Nightmare Troubadour

by 7th Librarian

Sequel to 'Heirs of Fate'. Three months after the Bride Tournament and his marriage, Bellerophon Pegasus is dying. The curse of the Egyptian Gods steals away the shine of his future breath by painful breath. Worse, the sins of his father overshadow him, threatening to steal all he loves. And even as he battles against ancient darkness, it just seems to herald a greater terror...

4. Ride Into The Sunset

Nightmare Troubador
By 7th Librarian

A/N: Why is this so late? 'Cause...life. And stuff. And stuff with life.

But I'm still kickin'. Still goin'. Still truckin'.

Promise.

Chapter 4: Ride Into The Sunset

He ran his fingers over the new page on Wicked Canticle, sighing in sympathy at the sight of Edward Read's face buried in his hands as the Sinister Doctrine - Anguish rune finished searing itself atop the image. "Poor man. You had your life stolen from you and now your revenge, too. Your whole existence is nothing more than a footnote in someone else's story, a stub on a wikia page. I think that is true anguish, being forgotten in such a way. That taste of irrelevance…"

His expression darkened and he snapped the book shut as he rose to his feet. That unique, bitter, coppery taste still lingered on his tongue when he thought of it. Of the years locked away, being told he was crazy, he was wrong and that imposter stealing his life and just making an utter mess of it was right.

He paused as he caught his reflection in the window. His bad mood was showing itself in a rather ugly way, one that his father had often called his 'Saturday morning villain face' and he hastened to relax himself, stroking his cheek as if he could wipe away the wrinkles the scowl had made on him.

It wouldn't do to let all that spill out now. A real gentleman was a master of his emotions, not mastered by them. Yes, bad things had happened to him but they hadn't happened out of maliciousness. The dear doctors at the LuMed LifeWard were trying to help him and just didn't understand. And to be frank, he had been a right little piece of work when he'd first been adopted by his father. Just terrible. All those tantrums and screams and petty jealousy - really, had it been any wonder that his father thought he needed a time out and some help?

Coppery irrelevance was replaced by spicy, simmer anger on his tongue and his reflection gained an angry cast. It had all been going so well until that imposter, that faker, that twisted, stupid, liar Akl had done something to his father and taken his place - and now look at things - it was just so, so infuriating -

He breathed out, fogging up the glass and hiding his reflection from him, the visual representation making the emotional happen. This was not the time for this, not at all. He was a guest here and was going to repay his adopted father's kindness and help the family business. And spend some time with a very lovely woman who was clearly in need of some honest company if that witchy manger was any indication.

The door behind him opened as the last of the fog was evaporating and he turned to smile at the two white-haired women entering the room. "I am so pleased to meet you, Rosemary Bakura. And your lovely mother. I am Chrysaor Shen, representative of the Shen family and the Shen Shun Long-style of dueling. I hope our future together will be a good one."

TTTTTTT

"The pavement is hot, harsh and unforgiving, but I like it that way. Keeps a lone wolf moving down this highway to hell. At the end...well, I hope it's redemption, but it's probably another shot. I've already got eight slugs in me. One's a bullet, the others are bourbon. The drinks pack a wallop and I pack a revolver. I'm Tracer Bullet. I'm a professional snoop. And I ride for a paycheck and justice. The latter doesn't always pay for the former. I-"

"Marik, who wrote this terrible dialogue?"

"It's not terrible, Ishizu!" Marik dropped the smoky voice he'd be using to whine at his sister on the phone's other end. Built into his bike helmet, it was perfect for harassing his sister long distance and remaining safe at the same time. "It's film noir! The genre is classic artistry! All black'n'white, gravelly hard-boiled detectives and hookers with hearts of gold"

"It sounds very cliche and boring. What on earth prompted you to audition for the part?"

"Hey, it's not anything I've done before and I need some more variety on my resume. I can't keep voicing skullduggery-style rogues, classy cat burglars and sauve world domination British men." Marik replied as he wove his bike through the traffic and pulled away onto an off-ramp.

"I would have thought since you were a 'career criminal', you'd have perfected the parts, little brother." Ishizu drawled.

"You are never going to let that go, are you? All I did was steal Duel Monsters cards and kind of maybe sort of endangered a bunch of teenager's lives in my need for petty revenge against a dead man." Marik paused. "Hey, that's not a bad pitch for a movie. My agent would like it. I can't believe I didn't think of it before!"

"Marik, please do not use our family trauma as a script idea."

"It'd just be inspired by it, Ishizu, not a direct copy. Change some names, places, mix in some more Duel Monsters. Hell, we could even throw in Kaiba expy and you could play the intelligent, bookish wise woman who stops him from being a total bastard and turns him into a hero!"

"Marik." Ishizu said in that tone a little brother would know all too well. "No thank you."

Marik grimaced. "C'mon, Ishizu, you can't spend your life living in the Kaiba Mansion and reading dusty books forever. Getting out and interacting with people would be good for you."

"Marik, I have an artificial hand and left leg and have surgery scars everywhere. I would not be 'interacting' with people. I would be a spectacle."

"Fine, then. You've spent the last few months holed up in the library with your laptop, so I hope you've dug something up from the dusty old books that's useful for Sumire and her husband. Or you know, finally being a normal person and looking at porn."

"I have distressingly found nothing." Ishizu said in a tired voice. "Nothing speaks of how to remove a curse like this from Bellerophon or anything about this 'Crimson Dragon.' "

"Well, you sent Odion off to India to reach out to that kooky old guy you know. Maybe he'll return with some dustier, older books that'll have something."

"Professor Dimestu is not kooky, Marik. He is an archaeologist worthy of your respect. Not to mention a man who makes a career out of doing silly voices and purchasing more disturbingly coloured motorcycles is not in a place to judge." Ishizu warned him.

Marik glanced down at his current chartreuse and orange ride. "Hey, at least I always know where I park. What about Pegasus's archived material? Didn't that arrive yesterday?"

"Two days ago. And no, though I'm not surprised - Plato knows every text in there like the back of his hand."

"The way man talks about it sometimes, you think he'd lived it all…" Marik said and then caught a sign up ahead. "I'm about to meet up with my contact, so I'll talk to you later."

"Be careful."

"Aren't I always?" Marik cut the call before his sister could remind him of the many, many times that he wasn't careful and swung the bike off the road and down the little forest trail. Deep into it, he found a small clearing devoid of grass and sheltered by trees. An old military bunker built during WWII, the Japanese government had removed it years ago. But the location was still isolated and muffled from civilization. A perfect spot for a clandestine meeting.

And it looked like someone didn't like that idea. There was something sprawled on the clearing's far end and Marik felt his stomach drop with the feeling that he knew what it was. He parked the bike and following a lifetime of ingrained habit, pulled out a pair of binoculars. He'd rigged and walked into too many traps.

He raised the binoculars and sighed inwardly. The sprawling thing was definitely a body and he saw a funky-looking beard styled so it curled upwards at the end. "Oh, Monroe, what did you get into?"

Apparently a cult, given how he was wearing a thick heavy robe despite the noonday sun. A robe that looked oddly out of place for a man Marik knew as smooth and casual. He swept the binoculars back towards the face and stepped away from the bike to get a better look. This time, his heart did drop. There was the Eye of Horus in pale purple on the forward tip of the hood.

Rare Hunter robes.

"What the hell?" Marik frowned to himself. Monroe wasn't a duelist or even into the Rare Hunters at all. He was an information guy, plain and simple. Since when did-

The crack of the bullet sent him driving into the underbrush and he was scanning the treeline for the shooter when he realized that bullet hadn't been aimed at him.

It had been aimed at his bike. He could see a gout of gasoline spilling from the new hole in the tank and then before he could even curse his unknown assailant for harming his baby, something flew in out of the corner of his eye.

A lit cigarette lighter.

Marik rolled further into the underbrush, feet back towards the bike and arms over his head to present the narrowest profile he could. The explosion boomed and a wash of burnt air and heat crashed over him, sending a small rain of leaves down around him.

He could hear bits and pieces of his baby hitting the ground and he rolled back over, cursing as he saw only a plume of smoke and flickering flames where his bike had been.

"You can come out, Marik." A figure emerging from the far side of the clearing. An Egyptian man, the dark shadows of his Rare Hunter robes making his smile all the more garish. "Come out and duel me like a man."

Marik considered his options, before deciding that if the guy was revealing himself, then he really wanted that duel as opposed to just dead Marik. Carefully making sure his knife sheath on the back of his belt had a clear draw, he stood up and stepped out of the forest. "You just blew up a forty-thousand dollar bike, jackass. And killed someone I liked. If you wanted to get on my shitlist, you just moved yourself right to the top."

"You're the only name on my list, Marik." The man retorted and he held up his arm, a Duel Disk activating. Once it had, he tossed another one towards Marik. "Now pick it up so I can have my revenge."

"Revenge for what?" Hands on hips, Marik made no move to activate his Duel Disk.

"You cost me my life! I served you loyally, 'Master Marik' and you just discarded me like trash!" The man snarled, jabbing a finger at him. "Now pick up the Duel Disk! Or I'll shoot you where you stand!"

"Rare Hunter out for blood? Fine." Marik carefully reached down and grabbed the disk without taking his eyes off the man. "I can understand that. I don't suppose an apology will help?"

"The only apology you'll give me will be your screams!" The man snapped impatiently, his smile twisting darkly and Marik swore he could see something glimmer in the dark eyes residing in the depths of the hood.

Something's off about this guy. Really off. Most of the Rare Hunters I ran with thirty years ago are dead or in jail. And they were all older than me by at least ten years. So he should be in his late fifties, but this guy...he looks even older. Marik slid the Duel Disk on and activated it before sliding his deck home. "Just who are you? I think I'd remember an old bastard like you working with the Rare Hunters."

