The sun beat down on the cracked concrete of the park, the kind that had been there since before I was born. It was the perfect summer afternoon — no wind, no school, and just enough empty space to let my Bey rip without anyone yelling at me.
I crouched near the edge of a faded hopscotch court, launcher in my right hand, ripcord in my left. My Bey rested snug in the prongs — a mismatched plastic hybrid I'd cobbled together over the years. The stickers were peeling, the tip was scuffed flat, and the clear wheel had gone cloudy from countless crashes.
Still, I loved it.
Primordial Abyss Snake. That was my Bey's name. Mine. Ethan Kael's.
The name had popped into my head when I was nine, watching old Beyblade V-Force reruns on a tiny secondhand TV. It sounded cool back then, and somehow, it still did. The black shell with green accents gave it a mean look, even if it couldn't compare to the flashy stuff kids posted online now.
I adjusted my grip, feeling the sun-warmed plastic against my fingers, and yanked the ripcord.
Whrrk!
The Bey shot forward, spinning across the hopscotch lines and into the smoother patch near the slide. I followed it with my eyes, listening to the familiar plastic whine of the tip on concrete. Except… today it didn't sound quite the same. The hum was deeper, more like the way a metal pot vibrates when it's tapped.
I frowned.
Living alone meant I had time for little things like this — time to notice details other people ignored. My parents were gone. An accident when I was too young to remember much. All I had was the small apartment they'd left behind, a monthly allowance from what they'd saved, and the promise from a lawyer that it would last "if I didn't waste it."
So, I didn't. My life was quiet, simple. Days like this were what I had.
The Bey clipped the base of the slide with a sharp tok. I winced, expecting it to wobble, but it kept going like nothing happened.
I bent down, scooping it up mid-spin. The vibration in my palm was stronger than usual, almost alive — like something was coiled inside, waiting.
A cloud drifted over the sun, dimming the park. I didn't notice the faint shiver that ran through the metal prongs of my launcher. Not yet.
I chalked it up to the heat, rolled the Bey in my palm, and let the court hold its breath.
The breeze picked up, carrying the smell of hot asphalt and something faintly metallic. I rolled Primordial Abyss Snake in my hand, feeling its weight shift ever so slightly with each turn. It shouldn't have felt this heavy — it was just plastic, after all — yet my palm ached like I'd been holding a real chunk of metal.
I set it back into the launcher and pulled again, slower this time. The ripcord slid out with a clean whrrk, and the Bey glided forward, spinning tight circles near the bench. The sound made me stop.
It wasn't the usual high-pitched squeal of worn-down plastic tips. This was lower, denser — a hum that felt like it came from somewhere deep inside the thing. The pitch even shifted slightly as it turned, like… like it was breathing.
"Okay, that's new," I muttered.
I stepped closer, crouching to watch it spin. Dust swirled lazily around the edges of its path, even though there was no wind here at ground level. Each time the Bey leaned into a turn, I swore I saw a faint shimmer, like heat haze rising off a road.
Then a shadow moved over the court.
I looked up. Clouds — big ones — were rolling in fast from the west, thick and dark, swallowing the blue sky. I hadn't checked the weather, but I'd been outside enough to know storms didn't just appear like that. The air had shifted too, heavier somehow, like the minutes before rain when every sound gets muffled.
Another launch, just to see.
The Bey shot off the launcher with more force than I'd put into it. I actually flinched at the sudden torque in my wrist. It carved a clean arc toward the lamppost at the court's edge and slammed into the base with a clang.
Not a plastic clack. A clang. Like striking steel with steel.
My heart skipped.
I walked over, expecting to see a chip or crack. Instead, it looked… untouched. No, more than that — the surface was cleaner than before, as if the impact had polished it.
The wind came suddenly, whipping my shirt against my side. The basketball net swayed overhead, chains rattling against the pole. Somewhere far off, thunder grumbled.
I stared down at Primordial Abyss Snake, still spinning near the lamppost as if nothing unusual had happened. The hum in the air seemed to sync with the hum from the Bey, each vibration crawling up my arm in time with the other.
The clouds above churned, their undersides lit in pale, shifting shades of green and gray. I told myself to pack up, to head home before the rain, but my feet didn't move.
I wanted to launch it one more time. Just once.
The air smelled sharper now, almost like ozone. Somewhere behind the clouds, lightning flashed.
The hum tugged behind my ribs, and my hands moved before my brain caught up.
I slipped Primordial Abyss Snake back into the launcher, my fingers tightening around the grip. The ripcord teeth clicked softly as I fed it in, each notch sounding louder against the low rumble overhead.
"One more," I told myself, though my voice felt small under the weight of the sky.
The air was heavy, pressing against my skin. Every breath carried that sharp, metallic tang, as if the storm itself had seeped into the park. My launcher felt different too — warmer, like it had been sitting under a lamp for hours.
I lowered into stance, eyes fixed on the patch of concrete between me and the lamppost. My left foot slid forward, knees bending just enough to brace.
Three… two… one…
The ripcord tore free with a sharper whrrk than before. My wrist jolted, the extra force making me adjust my grip mid-pull.
Primordial Abyss Snake hit the court like it had been shot from a cannon. The tip bit into the ground, carving a tight curve that launched it straight toward the lamppost base again.
The sound when it struck was nothing like before.
Not just a clang — a crack that rang up my arm, into my ribs, and somewhere deeper still. The metal-on-metal shriek lingered in the air, vibrating inside my skull. I stumbled back a step, heart hammering.
The Bey rebounded, spinning perfectly upright. And then… the world slowed.
Dust hung in the air, each particle drifting like it was underwater. The rattling chains on the basketball hoop swayed in slow arcs. My own breathing sounded distant, muffled, like I was hearing it through thick glass.
In the middle of it all, Primordial Abyss Snake spun at an impossible speed. The green of its clear wheel glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with the far-off thunder.
A sharp snap cracked overhead — lightning, though I didn't see the flash. The glow from the Bey flared, and every hair on my arms stood on end.
The hum from before deepened, low enough to feel in my chest. It wasn't just sound anymore — it was pulling at me, like gravity, like the ground itself wanted me closer.
I knelt, reaching for it. The moment my fingers brushed the side of the Fusion Wheel, the pull became a surge.
White light erupted in every direction, swallowing the court, the park, the sky. I didn't feel my body move — just the sudden absence of ground beneath my feet, the drop of my stomach as if I'd stepped off a ledge.
Somewhere inside the light, I heard it — a hiss. Not mechanical. Alive.
Then the thunder came, deafening and absolute.
The next breath I took wasn't in the park anymore.