Chapter Twenty-Seven: Beacon of Hope

Biting down hard on his lower lip, he struggled to free himself from the chains that bound him to the rack. Show no pain. Show no weakness. Do not give the enemy the satisfaction of seeing his hurt. A ring of fire encircled him, flames lapping at his skin, the searing heat threatening to cook him alive like a pig on a stick.

Kai wanted to cry. He wanted to scream, but he could not, would not let the enemy be satisfied. Beads of sweat rolled down his neck, his body contorting in pain, like a worm wriggling out of a tight hole. He clamped his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut as his skin met the end of a hot iron rod. This was the fate he had agreed to. He was in the Leviathan's realm now.

"I will break you," the woman said, peering down at him through dark eyes, her right hand clasped around the rod. In her left hand, she gripped the hilt of a small, rusted knife. She brought the knife to his face and pressed the tip gently against his right cheek. "I knew we would reunite, but I didn't expect to see you so soon."

Through clenched teeth, he said, "You will never break me."

The woman threw her head back and laughed. "It's only a matter of time before I have you begging for mercy…" She slowly dragged the knife down in a vertical line down his cheek, applying enough force for the tip to break the skin. Blood seeped out of the cut. "Your skills might have served you in the world above, but here in purgatory it means nothing. How does it feel to be so powerless, Kai?"

She was right. Whoever this woman was, she was right. As strong as Dranzer was, she couldn't break him free of this place. "Just… Who are you?" Kai said through clenched teeth, trying not to express pain. He would not give her the satisfaction. No. He would not break. Could not.

"I am the Lost. The One With Many Faces."

"What do you want from me?"

"You were the one who was supposed to bear the Mark and spread chaos across the world. Engulf the world in shadow." She traipsed the blade across his right cheek, stopping just above his chin. "You had a taste of power once. Black Dranzer. A creature of the Leviathan. Don't you miss that feeling?"

He forced a grin. "Had a taste of it then decided I didn't want it."

"I can see into your heart, Kai. Losing hurts your pride. You want to be strong again. To be the best once more. You can't lie to me."

"I wouldn't be down here if you were right," Kai replied with a sneer. "I don't want power. I don't seek fame nor glory. I've had a taste of darkness and I don't want to go back. You think you know me, but you don't. But what can I expect from a creature whose heart is as black as the night itself?"

That earned him a slap in the face. "The Tyson you knew is going to die. A slow painful death. The sickness will spread. He'll lose his mind, and his spirit will be broken. He'll be one of us. A servant of the dark. And you can't stop it. You're powerless. But you've always been weak." She spat in his face.

"You're not real," Kai grimaced. The Leviathan was playing mind games with him. He hadn't seen any other humans down here when he had fallen. Why would there suddenly be a human now? It was just his subconscious mind playing tricks on him, manifesting in different ways to torment him. Wasn't that the definition of suffering? "And you can't talk to me about helplessness. The Leviathan serpent is here too."

"But his influence reaches far beyond this realm. The Mark of the Leviathan that your friend bears, and the bitbeasts still roam free."

War. Famine. Pestilence. And Death itself. The four bitbeasts had escaped their blades just before the ground crumbled beneath them. Now they had scattered to different parts of New Zealand, and possibly even farther than that. They had damned the world just by winning the final battle. "Tyson will find a way to overcome this challenge. He always does," Kai replied in between deep breaths.

The Lost forced the knife in deeper. He hissed. "No one escapes the demons. You can't run from what is inside you, and I think you know that better than anyone else. The darkness remains with you," she replied, pulling the knife away. "You fought a valiant fight, Kai but your efforts are in vain. You can't defeat the dark."

His wounds slowly repaired. He wasn't even sure how. It wasn't as if he were living in a separate reality – his friends were on the surface still, and if they could emerge victorious, he'd return. It wasn't as if he was dead. He could talk. Breathe. He could even bleed. The Leviathan was keeping him alive. But why?

She brought the knife close to his face again. "You chose to throw yourself down here to seek penance for your sins, but you will not be absolved of them. You'll submit to the darkness that lives inside you even if you do not bear the Mark. The Leviathan is darkness."

