Disclaimer: I do not own Jackie Chan Adventures or Yu Gi Oh.
Betaed by: the awesome and patient Zim'smostloyalservant
Third Age (Part 2)
The Villain
Yade Khan held her face close to the pylon that held Brenner's Sun Soul. She was surprised how expressionless her face was in the polished stone. She certainly wasn't feeling nothing after all that business.
Still, the frontstab had been necessary; it was not a backstab, as she had only held Brenner to the same rules others had fallen to. True, she could have spared him, like Alonso. But when the "evil dark goddess" is your thing, you have to show some ruthless fangs, or people might start to forget who you are.
And turning away to weave through the cloaked forms of her worshippers, she thought on that.
She was Yade Khan, really. Claiming the identity of Jade Chan seemed absurd the more she thought about it. The uneventful eons and her disconnect from the ancient world more recently had kept it from sinking in. But touching a culture so similar to her birth one... well, it gave a certain perspective.
She had given up her humanity long ago in order to fulfill the last wish of the human she had been. And as her reflection needlessly reminded her, she had given up any pretense of humanity.
She was Yade Khan, and her role was both dark goddess and villain of this tragic piece. Tragic because the heroes would lose. She would play the role, but the script was hers — villains dictated the course a story took.
Brenner was out of play, but she had two champions left, and the defeat of the first level boss opened up the over world to the game proper.
Plucking a snake gently from the air with one hand, she stroked the creature, smiling in anticipation of the fun.
Second Season premiee, Grand Palace of the Shadow Netherworld, Throne Room
"My goddess, all is arranged," Zaben said. She almost frowned at his interruption of her reverie, but it was a valid intrusion.
She set the interesting novel and the flashlight aside to rise up regally into sight on her throne. Blue fire ignited flanking her ad a swarm of snakes emerged from their nests to swim through the air between her and Zaben.
Hmm, she kept forgetting how annoying other people could be in interrupting. As agonizing as isolation was, it gave her a somewhat idealized recollection of interpersonal actions.
"You are taking quite a different approach from Brenner," Yade noted. Zaben smiled at that; it was visible under his hood in the moody light of the room.
"Brenner failed, his tactics did not prevail. The Outsider seems set to follow in Brenner's footsteps. Shock and awe will not prevail without showing the blood on our claws. I will break them before I face them in a duel," Zaben boasted.
"So you say. And you will have your chance to prove it Himinion," Yade said. With a lower arm, she reached to her lower back, two fingers sliding into one of the pockets she had installed on either side of her spine. She pulled out the pendant, gold with a black sunburst on it. His eyes widened in the shadows. Now she smiled, revealing all her pearly white teeth, and opened her mouth enough to pick them with her tongue for a bit of extra polish.
"I will give you a Sun Soul for this, Zaben, but do not make me regret this investment."
Two Dramatic Episodes Later, Gragas Tower:
"Proceed with caution," King urged as Trace practically stomped past the secretary. He had not had to go up to the suite this time. Gragas was in his office; apparently he actually had a workday.
Who knew?
"So you agree, he is involved?" Trace asked internally.
"No. I still say this is not in his character. Evil though he can be, evil manifests differently in different people. And this evil is not like what you have faced thus far. Be cautious, because Alonso Gragas is dangerous, and an old foe who may require little reason to take advantage of you barging into his lair," King chastised.
Trace grunted acknowledgement, reaching yet another needlessly large double door. More of the art deco style Alonso surrounded himself with. It almost made Trace miss the Medieval and Renaissance mock styles of Brenner.
He kicked the door open, revealing a long chamber with walls dominated by stone reliefs of Alonso's favored cards, one set before his desk into the floor under glass, depicting Dark Queen's Favor. Apparently one had to stand on Alonso's trump card to speak before the egotist's desk.
The man himself came out from behind the black wood furniture to stand atop the glass.
"Well, finally making more dramatic entrances, are we? You know, normally when someone dares to demand to see me with neither announcement nor invitation, I have Miss Peterson tell them to f*ck themselves. She has a delightfully deadpan way of saying it," Alonso snarked, leaning back against his desk.
Trace rushed forward, swinging to punch the other Khanner in the face. It didn't work – Gragas caught the fist. Next thing Trace knew, his own face was slamming into the desk.
"Now that was just rude. And out of character. What's going on?" Alonso asked.
"Don't play dumb," Trace growled.
"Well, I guess someone has been framing me. Or are you just blaming me for something? Why don't we skip ahead a page and you tell me what I supposedly did? I'll let you stop making out with my desk if you do," Alonso sneered.
Trace recapped the events, first through gritted teeth at the destroyed shop. But as it came down to the misfortunes on his friends' families and other even petty odd troubles, he found himself calming.
"I take it you're calm now?" Alonso said, releasing his hold. Trace straightened and glared at the young tycoon in the black leather jacket.
