I Am Become Death

by Masterdramon

For seven chosen individuals, death was but a new beginning; a chance offered by the Gods of old to join a mission greater than themselves, and to bring a final end to an inescapably chaotic world. Seven-part miniseries.

2. Part II: Demak Kera

I Am Become Death – Demak Kera

Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's. All Yu-Gi-Oh!-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi.

[-]

The Lord said:

"Doom am I, full-ripe, dealing death to the worlds, engaged in devouring mankind. Even without your slaying them not one of the warriors, ranged for battle against thee, shall survive."

– The Bhagavad-Gita, 11:32

[-]

One more book…just one more book…

The sight of graduate student Demak Kera tearing through yet another set of musty tomes was hardly an unfamiliar one to the staff of the Nagoya University library, but not a single one of them had the remotest idea of why he spent every waking moment of his free time slouched over a desk and reading like a madman. Were they pressed, they would probably have all assumed that Demak was simply an uncommonly diligent student…and his grades would have corroborated that assumption in full.

But no…in truth, very little of the research that kept Demak working far past midnight on a near-nightly basis had anything whatsoever to do with his pursuit of a business degree.

Those searching for the real reason for Demak's studiousness would have needed to look no further than the stainless steel safe he kept locked in the corner of his one-room apartment. Within the impregnable box, however, was not anything typical; no gold or jewels or family heirlooms rested inside its walls. Rather, there was naught but a single Duel Monsters card upon a display cushion, sealed securely within a plate of glass so as to preserve it from any further damage.

The descriptor "further" was required because even a cursory glance at the gleaming piece of white cardboard would yield the knowledge that it had been ripped in two at some point in its lifetime, mended lovingly but ineptly with masking tape before coming to rest at its present home.

And within that home the card – depicting an intricately robed simian holding aloft a staff of power – sat, day-after-day, with its only time spent free from the triple-locked safe being a weekly ritual in which Demak would bring it to his lips and whisper, "I'm sorry, Zeman. But I will find a way to bring you back to me. I will not allow us to stay separated much longer, old friend…and that's a promise."

[-]

The intertwining stories of Demak Kera and the Monkey Mage Zeman were long and, at the apex of their shared destiny, rather tragic. The second child of a Japanese seamstress and an Islamic Indonesian baker, Demak had been brought up in a mildly impoverished household; food and other essentials, at least, were generally not a problem, though for this to continue being so it was often necessary for his father to work two jobs (or even three, during the years when his older sister was off at college). But luxuries of any sort were simply out of the question – birthday presents would rarely if ever be anything more expensive than a candy bar or two. Still, it was thought that Demak's coming-of-age needed to be celebrated with a bit more pomp-and-circumstance than usual, and so a few weeks of overtime allowed the young boy to receive five packs of the world's biggest craze, Duel Monsters cards, upon turning thirteen.

None of the packs ended up yielding anything particularly rare or valuable, but Demak hadn't cared in the least; so far as he was concerned, those first forty-five cards had been the greatest treasures he could ever ask for. And despite their comparatively low quality, he was damn good at using them…his skills at wielding Trap Cards (or else bluffing his opponents out should he fail to draw one) soon became legendary on the schoolyard, enough so that a KaibaCorp representative was sent to extend him a full scholarship to Seto Kaiba's Duel Academia two years later.

And so it came to pass that, in the fall of 2006, Demak Kera became a proud member of the Ra Yellow dormitory, surrounded completely and totally by the one activity he had ever truly loved. That had been a…unique school year, to put it mildly – it had been rather hard to miss the entire school being transported into some strange desert or its students systematically transforming into duel-crazed zombies, after all.

After blacking out against the shambling onslaught, however, his memories of that period were distinctly hazy; several of his dorm-mates swore that he had ultimately joined their legions and dueled in an obsessive stupor for hours on-end, but whether that was true or not the whole matter had soon enough been drawn to a close thanks to the interference of Judai Yuki, the Academia's perennial golden boy. And all things considered, if he and the rest of the student body were quite willing to put that sordid affair behind them, Demak certainly wasn't going to argue.

But it was the very nature of Academia Island that no status quo could ever persist in extended perpetuity; if what his older peers were saying was true, the class immediately preceding his had nearly been completely brainwashed by some weird, light-obsessed cult, and the one before that had been assaulted by a trio of demons summoned by the school chairman. So comparatively speaking, it came as little surprise when, a few months after their return to the "normal" world, a slew of armored thugs had descended upon the student body and began kidnapping them into a bizarre alternate dimension…Demak included.

That brief period spent in the World of Darkness had been Demak's first true taste of the primordial forces that existed just outside the petty bounds of his home Universe, though of course he hadn't fully realized it at the time. An illusory eternity had flown by in that unending void, the Ra Yellow freshman's total isolation broken only by the occasional, bloodcurdling scream from one of his fellow prisoners. But otherwise, Demak Kera was left alone to wallow in the totality of his own despair, plagued by visions of failing utterly at a dueling career, squandering his family's hopes and aspirations, and returning home in disgrace.

And yet – and Demak was almost certain, despite never having discussed that horrific experience with anyone else, that this sensation had been wholly unique unto him – at a certain point, the effect had simply seemed to "wear off." Others remained in torment, but he merely…floated on, staring into the endless blackness and feeling rather closer to bored than anything else. The advantage to this state of existence was that Demak could occasionally observe glimpses of the outside world, and in this way he managed to see a good portion of Judai Yuki's duel with the master of this Hellish realm, a goat-skeleton-demon-thing known simply as "Darkness."

Eventually, this duel had resulted in Darkness' destruction and the freedom of all its myriad captives, and like the rest of Duel Academia's fundamental strangeness an unspoken agreement amongst the students and faculty was forged that no one was going to speak of the experience again. But Demak never forgot the cold and yet, oddly, almost comforting feel of the abyssal shadows against his skin, nor the vague sensation that something else had been…watching him from across that distant void.

The true reasons for how his body had reacted to his first taste of the Universe's infinite darkness would have to wait, however…for while his sophomore year at the Duel Academia had been rather less eventful from a "supernatural" perspective, it had nevertheless constituted the starkest turning point in Demak Kera's twenty-nine years of life.

Duel Monsters creator Pegasus J. Crawford had visited the Island at the beginning of that term, wizened and requiring of a cane despite his relative youth. None in the media had ever been quite able to explain the eccentric billionaire's sudden deterioration of health in the years leading up to his death, but if anything this unusually early onset of agedness had merely fueled his drive to continue interacting with his constantly evolving masterwork.

"Good evening, boys and girls!" Demak remembered him calling out jovially, either oblivious or else simply unconcerned that he was delivering his speech just before noon. "I'm sure that quite a few of you are wondering why I asked dear Kaiba-boy for a chance to speak with the rising stars of our next generation's dueling world. Well, the truth is, I've sometimes felt as if the game of Duel Monsters has been…stagnating for the last decade or so. Oh, we've had a few innovators in recent years, from the cool and calculating Edo-boy to your boldest and brashest of new graduates, the illustrious Judai-boy…but the game itself, if you'll forgive me for saying so, seems to be in a bit of a rut in terms of strategy.