"My name is Hassan! I was one of your best duelists! No one got more rare cards than me and I didn't have to cheat like that guy Seeker, either" Hassan growled. "But if you don't remember me, how about I engrave my name in your head with my skills?"

"See, you say that, but I actually remembered the names of my Rare Hunters who were, ya know, good at the game." Marik drawled at him and smirked as the man's growl rose in intensity. "Seeing as I don't remember you, that says you weren't good at all."

"I was good enough to test one of your precious Ra copies! And I was good enough to acquire this power!" Hassan held up a card and flames rippled out from it, starting to encircle them -

-and a knife ripped through the card, slashing it half. Hassan stared, dumbfounded at now half-a-card he held in his fingers and this left him completely open for when Mark's forearm slammed into his neck. A twist of the wrist forced Hassan to drop the card as Marik twisted his arm behind his back and got the other man onto his stomach.

"Alright, Hassan, here's where you start talking and I start listening. You stop talking, I start breaking things. Like fingers." Marik said coolly, tugging on the man's bent arm and making him groan in pain for emphasis. "How the hell did you get here, who sent you and who are you with. Three easy questions because I'm a nice guy."

When Hassan just gurgled into the grass, Marik gave the arm another pointed tug. "I'm not hearing any talking, Hassan."

"Go to hell, Marik!" Hassan bit out. "I'm not going to tell you anything! I just want my revenge!"

"And you aren't going to get it." Marik warned. "Now, if you talk, maybe I'll consider playing you at Go Fish or something. I-"

Hassan was gurgling all of a sudden, his face drawn and gaunt as his eyes rolled. "No - no - no - don't send me back to the dark! Please! No I don't want-"

Marik leapt off the other man as darkness began to ooze out of his ears, eyes and nose. As he watched ,the darkness twisted into flames. They didn't burn Hassan, but Marik knew the flames weren't physical anyway. They were magic and as Hassan's protests rose into a strident, defiant scream that was abruptly cut off, he was sure of what they were.

A kick rolled Hassan over to his back, his face twisted in terror. There was a pulse, but no light in the eyes. Just a vacant, empty gaze.

His soul had been stripped from him.

Marik stared down at him and sighed. "This bullshit again. Can't magic leave my family alone in peace for once?" He knelt and patted down Hassan's body, but didn't expect to find anything.

There was half a card in his hand, though. Marik pulled it free, saw it was the bottom half of a spell card and walked over to his knife.

The card was Wicked Canticle. Meaning the same as what had happened to his niece just a few hours ago.

"Dammit." Marik pulled out his phone and held the card pieces up in his grasp, close enough to make it whole and snapped a picture. He didn't get time for a second as the card began to dissolve, becoming bits of ash in his hand and in the wind. "Of course it does that…"

Still, maybe the picture and Hassan's body would be enough. Marik grimaced at the thought of how all of this was stacking up so quickly. Whoever was behind this didn't want Hassan to talk and had put a killswitch on the man. And on their MacGuffin magic card. So this new enemy wanted to keep them all in the dark.

He felt his grip tighten on his knife as he thought about how Sumire had been the first target for all this.

Playing in the dark was fine. Tomb Keepers were no stranger to killing the things that went bump in the night.

TTTTTTT

"-buy Kuba Cola today! It's the drink that keeps the Blue Beetle- snnkt - today, the stock market rose by 12.4 points, with Industrial Illusions - snnkt - "I can't believe you we're still letting this Kaiba Jr. in any position of authority! I mean, the man bought out a city for a tournament and then a year later, tried to turn it into Big Brother! And have we seen her birth certificate or DNA test results from a thirty party?I - snnkkkt - remember, all of our programming is made possible from donations from viewers like you-"

"Bellerophon, please either stop fiddling with the radio stations and select one you like. Or turn it off."

"Hey, there's no in-flight movie on this Blue-Eyes Jet and I can only take staring at the ocean for so long." Lero said from the co-pilot's seat behind her, pointedly tapping his way through a few more channels.

Sumire resisted the urge to sigh. "You are doing this to annoy me, are you not?"

"Oh good - it only took you three months into marriage to figure out that's how I operate." Lero's obnoxious smile grew in the canopy's reflection and continued to channel surf.

"I brought you on the jet, Bellerophon, so you could get some time away from home. So you can relax."

"You won't let me fly it!"

"You do not have a pilot's license. And I have seen you with the wheelchair." Sumire said firmly. "I still do not know how you got tire tracks on the ceiling…"

"Spoilsport…" Lero grunted in annoyance and went back to the radio.

"-in other news, the Luxiel Church has once again petitioned the International Astronomical Union to restore Pluto to planetary status. This is not the first such attempt the institution has made and may actually have a shot of succeeding this time. The church's numbers have swelled in recent years and despite only being twenty years old, have reached nearly well over a hundred million members worldwide. And a lot of powerful people have taken it up, including Hollywood superstars -"

"Last thing I want is to hear about those guys again…" Lero muttered and she heard a definitive click as the radio was shut off.

"What would you like to hear about?" Sumire asked after a moment. "We have not had much time to be a 'married couple' since the tournament...or any time at all to be together. Do you want to play a game again?"

"No." Lero said, his mood clearly souring. "Can we just keep flying for a bit? I want to enjoy the view."

"Of course. We can fly for hours more, the fuel tank is full." Sumire said. "Anywhere in particular?"

"No. Just fly."

"Alright then."

Silence filled the cockpit to the point it seemed to even muffle the roar of the engines outside. After about ten or fifteen minutes, Sumire spared a glance over her shoulder, unsurprised to see Bellerophon slumped against the side of his seat fast asleep. He'd been sleeping a lot these days.

She liked his sleeping face. It was minus all the stress lines and careworn marks that so defined him in his waking hours. Her Uncle Odion had once told her that a sleeping face was the true face of a person. And Bellerophon's was, in a word, cute. In it, she could see the eager, energetic boy who was Pegasus' son and the firm strength of the man he'd been shaped into.

But even as he slept, the image was crumbling. A downward curve of delicate lips, eyes fluttering under his lids, the twitches and shifts of an intense dream, perhaps even a nightmare.

And he'd find no relief in the waking world, not when they touched down and she had to help him into the chair again.

Sumire scowled at her controls and banked the Blue-Eyes jet higher, hoping that passing through another layer of clouds would leave all those heavy thoughts behind. It didn't work and she sped up, but they clung determinedly on. In frustration, she checked the time. Just past one in the afternoon here in Japan. And while the Americas were thirteen hours ahead of her, the person she wanted to call was a night owl.

Muting Lero's headset so the call didn't disturb him, Sumire brought up videocall and selected the name she wanted. After a few rings, it was answered the screen went from black to black with a pair of deep-set gleaming brown eyes and a mouth vaguely illuminated by a cell phone's light. "Hey, Sphinx. What's up?"

"Nothing good, Jackie." Sumire said bluntly. "I am running out of ways to fix this mess."

Jackie frowned. Her mask may have absorbed all the light and left her looking more than a bit sinister, but the concern was touching. "Lero's gotten worse, huh? He lost more of his body control?"

"Not yet, but it will happen. And nothing we seem to do takes his mind off of it for more than a few hours at the moment. The Kaibaland launch, the swimsuit bathtime-"

"Okay, it's 'sexy bathtime' 'cause when you say it like that, you sound like you were all wading in a kiddie pool with floaters."

"-card design, none of it distracts him or engages him fully." Sumire continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "He just keeps finding more things he cannot do and this process is not sustainable. We need to find something to keep him going."

"His life is falling apart around him and all he can do is watch. That's a big hurdle to overcome."

"There must be something - I will not let him spend his life in misery and despair."

"We ain't got a choice in that matter, Sphinx."

Sumire gave her a sharp look. "You are starting to sound as if you have given up helping him."

"Helping him isn't the same as fixing him, which sounds like what you want to do for him." Jackie said, unbothered by the look. "And yeah, you're his paper-wife and you want to support him and stuff. I'm right there with you - I have a lot of deep, soggy emotions about him that my booze likes make me cough up every now and again. Depression and trauma don't have cures, though. There is no instant-fix. Lero has to live with this and only he gets to figure out he lives it with it. The best we can do is support him."

Sumire felt anger stir in her, making her grit her teeth as if she was sharpening them against each other for the verbal lashing she was about to shred the other woman with for - but let it pass. Her own experiences with dramatic life change had been difficult for her - learning to speak properly at the age of eight, of having to learn English and Japanese at the same time, even just learning how to live under a blue sky after almost a decade of cold darkness and stone tunnels.

And nothing her mother or her uncles could do or say made all of the tension and frustration and fear any more bearable. She had just had to endure it, take it one step at a time and hope things would get better.

The fact they wouldn't for Lero must have shown on her face, because Jackie touched the ceramic decorating her face. "Lero ever tell you why I have to wear this thing?"

"No. I asked after the tournament, but he said it was your story to tell."

"Good man. I ran away from home when I was ten from a pair of uncaring, idiot parents. Stole a bicycle, got the hell away and eventually hooked up with some other wild kids. Learned to ride a real bike from a big, tough asshole named Screwhook. Learned a lot, like how to handle myself in a fight, how not to let someone scam you and stuff like that."

She smiled briefly, cruel in her phone's weak light and her mask's void. But it faded just as fast as it had come. "Hit puberty while riding a bike and that meant a lot of hormones and chemicals and down right bitchiness. Thought I was the hottest shit on two wheels and wearing leather. So one night, I get mouthy with Screwhook. Real mouthy, claiming I knew better and he wasn't a real man and I should be getting a bigger share of the pie. Stupid teenager shit that I thought sounded smart. Which it wasn't, 'cause Screwhook lived up to his name that night. Always had a big ole' meat hook with him and more than a few screws loose."

Sumire felt her teeth clench again, this time at the imagined sounds of metal on flesh and cries of pain. Noises she was all too familiar with in the dark underneath the sands. "He attacked you with his hook."