"So then, you claim you are not the one doing this?" Trace asked. Alonso smacked a hand down on the desktop and raised the other fist.
"Are you serious? When Alonso Gragas dials up a blood feud with you, you know it! I'm not some hack Mafioso with this leg breaking and arson BS. I'd buy out your pathetic store and show up with police to evict you legally, watching the whole time! Likewise for the rest. And the dead cat, that's just plain beneath me. In fact, a lot of this is. So unless Murphy has taken a shine to you and yours, Trace, sounds like you have attracted the ire of a resource-flushed and tactless psycho," Alonso shrugged.
Thinking on it, that seemed right. Alonso was the vengeful type, but his vanity in seeking revenge had been demonstrated. He would do things himself as much as possible, from both a contempt of others' competence and a strange sense of responsibility. And much of this black fortune he simply could not see Alonso doing.
But with Brenner down, who else was there?
His phone rang; it was Jonathan on the line.
Ice gripped his heart at the words shouted into his ear.
"Someone has taken Mildred!" Trace shouted. Alonso blinked, and then raised an eyebrow.
"Again? I should make a note – if I ever kidnap one of your friends, to go with one of the male idiots. Just to mix things up," Alonso chuckled.
"If you're not going to help, I'm leaving," Trace said, turning away.
"Fine, you're the one who barged in. I had something to discuss, but I suppose it can wait. And be careful, I would hate for something to happen before the real party started," Alonso said to the hero's retreating back.
The Docks:
Trace raced up the gangplank, or whatever it was called, toward the deck of the freighter. The others were falling behind him, but he didn't care. King was not manifested, the sword still sheathed but aglow nonetheless.
Part of him urged caution like King had. Reminding him even after what Brenner did, time had cooled his rage before facing the man.
This time though…
Practically leaping onto the deck, he went rigid, only moving to draw the sword. Shadows rose and danced along the perimeter of the ship. Even under the bright sunlight, they danced low yet maliciously merry.
That was why no one saw anything, he realized.
A cloaked man stood with a heavily tattooed man with a shaved head, stripped down on black pants and sandals. Between them sat Mildred, tied to a metal chair that he thought had been scalded onto the deck, narrowing his eyes. A gag of rags was stuck in her mouth, her eyes wide and pleading.
"Young Trace, and the King of Old. Welcome," the hooded man said. The voice…
"You! From the Ragnarok tournament. You were involved with Brenner. Are you avenging him with these atrocious acts?!" Trace demanded in tandem with King.
"I am Zaben, the Himinion. And if anything, Brenner was involved with us. Avenging him is the last thing on my mind, only avenging the dishonor that even an associate of us losing to an amateur and a foe long vanquished."
"If your quarrel is with me... then let her go," Trace commanded.
"Foolish boy, have you not realized I wage war by attacking far more than the person of my enemies? Brenner loved his games for playing, I love games for winning. But defeat my student here, and I will release your woman to you," Zaben declared. At those words, the tattooed man stepped forward, drawing his deck and and a battle gauntlet.
One Duel and a Few Unfortunate Minutes Later
"Mildred!" Trace and King both screamed. Even though the duel was over, King remained in sight, covering the distance with running that was almost leaping; he didn't even think to stop to check on Pawn. The silent cultist was empty anyway, a victim of his soul-stealing wager.
Trace skidded to a stop before the chair Mildred had been bound to, where she was curled up on herself pressing hands to her bleeding sockets, screaming.
What could he do?!
Something metallic clattered onto the deck, Trace saw it, the knife Zaben had drawn, cutting bonds and gouging… so quickly…
"Hahahaha! So helpless, little ghost?!" Zaben laughed. Baring his teeth, he glared up at the Shadow Walker even as he knelt, pulling Mildred into his arms. The Shadow Walker stood atop the crane hook, being hauled up and shoreward unscathed.
"Bastard! Get back here!" Jon shouted. He must have picked something up, because he threw it at the cloaked figure posed atop the crane hook. Shockingly, the throw was on target, and Zaben batted it away with his free hand. Black mist, no, shadows, began to form around the crane as if night had fallen early. More shadow magic!
He stopped laughing, though. His eyes were still the only visible part of his cowled face, dark and full of hate.
"You promised!" Trace accused.
"To let her go if you beat my pawn. And I did. I never said I would not take her eyes. You and this city are about to be plunged into a nightmare. A nightmare that is a foretelling of the Age that is rushing toward you as inevitably as the turn of the season.
"Just as your best efforts could not stop me from blinding her, struggle all you want, but the Old Blood will take your soul and those of all those who have followed you into the folly of opposing us," Zaben declared. By some unseen signal, the crane operator must have thrown a switch, as the cable began to reel in swiftly, pulling the mystic out of sight.
Later, Gragas Tower:
"Sore loser," Alonso chuckled. He sat behind his desk, the city spreading out behind him as a grid of light and shadow. Zaben scowled from where he lurked in the corner.