"As such," Pegasus had went on, "I think that I've finally managed to come up with a fresh new invention – one that should turn the realm of Duel Monsters on its head more thoroughly than anything since Battle City! And so, without further ado, I present to you all…"

And with a flourish, the silver-haired gentleman had torn a silk cloth from a trio of display cases, revealing three freshly minted Monster Cards resplendent with dazzling white borders. The whole of Duel Academia, students and staff alike, had been rendered agape by the strangely hued cards, and based on the satisfied expression that had flitted across Pegasus' face this had been precisely the reaction he'd been going for. "Yes, that's right everyone…say hello to the world's first Synchro Monsters!" he had triumphantly exclaimed, motioning for a few of his Industrial Illusions employees to pick up the cases and hold them high. "These wonderful creatures come into play via a new game mechanic I've dubbed 'Tuning,' and I am certain that once you all have your hands on their incredible power, they will quite literally revolutionize the way this game is played!"

"And that is why, students, Mister Crawford has asked me to put together something of a…tournament for you all this week," Principal Samejima had said as he stepped forward. "Everyone from Osiris freshmen to Obelisk seniors will be required to compete in single-elimination matches, and the three students who place highest will receive the cards you see here…the very first of their kind ever printed. Third place will win you The Force of Earth, Gaia Knight; the runner-up will get their hands upon Monkey Mage Zeman; and the lucky duelist who wins the whole thing will become the proud owner of the mighty Gigantech Fighter! So if there are no further questions, you can all start heading over to Tome-san to obtain your first-round pairings…err, unless you have something else to say, Mister Crawford?"

"Oh, just one last little thing, Principal…I wouldn't want to keep all these precocious youngsters waiting too much longer for their fun and their prizes," Pegasus had answered, before his enthusiastic, almost boyish grin turned suddenly somber. "However, before I can allow these cards out into the world, I feel that I must share something of a…warning as well."

Clearing his throat and fingering the strands of silvery hair that always seemed to lie matted across his left eye, the CEO had stated, "It has always been clear to me, from the moment I released the very first Magic & Wizards packs a decade ago, that my cards have something of a life of their own…a 'heart,' if you will. Used with the proper care and respect, this 'heart' can form an unshakeable bond between the player and the monster, a bond that can endure even through the severest of adversity. But should such pure emotions be lacking in the user…well, let's just say that the results I've seen firsthand have never been pretty.

"I tell you all this, ladies and gentlemen, because as these Synchro Monsters represent the newest evolution in this wonderful game of ours, so too do they represent an evolution for those very same bonds," Pegasus had continued. "For over a year I have been hard at work, trying to get at the heart of what truly defines the spirit of Duel Monsters, but in doing so I feel I have greatly raised the stakes that the dueling world must face in the coming days. The pathways these cards forge between the outside world and the human soul are pure, and so it is imperative that those of you who gain access to their startling power clear your minds of all but the most positive thoughts and emotions. I offer these cards to you, first, because it is only a person of open-minded youth whom I can truly trust to heed this counsel. Good luck to you all…and remember well these words."

"Erm…indeed! Now…let's give Mister Crawford a good round of applause for donating his valuable time to us and, uh, begin this tournament posthaste!" Samejima had added, somewhat awkwardly; the unexpected graveness in the American businessman's demeanor had clearly caught him rather off-guard, as it had for virtually everyone else present. Demak in particular distinctly remembered his initial confusion at the notion that a card could represent anything more complicated than its financial or strategic value…but at least he had listened to the weighty words of warning, which was more than could be said for the student who had been sitting directly to his right.

Takasu Armstrong had been an Obelisk Blue senior at the time, and in Demak's estimation, an absolute lout. Boorish, crass, and obnoxious even at the best of times, Takasu had been snoring loudly throughout Pegasus' entire speech, and it had taken all of the Ra Yellow's self-control to prevent himself from smashing the fat slob's enormous nose in. As he understood it now, the man had grown up to become a security guard at a Domino City prison via some family connections…which, he figured, was an appropriate enough career path for the inane thug. He and the criminal scum housed there deserved each other.

Of course, Demak's rather piss-poor opinion of the man had very little to do with that particular incident, though he supposed that was where the whole mess had really started: with the tournament whose announcement Takasu had slept through. But nevertheless, the brute had entered later that day, as had Demak and the rest of Duel Academia's student body…and by the following sunrise, the Island was in full-swing with the fervor that came only with dueling, each and every teenager present vying for a chance to attain one of those inaugural Synchro Monsters.

[-]

There had been some close calls – many, in fact – but in the end, though he truly had absolutely no idea how he'd pulled it off, Demak Kera had ended up in the final match of the tournament. By far, his most difficult opponent up to that point had been Rei Saotome, the sole female in the Osiris Red dorm and the person generally considered to be the closest thing to a successor Judai Yuki still had on the Island.

If nothing else, he felt rather fortunate that she had knocked out the only other "disciple" of the recent Osiris graduate participating in the tournament, Ra senior "Tyranno" Kenzan, in the quarter-finals; something about mere contact with Judai seemed to have endowed pretty much all his friends with dueling skills far beyond the general par, and Demak was dead certain that facing both champions in succession would have resulted in his quick and ignominious defeat. As it was, he had slipped through to the finals by a mere hair's breadth, snatching the slimmest of victories at the last moment thanks to a particularly lucky draw. Thus, he hadn't been feeling especially confident in his prospects as he nervously shuffled back onto the dueling field, the cheers of the entire Osiris and Ra dorms – as well as over half of Obelisk – following him as he did…at least, until he had managed to catch a glimpse of his opponent.

Given the sheer number of participants, the tournament had wound up getting divided into two brackets, with one half of the student body dueling for a round and the other observing, until it came time to switch off. Consequently, Demak had managed to catch the highlights of most of Takasu Armstrong's duels, and what he had seen had hardly impressed him; the portly young man had displayed the tendency to pour all of his resources into massive, game-breaking plays at every opportunity, meaning that Demak's Trap-heavy stratagems were the perfect antidote to his reckless aggression.

Dimensional Prison; Hell's Pitfall; Dark Bribe; even the rarest card in his entire deck, Warning of God…each and every Trap he'd set up, Takasu had walked straight into. Demak might have felt almost sorry for the loudmouthed fool had he been a good sport about it, but nothing could be farther from the truth; as the cards on his field and in his hand dwindled to nil, the older student had become almost incoherent with rage, shouting vulgar insults about Demak's mother and ethnic background while at the same time boasting about how he would crush him into dust in mere moments.

"This is the end, you fucking little cocksucker!" Takasu had shouted, extending both his middle fingers and shaking them lewdly. "I'm gonna use Jar of Avarice to shuffle five monsters back into my deck, and then draw two extra cards! How do ya like that, ya pussy-ass bitch?"

"It seems just fine to me," Demak had responded, mock-yawning into his hand as he surreptitiously fingered his face-down Magic Cylinder. "Is that it?"

"Not even close!" the smug brute had shot back. "Now I'm gonna Summon out Chainsaw Insect, and equip it with two copies of Demon's Axe! Let's see you block this one, you stupid little shit…Bisecting Buzzsaw!"

That had been it – the final juncture. Takasu had had nothing left on his field other than that single, powered-up insect, and the Trap that would have turned every single ATK point it possessed back on its master had been but a finger-press away from being sprung. Pushing that button on his Duel Disk would have meant Takasu Armstrong's humiliating and oh so well-deserved defeat, as well as the ability to claim the incredibly powerful Gigantech Fighter as his own. Victory had literally been inches away…

And yet, for a reason that he hadn't quite been able to explain to himself at the time, Demak had permitted the attack to strike him down. It was a strange feeling that had compelled him to do it, but an inexplicably intense one; all he could say was that, while happening to glance in the direction of the display cases that held the three Synchro Monsters, he had come to the sudden realization that he needed the second-place prize. It had almost been as if the Monkey Mage Zeman was…calling to him, and while he had had absolutely no idea why this was the case, he had seen enough in the previous schoolyear to know that such strong instincts were not to be refused.

