Torches illuminated the dark hallway as the man ran down the hallway, leaving a trail of crimson drops of blood in the sand behind him. The man's breath wheezed raggedly in his throat and his sandals made loud clopping sounds as he pounded down the hall. His ceremonial robes billowed at behind, the golden mark of the pharaoh on his back reflecting the firelight.
The man cried out and fell to his hands and knees as the ground began to move beneath him. Dust rained from the low stone ceiling as the Earth shook, the ancient temple quaking from the force of the battle being waged outside. The man cowered in the sand until the quakes subsided, then climbed to his feet and kept running.
Sweat poured down the man's egyptian features as he turned a corner and came face to face with the entrance to the inner chamber. The door, if you could even call it that, was an enormous slab of sandstone with the mark of the pharaoh painted in the middle. The massive stone that served as a door and barricade almost liked a wall or dead-end, but the man knew better. Grimacing in pain as he did so, the man raised his right arm from beneath the folds of his robes and held up his golden DiaDhank so that it was in full view of the mark. The man hurriedly murmured an incantation, lightly pressing his DiaDhank against the mark of the pharaoh as he did so.
As the man finished the spell the mark of the pharaoh began to glow with a brilliant golden hue and the sandstone slab moved to the right with a rumble, uncovering the entrance to the inner chamber.
The man sighed with relief and ran into the chamber as the sandstone slab slid back into place behind him. The inner chamber of the temple was an enormous square room that was lit by dozens of torches and braziers that lined the walls. Hieroglyphics and paintings adorned the walls, depicting images of Egyptian life, the gods, the lineage of the pharaoh, and most of all: monsters. Three gray tablets lay in the center of the room, surrounded by a huge and complex array of circles, squares, pentagrams, hexagrams, and other shapes drawn on the smooth floor in chalk. The kingdom's high priests, gathered from every temple in all of Egypt, were bent low to the floor at various points in the array, furiously scribbling hieroglyphics in chalk. Another man stood in the center of the array, his hands on one of the tablets.
The figure wore an ornate cream and purple colored robe with the mark of the pharaoh intricately outlined in gold on the back. The figure's sandals, unlike the plain brown ones worn by the priests and the man, were painted gold and adorned with precious stones. Around the figure's head was a band of gold, and golden jewelry hung from the figure's neck and ears.
"My lord!" The man cried out, falling to his knees. The figure took his hands off the tablet and turned to face the man. He was a young man in his twenties. Black kohl painted around his eyes accentuated his noble egyptian features. Around his head was a circle of gold, with an eye of gold on his forehead.
"My lord Pharaoh, the enemy has reached the temple!" The man cried out, lifting his head to look upon his ruler. The priests all began to cry out and shout at once, their words overlapping into an unintelligible babble. The Pharaoh held up his hand and the room immediately fell silent.
"Speak," The pharaoh ordered, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver up the man's spine.
"Our warriors and duelists have fallen," The man said, sweat and tears stinging his eyes as images of his brothers being slain filled his head. "The enemy's army is vast, their fighters demonic. Even our finest duelists were no match for theirs. The last of the royal guard is making their final stand at the temple gates. The city is being laid to waste, and the blood of your subjects has stained the sand crimson. The leader of your duelists used nearly all of his ba to summon the Mystical Beast of Serket, but even he was being overwhelmed when I was ordered to report to you."
The Pharaoh pursed his lips and the priests began to wail.
"All is lost!" One cried.
"The kingdom has fallen!" Moaned another.
"My lord, we must flee!" Said one priest. The pharaoh turned on the man, his face a mask of anger.
"As long as I live, Egypt has not fallen," The pharaoh said, causing the priests to scurry back. "Now, is the spell ready?"
"Y-y-yes, my lord," The pharaoh's high priest stammered. "It has been finished, but we will not be able to speak the incantation before the enemy reaches us if the situation is as dire as this man claims it is."
"Well then there isn't a moment to lose," The Pharaoh said. "Begin the incantation, I will go and face those foolish enough to invade my kingdom." The Pharaoh held his arm aloft and shouted words in the mystic tongue, and in a flash of gold light his Diadhank appeared on his arm. The priests turned and toom up various positions along the perimeter of the array. As one, they held their arms up and began to chant. The hieroglyphics began to shimmer with a gold light and the array itself began to crackle with magic energy.
"No my lord!" The man cried, throwing himself in front of the Pharaoh. "You mustn't go! These duelists, they use monsters that have never been seen before! Ungodly, vile creatures from the deepest depths of the shadow realm! Please, stay here. I-I-I will go and hold the enemy off myself!"