"I have sent a message that I will not be bound to being thwarted by a turn of games. I am stronger than Brenner."
"Stronger? Hardly. Strength is being able to win within the confines of the rules. What you seem to do is admit you can't win within, so you break them. Trying to spin that as strength only makes you seem pathetic. At least be an honest marauder and retain some dignity," Alonso said.
"…You have been mistaken for someone else, Alonso Gragas. And when that mistake is unveiled to the Goddess, you will-"
"That's rather her place, isn't it? And don't worry, your little cult will be part of my Festival of Battle. But I expect a certain restraint. Otherwise, I will defend the laws of my game."
"You would challenge me, novice?" Zaben said. Alonso grinned; pulling out the Yade Khan watch, shadow surged about him.
"Surprised? I'm not. I knew once the path was made clear that I would proceed to conquer it as I do everything I set my eyes on," Alonso stated to the taken aback cultist.
"Girls, girls, you're both beautiful," Yade Khan's voice echoed from their focuses.
"My throne, now," she demanded. He was pretty sure the click for the disconnect was made on purpose by the Goddess herself, rather than actual magic mechanics. Alonso rose from his chair, brushing away imaginary dust with one hand while pulling the watch out with the other.
"Well, best not keep her waiting."
Grand Palace, Throne Room:
Yade Khan looked down at Zaben and Alonso, having heard their plans in full. She stroked the shadow snakes that were coiled around her belly; she had felt like wearing snakes for this audience, just to see if it would unbalance these two a little.
Not much of a reaction. Well, she'd just have to use it on some fresh initiates. They were usually good for fun reactions to things.
"Does it please you, o'Great One?" Zaben asked. Oh yeah, the meeting was happening still now, Yade thought.
"Certainly. Both your plans seem quite pleasing. I look forward to watching them unfold in parallel," she said. Now that got a reaction, subtle as it was.
These two did not like working together. Which meant Zaben would have to be sacrificed. A pity — he was a loyal and diligent servant, but he was no Boaz. He would instead serve to, along with Trace, push Alonso Gragas into becoming a proper Boaz to sit beside her throne and share her beds. And she would not be so careless this time.
Speaking of careless…
"You are so confident in your Shadow Eight, Zaben? Our numbers and khanners are not so numerous, and their games will be the game of souls," she said. They were a strange group, standing off to the side from where they had been displayed earlier. Even with the robes, they were clearly all over the place in size and body type. Odd that, oh well.
More importantly, in diversity: two of them were nudged forward by shadow snakes and obediently presented themselves, pulling back their cowls to reveal pretty human women faces. She frowned at that, the snakes enrobing her responding by uncoiling enough to rear at least ten heads across her torso and arms.
"You convinced me to make an exception to the ancient law, Zaben, that these two born of the Old Blood had too much talent at the game and magic to not be inducted into the Order," Yade said.
Such smooth, sun-kissed skin, eyes multiple colors, and that hair. Hair of all things on these women, so… No, she did not like them being here. Seeing them in spying on their world was one thing, but this… no. They did not belong here, much less under her banner as if they did. Zaben had been wrong in this judgement, she decided, even if he wasn't going to know it yet.
She would kill them after this game played out. It was clear the Shadow Walkers needed to be reminded that there was only woman who should be on their minds at work. One who was far more exotic than these… these things!
Zaben kept talking, apparently not noticing her glare as much as the two not-Shadow Walker females.
"I have trained them myself o'Great Goddess. And they will reap a great harvest, along with their peers. Your petty Battle Carnival will have a dull finale. The opposition will never reach the quarter finals, and one of these Shadow Walkers will claim your soul," Zaben said, turning his attention to Alonso.
To her pleasure, he only smiled and gave Zaben a look that would not be out of place on a father hearing his child boasting of becoming a boxing champ someday, when they just knocked over a toilet paper tower.
"Careful, Trace and his hanger-ons have a way of winning battles they shouldn't. But if you want to make the warm-up rounds interesting, by all means. Might make a TV special," Alonso shrugged, chuckling.
"Laugh while you can, the Shadow Eight will not be defeated," Zaben declared, as the aforesaid eight gave that stupid modern Shadow Walker salute.
Ugh, okay, after purging the heresy of female Shadow Walkers, ban that salute thing. Also, possibly consider inserting personal laugh track?
Hospital, ER Waiting Room:
"You have some nerve!-" Tai yelled, bolting to his feet from the chair. Alonso only looked at him with utter boredom before turning his gaze back to Trace. He had not changed from earlier at his office; did he have any clothes that weren't some kind of leather?
Mildred would make some fetish remark if he said that out loud. The thought made Trace flinch, glancing back to the ER doors she had vanished through with her parents.
