First of all, I would just like to apologize for taking so long for an update. As mentioned in previous A/Ns, I have no schedule for this story, but the reason why it went on months without an update is because I've been training for a job, which took up most of my time.

Also, if you REALLY like what you're reading, please support me on SubscribeStar at:

www. subscribestar jackwayne (remove the spaces.)

Just $1 a month to keep me going!

But enough about my life, let's jump into this chapter.

Raymond had to walk back; no bus, no hitchhiking, just walking. It was because it was scenic, or at least, that was what he'd liked to tell himself. Certainly, it was scenic. Raymond visited the famed World's Fair Globe, circled by a netted fence of irregular shapes in between.

He really wished he had a motorcycle right now, however. Heck, he'd even settle for a rusted bicycle as he'd pedal up the bridge while he could see the smallest hint of moonlight slowly creeping up from the skyline horizon. His legs were already numb from the previous hills he had to overcome with his worn-out shoes. At least it seemed that tonight was going to have the full moon, generously helping him with its dim light. The summer breeze flowed through him in this sweating night, chilling the sweat dripping out of his pores from the sun's heat.

He touched the shape of his deck again for the fifth time, resting in his shirt pocket. It'd become a habit if he continued doing that; he didn't know why, he just felt the urge to touch it, to reassure himself that it didn't fall out when he was walking up that hill or that he didn't forget it back at the cafe.

It was more of checking if his heart was still there, working functionally. Making sure that it wasn't having some sort of a stroke. Again, he didn't know why, he just did. He had been feeling this way ever since the duel with Travis, although it had been getting better as the hours pass.

Travis. Raymond held his wallet in his hand; he looked at his knees. It was still fresh in his mind about that humiliating loss. Hopefully, although not likely, nobody decided to take a photo or even video that moment. Nowadays, everybody was always looking for that shot at fame, regardless if other people would be the expense, especially about a stranger. Seriously, he wouldn't be surprised if he became a laughingstock for weeks to come, or at worst case, years. Raymond could only… pray that every single one of them decided that it wasn't that newsworthy and delete it from their phones.

Shouldn't he have something more serious to think about? Wouldn't he want to seize this opportunity to reflect and review on Travis's strategies? After all, it was said that the greatest teacher of success was defeat. But no. Raymond just didn't feel like it. He just wanted to relax, get back to the motel, and call it a day.

It should be shameful that he was this docile, this complicit in failure. But he didn't feel like that either. He was just… empty.

He could have done the rational thing and went back to that thief's place and just rob him in return. Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, card for card. Biblical, even, so he had the moral landscape covered.

But who would want to live in a world where mercy could be rescinded at any time?

His feet were sore at this point. All the friction building inside between the sole and his socks finally got to him. But luckily, he arrived just in time for some well-deserved rest. He made it back to the hotel.

In fact, he was facing the same open picnic area of the hotel, which was right next to the parking lot. And that little spot of dried blood was underneath his feet. Guess nobody bothered to clean it. It was certainly a Goddamn surprise why this place wasn't treated as a crime scene. Maybe it was because no one was actually murdered, and robbery didn't necessarily constitute a yellow tape around the perimeter. But he was stabbed, and Dylan knew he was stabbed, so the question was in flux.

The night surprisingly made the place only more scenic with its green grass and trees reflecting the soft light of the streetlights. That, or the pain was messing with his head.

"Novak?" A voice called to him. Raymond turned his head a slight degree to the left. There Dylan was, approaching him with somewhat of a limp. It certainly wasn't there before, so something must've happened while he was gone. "Novak! Where were you?"

Raymond himself slowly made his way to one of the benches and sat down. Hand over his face, of course. Unless he thought of a better way to not have an eye-to-eye with Dylan, then Raymond was sticking to it. His tone was, for the first time in a long time, pitiful. "Trying to get your cards back."

"How were you even going to do that?" Dylan's voice implied he was puzzled at the answer.

"Doesn't matter. I failed." Raymond sighed. It came a moment when he wanted to say that he tried his best, that he would describe exactly the lengths he went through and the punches he took. Punches, from both physically and spiritually. Dylan would understand probably better than he could that Travis was almost an impossible man to beat. Almost impossible, as Raymond wanted to leave some room for hope, no matter how fringe.

But he didn't, because all of that could be summed up in only two words. "I'm sorry."

