Hello, reader! I welcome you back to this story that I nearly abandoned. At least one of you noticed that I deleted several chapters and took this story almost back to the beginning. I realized one reason I was tired of working on this story was that I didn't like the time frame I set up (the whole arc within two days), and so I have rewritten it to expand things a bit. The next few chapters will be very familiar because the beginning of the story is much the same, but the Earthbound Immortals have been removed to help focus things better. I appreciate all of you willing to stick with me as I improve this story and draw a bit more background and emotion into it.
Recap: Two years earlier, Bryan and Matt buried the nine known god cards to keep them hidden. Bryan retrieved Uria, Lord of Searing Flame, but all other gods disappeared from Duel Academy. Over the recent winter break, Bryan used Uria in a televised tournament in order to draw attention to it and get himself invited to Yasna, where a tournament of the gods would take place. Matt accompanied him with two unknown gods in his deck, hoping the two could collect and return all gods to Duel Academy for safekeeping.
Chapter 3: Proof of Divinity
"This must be the place," Bryan said. "The Yasna Airport, Hair Care, and Tire Center." He was simply mocking the facility by adding two unrelated businesses to the name, but he wasn't being unfair: With a single, short runway only capable of landing prop planes and closet-sized commercial jets, and a control tower built on top of an old windmill, the Yasna Airport was not well equipped or frequently used.
"I can't hear a thing you say bundled up like that." Matt, who wore a heavy coat, a headband, and thick gloves to combat the cold, had mocked Bryan through the whole flight for wearing a heavy coat, two scarves, a faceless ski mask, two pairs of gloves, thermal underwear, and electric socks. Bryan wore so many clothes the sound of his voice was absorbed almost the instant he began speaking.
The weather wasn't helpful, either. Wind with as much bite as a crocodile kicked up every few seconds and stabbed any exposed skin. The howl was intense, but not loud. Volume wasn't the strongest factor in the deafening wind, but rather the pain taking control of the entire nervous system and deadening the ears.
"We'd better take shelter quickly," Matt said as he and Bryan hurried into the airport lobby. The building was hardly warm enough to dwell long, but any time out of the wind was immense and immediate relief for both guys. They basked in the clear air for a few minutes while they checked their travel provisions again. "What's the name of the place we're staying?"
"Brantley Motel," Bryan read on the travel itinerary. "Four stars, from the sound of it."
"Maybe it won't be so bad," Matt said to counter Bryan's sarcasm. He gazed out across the snow-covered field at the small town. From his vantage point, he could only count twenty or so buildings, not counting the large castle behind the town itself. "Maybe we'll be staying in the castle."
"That doesn't sound like fun," Bryan replied. "Look at all the holes in the ceiling and all the collapsed walls along the exterior. You can't call that a castle so much as a pile of rubble in castle shape. It doesn't even have a second story to it."
"Don't be like that. I'll bet there're lots of stories to that castle. Probably used to be the home of a historical king or the site of a grand, celestial war." Matt smiled proudly at his ability to turn a phrase. "Let's go take a quick look through town and find this Brantley place."
"I am not sightseeing in weather like that," Bryan protested. He produced a map of the town he printed online. "We will use the map or ask directions." He looked to the janitor who was sweeping up just a few meters away. "Excuse me, sir. Can you tell us where we'll find the Brantley Motel?"
The janitor pointed to the door on the far side of the lobby. "Follow street around bend. Is at dead end." He spoke with a heavy Russian accent, thick and bold like someone accustomed to speaking louder than the cold.
"Is there only one building at the end of the street?"
The janitor seemed to ignore the question as he swept around the floor where Bryan was standing. "Population is thirty-six people. Thirty-two buildings constructed. You can't get that lost." He picked up speed to get away from the annoying American.
"It would have been easier to skip the attitude and just say 'yes, it's the only building on the street.'"
Matt put his hand on Bryan's shoulder and suggested, "Years living in this weather have probably not improved his disposition. But on the bright side, we're already in one building. Only thirty-one left to check. As long as we move quickly, I keep the chances of contracting hypothermia as low as forty percent."
Bryan grabbed his bag and yanked it off the floor almost violently. "You're a big help, you know that?" He pulled both scarves tight around his neck and face and headed for the door indicated by the janitor. Matt didn't take it personally; Bryan just really hated cold weather. He picked up his bag and towed close behind.
Walking through the tundra was about as easy as expected. Each step carried about half as far as usual. The snow forced the journey of a thousand feet to take forever. Never before had Bryan thought all that highly of tucking his pants into his socks—actually nylon extensions of his boots—but as he powered through snow and slush piled two feet high, not a single drop of moisture entered his waterproof boots through the ankle. He couldn't remember ever being so dry in the snow in his entire life.
The janitor's direction was accurate, but just as confusing in the end as Bryan predicted. The road ended in a cul-de-sac of three buildings, all of which were mostly identical and none of which resembled a motel. Bryan was too annoyed and unsurprised to say anything until Matt pointed out the mailbox in front of the center building. It had the name "Brantley" written across the side.