Of course, the answer to that particular mystery would not have to wait long to come to the surface.

[-]

Are you…a human?

Initially, Demak had had no idea whatsoever where that voice had come from, and given that he had been alone in his dormroom at the time (desirous of a few moments' solitude in order to examine his new "acquisition" more thoroughly), that fact had both perplexed and somewhat disturbed him. Apparently indifferent to Demak's stunned silence, however, the voice – a low, rumbling tone that sounded almost bestial – had continued on with its one-sided discourse.

I've been waiting for a certain human to come across me for so long…so very long. Are…are you he? Are you…my partner?

"Y…your partner?" Demak had whispered, his fingers shaking as he had slowly come to the realization of exactly where the deep but muted tones were coming from. Sure, Mister Pegasus had said all that weird stuff about cards having "hearts" or whatever…but he hadn't mentioned anything about apparently normal pieces of cardboard up-and-deciding to talk by themselves!

Yes…I can feel it now. You've been touched by the energies of one of our dimensions, just like so many others on this enchanted isle…but you're different. You're…like me…

"W…Whadaya mean by that?" the young student had stammered, still scarcely believing what was happening and yet unable to avert his attention for even a second. "Err, mister…'Zeman,' is it?"

Indeed, my name is Zeman, the Monkey Mage…but I see now that I shall need to start from the beginning. Are you willing to hear my story, young human?

"I…I guess so," Demak had answered, unsure of what else to say.

This world you reside in – the dimension that contains within it the planet you call "Earth" – is but one of several; as I understand it, very few of your species seem to be aware of even this basic of truths. Nevertheless, your dimension is generally agreed to be the first one, and is the well from which all other life across every corner of our Universe has sprung. Still…twelve more dimensions have come about since that time immemorial, housing all manners of creatures both great and small. Your kind has come to collectively call us "Duel Spirits."

"Are you a…'Duel Spirit' too, then?" Demak had asked nervously.

That is most certainly so, young human – I hail from the Seventh Dimension, a land of incomprehensibly immense greenery known as the Ancient Forest. I act as court mage to the ruler of the town of Schwank, the magnanimous Ancient Fairy Dragon…but this is the first time my magicks have been anywhere near strong enough to breach the dimensional void. There is truly but one explanation for this phenomenon: you and I are destined to act as partners. Perhaps, we always have been…

"Look…could you, uh, explain a little bit more about this 'partner' business?" Demak had interjected, holding up the card closer to the light and observing an almost imperceptible glow come alight in its painted eyes each time its ambient voice spoke. "You seem like a real nice guy, I guess…y'know, for a talking card…but I still really just don't get any of this."

Very well, then. I have noticed, in the course of my courtly duties, that some of my brood have begun to…fade from the forests in recent times. Researching these peculiar occurrences further, I have gradually come to realize the profound connection we spirits feel to your kind's mythology and folklore…most recently expressed through the game you call "Duel Monsters."

Yes, this "Duel Monsters" was a most…enlightening discovery, if I may say so myself. While I had seen shades of we spirits in so very many of your human cultures, glimpsed briefly from beyond the veil via the most arcane of magicks, never before had I witnessed such perfect representations of everything from the tiniest Dancing Elf to the legendary Blue-Eyes White Dragon. I knew, immediately, that the human who brought this game to fruition – the Pegasus, I believe he calls himself – must possess an unbelievably intimate link to the other worlds that encompass the grander Universe, albeit perhaps subconsciously.

And this was, I soon realized, the true reason for all the disappearances from our realms; every card produced by the Pegasus or his associates would invariably provide a pathway by which the corresponding spirit could enter your dimension, and bond with those human beings that wielded their physical manifestations in battle. Most of your kind seem to be utterly unaware of our presence…but a few, like you, hold the innate power to see and hear us for what we really are. As such, a handful of spirits that have stepped forth into your dimension have voluntarily chosen to stay, and to their beloved human companions they have come to be called "Spirit Partners."

"So that means…that you think I am your fated partner?" Demak had repeated, his eyes blinking rapidly in bewilderment. "That I gave up my rightful victory a couple hours ago because we are meant to be…err, companions, did you say?"

I do not think it; I know it. I am certain of so very little about you, young human – I have failed to even catch your mortal name – and yet I could sense, from the very moment that my cardboard vessel was forged and I was able to cross your world's threshold, that you were possessed of the rare gift required to observe reality for all that it truly is. Witness, now…am I not plain to you, in a way that eludes virtually all of your peers?

And indeed, at the sound of these words Zeman had no longer been merely an intricate arrangement of printed ink, but rather a genuine, towering ape brandishing a mystical staff and smiling warmly at the young student. Of course, it was true that the creature had not been quite as corporeal as Demak himself, resembling more closely the semi-transparency of a spectral ghost…but regardless, this had been impossible to pass off as anything less than definitive proof of all he had just been told. How he had known this with such certainty, Demak hadn't been able to say, but the fact remained that he did.

"I hope that this shall suffice for your needs, young human," the Monkey Mage Zeman had bellowed, inclining his head respectfully. Though he was still stunned silent, Demak had hastened to return the gesture.

"This is…oh God, this is…wow…" the Ra Yellow had eventually blathered, sizing up the spirit from head-to-toe and stretching out an experimental hand forward, though as he had been half-expecting, his fingers went straight through the ape's rather larger ones. "Err…and about that 'mortal name' business…you can just call me 'Demak,' if you want. Demak Kera."

"Demak Kera of the First Dimension…yes, I would say that your chosen appellation carries with it quite a broad sense of majesty," Zeman had responded approvingly. "I think that this may well be the start of, as I believe you humans term it, a beautiful friendship."

"Yeah…yeah, I guess…" Demak had muttered, before swallowing audibly and following-up with, "So umm, Zeman…what exactly do Spirit Partners do?"

"I believe that that is something we shall have to answer for ourselves," Zeman had replied, doing his best to approximate a comforting gesture without the ability to physically touch his human counterpart. "So long as our connection exists, I shall remain here, if for no other reason than that I find your world positively fascinating…and as such, I place myself completely at your disposal. And so, in reaction to your query, I should instead like to ask: what would you like for us to do, Demak?"

[-]

That had, perhaps, been the moment when Demak Kera's initial ambivalence (to put it mildly) gave way to an almost childlike giddiness, one that only strengthened as the next few weeks flew by. Demak had never exactly had a whole lot of friends in his youth – his near-poverty and a general neighborhood culture of xenophobia directed against his father had combined to ensure that very few other kids had any interest in even getting near him – so having a constant companion whose very presence was known solely to him had been incredibly euphoric.

And the Monkey Mage Zeman, as it turned out, had been an ideal partner in virtually every manner by which such a thing could be measured. Sage and experienced, the spirit had been able to draw on his nigh-encyclopedic knowledge of his fellow monsters in order to assist Demak on the battlefield, not to mention coming to the field himself whenever his partner could assemble the requisite materials. Against opponents that were, naturally, incapable of Summoning anything to match Zeman's level of adaptability and sheer power, this had resulted in a rather protracted string of victories on the sophomore's part. By the time a month or so had passed in this manner, so far as Demak was concerned…he was untouchable.

Unfortunately, he was also arrogant. Zeman had proven to be an unfailingly supportive friend in both the best and the worst of times, but the side-effect of this two-part camaraderie was the alarmingly rapid rate at which it inflated Demak's ego. Knowing that the very Universe itself had deemed him "special" enough to see, hear, and wield the Monkey Mage was an overwhelmingly empowering feeling, especially for someone of Demak's fairly unremarkable upbringing, and it was the overconfidence that knowledge brought that had convinced the young man to challenge Takasu Armstrong to a rematch.