And by that, Dylan made an understanding noise. Raymond still had his hand covering his face in defeat, perhaps he might even do this for the whole night. And no, sleeping didn't count; he would be awake doing this. Just sitting here alone on this bench, holding the exact same pose until the sun cracked the next dawn.

Dylan placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't say anything, but somehow, he knew.

"What happened with the police?" Raymond asked after a minute passed.

"They took my statement and said they'll call me in for a line-up if they found enough people with similar descriptions." Dylan answered. "I also told them that you were stabbed; they didn't understand why you left before they could assist you."

"I told you why."

"Yeah, but life is worth any amount of money, Novak." Dylan pushed back. One of the rare moments when Dylan showed some aggression. "Don't destroy yourself just for money."

Raymond chuckled. "You know, my mother used to say the same thing."

"Smart woman." Dylan quickly quipped. "Maybe I should rat you out to her. You're acting like a kid who never got spanked."

His laughter died down, though not completely. "Don't worry, she knows."

"Really now?"

Raymond lifted his head toward the darkening sky. Sentimentally. Yearningly. Reminiscently. "She knows."

"Oh." Dylan realized. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

And them, silence came between them again, just as when it came between them this morning. Minute by minute, the silence alleviated the burden on his shoulders.

"So," Raymond broke the quiet. "What would you do now without your cards?"

Instantaneously, he wished he hadn't asked that question. Because it was at that moment, he was reminded of what an advantage it was if Dylan couldn't compete. The possibility that Raymond would have to face off with Dylan in the finals had occurred to him—he wasn't an idiot—but to take his hospitality then crush his hopes was not a pleasant thought.

It was cruel. And it was inevitable. Unless of course, Dylan couldn't compete at all. Perhaps Raymond could feel better about it then, because it was not him that had to deal the killing blow. Perhaps not.

Do the soldiers of a firing squad actually feel any less of the blood burden, if he was unsure whether or not the barrel was loaded with a blank, so he may hide behind the fact that no one would be able to determine who fired the fatal shot? Would it still haunt him because his job was to make sure the criminal was dead, instead of firing the bullet?

"I still have one deck that wasn't stolen." Dylan said. "Though I'm not sure if it would get me far enough."

So, one man had been dismissed from the firing squad, leaving only two men left. Either somebody else would defeat Dylan in the semi-finals, or Raymond would have to do it himself. Either way was a sad thing to let happen. But it must be done. Raymond would rather be cruel than to be useless, to be the one at fault for the death of his sister.

The wind blew strong. The last inch of the sun finally hid itself beyond the horizon, leaving behind only the glow of a red and orange hue as its last traces of the day. As the summer breeze continue to flow through the two of them, the moonlight arose from skyline and trees. And the small stars lit one by one as speckles of dots; the cold wind of the crystal night shook the fragrant flowers, singing them to sleep. Nests of birds began to quiet down, exhausted by the working days of feeding their young.

Nature was ignorant of the almost dark void in the sky above them, drawn by a color since time immemorial.

Then, and suddenly then, did something happen. The darkening sky started to glow blue. Both of them turned their heads towards the source of the luminous hue, in morbid curiosity. The light latched itself onto the background, striking as fast as lightning throughout the sky, from north to south. The light had gotten deeper, digging its way through the walls, the electrical system, all the way to the barred sewers on the streets. It blinded Raymond's eyes for a split moment, not even being able to tell if his eyes are closed or opened.

The light then faded away as fast as it came. But it was like a vampire, as it took the lights from anywhere it could, from the motel rooms which were lit before, now found themselves in complete blackness. The streetlamps too, rows after rows of them, shut down after the blue hue went away. In fact, everywhere he looked, it was plunged into absolute darkness.

"A blackout?" Dylan said, checking his phone. "Damn, I don't even have a signal."

"Something must've exploded." Raymond added, pointing at the direction where the blue glow once was. "That'd explain that strange blue light."

"Wouldn't that have explosions, then? Where's the fire?"

"Trudeau," Raymond bemused. "Not every explosion is a ka-boom."

"Uh, yes it is." Dylan inserted with confidence. That was putting it nicely. "That's the very definition of an explosion!"

"Look it up, it's not." Raymond snickered, and he interrupted Dylan before he could begin to counter him. "And don't give me that Google shit; give me an academic one like Merriam-Webster."

"Novak, cell towers are down; I don't have internet."

