A/N: Hii! First of all, to guest: I take concrit on all my stories! However, I'll be taking concrit from anyone who hasn't read the previous story with a large grain of salt considering this is a clearly labeled sequel. So, if the knowledge from the prior work isn't known... this story WILL be confusing
Secondly, there's a particular part towards the end of this chapter. If you've only read UtAT, you won't recognize that person. I wanted to pre-note this in case you feel lost. You might just be able to piece together who they are anyways, though. Hope y'all enjoy :D
Chapter Nine
Who Would Be God
Joey had sprinted back and forth across at least twenty blocks in the past half-hour. He stopped back at Domino Square and doubled over. A friendly voice from the clock tower said, "You'll breathe better if you stand up straight, actually!"
"Yug!" he exclaimed, breathless. "Tell me ya saw somethin- ay! Where'd the Puzzle go?"
"Oh!" His hands moved to his chest and grabbed empty air instead of the regular shiny gold pyramid. "I'm waiting here because the Puzzle's Spirit lended it to Rain. She's supposed to bring it back to the Square."
"And you believe it?"
Yugi twisted the toe of his sneaker into the concrete. "I know you have a bias, Joey, but she was really nice. I mean it. Hey, you look beat. Why don't we grab a bite to eat together?"
Joey huffed through his nostrils and ran a hand through his mane of golden hair. "Aight, but you're buying."
The little guy just laughed. What a charmer. Joey was able to smile. Kid was too pure. All the times the Puzzle got jacked and he gives it away. Whatever brand of bananas he was Joey never wanted to buy.
They passed their favorite burger joint. Yugi said, "Looks kinda busy, so the wait might be- oh, geez! Joey! Is that Bakura?"
He leaned over Yugi to get a better look. The white-haired dude was scarfing down burgers like when they found him raiding the Battle City blimp kitchens. Joey held a flat hand against the corner of his mouth and said, "Think he'll let us at his table?"
"Of course! He's our friend!" Yugi burst through the front doors and ran to Bakura's booth. Joey followed at a more reasonable pace. Truth be told, his legs were killing him. "Hi there, Bakura!"
His gorging halted for the briefest of greetings. Joey said, "Mind if we join ya, bud? Been a long day."
"It'd be my pleasure!" Bakura said with that sickeningly sweet smile. Joey wondered if he would be as popular with the ladies if they knew he could be possessed at any moment.
Yugi woulda gotten onto him for even thinking that, so he pushed the thought away. Joey cleared his throat. "Ay. You kinda dipped back there. We were tryna figure out where that dude Paradox went."
"What now?"
"Pair-a-docks," Joey repeated. "Big dude, bigger hair, biggest motorcycle. C'mon, man, that's gotta jog your memory!"
"Right," Bakura murmured. His hands were free of foodstuffs for the first time since they arrived. "I'm afraid I never personally met him. That was the Spirit, but he's gone now. He won't ever bother you again."
"Nice," was all Joey said.
But Yugi jumped to his feet. "You mean it? Did something happen?"
"Something good!" Bakura said. "And Rahlin is coming back, too! Let's celebrate!"
Yugi broke out into joyous laughter. Joey kept his arms crossed. Soul-stealing chick coming back was not a means for celebration. "So ya have no idea about Paradox? What about my Red-Eyes?"
Bakura offered that sweet smile of his. "Something tells me that, wherever he ends up, it'll be taken care of."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/
Verdant shades twisted into soft lavenders. The miniature aurora warped space and time, creating a portal. A massive, white duel runner sped through. Paradox's brakes left scorch marks upon the dirt.
He arose from his chariot and strode towards the edge of a deep crater. Loosing a sigh, he lifted his head to watch the sherbet sky. The Malefic Energy he worked so hard to gather was gone. Stolen.
Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He had failed god. He was humanity's last hope, a bastion for the survival of his race, and he failed. Paradox blinked away the tears. No giving up. God would scold him.
He turned back towards his runner. He could go back. He could always go back.