"You won because I let you win, you fat, disgusting slob," he remembered saying, drawing himself up his fullest height as Zeman, invisible to everyone else, did the same to his left. "Meet me at the Ra Yellow dueling field in two hours and I'll prove it to you."

Demak also remembered well the older boy's reaction, a series of wild guffaws that had culminated in a boisterous, "Sure fuckhead, why not? But you're gonna have to make it worth my while, if ya know what I'm sayin'."

"I have no idea what you are saying, and I don't care. Whatever ridiculous conditions you place on our duel, I have no problem with them," Demak had boasted.

"Then you won't mind adding in a little…wager, eh?" Takasu had bellowed back, sneering haughtily. "My terms are simple, piss-stain – one Synchro Monster bet against another. The winner walks out of here with both, and the loser gets tossed out on his unworthy ass."

Getting right up in the bully's face, Demak had considered this proposition for a split-second before snarling, "You don't deserve to have that wonderful monster anyway; you're just a moronic pig who can't even see his cards for what they really are. That Gigantech Fighter deserves a master who will understand and honor his magnificence. So, I guess what I'm saying is…you're on."

[-]

Zeman had tried several times to dissuade Demak from this path in the following hours, but to no avail; the young man had never before had a reason to indulge in the accumulation of pride, and there was little doubt that the sensation was quite intoxicating. Being forced to pretend that someone as uncouth and incompetent as Takasu Armstrong was his better had wounded his duelist's spirit more than we would've ever been willing to admit, and with Zeman at his side (in all respects), any prospective scenarios other than a swift and glorious victory never even crossed his mind.

…So when Gigantech Fighter plunged a massive fist through the holographic representation of his Duel Spirit and his Life Points drained to zero a few hours later, Demak hadn't exactly been well-prepared to deal with the outcome.

"I…I don't get it…" he recalled stammering, sinking to his knees as all the cards in his hand and field fluttered to the ground, Monkey Mage Zeman included.

"What's there to get?" Takasu had snorted in return, kicking Demak in the gut and spitting in his face for good measure. "Your cards are fucking weak, and so are you. You aren't worthy of the power of a Synchro Monster." Then, as if to emphasize just how little regard he extended toward the cards and the duelist in question, the thug had torn out some of his own nosehairs and blew them across Demak's trembling form, before jutting out his palm in expectation for his end of the wager.

Demak, of course, had been acutely aware that he would be losing quite a bit more than a rare and powerful ace card at this point, but there was no use protesting; he had brought this misery upon himself, after all, through his arrogance and his hubris. And so, crying openly and not caring that the various other students who had come to observe their climactic rematch were staring, Demak had reluctantly handed over his most precious possession – his only friend – to the greedy Obelisk, the faint sound of Zeman's screams of remonstration echoing in his ears.

"Yeah, I gotta say, this thing is damn pretty," Takasu had snickered in smug revelry, waving it tauntingly in the face of its former owner. "Not as strong as Fighter, though. In fact…I'm not even sure that I need another one of these guys now. I kicked your pussy-ass just fine with only one Synchro, didn't I?"

"I…I don't care if you use it in duels or not…" Demak had found himself quietly pleading. "Just…please take good care of it…of him. Please…"

"It really means that much to you, does it?" Takasu had asked, raising an eyebrow at the quivering Demak, who meekly nodded. "Well, then I guess that changes some things…"

And then, before Demak could really register what the older student had said, Takasu Armstrong had ripped the Monkey Mage Zeman clean in two.

For Demak Kera, all time had stopped in that instant. All sights, all sounds – everything – had faded into an indistinct blur, the torn pieces seeming to fall at his feet in heart-wrenchingly slow motion as Takasu's boisterous mirth sounded loud and far across the dueling hall. Soon enough various spectators had begun shouting, though Demak heard only snatches; the gist seemed to be that they were outraged that Takasu would so blithely destroy one of the rarest cards in existence, as well as a personal gift from Pegasus himself.

From the older student's expression, he had evidently been too caught-up in his sadism to think that particular notion completely through…but it mattered not. As Takasu grunted irritably and fled through the opposite doorway, hollers of scorn and derision following close behind him, Demak had merely bowed his head and wept.

[-]

The next few weeks had been spent in the deepest clutches of despondency – a depression far greater than Demak would ever have considered himself capable. Sometimes he cried, but most of the time he simply laid back on his bed and stared up silently at the painted yellow ceiling, feeling a paralyzing numbness that defied description.

He hadn't truly known what he'd had until he'd lost it…that much was crystal-clear. It had been far more severe than merely losing his freshly acquired position of "big man on campus," as it were; it wasn't like if Seto Kaiba were to lose his famed Blue-Eyes White Dragons, which were rare and powerful but surely possessed no deeper connection than that to their owner's heart. No, this had been nothing less than the horrific and irrevocable death of a friend – the only friend Demak had ever truly had.

Looking back now, Demak would sometimes wonder how in the Hell he'd ever managed to successfully complete his sophomore year in such a condition. In his grief, he had ceased showing up for about half of his classes, skipping meals and generally trying as hard as possible to avoid even the barest of human interaction. Cheap snacks and plenty of naps – not that he was ever really sleeping comfortably in those days – had kept his health from dipping below the absolute minimum needed to stay sane, but only just…and soon enough, even that baseline seemed to be have been growing increasingly precarious.

You need to pull yourself out of his funk, Demak. Self-destruction is not the path of the wise and noble warrior.

Deprived of the mental presence of Zeman (which, after but a few weeks of deep camaraderie, had begun to sound just as natural in the young student's head as his own inner thoughts), Demak had eventually ended up attempting to supply the spirit's sage advice himself, trying his very best to approximate the Monkey Mage's deep and rumbling tones.

This is not the end of the world, aibou. There is nothing else you can do for me now; it is time for you to move on. No man or spirit ever achieved lasting success by dwelling on the past.

But it had been no use…he simply didn't have Zeman's talent for proverbs, nor his general air of timeless sagacity. And though Demak knew well that keeping up a constant stream of comfort and support was fundamental to remaining "in-character" as the purplish ape, the fact that Zeman's death was entirely his own fault made maintaining that attitude somewhat…difficult, even for a figment of his own imagination.

You threw me away, Demak. Callously tossed me aside, merely for the sake of your own foolish pride. You're as despicable as humans come, and I wish most desperately that we had never even met. You know what I say is true.

"But…but then…what can I do?" Demak had blubbered, fully aware that he was arguing with his own inner voice and well-past the point of caring. "If I can make it up in any way…I'll do anything; anything! Please, just tell me…"

…There may be a way.

This last thought had come as something of a surprise to Demak, given that – so far as he was aware, at least – he had not generated it. No, his (albeit somewhat vague) plans for the day had seemed to consist of little more than a few hours of further self-beratement, before scarfing down a cup of ramen and trying to catch a snatch or two of actual sleep. But even if the unbidden thought could be dismissed as an unconscious reflex from his emaciated psyche, the fact that it was at least one octave higher than his own (where his attempt at affecting the pseudo-Zeman was rather lower than his normal register, and by quite a fair margin at that) had been…curious.

And yet, in the state that he had been in at that particular moment, Demak Kera hadn't really much cared. Enthralled, he'd simply listened.