"Doesn't matter; explosions are defined as a rapid and sudden expansion of something. It has nothing to do with fire."

"Explosions are explosions!" Dylan simpered. "A rapid and sudden expansion results in very high amount of kinetic energy equivalent to an exothermic chemical process of combustion! Which is known as fire!"

Raymond chuckledly sighed. "You know what? Let's just put this behind us."

"Well… okay." Dylan stretched out his muscles and twisted his spine to the point where it was flexible again, evident by the snapping noise.

"The argument is as stupid as saying that a hot dog is a sandwich."

That earned Raymond a snidding look from Dylan. Uh oh. Something told Raymond that he wasn't going to like it. "The hell do you mean it's stupid? A hot dog is a sandwich!"

Raymond paused. Oh… oh… he definitely didn't like it.

"Oh my God…" Raymond gasped. "You're one of them."

"And you're one of them…" Dylan gasped in the same way. "I have failed you Novak, I have failed you…"

"I should've known you would think a hot dog is a sandwich." Raymond shook his head.

"Novak! It's meat between bread!"

"From my knowledge, it belongs in a separate category!"

"Well then you are lost!"

"Oh this is the end—" Raymond paused midway as something caught the corner of his eye. Something hovering lightyears above as he was drawn towards the strange cloud. Metaphorically, as the light returned as the afterimage of his long forgotten childhood, still blinding him for a few seconds before he could finally see. See the clustering of stars glowing brighter than the city nights; the Milky Way. And him, struck in awe.

"Holy moly," Dylan exclaimed in the same awe-struck fashion after following Raymond's line of sight when he noticed Raymond was essentially captivated. "I'd never thought I'd see something like this before."

The sense of renaissance latched onto his skin, striking as fast as lightning throughout his body. No, he was the lightning. He was thundering across the wonder of space and time. The most beautiful of art, sung by a people of a time long past and will be admired by a people who are yet to be born. It was one thing for Raymond to imagine it, it was another to actually see it. He wished Reynalda was here to see it with him. And maybe, just maybe, they together can discover which star was their mother watching from Heaven above.

"It must be a city-wide blackout if the light pollution went away that much."

Stars, oh the stars! Was this really what their ancestors saw? Every night? To have something whispering to them in a way the ears cannot hear. Minute by minute, Raymond truly understood why every civilization in the history of mankind believed in some higher power. They have witnessed the finest sculpture only made from divine hands.

"Novak, I have to tell you something…"

Hell, if Raymond wasn't convinced before, then he surely was now. Life in the darkness, warmth from cold, hope from nothingness. Just look at it! An orient on high, banishing the lingering gloom as its royal door flung wide and free with its heavenward road secured to the earth! The path to the emptiness of vanity barred, the endless doom conquered!

"The truth is… I'm not doing helping you out of the goodness of my heart."

He finally could remember in full detail of that night, when it was just him and his mother, sitting together at midnight during their camping trip, admiring the same sea of majesty he was witnessing right now. How she draped his little childish body with a blanket as Reynalda and… his father slept in their respective tents.

"I'm only being generous because I'm hoping God will let me win the tournament."

The eternal home. No matter the years that passed, Raymond felt that same warmth again, as if it was yesterday. Raymond smiled, feeling the wind blow his hair into a tousled mane. He didn't care. He just wanted to share this moment, under the Milky Way, with all whom he loved, and perhaps in the future, will love.

"Trudeau."

"Yeah?"

"Don't let anyone demonize you just because you have some side motive for doing good deeds. Anyone who does that is an immoral vampire who wants to drain all of the benefits from you and contributes nothing back while simultaneously having an orgasm on the false premise that they have the moral high ground."

"But—"

"No buts!" Raymond shot that detestable notion down before Dylan had the chance to hang himself with it. "Look me in the eyes Trudeau as I say this."

Naivety was still there. But Raymond didn't feel anger anymore, he felt envious. That this man was full of optimism and good will; why did he felt angry in the first place? Jealousy. Dylan still had his innocence. Innocence, not in intelligence, but of conscious. It was a salvation he could never return to. And it was evil—yes, evil—for him to entertain his inner bitterness, how he hated him for not having the burden as heavy as he did.

"You are a good man." Raymond decreed. A decree that would probably be true until the day Dylan, his friend, died. "More than I'll ever be."

