"H-ha ha ha ha! You can regret your foolishness in hell, Mahaado! I'll kill the priests one by one and take their millennium items. It's all going according to plan!
Mahaado's vision blurs, head pounding. His whole body aches, his insides burning as if with fire. The heka inside him sputters weakly. Mahaado is nearly at his limit. I…I can't die here! I can't let Bakura take the ring. I can't let this thief threaten Atem's safety. Mahaado wills himself up from shaking knees, as his Illusion Magician fades from existence.
"I won't let that happen…Bakura…There is one great spell that a spirit sorcerer can cast only once..I will give my life..to gain immortality and take you down!"
"What?!" Bakura cries, incredulous.
The ring begins moving wildly at its place on Mahaado's chest. Bakura stares, eyes wide. The ring stills just as suddenly, a single one of the pendant's prongs sticking straight up in the air. Closing his eyes, Mahaado whispers his final prayer, My soul is your eternal servant. In the next breath, the ring's pointed prong impales Mahaado, ripping the soft fabric of his shenti, tearing through his flesh and bone. The prong spins clockwise, digging itself deeper and deeper into Mahaado's chest cavity until its pointed end pierces his heart. Bakura's eyes widen and his body goes rigid in a mix of fear and confusion. After a moment, Mahaado staggers, coughing up blood. He takes a single step toward Bakura, his vision blurring, and collapses on his side. His headdress tumbles into the dark abyss below.
The poor fool, Bakura thinks, shaking his head. In the end, it was suicide.
"I tried to warn you, Mahaado." Bakura sneers as he watches Mahaado draw his last breath. "You were never a match for me or the ring, magician."
Bakura chuckles darkly to himself. "Well, all good things must come to an end. Time to claim my prize." Diabound retreats soundlessly into Bakura's soul as the thief steps towards the magician's lifeless body. Bakura places the edge of his foot under Mahaado's cheek, turning his face toward the ceiling. Absently, Bakura admires how the golden glint of the ring accentuates Mahaado's firm jaw line, casting a dark sheen on the silky strands of his hair. A hand darts out and seizes Bakura's ankle, the sudden movement causing him to lose his balance. He lands with an undignified smack on the cold, hard tomb floor.
With a grunt, Bakura raises himself up in time to witness Mahaado's body begin to twitch and seize and convulse. He watches as Mahaado's head tosses back and forth, the strands of his hair tangling beneath his neck. With his eyes squeezed shut, Mahaado tears at his clothes, his joints bending and snapping in inhuman ways, the sound of his crunching bones setting Bakura's teeth on edge. Bakura gulps and stiffens, transfixed by the sight. The moans that escape from Mahaado's lips turn Bakura's blood to fire. Mahaado's now-naked body continues to violently jerk and twist and writhe. Despite the fear pricking its way up his spine, all Bakura registers is a contorted vision of hardened muscles and inches of bare, bronze skin. Bakura's breath catches in his throat and nearly chokes him. He should run. He could always corner the magician later or better yet, he could go after a different millennium item entirely. Maybe Aknadin's eye?
No! Victory was within his grasp. All he had to do was snap the ring from the neck of Mahaado's dying corpse and make his escape. From there, he could continuing hunting the priests one by one and —
All the blood runs cold in Bakura's veins as Mahaado meets his eyes. He can't help but stare at the gaping hole in Mahaado's chest, littered with exposed tissue and torn flesh. The Millennium Ring hums against his chest, its spires wet with its master's blood. Mahaado cocks his head to the side, his lifeless eyes staring straight through Bakura's collected pretense. Mahaado moves wordlessly, jerking slowly forward a few steps. Bakura instinctively takes a step back then stiffens as he sees Mahaado's corpse rush at him at full speed. "Dia-" Before Bakura can call his shadow creature, Mahaado grabs his neck with surprising strength. Mahaado's fingers twitch as they extend and long fingernails dig themselves into Bakura's neck, drawing droplets of blood. The spines of the ring go into a frenzy and Mahaado can hear the spirits whispering in his head, demanding more blood, more carnage. Bakura feels his windpipe constricting and claws uselessly at Mahaado's cold hand. With his other hand, Mahaado's daggered nails pierce Bakura's stomach, his lifeless eyes watch impassively as Bakura's entrails tumble out onto the floor in a squishy, wet heap. Mahaado's hand twitches again and Bakura's body slumps to the floor, crumpled and broken before him.
