A/N: This story follows DSOD, therefore it follows the manga, not the anime. Otherwise, Seto Kaiba wouldn't be so emo.

Extended Summary: Silent about what happened in the afterlife, Seto Kaiba immediately returns to the mechanic comforts of his technology in order to fuel further plans for the Quantum Cube. In the mere span of one month, he continually isolates himself in his space station and singlehandedly finds a way to use the Cube in order to transport himself between dimensions of the same world, hoping to find a reality with a breathing Pharaoh. Seto's reckless impatience with finding his rival will hatch its own consequences, and it will take a deranged journey of multiple universes for him to come to terms with his grief disguised as a malignant desire of supremacy.

But he won't be alone. Enter a resourceful woman with familiar white hair and eyes of blue whose being can only be calculated to exist in one reality. She proves to be valuable and her longing to escape her current life makes her the ideal travel companion - ideal in the manipulative sense that he could use and discard her later for his own gains. That is to say, if his growing fondness for the unfortunate woman doesn't sway his mind.

Stage One: Shock I

Some people experience out-of-body sensations as an initial response to loss.

"Until your heart weighs less than Ma'at's feather, you are unable to face me in this afterlife. Only then will you cease this futile pursuit, and open your eyes past Ammit's jaws. You may return when you've found and embraced the light for that gnawing darkness you cling to."

Dull cobalt eyes struggled to peak open as harsh blue light was the first to greet Seto Kaiba's weary awakening. Soft pillows and crisp cotton bedding were replaced by hard steel for his lying head and swivel chair for his body. To think by now, he would have installed a bed of some sort in his otherworldly domain - a highly identifiable Kaiba Corporation satellite in dead space linked by means of tubular elevator to Earth. However, he knew that if he had a bed right there, it would coax him into a much needed and unwanted slumber, and impede his urgent research.

If the Pharaoh would not have him, then Seto would find an alternate solution, one to satiate his primal cravings of triumph, victory, dominance, and all words associated. His late rival's Ancient Egyptian jargon would occasionally slip into his short episodes of light sleep, fading away into a meaningless void as soon as he awoke. He had a stubborn will and the brains to find a way to circumvent the Pharaoh's wish, and the Quantum Cube glowing in brilliant bursts of golden light in his hand held all his answers.

"MOKUBA KAIBA IS ON CALL."

The A.I. of his space station announced in a volume loud enough for Seto to clearly lift his lids. He glanced toward a large screen projection above several computers and weakly said, "Accept."

The concerned face of his thirteen year old brother appeared. How different did those violet eyes of his brother appeared to be. Now on the cusp of adolescence, Mokuba Kaiba had the faintest signs of growth. He looked rather tired, rivaling the state that Seto was currently in, and was dressed in pajamas speckled with little cartoon dragons.

"Seto...when are you coming back down?"

"If today is a success, then soon," Seto wryly answered.

"Are you eating properly? You look sick," Mokuba commented as the area between his eyebrows continued to wrinkle together, "It's like 3:42 A.M."

"There are no time zones in space," Seto replied. He wasn't lying. Time no longer functioned as it did on Earth, where it was marginalized as a human construct, and the only light he experienced closely was from the blue light of his devices. He asked, "Hold on, what are you doing up at this hour?"

Mokuba's eyes lowered, avoiding Seto's interrogating glare. He softly responded, "I can't sleep. Not when I know what you're about to do…not when you refused to return even after the previous trip. It's been too long, Seto. I-I support you in any way but-"

"I'm sorry, Mokuba," Seto firmly declared, yet not a trace of sincerity seemed to be given. It was an apology out of convenience. He couldn't hear anymore from his little brother, lest the guilt overcome his main objective. He continued, "But this is something I have to do."

"Sometimes I feel like," Mokuba's eyes flashed forward, and his face contorted into one of near anger. That brief glint of frustration dialed into one of submissive acceptance. Once again, a look of anxiousness emerged.

"It was like I watched you die…" Mokuba sputtered as he recalled not only a month ago he watched his brother fade into abstract light with undetermined return, "And you're thinking of going back...I can't bring myself to see that again!"

"I'm not going back there," Seto corrected, "The risk of my death is substantially less for this one."

"That's a lie! This journey isn't any less dangerous than the last one...you don't even know one hundred percent what can happen. Seto, you didn't even tell me what happened the first time! And those threats about starving yourself to death if we sent up a person instead of microwave dinners and ramen boxes...even if that person was me..." There was a subtle crack in Mokuba's voice as the boy exclaimed in rasps. His voice grew softer and he pleaded, "Please. Come back before you kill yourself."

"If I have returned from the afterlife, then I can certainly from this. Do you trust me, Mokuba?" Seto listlessly said. He wouldn't have it. Not when he was so close again.

