Chapter Four
Leonhard led Siegfried into one of the nearby guest rooms, where Heidi was tending to the injured woman who had been laid in the bed. Bloodied armor was strewn about on the floor, and as Siegfried approached, he could see that the warrior had been given a nightgown. He gazed at her in awe, dumbstruck.
Indeed, she resembled one of his Valkyries. Her long, tufted pink hair fell around her shoulders and was spread out underneath her limp body. Though her eyes were closed, Siegfried was certain that they were a deep blue. She looked very young, and yet very mature at the same time.
He could see several places on the nightgown where red shown through. Heidi had tried to bandage the wounds, but it seemed that the bleeding had not stopped for most of them. The maid stood to the side now, looking concerned.
"What should I do, Meister Siegfried?" she exclaimed, wringing her hands. "Surely she must be one of the Duel Monsters that's been roaming around for the last few months. Medical doctors probably can't do anything for her."
Siegfried gently took the unconscious woman's hand and began feeling for a pulse. "Medical doctors are all that we have, Fraulein Heidi," he responded. "Go call one, please." He leaned back, frowning as he found that the Valkyrie's pulse rate was abnormally fast. How had she received such wounds? Had she been battling another Duel Monster? It almost looked as though some of the injuries could have been inflicted by a sword.
He thought back to the strange Doom Reborn organization that he and Leonhard had unwillingly tangled with. Some of the Duel Monsters had seemed to be in league with them, or at the very least, supported them. Maybe this Valkyrie had fought with one of them. After all, it was unlikely that Doom Reborn had ceased to exist.
Leonhard worriedly hung back in the doorway. "Do you think she'll be alright, Elder Brother?" he asked. He wondered what it was like for Siegfried, to finally see one of the warriors that he had based his deck around. For him, seeing some of his favorite card characters would be a confusing, shocking, and thrilling experience all at once. And if he or she turned up injured, he would be highly disturbed and concerned. He could see that Siegfried was definitely concerned. He also looked as if he was still having a hard time believing that this was not a hoax.
Siegfried shook his head slowly. "I don't know," he replied, truly feeling quite helpless. Really, what was there that could be done? He did not know if the medical doctors could help, but at least maybe the physician would be able to stitch the wounds, if they required that. But what if she needed a blood transfusion? Did card characters even have the same blood types as humans? There were many things that could be problems if her body makeup was significantly different.
He had not yet fully addressed the fact that she seemed to be a Valkyrie. That seemed so strange and still impossible, even though he knew that it was not. He had never thought that he would see such a magnificent creature in person, nor that the poor thing would turn up in such a beat-up condition. He wanted to know that she would be able to get the help she needed, if it was at all possible. It seemed that was the least he could do for one of the beings that had inspired him since he had been a child.
Leonhard bit his lip, glancing to the armor on the floor. Then his eyes widened as he noticed a piece of folded up paper that had fallen to the carpet. "I wonder if she was carrying this," he said quietly, reaching to pick it up. He shuddered at the sight of the bloodstains gracing two different spots. There was blood all over the stone porch as well, and he imagined it also graced the stairs. Some of the maids were trying to clean it up at the moment, before it had a chance to set in.
He had seen the Valkyrie's body when Heidi had first found her. Blood had been everywhere and at first neither he or Heidi had been certain whether the poor thing was still alive. But then Helga, one of the older maids, had managed to find that she was breathing, albeit irregularly. They had brought her in and cleaned her up, and that was when Leonhard had gone to find Siegfried and tell him. It seemed that everything had happened so fast.
Now Siegfried looked over, his eyes narrowing when he saw what Leonhard was holding. "Maybe she was," he mused then. "Give it to me." The boy complied, and Siegfried carefully opened the paper despite its crinkling protests. He held it up to the light, trying to ignore the crimson blotches that had soaked through. But he could not make sense out of the inked sketch that he discovered. He frowned, bringing the sheet closer for a better look.
Leonhard came to him, looking over his shoulder. "What is it, Elder Brother?" he asked, seeing the man's bewildered expression.