Friend. Now that was a word he hadn't used in a long time. A long time.

Dylan sighed, lost in starry wonderland. "After this tournament, I'm not going to pick up another card ever again. I'm going to get my life together, and I can't do that while I'm addicted to the game. It doesn't matter if I win or lose, I need to change."

Raymond wished him well. Truly.

"Novak?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Thus, the hours passed. And they sat there, without ever speaking another word.

"Happy Birthday to you~!"

Raymond brazened into the lightless dining room with an ice-cream cake on his hands and thirty candles lighting his face. Topped with frozen strawberries, little melon balls, chocolate shavings, and many other things he could think of.

"Happy Birthday to you~!"

He walked towards the dinner table, where two women were patiently sitting and admiring his most talented singing, of course. The clock ticked towards midnight and faint chirping of the crickets outside. A bit annoying, but he had gotten used to falling asleep with them by now.

"Happy Birthday, dear Mother~!"

He laid the cake gently under his mother's gleaming face.

"Happy Birthday to you~!"

Raymond took a seat.

"You didn't think I actually forgot, did you, Mom?"

"Knowing you?" Reynalda snickered. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"Oh, ignore your sister, Raymond." She put her hands on his. "I know you never forget."

Raymond smiled. He relished at the gesture. It was almost as if she was still alive. But what was he talking about? She was alive. She was right here, wasn't she? All that stuff they've went through, her death, Reynalda's terminal illness, his disgraceful descent into violence. It was all a bad nightmare he had last night. "Make a wish."

She closed her eyes, held her hands together, and prayed to God above. He knew that because that was the same gesture she did when she prayed in church. But then again, it was pretty standard for any Christian. Maybe. He didn't go to church that often; only when his mother decided that she needed his help on something she promised to her pastor. Which, by the way, was still unfair as he should at least be consulted about it beforehand, instead of dumping it on him right in the moment.

Reynalda was lucky; she didn't have to do any of it as 'Girls aren't as strong as boys!'. Seriously, Mom needed to stop it with the excuses. He must be compensated with special privileges for this unfair treatment! He would go on strike if it continued!

Finally, Mom made up her mind and blew out the candles in one blow. Wow, pretty strong lungs for someone as old as her. Yeah, that was right, calling her old was his revenge. Not that he dared to say that aloud.

"Hooray!" Raymond clapped. Then he pulled out a plastic knife. "Now get rid of the candles; I'm hungry."

"What did you wish for?" Reynalda asked.

"Reynalda!" He scolded. "You know how it works! If she says it, then it won't come true!"

Reynalda's smile changed. It was not as jestful as she first made it out to be. But instead, it became serene. Limitless. Freed. As if all the burdens of the world was lifted from her shoulders. "Tell him our wish."

Raymond didn't see the underline tone she was trying to convey. Or, he refused to. Because it gave this eerily feeling that he wanted to run away from as soon as he felt it. The gloom darkened the room even further than what Raymond thought to be possible.

His mother held his hands tighter, preparing him for something inevitable. The very reality he was clinging onto, little by little, moment by moment, began to show its cracks.

"Mom?"

A single tear fell down her cheek. "I wish that you can move on without the both of us."

Raymond remained silent.

"Raymond, my son, you're going to help so many people. But not when we're tying you down."

"We?" No. He would not heed this lunacy. "What do you mean by 'we'?"

"Raymond." This time, it was Reynalda who spoke up. "It's too late for me."

"NO." Raymond slammed his open palm on the table. The sudden outburst struck his beloved family to their core; they've seen him angry before. And not the temper-tantrum a child would make when he didn't get what he wanted. It was the one they saw when some nutjob thought their home was easy pickings. The one when he bashed the thief's head repeatedly against the floor of their home until his skull bleed, akin to a castle wall that could no longer withstand the mighty siege of its furious enemy.

But who was he kidding? Deep down instead, there was a part of him that was like the child he railed against. "I already have failed Mom; I'm not going to let you die too!"

Reynalda sighed. Her head hung and she was summoning every bit of her strength to hold back the waters. She took at him not as that fun and caring sister he knew for his whole life. No, she looked at him with such intensity that he felt the need to back away. Rare for her to display such vigor, such emotion. "Raymond. Right now, I'm in a coma. The fact I can talk to you this way just shows how close to death I am."

Raymond didn't say anything.