"Not in front of everyone, Tai," Trace said, getting up. Alonso smiled as Trace gestured they leave the waiting room. It slipped when Jon and Tai followed him.
When they stood outside in the small garden of pines and hedges adorning the area around the parking lot, Alonso spoke up.
"I hear you ran into Zaben," he said casually.
"If you had anything…!" Tai yelled.
"Tai, please. He already denied involvement, and Zaben confirmed it," Trace broke in.
"Snakes might be watching each other's backs, bro," Tai pointed out.
"True, but I don't think either of them are the type for those kind of lies," Trace said.
"Don't compare me to him, but you're right," Alonso said. He was seemingly inspecting a bluish pine tree almost the same height as him, but kept talking, "Zaben threatened that if you run or hide he will keep up his acts against anyone close to you. The fool doesn't realize your weak heart would bleed if he did this stuff to perfect strangers if he could lay the blame on you. Makes Brenner seem quite the gentleman — at least he only pounced after winning a duel," Gragas chuckled.
"What do you want? This has been too long a day to just hang out with you for the company," Jon snapped, kicking lightly at a nearby shrub.
"My new tournament is coming up in two days. The Festival will make Ragnarok look like a pilot episode with poor funding. I wanted you two in it, one to settle this rivalry finally before the world, and the other to prove when you quickly fall that you don't deserve these accolades fools have been heaping on you."
"…So this is your game with them? Are you and Zaben competing to replace Brenner? After seeing what happened to him? To think I had some hope Ragnarok had made you a better man," Trace grumbled. Alonso just gave a smirk.
"Sorry, you have yet to convince me that your corny ideals are anything that can change the outcome of a duel. But allow me to offer a carrot to entice you. Enter my tournament and reach the top to face me, and I will see to it your girlfriend not only gets a donation of eyes, but the best surgeons and operating equipment money can buy," Alonso said.
"You mean if he beats you-" Tai started. Alonso snapped his fingers, cutting him off. Turning his back on them, swirling his jacket, he kept talking.
"No, he only needs to reach me. I will be competing as one of the final eight. I'm not so sadistic as to give pointless hope like wagering my aid on his victory over me. Remember, you no longer have that card, Trace. And you have never beaten me without it," Alonso said, striding off into the darkness.
"…I really don't like him," Jon said.
The Festival Day One:
Trace stood on the sidewalk, considering if this was a trap of some sort.
Gracia Gragas leaned out, dressed in a white business suit and her hair done up in a proper bun. Bizarre for a girl her age. The limousine was also white, and had Brenner's old symbol stamped on the door.
"Trace?" Tai asked, hanging back with Jon and Fukuro. Already he could hear duels breaking out. He didn't see a Duel Port on her arm.
"Very well. I will be back soon," he said to both parties, before ducking down into the limousine. Closing the door behind him, he took a seat as it drove off.
"Thank you for trusting me," Gracia said, inclining her head. She opened a cooler seemingly built into the vehicle and offered him a bottle of water. After a moment, he took it, setting aside.
"So I take it this is about your brother?" Trace asked.
"Sadly, yes. I hate to play into his egocentric worldview, but it is him I want to talk about. I am sure he has used some leverage to get you into this new tournament of his. He's so rich and managed to come back to power from what amounts to a coup, and you would still think he was a toppled man clawing his way back to the top. Long story short, Brenner left a substantial fortune to me in the event he was incapacitated."
"So he really isn't dead?"
"No, and please don't make light of that," she snapped.
"I wasn't. So, if your relationship with Gragas is so poor, do you want me to deliver a message?"
"No. Whatever he is offering to entice you, I want to match it. Thwart him. My brother is too accustomed to winning and getting his way. He sees himself as the underdog, but he is the aggressor. He needs to be denied and kept being denied if he is to ever regain what sanity he once had. So I want to buy you out of his scheme, and you to deny him his precious games," Gracia said.
Trace thought of Zaben and the Shadow Walkers. If not Mildred, then others…
"Thank you, someone appealing to reason in all of this is a relief. But I have other reasons to follow the trail Alonso has laid. I'm not sure how much you know, but I'd rather not be the one to take you too deep."
She fixed him with a glare that revealed she did indeed have a family resemblance to Gragas.
…
…
"I need you to stop the car before I can leave," Trace said finally.
"Oh right! Michiru!" Gracia called toward the driver.
A Good Chunk of Season Later, Gragas' Office:
"And that makes eight. Didn't you say something about how the Shadow Eight would not be defeated?" Alonso asked, smiling at the readout of Amara's duel with Gastin.
"…" Zaben said nothing.
"So let's see — that's five whose souls have been eaten or whatever by Yade Khan. One man who Gastin killed for escaping the ritual and trying to desert. And the two women defecting to Trace's side. That's some fine decade-long cult brainwashing, that it can all be undone by one guy with no psychology training talking while beating you at a card game. Write it down and we could sell it online to other aspirant nuts, 'What Not To-'"
"Silence. I have won sufficient tokens to enter the final tournament. Yade Khan will either pardon me for victory or accept my soul's suffering as penance," Zaben said.
