Days 8-10 — The Descent
Eight days until Gingka arrived.
I trained harder.
Not smarter. Not with strategy.
Just harder—because failure meant becoming another hollow-eyed ghost in Black Dranzer's collection.
Day 8: Three hundred launches. Arms numb by noon. The phoenix didn't resist. Just watched. Waiting for something.
Day 9: Pressure building behind my eyes. Heat in my chest unrelated to exertion. The hunger from the Face Hunters battle kept surfacing—that pleasure at watching things break.
I'd told myself it was just adrenaline. Just the thrill of victory.
But I knew better.
That warmth when I'd whispered "finish them"? That wasn't entirely me.
Or... it was becoming me.
The line between my will and the phoenix's influence had been blurring since Day 5. I just hadn't wanted to admit it.
Day 10: I pushed too far.
The connection felt different. Too open. Like a door I'd been pushing against had suddenly stopped resisting.
Mistake.
The moment I launched, everything went wrong.
***
Day 11 — Collapse
Abandoned warehouse. Evening. Alone.
I loaded Black Dranzer with trembling hands. Not fear. Anticipation.
Something was coming. I felt it in my bones.
"Let it rip."
The beyblade exploded across the stadium—faster than I'd ever achieved. The air hissed with cold fire.
Then the presence surged.
No warning. No gradual pressure.
Overwhelming.
My vision distorted. Colors inverted—red became cyan, shadows turned luminous. Sounds stretched like melting wax. Time felt elastic, wrong.
My body moved without permission.
Adjusting angles. Shifting stance. Executing techniques I'd never learned, pulled from the phoenix's ancient memory.
Black Dranzer struck the floor and erupted in black flames.
Real fire. Cold fire. Fire that consumed meaning.
The concrete split. The warehouse trembled. Heat distortion rippled outward.
And I felt—
Power.
Pure. Unfettered. Absolute.
No restraint. No hesitation. No weakness holding me back.
Just the phoenix's strength flowing through me, and it felt like flying.
Like I'd been crawling my entire life and suddenly remembered I had wings.
< Yes. THIS is what you were meant for. Let go. Become MORE. >
The voice wasn't outside anymore. It was inside—resonating through bone and blood, indistinguishable from my own thoughts.
My hand raised without permission. The launcher shifted, preparing another launch.
A bigger one.
This time I'd burn the entire building down.
This time I'd—
Stop.
The word echoed in my mind—my voice, small but sharp.
This isn't me. This is IT.
I fought. Pushed against the tide of power crushing down on my consciousness.
The phoenix resisted.
< Without me, you are NOTHING. >
"I'd rather be nothing than become you."
< Then BURN. >
Agony flooded every nerve. Not physical pain—something deeper. Like the flames were burning away me. My thoughts. My memories. My sense of self.
I felt myself slipping. Dissolving. Becoming someone—something—else.
Faces flashed through my consciousness. Previous hosts. Hollow eyes. Empty expressions.
Consumed. Erased. Replaced.
Terror shot through me—not fear of pain, but fear of ceasing to exist.
I clung to the one thing the phoenix couldn't corrupt:
My identity.
Not Kai. Not the body I wore.
Me.
The person I was before cosmic entities and second chances. Before Metal Saga and bit-beasts and this impossible world.
I am ME.
Something deep inside responded. Silent. Stubborn. Unbreakable.
A spark.
A refusal.
I. Am. ME.
The presence recoiled—surprised, perhaps, that anything could resist when victory seemed absolute.
I seized that moment and pulled—ripping control back with everything I had.
The connection snapped like a broken chain.
I collapsed.
Hit concrete hard enough to feel ribs crack—or maybe just bruise, I couldn't tell through the pain.
Blood dripped from my nose. My mouth. Possibly my ears.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Not from cold. From the lingering echo of foreign will trying to puppeteer my body.
I tried to stand. Couldn't.
Tried to speak. My throat refused.
For thirty seconds, I just lay there, gasping, reminding myself how to exist as me instead of it.
Slowly—so slowly—sensation returned.
Pain. Cold. The rough texture of concrete against my cheek.
Real. Physical. Grounding.
When I could finally move, I looked at my hands.
Shaking. Blood everywhere. Eyes burning.
But they were mine.
I retrieved Black Dranzer with fingers that barely worked.
The beyblade was warm. Almost hot.
The phoenix's presence was quieter now. Not gone. Never gone.
But... watchful.
< You survived. >
Not praise. Observation.
"Yeah."
< Most do not. >
"I'm not most."
Silence stretched between us.
Then, so faint I almost missed it:
< ...No. You are not. >
For the first time, I felt something from Black Dranzer that wasn't hunger or contempt.
