The plan was simple, and it should have worked. Leave it to him to trust in the Pharaoh just this once, Yami Bakura thought bitterly. After his earlier appearance and defeat, he couldn't very well emerge again so soon; the Shadow Game Scott Irvine programmed had rules, after all, and while the panic he'd instill in Yugi and the others would be a delight, it would be counterintuitive to his main goal—a goal that, for now, aligned with his enemies: getting out of this virtual nightmare and back to the physical world.
He hated this passivity, but having no choice in the matter left ample room to observe. And for a while, all proceeded as planned. Through his host's eyes, Yami Bakura heard the rudiments of their plan to take the crazed technician down; what it lacked in theatrics it made up for in efficiency. While Yugi would attack Irvine directly, his pack of friends would attack and disable the four circuits feeding the simulation, weakening the program's proverbial limbs while Yugi went for its heart.
And Bakura had no reason to doubt the plan would work. The Pharaoh had the devil's luck to have bested him once again, and his friends, while insipid, were known for their tenacity. Even his host was a strategist, though his skills paled in comparison with the spirit himself, Yami Bakura thought with a chuckle.
He had to keep amused somehow, for this situation was no longer amusing at all.
What had been a minor annoyance at first—oh look, some nut's trapped you all in a multiplayer RTS game to feed your souls to DarkNite, isn't that nice—had spiraled out of control in a heartbeat. For despite Yugi's best efforts and Scott's ravaged team, the technician had succeeded in his goals. He'd summoned the Card Guardian to this virtual realm with intent to bring him to the physical world, and DarkNite had wasted no time in summoning an Egyptian God—Obelisk the Tormentor.
It was around this time that Bakura had cursed Zorc, cursed himself, for making such a wayward creation; what was the point of a lesser god of darkness if fools like Irvine could summon him on a whim and he could grow strong enough to rival his creator? At least DarkNite's brother, Manawyddan fab Llyr, had been laid to rest long ago. This one just wouldn't stay down, and DarkNite's threat to devour them all would—well, the Spirit of the Ring had no intention of being fed to himself today.
Still, Yugi's friends had done their job satisfactorily. Mako and Espa Roba's teams had taken down one circuit, Joey and Mai another, Tea and Tristan tag-teamed a third, and, Bakura noted with a glimmer of pride, his host had taken down the fourth. With the simulation damaged, Obelisk wasn't at full strength, and while the ensuing battle was difficult the Pharaoh had prevailed. Everyone on their team had breathed a sigh of relief. They'd won the game; they were getting out.
If Yami Bakura had the energy, he'd have told them otherwise, but the Pharaoh did for them—he knew from experience that the darkness never played fair. And he'd been right. Infuriated by this latest indignity, DarkNite shed his humanoid form and emerged as a skeletal being of immense power, known as Nitemare. Bothersome enough, but then he'd gone and re-summoned Obelisk at a much stronger level.
As he'd done with Marik and his accursed other half, Bakura had no choice but to trust in the Pharaoh once again. He watched, with rising annoyance, as Yugi's group's efforts to contain the spirit now had no effect; Obelisk the Tormentor was as strong as its name implied, perhaps even more so with the Shadow Game in effect. He watched Yugi's team, exhausted from their earlier fight, retreat to heal up before attacking once more. At least he was being smart about this mess.
But Bakura had no words for what he saw when Obelisk, in one blow, annihilated Yugi's team completely. The Pharaoh cried out and crumpled under the strain, falling to his knees, and Bakura spat in disbelief. To have the Pharaoh and his vessel fall to something he himself had created—it was both infuriating and completely unsatisfying. Bakura felt as enraged as he imagined Marik would be if his thugs had killed the Pharaoh instead of himself. Always, thrumming through his veins, pulsing through his host's stolen heart, there was the promise of laying his enemies low with his own two hands despite all else they'd face.
And now it was denied him.
Of all the times he'd dreamed and plotted and even prayed for this moment, he'd never thought it'd be like this. And now the victorious Card Guardian was laughing, the sound echoing through the walls of their virtual prison. Yami Bakura swore he heard Scott Irvine's laughter mixed in, which grated on him even more—it was one thing to lose to a god; quite another to lose to some scientist in over his head.