The Pharaoh smiled at the terrified man in front of him. Sweat poured down the man's face and stained his robe. The man's knees knocked together and the Diadhank trembled on his arm. A thin trickle of blood ran down the man's right leg; he was clearly on his last legs.
"No, you must be the one to stay here," The Pharaoh said, laying his hand on the man's shoulder. "Should I fall in battle, you must stay to guard these priests while they finish the spell."
"But my lord, without the power of the gods of Atem-" The man began to argue, but the look in the Pharaoh's eyes made the words die in the man's throat. The Pharaoh wasn't showing it, but an inferno of fury burned in his eyes. Despite his calm demeanor, the Pharaoh was beyond reach. His subjects were being tortured, murdered, defiled. His beautiful and mighty kingdom was being destroyed. The Pharaoh would stop at nothing to deliver judgement to the people who thought they could conquer Egypt.
"I do not need the gods of my grandfather to defend my country," The Pharaoh said, pushing past the man. "It is time these invaders saw the power of the Pharaoh." The man's hair stood on end as the Pharaoh walked past him, his body reacting from the unbelieveable amount of duel energy the Pharaoh was exuding. The man turned and watched as the Pharaoh strode towards the door. The mark on the door began to glow as the Pharaoh approached and the slab slid to the side, allowing the Pharaoh to walk out of the chamber.
'Fight well, my Pharaoh.' The man thought, turning back towards the priests.
Less than a minute later, the ground began to shake again, but this time the quakes were far more powerful than they had been. The ground rocked and the stone of the temple groaned and shook. The man covered his ears with his hands as he began to hear primal roars and hisses and explosions like claps of thunder from outside. The battle went on for what seemed like an eternity, and the man began to wonder if it would ever end. As the quakes got worse the man worried that the ground would split and swallow him whole, sending down to meet the gods and demons of the underworld. All the while the priests maintained their composure, chanting as one even as the battle outside continued. The array glowed brighter as the priests went on, to the point that it hurt the man's eyes to look directly at it.
The man cried out as the ground shook harder than it ever had, sending the man flying to the floor as dust and rocks fell from the ceiling. The stone walls and ceiling cracked with the force, but the floor and array remained intact. And then, as suddenly as the quake began, it stopped.
The man slowly lifted his head from the floor, spitting sand and dust from his mouth. The ground was still, and the only sounds were the priests chant. Whatever had happened, one thing was certain: the battle had ended.
The man slowly got to his feet, dusting himself off as the priests behind him seemed to reach the final stage of their ritual. Their voices reached a crescendo and the light began to glow even brighter than it had been. Blue bolts of magic lightning arced out from the array, striking the tablets slowly at first, then faster and faster.
The man watched as the stone tablet themselves began to glow with a blue and gold light. The priests lifted their arms higher and the tablets slowly lifted off the floor. The man tasted copper as the amount of energy in the room increased further as a jagged line of gold light appeared above the tablets. The tablets floated higher as the line began to separate into two and move away from each other, creating a rip in the fabric of space.
Suddenly, the man was thrown off his feet as an explosion behind him destroyed the sandstone slab of the doorway. Hooded figures wearing black cloaks poured into the room, fanning out around the man and the priests. Strange swords hung at the hips of each figure, and around their arms were even stranger devices. They were obviously Diadhanks, but unlike the gold winged designs of Egypt, these were straight, unadorned, and made from a strange black metal.
If the priests noticed the intruders they made no sign of it and continued to finish the incantation. Suddenly, the figures in the doorway stepped aside to create a path for a newcomer.
Unlike the black cloaks of the others, this man wore a pure white robe. His hood was down, but a plain white mask hid his face from view. The mask was completely blank, the only features being two eyeholes and a thin rectangle for a mouth. Fastened to the man's arm was another black Diadhank just like those worn by his followers.
Wordlessly, the masked man raised his hand and the hooded figures all raised their Diadhanks at once.
The man jerked and raised his Diadhank, his lips moving and forming the words as fast as they could.
"Come to my aid!" The man chanted as the hooded figures began to mutter their own summons. "Now in my time of need, guard from all attack! Save me and the people of Egypt from harm! The divine bulwark! Defender of the Pharaoh! Come forth, The Millennium Shield!"
The man gasped and fell to his knees as all of his ba was ripped from his body. The man had never attempted such a high level summons before, and he wasn't sure if it would work. But, miraculously, the shield appeared in a brilliant flash of gold light. The shield was vaguely kite shaped, crafted from gold and a strange red metal. Three diamonds were inlaid on the front of it, as well as the mark of the pharaoh.
