IV

Sawatari Shingo liked to think he'd changed in the course of the past year—both as a person and as a Duelist. He'd gone from stealing a couple of Pendulum Monsters from Sakaki Yūya and holding the boy's friends hostage—just so Akaba Reiji could learn how those monsters worked—to fighting Sakaki Yūya as a god made flesh with his own Pendulum Monsters. So what if he'd lost both times? Shingo took great personal pride in the fact that that latter loss had occurred without Reiji needing to help him at all—and besides, everybody said loss was supposed to build character. So a Dueling record like his only proved his point that he'd matured quite drastically in such a short time. In fact, he didn't even care that people teased him over it anymore. Really. Hardly.

Not. At. All.

That didn't mean he wouldn't lapse from time to time, though. Which was why—as he'd yanked Kakimoto out of the living room of his friend's house, out the front door, and right between the legs of the Antique Gear Chaos Giant that had appeared there without even so much as a hi-how-are-you—he'd sprinted down the street faster than he had ever run in his life, his feet pounding the asphalt so quickly that Kakimoto's feet lost contact with the ground.

The sound of a laser beam carving through houses and yards—one of them no doubt belonging to Kakimoto—had lent wings to his flight. Every purple flash in the corner of his eye—every shout and scream of a terrified onlooker cut off as quickly as it had started—was one more step he could take away from certain doom. By the time he'd seen another Chaos Giant being Summoned directly in front of him, Shingo, despite the adrenaline that swamped his brain—or perhaps even because of it—had arrived to a threefold conclusion.

First, he now saw who the Duelists who'd conjured these monsters were. Even remembering the first time he'd seen a Chaos Giant Summoned before, and thus knowing who such forces of destruction belonged to, the soldiers looked too familiar for this to be coincidence. Secondly, as a Lancer who'd fought against the old Academia, Shingo, in his panic, assumed this to be a retaliatory strike from some force they must have kept in reserve.

Finally, he reasoned that if this was to be how his last moments of corporeal existence were to end, he should at least try to do something heroic first. Which was why he'd told Kakimoto to call up Ootomo and Yamabe so that they could meet up for a final stand—and which, in turn, was how he'd learned the both of them were on the run from their own pack of Chaos Giants as well.

By the time he'd realized his mistake, Shingo had seen no less than three Chaos Giants tearing their way through another residential sector, and realized that if he fled any further, he'd risk having all five of them on his tail. Yes, they'd all be chasing him instead of attacking the rest of Maiami City—but diverting an enemy force sounded a lot less heroic when said enemy force wasn't composed of five Chaos Giants and the soldiers who controlled them.

Then, by chance—just when he was about to pull out his Duel Disk, call his father and tell him how much he loved him—a young girl crossed his path, nearly careening into him. Shingo—top-heavy from how quickly he'd been running with Kakimoto in tow—skidded to a halt and promptly overbalanced, sending both boys crashing to the road in a heap. Only by twisting to the left at the last second did he avoid many, many zeroes on his next dental bill.

The girl, meanwhile—a preteen barely up to his navel in height—rounded on Shingo with an expression of extreme shock. "Oh my gosh! Are you okay?!"

Shingo was groggy as he pulled himself to his feet. He wondered if that was a sign of concussion. "We'll live," he said woozily. "Ow … " His eyes were out of focus enough that he didn't get a good look at the girl's face, but he saw enough that she looked vaguely familiar to him now.

She was very green, he thought—the wispy hairs on her scalp were as brightly verdant as a neon sign. An effort had been made to pull it back into a ponytail, whose orange ends conjured up images of the first leaf of autumn dangling from a tree, but extreme physical activity—no doubt from her running from who-knew-where—had left it in danger of falling to pieces. Her lime-colored tank top fit far too tightly against her—perhaps because she'd tucked it into her black gym shorts—but then Sawatari belatedly realized it was a leotard, with a silver scimitar-like stripe arcing gracefully from her waist to her left shoulder.