BOOM.
Black smoke stained the pastel sky. Shrapnel littered the wasteland. Paradox shielded his eyes as he looked directly into the flaming mess that once was his duel runner. His chance for the future, his escape, his hope, his everything had exploded into bits.
"Oh, no!"
The sarcastic cry originated from beyond the wreckage. Paradox rounded the mess, his steps wary. This area had been abandoned for years. The layout was flat dirt into trash dumps. Not a soul should have been there.
Yet there sat a man in a lawn chair with a soda in his hand. His wide grin said he was enjoying himself. The stranger continued: "What a spectacular coincidence! The exact spot you braked at just so happened to have a load of buried bombs beneath it!"
Paradox clenched his fists. "You- who are you? Some sort of future-destroying, foundation-desolating terrorist?"
The stranger adjusted his shades, flashed a grin, and said, "Sorta."
The tirade Paradox nearly started into would've lasted until the human was rotted flesh on a skeleton. The oddness of the stranger's actions gave him pause; the terrorist peered to his right, clicked his tongue, and began a one-sided conversation.
"Heartless? Me? It's a bit of fun. Ever had it? No, I'm not mocking you. Maybe I am. Whatever. Fine. You take it from here. My part's done."
He pushed up from his lawn chair and drew a revolver from his belt. Paradox took up a defensive position. The stranger spun the firearm on his finger and set it on his wrist. The barrel split into the zones of a duel disk. The card he removed from his inner coat pocket was handled with noticeable care. Gently, he placed the monster on his duel disk.
A font of light burst from the barren earth. A brilliant, white blade formed among the luminescence. Darkness sewed a knight's silhouette. The monster took up the sword. A black cape fluttered behind the knight's march.
The instant the knight stepped away from the light, she cast aside her blade and helmet. White hair spilled down her shoulders. A six-pointed star filled her left iris. Paradox's inhale hissed. He said, "Come to brag on your win?"
She shook her head. "My name is Rahlin. I'd like to talk to you about the future."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/
Rahlin and Paradox sat with their legs dangling over the crater. They talked about the complicated stuff. Conversations drifted by: of timelines, the particulars of time travel, the purpose of Malefic Energy, the fate of the future, the nature of humanity, and a castle in the sky belonging to who would be god.
The blush sky shifted to blood orange. The sun's disk wavered on the western horizon. Rahlin stared into the crater's depths, and Paradox watched the dying light. He said, "I see. The future I wanted and cycle0001, then, are one and the same. I have to do… nothing. I am not responsible for anything. What a- a light feeling this is."
An azure butterfly flitted around Rahlin's shoulders. She crooked a finger, and the butterfly alighted on the knuckle. "I believe Z-ONE felt the same."
"My preparations must have taken too long if god's castle had already appeared. Strange. When I was young, my parents said blessings arrived in disguise. I thought them foolish old bags."
"As children do."
Paradox chuckled. "Tell me. How much time do I have left?"
"I have no way of knowing. The moment the timeline is locked hinges upon Rain's actions in the past."
"This timeline and the brightest future are not yet assured?"
"Technically, no," Rahlin said. "You exist here as long as there are branches."
Paradox said, "When I disappear, we know the correct actions have been taken."
Her head rocked back and forth. The butterfly took flight. "Yes, but bad things could happen."
"Such as?"
Her sigh left her shoulders sagged. "I worry about Rain."
Don't we all, he wanted to add from the side, but it wasn't his conversation. This was about the two smart people. He crossed his arms behind his head and kept listening. Paradox said, "What- is this?"
He threw a glance over his shoulder to observe the pair. Holes appeared in Paradox's form like fire eating paper. The tips of his fingers were see-through. He held them up and watched the sunset through them.
Tears streamed down his face as he smiled and clutched his wrist.
"We've won," he eked out.
Paradox vanished.
The silence that settled was eerie. Rahlin kept watching the crater's darkness. He cleared his throat. "Damn. Never woulda guessed he was a ghost the whole time. Hella plot twist."