She lifted the knife then plunged it into his left shoulder blade, driving it in deep. Cold metal tore into his flesh. Face contorting in pain, he clawed at the rack, his fingernails failing to leave a dent. She withdrew the knife, eliciting a grunt to leave his throat. But the wounds repaired as soon as they had been inflicted. Even if it was all just in his head, everything hurt like it was real.

"You're not going to succeed because darkness will not triumph over the light."

"Do you really think you've escaped the demons of your past?" She placed the knife's tip against the ring finger on her left hand and started removing the flecks of blood beneath the nail. "Because you can't outrun what's part of you." She stabbed him again.

He screamed.

.

Oliver lay on the hospital bed and looked up at the ceiling. Rays of sunlight poured through the open blinds, filling the room with warm light. Normally, he'd greet the sunshine each morning with a smile on his face, but there was nothing to smile about today.

Although the operation had been a success, a part of him had been permanently removed. His right leg gone. In a few days' time he'd hopefully be given a new robotic leg to replace his lost one. But for now, he had to recover from the first operation – mentally and physically. That seemed like a mountain too high to climb.

There was a knock on the door. "Oliver?" Enrique's voice.

"You can come inside, Enrique." Oliver bit his lip, trying to prevent it from trembling.

The door opened. Enrique flashed him a grin. "You seem well. The operation was a success."

Of course. The operation was never in doubt. Money wasn't a problem for him. He could afford the best of everything. But did he really deserve it? There were other people more deserving of a life-changing operation. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, struggling to hold the tears at bay. "You came."

Enrique grabbed a chair and pulled it up beside the bed. He was fortunate to be in his own private room. Having to be in the same room as other patients would've been too much to bear. "Of course, I did. You're my best friend, Oliver. I'd be a piss-poor friend if I didn't come to check on you. Robert and Johnny will be here later. Robert flew back to Germany and Johnny is… Well. I don't know what he's doing. Probably annoying people as usual. But I'm here. How are you feeling?"

Oliver snorted. "What do you think, Enrique?" It wasn't like him to be snappy with people, let alone Enrique. The blond didn't seem bothered – if he even noticed. "I lost my leg. I missed the tournament. Kai and Tyson are missing. I haven't even begun to decode the secrets of this book." The book that held the secrets to understanding the Leviathan better.

"But you're alive. You could've died, Oliver. Any of us could've. But we didn't."

Not surprisingly Enrique missed the point entirely. "I might as well be dead. Even with a new leg, it's not going to be the same. No amount of money can bring back what I've lost. Nothing can replicate my real leg." Beyblading was certainly out of the question now. He wouldn't have the time to practice and compete at the highest level.

"Your life is worth more than a leg."

"You still have your legs."

"I do."

Oliver wiped his eyes. "I don't know what to do."

It could've been worse. Much worse. At first, he was certain he'd never be able to walk again. That he would be doomed to be wheelchair bound for the rest of his life. But technology had fortunately come a long way since, and the robotic limbs were a reality. "I have to wait until the prosthetic limb is ready. They're custom made."

"And how long is that going to take?"

"Anywhere between two to three weeks for a temporary one. Two to six months for the fitting to happen." Which meant he'd be stuck in a wheelchair for a few weeks until the temporary one arrived. That meant facing the media for the next few days and answering their questions. They always wanted to know every detail about a famous person's life, especially a billionaire's one. Stories would be made up. Rumours would spread. He'd be spending a lot of time and effort quelling those rumours only for more ones to be made up.

"You'll get through it, Oliver."

Enrique was positive. How could he not be? He still had two functioning natural legs. "I'm no good to anyone and you know it. I can't run a business like this. I can't blade anymore. The two things I love the most and I can't do them no more." Sure, he could still sit behind a desk and run the finances but would grow old fast.

"But you still can. It won't be the same, but you don't have to give up what you love, Oliver. It won't be easy, and adjustments will have to be made, but it's always possible. We could even start a new way for people to beyblade – people with disabilities." Enrique paced back and forth, rubbing his palms together in a rushed manner, as if he were trying to generate heat quickly.

