I got to the arena earlier than necessary. The stands were mostly empty, the air still holding that faint metallic tang from yesterday's matches. I claimed the same seat I'd used before—close enough to the staging area to hear the staff call names, yet far enough from the crowd to keep my head clear.
The semifinals wouldn't start for another twenty minutes. I rested my elbows on my knees, hands loosely clasped, Snake's case between my feet. My mind kept replaying Gideon's last match—the way he waited, never rushing, then struck like he'd been planning it from the first spin.
Footsteps pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced toward the entrance tunnel and saw the other three semifinalists making their way in. Kenta was first, giving me a quick nod as he passed. Behind him came Daisuke, his usual sharp, focused expression in place. And then Gideon stepped through.
Even without his Bey in hand, there was a weight in the way he carried himself—calm, deliberate, like he already knew the day's outcome. He caught sight of me and shifted his path just enough to stop in front of my seat.
"You've done well," he said, voice even, but with just enough edge to make it sound like he was measuring me. "For a rookie, making it from zero BP to the semifinals in your first tournament… that's impressive."
I didn't reply right away. His eyes narrowed slightly before he added, "But your luck ends here. You've met me."
Kenta and Daisuke slowed their steps to watch, clearly waiting to see how I'd respond. I leaned back slightly in my seat, keeping my tone light. "We'll see in the match who will win or lose."
It wasn't sharp—just enough of a jab to make my point without showing heat.
Gideon's lips curved into a smile—not friendly, but closer to satisfaction. "The match won't decide," he said quietly. "I will decide."
Before I could respond, the arena commentator's voice thundered through the speakers.
"Next match: Ethan Kael versus Gideon Voss! Both bladers, please make your way to the stadium!"
Gideon's smile didn't fade. He turned toward the staging area without another word, leaving me with the faintest knot in my stomach—not fear exactly, but the awareness that things were about to get real.
I stood, picked up Snake's case, and followed him toward the bright lights of the stadium floor. Whatever happened next, I wasn't going to let him control the whole narrative.
We took our places on opposite sides of the stadium platform, the air between us thick with tension you could almost hear. Gideon's stance carried unshakable calm—not arrogance, but quiet confidence from knowing exactly what he could do. His eyes locked on mine, and neither of us blinked.
We reached for our launchers in unison. I unclipped mine from my belt and slid Abyss Snake into place, feeling the familiar weight settle in my palm. The green-eyed serpent etched into my mind seemed to stare back at me from the Beyblade itself. Across from me, Gideon unhooked his own launcher with deliberate, steady movements, like a soldier loading his weapon. He mounted his Beyblade—Obsidian Golem—and even before the battle began, I could feel the weight of it.
It was bulky. Heavy. A defensive type, through and through. From the way its metal frame caught the overhead lights, I could tell it wasn't built for speed. It was built to endure—to take hits that would rattle other Beys into submission.
The commentator's voice boomed over the arena, cutting through the silent standoff. "Semi-final Match One! Ethan Kael versus Gideon Voss! Countdown… in three… two… one…"
My grip tightened on the ripcord.
"…Let it rip!"
Our launchers jerked in unison, the ripcords screaming as the Beyblades shot forward.
"Go, Golem!" Gideon's voice was steady, a command without theatrics.
"Go, Snake!" I answered, sharper, my voice riding the adrenaline.
The collision was instant—both Beys meeting dead center in a grinding clash of metal. Sparks flared at the point of contact, small but intense, the sound like two blades scraping together. My arms twitched slightly with the impact, even without touching the Beys. Through my connection with Snake, I could feel the resistance.
Obsidian Golem didn't budge. It held its ground like it was bolted to the stadium floor. Its wide, defensive track and heavy metal wheel absorbed Snake's hit without giving an inch. My serpent rebounded into a shallow arc before coming back for another strike.
The crowd reacted instantly. A ripple of cheers and murmurs rolled through the stands, the noise bouncing off the arena walls. I kept my eyes on the stadium, tracking Snake's wide arcs and Golem's steady, immovable posture.
Gideon's gaze never left me, even while his Bey battled. "You can hit it as much as you want," he said evenly, loud enough to carry over the grinding, "but Golem doesn't fall that easily."
I didn't answer. Words wouldn't shake him, and they wouldn't help me either. Instead, I let Snake keep testing his defense, probing for an opening. Every time Snake's metal edge slammed into Golem, sparks jumped, the grinding metal sending tiny shivers through my fingertips.
But Golem was more than a wall—I could see it in the subtle way it adjusted its position, angling incoming hits away from its center. It wasn't passively defending. It was calculating, each micro-shift deflecting my momentum and bleeding Snake's spin power bit by bit.
The grinding deepened as both Beys pushed harder in the center fight. Snake's rotations sent a steady hum into my chest—the familiar heartbeat connection—but I could feel the energy being drained with every clash against Golem's immovable mass.
For a moment, I wondered if Gideon was holding back. He hadn't called a special move yet. Golem was just… waiting. Like a predator that didn't need to rush, knowing its prey would tire out first.
I narrowed my eyes, focusing on Snake's movement. This wasn't just about breaking through defense. It was about timing. I couldn't waste Abyssal Vortex on the wrong opening, or it would fail—and then I'd have nothing left to answer with.
Gideon looked perfectly content to let the grinding continue. His eyes were steady, his stance unshaken, as if this was going exactly the way he'd planned from the start.
And maybe it was.