"Pardon me for not betting on you, considering your record on prophecy."
Semi Finals, Gragas Tower Upper deck
"This cannot be! You're a weakling poisoned with compassion! Weighed down by ties and devotion to mortals!" Zaben shouted in hysterics as his Divine Hydra vanished, sending his life points crashing down to zero.
Trace/King sighed in relief, the wind buffeting the tower top arena, cooling the sweat on his face. That, had not been easy. Still, watching Zaben seem to fall apart, actually beating on and breaking the card interface on his platform, Trace came to the forefront, with pity; to King's surprise.
'You truly are remarkable, Trace,' King thought.
"Can't you understand? Those things you have been calling weaknesses are the key to strength. You have lived a harsh life, carried a lot alone. But even if that makes you strong, if it's only your strength, and it's only yourself driving you, you can never be more than just yourself, never bypass those limits by having more to your life than you," Trace said.
Zaben screamed, grabbing his chest. Trace, for the first time, backpedaled to the point he nearly did fall off the back of the player platform. Which would also have sent him tumbling down, what, twenty stories of Alonso's tower.
'How does this crap get past safety inspections?!' Trace thought before another bloodcurdling scream drew him back to Zaben.
As he watched, a glow emerged from Zaben's chest. He felt it pulse, and light ran from his outstretched hand, connecting to that pulse.
The Sun Soul!
Trace pulled it clear, and it surged across the arena to be caught in his hand. It felt wonderful, warm, and just wonderful!
But, no, something was…
Then it was vanished into his hand, and he felt it start to course through his veins.
"Zaben!" Alonso yelled, leaping up from out of sight, silhouetted against the cityscape, his latest black coat flapping like bat wings.
'How does he jump so high?'
'This time, shadow magic. He's hiding the visible effects with that stupid coat,' King responded, as Alonso landed behind Zaben.
The Shadow Walker pulled himself up, face sweaty, streaked, and furious, braced against the interface. Only for his head to be grabbed and yanked back, exposing his throat as Alonso drew a long, curved knife with his free hand.
"Traitor!" Zaben shouted, as the knife was held at the ready at his neck.
"Not really. As this is sanctioned, it's more of an execution, really," Alonso shrugged.
"You lie!" Zaben screamed, but did not struggle.
"See for yourself," Alonso said.
A chill was seeping into Trace's skin, piercing to the bones.
'That force, it's coming again, like with Brenner!'
'For him,' King finished, looking to Zaben as dark mist rose from the deactivated gaming platform.
"What is it!? Tell me what's going on!" Mildred demanded, her head jerking around as she held a white knuckle grip on the observation platform railing.
"Something very bad!" Jon guessed.
"The Goddess comes. She will punish me, do not interfere, it will do no good and I would not have you suffer needlessly," Amara cried out, the reformed villain recoiling away from the rail.
The dark cloud both covered the gaming platform, yet somehow they could still see the people clearly all around. Magic.
"BLOOD," a voice called from the heart of the darkness. Where something unseen moved. Where something watched.
"See, all that talk about the price of failure… Guess it came back around. As I understand, it's something of a tradition in your creepy little cult for leadership to change like this, right? So why not smile that you get to die as part of a glorious tradition, Zaben?" Alonso said.
"Gragas, stop! I don't know what your game is, but nothing good could come from this… whatever you are doing!" Trace and King demanded in tangled tandem. To their horror, a voice whispered from the darkness in front of their face.
"Hush now, hairspray. If you can't get the right dialogue, don't spoil the drama for the rest of us," Gragas sneered
"Alonso!" Gracia called out.
"Gracia?" Gragas said confusion evident. His sinister expression slipped into bafflement as the small crowd parted for the short figure clad in white.
One "Reason You Suck Speech Framing A Flashback Shaming" Episode Later
"So, what is it?! Do you want the power to make your delusions real? Or do you have the strength to live in a world where you aren't in control of everyone around you?" Gracia reiterated.
Alonso scowled, but he withdrew his knife and used the pommel to hit the switch, sending the platform back into safety.
Trace watched and saw Zaben seem to whisper something as he slumped forward. Alonso punched him in the back of the head, knocking the cultist out. The amoral young CEO leapt again to the deck, and stalked off.
"Wow, Gragas got served and there wasn't even a duel first," Jon remarked, as Trace disembarked himself.
"Gracia really has blossomed, hasn't she?" Trace remarked, watching her disappear back into the skyscraper herself.
"Well, I wish it had held off," Mildred said. They all looked at her, stunned. She pointedly pushed her dark glasses back up her nose, and tapped them.
"Zaben blinded me. I was kind of hoping the jerk would be a doing me a favor for once," the blonde teen said.