A flicker of respect.
I sat there in the ruined warehouse, surrounded by scorch marks and melted concrete, understanding something fundamental:
This wasn't a war I could win through strength alone.
The phoenix would always be stronger. Faster. More powerful.
The only way to control it was to prove myself worthy.
Not through submission. Through survival.
I had to show I was strong enough to wield it without being consumed.
And I'd just barely passed the first real test.
***
## Day 12 — Reconstruction
I didn't train on Day 12.
Couldn't. My body refused orders. Every muscle ached like I'd been beaten with hammers. Both eyes were bloodshot crimson. I looked like I'd stared into a furnace and blinked too slowly.
I sat on my apartment floor that afternoon, staring at Black Dranzer on the table across from me.
It sat motionless. Silent.
But I could feel it watching. Always watching.
The nightmare from Day 7 kept replaying. Those hollow eyes. Those empty faces. Previous hosts who'd failed.
How many had sat exactly where I was sitting now?
How many had thought they could control it?
How many had been wrong?
My hand still ached from where I'd clenched the beyblade during the possession attempt. The cuts had scabbed over, but the phantom pain remained.
A reminder.
I was one mistake away from joining them. One moment of weakness. One second of letting my guard down.
< You fear me again. >
The voice was quiet. Almost... curious.
"I never stopped fearing you," I said to the empty room. "I just learned to fight anyway."
< Good. Fear without action is weakness. Fear with action is survival. >
"And what am I now? Surviving or thriving?"
< You are learning the difference. >
I picked up Black Dranzer. Felt its weight. Its warmth.
Two weeks ago, this beyblade was a weapon. A tool.
Now it was a partner. A threat. A mirror.
Everything I could become if I stopped fighting.
Everything I refused to become.
I set it back down.
Tomorrow, I'd train again.
Tonight, I'd just... exist.
And remember what I was fighting for.
Not power. Not victory.
Myself.
***
Day 13 — Restoration
I returned to training.
Different this time.
No forcing synchronization. No pushing for raw power.
Just... learning the phoenix's patterns. Matching its tempo. Understanding its nature.
Two hundred launches. Each one controlled. Precise.
By afternoon, something shifted.
Black Dranzer moved with me instead of against me. Not submission—cooperation.
Like two predators deciding to hunt together instead of fighting over territory.
It lasted five seconds. Then the connection pulled back.
This is temporary. Earn it permanently.
Message received.
I launched two hundred more times.
Chasing those five seconds of perfect harmony.
By evening, the connection felt... stable.
Not safe. Never safe.
But stable.
We circled each other like apex predators acknowledging mutual territory.
Not friends. Not allies.
Just two forces bound by fate, learning to coexist.
***
Day 13 — Evening — Madoka's Reckoning
She caught me leaving the warehouse.
Standing under the streetlights, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"You look terrible," Madoka said.
I walked past without slowing.
She fell into step beside me. "I've been asking around about you. You don't exist. Not on tournament records. Not in any database. It's like you appeared two weeks ago out of nothing."
Sharp. Too sharp.
"And?" My voice was flat.
"And people who appear from nowhere with dangerous beyblades usually bring trouble."
"That so?"
"I don't trust you, Kai."
I stopped walking. Turned to face her. "Smart."
Her eyes narrowed. "That beyblade—even when it's not spinning, I can feel it. Like it's alive. Wrong."
"Correct."
"So why use it?"
"Because I can."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
Madoka stepped closer. Bold. "I've seen what happens when bladers use parts they don't understand. They get hurt. Sometimes permanently." She gestured at my face—the bloodshot eyes, the exhaustion, the faint tremor in my hands. "You're losing a fight. Anyone can see it."
"I'm winning," I said quietly. "Slowly. But winning."
"Winning what?"
"A war."
"Against who?"
"Myself."
She inhaled sharply. Not fear—something deeper. Understanding, perhaps. Or pity.
"Kai... you don't have to do this alone."
"Yes. I do."
"Why?"
"Because that's the only way it listens."
Silence stretched between us. Madoka's frustration visible on her face, warring with genuine concern.
Finally, she spoke—quieter now. "One day, that beyblade will break you. When it does... don't expect me to pick up the pieces."
She turned to leave.
"Madoka."
She paused. Looked back.
I hesitated. Just for a second. Long enough for something to flicker behind the cold mask—exhaustion, maybe. Or the weight of fighting a war no one else could see.
Then it was gone. Walls back up.
"...You're right. It is dangerous."
Her expression softened slightly.
"But I refuse to run from it."
Madoka studied me for a long moment. Then nodded, almost imperceptibly.
