work if I telegraphed it too early. He'd see it coming and shut it down before I could build it.
I set Snake in the practice stadium and gave it a light launch—nothing full-power, just enough to let it circle lazily. My eyes followed its movement, imagining Gideon's Bey in the center, unmoving.
I needed a way to mask my intentions. If I could make him believe I was committing to one tactic, then switch at the last possible second… maybe that would be enough. It wouldn't just be about attacking—it would be about setting him up.
I picked up Snake and launched again, this time experimenting with my grip and launch angle to alter its movement pattern mid-spin. A shallow, banked launch for wider arcs; a sharp wrist snap for sudden center control. Over and over, I pictured Gideon's counterstyle, searching for the cracks in his rhythm.
By the tenth or twelfth launch, the plan in my head was beginning to take shape. I'd open the match by forcing him to react—nothing reckless, but enough to push him out of his comfort zone in the center. The moment the timing felt right, I'd trigger the Vortex.
Snake spun to a stop in the stadium, and I caught it, feeling the cool metal against my palm.
I wasn't naive. Gideon would probably have his own traps prepared. He'd have studied my match with Kaiya, maybe even replayed it in his head as much as I'd replayed his. But that didn't change what I needed to do.
If tomorrow was going to be about patience, then I'd match him there. And when the time came, I'd make sure the strike he never saw coming was the one that ended it.
The sky above the buildings was shifting to orange, the sun sliding lower, shadows stretching longer across the street. I slipped Snake back into its case and stood, feeling the weight of the match ahead.
Tomorrow wasn't just another step—it was the kind of battle that decided whether I was here to simply compete… or to win everything.
By the time I returned to my spot near the arena district, the streets were quieter. Most of the bladers had either gone home or crowded into restaurants. The hum of the city was still there, but softer, more distant.
I set my bag down against the same stretch of wall I'd been using all week and pulled Snake from its case. The moonlight caught on the edges of the Fusion Wheel, giving it a cold, silver gleam. For a while, I just held it in both hands, feeling the faint marks and scratches from today's matches.
Tomorrow at eleven. That was the time to remember. I'd faced tough opponents already, but Gideon was different. Everything about him said control—over the stadium, over the pace, over the entire match. If I made one mistake, I wouldn't get another chance.
I tilted my head back, looking up at the night sky. The stars here weren't like back home—they seemed sharper somehow, as if the air between them and me was thinner. One cluster caught my attention. If I traced the points with my eyes, I could almost make out the shape of a coiling serpent. It wasn't perfect, but close enough to stir something in my chest.
Maybe it was coincidence. Or maybe it was the same kind that had dropped me here with Snake in the first place. Either way, I didn't look away.
I turned Snake slowly in my palm, the metal still faintly warm from earlier. The connection between us wasn't something I could explain—not to Kenta, not to Kaiya, not to anyone. It wasn't just about launches or spin velocity—it was as if Snake understood the way I thought, as if it could sense when I was ready to move.
The air grew cooler as the night went on. I slipped Snake back into its case, checking the lock twice before setting it beside me. My BP card sat in my pocket, the number higher than it had ever been, but it still felt like just another step. Winning tomorrow wasn't about the points—it was about proving I belonged here.
I pulled my jacket tighter and leaned back against the wall. The faint sounds of the city—distant chatter, the low hum of an engine—faded into the background. My focus narrowed down to the weight of Snake at my side and the thought of that moment when the countdown would hit zero.
"Three… two… one… Let it rip."
I could already hear it.