Grand Palace:
Yade Khan frowned at the image being sent to her through the eyes of a Shadow Walker.
"Well, that was corny, and disappointing. I mean, if Boaz 2.0 is going to swayed by that, he just might not be Boaz material. But then again, the first Boaz I practically raised, while this Gragas seems like a convoluted cliche of a backstory at work. Maybe polishing off Brenner was premature. I mean, Zaben's bright ideas aren't working out and there seems to be an overpowering flavor of angst going on here."
"Your Malign Majesty is most wise," the attendant Shadow Walker said. The others chanted something or other.
"Meh, well, I need to go terrify Gragas back into line. Nothing to wash away a corny flavor like a good tall glass of nightmare fuel. And when it comes to nightmare fuel, you could just call me Sadie Arabia!"
…
"Sadie, instead of Saudi? That was a pun!"
"Your wit is as boundless and eternally deep as the void," one of the cultists answered bowing down to her.
"…Brenner would have gotten it. Honestly, do those scriptures of yours have a prohibition against humor? Because except for a rule about no one being allowed to be funnier than me, I am sure I did not write any such rule.
"Oh, never mind, just get the array set up. I need to go psychologically bully an angsty businessman into beating up someone with a hair gel fixation at a game of cards," Yade Khan ordered, slithering down from her throne.
Somewhere in Gragas Tower:
Alonso Gragas sat in a dark room, flipping through his deck. The long executive table and single leather-padded high-backed chair were the only furnishings in this conference room. The tower had a lot of vacant space just now. The real estate guy said the architecture was a bit too "urban menace" to bring in the middle crowd of businesses.
And he refused to rent space to that 'Tscop' takeout place. They plastered that tepid mascot of theirs everywhere. And had he lost track of the cards?
Great. He had only twenty minutes to make sure for the third time his cards had not been tampered with since the last duel.
"Alonso Gragas," Yade Khan's voice echoed through the dark room. He glanced up, having not noticed the chill in the air, or the darkness gathering and coiling over the table. Maybe he should hang out a bit less in dark rooms where the heat was disconnected as a money saving strategy?
"Yade Khan," he greeted the elder being.
"I gave you clear orders."
"And I could say I disobeyed them. But that would be a lie," Alonso shrugged. As much as he dueled with power, the bluff was a fundamental skill in any card game. And it's a small step from a bluff to a con.
Her red eyes narrowed to slits and she leaned down, aaaand down? Did she have bones? When he was facing the back of her head, the shadowy tendrils waving to close to his face for comfort, her head popped upward, showing her dark, blank face. He was pretty certain the accompanying popping noise was in his head, but eww even so.
Explain, the question was silent but loud.
"You told me that I needed to kill Zaben to lead the Shadow Walkers. I decided I don't need your cult. I mean, religion is one thing, I could accept a god, but kowtowing to priests wearing silly outfits and following a bunch of rules set by proxies… Alonso Gragas does not cut deals with secretaries or voices over the phone. He does it face-to-face with the ones who are actually in charge. If I serve you, it will be on my terms.
"Besides, these cultists, not exactly an impressive showing. Even Brenner's Eliminators had a certain panache to them, or something. This lot? Hate to break it to you, but the hype is not being made good on. Poor reviews overall," Alonso said with his best smug look and tone. Capped with an exaggerated shrug of 'so pathetic, but its not worth my time to insult you directly because your failure is so self-evident.'
He had worked long and hard on perfecting that shrug, with and without a coat to enhance the effect.
"Very well. I am disappointed, but I will let you handle this your way. But Trace — Beat. Him. I trust that is clear, no room for interpretation?" she demanded, eyes snapping wide open.
Well, the patented shrug worked its magic once more. And he realized, in addition to being less ugly to look at, this form didn't share Yade Khan's body odor issue.
He nodded his asset, and she evaporated away. He waved his hand a bit, magic making the shadows return to their proper places quicker.
Well, she wasn't aware he had given up on serving her. Gracia had made her point. He would still get as much of Yade Khan's power as he could, though. Magic was not a power he would cast aside now that he was aware of it. There just had to be a way to become godlike without binding himself to an insane tentacle serpent that wanted into his custom leather pants.
Well, at least her demands were reasonable, for the moment. After all, with Yade Khan or against Yade Khan, he would reassert himself as the absolute champion of Yade Khan!
Wow, the game and the monster having the same name could get confusing fast. He needed to work on some distinction system there.
Well, time to go pound Trace so hard his hair might start resembling what nature, and most schools of fashion, intended.
One Epic Four Episode Season Finale Class Yade Khan Duel Later:
"Well, Gragas, nothing to say now?" King demanded. The billionaire didn't say anything, his face a mask of disaffection, save for the twitch under his right eye as his eyes darted between the playing field and the two cards that were all Trace's Cleanse Evil had left him. Once again, Gragas had been unable to play Dark Queen's Favor, even after summoning it back to his deck from the Underworld.