"Don't die."
She walked away, tool belt jingling softly in the quiet street.
I stood alone, Black Dranzer heavy against my hip.
< The mechanic cares. >
"She cares about not watching someone get hurt."
< Humans blur that line often. >
"Not me."
< We shall see. >
I watched her disappear around the corner.
For a moment, I considered telling her everything. About transmigration. About ROB. About knowing what was coming.
About Gingka.
But some truths were too heavy to share.
And some battles had to be fought alone.
Still... part of me filed away her words.
Don't die.
Simple. Direct. Honest.
The kind of thing someone said when they actually cared, even if they shouldn't.
I'd remember that.
When things got worse—and they would—I'd remember that someone in this world gave a damn whether I survived.
Even if I didn't plan to give her the satisfaction of being right.
***
Day 14 — One Day Before
Morning. Final training session.
I stood in the beyblade room, Black Dranzer loaded in the launcher, and felt different than I had two weeks ago.
Harder. Colder. More dangerous.
But still me.
"Let it rip."
The launch was perfect.
Not just technically. Spiritually.
Black Dranzer moved like liquid shadow. Every trajectory flawless. Every movement precise. Power and control balanced on a razor's edge.
For ten full seconds, we were completely synchronized.
Predator and partner. Weapon and wielder. Phoenix and mortal operating as one.
Then the moment passed. The beyblade returned to center, spinning peacefully.
< You have learned. >
"I've survived."
< The same thing, for now. >
I retrieved Black Dranzer. Studied the dark phoenix etched into its fusion wheel.
"Tomorrow, Gingka arrives."
< Yes. >
"You know about him?"
< I know all who carry spirits. His Pegasus burns bright. Warm. Alive. > The phoenix's presence sharpened. < Everything we are not. >
"And when we meet?"
< You will fight. Inevitably. Light and darkness always clash. >
"Who wins?"
< The one who refuses to lose. >
I smiled—cold, sharp, Kai's expression but my intent.
"Good answer."
***
Evening. Rooftop.
I stood under the stars, Black Dranzer in hand, looking out over Metal City's neon skyline.
Two weeks of training. Six days of war with the phoenix. One day of near-complete erasure.
And I'd survived.
Changed, yes. Harder. Colder. More willing to embrace darkness when necessary.
But still myself.
Then I felt it.
A pulse of presence from somewhere in the city below.
Warm. Bright. Burning like blue fire wrapped in determination and innocence and an absolute refusal to give up.
Everything I wasn't.
Black Dranzer stirred against my palm.
< He is here. >
"Gingka."
< The storm arrives. >
I closed my eyes, sensing that distant warmth. Feeling its character.
Loud where I was silent. Open where I was closed. Light where I was shadow.
The perfect opposite.
The protagonist this world had been waiting for.
"When we meet," I said quietly, "what happens?"
< You show him what darkness means. >
"And if he's stronger?"
< Then surpass him or fall. There is no middle path. >
I opened my eyes. Stared at the city below.
Somewhere down there, Gingka Hagane was arriving. Laughing with strangers. Making friends. Being everything a protagonist should be.
Bright. Hopeful. Alive.
He had no idea what was waiting for him.
A blader forged in cold fire. A spirit born of shadow and hunger. A will too stubborn to break even when faced with erasure.
Someone dangerous.
Somewhere below, in a small ramen shop near the train station, a spiky-haired boy with a blue scarf laughed at something the owner said.
Bright. Loud. Innocent.
Everything a protagonist should be.
And standing in the shadows above, watching the city lights flicker like distant stars, was his opposite.
Cold. Silent. Forged in darkness.
Everything a rival should be.
Black Dranzer pulsed once against my palm.
< When you meet him, do not hold back. >
"I won't."
< Good. Because he will not either. >
I looked down at the beyblade. At the dark phoenix etched into metal that had nearly consumed me.
"One question."
< Speak. >
"When light and darkness clash... what happens to the shadows between?"
A long pause.
Then, quieter than ever before:
< They learn which side they truly belong to. >
I smiled.
Not Kai's cold smirk. Not my old self's uncertainty.
Something new. Something forged over fourteen days of fire.
"Then let's find out."
The wind carried my words away into the night.
Tomorrow, everything would begin.
Tomorrow, I'd learn if I was the rival...
...or the villain.
And honestly?
I didn't care which.
As long as I was strong enough to stand my ground when Storm Pegasus came for me.
"Let it rip," I whispered.
And somewhere in the darkness, the phoenix laughed.
End of Chapter 4
Please give me honest review on chapter 3 and 4. They took me a lot's of time to write, suggestions are welcome for future chapter's.