Humans have been interacting with Duel Spirits for thousands of years, whether they realized that they were doing so or not. In ancient lore the world over, tales of their legacies remain strong – the mythologies of a hundred cultures interacting with millions of spirits, demons…even Gods. Within all those tomes, there must be at least one reference to the resurrection of a spirit that has fallen before. If you truly wish to feel catharsis for your disastrous lapse into vainglory, then you must find it. Oh yes…find the way, Demak Kera…

Then the voice was silent, and Demak had felt himself slip inexorably into the grip of true slumber for the first time in weeks, his last memories being the rather pungent and peculiarly out-of-place scent of sulfur pervading the room.

[-]

And that, roughly speaking, brought Demak to where he was now: still obsessed, and indeed perhaps moreso than ever, with locating the ever-elusive knowledge that would finally allow him and Zeman to be reunited, once and for all.

The intervening years, nearly all of them spent on wild-goose-chase after wild-goose-chase, had been unendingly torturous; several of his more promising reference texts likened losing one's Spirit Partner to losing a part of one's very soul, an observation that Demak considered acutely apt. Without Zeman in his life, there was no pleasure – food had no flavor; his sex drive stagnated completely; and even dueling, once his greatest and most intimate passion, held for him no inordinate intrigue. Indeed, since graduating with honors from Duel Academia and heading off to university in Nagoya, Demak hadn't once felt the urge to actually play the game with his classmates. Until Zeman returned to become the general of his cardboard beasts once more, there was no point.

But Demak would not give up; his past state of abject dejection had done nothing but waste time, and he was determined never to make that same mistake again. Every waking moment of the past three years or so not already consumed by classwork or the various part-time jobs he used to fund his education was dedicated solely to Duel Spirit research, much of it taking place within the university library but other portions involving the acquisition of "materials" from various peddlers of the mysterious and the arcane – and typically, rather shady ones at that. The implications of the fact that he now possessed not one, but three ancient tomes bearing heavy bloodstains across their pages were certainly not lost on him.

Of course, that wasn't to say that the search had been going at all smoothly. Dead-ends were abound virtually every day, as separating those myths that might well have sprung from a grain of truth from those that were entirely fiction was not an easy task. It was clear, at least, that quite a few cultures of antiquity had had some sort of contact with Duel Spirits in the past, though they hadn't always been recognized as such; the Greeks and the Norse in particular knew of them quite well, but only the ancient Egyptians seemed to have identified the Spirit World for what it truly was, and attempted to harness its power for their own gain.

But though his knowledge in these areas grew tremendously vast as the years of research ticked by, Demak nevertheless drew no closer to attaining that one kernel he so desperately desired: the method by which a deceased spirit could be returned to the Earthly plane.

Restoring life that had passed from this realm to its original state was, if not outright impossible, then at least unfathomably difficult in nearly every legend that Demak devoured. Those men, monsters, and Gods fated to die throughout the course of Ragnarök were amply numerous, and its survivors so very few…and yet, the very first life destined to be claimed by the Twilight of the Gods, Odin's second son Baldr, would ultimately be amongst the resurrected as well – riding high across a new golden land wherein the Earth would spread its abundance forevermore.

On the other hand, there were the Greeks, whose tales depicted a Tartarus from which spirits supposedly could escape, and yet almost never seemed to succeed. Orpheus sprang to mind immediately – the bard who had loved his wife so thoroughly that he had paid pilgrimage to the Underworld's Lord and Lady and beseeched them for her immortal soul, only to lose her at the last second to the vile temptresses of curiosity and paranoia. And then there was Sisyphus, who had quite literally enchained death for a time…but the less said about how that particular fable had inevitably worked out, the better.

No, with naught but these strange and contradictory myths of old to go upon, it was fairly certain that Demak would not have been making any progress at this rate…were it not for the e-mails, anyway.

Each of the messages lacked an address for the sender, but certain patterns in word choice and diction made it fairly clear that they all originated from a single author. Furthermore, while it was of course impossible to discern a concrete "voice" from the written texts that arrived in his private inbox at precisely regular intervals, there was nonetheless something intimately familiar about the writing style, and it didn't take much thought to realize why: these were, undoubtedly, the words of the same person who had sent him that mental "message" years ago. That experience had proved so profoundly bizarre that he would easily have been willing to write it off as the product of extreme hunger and sleep deprivation combining with severe depression, but the continued reception of these additional pieces of information seemed to cast doubt upon that notion.

The e-mails varied in their particular content, though each ended with an affirmation that Demak should not give in, as Zeman's revivification was surely but a few short days away. Beyond that, they frequently recommended particular texts or "suppliers" to maintain the momentum of his journey, or else nuggets of knowledge meant to expand the young man's understanding of all Thirteen Dimensions within the grander cosmos. Occasionally, his mysterious benefactor would even wire him some much-needed cash, so that he might do a bit of world-traveling on weekends in connection with his…"work."

Things continued roughly in this same pattern for nearly ten years following the sending of the first e-mail, for while Demak himself eventually graduated into the working world with multiple business degrees, soon enough landing a lucrative and relatively stable position at KaibaCorp, his relentless pursuit of Duel Spirit-related knowledge remained the one constant factor. He still received the anonymous messages every week on the dot, and he still spent the entirety of his free time searching for that one obscure text or tome that might hold the secret he had waited so long to uncover.

Why he didn't even once stop to question this unusual state of affairs, Demak would have had significant trouble answering if asked, but regardless he pressed on. After all, stopping to wonder exactly who else in the world would possibly gain from his reunion with Zeman, particularly to such a degree that they would go through this much trouble to assist him, wasn't going to bring his mission any closer to fruition.

[-]

April 7, 2021 had not appeared to be at all an unusual day from the outset. It was a Wednesday, meaning that a fresh e-mail was due to arrive about an hour before he left for work, and indeed no sooner had Demak opened up his inbox than a blinking icon indicated a new electronic message, rendered in his benefactor's familiar Courier typeface. Smiling contentedly, Demak poured himself a cup of black coffee and began to read.

The time has finally come to end this charade, Demak Kera of Earth.

Let there be no mistake – you have been an impressive stooge, and a great asset to my operations within this particular Universe. But there is only so much any given pawn can do in a state of stagnation, and thus it is time for this world's massive chessboard to be "shuffled" accordingly.

Read carefully, young mortal: the key to the fulfillment of your heart's deepest desire lies in the infinite power of Duel Energy. It is the primordial force that makes up the barrier between dimensions, and in sufficient quantities it can break the very laws of reality itself. To reconnect with your lost partner, you must harness that energy's miraculous potential.

You know, of course, that about ten years ago – as you humans prefer to count time, at least – a cataclysm struck your planet, a devastating event dubbed "Zero Reverse." You will also have no doubt been told that the origin of this catastrophe was a freak earthquake. This is a lie.

On the day in question, several of the modern mages you call "scientists" unlocked the full power of Duel Energy…with disastrous results. Since then, their successors have put their research toward capturing those energies for power and profit, rebranding it with the moniker "Momentum." But though your leaders revel in the transformative effect their work has wrought upon Earth's politics and economy, all but a very select few are blind to the true extent of what was discovered that idle spring evening.

There is one, however, who still remains: one of the assistant researchers on the project, a man by the name of Rudger Goodwin. Since the dawn of the era of Momentum, he has ensconced himself within the ruinous remains of his former laboratory, located deep at the heart of the slums that Domino City has cast off and forgotten…the island of Satellite.

It is imperative that you seek out this man immediately. Restoring your partner's spirit will be utterly impossible without his assistance, as will the culmination of your own, personal fate.