Oliver didn't fail to miss the gleam of excitement in his eyes. The man already had ideas brewing in his mind. "People with disabilities?"

Enrique turned to face him. "You could be the spokesperson for the event, and the rest of us could fund it alongside you. There are always people out there complaining we don't do enough for the community… Well, this would be major for the sport."

Enrique had a point. Currently, beyblading was only practiced by the healthy and the fit. He had never seen a kid in a wheelchair blade. "It's… a solid idea."

"Despite what Johnny thinks, I do come up with good ideas. He's just never around to hear them. Oh, did you happen to learn more about that odd book Robert found? Robert thinks there's something in it that could help us find the answers to defeating this Leviathan creature." Enrique walked over to the window and peered down.

"I haven't had a chance. My thoughts have been elsewhere."

The blond turned around. "Well, when you get the chance… Give it a read. It'll clear your mind. We're champion bladers, remember? We always overcome our challenges. We're warriors." He laid a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "We don't give up. That's not who we are."

Perhaps Enrique was right. Perhaps he was overthinking things and jumping to conclusions too quickly. After all, the prosthetic leg hadn't arrived yet. "You'll help me, won't you? Organize this disability blading academy?"

Enrique nodded, pulling his hand away. "Of course. I'll let the others know. I've gotta go. I'm supposed to be meeting Rosette and Bianca later. Promise is a promise after all. I'll see you later." He headed towards the door.

Oliver rolled his eyes. Typical Enrique. He watched the blond retreat then turned to the book on his bedside table then reached over to pick it up. "Now, what secrets do you contain?" he murmured.

.

"Those people are going to keep causing issues. They need to be stopped," Brooklyn said, walking up to Mystel. The blond was standing on the cliff's edge, gazing down at deep blue lake. They were currently at the lookout for Cecil Peak and Double Cone in Queenstown. A beautiful scene. Mountains in the background behind a large blue lake. Like something out of a fantasy movie, but it was real. It had been Garland's idea to come here to take their minds off recent troubles.

Mystel turned to his head to face him and sighed. "We don't even know where they are."

"They'd be looking for you. I doubt they're going to leave until they get what they want – you," Brooklyn replied. A strong breeze blew through the air, brushing up against his skin, and rustling his hair. But it did not bring relief. The air was heavy, as if we were in a sauna. In the distance, he could see thick clouds building in the horizon.

Mystel sighed, keeping his eyes focused on the valley below. "Knowing them, they'll want to be somewhere quiet and near the mountains. That's the environment they know well. We still have that Leviathan business to worry about. We saw what happened in that stadium. Those things escaped."

"Tyson bears the Mark of the beast now."

"Do you know anything about it? Zeus is a Leviathan creature."

Brooklyn nodded. "I'm more worried about Tyson. I know what darkness can do to people firsthand. It slowly erodes the mind. You descend into insanity and it's hard to claw your way back out. Tyson hasn't dealt with such a dark power before… And someone of his caliber… That's dangerous," Brooklyn mused, rubbing his chin, his brows furrowed.

He wasn't doubting Tyson's chances of overcoming the Leviathan's influence, but it would be difficult. And the boy was presumably alone. No one had seen him since the victory. Kai was also missing, and that was a major issue. Kai knew how to keep Tyson in check, and Tyson valued Kai's advice above everyone else.

"We can't do anything for Tyson. He's on his own now," Mystel replied. "Our fight is elsewhere." Stopping the Bai Hu Clan before they tried something else.

"Indeed. What do you know about them?"

"They're loyal."

Brooklyn rolled his eyes. "I figured that. What about adding batshit insane to the description?"

Mystel nodded. "That too. But they're not stupid. I joined the Order several years before Boris picked me up. They taught me everything I knew. We were supposed to attack the White Tiger Clan… That's where I was stationed. I was supposed to analyze all their moves. Understand their way of life. Look for weaknesses in the clan. Course, that's when Boris found me. He was on some spirit journey. Anyway, I agreed, but I stayed there. You watch someone for so long and they become part of your life. It's hard to walk away from that."

"You think they'll strike the White Tigers then? It's a perfect time. Foreign soil."

Again, Mystel nodded. "They've been planning this for a long time, and I know them best."

