A/N: Hello, everyone, Frost here. I'm a fan of exploring alternative timelines and 'imperfect' resolution scenarios to see how things go down story-wise if just one tiny thing changes. In this particular case, the change here is "What if Reiji beat Zarc in episode 140 before the four cards could be properly used by Ray?"

For now, I hope to explore the immediate aftermath of this change and possibly more about the characters of Zarc and Ray (especially the latter, given the incredibly small amount of screen time she got). If I manage to write a bit more on this fic in the future, I hope to explore their actions and mentalities in the new 'imperfect' world as well as possibly look back into their pasts before ARC-V occurred and perhaps experiment a bit with Duel Writing as well.

The black dragon roared in anguish, eyeing the barely conscious bodies of the Duelists that had dared to challenge him upon his resurrection. One by one they had fallen, trying to call out to a name long forgotten, then turning to more vile words; coward, liar, pathetic scrap trying to assert his superiority.

As much as he hated to admit it, Zarc was mentally and physically wearing himself out after having to smash aside six Duelists in a row. His vague, fragmented memories of Yuya- no, his vessel had told him that they were some of the strongest duelists of each dimension, all bearing down on him to recall the boy they thought of as some sort of inspirational hero.

He'd told them that boy was gone. There was no verdant haired Yuya with flaring ruby eyes, no more dark-cloaked Yuto, no more brash-blue-balled Yugo, and no more violet scarred Yuri - they had all become one, restoring him. His true, original self.

Had they not wished it? Had those same duelists, telling Yuya, half of him, snapping, chomping, biting at the cage that held him back, to beat his final opponent - his other half, no less? His thoughts flickered to the one that had given that wish - a young man with greying hair, perhaps from sheer stress, his cold eyes flickering with determined flames as red as the glasses that A rimmed them. And that name... Akaba Reiji... it reminded him of the woman he knew.

The traitor.

"Sakaki Yuya!"

That name again. Zarc clenched his teeth, as a familiar, former... comrade, no, enemy, walked up to him, past the bodies of his defeated enemies, past the ruins of the Academy's laboratory, past the fallen body of his balding father, Akaba Leo. Zarc barely knew this man, and yet he already felt torn by two emotions - resent and trust.

Yuya clearly had never made up his mind on this man, the leader of the Lancers. And given his weary state, Zarc realized he'd have to made that decision now.

"Akaba Reiji!" The black dragon roared, thrashing his tail about in a display of intimidation. "I praise you for getting this far."

The Lancer's reply only infuriated him more; Reiji didn't seem to be staring at him, but rather something behind him. Something, he had firmly stated over and over, that was long gone.

"Yuya." The man...no, the boy with glasses began, activating his Duel Disk and taking a combat pose. "I cannot win without you, you were the original pioneer of Pendulum!"

How dare you...

"So please, Yuya, lend me your stre-"

"SILENCE!" The dragon roared his back, the green lines on his neck flaring up in rage as his wings exploded outward. In that moment, Zarc didn't give a damn how tired he was, how little he was thinking straight, how likely he could lose, because he was damned tired of everyone treating him as if he was the vessel and he had no right to exist when they had brought him back in the first place!

ZARC: 2000 - 0

REIJI: 500

No.

"Now, Yuya!"

No. No. NO.

"Come back to us!"

. .

"You've lost, Zarc! Now return Yuya-"

"NOT LIKE THIS!" He roared, striking back with every inch of his...fading? tail at the damn man, the damn thing that was making his body tear itself apart and his cards...wait, his cards...

They fluttered before his eyes, whispering malevolent disapprovals, disappointing litanies, words of abandonment, as the pictures on them turned white before his eyes.

The monster spirits were abandoning him. He had failed to be the messenger for their cause.

And their departure came the departure of his power. He could feel it being sucked out of them, turning his pitch black skins that vibrant, warm pink... something that... traitor had loved.

If all he could do was fall, where would he go once he hit the ground?