"Are you kidding me? The Brantley Motel is some guy's house?"
Bryan wasn't thrilled with the news.
The motel was a simple, two-story house owned by an old man and his wife. Brantley himself had a light complexion and was fairly heavyset—perhaps a layer of blubber grown for insulation. His was constantly a neutral expression and he showed zero interest in much of what Bryan and Matt had to say.
"Arrangements made by school," he reminded them. "Room upstairs on right, toilet on left. Irina makes lunch in twenty minutes."
"That sounds pretty simple," Bryan said. He rubbed his hands together and was pleased to find enough heat in the house that he could take off his gloves indoors. "So our rooms are upstairs. We'll have to head to the castle after lunch. Do we get keys for when we come back?"
"One room," Brantley said as he handed Bryan a single key. Something in his tone was insistent. Neither guy saw anything other than futility in arguing for another room. The house was small, anyway: one bedroom upstairs and one downstairs.
Bryan hummed. "Hmm. It seems like we'll rooming together once again. I guess we can always trade sleeping places between the bed and the chair."
"Chair no good."
"'Chair no good'?" Bryan repeated, unintentionally with the exact same inflection. "Why not?"
"Hypothermia. Heat lower at night. Wood frame too cold."
The way Brantley spoke without even looking at them was almost unnerving. To alleviate the awkward feeling, Matt projected cheer as he said, "That's no big problem. It'll be like camping together and sharing a sleeping bag in the winter. If it helps, pretend I'm Lucy." Quickly his tone and facial expression changed. "No, don't pretend I'm Lucy. That's a bad idea. I am definitely not Lucy. You understand? Pants on tonight."
"Dude, I'm so cold, I don't think I'll even take them off to pee."
Expression shifting back to fright, Matt turned to Brantley and asked, "How serious is the hypothermia induced by the chair?" Brantley wasn't amused in the least. "Yes, well. Perhaps we'd better just go unpack then. Lunch in twenty minutes? If it's as warm as the reception, the chair may not be the only source of hypothermia here."
"Why in the world would they hold this tournament thing inside a collapsed castle?" Though his moaning reeked of logic, the fact was Bryan was still just complaining the entire time. Even when their football team lost a playoff game because of a bogus penalty he never complained so much. He really couldn't handle the cold. The logic came from the idea that initiating a game of cards in a location over-exposed to precipitation was dumb. Thumbs stricken with frostbite would take an extra three minutes just to flip over a Trap card, and all the while, further frostbite would set in.
Matt was more taken with the architecture. It seemed Germanic in origin, possibly designed to be a fortress more than a castle. The foundation covered fifteen hundred square meters, more than half of which were covered with rubble and piles of snow. At its peak condition, the castle spire keep may have reached a hundred meters toward the sky. As it stood on this day, Matt estimated at least six floors had collapsed under the harsh weather.
"Look on the bright side," Matt told Bryan. "At least we have plenty of snow tracks to follow to our destination."
"It's not exactly the Kumite, is it?" Bryan commented dryly.
"I assume you are referring to the fact that the location of this secret gathering is not so well hidden. Most people don't know about the gathering being in Yasna, I'd suppose, plus only insanity could drive a person to endure the weather and terrain here. Then again, anyone who would seek all the god cards in a strange place completely unaware of what awaits him qualifies as insane."
"You are, of course, aware that applies to both of us."
"Who'd you think I was talking about?"
Watching the two guys approach, Jean-Paul Poirrot sat by the door to the castle keep, holding the interest of the Numbers guarding the keep with his constant grumbling about the banality of his designated task. Descended from French royalty and successful through his ranks, Jean-Paul was the type of man who viewed himself well above simple guard duty. What was the required IQ to ensure the only people who entered the castle were on the list? Did such a menial task really require the talents of the Jack of Spades?
"Sir," spoke one of the guards. "Two kids are heading this way now."
"Two?" he repeated pompously. "Only one person has yet to arrive. Do not let them past the courtyard."
As the guard placed his hand along the handle of his handgun and felt the grip in his palm, he asked, "Are you certain?"
"Of course. Only guests of the Club may enter. Anyone who would violate those rules will be killed." He chuckled to himself. "Actually, anyone who does follow the rules will still be killed." His expression hardened once more as he remembered that despite his rank as a Jack, he wasn't invited to participate, either. His entire role for this gathering was gatekeeper. After taking register of the final participant today, his role would end, for he lacked the god card necessary to invoke his participation.
Eight of Spades, the guard with the handgun, stepped outside the door to the keep and shouted at the approaching kids, "Stop! If you take a single step further, you will be shot." Jean-Paul waited to hear the gunshot. No one ever took the threat seriously, but they would learn.
For some reason, the gunshot never came. Eight stepped back inside. "Those two say they each have god cards with them."
"Why didn't you shoot them?"
"When I told them to stop, they stopped. I think they knew I was serious."