"Raymond," She came towards him, kneeling at his lap, begging him to listen to her as she looked up to her own brother. "I've seen the grand plan, so has Mom! I know you're confused and upset, but in time, you will see what we have seen!"

Raymond scoffed. "This is just some sick joke. A dream." Raymond stood up. His feet locked firmly to the floor, which would take a bulldozer to force him to move. "I will save you."

Reynalda's eyes fell downcast. "You can still save me, Raymond. But…"

"But what?" Raymond sneered.

Reynalda fell silent. Raymond gave her a few minutes but that didn't change what they were both thinking. They both knew that she didn't want to die. She was too young, too much potential not realized to die. It wasn't him just thinking that, she herself expressed countless times her desired future with him. How she wanted to spend her life studying the great beyond of the skies, to have her spirit lifted by the mysteries of the cosmos. And maybe, just maybe, if she was good enough, she may be renowned throughout the future years shall see.

Emboldened by that fact, Raymond took charge. "But what, Reynalda?"

"Bu—but…" She was stuttering, but she pressed on. "Maybe… it's better… you don't."

"TAKE THAT BACK!" How dare she say that!? How dare she abandon all hope!? HOW DARE SHE THINK HE WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO SAVE HER!? HOW DARE SHE THINK THAT HE SHOULDN'T!? "TAKE THAT FUCKING BACK!"

"Raymond!" Their mother stepped in between them. The way she stood, acting as a shield for her daughter. The way she looked at him, as he was the menace who needed to be stopped.

And… and she would be right. Look at Reynalda! She's scared! Of him! Her own brother… Raymond didn't realize how tight his fists were until the thought entered his mind. He also didn't know how deep the cuts were until he let go.

He would be a threat to the table, sure. A threat to the wooden wall, the China plates, and… the vase.

It was the porcelain painted with blue flowers and olive branches. His mother's vase… the one he earned by the sweat of his brow.

And to think, he could've just knocked it off the shelf like it was a worthless item to relieve his stress. Not could've: almost.

Destroying that would be to hit his mother or his sister, something that had less of a chance than Hell freezing over. How would he be able to look at himself in the mirror for doing that?

"Raymond…" His mother laid her hands on his shoulder. "We wish that you will be someone we never had the chance to be."

Raymond surrendered to her.

"We wish you to be admirable." She began holding back her tears. "When you breathe your last breath and die at a good old age, an old man and full of years, we want to see you again."

"I want to see you again." She cried tears of joy. Joy, at the things that are yet to come, and may never come. Why did she have so much faith in a wretch like him? Mother or not, she must recognize how screwed-up he was. Could he even live up to her dreams? "And when we do, tell us all about your life, what you did, who you married, how were the children you raised! I want to hear it from your own mouth!"

Then, she caressed his face, adoring him one last time. This was the face she watched for more than a decade. The face she had to clean whenever he made a mess of himself, the face she feed with her chicken pot pie, the face she should've seen the day she died…

"Goodbye Raymond." She smiled before she started fading away.

"Wait…" Raymond pleaded. He tried reaching for her, making her stay a little while longer; he didn't even say sorry yet! She couldn't go! "Wait!"

But it was no use. He lost her for the second time. It was just him and Reynalda now.

"Raymond…" Reynalda said. "I wish that you find it in your heart to forgive."

No…

"Whether it be Dad, yourself, or whomever else, I don't want you to live unfulfilled."

Please don't leave too…

"Forgive me, Raymond."

With those final words, she too faded from his vision. She was perhaps the only person left to keep the light shining, as when she left, the pitch-black darkness settled in. He was essentially blind, couldn't tell if he had his eyes open or shut.

Then he felt something. Something above him, slowly descending upon him. A living being, whose shape he could not distinguish. It felt like a messenger.

"NO!" Raymond didn't want to hear anything right now. But the thing just wouldn't leave him alone. It grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. Raymond considered this an attack, so he raised his fist and dealt the return blow.

"ARGH!" Dylan screamed in pain. "GOD DAMN!"

The first thing Raymond felt was his knuckles striking against a human head. It was a weak strike, since he hadn't fully awakened yet and his strength was still asleep, but it was still strong enough to knock Dylan off his feet.

"I was going to wake you up! Why did you punch me!?"

"Oh shit," Raymond, after a couple seconds of comprehending what he just did, shot out of his bed and came to his aid. "I am so sorry, Trudeau, I didn't know it was you."