Jackie's smile was bitter. "It'd have been better if he had. Least then it'd have taken stitches or whatever to fix. Naw, he just tied up my hands and dangled me from that hook like a piece of meat. Being twelve and invincible, I just laughed and kept talking shit. So he grabs the nearest thing, which happened to be a bike battery that was open for some reason or another and hucks it at me. I got a nice faceful of acid. Damn lucky I didn't get any in my eyes, but the rest of my face more than made up for it. Somebody told me later they heard me screaming, came in and thought Screwhook had flayed me, that I looked like some kind of high school textbook picture for muscle anatomy."

Sumire felt her stomach knot in anger as her fingers tightened sharply on the jet's controls. She had seen what acid did to a person's face, of how it ate away flawless skin like a fruit peel and shrunk muscle like dried fruit. Life above the sands was often as cruel as the dark below.

"I don't remember much after that except a lot of screaming and pain. And then a lot of dark. I think I spent six months in a hospital being treated, face all wrapped up like a mummy. No parents, no gang, nothing but twelve-year-old me, doctors and nurses using words I couldn't understand and the realization my life was fucked up." Jackie said blithely. "CPS shows up and starts trying to help, find me a home and family and shit - but who the hell wants a kid whose face isn't there? I bolted as soon as they told me I was as healed as I was going to get and they couldn't afford to pay for surgery to fix me - and fixing me was a longshot."

"That is a terrible thing, Jackie. I am sorry." Sumire said softly. "I cannot believe that happened to you."

"Not asking you too to be sorry. Or to fix it. It's outside what you can do, girl. Same with Lero. 'Cause I know wanting to 'fix' things sounds like it's coming from a good place, but it's really not. You want him to be happy, yeah, but there's that little part of you that doesn't want to admit that you want him to be happy again so you can stop being miserable." Jackie said with a shrug. "Nothing wrong with that, either. It's natural."

Sumire wasn't sure what to say, so she said nothing. Neither did Jackie, though she didn't hang up the call and it was kind of both creepy and comforting to see her eyes peering out of the total darkness of her mask at her. Maybe she was waiting for Sumire to process it all. Maybe she was relieving how she'd done it herself.

The minutes felt longer and eventually Sumire broke the silence as she realized something was making noise in the background. "Are you on a boat, Jackie? I hear water."

"What, no? I'm on a seaside boardwalk-"

"I also hear seagulls." Sumire watched Jackie suddenly shoved her phone away and she heard a distinct retching noise. "And you are vomiting."

"Boardwalk food is really bad for me - all that grease -"

"Jackie, why are you on a boat?"

"I got high while listening to The Lonely Island and when I came down, I was on this boat-"

"Jackie." Sumire cut her off with a firm tone. "Why are you on a boat and does it have something to do with Bellerophon's curse?"

"It..might? It might not, either." Jackie sighed. "Sphinx, this might be a dead-end lead, which is why I didn't tell anyone. I can feel why Lero's feeling sometimes and I don't want to feel him get his hopes up, only for them to shatter. He's got it bad enough as it is."

"I understand. Do you require any assistance or money?"

"No, this is something better left under the table. Just take care of Sky-Horse and I'll get back to you both with hopefully some good news. And ask Hot Stuff to give him a kiss from me. Hell, I know exactly how bad his mood's been - you both give him a kiss from me - preferably naked-"

"Have you been drinking? It sounds like your deep, soggy feelings are coming to the surface."

"I have been on this boat for almost ten days - there's nothing to do but drink!"

TTTTTTT

"You seem to have a busy itinerary for your trip. The Great Wall, formal meetings with the other Dueling Schools, tours at museums and even a bath in some hot springs."

Rosemary was British - she could make small talk in her sleep. They'd already covered the standard opening topics - how was your journey, the weather, had she ever visited China before...She had moved through them all with polite, unoffensive answers, her mind struggling to process more important issues like her duel with Edward.

But as the conversation moved into their upcoming activities, Rosemary's brain forgot all about Edward, and started to chew over something new.

Her companion.

Chrysaor Shen was a well put-together oddity. Dark green dress shirt with ruffles, pink eyes and pale blue hair held in place some strategic gold wire hairpiece. Even a string bow-tie. As if someone had taken a bunch of fanfiction writer's overly purple prose and given it to a person who could actually pull it off.

She had never met him in her life. And yet, there was something about him that was nagging at the back of her head like the last forgotten item on a to-do list, or an appointment that she couldn't remember. The way he sat, the way he spoke, even the way he dressed, was familiar in a way she couldn't put her finger on, and it was driving her crazy.

She nodded absently as he finished exclaiming over her itinerary. "Amane keeps me busy." Damn it, why do I know him from somewhere?! "I am sorry to be taking up so much of your time with my business. I'm sure you'll find it tedious."

"Not at all." The politeness of the first meeting was wearing off, and a friendly smile slipped onto his face that was almost boyish. "To be honest, Ms Bakura, I have been dying to meet you for a while, and when I heard that my family had agreed to assist you, I was practically giddy. You are doing me no disservice."

A little taken aback, Rosemary felt a slight dip in her stomach. "You are a fan?" Oh please don't let him be one of those fans...Amane had flaws, but at least she could usually be trusted to keep the really weird ones away.

"Of a sort. I saw your performance in the Bride Tournament. Though, that is scarcely the reason I was eager to meet you." Chrysaor said with a casual wave of his hand. "Rather, I am delighted to have met another Darkborn in Japan."

Rosemary's blood ran cold, only years of hiding her emotions and remaining still in front of dozen ogling faces keeping it off her expression. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what you mean. And it's rude to accuse someone of being a Darkborn."

"I know, I know and I apologize for stating it so bluntly, but I often find that when confronting other Darkborn who have to hide themselves from the world, a surprise often gets the truth." Chrysaor said amicably, still smiling. "You must have known I was one from the moment you saw me. I am grateful for you not blurting it out in front of your manager - she seems like a woman would take it very, very badly."

Rosemary kept the grimace off her face, but felt it stab inwards just the same. She hadn't noticed and that was because she was still tired from her duel with Edward. Now that Chrysaor mentioned, she could tell he wasn't lying about being one. There was a feeling of oily slipperiness, darkness that glistened with off-color rainbow in the air now. Like she'd stepped into a shaded area after a day in the sun.

In her soul, Diabound Allure grew taunt in its coils, tensing for action as Rosemary's anxiety spiked.

"Please - don't be upset? As you can see, I am not a rampaging, murderous monster and neither are you. We're two people who are having a conversation. And yes, we have abilities other people do not. Some call them powers, some call them curses. But at the end of the day, Ms. Bakura, we are still people. Human beings who deserve the same rights and respect all others get - more than that," Chrysaor said with a gentle firmness. "We deserve to be understood, not hated."

Rosemary crossed her arms, keeping her placid. Hearing him talk like that was...new. And it made her uncertain and wary. "And what gives you that opinion? Haven't you seen the news? The most recent attack in Madrid?"

"I have and my heart goes out to those people. But hasn't history shown that the actions of one small percent of a group do not define the whole? The media, forgive my saying so, is rather sensationalist and hate is an easy pot to stir." Chrysaor said. "I, on the other hand, recognize that being a Darkborn is something none of us chose to be. That our abilities can be beneficial to us and others."

"They make Duel Monsters real - that Darkborn in Madrid blew apart a city block with whatever he was doing! He killed hundreds of people!" Rosie said curtly. "That kind of power is only destructive and dangerous."

Chyrsaor's face fell, but only for a moment. "If you truly thought like that, Rosemary, that Darkborn were nothing but destructive, evil monsters, then why haven't you turned yourself into Dark Virtue or any government? Why keep it a secret, thinking your just a ticking time bomb that could go off at any moment?" Seeing her go silent and turn her head, he pressed on. "I think that on some level, you recognize your abilities as something you can benefit from. Maybe you've even done so already."

Rosie didn't respond, her mind flashing back to three months ago. The Duel Arena exploding, a volcano of metal spewing fire and circuits and wires everywhere, Lero passing out...and how she'd jumped onto that nightmare without hesitation, drawing Diabound Allure from her soul to save him and herself. She'd told that pastiche of her Uncle that she'd gotten Diabound on her own and hadn't been born with it...but she would have never gotten Diabound if it weren't for the abilities a Darkborn possessed.

A new memory, older, darker. Cold stone catacombs beneath blazing sand. A tablet engraved with a monster, a scared, crying Rosie demanding that monster's power. And a duel. A duel alive with magic against a dead woman. And comments and praise at how at home Rosemary seemed in the darkness, at how it didn't hurt as much as it should, at how much Rosemary's own attacks hurt even a spirit…

Chrysaor sighing and settling back in his chair brought her out of her thoughts. He crossed his legs, clasping his hands at the knee. "I am sure this is a lot to take in. But please believe me that there are others like you and me who want nothing more than to live normal lives and be happy. You are not a monster and you are not alone."

Silence passed as the limo drove on. Ten minutes, then fifteen, then twenty, then an hour and then Rosemary stopped counting. She knew they'd left Tokyo and Chrysaor had gotten a message on his phone, one that prompted him to signal the driver and explain something in Chinese.

She didn't pay much attention to it. All she cared about was that Lero was in this city, so close and yet so far away. Amane had her phone and laptop and she didn't know Lero's number by heart. Nor could she just ask Chrysaor to take a detour so she could go and throw herself at her secret boyfriend before she was dragged off to China for a month or more.

She wanted to warn him about Edward and the Wicked Canticle. She wanted to tell him she was sorry she had to go. She wanted to ask him if he thought she was a monster, if somewhere inside, he was scared of her. She wanted so many things she didn't know how to sort them all and in the end, they all just vanished like dewdrops in the morning. Pretty, but irrelevant.

Because none of them were anything Amane had told her she wanted.