"What do they know?"

"Everything."

Arching a brow, Brooklyn said, "Everything?"

"What? You think I walked away without telling them what I knew? I thought if I shared some information maybe they'd let me walk. I had almost begun to believe I had escaped until they showed up before the tournament." Mystel forced a dry laugh. "They're not going to stop coming after me until they get what they want – my allegiance."

"Then we stop them."

"We don't know where they are."

Brooklyn rubbed his chin. "Can't you call her?"

Mystel rolled his eyes. "Call her? After our last meeting? I don't think that would be wise."

"How else are we going to find them?"

He sighed. "All right. I'll call her, but she'll probably not want to talk." Digging a hand into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and dialed Mariah's number. He was diverted to voicemail. "She's probably blocked me."

"I'll call her. She doesn't know my number. But you know hers." Brooklyn pulled out his phone then handed it to Mystel.

"Better you talk to her. I don't think she'll want to talk to me." Mystel took the phone and entered Mariah's number in. After a few rings, he handed the phone back to Brooklyn.

"Hello?" Mariah's voice. "Who is this?"

"Brooklyn."

A pause then, "Brooklyn?"

"Yes. That's my name."

"Why are you calling me, and how did you get this number?"

"Mystel. Look. You and your tribe are in trouble. We need to know where you are."

"Trouble? What? How?"

Brooklyn rubbed his left temple and sighed. "The Bai Hu clan. They're still around. They want you lot dead. I know you and Mystel aren't on the best of terms right now, but now isn't the time for fighting. So please, where are you?"

"White Horse Campsite near Mt Cook National Park," she replied.

"Great. See you as soon as we can get there." Brooklyn hung up on the phone then put it away.

"That was a bit rude," Mystel pointed out. "You hung up on her."

Brooklyn sighed. "We don't have time to waste. It's like four hours to reach that place from here."

"We don't have a car."

"There's always tour buses going down there. We can get on one of those."

"Yeah, good idea, but money is an issue. We used everything on the hotel."

Brooklyn thought hard. "We can ask Garland. He's probably got some of his own funds somewhere stashed away for a rainy day. I'll talk to him. You just wait around here and find something to do." Before Mystel had a chance to respond, Brooklyn walked away to find Garland.

Garland was easy to find. He was talking to a few young kids who seemed to be very interested in his beyblade. "…Well, I can offer a few tips… Oh, you want some advice? Well…"

Brooklyn kept his distance. That was the risk of visiting tourist hotspots. If someone from the public recognized you, they'd probably want an autograph or photos. Not that Brooklyn had an issue with that, but his thoughts were elsewhere right now. He kept staring at Garland, testing the theory people could tell if they were being watched.

Garland looked up and turned around. His eyebrows lifted when he spotted Brooklyn. "…I have to go, but I'll talk with you all after lunch, okay? Yes, I can help you with your techniques…" The kids, of which there were about ten, all said their goodbyes and left. "What's the matter, Brooklyn?"

"You're popular."

Garland nodded. "The next generation of beybladers coming through. There's a practice dish not too far from here. Kids come here to play with their friends and show off their skills in the dish. Reminds me when I was growing up as a kid. I took every opportunity I had to practice. So, let me guess, something happened."

"That obvious, huh?"

Garland folded his arms. "You have that pensive look on your face."

Brooklyn sighed. Was he really that transparent? "It's the Bai Hu Clan. We know they're still around here, and they're going to go after the White Tigers. Rival clans and all, and this is the perfect opportunity to take them down. Foreign soil. No home ground advantage. It's perfect. The White Tigers are staying at Mount Cook National Park near the campgrounds there, and I think that's where the Bai Hu Clan are going to be," he explained.

"And you want to go after them."

"Yeah. But we don't have the funds to get there."

"And that's why you're asking me."

Brooklyn mustered up a smile. "You guessed correctly. I know we're stretched thin financially. Ming Ming used the last of her savings to get us here in the first place…"

"And you think I have money too."

Brooklyn shrugged. "…Yes? We just need to get on a tour bus that's leaving today."

"When you and Mystel were off fighting off rival clans, I took part in a tournament and won the top prize."