This news upset Jean-Paul. Whereas he rose to the rank of Jack by being wealthy and influential despite his small stature and aversion to direct violence, he enjoyed violence when dispensed on his behalf by others. Eight of Spades was a large man with little in brain power compensated by incredible accuracy. His only purpose was to shoot people. Refusal was akin to insubordination.
Holding his tongue to ensure he spoke only in line to avoid any incidents with the King, Jean-Paul said, "That's impossible. We already have nine participants. Only one other name is on the list. My understanding is that you will shoot him and offer his card to me that I may participate."
"Sorry, Jack. King said not to hurt anyone without a legitimate reason."
"Damn it! I am your superior! My word is law!" But despite the intensity of his cry, Eight of Spades was unfazed. Too dumb to understand, perhaps. Jean-Paul sat back in his chair. He stood no chance of physically changing his subordinate's mind, and his power had been sufficiently limited through this competition. Settling a bit, he allowed logic to resume. "According to the list, one of them should have Uria, Lord of Searing Flames. Ask them what other god they bring."
Eight stepped outside and resumed his conversation with the figuratively and literally frozen intruders. He returned a moment later to say, "They bring Spenta Mainyu."
The Frenchman scoffed. "No such card exists."
And yet, its name rang with another card he recently encountered—another he was certain was no god until the Ace of Spades convinced him of its power. Suppose Spenta Mainyu was on the same level as that other card. No one expected that card to make an appearance at this competition whereas people had seen the face of the boy with Uria. That may be the perfect opening to get the Jack of Spades his own invitation.
"Very well. They may enter." Eight stepped out again and invited the boys in, offering a hand to the bigger guy who seemed frozen in place. He must be the one with the unknown god. Could it be that powerful if the boy was so cold? Or maybe he didn't know how to utilize the card's power to his benefit. If Jean-Paul took the card into the competition and it turned out to be a dud, he could lose his rank—certainly his life. A safer route may be to test the card first.
Both of the boys brought youth and vigor with them, though neither had the raw good looks of a Frenchman. And clearly they suffered with adaptability, dressed as heavily as they were to deal with the cold weather. The smaller boy was unfamiliar. He was mistaken about the bigger one: He looked familiar as the boy who played Uria at the Duel Monsters Coliseum.
"You hold Uria?" Jean-Paul asked the bigger kid.
After making a series of noises intended to indicate cold, the big guy said, "Yep. Thanks for making us stand out there. I could really use Uria's fire about now."
Jean-Paul ignored him and turned his sights instead to the newcomer. "You must hold Spenta Mainyu."
"I do," the smaller boy said. "And I would just like to thank you for not having your rather big guard shoot me. It smells like a blizzard is brewing, and I doubt my body would ever be found out here."
"None of the others have been."
Both boys were stunned by his response. "Uh… Seriously?"
"For those who fully realize the impact of gathering so many god cards in one location, this location holds a treasure beyond all others. Try as they might, Eight never misses."
Threatening them had the exact effect Jean-Paul wanted: They were paralyzed with fear. At least until the smaller one said, "But he let us in, so you must have changed your mind. Do you already know about Spenta Mainyu?"
"I have not heard of it before today. You will show me now."
"Show you?"
"Yes. We will duel here. Consider this your entrance exam, with but a single rule: You must use your god card against me." The boy seemed shocked. "God cards are filled with the power of the Shadow Realm. Use your god and capture my soul."
The bigger boy took a step back, but the smaller one merely cocked an eyebrow. It felt like he wasn't taking Jean-Paul seriously, and he hated that. "If you lose the duel, Eight will shoot you and leave you out in the blizzard. If you are unable to summon your god card to defeat me, Eight will shoot you and leave you out in the blizzard. In other words, the only way for you to preserve your life now is to send me to the Shadow Realm!"
"I don't want to hurt you," the smaller boy said.
Jean-Paul pointed at Eight with an open palm. "Eight can shoot you now if you prefer."
"I didn't say I wouldn't duel. I just said I won't hurt you."
"Then you will die." Jean-Paul tossed the words out lightly, but his expression was stern. "You were not invited here. As I said, your only chance for survival is to send me to the Shadow Realm. That is the only way to stop me from giving Eight the order to kill you."
The smaller kid looked up at Eight and said, "You must be Eight. Clearly that's a nickname based on your good looks." That was hardly the rating the guard would obtain on an attractiveness scale and he knew it, but the comment made him grin anyway. "I still refuse to hurt you, Mr. French Clown Man, but I do not refuse your challenge. After all, I wasn't invited so I am willing to prove the reality of my god card if you so wish. I've never really tried bringing out its power in a tabletop duel, though. Do I just kind of picture it in my head as if we were playing with chess pieces?"
Jean-Paul already hated the kid, this time because he talked too much. But the kid made a good point. He couldn't gauge the power of a god if it never left the confines of the card, yet he couldn't claim credit for possessing the card if it was brought into the open for all participants to see. Eight and the other two guards were too dumb to understand such matters so they weren't a threat to Jean-Paul's authority. Fortunately, his company had designed a device useful for precisely this conundrum.