A defeated look settled across Mokuba's face as he reluctantly answered, "I always have."

"You're in charge."

"I know."

And with one click, Seto severed the remaining connection between himself and his only relative.

The dismal silence that fell afterwards gave him a moment's reflection. Mokuba had repeatedly declared that he wouldn't see him off this time, in hopes that Seto would retreat. Seto didn't entirely believe him at the time, but his little brother had kept his word. Despite living alone for the past month, bereft of any human connection, only now did he feel loneliness in its truest form.

One look at the swirly mass of azures, emeralds, and milky white clouds in the expanse of planet Earth was enough to make Seto sick. He had finished showering, dressing, and eating in preparation for his journey. As he peered through the expansive windows of his space station, he once again wrapped a hand around the Quantum Cube, letting its self-emitting warmth act as reassurance for his actions. Soon, the sun would pervade Japan.

He had lied. His return to the real world had nothing to do with his own technology and everything to do with the Pharaoh's obscure powers. There was no guarantee he could be back again, but that was a fact best kept to himself. With a sharp turn of his heel, Seto briskly walked away from the sight of Earth. He wouldn't have any of the Pharaoh's rejections and none of his useless advice. He would find him in more ways than one. Even if it meant that death's hands were wrapping around his neck, the remnants of his defeat in Battle City that had plagued his head and evolved into a monster was more terrifying than death itself. It was all worth it in the end.

Blinking lights and various displays automatically came to life as Seto entered one of numerous testing facilities. He unwaveringly strode toward the center of the machine-infested room, where a single pod speckled with a plethora of buttons and controls was awaiting. Once he had placed the Quantum Cube in its respective slot, the pod came to life, and its cover opened as a haunting greet. He wasted no time to situate himself within the pod, settling into the comforts of a cushioned seat.

"Multiverse Dimension System activate!"

In the blink of a millisecond, reality crumbled around him, and his body was no exception to the shocking pulses of disintegration. Unlike the previous time, he could suddenly feel physical pain seer through his skin, invade every cell, and tear apart the smallest atom. Nuclear. It was certainly torture on a nuclear level, incomparable in pain to any scar on his back and arms. His eyes, even if they felt like they could pop out at any moment, widened to a ghastly radius as his mouth did the same and released a blood curdling scream that no one in millions of miles could hear as he plummeted straight down to Earth. Every fiber in his body melted into a flurry of cadmium ambers and golds, as far as his eye could see, and for the briefest of moments, wailing roars as far as his ears could hear.

Bits of wet pebbles scraped against his cheek as he felt his face come forth with the texture of rocky gravel. His tongue managed to accidentally roll out and taste the grime of tar and trash. It smelled like the city, the one Seto temporarily forgot the name of as the neurons in his brains struggled to return to normalcy, but it was a stench that could make his stomach forgo ten meals. Faint sounds of sirens and cars honking that indicated typical city traffic could be made out in the distance. His hands quivered as he attempted to push himself up. Even with his eyes tightly shut, he was accursed by visions of electric sparks and kaleidoscopic shapes. The aftershock of dimension travel was significantly more taxing, as he even noticed that the smell of burnt ashes wasn't coming from surrounding garbage, but from himself. He didn't factor in safety measures after how rushed everything was, and that was perfectly predictable.

After multiple efforts, Seto managed to have his feet on the ground. His right hand grasped his left arm, the one that usually held his duel disk. His head and back remained low, as if there was something weighing him down. His eyelids fought gravitational force as he tried to lift his head, shaking at every degree. One tentative foot reached forward. The mere pressure of having it resettle with the ground sent unparalleled pain signals to his brain as he winced his eyes back shut.

No. I can't stop now. I will find you, Pharaoh. Even if I have to cripple myself.

Stubbornness that trademarked Seto's persistence regenerated energy as he fought against each painful step. He had to get somewhere because staying still led him nowhere. Amongst the cacophonous sounds of the city, his ears suddenly focused on what sounded like footsteps ahead. They were quick and indicated running strides, and they hit the occasional puddle that could be identified with mushy sounds of flying water. And then, he could swear that they stopped. His nearly defeated eyes cracked open as he himself paused his steps.

Light softer than one from the screens of his devices accumulated to one focal point in what he assumed to be blurry lines of a dark alley. Pipes and electric lines became one, and he could make the faintest silhouette of what appeared to be a glowing figure a couple feet away, saturated by a beam of natural light. His eyes squinted to make out the person's identity as his right hand released his arm to hold over his eyes.

"It can't be..." a silvery, feminine voice softly remarked from the light, "Dead men can't walk."

Before his lips could part, his knees gave away first, and the sheer impact of collapsing against the unforgiving ground was absolutely inconceivable.

...