With jerky motions, Mahaado leans over Bakura, his fingers gently tracing the edges of his torn flesh. Mahaado reaches for Bakura's hand, the stolen jewels of Akhnamkanen's funerary rings glinting in the shadows. Mahaado lifts Bakura's pinky finger, bending it backward further and further until it snaps. His tongue darts out, lapping at the blood. He brings the finger to his lips and sucks the gushing blood from the wound before crunching down on the finger, tearing at it with newly sharpened teeth. Smacking sounds fill the silent air of the tomb as Mahaado feasts on the lifeless corpse of his fallen adversary.
In the throes of satiation, Mahaado fails to hear the footsteps drawing closer behind him.
"Quickly, this way! He couldn't have gone too far."
The footsteps skid to a halt. The man turns to his female companion, placing a finger to his lips. Burning red eyes peer straight ahead. As his eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, Atem strains to make out the two figures in front of him. He sees the tall, tan body of a naked man on his hands and knees leaning over a wet pile of golden trinkets and… severed limbs? As he stares at the inches and inches of the man's exposed skin, Atem is seized with the familiar urge to reach out and grasp the silky brown strands of the taller man's hair between his fingers. He is shaken out of his trance as Mana grabs him roughly by the shoulders, the young apprentice trembling in a mixture of fear and desperation. "Bakura…he's-is he truly dead?!"
"Bakura…"? Atem gasps, peering closer at the tangle of limbs on the floor. He sees the unmistakable swatches of thief's red cloak, sees tufts of his spiky white hair littering the tomb floor. "B-But how? Just what on earth happened here?"
The taller man stills, straightening himself and sitting upright on his knees. A sound not unlike windchimes fills the air as the tall man turns towards the newcomers, the prongs of the Millennium Ring thrumming lighting on his chest. Mana shrieks, clutching at Atem's cloak. Atem's whole body goes still.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Atem calls out, "Mahaado!? It can't be…"
"My pharaoh, what's wrong?" the tall man says, rising to his feet. "It's me, Mahaado. I have vanquished Bakura, my king, just as I promised. He will threaten your kingdom no longer."
Atem stares wide-eyed at the dismembered corpse at his friend's feet.
"It can't be.." Mana shouts, shaking her head back and forth, incredulous. "Y-you ate him, master?!"
"Mana," Atem says, grabbing Mana by the shoulder. The frantic look in his eyes makes Mana sick with worry and fear. "It's not safe here. A demon has eaten Bakura and is now impersonating our beloved Mahaado. I need you to go to the palace and find the others. The real Mahaado may still be out there." Mana nods once, trying to steel herself. Atem places a light kiss on her forehead. "Go now, Mana. I'll be fine." With a final glance in his direction, Mana heads back down the corridor in search of the other priests.
"The real Mahaado?" The tall man echoes, frowning. "My pharaoh, don't you recognize me?"
"Foul demon," Atem answers, his voice as sharp as the edge of a blade. "How dare you utter his name! How dare you impersonate him! Enough of these games! Where is Mahaado? What have you done with him?"
Mahaado staggers forward, sick with frustration and pain. "Atem, please! Look at me…"
Mahaado drops his gaze as he feels his fingers begin to twitch of their own violation, his sharp fingernails morphing into frightening claws. His skin turns a pale, deathly gray. His hair lengthens, cascading down toward his waist, the once brown tresses darkening, a cascade of silky shadows. Mahaado stumbles and falls as his body begins to convulse once more. He lifts his head in time to see Atem's retreating back.
"Atem…don't leave! Wait..help me! Please, my king! Come back—!"
Mahaado jolts awake, heart pounding, his whole body rigid and sheened in sweat. His hands clench the sheets as he tries to slow his erratic breathing. His hands!
Mahaado tumbles out of bed, slipping and tripping his way through the sheets, knocking the Millennium Ring from its perch on his desk as he tears toward his room's only mirror. He stands before it, gazing up and down his form. Save for the frenzied look in his eyes, he is undeniably himself. Just a bad dream, then. With a ragged sigh, he backs away from the mirror. He rounds the corner of his bed, gingerly lifting the Millennium ring from the place it had fallen, slowly resting it back on his desk. He eases himself back down into his mattress, flings an arm over his face to cover his eyes.
"It's inevitable. Tomorrow I will face Bakura. And I must win, no matter the cost!"