It was only then that kicked in the fact that it was already morning. The curtains were of an orange glow to the morning light, with a ray of sunrise peeking through the crack in the middle. He reaches his hand out to the curtain, pondering whether he should close it so they both could get more sleep or open it completely since they were already awake and probably wouldn't have any more time to sleep. Then again, the curtains weren't doing that great of a job as how the light poured through every open space between fibres. That amount itself was enough to feel like the sun was flooding the room, saturating the colors.

"What kind of a nightmare were you having to make you punch like that?" Dylan winced, covering his forehead in pain. There might be even a slight bruise developing.

Yes. It was just a nightmare, by the way; nothing to concern himself too much with.

Raymond tried to removed Dylan's hands and see if there was any sort of bruise, but Dylan just slapped it off and rushed to his pile of clothes on the chair. "Forget it, we're running late anyway!"

Dylan threw a loaf of bread with tuna stuffed inside right at Raymond's face. "Let's go!"

"The fact I can talk to you this way just shows how close to death I am."

That sentence haunted him from morning since.

It was a weird dream. It should be a weird dream, and nothing more. But Raymond couldn't help but feel it was something more, something transcendent had interfered.

Maybe. Just maybe.

But it was not. If that was indeed the case, then what she said was as good as true.

"Welcome to the second day of the Yu-Gi-Oh tag team tournament, Duelist Kingdom!" The announcement echoed far and wide. The whole stadium was roaring with that echo; only a deaf man couldn't hear it. Raymond knew that because they were at the edge of it, far away from where they were supposed to be. They weren't necessarily late, but they had planned to come much earlier just to avoid the inevitable crowd of people pushing against each other.

The marble-plated floor had the manners to be silent, unlike the wooden floor within Raymond's own house. Yes, he still had a house; the man he once called father at least didn't take away everything. He himself had to learn how to maintain it the best he could. It'd never be as good as it once was, but a house nevertheless. Cold air blast against his sweaty clothes that had spent a long time with only an open window back at Dylan's hotel.

Dylan patted on his shoulder and leaned in, reminding him of his presence.

"You sure you're alright?" Dylan shot him a curious look. Raymond looked to him like he hadn't slept on the right side of the pillow, with his eyes downcast all day. And his eyes, so focused on whatever they happened to fall upon. An archer's eyes compared could simultaneously be greater and lesser than the pure focus of his.

"How about you stop staring at that security and come with me?" Dylan suggested. "Seriously, I think you're creeping him out."

There was a man there? Now that Dylan mentioned it, he realized he had been staring at someone this whole time. Which shouldn't be the case since he was nothing to look at. Raymond nodded, agreeing to Dylan's advice as he quickly charged after him, right to the heart of the crowd. Raymond picked up his pace, not wanting to lose Dylan in the clutters of people pushing against the two.

"Novak! I think I found our entrance!" He raised his voice. And indeed he did, pointing at a door with a sign labeled: 'Participants only'. The guards pushed the crowd back as the two entered through the VIP entrance. Once they were in, the atmosphere got a whole lot better. No accidental touchings, no invasion of personal space, no smell of bad hygiene. Seriously, the hygiene, they must make a rule about that. How many times had he mentally and verbally complained about it?

"Shit! It's almost starting!" Dylan lead him upstairs, with another crowd of people pushing each other out of line as Raymond looked down from the interior balcony. There were well-dressed security everywhere he looked; they left their right hand patted over their holstered gun.

"Trudeau," Raymond called out. "Why is there armed security for a card game?"

Dylan turned to him and shrugged, but still walking to a door with two security standing at the end of the hall. "Maybe it's because there's three million dollars on the line and we don't know who's going to lose their mind if they lose."

True. The day before yesterday, there already was almost a fight that broke out because of Travis, who is said to be the luckiest man on to play the game.

He follows Dylan through the door, finding an enormous black room, with a large white area of space at the center. With rows and rows of cushioned seats, at a moving upwards, to maximize viewing per seat. The exits are to the left and right at the very bottom step, or maybe a way to the back. He also finds himself on the few balconies in this place.

"I think this is where we wait." There's no one else up here except the two of them. Was this really it? Did they take a wrong turn and ended up somewhere else or were they just early relative to the other contestants? It seemed that Raymond was the only one concerned as Dylan grabbed a chair and made himself at home.