The shield descended and hovered in front of its master as the hooded figures finished their own summons. Dozens of creatures materialized in front of the figures who summoned them, but their shapes and forms were hidden by individual clouds of black mist. The figures raised their hands towards the man, and black bolts of lightning erupted from the black mists and arced towards the man, only to be deflected away by the shield.
Suddenly, there was a huge flash of blue light behind the man. The attacks stopped momentarily as the figures gawked at whatever was behind the man. The man turned and saw that the tablets were each cracking and breaking apart. Blue cracks of magic appeared on each tablet and ripped of chunks the size of a fit off of each tablet. The chunks were then sucked into the rip in space and vanished.
The masked man grunted loudly, drawing all attention back to him. Frantically, he pointed away from the man and pointed towards the priests. As one, the hooded figures began to redirect the attacks towards the priests.
The man screamed as one of the priests was struck down by the attacks, the progress of the ritual visibly slowing without the magic he had provided.
"Defend the priests!" The man screamed at the shield as another priest fell. The shield instantly moved away from the man and hovered in front of the priests, defending them as more and more chunks of the tablets broke off and flew into the void.
The man heard footsteps behind him and turned just in time to see the masked man drive his sword into the man's stomach. The man screamed and clutched the blade as the masked figure ran him through, the point of the sword emerging from the man's back and piercing the floor.
Blood gushed from the wound as the masked man twisted the sword and ripped out out, eliciting another scream of pain from the man. An intense feeling of cold settled on the man as blood poured from the hole in his gut. The sounds of the ritual and combat suddenly sounded miles away, and darkness began to eat away at the edges of the man's vision. The man gurgled softly and lifted his head, watching as the ritual finally began to end. Only one of the tablets remained, and it was rapidly breaking down and being sucked into the rift.
As the man's life force leaked away as he died, the shield began to crack and fade under the intensity of the attacks. The man grinned at the shield, silently thanking it as his soul slipped away. Without the power of its master to anchor it to the material plain, the shield vanished.
Within seconds the rest of the priests were killed, a barrage of black bolts of lightning killing them where they stood. The masked man stepped over the body of the nameless defender and strode into the smoke. Walking around the corpses of the priests, he examined the array and what was left of the tablet.
The shard that was left was hardly bigger than the Diadhank the masked man wore on his arm, the rest of the tablet and its two brothers lost into the void. The masked man growled and clenched his fists in anger. Kicking the bodies of the priests as he went by, the masked man strode out of the chamber, his followers trailing behind him.
Four other white-robed figures waited in the devastation outside the temple, standing together as the masked man and his soldiers emerged from the depths. They wore the exact same robes as the masked man, but their hoods were drawn to hide their faces.
"Well?" One of the figures said. "Did you retrieve the tablets?" The masked man growled and shook his head, gesturing to one of the black robed figures behind him. The figure jogged forward and handed the masked man the shard of the tablet that he was able to secure and backed away.
The white-robed figures all began to curse and groan, crowding around the shard.
"This is all that remains?" One asked. "Damn these Egyptians!"
"The teleportation spell they used was a powerful one if it took them that long to complete it," Said a second. "It may take hundreds, maybe even thousands of years to gather each piece of the tablets."
"This is all your fault!" The third roared, rounding on the fourth. "You should have beaten that sad excuse for a Pharaoh quicker, then we may have gotten to the ritual in time!"
"Shut up, none of us expected him to be able to summon the Five Headed Dragon on his own," The fourth argued. "He certainly wasn't as powerful as his ancestors without the aid of the gods or the millennium items, but he was still a worthy foe." The third figure scoffed and strode away from the group.
"Well, what do we do know?" The first figure said, eyeing the devastation their conquest had caused casually.
"Now, we begin the search," Said the second figure. "Mark my words my friends, we shall have the tablets of the Egyptian gods one day. Then the work of our master will finally be complete."
Hey there! Thanks to everyone who read this, I hope you liked it. I've wanted to write a Yugioh fic for awhile now, so I hope it turns out okay. Now this is a SYOC story, so please feel free to submit your own ideas to me! I'll be taking about 20 submissions to start, but I will reopen submissions every once and awhile as the story progresses. The template is in my bio, so please head there if you're interested. If you liked the prologue of this story and want to see more, then please let me know by following, favoriting, or leaving a review for this story. Thanks again, and I'll see you all on the flipside.