The girl must have been in dance class or something when the sirens had gone off, Shingo decided—the black duffel bag draped over one shoulder suggested she hadn't even had time to change her clothes—and was trying to make it home to her parents, where she must have thought it would be safer. But with the level of carnage he'd seen in the surrounding neighborhood, he wasn't optimistic that this girl's house was still standing—or that her parents were still around, given the order to evacuate and seek shelter.

"Sawa … tari?" Immediately he tore his eyes away from the girl, far more alert than before.

Kakimoto's voice was muffled against gnashed teeth. "Please … don't ever do that again."

He was cradling his left arm gingerly; Shingo hoped it was only a dislocation. But a faint smile twitched over his friend's face, and that was enough to make him feel the immense weight being lifted off his shoulders.

"Vis-con on target," crackled a voice over a radio. "Situation is eight-seven, Control. We've got him now."

Shingo looked up—and gulped as he saw both of the soldiers he'd been fleeing from, leveling the keypads on their left wrists right at him. The Chaos Giants that towered behind them did the same thing.

He had no idea what made him do it. Maybe it was Kakimoto—or maybe it was the girl. But something happened to Sawatari Shingo at that moment: he felt a surge deep inside him, a base need to protect his fellow man and woman. How long he knew them didn't matter. But he knew they didn't stand a chance against these men.

Unless.

"Eight-seven this!" he said defiantly, clipping his forest-green Duel Disk to his left arm. He slashed it through the air, activating a blade as lime-green as the girl's leotard.

"Action Field: Wonder Quartet active citywide," the device announced just then in a cool female voice. "Lancer signature confirmed. Stand by for dispersal field inversion."

Shingo's heart nearly stopped as a sphere of light radiated out from a nearby lamppost, blinding him temporarily and encompassing the houses, the street, Kakimoto, and the girl in the time it took to blink. A chill rippled over his body, sending goosebumps over every inch of his exposed skin.

When the spots faded from his eyes, the chill was instantly explained: the entire neighborhood looked as though it had been subjected to a nuclear winter. Cars and entire houses—damaged or otherwise—were covered in sheets of ice. Inches of snow blanketed the ground, leaving no distinction between lawns and roads, and muffling the noise of the city so thoroughly that Shingo's own breath felt deafening.

At least there was no sign of those Chaos Giants—small favors, he thought, all things considered. But he wasn't so dumb as to think he wouldn't be seeing them again soon.

He motioned to the girl, and to Kakimoto. "Both of you, behind me now," he said, in as authoritative a voice as he could muster under the circumstances. It was very hard work.

Kakimoto was in no condition to argue. But the girl sniffed haughtily. "Eh, I can take 'em," she said flippantly, fidgeting in place and stealing a look at her duffel bag. Shingo guessed she kept a Duel Disk somewhere in there.

"Let's not wait around to find out," he said warningly. "I'll take these two. If you want to go down swinging, you can take the next one. Just stay behind me and stay out of trouble."

The girl rolled her eyes. "If you say so, Mr. Bossy."

Shingo felt his lip curl at the cheek, but now wasn't the time to pull rank. There were other ways to prove that a student of the Leo Duel School, and a member of the Lancers, was a badge of honor—and a symbol of strength to the people who needed it most.

He rolled his shoulders, clenched his fingers to work out the cold—and prepared to do what he did best.

"DUEL!"

Several miles away from Sawatari and Kakimoto, the other two friends in that close social circle were in a sticky situation of their own.

Ootomo would normally be feeling his smug self whenever he was about to witness a Duel—especially against some very powerful monsters. He liked it less so when he was the one fighting the Duel in question—and even less still when those very powerful monsters were looking right at him. And the three gigantic machines that had trained laser cannons the size of locomotives right on his head looked as strong as strong could be.

He looked at Yamabe. His companion's green hair was slick with sweat, and so was the back of his school uniform.

"I don't think we have a choice," he said ruefully. "You'd better give me that duffel."

Yamabe spluttered where he stood. He glanced at the enormous carry-on bag he'd draped over one shoulder. "But—but this is supposed to be for Sawatari-san! He told me specifically that no one else could wear it but him! He only gave it to me because his washing machine was broken, and he trusted me to clean it properly—"

But Ootomo waved him off. "If you want to dodge all these monsters and these soldiers and find him yourself, you're more than welcome," he said. "Or you can give that duffel to me."