Choices, as the woman who called herself Rosemary's mother said, were for the weak. The successful blazed one single line to their goals.

"Excuse me, Ms. Bakura," Chrysaor's voice caused her to look away from the window. "I know you have a hard time believing in what I'm saying, so I feel like a practical demonstration will be more apt at showing you what I mean about Darkborn not being monsters and our abilities beneficial." He gestured to the far window. "And this is the perfect location at which to do so."

Rosemary stared out the window, frowning. "This is a graveyard."

"Yes. It's one I've been meaning to visit. I could feel its darkness the moment I passed it by the first day I was in Japan. There is a malignancy here and I am going to exorcise it." Chrysaor said and pulled a Duel Disk from a seat compartment, sliding out of his seat when the door opened. "Please come with me."

Rosemary did so with a touch of reluctance. The limo had pulled into the graveyard's depths and the place had a creepy feeling even during the middle of the day. But beyond the usual chill seeing so many graves gave her, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "What do you mean, malignancy? There's nothing here but us."

"Darkborn have a way with the spiritual side of the world, Ms. Bakura. We are more in tune with these things hidden behind the veil." Chrysaor explained as he strode towards a four-way crosswalk a little ways away from them. "You can feel it, too, if you let yourself."

She stepped after him. "What do you mean, 'let myself'? I've been to places all over the world and I've never felt anything different about them."

"Of course you have. Chills down your spine, goosebumps, the pricking of your thumbs, the sensation of being watched while alone and all other myriad little tells that do their best to remind us that the world is more than what our five senses can comprehend. And we close ourselves to them, because admitting that there is something outside our rationality is akin to giving up control, it is admitting we might be wrong." Chrysaor gave her a sidelong look. "That same thought process is what let's people label Darkborn as 'monsters' while ignoring the fact they're actually 'people'."

Rosemary felt herself frown, more at herself than at him. His logic was perfectly sound and that made her earlier complaints feel small. "Alright, then. Show me what I've been doing wrong."

"You've been doing nothing wrong, Ms. Bakura. You just have been taking the steps anyone would to try and keep themselves safe when confronted with something unknown. Do not let doubt and self-chastisement hinder you." Chrysaor said not unkindly. "All you need to do is the opposite of what you've been doing."

Seeing her hesitate, he held out his hand. "Please, take my hand. And I will help you."

Carefully, uncertain but curious despite herself, Rosemary took his hand. There was no immediate change or burst of smoke or flash of energy around them and for a moment, she wondered if this was some kind of overly-elaborate set-up to just allow him to hold her hand. That kind of deep teasing reminded her of Lero.

But that was swiftly banished from her mind as she felt it. Small, at first. A pressure that was at once both startling and welcome. It was almost affectionate, pleasant even.

"Like a cat rubbing against your ankle for attention?" Chrysaor asked softly and when she looked up at him, there was that playful smile on his face. "My first time was like that, too."

Rosemary felt her face warm and was glad he looked a bit bashful as well. The pressured feeling grew, spilling over her and she felt a shiver run over her body, causing goosebumps on her arm - it was like stepping into an air conditioned room after being out in the hot sun all day.

Something pulled her attention to the side. The graveyard had not changed, the headstones gray and daunting, the grass vibrant and green and the breeze still pleasant. And, there was something else now. Something that come creeping in -

No, it had always been there and she had just ignored it. The realization clicked into place as she saw, suddenly, the wind in the grass was thick and fog-like for a second and a brief swirl of it crumpled up a dead leaf like a fist clenching. The shadows were deeper than they should have been, gaining depth as they fed on the light and heat of the blazing sun. Snatches of emotions carried on nameless voices scratching out incoherent whispers from creaking tree branches, scraping stones across the pavement and rustle of graveside flowers in their pots.

Every trick of suspense in every horror movie...Rosemary had had a bit part in a horror movie when she was younger, it's name long forgotten now. But something the director had said when getting his child actors to be scared stuck with her. That the best horror films played off the instinctive fears of the mind - the dark, the cold, something lurking behind a door, tight spaces. Things that limited the senses and made your mind scramble to fill in the gaps.

Except here, now, there were no gaps. She knew, without words, without clear conscious thought, what this was around them. In the way someone could find their way around their room in the dark or how you could absently tap out a song from decades ago without thinking about it, she knew. This was as familiar to her as anything had ever been.

And it was angry. She felt cold and oppressed, as if the world had just shrunk dramatically around them. "Chrysaor-"

"I told you it was a malignancy," He reminded her and pulled his hand away from hers, turning to look deeper into the graveyard. "And it doesn't like us, that we're alive and it isn't. If we leave it to fester here, then it only gets worse."

Seeing her look, he flashed that reassuring smile. "You do not have to come with me, Ms. Bakura. I only wanted to expose you to this as a taster, to let you know of the wider world that you were meant to inhabit. If you have had enough, you can wait in the limo. I won't be long."

"No. No, I'm coming with you." The words were out of her mouth before she had to think. Seeing it was his turn to look surprised, she continued. "This isn't my first experience with magic, Mr. Shen. It's not even the fifth or seventh or tenth. But it is my first experience with someone else who's experienced as...as a Darkborn."

"Then thank you for coming. That means a lot to me." Chrysaor said, clearly relaxing at the idea of not going in alone. He pointed down the path and for a moment, it seemed to stretch out like someone pulling taffy; drawing thin and reedy, the trees becoming looming, grasping thorny things that twisted and wove themselves into a dark, endless tunnel.

But only for a moment.

TTTTTT

Verthy had elected to meet with Dark Virtue just a few hours after Aster had informed her of the request. For one thing, such a meeting was bound to be heavy conversation and seriousness and in her mind, getting such a thing out of the way would mean it would not be hanging over her thoughts and overshadowing her creativity.

For another thing, she was more than a bit curious to meet someone from the organization. She knew of them, of course. Most everyone did from the news and such, that the group was headed by Seven Virtues, backed by the U.N. and dealt in all things magical. But while she took Aster's warning to heart, the temptation to know more about the deep and dark places of the world was just too strong.

And perhaps, maybe, in one of those deep and dark places, they would have found something to help Bellerophon.

Verthy's gaze fell upon a photo sat at the corner of her desk, taken just two and a half-years previously. It was of her and Lero back when they were dating. In fact, this particular instance had been only a scant few hours before he'd gotten the call saying his father had been caught in a tomb collapse and been sent into a coma. She remembered his face as his whole world had fallen apart, far more vividly than any glimpse of the future she'd ever had. Hours, days, weeks of holding him, being there for him, offering any support she could until they had finally called it off under the weight of so much hurt. Looking at the photo now, and knowing what was coming - what had already happened at the second that picture had been snapped - it felt fake in an unsettling way. Because although they didn't know it, with their smiles and happiness beaming out of the image, nothing was alright any more.

She missed him, in many ways. He wasn't her first real love, but he'd been her first adult love. The one where professional and personal lives had intersected in new, interesting and frustrating methods. Returning to him for the Bride Tournament, in spite of everything that had happened with Yoshito and Nitemare, had given her so much joy. It had been the first time she had really spent time with him since the break up, and it was a relief to know that even with the pain of their history they were still really truly able to function as friends.

And now she would help him again. In any way she could with whatever resources and people she had to. Because that's what friends did.

Her intercom buzzed. "Ms. Von Schroeder, the representative from Dark Virtue is here to see you."

"Let them in, Irma." Verthy pulled her thoughts out of the past and put her attention on her office door.

The person who stepped through was not what she had been expecting. Shrouded in a layered cloak that brushed the floor, they swept through the entryway like a curtain stirred by a faint breeze. And in the depths of the raised hood, blue eyes peered out. Perfect, calm ocean blue eyes and yet just meeting her gaze left Verthy tensing for what sharks would lurk in those depths.

"Hello, Ms. Von Schroeder. I am Justice of the Dark Virtues." The woman said by way of greeting, her accent thick as the Black Forest with Germanic undertones. "Thank you for taking the time to see me today."

"I could hardly refuse. When the U.N. wants something, it usually gets it." Verthy replied in what she hoped was a casual tone. Barely thirty seconds into this meeting and she was already off her marks. "What can I do for you?"

"I would like information concerning your history with magical events." Justice approached the two chairs set across from Verthy's desk. A hand, so snowy and clean and delicate that the room's light left a tinge of blue, emerged to touch the back of one. "May I sit?"

"Of course, certainly." Verthy gestured to the chair, the back half of her mind taking note of the odd question. In these circumstances, both this being a meeting and Justice being the higher-ranking person present, her sitting should be an obvious thing. "Are you here to talk about the Bride Tournament?"

"No. I have already spoken with the Pegasus family on the matter. Bellerophon was most forthcoming." Justice seated herself gracefully. "He has always been cooperative with us, though his new wife found Dark Virtue's interference in their lives annoying. And was not shy about saying so."

Verthy smiled slightly. "Sumire may be a recent friend of mine, but even the day after meeting her, I knew she was a woman who preferred straight lines to everything and tolerated no detours."

"A trait I wish more people had. Our work as Virtues would be much simpler if there were more honesty in the world."

"Indeed. With that in mind, let's get to the reason why you wanted this talk, Justice. If not for the Bride Tournament and Nitemare, then why?" Verthy asked. "My family may have a history of corporate skullduggery, underhandedness and a bit of zealous jealousy from my father, but magic is something we have very little knowledge or experience in."

"Then perhaps that can be changed for you," Justice replied, her pale finger lifting slightly from the arm of the chair to point at Verthy's face. "And that marvelous eye you bear."

Verthy felt her curiosity pique. "How so? I'm afraid it doesn't do much besides look pretty."

"That rune is the Triskelion, the three horns interlocking to symbolize wisdom, poetic inspiration, Odin himself and the connection between the three. And it allows you to catch glimpses of the future." Justice said. "Now that I've told us what we both already know, perhaps you'll be more willing to remember my wish about honesty in the future?"