This will be our last correspondence, young mortal. Within the next moment, you shall forget everything you have ever known or suspected about my identity – indeed, you shall forget about me and my messages altogether. All you shall know, from this point onward, is that you must find Rudger Goodwin.

This is the end of the line, my dear pawn. I would wish you well in your future endeavors…but, of course, I already know precisely how each and every one of them shall be resolved. Enjoy your destiny, Demak Kera of Earth – it is truly a marvelous one.

Slowly, Demak Kera lowered his coffee cup and began to breathe rather heavily, his eyes sliding in-and-out of focus as he did. Then he absentmindedly proceeded to delete every anonymous message saved in his inbox (why did he have so many, anyway?) and pack a bag with travel essentials. All previous notions of heading off to work today were pushed decisively aside – after all, he had to get to Neo Domino City immediately, so that he might have a chance to meet this "Rudger Goodwin" for himself. How exactly that idea had lodged itself so firmly in his head neither concerned nor even occurred to Demak at any point; all that mattered was that Zeman would soon be his to love and hold once again.

So soon…so very soon…

[-]

Finding his way into the abandoned laboratory where Momentum had first been discovered hadn't exactly been a walk in the park.

Having never actually travelled to Domino City in the past, before or after its renaming, Demak hadn't fully appreciated until today just how strict the Public Security Maintenance Bureau was about…"border security." To be more precise, local law enforcement was rather adamant that no one within the sprawling metropolis be allowed to cross into the ghetto that lay in its shadow, or vice-versa; specific permits were apparently necessary even to venture into the bay that lay between them, on penalty of up to twenty years if caught.

Fortunately, if there was one thing that Demak had learned over his many years of Duel Spirit research, it was that there was a market for every possible need…legal or otherwise. Asking around in the right places gave the young businessman the names of several human traffickers specializing in just this department, though their clients were – understandably – rather more typically desirous of travelling in the opposite direction. Still, these were the types of people whom Demak could generally trust not to pry, so long as his money was good…most involved seemed to assume that he was going to "blow off some steam" at the expense of the Satellite natives, apparently an increasingly popular late-night activity for Neo Domino's upper-class youth.

In retrospect, however, that had been the easy part. The Satellite's reputation was notorious across all of Japan, and by all accounts it seemed to live up to the hearsay entirely; no sooner had he stepped forth into the B.A.D. district, the place where his subconscious was indicating quite strongly that he should begin looking for Rudger, than he was mugged by a teenager with silver hair and a bandana, who carried off his travel bag with a mad cackle. At least he had thought to hide the broken pieces of Zeman on his person, in fear that something just like this might happen on the way – everything else was replaceable.

Still, the B.A.D. area was clearly where Satellite's most despicable criminals had carved out their hovels, and it certainly showed. Various men with twisted faces and cruel features leered at him dangerously as he passed, occasionally unsheathing knives in silent threat, though none of them actively assaulted him further. One alleyway featured an elderly gentleman getting beaten bloodily – Demak walked past without a second glance – while another displayed the horrifying image of a young girl in the first stages of what was unmistakably a gang rape. At this, Demak paused for quite a bit longer…but ultimately he passed by there as well. This wasn't his town, and that wasn't his problem.

And so, soon enough, Demak Kera had arrived at the former Momentum research facility (which was, mercifully, fairly easy to locate from a distance if one knew generally where to look) bearing the clothes on his back and little else. Fingering the ripped remains of his fallen friend with a mixture of apprehension and trepidation, the young man turned over his shoulder to ensure that no one had followed him and, satisfied, pushed open the unlocked front doors.

The sight that greeted him might well have come straight out of a horror novel. Rather than the crisp and pristine – if abandoned – scientific laboratory he had been expecting, the innards of this building were covered wall-to-wall with gothic architecture and Victorian artwork, its dim hallways lit solely by eerily glowing torches placed at regular intervals. The exact condition of these adornments was the strangest thing, however; while entirely clean and dust-free otherwise, nearly every single portrait or piece of furniture he passed came complete with an intricate cobweb or two, some of the larger ones sprawling for meters on-end. The overall effect was…unsettling, to say the least.

"Well, well, well…welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the monkey," came a deep voice from directly behind him, and an intense chill ran down Demak's back as he slowly turned backward, now acutely aware that he was not alone in this nightmarish citadel.

The other figure was clearly male, though most of his face could not be seen; a brazen cloak of black and crimson was draped over his shoulders, obscuring all but a thinly curled mouth. Too stunned and intimated by the other man's sudden appearance to come up with an intelligent response, Demak ended up blurting out the first thing that popped into his head. "That's…not the right quote," he stammered, rather awkwardly.

"Hmm?" the robed figure murmured with intrigue, tugging down his hood to reveal a face-full of ritual tattoos; a long plait of prim, silvery hair; and, most disturbingly, what appeared to be jet-black eyes. "Now, what do you mean by that?"

"Err…it's just that, you misquoted the original poem…" Demak muttered, his voice trailing. "I mean, most people seem to make the same mistake…but it actually opens with 'will you walk into my parlor?' Umm…not that it really matters, of course…sir…"

"Oh, I certainly wouldn't agree on that front," the man argued with a low chortle. "Attention to detail is everything in my…business, you might say. And it's certainly useful to know that you are a genuinely learned individual; that should make a few things quite a bit easier."

"Umm…pardon me for my forwardness, sir, but are you by any chance Rudger Goodwin?" Demak managed to spit out, his brain finally beginning to snap back to some semblance of equanimity.

"That was indeed my human name. And you, Demak Kera, have come quite a bit of distance just to find me," Rudger declared, his ebony eyes gleaming. It wasn't a question.

"H…How do you know who I am?" asked Demak, his own eyes wide in shock.

"I am a diviner of spiritual matters, young sir…there is no way I could have missed you sniffing around the mystical laylines like a bloodhound all these years," Rudger answered matter-of-factly.

"But…I thought that you were a physicist," Demak queried, his face contorted in confusion.

"Once upon a time, yes…though not for quite a few years by this point," Rudger responded, now taking a few purposeful steps forward. "Not once since my rebirth have I engaged in such pathetically human a discipline."

"I'm…not sure I follow," Demak admitted, his eyes instinctively darting around to gain a better idea of potential escape routes. He didn't think he liked this man very much.

"Then come with me, and I shall explain everything on the way. There's been something I've been simply dying to show off for years, and this is the perfect opportunity. I think both you and your…little friend will find it rather intriguing," Rudger added with a wry grin.

That got Demak's attention. "How do you…?" he whispered.

"You don't get to where I am without picking up a few things," Rudger returned enigmatically. "But I assure you, I only know of your…situation in broad-strokes, and am more than willing to listen to the finer details and provide whatever assistance I can. All I ask…is that you extend me the same courtesy."

Every sane and rational impulse in Demak's head was screaming at him to turn tail and run as far from there as was humanly possible, but nevertheless his feet remained planted firmly where he stood. He had waited so long for an opportunity like this, wading through hundreds of dead-ends and false leads, that to walk away at this point…no, no. It was far too late for that.

"…Let's see this big secret of yours, then," he finally uttered, swallowing audibly and desperately hoping that he wasn't just making one more in a long lifetime of mistakes.

[-]

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Rudger breathed reverentially, and Demak couldn't help but agree entirely.

There was a sea of light swimming below them, every hue imaginable ebbing and flowing against each other in a dance that was beyond description. Demak vaguely recognized the rainbow-like energy as the same glow that lived within all Duel Disks from Generation 7.0 and higher…but there really was no comparing the two. Like a droplet of water set against a vast ocean, there was an indescribable power possessed solely by the latter, if only for its sheer size and scope.