"We'll use this." He pulled a suitcase from under his desk and opened it, removing its contents and placing them outstretched along the desk. The object resembled a duel field with a glass cover. It wasn't much bigger than a chess board, but it was encased in glass with holes on either end for players to place and remove cards during the duel.
"Fascinating," the smaller kid said as he began to spin the board and examine the glass from all sides. "It looks like a simple board game except for the sneeze guard. Of course, it's no simple glass, is it? No. The refraction of light suggests a fundamental alteration in visibility, and the tiny lenses embedded at six points along the border suggest perhaps a miniaturized hologram projector. Am I right? This is Kaiba Corp.'s hologram technology scaled down to a portable size. It's no Duel Disk, of course, but it is no less impressive. Did you build this?"
So many things upset Jean-Paul about that monologue, but his frustration betrayed him as it hid behind his amazement. This kid was smart enough to realize the technology of this portable arena simply by looking? It took years for the Poirrot Gaming Division to alter the Kaiba Corp. technology enough to remove it from copyright and still provide the right effect. But true theft or not, he didn't appreciate the accusation from some random kid.
"Let's duel!" he snapped. He took out his deck and handed it the kid to shuffle. The kid shuffled his own cards quickly and then offered it to Jean-Paul. "Shuffle them yourself," he replied. "It will make no difference."
"That's true." The kid was cocky, to be sure. He finished shuffling Jean-Paul's deck and handed it back. "My name's Matthew Luther, by the way. I'm not sure I'd say it's been a pleasure to meet you what with all the threats to shoot me, but I'm always up for a duel."
"I do not care," Jean-Paul remarked as he drew his cards, quickly snatching the first turn of the duel. "You insulted my technology by suggesting I stole it from the Kaiba Corporation. I will return the favor by trouncing you."
"Have at it." Cocky, indeed.
This deck should settle his arrogance, Jean-Paul thought to himself. As soon as the duel began, he wanted to say as little as possible to avoid loosing any tells. "Pilgrim of the Ice Barrier (4/1500/1000)." As he slid the card into a monster groove under the glass, the lenses on the side of the box began to shine, sending lights bouncing around the glass until an image stood over the top of the card face: a man assuming a meditative position while a spiritual barrier deflected everything that neared him.
"Ice Barrier," Matt said without purpose. "That would certainly be helpful for us human people who still get affected by the cold weather. I'll counter your monster by summoning Jain, Lightsworn Paladin (4/1800/1200)." He slid his card onto the field and watched the appearance of a three-inch-tall warrior wearing a full suit of white armor and wielding a sword that, although short in length, was brilliant in luminance. "This should be a good time to attack." Jain (+2100) charged across the field, shield-first. When he met Jean-Paul's Pilgrim, he thrust the shield forward, disrupting the Pilgrim's meditation and leaving him open for Jain's sword to slash from shoulder to hip.
Although the attack drew blood, the yellow barrier remained, and the Pilgrim was overall unaffected.
"No destruction in battle?" Matt questioned. The setup of the duel briefcase did not promote researching card effects as easily as Kaiba Corp. technology did.
"Pilgrim of the Ice Barrier is not destroyed by monsters with 1900 points or more," Jean-Paul answered. He could answer simple questions without revealing his strategy. It was information the boy should already know anyway.
"Ah. So Jain's shield bash is what caused the attack to fail. If he didn't gain 300 points from being on the offensive, he may have destroyed your monster. Well, at least I still scratched your Life Points. Let's see where things go from there. And of course, Jain's effect takes two cards from the top of my deck and sends them to the Grave."
Matt 8000: Jean-Paul 8000 – 600 = 7400.
He suspects nothing, Jean-Paul thought. If this duel ends so simply, then his god is false. "I'll set a second monster and switch Pilgrim (1000) to defense mode." His meditative pilgrim maintained his closed-eyed position, but now he held his arms outstretched in front of his body in order to expand the reach of his barrier.
"A defensive strategy," Matt noted. He leaned back and asked, "Any insights, Bryan?"
The bigger of the two boys was in the back of the foyer chatting with Eight of Spades. He simply replied, "This guy can interlace his fingers while reaching over his shoulder with one arm and around his back with the other. You can't even bend that far!"
"Wonderful help. Nice to see the Ritalin is kicking in. I suppose I'll just summon Dark Grepher (4/1700/1600)." He placed on the field a man with skin as dark as midnight and eyes red like a demon's. He wielded a long sword of silver that dispelled the ice barrier and cut through the Pilgrim with a single, clean slice. "That's one detriment out of the way. Now Jain can attack your other card." Once more, the armored paladin thrust his shield forward to stun his opponent and flip face-up Reese the Ice Mistress (2/800/800), a woman in a powder-blue leotard who turned a chain gun on her attacker, rapidly firing ice shards at Jain to keep him at bay and intercept his barrage of sword slashes.
"Reese is not destroyed by monsters four stars or higher."
