The stadium had become a maelstrom.
Violet light from Golem's Stonewall Impact roared upward, colliding against the spiraling darkness of the Abyssal Vortex. Every second felt stretched, the two forces locked in a contest of raw willpower.
I could feel Snake's rotation in my grip — the rhythm was steady, the pressure constant — but Gideon's defense was still holding. Neither side was giving an inch.
"See, rookie?" Gideon's voice thundered over the noise. "This is what it means to stand against an immovable wall!"
His tone carried weight, but I wasn't about to let it shake me. My reply was calm, almost
cold.
"And this is what happens when the wall underestimates the abyss."
Closing my eyes for a heartbeat, I tuned out the crowd and the blinding lights until there was only one sound left — the hum of Snake's spin. My spin. Our spin.
I shifted the vortex's pull, letting it not just constrict but flow. Snake's coils wound tighter in my mind, drawing the Golem off-balance in subtle, deliberate motions. I didn't need brute force to break him — I needed the perfect angle.
Gideon noticed the shift instantly.
"You think you can drag me down?!" he shouted.
"Not drag," I answered, eyes snapping open, "consume."
The green light in Snake's eyes ignited, and the vortex began compressing faster, drawing not just air but the violet light itself inward. A flicker ran through the Stonewall beam — barely noticeable, but to me, it was the signal.
The moment came.
Snake struck, the phantom coils tightening, and Golem's perfect footing shifted by the smallest fraction. The cracks in its crystal body lit up violently, trying to compensate — but the Vortex was already at full acceleration.
The spiral collapsed inward and then detonated outward in a single, devastating release.
A thick beam of black energy laced with green lightning tore into the sky, swallowing the violet pillar whole. The sound was a low, earth-shaking boom that rattled the stadium. The shockwave rippled through the ground, tiny cracks spiderwebbing outward from the center of the collision.
Golem's spirit was wrenched off its stance, lifted into the air as Snake's coils constricted and hurled it backward. The impact as it hit the stadium wall was deafening, leaving jagged cracks in the floor where it landed.
The real bey mirrored the fate — Gideon's Golem skidding across the stadium floor, bouncing over the ridge, and crashing outside the ring. It spun twice on the concrete before falling still.
The vortex faded, the serpent dissolving into motes of green light, and Snake leapt from the stadium floor, still spinning, into my palm.
I didn't raise my hand. I didn't smile. I just looked across the stadium at Gideon.
He was on one knee, head bowed, staring at his bey where it lay in his palm. For a moment he didn't move. Then he slowly tilted his head upward, looking at the clear blue sky above the arena as if searching for something in it.
His gaze dropped back to his beyblade, the jagged defense type that had carried him this far. His fingers tightened slightly on it.
Finally, he looked straight at me. His eyes weren't filled with anger, but with the cold determination of someone already thinking ahead to the next fight.
"Next time," he said, his voice low but carrying across the stadium, "I won't be defeated by you."
No handshake, no further words. He turned and walked off the stage, the sunlight catching on the purple edges of his Golem before it disappeared into the shadows of the exit tunnel.
I stood there in silence, watching him go. My fingers curled slightly around Snake's smooth frame, feeling the warmth from the spin still fading.
This match wasn't just a win. It was a promise — not his, but mine.
If a battle like this could happen in the semifinals… then what waited for me in the final round?
The thought didn't make me anxious. It lit a fire.
For the first time since the tournament began, I felt real excitement flooding through me. The next match couldn't come soon enough.