Siegfried shook his head. "It almost looks like someone's plans for an invention," he responded slowly, "but of what manner it is, I couldn't say. This almost looks like Herr Kaiba's original duel disk prototypes." He pointed to an image of a round, red and white object. "And this . . . this resembles those beams of light." He traced a line with his finger to the other side of the paper, where there was a sketch of a greenish pillar.
Leonhard felt a shiver run up his spine as he looked at the drawing of the latter. He hated seeing that beam. It would always remind him of when he had almost killed Siegfried. "But what does it mean?" he exclaimed.
Siegfried leaned back, rubbing his forehead. He supposed that now he would have to call Seto Kaiba and ask him if he knew what it meant, though he certainly was not looking forward to the communication. And if Seto was just as baffled, what then?
He studied the paper again. Were they trying to say that the Orichalcos light could have a connection with the duel disk? There was a line drawn from the beam to the duel disk, followed by some strange writing. And though Siegfried had learned quite a few different languages that he could speak quite fluently—including English, Japanese, and even the difficult Icelandic—the script before him was completely foreign. He could not think of any other written languages that resembled this at all.
A gasp from the Valkyrie brought him and Leonhard both to attention. Immediately they looked at her and saw that she had opened her eyes. Her breath was coming heavily and painfully, and she gripped a handful of the quilt as she looked frantically to Siegfried. With her other hand she reached out, as if trying to grab for him. "Master," she choked out, blood coming to her lips.
Siegfried quickly set the paper down and came back to the bedside, taking the woman's hand. "You're badly hurt," he told her quietly. "You shouldn't try to speak."
Her shaking fingers closed weakly around his hand as she looked up at him desperately. "Doom Reborn . . . has to be stopped," she rasped. "Their latest plan will . . . it will come to fruition . . . if they are not stopped immediately!" She struggled to rise, but found the effort to be too much. Growing dizzy, she slumped back into the pillows.
Siegfried looked at her with concern. He wanted to ask her about the paper—and about the way she had addressed him—but he could see how weakened she was and he was certain that it would not be wise to encourage her to keep talking. "They will be stopped," he tried to reassure her. "Rest, and it will be done." He could see Leonhard out of the corner of his eye, watching in bemusement.
The Valkyrie shook her head. "The . . . paper," she managed to say with effort. "They're going to . . . they're going to combine . . . the Orichalcos with . . . Solid Vision." Her grip on Siegfried's hand started to loosen. She stared blankly up at the ceiling for what seemed to be quite some time, her breathing labored, as she tried to gather enough strength to tell the rest. Siegfried had to know what was being planned. But she felt her energy slipping away the more she tried to hold onto it.
This should not have happened, she thought in frustration. I should have been able to win that battle. What went wrong? Why was I defeated? Her older sisters had been worried about her taking on the mission, but she had insisted. She would do her part, just as they would do theirs. But now after being so gravely injured, the only thing she had managed to do was to stumble to their master's home with one very baffling piece of paper taken from the office of Doom Reborn's leader.
Siegfried's eyes narrowed as the woman revealed this strange bit of information. Such a move made absolutely no sense at all! Why would Doom Reborn be interested in doing that? Did they believe it would make the Orichalcos stronger? But how could that be? They believed the Orichalcos to be an ancient magical force. Would they not think it would be stronger than a man-made creation such as Solid Vision?
The injured one struggled again to speak. "If . . . if they fail with Kaiba's version, they . . . they will come for the original. . . . Your version, Master. . . ." After saying this, the Valkyrie's eyes closed and she slipped into unconsciousness, leaving the two brothers highly confused.
It was as Raphael was getting up to find a damp cloth in the kitchen that he discovered their latest uninvited guest. He stared in disbelief at the mint-haired man who was kneeling on the floor and allowing Alexander to cry into his lap. At first he could not believe this and was certain that he was hallucinating. Then he did not want to believe it. Dartz had been reported as dead. Could he not stay dead, and away from the ones whom he had hurt? That was the only thing he could do out of courtesy. Unconsciously the blonde man clenched a fist.
And in any case, what on earth was Dartz doing there? Raphael supposed that he had entered through the open front door, but why? And why was he letting the winged creature cling to him? Raphael's eyes narrowed more. Maybe Dartz had sent Alexander. Maybe everything had been Dartz's idea. He could have found some bizarre way of creating the being with the Orichalcos, perhaps. Maybe it was all a setup to confuse and torment them. Usually Raphael was the most levelheaded of the bikers, but when it came to Dartz, his imagination and anger would both often run wild.