"Congratulations."

"It wasn't difficult. But I can give you the funds you need to get on this bus, but on one condition."

"What is it?"

"You're going to show these kids how to blade later. We still have three more days here, so that means plenty of time to help the locals and promote beyblading. You're one of the finest bladers I know, and the kids would be very happy to have your help. Local tournament is in two days, so you do have time."

There was always a catch. Brooklyn sighed. "Fine. I'll do it. Just get this transport sorted."

"Excellent. It's time we give back to the world. Right. I'll organize it. You'll just need to go and wait outside the hotel entrance. I'll arrange something with the concierge." He didn't sound convinced. "There is a special tour bus for beybladers so I shouldn't have any issues getting you on. Special rates because of the tournament."

"Thanks, Garland."

"Just make it count. Go."

Brooklyn nodded. He turned around and left.

.

"Pierre was found dead," Dunga remarked.

Ozuma was sitting on the highest crate in the warehouse, his elbows resting on his knees, lost in his own thoughts. The tournament had ended on a sour note. Tyson and his friends had claimed victory, but it had come at a great cost – the lives of many innocent people caught in the crossfire of an ancient foe.

"The man was always foolish," Ozuma murmured, dropping down from the crate and onto the floor. "He allowed his fears to drive him to suicide." Although he respected the man for his knowledge, his leadership was questionable. Some of the decisions he had made in the past only harmed them.

"The tribe will need a new elder," Mariam said.

Joseph nodded. Pressing his palms together, he pointed at Ozuma. "That'll be you. You're the most qualified to lead. You know the rules well. You've practiced them for as long as I've known you."

Ozuma shook his head. "I am not a leader. I've made mistakes. Trying to lock away the sacred bitbeasts wasn't the wisest choice. I was blinded by my own desire that I did not see they were good people. A leader should not be blind."

"You did what was necessary, Ozuma. We all believed in you," Mariam said, sitting down on a crate. She swung her right leg over her left, a red apple in her left hand. "Do we really want a bunch of old people dictating the laws of our tribe? Look how that turned out last time. We'd all vote for you." She took a bite from the apple.

"I will not be able to blade again," Ozuma said, his arms folded. "Elders are not supposed to be distracted. The tribe comes first before personal interests."

"Not like we professionally blade these days anyway," Joseph said. "Heck, we weren't even invited to the third world tournament. Besides, we don't need fancy stadiums to prove how good we are. Trophies don't mean anything. If we feel the itch to go and test our worth, I'm sure Mariam can always convince Johnny."

That earned a chuckle from Dunga. Mariam glared. "Hilarious, Joseph. He's probably gone back home… Unfortunate. He still owes me dinner."

Joseph raised an eyebrow. "Wait. You'd actually let him wine and dine you?"

Mariam shrugged, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. "Why would I turn down a free dinner?"

"She's got a point," Dunga said. "The guy might be one of those rich snobs, but money is money. It's not like we've ever had the finances to do something like that." Pierre always said money was the root of all evil. A necessary evil, but it was best to avoid spending it on meaningless things such as expensive dinners and fancy hotels.

Ozuma wasn't convinced. The role of the Saint Shield Elder was not one to be taken lightly. There were many responsibilities as Elder. Such responsibilities included providing physical and mental training for all clan members which involved a series of tests. Sometimes it included mountain hiking in the rain. Other times people would be left in unfamiliar territory to test their survival skills. Elders had to implement a plan and then justify the benefits. "Do you like his company?"

Mariam folded her arms. "He's a rich snob."

"And you've got him wrapped around your finger. I witnessed your battle against him," Joseph pointed out. "He was totally outclassed. But you know watch yourself. He might be part of some old clan, but he doesn't act like a member of one."

Mariam nodded. "Noted, but I'm not concerned." She turned to Ozuma, flicking her ponytail back over her shoulder once more. "I'm just surprised you're actually encouraging me."

"Because I'm not going to hold you back, Mariam. For far too long we've always stuck to the shadow, trying to uphold the laws the ancestors made for us. These laws have been passed down from generation to generation…. The same laws that almost had us seal those sacred bitbeasts." He ran a hand through his hair, his expression grim. "I don't want us to live like that. We should enjoy our time on this planet."