"I hope that's not your attempt at a joke."
"What would you do if it was?"
"I would tell you it's not very funny."
He faked a wound. She managed a smile. "Paradox was not a ghost. He is a memory."
"Didn't leave a lasting impression on me."
"And you are the memory of someone awfully cruel."
"True."
He plopped down beside Rahlin. The butterfly flittered in a circle around the both of them. She whispered, "You know I don't mean that."
"I know." They sat far enough apart to leave Paradox's space empty. "What did you mean about Rain?"
"Nothing special. The normal worries one would have about the safety of their family. The future is never assured, correct? I won't know anything until I see her again."
"She'll be fiiine."
"Ha. You're the last person I expected to say so."
He folded his sunglasses into the collar of his shirt and flopped down on his back. Dust stirred. He threaded his fingers beneath the base of his skull. "I'm more worried about past you. Seriously, you're telling these stories about being dragged into an oil puddle by a dragon arm and still expect the best."
She touched her lip. Her focus drifted up to the sky. Night captured half, and stars appeared over the east. "Oh. With Paradox gone… Kalin?"
"Me."
She showed a small smile. "Could I tell you about my time in Domino City?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/
./from a machine's journal
What is the song of isolation?
A heartbeat, perhaps – that which can only be heard when alone.
Too many situations leave my pulse thrumming in my eardrums.
Attempting to craft the song of isolation myself proved fruitless.
Rises and dips of notes cannot accurately share loneliness.
It struck me on any old day of the week.
The song of isolation is a scrape in the distance
one might mistake for a rap on the door
or a ring of the phone
until I realize
no one
would
/\/\/\/\/\/\/
Her body sank like a stone. The darkness went on forever. The dragon tearing at her became two, three, four, five. She struggled to escape their sharp claws at first. When she stopped counting the hours she'd been trapped, her struggling halted.
The slices at her limbs aimed to drain every drop of red blood from her body. The black ink filled the losses. All the while, the dragons screeched in pain as though sharing her suffering. She shut her eyes and longed to cover her ears. Stronger arms than hers held her wrists hostage.
The tortured dragons dragged her deeper and deeper.
Why should she hope for any more? She'd given up long ago. When Timaeus, Critias, and Hermos were still cursed, she swore she'd never have a chance to free them. After their miraculous recovery, she longed to escape the Gilded Gate. Perhaps Timaeus was correct; perhaps her wish was her bane.
Why did she want to escape the Gate? She wasn't close with other Duel Monsters. She spent her time mourning the three knights-turned-dragon. What was it that kept her staring outside, reaching for freedom she'd never attain?
There was something she wanted dearly and desperately, but she couldn't remember what it was. The first years of her life, she was complacent as to be a slave to others. The knights' fates and her hand in them changed her.
She didn't know her own name or her role in the world, but by all the stars in the seasky's foam, she would defy gods to achieve her goals. That was what she decided and what defined her existence more than any name could.
The Gilded Gate may have been a peaceful rest, but she never wanted rest. The knights were a cause to fight for. Being trapped stole away any drive she had.
At least, it should have. The odd return of Timaeus, Critias, and Hermos left her restless. What was the time period she had forgotten called? Right – the Domino Incident, Timaeus had said. He said she walked among the humans for a time.
That explained the single memory she retained: an image of a silver-haired boy sitting beneath an apple tree. Her mysterious blaze of defiance, her longing to escape her cage, her unexplainable want of something all traced back to that image.
A dragon tore open the skin of her wrist and screamed. Her blood appeared black in the low light.
She squinted.
Light?
Far above, the surface had cracked. White spilled through. Plinks sounded from on high. Green shards fell past her, pelting the iridescent wing webbing of the dragon to her right. Mist the color of emeralds floated in her direction like smoke in the wind. The verdant fog soaked into her open wounds. Every one of her muscles tensed. Her wide-open eyes shivered in their sockets.
Rahlin remembered.