"Another stall card," Matt noted. As Jean-Paul worried that Matt may have seen through his strategy, he was pleased to hear his young opponent say, "This one will be much harder to get by. I'll set one card. And of course Jain pulls another two cards from the top of my deck. Now I suppose it is your turn."
Still holding his tongue, Jean-Paul simply placed another monster on the field. "Cryomancer of the Ice Barrier (2/1300/0)." This fighter showed as much bare skin as the other ice-trained monsters, but he was equipped with Nordic headgear and wielded a dagger that appeared to generate its own ice. He took one swipe with his frozen blade and sent a chill across the field, building a thin layer of frost on Matt's monsters. "Also, Prior of the Ice Barrier (2/1000/400)." This bearded man looked as if he understood the cold—its dangers and its effects. He was cloaked more heavily than Jean-Paul's other monsters, and he appeared uninterested in staying. He held a staff with a mirror on its head, steadying it above the Graveyard until the mirror reflected the image of Pilgrim of the Ice Barrier. Prior sacrificed himself in order to pull the meditative Pilgrim (1000) out of the Graveyard and back to the field in defense mode.
Jean-Paul was beginning to bubble under the surface. Between Jain and Grepher, it was obvious the kid had a varied strategy in his deck—at least so far as a twilight strategy was concerned. There was a simple cure for that—a single face down Trap.
"No guidance on that turn," Matt said as he noted the end of Jean-Paul's turn. He narrowed his eyes at Jean-Paul. "And you've practically stopped talking since the duel began. Why would you do that? Perhaps you're afraid you might have a tell that will give me a peek into your strategy, but that also presumes you have a strategy that can easily be disrupted once it's revealed."
Gritting his teeth and drawing on ire stemming from frustration, Jean-Paul retorted, "I choose not to speak because the duel is worth more attention. My general disposition is to withhold conversation unless necessary to benefit me in some way."
"If that were true, I couldn't have baited you so easily just now." Now the boy was being impudent! But Jean-Paul had the wherewithal to maintain his composure and not let the boy know he was being so annoying. "Very well. I'll summon Card Trooper (3/400/400). He's the right level to exact some damage on your cards." Matt's machine had a tank-like base connected by a steel spine to a barrel chest. From there, two prehensile cables extended to hands like small cannons. Its head was a glass bubble protecting a variety of electronic sensors and two lit headlights as eyes.
Jean-Paul knew that card. Everyone did. This was the perfect chance to break his opponent's spirit.
"I'll send three cards from my deck to the Graveyard to increase Card Trooper's (+1900) attack by 500 per card. And while we're here, why not attack?"
"One very good reason," Jean-Paul replied, almost sputtering in his attempt to suppress a grin. "Gozen Match." When his Trap rose from the ground, a light mist began to cover his side of the field. "From now on, each of us can only control monsters of a single element. I choose water."
"Only a single element," Matt noted. "All three of my monsters are different attributes, meaning I'll lose two monsters no matter what I choose. You do make it difficult. I will hold to earth." On Matt's side of the field, the ground rumbled as pillars of rock jutted upward toward the sky. But amidst the rumbling, a fissure crossed the field and opened widely enough to swallow Jain and Grepher.
"Interesting choice to maintain Card Trooper," Jean-Paul suggested.
"Not really. He's the only monster I had with the ability to attack. After all, your Cryomancer prevents any attacks from level-four monsters when joined by another Ice Barrier like Pilgrim. In fact, although the change of armies triggers a Replay, I still plan to attack Cryomancer (1300)." Within the changed terrain, Card Trooper dropped into the fissure and made steady, silent progress to where Cryomancer waited within the mist. Card Trooper sprung suddenly and fired with both cannons, piercing Cryomancer straight through and drawing him down into the Grave.
Matt 8000: Jean-Paul 7400 – 600 = 6800.
With Card Trooper spoiling the stall portion of his strategy, Jean-Paul chose to step up his plan by a single turn. "I will now summon General Grunard of the Ice Barrier (8/2800/1000)." Reese and Pilgrim left the field in a frosty haze, but the swirl of ice became armor on the body of a man as big as a tree. By raising a single arm, he gathered all the moisture from his immediate surroundings in his palm and fired a spear of ice through the barrel chest of Card Trooper. The machine stood stunned, but General Grunard was not finished: Seven more ice spears formed in the sky and skewered the machine like a magician's wicker basket.
"That attack was violent, thorough, and tremendously overrated for a game played by children. I enjoyed it," Matt commented. Jean-Paul hadn't quite settled on whether Matt was a genius or an idiot.
"That General is tough. For now, I'll play Solar Recharge. By discarding a Lightsworn monster from my hand, I can draw two cards." A flash of light smothered the field, bright enough to light the day, but unable to blind the players because of the glass case. "Of course, I have to send two other cards from my deck to the Graveyard, but such is the price. One monster in defense mode should help."
A defensive monster is why I wanted to wait to bring out Grunard, Jean-Paul thought, but it changes little.