"Why do we even wait?" Raymond asked.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot, you're new to tournaments." Dylan said. "Every tournament, Konami always likes to do a voice actor duel before the semi-finals begin."

"Voice actor duel?"

"You know how Dan Green voices Yugi in the dub? And Eric Stuart as Kaiba? They'll have voice actors play those characters live on stage, with a scripted duel to entertain the audience, you know, for nostalgia purposes." Dylan then chuckled to himself. "Do you know who they brought in last year?"

"No, who?"

"Scud!"

Raymond stared at Dylan blankly. "Who?"

"Scud." Dylan got visibly irritated by the mere utterance of the name. Sarcastically. Sarcastic irritation. "This dude, this son of a bitch, whose whole purpose in the story, is to literally be obliterated by Aigami's magical Rubik's Cube and doesn't even duel before being obliterated."

Okay. That would require Raymond to know who this Aigami character is in the first place.

"I am not joking," Dylan continued. "Scud somehow got in before freaking Alexis, Duke 'I'm bringing sexy back' Devlin, Bruno, and the rest of the giant list of characters more relevant than him. And worse of all, they skipped my girl Blair! And even worse than that, MY BOY THE CHAZZ!"

"So, who's going to be in the script duel this year?" Raymond asked, for conversation sake. He highly doubt that it'd be any character he would recognize, just as he didn't recognize the name of Aigami and Scud.

"This year should be good though." Dylan clapped his hands together and started rubbing them. "It's Zane Truesdale versus Kite Tenjo."

…

Cyber Dragons versus Galaxy-Eyes.

"Kind of coincidental, isn't it?"

Wasn't Raymond's head bashed enough?

Suddenly, the stadium went pitch black. Raymond could hear the mumbles in the audience, full of questions everywhere. Raymond turned his head to test his senses, but the line of left and right blurred, not certain where is where. And then shone a single spotlight, with a well-dressed man standing in it.

"Attention duelists! I hope you're all having a good time today!" He yelled to the microphone. "Welcome back to the final rounds between the four remaining finalists in the Day two of the Yu-Gi-Oh TCG exclusive Duelist Kingdom Tournament held right here in the Big Apple!"

The crowd started to cheer in unison, loud and proudly. Dylan sure jumped at the sound, not prepared for this much excitement for just a card game. Raymond took a second look, this time more closely. Now there's more than hundreds in this stadium, multiplying every five minutes; certainly much more than the first time he looked around.

"I hope everyone had the chance to enjoy themselves this weekend! You know, before we all have to return to our bosses." he continued; some of the crowd laughed it off, the others gave him a slight chuckle. He looked behind them, nodding at a some of the staff in the shadows and then turn back to his audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, I think you've all wait long enough as it is already, so let's get on with this!" He pulled out a card from his suit. "The first semi-final match will be…"

Raymond and Dylan leaned in closer, despite that they could hear just fine. Instinctual habit, nothing more.

"Raymond Novak against Travis Eldon Lawrence!"

The audience clapped for a short while as expected, as a slight dread overwhelmed Raymond for a time.

Him? Against Travis? Again? After what happened yesterday? Did his chances of beating Travis even improved? All Raymond between that time and now was walking, watching the stars, then sleeping. He made no improvements on his deck whatsoever. Then again, he couldn't afford to. What difference would it have made anyway? He had no time to practice and experiment different combinations or strategies.

He knew he had to beat Travis; this whole journey would be one cruel joke if he couldn't. But to actually go through with it, was entirely different. It felt like a level in a game. The player was destined to clear the level, the game wouldn't progress otherwise. The skill of the player, however, had nothing to do with destiny. It was the best way he could describe the sensation.

"And our last match-up will be Dylan Trudeau against Alec McGregor!" The announcer resumed again with excitement in his tone. "But before we get started, we have a special treat for you all! This year, for our annual tradition…"

"Shame." An accent voice came behind Raymond and Dylan, surprising them both. The announcer's voice faded in the background. "I was hoping to duel Dylan-boy first."

"Travis." Dylan greeted. Of course, he couldn't be any less happier to see him.

"And Mister Novak!" Travis opened his arms up, but neither of them went for a hug. Jolly and without a care in the world. Why would he? As far as he was concerned, he was going to win this thing. And he stank of the other extreme, of cologne and perfume masking the unmistakable hideousness coming from his soul. Quite an aroma strategy against the weak-willed and easily swayed.