A serpentine tail curled around her wrist. She snapped her arm out of the dragon's grip and reached her palm towards the crack of light. The monsters swiftly caught her in their clutches again, but she knew her call had been heard.
The white above shifted to blue. A single butterfly the color of the daytime sky circled downward. The daintiness of the insect unraveled the logic of whatever hell she'd been tossed into.
The sight of her butterfly brought back her last words to Ryo.
Those words…
Her fingers curled into fists. The butterfly was within reach. The starry dragon gripped her right arm, and a mechanical monster gnawed on her calves. The one bearing the seven colors of the rainbow kept her right wrist held tight. Her own Blue-Eyes White Dragon opened its maw so its fangs would pierce her eyes.
Those words would not be their last.
She ripped her arm out of the starry dragon's hold and crushed the butterfly in her grip. Blue flames raced across her limbs. Her white sword blazed into existence. The tortured dragons shied away from the light.
The Legendary Knight of Destiny bared her blade at her captors. In an unheard whisper, she pleaded, "Wait for me a little longer."
The starry one surged at her. She drove the sword through its skull. She kicked off its head and swam towards the surface. The light beckoned. Metal tendrils wrapped around her ankles. She sliced them off. The three-headed dragon whined and lashed out. She decapitated the central head. The other two shied away. The seven-colored dragon stayed beside it.
Rahlin dragged herself towards the light. She kept her hilt between her teeth as she stroked skyward. The cracks were an arm's breadth away. Her hand brushed the stony top of hell.
A roar deafened her. She spun and took her sword in her hands. The Blue-Eyes White Dragon gathered energy in its jaws. Rahlin braced herself. The dragon spat energy. The blast destroyed the cracked area. Stone debris sank like she had.
Rahlin saluted the Blue-Eyes White Dragon and swore to erase the pain glimmering in its irises.
She reached through the hole and pulled herself up. Her fingernails scraped wooden boards. She clawed and clawed to escape the nightmarish black. The substance clinging to her weighed tons. Her hands lost grip, and she fell back into the darkness.
Her sword fell faster than she did. The dragons dipped their snouts as it passed.
Her teeth clenched. She swam upward and tried again. The slippery oil caused her to lose purchase. A splash sounded as she collapsed. Whenever she got a hand to break the surface, one of her legs refused to cooperate.
Something firm supported her. The Blue-Eyes offered its head to stand on. Shock paralyzed her. The starry and mechanical dragons she had wounded offered their support, too. Altogether, the three lifted her out of the dark.
On the other side, she gasped for air. The inky substance slithered off of her as though it was oil and she water. She checked her arms for wounds. They were covered by a fine, black suit. No; it couldn't be. She tried to stand and stumbled. The same leg was crippled. She reached for her left eye and touched soft cloth.
This was her human form with which she walked Domino City, but why? How? She sat on her knees and observed her surroundings. Her breaths paused.
Before her was a stage and a grand, white throne. The large doors behind her would be impossible to open in her condition. That left her alone with and unable to escape the large figure sitting atop the white throne's high back.
"Your trap didn't work!" she shouted. No response. "Any attempt to try to keep me down will fail!"
Silence. Her head tilted the slightest amount. "Is… anyone there?"
The fabric of the figure's robes shifted over their massive shoulder pads. Fingertips appeared near the sides of the throne's back. "You're here."
The voice was metallic and raspy as though garbling through a speaker system. Rahlin forgot herself and attempted to stand. Her bum leg was like lead. She grimaced and said, "Who are you? What is this place?"
"This place is an anomaly of 'maybes' and 'what ifs.' Imagine a fork in a river. This is where it is decided which path the proverbial flotsam takes."
"I- I don't understand," Rahlin said. "This is just a room."
"Au contraire."
The white floor flipped in inch-by-inch tiles, changing the landscape. Wind tossed her hair. The material beneath her altered to dark red steel. The ceiling darkened, and the source of illumination came from below rather than above.