"Deep Sea Diva (2/200/400)." A mermaid monster swam onto the field through the mist in the air. Her voice carried well as she sang into the sky, vibrating the ice crystals in the air as a bulky fish-man swam through and joined her, entranced by her voice. "Her effect Special Summons the Spined Gillman (3/+1700/0)." The fish-man's very presence seemed to increase the level of moisture in the air, making the field more liquid and improving the fluidity of its own movements. "I'll risk having Grunard attack your monster."
"You see it as a risk, do you?" Matt replied. Jean-Paul gasped as he worried about what secrets he may have divulged. Once again, Grunard caused a rain of ice spears to penetrate the body of Lumina, Lightsworn Summoner (3/1000/1000). "Your gamble paid off this time."
Jean-Paul replied with a scornful growl, sending Gillman and Diva (+600) to attack Matt's wide-open field.
The boy watched as the two monsters struck a small avatar at the back of the field behind where his monsters and Spells would go. "Would you look at that? This board even has a physical manifestation of my Life Points. Is that meant to represent me? Oh, that is quite clever. And there's one for you, too!"
"Settle down. I have the lead now. I'll set one card. Take your turn."
Matt 8000 – 1700 – 600 = 5700: Jean-Paul 6800.
"The wonderful thing about this game, apart from the avatars, is how quickly the tables can turn," Matt said with soft, drawn-out words. He almost intended to sound creepy. "With my field currently devoid of monsters, the effect of Gozen Match will reset." The earthen pillars on his field crumbled as darkness crept in. "I will activate the magic of Monster Reborn to summon Darklord Superbia (8/2900/2400)." A blue light sparkled deep within the shadows, marking the rise of a fallen angel whose sin altered its form until it resembled a dark goblet with crimson wings.
"Darklords," Jean-Paul uttered with surprise. Running a deck of such high-level cards… Was it possible to fit a god card into such a deck, or was this kid trying to act as though his fallen angels carried the same power with them?
"When Superbia is summoned from the Graveyard, I can also summon Darklord Edeh Arae…" Matt's voice trailed off as he looked upon the old man standing in front of his monster, holding up a single hand—a simple act that jolted Monster Reborn in place and caused the image of Superbia to flicker and fade.
"Pride is a sin," Jean-Paul warned eerily as his Solemn Warning Trap consumed 2000 of his Life Points and negated Monster Reborn's effect.
"So it is, and it seems to have a broad definition. If Superbia and Edeh Arae are out of my reach, I will set a monster and one additional support card."
Matt 5700: Jean-Paul 6800 – 2000 = 4800.
"That withdrawn maneuver is proof you lack the power of a god." Matt cocked an eyebrow as Jean-Paul slid another monster inside the case. She was an attractive woman wearing a tight corset and wielding two rotating snowflakes. "Dance Princess of the Ice Barrier (4/1700/900) is more powerful than any of the monsters you've played. When I show you an Ice Barrier monster—" He revealed Defender of the Ice Barrier. "—she sends a Spell or Trap on your field back to your hand." He pointed out the most recent card Matt set, figuring the other was no threat if Matt set it so long ago without activating it. Dance Princess began leaping and spinning around the field, her snowflake shields spinning the entire time. She slid close to Matt directly and pointed toward his card, sending it away from the field.
"That is unfortunate."
"For you, perhaps. As powerful as Dance Princess is, General Grunard is truly more powerful: He gives me the ability to summon an extra Ice Barrier monster during this turn. I will now summon Defender of the Ice Barrier (3/200/1600)." To fill his field completely, he summoned a golden fox monster, armored by steel and ice. "Are you ready for the finale?"
"Is this when you finally enact your one-turn-kill strategy?"
Jean-Paul nearly choked on his tongue. How could this boy possibly know I have a one-turn strategy prepared?
"I'm part of the OTK Duel Academy chapter, a group of students who study one-turn-kill strategies outside of classroom hours. I recognized your strategy from the moment you set up multiple stall cards in sequence."
Disbelieving that his strategy could be predicted so readily, Jean-Paul slammed his fist on the table, unaware he might alert the people he had hoped to remain secret from. "Knowing my strategy doesn't change anything. It is still a one-turn strategy, and every piece is in place already. Deep Sea Diva (2) and Spined Gillman (3) will tune to form the Synchro monster Sea Dragon Lord Gishilnodon (5/2300/1800)." Diva's singing voice resonated with the ice crystals and connected her to Gillman, first spiritually and then physically, transforming them both into the same ice crystals. From the moisture in the air emerged the body of a heavyset dragon with a serpentine neck and a torso that moved like liquid. As the dragon passed over the field, it absorbed the ice crystals in the air and assumed the hardened body of ice.
"That was a long animation," Matt noted. "There's more?"
"Of course. As long as there is a card on your field, my turn is not finished! Dance Princess and Defender of the Ice Barrier will now tune together to summon Gungnir, Dragon of the Ice Barrier (7/2500/1700)." Spinning her snowflake shields the entire time, Dance Princess began gyrating until she caused the air to resonate with Defender's icy armor. Her snowflakes and his armor spread across their merged spirits, forming the appearance of an armored dragon encased entirely in flexible ice. And all the residual ice crystals in the air merged with the body of Gishilnodon (+3000), granting the icy serpent some of the power left behind by the fox. Matt faced down three powerhouse monsters with only one monster and one hidden card to defend him.
