The city lights shimmered like nothing was wrong.
Crowds talked, laughed, carried shopping bags.
Life moved normally — like Axamu didn't just lose his world.
He followed Baito in silence.
Baito hummed cheerfully, spinning a key on his finger.
"Underworld hides better when the surface is happy~ Eh he he~"
They stopped between two brightly-lit stores — one a café, the other a toy shop.
Between them sat a narrow, dirty alley — so thin it looked like trash delivery only.
Neon reflections faded as they stepped inside.
The sound of the world died behind them.
Drip…
Drip…
Water fell from rusted pipes above.
Walls scraped Axamu's shoulders as they walked deeper, like the city itself was trying to push him out — or swallow him.
At the end of the alley was… a metal door.
Graffiti marked it like warnings from past souls.
Baito tapped it twice.
Metal creaked.
A hatch slid open — eyes peeked
The door unlocked with a heavy clank.
They stepped inside.
---
Underground Arena Hidden Beneath the City
Stairs led downward — dim, narrow, echoing with the thump of muffled cheering.
Axamu walked like a machine.
Emotion gone.
Eyes drained of light.
With each step, the cheering grew louder
Rougher
More desperate.
Then—
The underground room opened.
A secret arena hidden beneath the ordinary city.
Dirty concrete.
Pipe-lined ceiling.
Flashing cheap lights.
A crowd shoulder-to-shoulder around a steel cage Beyblade ring.
Gambling slips and money waved in sweaty fists.
Voices shouted:
"C'MON!"
"FINISH HIM!"
"ONE MORE SPIN!!"
No armor on the players.
Just normal clothes.
Wrists taped.
Faces bruised from recoil.
Pain in their eyes — but no one bleeding.
Inside the cage, two teens clashed Beys with everything they had — bodies jerking with each collision.
CLANG—!!
GRRRN—!!
Sparks spit from metal rails.
Plastic cracked.
One kid staggered back from impact recoil, clutching his arm, breathing hard.
The other forced himself forward for another launch, shaking, exhausted.
Then— BURST.
Pieces flew.
Gasps.
Then an uproar.
The crowd roared like beasts.
Money exchanged hands.
The loser fell on his knees, drained.
The winner pumped a trembling fist, barely standing.
Axamu stared blankly.
Not fear.
Not shock.
Just emptiness.
Because nothing outside hurt worse than inside anymore.
Baito spread his arms proudly.
"Welcome to the alley that the city pretends not to see~"
He chuckled, voice twisting.
"Welcome to the Underworld, Axamu."
Axamu's gaze didn't move.
The crowd screamed.
Lives gambled.
Dreams shattered.
Not a single passerby above knew.
"Here," Baito whispered, leaning close, voice like a broken music box,
"pain becomes purpose… and the forgotten can spin again."
Axamu still didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
His silence was heavier than blood.
Deeper than the arena.
The silence of someone already dead inside — but still walking.
---
The steel stairs creaked as Axamu followed Baito up the hidden passage.
No sound from Axamu — only slow breaths, eyes empty.
Halfway up, Axamu stopped.
There she was.
The white-haired girl.
Huddled in the stair corner, arms wrapped around thin knees.
Bandages across her neck and arms.
Dull silver hair covering expressionless eyes.
A forgotten ghost.
People walked past her like she didn't exist.
Axamu stared.
No emotion.
Just silent recognition of another broken thing.
Baito scoffed with a mocking giggle.
"Eheh~ still rotting there, huh? Trash like that never dies."
Axamu said nothing and moved again.
---
Underworld Management Room
Dim red screens flickered.
Voices murmured.
Smoke drifted lazily over a metal table.
Figures in shadow turned as Baito pushed Axamu forward.
"Brought a new one~" Baito grinned. "Fresh despair, eheh."
One of the higher-ups tilted their head.
Cold eyes scanned Axamu like examining merchandise.
"This place is not a shelter," a voice cut sharply.
"We don't take refugees. Who is he, Baito?"
Baito shrugged, still grinning.
"Just some brat I found in the alley~ He looks like he finally gave up on life. Perfect underworld material, yes?"
A smirk from a shadow:
"Many think they belong here. Most die mistaken."
They expected Axamu to flinch.
He didn't.
"Speak," another demanded. "State why you came."
Silence.
Then Axamu raised his arm and pointed toward the stairwell.
"…Give me that girl."
The room froze.
"…What?" a voice snapped.
Axamu repeated, tone dead flat:
"That girl downstairs. The white-haired one. Give her to me."
Baito burst laughing.
"Ehhh~? That broken thing? Why her? Choose a real fighter or worker — she's useless~!"
A sharp voice silenced him.
"Quiet, Baito."
A low chuckle followed.
"You want that girl? This isn't a charity. You don't get to adopt trash because you feel pity."
Axamu's eyes remained hollow.
"It's not pity."
A beat of silence.
"…Then what?"
Axamu answered like stating an ugly truth:
"Do i have to answer?"
The room stilled — amusement, curiosity, danger all blending.
"Very well."
A leader leaned forward; his face remained hidden, only glinting eyes visible.
"You can have her."
Baito blinked. "H-huh?"
"But—"
A finger tapped the steel table.
"To earn someone abandoned by this world, you will fight for us."
Axamu asked without hesitation:
"How many battles?"
"Four."
"Win all of them. If you lose even once — she remains here. Maybe worse."
Axamu nodded immediately.
Baito made a shrill noise, unsettled.
"That's seriously what you want? Not power? Not money? But… that dirty broken girl?"
A long silence.
Then—
"Welcome to the underworld, Axamu Riya."
Whispers curled like smoke.
Baito clapped excitedly.
"Hehehe~ Let's see if you survive long enough to regret that choice~ Eheh…"
Axamu didn't respond.
His eyes were steady.
Not hopeful — determined.
---
The meeting room door shut behind him with a solid metallic thud.
Axamu began descending the dim steel stairs.
Footsteps slow. Echoes hollow.
Air cold enough to sting.
He didn't look at the white-haired girl on the landing.
Not yet.
His thoughts slipped out like whispers scraping against broken glass.
> "It's not like I have pity for that girl…"
Another step.
Dust drifted in the dead air.
> "I was thinking to use her."
His hand brushed the rail, but he felt nothing.
Fingers numb.
Mind quiet like a dead room.
Below, the girl remained motionless, face buried in her knees, like a discarded object someone forgot to throw away.
Axamu's gaze didn't soften.
His eyes were void — a pit that swallowed feeling long ago.
> "I have to win four fights to get her. Four."
A faint breath. Almost a laugh, but not really.
> "Endure a little pain while fighting… Not a bad deal."
He reached the landing.
The fluorescent light above flickered.
The girl didn't react.
Still breathing. Barely.
Axamu didn't crouch or speak to her.
He walked past her like she was furniture.
> "If I lose, I die."
His footsteps echoed down the stairwell again.
> "So I don't mind at all."
A dry, empty truth — spoken only to himself.
> "Since I already lost everything."
Not sadness.
Not despair.
Just a dead fact.