Mariam raised an eyebrow. "Wait. You want us to have fun?"

After rolling his eyes, Ozuma replied, "After everything we've been through, I think we deserve it. You lot do anyway. So, enjoy it, Mariam. You've earned it."

Joseph grinned. "Wined and dined by a royal, nice!"

"You think Johnny will pay for us too?" Dunga said.

"You two would probably get into a fight over something ridiculous," Mariam said, her arms folded across her chest. "I'll be fine. I can handle him." The two boys exchanged mischievous glances. They probably plotted to spy on them both as a form of entertainment. Ozuma ran a hand through his hair.

"I'll have to talk to the remaining council members, and I have to do it alone. We'll talk again later, and hopefully I will be the next Elder and lead us into a new age."

The smiles faded. No words were said. They stepped aside and allowed Ozuma to leave the building. Someone needed to rally the tribe together to face their future.

.

Queenstown was known as the home of adventure in New Zealand's South Island, but there were plenty of non-adventurous things to do as well, such as visiting art galleries and museums. Tala had taken the team to the Lakes District Museum to learn about the early days of Queenstown and Arrowtown. It also included a history about beyblading for the local area.

"Why are we here?" Ian said.

"I wanted to learn more about beyblading in other cultures," Tala said.

Bryan frowned. "You've never shown an interest in this stuff before."

"We never had a chance at home." Boris and Voltaire didn't want them to be influenced by the outside world, so they always kept all beybladers inside. Only on rare occasions were they allowed outside and that was to practice in the elements to strengthen them. "I thought we should do something while we still had time left."

"We could've gone jet boating or something fun," Ian said.

Tala shook his head. "We are on a budget."

Bryan gave Ian a sympathetic look. "Sorry squirt."

"Don't call me that."

Spencer had wandered off to the eastern side of the museum. Preferring to not be involved in their pet names squabble, Tala walked away and joined Spencer. The tall blond was looking at a poster about mutant bitbeasts. There were even photos of Biovolt Abbey on it. "Biovolt Abbey. Just seeing those words makes my skin crawl," Spencer murmured, staring up at the poster.

"Mutant bitbeasts," Tala read aloud. "Created by taking the DNA of living animal species." His thoughts shifted to the room where the experiments took place. He remembered a wolf being stuck in a test tube. The poor animals enslaved by Boris for the sole purpose of creating bitbeasts.

Spencer glanced down at his blade. "Do you ever feel guilty?"

Tala shook his head. "It wasn't our fault, Spencer. We didn't know what was right or wrong at the time. We did as we were told, and we believed in whatever lies they spouted."

"Do you think about Boris? Voltaire?"

"Voltaire contacted me," Tala said, remembering the emails.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, alarmed. "He what?"

"He's in jail. I suppose he was hoping I would come down and visit him sometime, trying to lure me in with the promise of information. But I'm not so foolish to see that man. Not after everything he put us through," he said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And Boris?"

"He's in jail. That's the last I heard. He's supposed to be stuck behind bars for life."

"Good riddance to him," Spencer scowled.

Tala turned his attention away from the mutant bitbeasts and walked over to the next informative poster. This one was about prehistoric bitbeasts. There was even a poster about the sacred bitbeasts. Someone had clearly gone to a lot of effort to pull the information together. "What do you plan to do in the future, Spencer? What's your next move?"

"What do you mean?"

"I do not see a future in competitive beyblading for us."

Spencer nodded. "So, you were serious about retiring."

"Aren't I always serious?" Tala paused then added, "I don't believe we have anything more to prove."

"What about Kai?"

Tala thought hard. He still didn't classify Kai as a friend, but the boy had gained his mutual respect now. He bore grudging respect during the Bega tournament but battling Kai and losing made him realize Kai had changed for the better. The guy was still an ass of course. That wouldn't change, but Tala couldn't hate him. Not anymore. He had to move on. Kai certainly had.