The set up that would have allowed him to destroy the two Deities set against him, now had become an inescapable trap he had helped erect.
It was time to make the move, end this and…
And it really wouldn't change anything, would it? Gragas had suffered defeat, and each time rationalized his way out of truly accepting it. No, it wasn't even denial, it was that even defeat could not sway him from the rut of the soul he lived in.
'It's not always enough to defeat an enemy. Sometimes you must, before all else, strive to change their perspective. Or victory and defeat will be equally meaningless', the old woman from the arcade's words came back to him.
"Trace?" King asked.
"King, do you trust me?" Trace asked the ancient spirit. Because even he was already doubting this.
"Yes," King answered immediately. Well, that settled it, Trace supposed, and smiled. Gragas' eye twitched a bit more spastically.
Trace folded his hand together and placed it on his deck.
"I forfeit. The tournament is yours, Gragas," Trace declared.
…
…
"With all trust, WHAT?" King said, leaning in close to Trace.
"What? WHAT!?" Gragas screamed, throwing his own pitiful hand down on the console. The screens lit up, declaring him the winner, and the fireworks display and sparkler fountains across the rooftop started going off.
The audience, small as it was, was silent.
"Boo! What the F- man!?" Fukuro called out from somewhere.
"What are you trying to pull? You had me! And a forfeit? This isn't a fix — you're too much of a boy scout to kill your own near-murderer. You don't even know how a bribe works, I bet!" Gragas howled eyes wild.
Trace gathered his cards and flipped the switch, the lift platform 'thing' carrying him back to the balcony.
"You always go on about winning being the most important. Well then, you can have it. I already did what I came to do; I should never have even done this final match. Playing against you is pointless anyway — of all the dirty players I have met, you are the most skilled and the one most blind to any of the spirit of this game."
"Get back here! This duel isn't over! How dare you humiliate me like this? I don't need your pity!"
"Well, it's what you get. Now get us out of this compensator of a tower. I'm tired of all this," Trace said. Stepping onto the balcony, Mildred, with some assistance from Jon, grabbed his shoulder.
"Remember, the surgery is not-OUFFF!" Trace said as she punched him in the gut.
"You can explain later. That's for not smashing him after all those cracks he made about me being blind at the banquet."
"My reasons, were quite philosophical," Trace grunted.
"And so is her fist, apparently," Tai quipped. Amara raised an eyebrow at that.
"That doesn't make any sense," the former cultist remarked.
Then the Sun Soul burst from Trace's back.
"Wow, Mildred, you hit too hard!" Jon shouted.
"Did we forget about keeping the Sun Souls from evil hands?" King asked, leaning down to look Trace in the face.
'Calculated risk,' Trace thought back at him.
Then the dark feeling of ominousness came back, along with black mist rising from the dark below, shutting out the nighttime cityscape.
"Well, the Ancient Evil, also called the Queen of Darkness, the Dweller Beyond, the Many-Limbed Watcher, and the memorable Scarier Boss of my Scary Boss that we have been hearing about, is coming. Was that calculated?" King asked.
Trace ignored him, turning with the others who had not been "frozen out" by the magic to where the Sun Soul shined bright and radiant over the Yade Khan table, the mist swirling around it but drawing back.
Once, this feeling had terrified him into near panic. But he had seen more tricks and trials at the hands of the Shadow Eight. This was worse, but he was more than he had been.
"What? What's happening? Did someone crank up the AC? Gragas, what kind of one percent idiot puts an AC outside the skyscraper?!" Mildred complained.
A tendril of mist coiled around the Sun Soul. No, it was a shadow serpent, maybe an eel?
His eyes widened as he looked for the shape and motion, and realized the mist was full of them, and all around them.
Trace raised the sword, and the mist was pushed back from the humans present, even Gracia abandoning her frozen out escorts to enter the dome of clear air.
Trace watched a mass of the shadowy creatures rear up behind the Sun Soul.
"That's not a group," King said.
They came forward, and he saw those serpents were not plural, they all came from the head of a shadowy gorgon looming over the helpless light. Red eyes were the only feature beyond light stealing empty blackness.
It spread arms with pointed fingers and chuckled.
"Well, that was unexpected. All this and it ends with no change to the score," the thing chuckled, its voice deep; at one word raspy, and near gurgling the next. It turned toward Alonso, and the new angle of silhouette showed it to have at least a female shape.
"The Sun Soul is regained, Dark Majesty," Gragas said, bowing his head. The great shadow chuckled, and one of its head tendrils reached out to touch his chin, tilting his face up.
"But not how you planned? Well, that is fine for now. Consider it chastisement for thinking you could lawyer around with me. As for you..." she said, turning her attention to Trace and King. No, she was looking at King directly. She could see him.