"It's good to see you again." Raymond offered up a handshake, paying Travis's due respect. However Raymond thought of him, Travis still showed mercy yesterday.

"Indeed Mister Novak." Travis smiled and accepted the handshake firmly. Firmly, as in trying to squeeze as hard as possible, but still losing to Raymond.

"Wow!" Travis remarked to Dylan. "You definitely won't want to pick a fight with this guy."

"Okay." Dylan simply said. He didn't want to be a part of the conversation right now.

"I sure hope you have improved since last time, Mister Novak. I'll be expecting more of a challenge this time, and I won't be as forgiving."

"I sure do hope." Raymond have a polite smile. "I sure do hope…"

"Well," Travis coughed out. They all knew that there wasn't much else to talk about; the most likely topic that would keep the conversation alive was to talk about the weather. Nobody was going to talk about the weather. "May the best man win."

"Indeed." Raymond responded. And with that came the end of their conversation. Travis turned around and whistled as he walked away.

Dylan sighed finally when Travis left the two of them alone in the dark balcony when he shut the door behind him on his way out. Dylan closed his eyes, taking in some deep breaths as he probably conjured an imagination in his mind, while the air vent blew bent above him. Raymond could tell the signs of nervousness anywhere; Dylan wasn't really a pro at hiding it.

"Nervous?" Raymond asked.

"Yeah…" Dylan breathed out. "You'd probably would lose against Travis, which means I would have to face him again in the finals."

"Wow," Raymond chuckled, folding his arms. "Thanks for the confidence, Trudeau."

Dylan was backpedaling it still, as Raymond could tell what kind of humiliation Dylan would feel for him to be defeated by Travis again. He won the last tournament and the tournament before that.

As far as he knew, Dylan was always second best compared to Travis.

"But…" Dylan reached into his leather jacket's inner pocket and pulled out a single card. "Perhaps this card might give you a fighting chance."

Raymond reached out and took the card. He asked no questions; he just took whatever advantage he could over Travis, and if successful, eventually Dylan. As he continued to read the card, he noticed the particular set of card numbers are located immediately underneath the right-hand side of the card's image. It wasn't any regular combination of letters and numbers, it was specifically a YCSW: 'Yu-Gi-Oh! Championship Series Worlds'.

This… this was a prize card. A one of a kind.

"I wasn't planning on giving it to you since we both knew that we would most likely face off against each other, but… I changed my mind."

"Trudeau…" Raymond was almost speechless. "Wh-why are you…?"

"You can keep that card," Dylan interrupted, before Raymond could protest. "Heck, you can keep every other cards I gave you; they're all yours now."

"What?" Raymond remarked in a half-hearted surprise. Could he really say he absolutely didn't see this coming?

"But only if you do this one thing." Dylan smiled. Raymond was all ears. "Kick Travis's ass for me."

Ah… so this was a bounty. Truly, the power of hatred knew no bounds, cold, and could last forever. If Raymond was some regular youngster with nothing but stupid vanity in his heart, yet desperately wanted to present himself wiser than his years, he would say that hatred would never amount to anything.

Luckily for Dylan, Raymond wasn't one.

Associating light with good and darkness with evil was a terrible analogy, as eventually all lights in the universe will die, leaving only darkness for the rest of time. That was only assuming that evil wasn't more powerful than good, other than that, then it'd be the perfect analogy.

Raymond saw a piece of himself in his friend. He nodded, with great camaraderie. "Believe me, Trudeau, I will try."

That was good enough for Dylan, his heart was filled.

"GALAXY-EYES! ATTACK HIS CYBER DRAGON!" The voice actor of Kite Tenjo shouted below as the crowd's too busy cheering and clapping their hands, drowning out the man's voice. It was more than a few laughs that was expected from the audience, every single one of them was fired up with enthusiasm and nostalgia, continuous clapping and obnoxious cheering.

Raymond watched on, as destiny played out its preview script in the battle between the two fictional puppets.

So, in light of of the reveal of the new Yu-Gi-Oh! series, lazily named "Yu-Gi-Oh! Sevens", and the reveal of Master Rule 5 (technically named Master Rule 4: April 1st revisions), this story will continue the format of pre-MR5 until it ends.

And Yu-Gi-Oh! Sevens? My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.

12/30/19