The German woman felt her cheeks color slightly at the polite chastisement and chided herself for trying to play to coy to the woman who led the U.N. Division specifically responsible for magical things. She should have known better - had Justice's unsettling entrance thrown her off her marks by this much? Resolving not to flounder as this conversation went, she pressed on. "Well, if you know what the Rune Eye can do, what are you wanting it to do for you? I'm afraid while I can see the future, it is in glimpses and snatches that are rarely immediately useful."

"There are many ways to augur that which has not come to be, to pass or shall not ever be. We have no need for more of that particular ability; all are equally unreliable." Justice informed her, her tones lightening with a touch of humor. "No, what Dark Virtue would like to request is your assistance with probing the depths of a temple we have found in Scandinavian mountains. The Triskelion has been found on several of the decorations and is part of a seal on a large door that prevents us from going any further."

"A temple?" Verthy frowned at her. "Most of the old Norse structures were wood and low - they did not build grand, sprawling structures like Egyptian or Greco-Roman."

"We call it that, but we are not really sure what it is. As you have said, the structure is too large, too detailed and too complex for Norse peoples to have done. Particularly as we've dated it for thousands of years old, well before they existed. It is very unique and that is concerning to us." Justice's hands vanished into the shadows of the cloak and returned, holding out a small tablet. "Please examine these photos."

Verthy took the device - it was already on and set to the photos. The first depicted the temple's entrance, just two great slabs of rock that were leaning against one another while a third looked like it was to be wedged between them. Paging through them, the temple's interior was rough-hewn rock walls and steps, but the deeper she went, the more clean and precise the workings became. Broader and wider, almost cavernous. True to Justice's words, she could see runes carved here and there into various surfaces with the Triskelion the most predominant one.

It was the last few photos that took her breath away. They depicted tall, broad walls that had relief carvings of monsters and figures over them. Monsters that looked decidedly familiar. "These are...Duel Monsters…"

"Yes. Very similar to ones found in Egypt, Central America, China and more. The present theory is that the creators of this temple and indeed, perhaps the very Norse Religion itself, were escapees from Atlantis." Justice's eyes narrowed in amusement as Verthy's head jerked up in surprise. "As I said, the Pegasus family has been very forthcoming with information."

Verthy nodded and then went back to looking at the images. She didn't recognize the monsters at all. They had to be thousands of years old, but all of them looked to be recent and fresh. A piece of world history that no one had even thought existed. And it was connected to her and her Rune Eye.

"What would I be getting out of this, Justice?" She said at last before the silence could drag on. "My having the Rune Eye doesn't obligate me to do anything with it beyond having it. No more than being a woman obligates me to have children just because I can. I admit I find the request fascinating and interesting on an intellectual level. But you seem to be banking a lot on the idea that just because I have the Rune Eye, I'll do it."

"Bellerophon Pegasus is dying due to his curse, something no one has been able to stop. I have seen such things before, Verthandi Von Schroder, in ages past. A god's will is not something to be subverted by a mortal's hands." Justice said knowingly, her eyes suddenly as deep and cold as the ocean itself and Verthy almost felt like the history in them would drown her. "But the power of a different deity, however, would be a different story."

"You didn't lead with that, so I doubt you're bringing this to me out of the goodness of your heart," Verthy said as she frowned.

"Would you have believed me if I had simply said 'We have a potential cure for Bellerophon Pegasus and it involves the magical eye you have.' Context is important. And I wish for his curse to be lifted as well." Justice countered. "We will keep researching ways to break that curse whether or not you help, Ms. Von Schroeder. This is simply the route with the best chance of success...and of failure. That temple may very well be nothing but old carvings and dust."

Except if some kind of magic was preventing them from entering, Verthy was willing to put good money on the fact that whatever was in there was something powerful or dangerous. Probably both. A risk that she'd wind up in a duel to the death again like with Nitemare. And she had a life here, designs to finish, company work to do. If she went and there was nothing useful to her or Lero, then she'd have wasted her time.

Her gaze fell on the picture again, her heart seizing a little. Those fake, false smiles. He'd started wearing his again, she'd seen on her last Skype call when they both tried to avoid the fact the elephant in the room had a reaper's scythe with it.

She hated that smile on him. So, so much.

Saving my friend will never be a waste of time.

OOO

Nothing changed as they had walked. Same graveyard, same sunny day, same colorful flowers waving in the light breeze. An ordinary place on an ordinary day.

Rosemary was almost disappointed - a dark and creepy ambiance would have better suited the situation. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her nerves felt jangled with a disturbing mixture of sadness and grief, like she was sucking up all the emotions from the bones in the ground. It was completely at odds with such pretty and soothing weather.

Chrysaor had been quiet as they walked, scanning back and forth and slowing for a few moments here and there before picking up pace again. Now, though, he stopped at the edge of a large four-way stop dominated by a statue of an angel holding a staff aloft and a stone tablet in the other arm. "This is the place."

"What place? This statue isn't a grave." Rosemary asked, flicking her gaze about. But nothing leapt out from behind the headstones or burst from the earth or swooped out of one of the trees. Perfectly ordinary...save for the fact, in her soul, Diabound Allure was coiling and twisting, ready to spring out with claws and fangs leading the way.

"No, but it is the point where the malignancy is the strongest. I know you can't really feel it beyond a general sense of uneasy pressure, but that's only because you are not acclimated to being a Darkborn fully yet. I have been doing this for years, however, and can feel it. A hard knot of twisted rage, regret and sad frustration." Chrysaor stepped forwards and lifted a hand. Rosemary felt the pressure around them buck a bit, the dozens of shadows cast by headstones juddering in the corner of her eye. Like a record skipping a beat. "All I have to do is push back against this thing with my own power…"

The reaction was immediate, a violent yell ripping out of the ether and causing Rosemary to cover her ears. At the same time, a mist slithered into being around their feets and quickly thickened so that it covered the ground and crawled up their legs.

Diabound Allure balked, but Rosie tamped down on the monster even as the hairs on the back of her neck rose. "Chrysaor-"

"It can't hurt us, at least not directly. But if we leave this thing alone, it will eventually get strong enough to do so. And troubled souls like this need to be put to eternal rest." Chrysaor said over his shoulder as the mist thickened and swelled higher, crawling up gravestones, clambering up trees with eager tendrils that sucked up the noise and warmth around them like a sponge. "Face me, lost soul! Unless your fear outshines your wrath!"

"Don't you talk to me like that!" The angel statue's shadow seemed to flow upwards out of the ground, seeping into the mists which in turn twisted and wove themselves into a humanoid shape. "Just leave me alone!"

The words were loud, but to Rosemary's surprise, they weren't angry or intense. They were wounded, hurt, someone sulking.

Chrysaor took it in stride, his own tone softening. "I will not do that. You are not meant to dwell on this plane any more, my friend. Better things await you than this graveyard."

"I'm not doing it, I'm not! This graveyard's all my and my buddies got, see? There's no guarantee that if we let go, we go somewhere else!" The spirit snapped in return. "Now make like a tree and get out of here!"

"You have not even a gravestone or a marker, no coffin or urn. If you and your buddies, as you put it, stay here, then there is nothing. You cannot even leave this space. So what is the difference between staying and going?" Chrysaor pressed gently, taking a few steps forwards.

"Bug off!" The spirit growled, a sweeping arm motion kicking up a wave of mist that actually forced Chrysaor back. "Don't act like some goodie-goodie wanting to help so your mom can give you a gold start! You don't know anything!"

"I know that your existence is a kind of torture I would not wish on my worst enemy. Alone, screaming into a void, only able to chase people away faster with what little power you have in making the air cold and the shadows lurk." Chrysaor threw up his arm as he was buffeted by another wave of mist, but didn't budge. "Alright, then. Why don't we duel? If I win, I will help you pass on. If you win...well, you can hitch a ride in my body."

Rosemary felt her jaw drop open. "Chrysaor! Are you insane!?"

"What the eye candy said - you're insane." The spirit's tone had changed from sulky, though, deepening with interest. "But if them's the stakes, I'll play…"

"Thank you. I'd like a minute to get prepared." Chrysaor said and turned back to Rosemary, beaming a bit. "That wasn't as hard as I thought."

"You weren't thinking at all!" Rosemary said, a little more loudly than intended and then stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Why are you dueling it? Why are you offering the spirit your body if you lose? You said Darkborn have the power to deal with the supernatural!"

"I am dealing with it. Have you ever heard that old nugget about how the best way to deal with an illusion is to simply disbelieve in it? This is of the same vein - to affect the supernatural, one must achieve power over it. And Duel Monsters just so happens to straddle the border between the words." Chrysaor explained patiently. "I happen to be quite good at it, if I do say so myself."

The casual arrogance rubbed against Rosemary in all the wrong ways, and she felt her back go up at the sensation. "Fine, next question - why are we bothering this thing? It clearly wants to be left in peace!"

"Which it will never have, Ms. Bakura. Ghosts are more than a pale reflection of someone's physical presence, but their emotional and spiritual ones at well. I told you I sensed a malignancy and I was not speaking dramatically. This spirit is not evil, but it has spent years, possibly decades doing nothing but dwelling on the circumstances of its death, the painful, negative emotions and more. Those things are it's anchor to this life - it cannot see beyond them. And if it continues to do so, then that festering pain will make it truly dangerous." Chrysaor's expression tightened slightly as she gave him an arch look. "Are you going to tell me the unease, the fear, the trepidation you felt on the way here was a lie?"

"No…" Rosemary admitted. "It just doesn't seem as bad as you are making it out to be."

"I hope it isn't. But experience has taught me the hard way that treating the supernatural casually and simply is quickest way to a painful experience. If I'm right, then I spare this being more unwarranted suffering and protect others. If you are right, then I hope the spirit finds peace and can move on."