Valon looked up. "Alister's pulse is kinda slow," he said with a frown, and then gasped. "Holy . . .!" His blue eyes widened to twice their size and he leaped up, pointing his index finger accusingly at Dartz. "What the heck are you doing here?" he yelled. "Shouldn't you be burning in Hell or somethin'?"
Dartz met Valon's gaze calmly, his golden eyes appearing endless and filled with tales of all the terrible things he had seen over ten millennia. Then he looked up at Raphael, who looked as if he was struggling so very hard not to lose his temper. This was a confrontation that he had known in his heart would come someday. What was he to say to them? Should he even address the past at all, or should he focus on the problem at hand? He glanced down at the odd creature that had gone to him for comfort.
"I came too late," he said finally, subconsciously having gently laid a hand on Alexander's head. "Not that I could have convinced him to stop this madness anyway. Only Alister was able to convince him that this wasn't what he wanted." At least that was what he assumed from what he knew about Alexander, which was not actually that much. But since Alexander held Alister in such immense high esteem, it made sense that Alister would be the only one who could make the creature see the truth.
Raphael regarded Dartz with a look of ice. "How do you know him?" he demanded. "Did you fill his mind with nonsense and then send him here?" Dartz's actions of apparent comfort toward Alexander were not lost on Raphael, and he wondered what kind of trick the man was pulling now. Had he tried to make Alexander think that he was a friend, as he had done to Raphael and the others? The blonde man would not be surprised.
Dartz's eyes narrowed. "No, I did not," he answered. "He came because he wanted to come. I had nothing to do with it." He glanced down as Alexander looked up. The creature's eyes were glistening with sadness and several unshed tears, and his wings were drooping onto the floor. The Atlantean felt something as he looked into those perplexed and horrified eyes, but he was not certain what. Perhaps it was some sort of pity.
"Alister didn't want to die," Alexander whispered, gripping a handful of Dartz's long-sleeved dress shirt. "But I tried to kill him. . . ."
Dartz sighed. "Well, I tried to warn you," he answered. "But you were certain that you knew the truth."
Alexander leaned against Dartz sadly. "I don't understand," he said softly. What had made Alister change his mind? How long had things been this way? And what if Alister died now, even though he had not wanted to? Alexander would know that it had been his fault. He could not make Alister happy. And even if he thought Alister would be happier without him, he could not kill himself. If Alister lived and Alexander died, then Alister would feel as though a part of his very heart and soul was missing.
"You don't understand?" Valon snapped. "What's there to understand?" He clenched a fist furiously, but then froze at the sound of a weak, rasping voice.
"He . . . he didn't mean to cause trouble, Valon."
All eyes turned to the couch, where Alister had opened his eyes and was watching the scene. The gray orbs looked clouded over and glazed, and he looked as though he was still in pain but trying not to show it; still, he was awake. That was the most important thing. He had not died, and most likely he would not.
Alexander's eyes brightened joyously. Raphael relaxed slightly. And Valon reached out, grabbing hold of Alister's tank top.
"He didn't mean to cause trouble!" the Australian cried indignantly. "Oh, of course he didn't! I mean, just 'cause he was trying' to kill you in cold blood doesn't mean he wanted trouble!" He twisted the material in his hand. How could Alister stay so calm? He was the one who had almost died. Valon did not feel the least bit calm. It seemed to him that Alister was trying to justify Alexander's actions, and he did not understand that at all.
Raphael shook his head, reaching to wrench Valon's hand away from Alister's shirt. "How are you feeling?" he asked the redhead. He did not feel that Alister was actually trying to justify what Alexander had done, but to explain it. Raphael could tell that Alister seemed to have a connection to the bewildering creature, and even though he himself did not, he truly did know that Alexander was not at all what he would appear to be if one only looked at the fact that he had tried to kill Alister. The truth behind Alexander's behavior was very complex and even tragic.