Air escaped her lungs. Rahlin was atop the construction crane she had scaled with Ryo. The glowing advertisements, ships skimming the bay, and shape of moon matched that night.
The mysterious voice boomed around her: "This realm is owned by those who exist within its bounds."
"Like the Gilded Gate," Rahlin said, breathless. "Why are we here, though? What does it mean?"
"The timeline is in suspension due to two branches being of equal chance. This will soon change, and my existence will fade. When it does, you will be freed from this miraculous imprisonment."
"You mean you're dying? Why?"
Rahlin blinked, and the prisoner appeared ahead of her at the edge of the crane. The prisoner sat in the same position as on the throne with their back to her. The scratchy voice said, "The concern plaguing your tone has no root. We met moments ago, and you have no inkling of my character. Rejoice in your soon-to-arrive freedom."
She ducked her head and pursed her lips. "You seem awfully calm about dying."
"Yes."
The callousness of the prisoner's words prickled her. She straightened her stance and shot the prisoner a firm look. "The world is wide and humanity is abundant. One cannot run out of purposes to live for."
"Finally you speak with logic," the prisoner said. "I am not inclined to battle that which is inevitable and inherently good, so I am at peace with fading."
"You must have performed mortifying acts to feel that way," Rahlin murmured. The prisoner offered no response. "I understand, though. I have made grand mistakes and paid the proper dues as is honorable."
"Honor," the prisoner repeated. "Would you be willing to entertain an old fool?"
Another zephyr passed. Rahlin had to tear her gaze away from Domino City and her mind away from memories. "Entertain how?"
"Would you be willing to tell me about yourself?"
The simplicity of the inquiry took Rahlin back. "That's, er, a broad question."
"Start with the basics. What is your name?"
"Rahlin Orichalcum."
A weight slumped the prisoner's shoulders and the same burdened their words. "Rahlin. Regale me with the most impactful moments in your past, and explain your aspirations towards the future."
She slacked so her legs sprawled. "In the recent past, I went through experiences that challenged my world view. I'm glad to say my opinions changed. For the future, I've… always wanted to be a scientist like my brother. It's more like a distant dream. My environment isn't conductive towards that sort of future."
"The unknowable nature of the future should give you hope, then," the prisoner said. Strange for the person so accepting of their death to bring up hope, Rahlin thought. "I am something of a scientist myself."
Her mouth opened slightly. "What kind?"
"Hm. I would self-identify as researching and inventing being my first priority."
Rahlin's hand spread on the floor as though wishing to crawl forward. "Have you invented anything?"
"Yes."
The pause left her tenser and tenser. "Do you not want to explain?"
"Years and years ago, I worked on a renewable energy project." The prisoner's head dipped. "One of many failures."
"What happened?"
The hands on either side of the prisoner lifted, disappearing behind their large frame. Their shoulders hunched. The tiles beneath Rahlin flipped like a chameleon's scales to rearrange the scenery.
She glanced up from the dark linoleum floor and had to stop herself from falling backwards.
A man in a lab coat with black hair spiked up on the sides reached for her. He was frozen in time like the rest of the scattered actors. All wore white lab coats like the man before her. A burst of rainbow light behind him outlined his frame like a saint in a stained-glass window.
Rahlin dragged herself a smidge to the right to see the kaleidoscope glow's source. Sparks flew from a massive, cylindrical device in the center of the room. Breaks in the containing glass suggested the object was on the verge of destruction.
A blond-haired man with a manic grin pressed his palm on the contraption's control unit. Everyone else had looks of horror, including the man reaching for Rahlin. She said, "What is this?"
"My perspective of a sweeping error," the prisoner said. "The reactor you see spun out of control due to its corrupt creators. I and many others contributed to the project, which envisioned a 'clean' energy source as they call it. Everyone you see in this memory passed away in the explosion."
Rahlin looked into the spiky-haired man's blue eyes. "Everyone?"
"The winding road the future takes cannot be foreseen," the prisoner said. "At our best, we react swiftly to disaster and recover. What is optimal is not so simple. The human condition implies that scarring mistakes take years and years of adjustment. This accident taught me that the mind is not so resilient as the body. Do you agree?"