"You offered it your body to get it to duel!" Rosemary countered. "What are you going to do if it wins!"

Chrysaor smiled in a very familiar way that, against all odds, managed to relax her with its mix of daring charm and roguish pleasure. "Don't worry, I have plans for that."

He turned back to the spirit and strode back to his original position, activating his Duel Disk. "Apologies for the wait. Might I have the name of my opponent?"

"I ain't gonna tell ya, cause I don't know it no more." The spirit replied, looming taller, and more substantial. Now it was easily six-foot plus and while it was mostly indistinct shadows, Rosemary could see flickers of detail. Like the darkness surrounding it was pressed against it so tightly, it was molding itself to the being. Broad shoulders, jacket lapels, spiked hair - here and gone again with the flicking of the breeze.

"Then I shall address you as Spirit."

"Call me what you want, just don't call me Shirley!" The spirit barked a laugh as they held out an arm and a Duel Disk flashed into existence. (SLP: 8000)

"Very funny, Spirit." Chrysaor said with good humor and a smile. "Perhaps you were a comedian in your past life as well as a duelist." (CLP: 8000)

"And perhaps you once knew how to shut up and play your cards, buddy!" Spirit drew their opening hand.

"As the challenger, I am first." Chrysaor drew, tucking the card into his hand and then flipping around a different one. "I play the spell Instant Fusion and pay one thousand life points to summon Pragtical from my extra deck." (CLP: 8000-7000)

A large ramen container appeared in front of him and the lid popped off, emitting a waft of steam along with a panther-like being covered in scales and with yellow horns jutting from its forehead. (1900/1500)

"What's that? Some kind of cat-dinosaur thing?" Spirit scoffed. "Looks like the prize I'd find at a gacha machine!"

"It does have that aesthetic, doesn't it? Charming in a kitschy sort of way." Chrysaor agreed pleasantly. "My next spell card is One for One, allowing me to discard a monster and then summon the tuner known as Supay from my deck."

Rosemary watched as a mask just appeared alongside the fusion monster, mouth open in a grin with two curling ram's horns and decorated in markings. Wait - did he say that thing was a Tuner?

"The night comes, the world sleeps bathed in your light! Guard our peaceful slumber and create the path to our gentle dreams! Synchro Summon! Level 6! Moon Dragon Quilla!" Chrysaor thrust a hand into the air and his two monsters vanished, a gentle blue glow suffusing the field as a light descended to take their place. As it cleared, Rosemary could see it was a moon with a smiling face carved into surrounded by four gentle blue dragon heads. (2500/2000)

Spirit was unimpressed, the dragon's light just stopping dead when it hit its immaterial body. "That's taking a name too literally if you ask me."

"Well, you will not like the other monster I'm about to summon - I activate the effect of the monster I discarded with One for One - Level Eater! I reduce Quilla's level from six to five and summon it!" Chrysaor watched as a portal opened on his field, letting out a small bug with a carapace resembling a level star on it. (600/0)

He grabbed another card from his hand. "Then I summon Fire Ant Acastor!" Unlike Supay, the new monster was more realistic. A larger-than-life ant decorated with similar symbols. "And then I tune my level five Quilla with my Fire Ant! The dawn breaks, the world awakens to your warmth! Illuminate the waking world and shine your blessing upon us all! Level 8! Sun Dragon Inti!"

Quilla sank into the ground and the moment it had vanished completely, soft orange light filled up the space as the new monster descended. It was larger than Quilla, but was of the same make- a carved stone face surrounded by four dragon heads. They were colored in line with flames and seemed more animated than their counterparts. (3000/2800)

"There. Sorry for how long that took, but now I am ready." Chrysaor swept a card into his disk and it appeared behind Inti. "Your move, Spirit."

"Draw!" Spirit tugged the card free and then held it up with a cackle. "I play Fissure, so your bug bite is dust!" The Level Eater buzzed and then exploded into pixels. "Then I activate the effect of the Thunder Dragon in my hand! I ditch it and get two more in my hand!"

The cards fell out of his deck and he held them along with a third one. "Now I use Polymerization to fuse my dragons together and bring out my biggest, baddest and rarest monster!" Lightning flashed in front of him, resolving into an ungainly purple monster with violet skin, a horn crackling with electricity and a second mouth on the back of its gangly neck. "Twin-Headed Thunder Dragon!" (2800/2100)

"I think that the person who designed that card really had a poor idea of what 'Twin-headed' meant."

Chrysaor said dryly. "And it still isn't a match for my Sun Dragon Inti."

"That's why I got dis guy- Rocket Warrior!" Spirit slapped the card down and in a flash of light, a cute, cartoony-looking warrior appeared. (1500/1200)

The warrior instantly withdrew into his armor, the pieces clanging into place until he was a rocket armed with shield and sword. "And now that he's in invincible mode, he's going to crash right into that dragon o'yours! Waste him!"

Rocket Warrior shot across the field and slammed into Inti dead-center. The bigger monster went reeling, cracks spreading across its stone face, while the rocket just flew back to Spirit's field. "And now your monster's out five hundred points, so he's easy pickings for my Twin-Headed Thunder Dragon! Get him! Double Lightning!" (3000-2500)

Chrysaor watched as fusion opened its primary mouth, spewing out a bolt of lightning that punched through Inti's body like tissue paper. With a thunderous crack, the statue monster blew apart and showered him with the pieces. But his smile didn't fade. "When you destroy Inti in battle, Spirit, Inti destroys your monster and deals you damage equal to its attack points." (CLP:8000-7700)

"Say what?!" Spirit started in surprise as the pieces of Inti ignited all at once, gravitating towards his fusion like a swarm of angry fireflies. Twin-Headed Thunder Dragon roared as dozens of holes were melted on its body before it exploded. The backlash shoved Spirit backwards, the brief definition of his features showing pain and surprise. "What kind of effect is that-!" (SLP: 8000 - 5200)

"A powerful one, one of two that Inti possesses. The other is this one - as the sun sets, the moon rises. Moon Dragon Quila is summoned from the graveyard." Chrysaor said pleasantly as the blue-themed dragon rose up out of a glowing hole in front of him. (2500/2000)

For a moment, Spirit balked and even without any real features, Rosemary could tell Spirit was thinking he was suddenly in over his head on this. And she wasn't about to disagree, if Inti And Quila could revive each other endlessly in a cycle like it seemed, then dueling Chyrsaor was going to be an uphill battle.

Spirit rallied enough to grab one of his remaining cards. "I activate Last Will! I lost a monster, so now I can summon a weak one from my deck!" A card slid free and he slapped it down. The monster was simple in design, a wooden tree-person turned half-robot complete with metal limbs, glowing red eyes and treads instead of feet. "Woodborg Inpachi may not have enough attack points to do anything, but it's defense makes it a hard tree to chop down!" (500/2500)

"Indeed it does," Chrysaor agreed as he drew. "But I do not think the same can be said for your Rocket Warrior. Quila attacks it with Lunar Breath!" The five heads all lifted and opened up, unleashing a torrent of energy that twisted together and sent Rocket Warrior spiralling away like a leaf in a hurricane. He was almost out of sight before he shattered. (SLP:5200 -4200)

"There we are. Almost halfway done, Spirit and then you can go onto eternal rest." Chrysaor swept a card into his disk. "I activate the continuous spell card Card of Safe Return and then end my turn."

"No way, Jose! I ain't going! I ain't done!" Spirit growled as he ripped his next card free. "I activate Pot of Greed! I draw two cards!"

He lifted them free, a little crow of delight escaping him as he saw what they were. "I set one card face-down and end my turn!"

"My move." Chrysaor drew and then slid the card into his disk. "I set this face-down and end my turn."

Spirit drew his next card eagerly and then pointed at his Woodborg. "I sacrifice my monster for Molten Behemoth!" The cyborg vanished, replaced by a scraggly-looking humanoid rock monster with claws, massive shoulder spikes and a green visor for a face. Every movement cracked its stony body, sending rivulets of magma hissing free. (1200/2200)

Rosemary frowned. Why give up the much more defensive Inpachi for a weaker monster in attack mode? Then her eyes alighted to Spirit's set card. "Chrysaor-"

"I know. You only pull a move like this if you've got a trap." Chrysaor watched as the set card flipped, his smile dropping a bit in surprise. "Magic Metalmorph?!"

"This card equips my monster and gives it three hundred more points - but that just means I can transform Molten Behemoth into my favorite monster!" Spirit laughed as metal phased into place over the rock monster, sharp and clean and angular. Then it began to hiss and steam, bubbling away in places to let the leaking magma through and soon it was as if the monster was a living pile of ever-cooling, ever-melting ore. "Say hello to Molten Behemoth Slagblow!" (1500/2500)

Rosemary could feel it all of a sudden, a sharpness pressing against her senses. "That monster is magical!"

"It is. It's probably the spawn of his grudges and lingering feelings, twisted into being by his ghostly nature and whatever dark powers caused it." Chrysaor confirmed soberly, his easy smile now gone as he stood a little straighter. "And I imagine it's power is quite dangerous."

"You got that right! When I summon Slagblow, I can activate this card from my deck! Mystic Morph Foundry!" Spirit seemed to rip his next card out of the mists surrounding them and slammed it into his Duel Disk's field slot.

The ground glowed redhot in an instant, the mists around them shrinking away as they were partially evaporated. A haze replaced the missing clouds, churned into existence by the sudden clanking and hammering of machine tools. The transformation left the two duelists standing on metal platforms that towered above a sea of churning, frothing molten metal below.

"Aw yeah, this place warms a guy right up! Even a dead schmuck like me!" Spirit whooped, pausing in celebration when he regarded Chrysaor and how his opponent was waiting politely with his arms crossed. "Look at you, mister big talk acting as cool as a cucumber! You trying to piss me off or somethin'?"