Yugi's friends rushed to his aid, circling around the Pharaoh to offer what meager protection they could. Bakura watched as his host joined their number, begging Yugi to open his eyes. It couldn't end like this, he yelled.
For once host and spirit were in agreement, but to Yami Bakura's dismay—he refused to think this was fear he was feeling—the Pharaoh's life force was quickly leaving his body, followed by Yugi's. Per the rules, their souls were now tribute for DarkNite, or whatever he'd become, and with that added power boost it was increasingly unlikely any of them would survive this. It wasn't like they could run; Nitemare blocked the only exit, and even if they managed to evade him and escape to the real world it'd do them no good. The machine had to be off for them to regain control of their physical bodies.
As one, Nitemare and Irvine explained what would happen to Yugi and his friends. Getting your soul ripped clean from your body would only hurt in the beginning, becoming one with the darkness would grant them everlasting life—Tea shuddered at the implication they should be grateful to them—and their own souls would be added to Nitemare's form, forced to watch as he tore a hole clean through the physical realm and devoured all mankind.
For Bakura, though, he supposed it'd be a bit like falling asleep and waking up somewhere else. At least he hoped so.
Bakura felt the energy in the room shift the moment the soul-transferring rite was completed, and he knew they were done for. His attention was now split three ways—through his own senses, through his host's, and now through the dark spirit Zorc had given form. Nitemare considered those remaining as he would prey, deciding which mortal to attack first. His answer was made for him when Joey, fists clenched and tears streaming down his face, turned to face the wicked creature head-on with his team of monsters, headed by the Red-Eyes Black Dragon.
Joey fought to the end, but the end came swiftly as Obelisk's titanic fists atomized his monsters. The boy's last action was to spit at the monster's feet and yell for his friends to run, but Tea and Tristan and the rest wouldn't leave him any more than they'd leave Yugi. Bakura watched as his host had enough sense to not charge in blindly, but sent his monsters forward regardless. Inwardly, he cursed, but there was nothing he could do, if they were to try and stop Nitemare now they needed every bit of power they possessed.
Mai stepped up next, channeling her sorrow into rage and power, but while her Harpie Ladies were swift and had equipment almost guaranteed to paralyze an opponent, with the added strength and Nitemare's bolstered power Obelisk shrugged their attacks off as an annoyance. Tea and Tristan soon joined the assault, with Mako and Espa Roba trailing behind, followed by the NPC characters they'd allied with on the course of their journey. As one, they attacked.
Obelisk flinched, but didn't fall, and with a sweep of his arms and an array of white-hot lasers from the jewel on its forehead, all of the attacking monsters fell before him. Every one of them screamed from the connections to their monsters the Shadow Game had set in place; perhaps none screamed louder than Ryou Bakura, for his wasn't the only soul in pain.
Nitemare started to feed, and Bakura's consciousness began to slip away like water through clasped hands.
It was like Irvine said—excruciating at first, then closer to a gentle buzz, almost like slumber, as the darkness set in and began to eat away.
His strength quickly began to leave him, and he felt his host's heart beginning to slow, the body beginning to shut down. Part of Bakura scoffed at the quickness of the thing; even in victory DarkNite had no sense of flair and little sense of humor.
But he'd won, so what did it matter?
Hazily, as if in a dream, the spirit thought of the Ring, or the Puzzle, of any possible backup plans he'd had or would have had, but even those thoughts caught on the edges of the darkness and vanished.
Bakura half-imagined his host's terrified eyes as all sensation left him.
In moments it caught up to him, and he didn't have to imagine.
No sight, smell, touch, hearing, taste—barely any room left for conscious thought.
He could feel his soul eroding like sand, drifting to the Card Guardian and augmenting his form, a lesser god no longer.
The last thing Bakura had that resembled a thought was regret.
Then there was only infinite darkness.
Nitemare closed his eyes, opened them, and laughed.