Her eye studied the ground as though the answer lay in the tile's simple pattern. "I'm not sure. The mind always has hope to recover. For injuries to the body, it is not so."
She wanted to stand up. Instead she remained bound to the earth, her eye glued to the dead man's. The prisoner's voice boomed around her. "You would say your mind is stronger than your body?"
After years and years of loneliness and guilt, after dragging herself out of a hopeless pit of black ink, Rahlin said, "I do."
"Your belief is admirable. I could learn from you," said the prisoner. "If only there was more time. An amusing coincidence: I felt the same about the scene spread before you."
"You mean you could have done something about it?"
"I tried everything to change this resolution. Some fates are set in stone."
"I refuse to believe that!" Rahlin shouted. "It could be different. It always could! The same goes for what you think will kill you!"
Silence stretched on. Rahlin found herself studying the faces of the deceased and pondering their lives – what they left behind. The prisoner's voice was softer when they said, "Honor this old fool if you may. I would like to offer a kernel of wisdom my age taught me."
"Such as?"
"Believing yourself invincible only takes you so far," the prisoner said. "There is power in admitting the impossible exists. Sometimes the solution is to give up."
"I c…" Rahlin shook her head. "No, I can't imagine giving up."
"Scientists are meant to have open minds, are they not?" the prisoner said. "I also have learned nature works in a certain brand of balance. A loss in one aspect strengthens another. You may think me a forlorn and lost soul, and you may be correct. The reason for my resignation, however, is because the natural law states only one individual survives the fork in the timeline."
Realization sobered Rahlin like a splash of ice-cold water.
"The limits of this place are only what our imaginations come up with, right?" Rahlin said, her words tumbling over each other. "We can create something, some world where the both of us can-"
The area changed. The reactor's illumination shifted to sparse light from starfoam in the Spirit World's nighttime seasky. Rahlin rested atop the bell tower, which looked down upon patches of farmland and fields of flowers. The bells swung back and forth but produced no sound. Between their sways, she spotted an individual sitting on the opposite side of the tower.
Holes formed in them and slowly ate away at their silhouette.
The prisoner's voice crossed the bells. "Are you aware of the Law of Infinite Probability?"
Rahlin struggled to think. "That- anything is possible?"
"I enjoy your interpretation. In a more formal description, the Law of Infinite Probability states that the percent chance of an event occurring – no matter how small – gradually increases as time stretches on. I see this in the same way as you; I see Infinite Probability as a statement of hope sown into natural law. The chance of your future was slim. You live on all the same. This realm is not where you belong. Enjoy the life you deserve, Rahlin Orichalcum, and transform those aspirations of yours into reality. The world is yours to defy."
Panic befell Rahlin as she searched for any comforting words for this final person, who always seemed to know what to say to leave a lasting impact. The pendulum of the bells revealed the prisoner's movement. Their arm lifted and portions of their cloak disappeared.
In their hand was the distinct shape of a violin's bow.
"That was you playing earlier," she surmised. The tune from the time that felt like centuries ago, when Rahlin entered the white throne room and was dragged into the black realm, must have been played by the prisoner. "I- I hope that, one day, I can play as beautifully as you!"
The prisoner threw their head back.
Their face mask had disappeared completely. A bright eye beneath their hood landed on Rahlin. Their mouth curved into the gentlest smile. The expression was simple yet conveyed thousands of brilliant and fulfilling futures.
The three words they spoke left a forever mark upon Rahlin.
Their voice. Their voice…
The prisoner faded into sparkles on an unassuming breeze. Sound restored to the bells. Their bongs rang out as a forceful, supersonic impact that catapulted Rahlin's body off the tower. Rather than watching the sky, she faced the earth during her descent. She fell towards a patch of blue tulips.
Holding onto the prisoner's hopeful smile, Rahlin braced for impact with determination.
The melody of the bells followed her home.