Suddenly a card appeared in the air in front of Gungnir. The icy dragon snapped it up in a single gulp and transformed its energy into a sheer spray of frost that slammed Matt's monster and froze it solid. Swinging the mace-like tip of its heavy tail, Gungnir smashed Matt's monster, shattering the monster instantly. "Gungnir can destroy cards on your field simply by discarding… up to two cards." The icy dragon swallowed another card and sprayed Matt's final card—a card he set on his second turn.
When the card froze over, a rhythmic whistle haunted the air. "Sorry to say, before you destroy my card, I choose to wield its effect. You've heard of the Flute of Summoning Kuriboh, haven't you?" Following the haunting melody swelling on Matt's side of the field came a small, winged quadruped with few visible features beneath its layers of fur. "Of the cards it can summon to my defense, I've chosen Winged Kuriboh (1/300/200)."
Jean-Paul was aghast with the play. More than three turns ago, this little man with the annoying ramble prepared a defense for the OTK strategy that would end the duel against all other opponents. It didn't matter what he did next or in what sequence: As soon as Winged Kuriboh went to the Graveyard, Matt's entire field would be protected from all damage. Settling for a move that had to happen, he signaled for a rain of ice spears to skewer the fluffy monster.
"The play was impressive," Jean-Paul admitted in a huff, "but you still fail to prove the power of a god."
Matt held perfectly still for a moment, leaning back in the relaxed position he held during the entire duel so far. Very dramatically he leaned forward and put on a scowl. "You want the power of a god? Are you certain?"
With a scoff, Jean-Paul said, "That was the purpose of this duel."
"No take backs," Matt warned him.
"Try me."
Matt grinned. "Alright then. I'll show you a god."
Though he asked for it, Jean-Paul felt the intensity of Matt's words. The air itself seemed to change as Matt reached for his deck. As he lifted the top card, the air shifted again—almost skyrocketing the temperature ever so briefly. Was that from the card he just drew?
He placed down that same card. "Because I have a lot of monsters in my Graveyard, I can summon Sephylon, the Ultimate Timelord (10/4000/4000) without Tributes." Ten bright lights appeared on the field in the shape of a prismatic crystal, dimming to show a body resembling a game piece with wings formed from the merged energy of the monster's own light. On its chest was a reflective plate with a clouded image of an elderly man. "The card looks so much nicer in hologram form," Matt added with a slight grin.
"That card isn't a god!" Jean-Paul exclaimed. What was that sensation just then if it wasn't a god card Matt just drew?
"Are you sure? You see what he can do, right?" The light from Sephylon's wings became great a second time. A heavy, purple haze emerged from the light, forming a new body similar to Sephylon's. The arms were like pieces of pipe attached to enormous claws. Its chest was purple and reflective, appearing to show the image of a human face. "Once per turn, Sephylon summons a companion: This time, it's Metaion, the Timelord (10/+4000/0)."
Jean-Paul scoffed. "The card is powerful, yes, but definitely not a god. I've seen other copies of it before. And more importantly, the card you drew—"
"Take a look at this card instead." As suddenly as he summoned them both, Matt placed a card on the field and then discarded both of his Timelords as Tributes. From the light of the two monsters appeared a transparent being—almost ghostlike. It took the form of a dark-haired woman no bigger or taller than the average humanoid monster card, adorned with a single, blue robe draped over her shoulders and a simple, golden tiara that shone as a halo on her skin. "I call this one Spenta Mainyu (10/2400/4000)."
Jean-Paul was captivated by the woman on the field. She held more allure than any human woman he'd ever met, yet there was something even more mysterious about her. Poirrot Gaming Division developed the duel board they were using and uploaded the holographic information for all the cards to be played. Spenta Mainyu's information was never uploaded, and yet there she was, standing before him.
"She's gorgeous, isn't she?" Matt asked after a moment of watching Jean-Paul with amusement. "If it helps, I'll have her attack." Spenta Mainyu crossed her hands over her chest and her tiara shimmered. Suddenly a man as tall as the entire duel case appeared from her shadow. He wore the same robe as the woman who summoned him, but his shoulders, legs, and arms were guarded by golden armor and his face was obscured by his hood. White wings spread wide behind him as he leapt past Spenta Mainyu and slammed directly into the holographic image of Jean-Paul's Life Points before fading away, leaving the woman on the field alone.
"You like that? That's the manifestation of Spenta Mainyu's truth. And truth cuts straight through any defense."
Matt 5700: Jean-Paul 4800 – 2400 = 2400.
It took Jean-Paul almost a minute to recover from the shock. All the evidence suggested this little woman had within her the same power as a behemoth like Obelisk the Tormentor, yet she was truly an unimposing figure, save her captivating effect on her opponent.
"How did you obtain such a majestic god card?"