"This is, as you've probably already surmised, the limitless pool of Momentum I left in my wake when I forcibly tore open the gates of Hell," Rudger went on after a few moments' ponderous silence. "Or have I not gotten to that part of the story yet?"

"If you're alluding to the fact that you caused the Zero Reverse incident, then I already know that much," said Demak, not bothering to think too deeply about where exactly the knowledge in question had come from. "But while this is, unquestionably, an awe-inspiring sight, I remain…unsure of its relevance to my case."

"You mentioned, on the way down here, that you believed your dear Spirit Partner to be dead because the card representing its mortal incarnation had been torn in two?" Rudger replied, his left hand running absentmindedly along some sort of tattoo or birthmark etched into his right forearm. "Well, I have good news on that front. Your spirit – 'Mezan,' did you say his name was? – has not departed from this world. No, he has merely lost his tether to the Earth-plane…a tether that can only be reestablished with the boundless power that swirls beneath us."

"So…what exactly are you getting at?" Demak demanded, sounding rather more upset than he had meant to. "Are you suggesting that I should just…?"

"Drop them in, yes," Rudger interjected with a smirk. "The original card you held is a lost cause, but with the right kind of influence from Momentum's light I believe that your Spirit Partner can be reborn – stronger, wiser, and most pertinently, immortal."

"And…how do you know this will work?" Demak pressed on further, his eyes beginning to grow slightly wet from the rapid escalation of his passion.

"Well, for one thing…it was precisely what happened to me," Rudger told him, pulling back his sleeve to better display the markings Demak had noticed earlier. The thing was far too intricate to be a birthmark, and yet it did not visually resemble any sort of ink tattoos he had ever seen in his life…though the purplish glow it took on as Rudger held it toward him was, arguably, a rather bigger tip-off that something "unusual" was afoot.

"You see, the reason that I exacted Zero Reverse in the first place was to right an ancient wrong – the imprisonment of the glorious Earthbound Gods by their accursed foe, the Crimson Dragon," Rudger elaborated, his expression flaring. "The first of those Gods to make their way into this brave new world, the Jibakushin Uru, marked my corpse with this sign and permitted me the chance to rise again, just so long as I agreed to serve him for the rest of my eternal days. Perhaps the same can be done for your spirit."

"…Why do you say, 'perhaps,' Mister Goodwin?" Demak demanded after several quiet beats, his lip quivering and his eyes bulging at these revelations. Even for someone who had lived his kind of life, this was…something else…

"Because I was a human, and that is a card," Rudger stated curtly, looking like he was very much resisting the urge to roll his eyes. For all of Demak's panicking and anxiety, the older man seemed like they might as well have been discussing lunch. "I really have no precedent to judge whether or not something like this will truly work. But Uru is…optimistic, and my God has never given me a reason to doubt its ancient wisdom."

"I…well, that is to say…no! That isn't enough for me!" Demak suddenly exploded, grabbing Rudger by the shoulder and shaking him. "Unless you can guarantee that Zeman will be able to return…I'm not risking all I have left of him for this!"

"Well, I'm afraid that I simply cannot do that," Rudger shot back. "However…you can."

"And what the Hell does that mean?" exclaimed Demak, sinking to his knees in frustration.

"I mean only that we are certain of one thing: the effect of Momentum's purifying aura upon a human fully willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good," Rudger explained, gesturing to himself. "Should you yourself…repeat that deed, you should be able to 'guide' the similar process of your Spirit Partner, as it were. All you need to do is…"

"…Jump in together," Demak finished for him, his voice ringing hollow as he realized just what this was all finally coming down to. His gaze was no longer concentrated upon Rudger's stern face, but on the dazzling brilliance that danced below – displaying itself for him, entrancing him…calling for him…

Then, without really considering what he was doing, Demak Kera had the broken pieces of the Monkey Mage Zeman grasped tightly in his fist, and before he could risk losing his nerve, he wrenched himself to his feet, closed his eyes tight, and took a single step forward.

[-]

There was light all around him, and yet Demak could see nothing.

He could, however, feel…and what he felt was, unambiguously, the most excruciating pain he had ever experienced. Thinking back, he supposed that this torturous state of existence was somewhat similar to the one that "Darkness" entity had entrapped him within all those years ago…except that now, not even the screams of fellow captives served to keep him company. Floating throughout this infinite blackness, enshrouded by luminance that his mortal eyes could not absorb, he was truly alone.

But no…no, he wasn't. Zeman's physical manifestation still lay between his fingers, and though he could not lay sight upon it, he knew that the dormant spirit within was going through precisely the same anguish. Both inside his hand and inside his very own soul, the life was rapidly fading…and yet, somehow, Demak's presence of mind never seemed to do the same. In fact, it was almost as if he was beginning to…hear something…

You are the mortal for whom I have hungered all these years, are you not? Oh yes…the glorious scents of despair and desperation are all about you.

By this point, Demak figured that he should've gotten used to hearing voices in his head, but whether it was his present circumstances or the sheer power inherent in those sonorous tones, he could not bring himself to even attempt to answer. Of course, the fact that the most pertinent question right now was whether he was fully or only mostly dead might just have contributed to his relative…silence.

Ah, and I see you have brought Me an additional offering as well! Oh, but don't misunderstand Me, Demak Kera…I can read your heart in an instant, and I can fulfill your greatest wish with absolute ease. While I have never revived a Duel Spirit with My energies, I am eager to try – and if you shall consent to the same, and swear fealty to the Jibakushin Cusillu for all eternity, I shall ensure that all will be well for the both of you. Now…do We have a deal?

Unable to do anything else, Demak thought vaguely in the affirmative and hoped that that would suffice. And, based on what happened next…it did.

Suddenly the young businessman felt his entire body being forcibly rent open, his departing life force giving way to a cavity that this deep-voiced entity seemed only to happy to refill. It was agony, and for several long moments Demak Kera's existence was nothing more than a swirling eruption of pain, the white-hot intensity of it all forming the first and only image he had ever been able to witness in this endless abyss. The same excruciating process, albeit with its medium somewhat altered, seemed to be going on within his right palm, and for all that time Demak found himself drawn most of all to two particular sensations in this all-around state of oblivion: a series of intricate lines etching themselves painfully into his forearm, and right below them, the shining white Duel Monsters card slowly beginning to reseal itself as the unknowable magicks of this realm burned a new identity into its fabric.

And then…then, as suddenly as it had all begun, it was over.

Demak was being lifted, now, and as his eyes started to blink open once more he soon beheld the sight of his savior – an enormous monkey composed of dense, black matter and glowing contours of brilliant yellow. Held firmly within the creature's palm, the young man caught a glimpse of a strange violet glow out the corner of his eye and, in dumbstruck awe, began to survey himself.

Gone were his old, unremarkable garments, seared away by the blinding energies from which he had just been extracted. Instead he now appeared to be wearing monk-like robes, very similar to Rudger's, though the trim was gold rather than scarlet. Feeling about his skull, he soon realized that his hair had been burned off as well, and he would not have been surprised to learn that his eyes had taken on the same ebony sheen as those of the man who was now leering at his new form.

Most distinct, however, was the mark that now adorned his right arm, a blazing purplish pictograph that roughly matched the shape of the being who had rescued him. An unfamiliar power was flowing from the sign and into his fist, and as the enormous monkey slowly lowered him back onto the scaffolding, he opened his fingers to bear witness to Zeman, looking as good as new.