"He's earned my respect. He's proven to me twice now that he's changed, and not for the worse. In some ways I think changing teams so often only made him realize just how much he needs the Bladebreakers…. Avengers. Whatever they call themselves now." Kai was always switching teams, trying to find what which one best suit his interests. But he always came back to Tyson. That's where he belonged. "Kai has found his place. He'd never admit it, but he's happiest with them."

Spencer nodded. "So, what are your plans then? We're still going to be together, right?"

"I will disband the team, but we will always be friends. We do not have to be a competitive blading team to remain together." He glanced over at Bryan and Ian. They were now looking at some paintings of old historic sites. "I want to give back to the community. Help kids that were like us from meeting the same fate."

"You want to become a coach?"

"We could do something like Biovolt only without the cruelty and experiments."

Spencer stroked his chin, thoughtful. "Like an academy?"

"But for poverty-stricken kids. For kids who grew up in orphanages like us. It should be free to people who come from broken environments, and we can train them to become elite beybladers too."

"How are we going to fund it?"

"Donations."

Raising a brow, Spencer said, "That seems risky."

"I don't want Boris's money. It could take years to settle the finances in the courts anyway. We'll start off small. People know who we are. We're a global name and we can use that for the better. It'll be hard, but achievable."

"What brought this idea on? Sounds like you've been thinking about it for a long time."

Tala nodded. "Ever since the end of the tournament, and Voltaire's message. I don't know why they let him have a computer, but I guess he's earned a few points for good behaviour." After a pause he added, "Tyson's battle against Alexander got me thinking. Alexander was forgotten. We didn't even go back for him. We were there when he was taken away and punished, and we didn't do anything to intervene. We were like Alexander, Spencer. At one point in time, we were that kid."

"We can't be held responsible for what happened to him."

Tala shook his head. "In a way we are. We were all raised in the same place. We all endured the same punishments. But the system we had only allowed the strong to progress, and the weak were just cast away, forgotten. Alexander is forgotten once more." He fell silent, letting his thoughts drift. Alexander was a victim of Boris too. The boy had deserved better. They all had. "I don't want people to suffer at the hands of a madman and have their lives ruined before they even had a chance to live it to the fullest."

"Have you told Bryan and Ian?"

"Not yet. In time. They look a bit busy." He stifled a yawn then gestured to the posters. "Looking at these posters reminded me of the lives we had."

"Unpleasant thoughts, but we can't remain victims of our past forever."

Tala sighed. "Indeed. Well, I think the others have had enough of museums." Ian was now complaining his legs were hurting from all the walking around much to Bryan's amusement. "We should return to the motel."

"I'll get them."

Spencer was right. They couldn't remain victims of Boris forever. They had to move on. It was said time healed all wounds, but sometimes time alone wasn't enough. The scars would never heal, but they would serve as a reminder to not repeat the mistakes in the past.

.

Max returned from the café, carrying two paper cups of hot chocolate. He placed the cups on the table then sat down opposite to Rei. Kenny was on his laptop busy tapping away, so engrossed in the screen he didn't even realize they had sat down. "Daichi is arriving today. He should be here shortly if the flight schedule is on time," Max said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. "I keep thinking about Tyson, and the ordeal he must be going through."

Rei nodded, a grim expression on his face. "You're thinking about Mark."

The Mark of the Beast. A symbol of darkness. "Poor Tyson," Max said. "He needs us. But there's no way to know where he is. He won't call or anything. We don't even know if his phone is with him. Maybe he dropped it and it fell through that crack. But if anyone can find him it'll be my mum. We found Kai in Russia at that lake. We can find Tyson too."

"How is Hilary?"

"At the hotel. She's extending our stay for another week," Max said. He looked to his right and noticed one of the planes landing on the runway. "That should be Daichi's flight." He stood up. Both Rei and Kenny rose to their feet too.

Kenny closed his laptop and tucked it under his arm. "Did you tell him about Tyson?"

"Yes."

"How did he take it?"

"Hard to tell over the phone." Max led the group towards the international arrivals waiting area. He didn't imagine Daichi would have any suitcases to pick up. Knowing Daichi, he probably only brought the clothes on his body, his flight details and identity documents, and his beyblade equipment. "There he is!"