"Little king, little king. Would you follow the example of your teachers and send a student into death on your behalf?" she asked. She did not advance on him, but she stretched — how long was she? — and returned to the Sun Soul. Two large, powerful arms emerged into sight and clasped the tiny sun in a halo of darkness. Two more emerged and began to gather currents of mists.
"You know me? Who I was? My purpose?!" King demanded.
"Purpose? You're a fleeting failure in a world that is falling before me. Your return is only a curiosity, as was the delay of my advent. But, as this seems a tad of an anticlimax — Zaben, clean up if you can."
In the blink of an eye, she was gone. The mist and everything. Trace staggered along with everyone else that hadn't been frozen. The others were concerned, at their sudden acts. What power!
And that silhouette, it seemed familiar…
"Uh, Trace man!" Jon said, straightening Trace up.
"Yeah, small problem here!" Tai said.
"Oh, what is it now? And who was the lady with a throat disease?" Mildred demanded.
Zaben was back, with at least ten Shadow Walkers wielding spears, whose blades had shadows dancing around them.
"The Blades of Retribution!" Amara exclaimed. Her hand went to the gold chain she still wore, only to close in an empty fist. Her Shadow Walker medallion, in all likelihood, was still in the river where she had thrown it yesterday.
"Zaben! Trace is mine! And most of those are my guests!" Alonso objected. He was hitting a button on the table's console. Which seemed to be busted, as he remained out on the precariously placed game platform.
"If the Goddess wills it…" Zaben said. Carver pushed several people behind him and drew his bowie knife.
"I knew it, the city really is infested with nuts," he declared.
'Well, no Yade Khan duel? I think I recall settling things the old-fashioned way,' King grumbled darkly. The sword flared bright in Trace's hand, and his body of its own accord slid into a stance.
"Pathetic slaves of shadows! Emerging from the dark like spiders from your nests!" a voice bellowed out.
Everyone looked to the penthouse roof, where a large man was silhouetted against the coming dawn. Light burst from him, relieving a mustached middle-aged man, of powerful build and a shaved head, wearing a…
"Is that a tie-dyed monk robe thing?" Jon asked.
"Kill it with fire," Madame Dextronic spat, pulling her angular glasses off.
"Who are you su-" Zaben asked. Before he could speak, the man punched the ground, colored light in his fist.
"Aurora overdrive blast!"
One Overly Flamboyant Magical Martial Arts Curb-Stomping Of Cultists Later:
"Well, this is unexpected. Another time then," Zaben said. He leapt backward, going off the roof. Trace walked over to the edge; a formality, but still. Yes, no man plummeting to his death.
"Flee cowardly shadows, your games will avail you not!" the stranger declared.
"Thank you, but who are you exactly?" Trace asked.
"And are you colorblind?"
"Who am I? I am the one who will end this long drawn out struggle. Not by playing the enemies' games but with the power and skill of a true warrior of the Elements uncorrupted! I am Maximus Domino, the Fist of the Heavenly Aurora, and it is I and not ancient failures and words of crumbling prophecies that will save the world from the coming peril!" The strange man declared. Though it occurred to Trace the standard for 'normal' had changed considerably since he started meeting the more serious Yade Khan players. Still, this one was a step beyond it seemed.
"Well get off my tower!" Gragas shouted, still on the platform, having taken off the control panel with a multitool and fussing with it innards. "And that goes for the rest of you. Tournament's over!"
Days Later, but Only One Episode: Hospital
"What do you mean the surgery failed?!" Mildred yelled, sitting up in the hospital bed. The boys flinched, the doctor didn't.
"With all respect, there was no guarantee of success. If fixing blindness was easy, the world would look quite different. When you calm down, we can talk next steps," the doctor said, nodding to the rest of them and walking out. Jon cleared his throat.
"Well, now that that is over, I remind you all that Gragas is not returning our calls and Amara apparently left to find herself, so we still know little about all that's going on here."
Trace nodded. "And Zaben is still out there. Though that man, Domino… There are forces opposing the Shadow Walkers, and if they are not inclined to reach out to us, we will just have to search them out."
Trace pulled out the postcard from that morning, Tehran. With a simple message:
"Come."
"Well, I'm not getting left behind, eyes or no. I am tired of getting abducted, and that is exactly what will happen," Mildred said.
"Don't we still have school?" Tai asked.
"Who even cares anymore?" Mildred huffed, folding her arms.
"Eh, I was flunking anyway," Jon admitted, looking over Trace's shoulder at the postcard.
Author's Note: Well its back, hooray. Well now it advances some. Anyway next chapter will finish the Third Age as our heroes finally confront the protagonist for a battle to end an age.
Now just hoping it doesn't take two years or more to get there.
Well, anyway I hope it was enjoyable. As hard as this can be too write(some of the has been on my files for more than a year) they are fun to write.
Long days and pleasant nights to you all.