"From an equally majestic human," Matt replied. "You should have seen the effect she and her card each had on Bryan over there. I thought his head might explode. He actually went for two weeks without flirting with another woman."
Steeling his nerves and trying to find fault with the divine woman, Jean Paul drew from his deck. "We'll test her true prowess as a god right now! If she truly holds the power of a god, then she will survive this attack from Gungnir!" His ice-coated dragon swallowed a card from his hand, drawing in its magical powers and transformed it into a sheer spray of frost.
But Spenta Mainyu stood nonchalantly, holding her alluring smirk as the frost separated on both sides of her body. The holographic dummy that represented Matt's Life Points stood in front of her, absorbing the damage and protecting her. "Spenta Mainyu is not immune to destruction," Matt explained, "but I'm willing to use My Body as a Shield." Gungnir was too competitive to fail, and he poured his entire essence into the assault. Matt's Life Points were unyielding, however, and Gungnir destroyed himself in the effort. Matt protected his monster and destroyed the enemy in exchange for 1500 of his own Life Points.
"Now your defense of her is gone. Can she survive an attack from General Grunard (2800)?"
Ice spears began to appear in the sky, but a sudden appearance of a samurai spirit interfered; he swiped across the sky with a wakizashi and dispersed the ice crystals, negating Grunard's attack.
"Yes, with the help of Necro Gardna. I remove him from the Graveyard and he negates your attack."
Now Jean-Paul was out of options. Destruction failed through both effects and attacks. His only option was the Mirror Force card he just drew. He set the card and ended his turn, hoping to destroy the goddess on the next turn.
Matt 5700 – 1500 = 4200: Jean-Paul 2400.
Matt looked up from his deck without raising his head. "You are not aware of this yet, but I need no card to end this duel." He carelessly drew his card and put it down on the table without even lifting it far enough to identify it. "When Spenta Mainyu attacks, Spells and Traps cannot be activated in reply. And don't forget, she can skip right past your monsters to strike you directly." The woman summoned her giant warrior angel shadow again, and he shot past the field to strike at Jean-Paul directly while Mirror Force remained face-down, unable to flip up.
Matt 4200: Jean-Paul 2400 – 2400 = 0.
Jean-Paul was simply awestruck at the power demonstrated by the tiny woman. Of course, she wouldn't be tiny in a larger coliseum. With a Duel Disk or a larger dueling platform, she would be simply a knockout perfectly representative of the power she held within. His mind drifted away from the castle, racing with thoughts of Spenta Mainyu and how he wished they could have been together in a more spiritual realm.
Matt noticed the faraway look in Jean-Paul's eyes. He waited a moment to see if the opponent would snap out of it, and then he leaned forward for a better look. Jean-Paul's eyes were dilated and his pulse rate had increased since the duel ended. He wasn't likely in any danger, especially with the guards in the room to watch him, but he wasn't directly responsive when Matt called him a few times and waved his hand across Jean-Paul's eye line. This was a common effect to land on those who lost duels against the god cards, but Matt withheld the intention to inflict any harm despite Jean-Paul's threat to shoot him if he didn't. This effect was inflicted at Jean-Paul's behest.
"Okay," Matt uttered as he gathered his deck. "Good game, thanks for entertaining me, we'll just go in now," he said as if it were one statement.
He stood and turned to Bryan, who was still sharing goofy bodily talents with the big guard Eight of Spades. Matt pointed out Jean-Paul's condition and Eight offered to put Matt's name on the list himself. While he worked on that, Matt checked in with his best friend.
"My toes are getting pruney," was Bryan's reply.
"I'm sorry. Am I to believe now that you are so cold you have lost your mind?"
Bryan confessed, "I just spent a long time discussing injuries personal and inflicted plus weird talents I can showcase with my body parts with a guy even bigger than I am, who, by the way, can actually scale that wall right there. That wall!" The source of his excitement was a wall with an almost sheer face—no visible holds for feet or fingers that a normal human could utilize.
Matt pulled off his gloves and offered them. "Put these in your shoes, maybe, to help prevent heat loss through your feet. You'll need the extra warmth to help you keep it together against more god cards."
"Aren't you cold?"
"Spenta Mainyu keeps me plenty warm."
"Dude, you realize you're talking about your mom."
"She's not my—!" Matt paused to compose himself. "My mother gave me Spenta Mainyu. She isn't actually Spenta Mainyu."
"Are you sure? I mean, they're both really hot, plus it's a pretty big coincidence that your mom and your dad both had these really powerful god cards and you've got the spirit of an actual god living inside you. I mean, what if your parents really are human forms of those god cards?"
"That's silly," Matt retorted, "because that would mean there's a card version of…" He paused to consider the implications of what Bryan just said.
While he was momentarily speechless, Eight of Spades came back with the list in his hand and said, "I'll show you in now. The other duelists will be excited to know there's an extra god card."
Bryan looked amusedly at Matt while they followed the friendly giant. "Did you see how he spelled it? M-A-3T?"
"The three is silent."