Daichi hadn't changed. He still wore the ripped-up clothes, and he still had that lively gleam in his eyes. The look of a warrior who had endured many battles over the years. "I would've thought you had enough money to wear some proper clothes," Max joked, approaching Daichi.

Daichi glanced down then up. With a frown he said, "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Nevermind."

"You look like you've been busy," Rei said.

Daichi nodded. "I've been practicing."

"Looking to compete in another world tournament?"

"I don't need to compete on the world stage. I've proven how good I am. But I need to beat Tyson."

Max chuckled. "Still determined to beat him."

"I'm never going to want to stop beating Tyson. I know I can beat him. I just need to be stronger."

The kid's enthusiasm was admirable, but somehow Max doubted Tyson would come back the same blader he was before. How could any of them ever go back to the way things were? What other challenges were there to overcome? "You'll beat him one day, but first we need to find him."

"So, what's been happening? You said Tyson had gone missing. Where's grandma?"

They walked out of the airport. As Max had suspected, Daichi had no luggage to pick up. That saved them a lot of time. "Grandma?"

"Hilary. The wicked one."

Rei laughed. "Your energy was sorely missed, Daichi."

"I had to leave. City life isn't for me. Too noisy. Too distracting."

"I can relate," Rei replied.

They walked out of the airport and headed towards the long queue of people waiting for cabs.

"Hilary is at the hotel extending our stay here. We can't leave New Zealand until we know what happened to Kai and Tyson. There's also the Leviathan bitbeast. Four of them escaped and now they could be anywhere," Rei summarized.

"What about that traitor, Hiro? I'd like to challenge him to a fight too."

Max and Rei looked at each other. No one had heard from Hiro since the tournament. The man had simply disappeared again, and he had never bothered to explain his reasons for leaving. He had no concept of the word loyalty. "No one knows. He just left. Again."

Daichi snorted. "Typical. We're better off without him anyway."

More taxis arrived. People filled them up quickly, and it wasn't long before Max and his friends were able to get inside one of the taxis. An elderly man looked at them. His face brightened. "Oh, I know you from television! The G-Revolutions! Truly inspirational battles against those BEGA people from last year. My son is a huge fan of yours. He's watched all the matches on the television. He wants to be a famous blader like you too."

"I'd be more than willing to lend him a few tips someday," Max said.

"That's wonderful! He'll be so delighted to hear that!"

"I can write my number down. Do you have something I can write it down on?"

The man pulled out a business card from his pocket. He also gave him a pen. "Just write it on the back there. Yes. That's fine. Thank you so much."

"He can have my number too," Daichi exclaimed. "I'm also a world champion. Daichi."

"Oh, of course, certainly."

Max handed Daichi the pen and card over, struggling not to break out into laughter. Daichi was still so eager to please. The boy reluctantly handed the card to Rei. Even Kenny scribbled down his details. "Here you go, sir," Rei said, handing the card back.

"Thank you so much! He'll be eternally grateful. I can't believe I have the G-revolutions… the Avengers… In my cab now. My wife will be so proud. Oh. Forgive me. I've gotten ahead of myself. Where can I take you?"

"Brisbane Marriott Hotel please."

"Right away, good sirs!" He turned the radio on. "Please, feel free to change the station."

"Thank you." Max cycled through the stations. Whakaka Beats. The Rock FM. Two music channels. He skipped them. He wanted the news. Newstalk ZB.

"…The beyblading world tournament afterparty has been delayed… Many people injured during the stadium collapse…. Two people have tragically died from their injuries…"

Perfect. He turned the volume up. Kenny started tapping away at his laptop again and Daichi kept peering over, trying to make sense of his notes. Rei just looked out the window, lost in his owns thoughts. Max looked out his own window paying attention to the news. They were reporting facts he already knew.

"…World class beybladers Tyson and Kai remain missing… The Four Horsemen team recovering in hospital… Oliver Polanski receiving treatment for an undisclosed reason…"

Max switched the radio to one of the music channels. Some Kylie Minogue music played, but he didn't recognize the song. Still, it was better than listening to the news. Tyson and Kai still missing. Oliver recovering from something major. It seemed they'd never get a chance to rest.

"Wherever you both are, I hope you're okay…" Max murmured.