Alister grunted and shrugged. "I'll live," he replied, instead of his standard "I'm fine." He glanced over at Dartz, feeling just as confused as his friends were as to why the golden-eyed man was there. How was he there at all? He was supposed to be dead, as far as any of them knew, but in any case, why would he care what Alexander did? Alister had been regaining consciousness for the past few moments and he had overheard most of Dartz's conversation with the others, including when Dartz had told Alexander that he had tried to warn him. That puzzled Alister as well.
Alexander smiled shakily. "I'm glad," he said softly. Slowly he stood up, watching Alister while Valon regarded him suspiciously and looked ready to lunge if Alexander made a move to step forward. The creature did not seem to care about that. Instead he tilted his head to the side. "Alister . . . you really do want to live?" he asked. He wanted to be certain that he completely understood this. If Alister wanted to live, then Alexander had decided that he would devote himself to making certain that the redhead stayed alive. Undoubtedly Alister would not especially want protection, but that did not mean that Alexander could not keep a silent watch over him.
Alister eased himself up slightly, despite the protesting of his aching body. "Yes," he confirmed, again looking at Alexander with firm, gray eyes. "I do want to live." He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he wanted to say more on the subject, and then decided that it would be good to make the situation perfectly clear. "I have . . . people to live for, Alexander. They would miss me if I died." Both Raphael and Valon turned to look at him—Valon in surprise that Alister would actually acknowledge this, and Raphael with a slight smile, glad that Alister finally understood.
Alexander bit his lip, still looking confused. "But . . . what about your feelings of pain? You were so worried that you were going to kill them . . . and you wanted to die so that wouldn't be a worry anymore. . . ." He could still feel those agonized emotions from the past, and Alister's silent pleas for death. Those pleas always made his heart ache so much. But it hurt even worse to know that when he had tried to grant Alister's wish, it had no longer been what Alister wanted. And if Alexander had succeeded in killing him, there would not have been any way to fix it.
Alister nodded slowly. "I know," he replied quietly. "I wanted to die then, more than anything else. But . . . that's past now. I was able to overcome the Orichalcos, and then I didn't have any desire to die." He looked at Alexander kindly. The being truly was so much like a child, so innocent and loving. It was obvious to Alister that Alexander had never understood what the full consequences of his actions would be. In the mind of such a devoted creature, the only thing that had mattered was that Alister wanted to die. That wish had to be fulfilled. Because of Alexander's childlike nature, he had not realized that killing him would only cause pain—not only for Alister, but also for his friends.
And he had not understood that it was not his place to determine who lived and who died. By taking upon himself the name "The Angel of Death," Alexander had actually demonstrated his true nature. Angels were generally seen as kind, compassionate entities, and that was exactly how Alexander had felt about killing Alister—that it would be the kind, loving thing to do. Alister found it quite sad.
Now the redhead looked into Alexander's ice-blue eyes. "Come here," he said then, much to Valon's dismay.
"Are you crazy?" the brunette said to Alister in disbelief. "You dunno what he'd do!"
Raphael laid a hand on Valon's shoulder. "I don't think he'll do anything now," he determined, glancing over at Dartz. The turquoise-haired man was now standing as well, and he nodded in agreement. Alexander was really quite a harmless creature, and he would never attack Alister when he knew that the man did not want it done.
Alexander gazed at Alister in bewilderment. Why did Alister want him to come? Was he going to strike Alexander for trying to kill him? But no . . . Alister was not like that. Alexander thought he could sense that Alister was not angry, but he did not know any longer how reliable was what he thought. Slowly he took a step forward, then another, until he was at the couch. Then he knelt on the floor, looking up at Alister curiously.
He cringed when he saw Alister lifting a hand and reaching out to him. Alexander actually could not feel physical pain in general and it would have to be something absolutely extreme and graphic for him to do so—but if Alister hit him, that would be more of an agonizing torment than a thousand attacks from the Leviathan and a thousand times of having his wing shredded and crushed. And he would feel it. Most assuredly he would feel it.
The hand came down gently on Alexander's head. Again the strange boy looked up, this time in awe, as Alister slowly and kindly stroked his fiery red hair. Alister saw him as a child with a mental age of possibly around seven—the same age that Miruko had been when he had perished. He pitied the poor thing very much, and even though they were polar opposites, he saw something about Alexander that was the same. And that was what he had noticed before—that they had both tried in their misguided and confused ways to administer justice. Alexander, in a way, was a lost soul—just as were Alister and his friends.