"Not at all. I am merely waiting for you to continue with your move, Spirit." Chyrsaor said politely. "You may have summoned a new monster and your field spell, but my Moon Dragon Quila is still more powerful than your creature. And if you kill it, Inti will return to avenge Quila's fall."

"I don't got to care about that! Slagblow! Smash apart that cheesy moon! Slag Jabbing!" Spirit laughed as his monster clenched both massive hands into fists and lumbered forwards. "Get this! Thanks to my Foundry, any monster that needs Mystic Metalmorph gains half the attack of your monster when it fights!" (1500-2750)

Chrysaor braced himself as the huge monster lashed out with perfect jabs, each blow tearing off a massive hunk of Quila and its heads. His monster screeched as its parts were burnt away by the superhot metals. "A good hit, but now Inti returns!" (CLP:7700 -7450)

A glow erupted at his feet and with a musical cry, the eight-headed form of his sun dragon rose up beside him. "And thanks to my Card of Safe Return, every time I revive a monster from my graveyard, I draw one card!"

"See if I care! I set this card face-down!" Spirit slammed the card into his disk as Slagblow slammed both of its fists together as it sized up Inti. "Turn End!"

Chrysaor drew. "I activate the effect of Level Eater in my graveyard, reducing Inti's level to seven to special summon it." In a flare of light, the little bug was back. "And I draw again thanks to Card of Safe Return."

He added the card to his hand. "Now Inti attacks your Slagblow! Solar Breath!" The dragon heads twisted around each other, gathering energies in open jaws and then spewed it as a combined mass towards the other monster.

Then his eyes widened as Slagblow's fists punched through the stream, snaring several of Inti's necks in their grip and ripping them off the center mass. They were promptly discarded and a melting fists smashed Inti's center mass to fragments. "Inti was destroyed?!"

"I told you - my monster gains half the attack of yours when he fights thanks to the Foundry!" Spirit laughed as the energy from Inti's attack cleared, revealing Slagblow unharmed. "And his own effect means he can't die in battle!" (1500-3000)

"Then he'll die to my monster's effect! When Inti is destroyed in battle, your monster is destroyed and its attack points taken out of your life points!" Chrysaor watched as energy rained down from the sky. It crashed into Slagblow, but did nothing more than skitter harmlessly over the ever-melting surface. "It's immune to effects now as well."

"It's a monster transformed by mystic metalmorph - that metal coating means it can't be hurt by other monster's magical powers!" Spirit crowed in delight, even as Quila reappeared in a flash of light with all of its heads curled up around it defensively. "How's it feeling, big shot? To be the one on the ropes?"

Chyrsaor drew for Card of Safe Return's effect. "I'll admit, it's not a fun feeling to have my favorite strategy defeated. But it wouldn't be an interesting duel otherwise. I end my turn."

"Draw!" Spirit tugged his card free and then his foundry sounded a loud buzzer alarm. "Course, my field spell ain't cheap - gotta keep it supplied with fresh material." He pulled out a copy of Mystic Metalmorph and dropped it over the edge, the card vanishing into the molten metals below. "Then I'm activatin' my set card - Mystic Animation! This continuous trap means now I can summon big monsters who need Mystic Metalmorph without needing to go through the steps!"

A massive bucket descended from the ceiling and dipped itself into the molten metals. Once it was full, it rose up to the playing field and dumped itself contents onto Spirit's half. Though instead of puddles of metal, it was a gleaming, armored demonic figure that hulked over the field. "Metalzoa!" (3000/2300)

Chrysaor pointed at his set card and it flipped up. "I activate the trap card - Painful Sacrifice! Since you summoned a monster, I can destroy one of my own to negate that summon and destroy your monster!" Quila sank back into the void of light to allow Inti to rise up even as Metalzoa cracked and fragmented before it blew apart hollowly.

Spirit didn't seem bothered, a slasher grin appearing on his face for a brief moment. "And you just walked right into the second effect of Mystic Animation! When one of the transformed monsters bites it, it summons the original from my deck or graveyard! So here's Zoa!" Blue-skinned and bulging with power, Zoa was just as big as its metal counterpart and a lot more angry. (2600/1900)

"And here's where we are at an impasse, Spirit." Chyrsaor noted. "Your monsters can attack all they want, but Inti and Quila will keep summoning each other. You will not be able to hurt me."

"What do I say to that? I give Slagblow my Neon Laser Cannon, which gives him some more oomph and the ability to zap your life points right through your monster's defense points!" Spirit grinned as his machine gained a pair of large laser cannons on its shoulders. "So suck on this!" (1500-2000-2300)

Rosemary stared in horror as the monster opened fire on Level Eater. That monster had zero defense points, meaning Chrysaor was going to soak all of the damage as if it had been a direct attack. The explosion kicked out a cloud of debris that swallowed him up. "Chrysaor!"

"I am alright." The cloud cleared to reveal Chrysaor, indeed looking only slightly ruffled and scuffed. "Even if my life points aren't." (CLP: 7450-5150)

Spirit sounded just as surprised as Rosemary felt. "That should have knocked you flat!"

Instead of addressing Spirit, Chrysaor craned his head to look at Rosemary with that same gentle smile. "This is one of the powers of a Darkborn, Ms. Bakura. We can resist the damage that would be inflicted on us by magical circumstances."

"Hey, are you ignoring me!?"

"Conversely, we can empower our strikes to harm things, even if there is no darkness game present."

"Stop ignoring me!" Spirit snarled and when Chrysaor didn't look his way, snapped out his hand. "Slagblow! Punch that dragon of his to pieces!"

Chrysaor did finally look at him as Slagblow destroyed Quila, but only so he could draw a card as Inti reappeared on the field. "Didn't I just tell you we were in a standoff, Spirit? You can't defeat me."

"Save it! I'm gonna make you remember me even if I have to carve my name into your face!" Spirit barked and the molten metal beneath them began to churn in resonance with his rising temper. At the same time, the mists thickened and became cloying.

"I'd be impressed with that threat, Spirit, if you could actually remember your name." Chrysaor commented idly as he drew. "Now then, Ms. Bakura, allow me to demonstrate how to empower your monsters with your Darkborn abilities. You focus your will into the strike, same as you would when using martial arts. Like so - Inti! Solar Breath!"

The Synchro Dragon roared and opened fire, the streams slamming into Zoa. The large fiend staggered under the barrage even as it tore open neat holes in his body and then he shattered. The backlash crashed into Spirit, sending him reeling backwards as his shadowy body rippled and twisted this way and that in pain. (SLP:4200-3800)

Rosemary stared, eyes wide. Spirit was clearly in pain, body jerking and twitching even as it shed bits of shadow and energy. For a ghost, his breathing was harsh and loud, enough so that if she hadn't seen it, she would have sworn he'd been someone who'd taken a brutal punch to the gut. "But that was...only four hundred points of damage! He's reacting like he was hit with four thousand!"

"Our power works quite well on incorporeal things, Ms. Bakura. Beings like that do not have a physical sense of touch in the way we do and so never feel pain or the like in the same way. I imagine being hit like I hit him just now - well, being hit by a speeding truck might only be a slight exaggeration." Chrysaor explained, but he hadn't turned back to give the explanation. In fact, his eyes weren't leaving Spirit. "But the rest of the lessons will have to wait for later - I need you to leave now."

"Leave? What are you talking about? I'm not-" Rosemary was cut off as Spirit threw back his head and howled with pain-filled anger. The mists around them thickened further, the sensation that had pressing at her from all sides since entering the graveyard became claws digging at her skin, pulling at hair.

"He's well and truly mad now - this power is from all his negative emotions spilling out at once!" Chrysaor had to raise his voice to be heard over the increasing torrent. "Do not worry, Ms. Bakura, I assure you, I will be fine! Now please! Leave! For your own safety!"

For a moment, Rosemary was tempted to argue. Then the clawing sensations proved too much and she turned to run. The mists seemed endless and thick and there was a terrible thought at the back of her head that she'd never find a way out, that they'd be endless forever and she'd be stuck wandering until she died and became a ghost herself -

But shoes on pavement, sun on her skin, the smell of flowers - these things crashed into her all at once as if some switch had been flipped and she found herself in the graveyard again.

Once she was sure she had everything, she turned back. The mists were visible to her, but she also knew, somehow, that anyone else wouldn't be able to see them. That Chrysaor was dueling the spirit in some kind of alternate dimension or plane. One where no one could reach him.

She clenched her fingers into fists and tried to believe in her new friend rather than worry over him.

TTTTTTT

Plato was starting to dislike his own efficiency.

It was giving him far too much time to think.

'To dwell' would have been more accurate. Mostly on how to help the Young Master, an endlessly array of branching ideas and schemes that were pruned as fast as he thought them when he realized they would bear no fruit.

Modern medical science simply had no way to reverse this kind of degradation anymore than it could cure Maximillion Pegasus of his coma.

His eyes flicked from his paperwork to the alert notices on the corner of his work computer. They were the updates from the flight LuMed was using to ferry Master Pegasus to Italy so an alchemical cure could possibly be found. But that was such a long shot, even Dr. Annalissa had admitted as much. And it was all predicated on something that may have or may not have happened with Sumire and the Bleeding Edge technology. But it was a new approach to the old problem.

The combining of magic and technology…a new approach...

Plato tapped his pen on his paperwork as he thought. Perhaps they were approaching this curse in the wrong. Rather than trying to cure it, to remove it from Bellerophon...they should be working to remove Bellerophon from the curse.

And there were a few ways that were coming to mind on how to do that. One in particular popped to the forefront and in a bit of irony, he realized that this particular solution had in fact been the cause of Bellerophon needing to curse himself in the first place.

Rising, Plato moved over to where a picture of the Kaiba Family Estate hung and removed it. Behind it was a wall safe, completely with combination lock. It was part of the reason he had elected to have this room turned into his office - with them having to abandon Duelist Kingdom and the secure Pegasus Vault, having the remaining rare artifacts near to his person and his own personal defenses were the best securities he could devise.