"Zeman? Monkey Mage Zeman, can you hear me?" he beseeched desperately, running his shaking fingers all over the card in a fit of panic.

No…no Demak, that is not my name. Not anymore.

Demak's ebony eyes bulged, and he staggered back a few steps as if struck violently over the head. He dared not believe he'd heard what he thought he just heard, and yet…

Giving Zeman's card a second look-over as he had been bidden, Demak very soon realized that he had been wrong. While still very close to its former incarnation, the picture, effect, and even name of the Synchro Monster had all changed slightly; indeed, he wasn't quite sure that it even was a Synchro Monster any longer, given that its background and Level Stars both seemed to have been flipped into their direct photo-negatives. No, Zeman hadn't come back to him "good as new" at all…he had come back far better.

"Demonic Monkey King Zeman, I do humbly greet thee," Demak gasped throatily, his heart filling rapidly with a joy he hadn't experienced in over a decade.

Indeed, Demak…that is my new title. Our mutual benefactor has not only reunited our fractured bond, but has also endowed us both with powers far exceeding those of our former selves. We owe the Earthbound God Cusillu our endless gratitude…and our undying loyalty.

"Yes…yes, of course…" spoke Demak, raising himself back up to his fullest height and turning to Rudger, whose wide grin seemed to be composed of equal parts smug satisfaction and genuine warmth, and then further to the titanic monkey, its expressionless face regarding him imperiously. Clearing his throat and wiping the first inklings of tears from his blackened retinas, Demak timidly added, "Th…Thank you, Lord Cusillu. This is…more than I could have ever hoped for…"

"I should certainly think so, My avatar. I took a great chance upon you, so pray that you do not disappoint My faith," the Jibakushin declared sternly. A few beats passed before Cusillu seemed to think better of this demeanor, appending in a cooler tone, "But I do not have any reason to believe you shall, naturally. Your exceptional tenacity, particularly as a member of such a middling and insipid race, has been enough to impress even a God, and I am certain that you shall continue to act in a…comparable manner while in My service. So it is sworn, so shall it be done."

"Certainly, my Lord, certainly!" Demak cried out, bowing as low as he possibly could without hurting himself – which, he noted briefly, was quite a bit further than he would have otherwise expected. "But, if I might be so bold…err, what exactly do you mean by that? What will be required of me in exchange for these wondrous gifts?"

Cusillu's blazing eyes seemed to narrow for a moment, before it elucidated, "When you and your Spirit Partner willingly bathed yourselves in the power of the Hikari-no-Yami, you surrendered your mortal lives completely…and I, being a merciful God, did extend a certain portion of My own magicks to resurrect you both, albeit in My image. All I asked in return was for you to follow in the path My brethren and I have carved toward your planet's Final End; Uru's host should be able to fill you in on the rest of the details. Now, is Our bargain finally fully understood…or have I been wasting My attentions and energies all this time?"

"Oh no, no!" protested Demak, though his face betrayed his lingering misgivings. Shuddering deeply as he stared at the pitch-black card in his palm, he then asked, "Well…I guess I just need to know one thing: will Zeman and I be allowed to…to stay together?"

"In a manner of speaking…yes," Cusillu slowly answered. "You two are connected, mentally and spiritually, and shall remain so for as long as I exist in this plane. But you must realize what a…unique opportunity I have been handed this day, and it would be utterly foolish for Me not to take full advantage of it. As such, Demak Kera, I wish for you to serve as the second-in-command to Uru's host, and spread the will of the Underworld throughout this entire dimension. You on the other hand, Demonic Monkey King Zeman, must return to your world of origin for the time being – the land known to all as the Ancient Forest."

"And what must I do there, my Lord?" Zeman questioned, now half-materializing into the transparent spirit form that only Demak – and most likely Cusillu, given the trajectory of its unblinking gaze – could see.

"The same thing as Uru and I have commanded Our hosts to do here, of course," the monkey responded tersely. "I have endowed you with powers far outstripping any average spirit, and a title marking your destiny as that of a monarch; use these assets to subjugate all that you see to your will. Or, more accurately, to Mine."

"It shall be done, oh Great God of Death!" avowed Zeman, the zeal in his voice flaring as he prostrated himself.

"And as for you, then?" Cusillu demanded, inclining its massive head toward Demak once more. "Do you find these terms…amenable?"

Demak Kera considered this question for a very long time. On the one hand, he had never exactly considered "bringing about Armageddon" as a possible career path, and his stomach clenched slightly at the thought of causing death to every human friend or family member he had ever known – he had no false delusions over the scale or breadth of these entities' plans, after all. And yet…could it really be said that he cared for any of them, as of this moment? For virtually all of his life, Zeman had been the only remotely meaningful relationship he had ever shared with another being. Now he had a chance to get him back, albeit somewhat distantly. But they would be connected again, tied together inexorably by this immortal being, and working toward the same goal as well. Even if that goal was the destruction of all life in existence…did it really matter?

…And besides, so far as he had surmised from both Cusillu's monologues and his feelings of inherent wrongness within his own skin, he was now dead. A walking corpse didn't really have a lot of options ahead of them – save those commanded by their reanimator. In the last hour, he had quite unambiguously passed the point of no return…so if it was truly too late to turn back, he had may as well make the most of it.

"Very well, my Lord," Demak finally pronounced, sharing a long, meaningful glance with his Spirit Partner. "I live to serve your will, until the very end of time."

"Well, to play semantics, you do not actually live at all. But the sentiment is appreciated all the same, my host," the Jibakushin Cusillu affirmed, now beginning to dissolve into a dark vapor that swirled about the spacious chamber. "I expect great works from the both of you, in the name of the Gods of Old!"

And then, with a great, simian-like screech, the Earthbound God was gone completely, the haze left in its wake flowing slowly but purposefully into Demak's birthmark. A moment later he instinctively knew that the monkey had taken up residence in his subconscious, presumably so as to watch him…but the loyalty he had sworn was sincere, so there was nothing to worry about on that front.

Pushing those thoughts to the side for the moment, Demak instead turned to Zeman, whose slight smile appeared bittersweet. "After all this time…it looks like we'll have to be separating again soon," the newly reborn Dark Signer stated tentatively.

Zeman, however, shook his crown-adorned head. "No, Demak…worlds we may be apart in body, but in spirit, we shall always be connected," he said soothingly. "This mission our God has given us will not be a simple one…but together, I know that we can accomplish whatsoever we desire. Before you, the human realm shall crumble, and before I, the spiritual; none who draw breath shall stop our onslaught. But throughout it all, we shall be as one…now and forevermore."

"I…thanks, Zeman," whispered Demak. "Hearing that from you, it…it means a lot to me."

The two beings could not truly embrace, but Zeman gave it his closest approximation, and like the headstrong youth he had been when they first met Demak wept freely, burying his face as close as possible to the spirit's translucent fur as he cried for all that he had lost this day…and all that he had gained.

But that picturesque moment could not last forever, and so once Demak had gotten his momentary breakdown roughly under control, Zeman smiled at him once again and, nodding slowly, returned to his newly repaired cardboard vessel.

Demak, for his part, again wiped the tears from his eyes using the edge of his cloak, before pocketing his freshly acquired "Dark Synchro" and pulling up his hood to appear more dignified. Rudger, meanwhile, seemed fairly bemused by the whole affair, and once his opposite number had sufficiently straightened his garments he chuckled merrily and posed the query, "Alright now, is the soap opera finally over with? Because we've got a fair bit of planning to get to."

"Planning…yeah, that sounds about right," Demak agreed, clenching both fists in silent resignation. "Let's get to work."