Valon blinked in surprise, crossing his arms. I wasn't expecting that, he thought to himself. And yet, what had he been expecting? He should have known that Alister would not harm the being. He glanced up at Raphael questioningly. The blonde man merely grunted and turned away, allowing Alister to have his moment of showing kindness to Alexander.
Raphael was not that surprised by Alister's actions. His friend did understand Alexander's true soul. And Alister could never hurt anything so childlike. It would go against Alister's own nature to do so.
Instead Raphael turned his attention to Dartz, narrowing his sapphire blue eyes. "I want some answers," he growled. "I think we've got a right to know why you came here, and what kinda connection you've got with Alexander." Alister had called the creature by that name twice now, so Raphael had decided that he might as well use it too. Once the trio was alone again, he determined that he would ask Alister how he had known to address the entity as such.
Dartz frowned at his former warrior. "I don't really believe that my connection with Alexander is any of your business," he replied, confirming the creature's name. "And as for why I came, I already explained that." He half-turned away. "I said I had come to stop Alexander."
Valon turned to frown at the man as well. "Yeah? Well, that sounds just a mite fishy comin' from you, Ponytail," he retorted. "We kinda don't believe you, not after what you did."
"And you don't have any reason to believe me," Dartz said wearily. He then thought it over and added dryly, "But if you don't intend to put any stock in what I tell you, then why bother to even ask me?" He watched Valon find himself at a loss for words after trying to stumble over an answer. Then the Atlantean looked to Raphael, who grunted.
"You were s'pposed to be dead, too," Valon said suddenly.
Dartz regarded him with a bored expression. "That I was," he replied, "but do I look dead to you?" He glanced over at Alexander, seeing him getting up. Perhaps now they would be able to leave. Dartz would only be more than happy to. He certainly did not belong there, and Raphael and Valon would likely need time to digest everything that had happened before they could start to think about accepting Alexander. Even so, Dartz had the strange feeling that Alexander would continue to live with him all the time. He could not say whether he liked that idea or not.
"Come, Alexander," he said then.
Alexander looked over at him and nodded. He was smiling again, and he looked genuinely happy. After hugging Alister—and making sure to be gentle—the creature came over to his adopted father. As usual, his wings were spread out in his bliss.
Liu purred happily, rubbing against both newcomers before hopping onto the couch beside Alister. Raphael shook his head in disbelief, while Valon's mouth dropped open. Honestly, that cat was friendly to everyone.
"Just tell me one thing," Raphael said then. "Why haven't we ever seen Alexander before?"
Alexander snuggled Dartz from behind, then looked over at the bikers. "Because the Orichalcos took me instead of Alister," he announced simply. "Then I was all alone and trapped in a bubble . . . and the Leviathan was mean." Dartz tensed at the embrace, but Alexander paid no heed. He smiled proudly. "Dartz set me free!" Then he teleported out with the Atlantean, leaving behind a large, white feather. Immediately Liu rushed to pounce upon it, while the bikers all exchanged looks.
"Somehow," Raphael muttered, "I don't think we've seen the last of either of them." Alister and Valon concurred.
Far away, a long-haired figure watched a large city from atop a hill. Its dark blue hair blew out gently in the wind, brushing against the soft, yet serious face. Matching navy bangs swept across the eyes, which were also blue. As it observed, a large turquoise seal appeared over the entire city. Screams of confusion could be heard from below, but there was nothing that could be done. People ran desperately, trying to escape the ominous presence, but at all edges of the city was an unseen barrier. No one could get out, and no one could go in. Then the screams were silenced and the seal slowly vanished.
The entity clenched a gloved fist tightly, feelings of anger and revulsion coursing through its veins. This was outrageous. So Doom Reborn had truly done it then. Their efforts to stop them had failed. There was no point going down into the city. Everyone within had lost their souls.
Slowly and painstakingly the figure turned away and stepped forward, favoring its right leg. This was far from over. Doom Reborn had won the battle, but they would not win the war.