The safe, however, was just a decoy. Oh, there was some very fine quality replica jewelry and a few thousand worth of various currencies in it. But they were bait, decoys to satisfy any thief who thought themselves clever to make this far. Instead of fiddling with the dial or testing the lock, Plato instead produced a single key. He slid the key in the gap between safe edge and the wall, felt it catch on something and then pressed in and down. With a soft click, he was suddenly able to pull the safe down as if it were on a dumbwaiter and get his real prize.

A different safe, this one with a thumbprint lock. It accepted him and he opened it. Inside, nested on a soft pillow, was an item. Entirely made out of gold, it was delicate and slender. The only sign of embellishment was the Eye of Horus nested where the crossbar met with the body of the object.

The Millennium Scales. Retrieved by the Pegasus family on the night, Lero had summoned the Winged Dragon of Ra in order to protect Rosemary Bakura from her uncle's cruelly heartfelt desire to spare her suffering by killing her.

Plato picked the Item up by its pillow. He knew the Items were quick to judge the unworthy and burn their souls. And he had, in his long life, committed many, many sins and crimes for which he was very unworthy to even attempt to use this Item.

But he also knew that the Millenium Scales did not judge things, it could also combine them. Or separate them.

And Bellerophon had just married into a family full of people who could use Millenium Items.

Now he just had to convince them this could work.

And hope it wouldn't kill his charge in the process.

TTTTTTT

"You are quite the opponent, Spirit…" Chrysaor commented as he drew for his turn. His clothing was more scuffed and weatherbeaten now. His field only had a Card of Safe Return and Inti. "But I suppose that little nudge I gave you helped, didn't it? "(CLP: 1100)

Spirit just growled and snarled. His shadowy body was now lined with pulsing veins of bleak blue and scarlet. His field held a Wicked Canticle card and while the only monster on it was some kind of twisted humanoid with nothing but wings for limbs and a few on its back. Eyes decorated all of them and its body was a human curled up in pain, the hollow skull wide in an empty scream. (SLP: 2100) (3200/3200)

"That Ossisyian Avatar - Sadness is more powerful than I expected it to be. It sucks away my monster's attack points and powers itself up." Chrysaor rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm going to have to admit I bit off more than I could chew with this one. This is what I get for trying to rush a replacement for my Wicked Canticle."

His only response was an increasing growl from Spirit and he flushed a bit. "I do sound a bit silly monologuing to myself when my Wicked Canticle stole your power of speech. Not like I could talk my way out of this one, anyway."

Glancing down at the card in his hand, he smiled a bit. "Alright, then. Time to step up my game and finish this. I reduce Inti's level by one to summon Level Eater from my graveyard once more!" In a flash of light, the little bug was packed. "Then I sacrifice Level Eater and Sun Dragon Inti to summon out my birthright!"

The two monsters did not vanish, but instead melted into their own shadows as if said shadows were suddenly powerful acid. They both thrashed and fought, but were pulled into the endless depths with ease anyway. Their shadows flowed together and began to spread like oil over Chrysaor's part of the field.

Out of it rose something that should have been a dragon, that should have been powerful, harsh and majestic. And instead, this monster was brittle, soft and twisted. The bare bones of a dragon, ever-dripping off inky darkness. When it spread its wingbones, there was nothing to fly withing except sheets of water-darkness. And when it roared, there was no sound yet the force still caused Spirit to stagger and Ossisyian Avatar-Sadness to drift backwards. When those eyes found their target, there was nothing to see with yet that gaze made Spirit tremble and shake. (0/0)

"It is alright, Spirit, it is alright." Chrysaor soothed gently. "This will be over soon. I promised to release you from this place and I mean to keep it."

The dragon reared up, spreading useless wings as it and Chrysaor both began to glow with soft violet light. "I activate my monster's special ability!"

TTTTTTT

Halfway across the world, trying her best to determine if drinking her last bottle would fix or exacerbate her seasickness, Jackie found her choice made for her as a spasm of pain in up her right arm sent the bottle tumbling over the railing. She cursed, glaring at the traitorous limb only to stare in confusion at the blazing Signer Mark there. And she knew it was warning her of something dangerous.

Up in the sky above Japan, Lero curled up as best he could and hugged himself, his dreams taking a turn that threatened to swallow him whole. His twitches became jerks that became mutterings of darkness and fear. His Signer Mark flared weakly, but the light was dull and mixed with blood.

And farther away, across a gap of space so vast its distance and travel time was best measured in light years, the blazing red comet that was the home of the Crimson Dragon did something comets should not really do on their own.

It slowed down. Not in a big or noticeable way, but in the way one might slow their walking pace when something unexpected catches the corner of their eye or they hit upon a startling revelation. And then, the comet sped back up, easily surpassing its previous speed as it realized that something that belonged to it had been usurped.

TTTTTTT

Rosemary stared at the gravestone. It had no name or any identifying markers and she found herself wondering if she could reach out and sense if there was a spirit within it.

What if there was? Would she be able to defend herself from it? To corral it like Chrysaor had and get to move on from this plane of existence?

Her duel with Edward was hauntingly fresh in her mind and she remembered how the flames of the darkness surrounding them had burned at her being. Chrysaor had been hit with some powerful direct damage, but had shrugged it off and delivered a more powerful retaliatory blow. She'd had to rely on Diabound Allure to protect herself and even then, it had strained her ka to its limit. The power behind those Avatar monsters and Wicked Canticle was no joke.

I'm a Darkborn. A monster. Those words had rung true for her since she'd realized the truth, since she'd seen others like her lose control and become terrors that slaughtered innocents and caused destruction with nothing but glee. It was her biggest, greatest secret - if Amane found out, if anyone outside of her little circle of magically-inclined friends found out, her life was over. Death would be the least cruel thing done to her.

And yet...Chrysaor had spoken to her as a friend, an equal. He wasn't afraid of her. Or himself. And he had said there were others like him, who just wanted to have their lives and be people again, to show that they could be something good.

As if summoned by her thoughts, a brush against her sixth sense prompted her to turn to see Chrysaor striding towards her. He looked a bit battered, but was otherwise intact and smiling. "It is done, Ms. Bakura. That spirit had been laid to proper rest and moved on to a better place."

"That's...great." Words suddenly seemed very hard right now. "Don't be so reckless again."

"I'll try not to." Chrysaor agreed with that gentle smile. "I do hope my demonstration showed you both the dangers a Darkborn can face...and how we are the only ones who can face them."

Rosemary nodded slowly. "Let's say I believe you about all of that. That I like the idea of living my life without fear of discovery and being able to protect myself. Why tell it to me in the first place?"

The smile didn't waver. "The first step into taking control of one's life, of one's destiny, is to know one's self. To accept ourselves in full truth, flaws and triumphs and everything else. I have met many, many Darkborn in my time, Ms. Bakura and nearly all of them hold that little voice in the back of their head that whispers forever 'I am a monster.'"

He extended his hand. "I want to silence that voice forever. I want you and all Darkborn to know that they are not monsters, they are people. And like every person in existence, we are deserving of love, respect and compassion. And to know we are not ever alone anymore."

They were words right out of a comic book, of every escapist fantasy she had ever read that had the beleaguered, newcomer everyman being told they were special, that they meant something and were going to prove everyone wrong about them. Bits of wordplay meant to turn everyone in rags into Cinderella because the universe finally decided to play fair.

And Chrysaor believed them. She could see it in his face, in his eyes, hear it in his tone.

She could even feel it in his grip when she took his hand and shook it firmly. "Alright, Mr. Shen. Show me everything."

TTTTTT

A/N: So, super brownie points to anyone who can guess who Chrysaor's opponent was. I will say they were a side character who appeared in both Duelist Kingdom and Battle City. We never saw them duel, but we did see their rarest card in a sort of 'blink-and-you'll-miss-it' moment.

And if this chapter feels a bit cop-out, that's because after three months of real life getting in the way and cramming so much in it, it was either get it out there or fight it with it for even more months. But now I'm past this lump, I'm sure everything will go smoothly

Next Chapter, we go to deal with our final Sinister Doctrine with two of the most unlikely duelists you'll ever meet! Marrying the King of Games means you have to pick up a trick or two about his favorite hobby, but are they going to be enough to keep Serenity alive? Or will she have to face the music in this Dance Dance Revolution? See it all in - Step To The Music!

CREATED CARDS

Spirit

Molten Behmoth Slagblow
FIRE
6 stars
1500/2500
Effect: Cannot be Normal Summoned or Set. Must first be Special Summoned from the Deck by tributing 'Molten Behemoth' equipped with Metalmorph. This card cannot be destroyed as a result of battle. When this card is Summoned, activate one 'Magic Metal Foundry' from your Hand, Deck or Graveyard.

Magic Metal Foundry
Field Spell Card
Effect: During your Standby Phase, send one 'Metalmorph' Trap Card from your Deck to the Graveyard or destroy this that have 'Metalmorph' in their card text cannot be destroyed or targeted by your opponent's monster effects. First time each monster that refers to 'Metalmorph' in its card text battles each turn, increase its ATK by half of the ATK of the monster it is battling.

Image: Zoa bathing in molten metal while above, another Zoa covered in the metal is getting sprayed down with some kind of glowing, magical coating.

Mystic Animation
Continuous Trap Card
Effect: You can Normal Summon monsters that refer to 'Metalmorph' in their card texts, ignoring Summoning Conditions and without Tributes. If an effect monster that refers to 'Metalmorph' is destroyed as a result of an opponent's card, you can Special Summon one Normal Monster listed in the destroyed monster's effect.

Image: Red-Eyes Black Metal Dragon charging Blue-Eyes White Dragon even as its armor flakes away to reveal its original body underneath.