Yamabe swallowed. "If Sawatari-san catches you wearing this … "

"Neo New Sawatari can handle himself," Ootomo said confidently, stressing the words deliberately. He patted his Duel Disk. "And besides," he smirked, "I'd say now's as good a time as ever to introduce … Neo New Ootomo."

And even Yamabe, trembling where he stood as he opened the duffel bag, couldn't resist a smile of his own as he withdrew its contents, tossing them to his friend.

Ootomo caught the wide-brimmed, woven reed hat with his outstretched hand, cocking it over his head with a flourish. The blue cloak inside it fell into his arms, and a quick movement—practiced a hundred times in the mirror in preparation for this moment—cinched the cord loosely around his neck, and it draped over his arms and torso with a single flutter of wind—

He drew himself to his full height. Time to get into character. "Come, then!" he growled, feeling like Chūtarō of Banba drawing his trusty katana as he leveled his Duel Disk at the soldiers. "Let's Duel!"

Leo Duel School

Himika exhaled. It felt good to breathe again—even if things were far from over.

They'd managed to contain the worst of the surprise attack—Sora and Kurosaki would have to be commended for that, she thought later. Gongenzaka had done his part by taking out the apparent leader of the strike, and had been instrumental in informing Himika of a wholly unexpected maneuver on the soldiers' part.

That they sealed themselves into cards as well as other citizens was surprising, but not without precedent. Dennis MacField had done the same thing to himself once, in what felt like another lifetime. It was what happened to the soldiers' cards afterwards, however, that had gotten her to thinking. Why, after all, was it the cards that got sent back to the dimension from whence the soldiers had come, rather than the soldiers themselves? Academia had at least had the good sense to recall any soldier that fell on the battlefield back to the Fusion Dimension—both as a way to safeguard their lives for the fight ahead as well as a way to preserve whatever secrets they carried—

The penny dropped. The fight ahead … Himika's brain was racing. Something much bigger was going on here than just a simple all-out assault. And none of these men seemed to be fighting under fear of being sealed—as far as she could tell, they were doing the same thing as Dennis: they were turning themselves into cards of their own free will.

"These aren't soldiers," she murmured under her breath. "They're cultists." Fanatics, she thought—people whose minds had been so warped by whatever ideology had ensnared them that they would fight for it until their last breath. Even if the end came at their own hand, they would make it so to see the vision of their beliefs—or of their own—recognized for good.

The JSDF would be worse than useless here, she now knew. Fighting one army with another army was one thing. Fighting an idea, and those who sought to spread it to the world, required a far more flexible strategy—something more labyrinthine and widespread than mere brute force could—

Himika blinked. Labyrinthine. The more she thought about it, the more she thought she might have an idea.

"Updates from our runners, Himika-san," Nakajima spoke up just then. He was grinning—an uncharacteristic sign of relief upon his face. "The Lancers are beginning to take out the primary attack force—we have reports confirming that the initial incursions within the commercial sector and the airport have been contained!"

The headmistress nodded. So far so good, she thought. "What about the secondary forces—the ones that have been spreading out into the city?"

Nakajima tapped at his tablet. "All police precincts have been mobilized to engage them," he said, "and are deploying non-lethal measures against the invaders. Per your instructions, they are under orders to capture and interrogate. However … the soldiers are making that somewhat difficult."

Himika had seen the results of Gongenzaka's Duel with the lead soldier. "Let me guess … they're sealing themselves, too?"

Her aide was silent. He didn't need to go on, but he did. "Eyewitness video is already trending on social media," he said. "It's … well. You should see for yourself."

He offered the tablet, and pointed to a series of videos. Himika pressed one at random—and instantly felt green.

There was no audio—either by accident or design—and the footage jumped all over the place, as if whoever was holding the camera was themselves running scared. Perhaps that was for the best, in any case; the headmistress felt sick as she watched three soldiers sprint into a fleeing crowd, the sword-shaped blades of their Duel Disks—so like the old Academia in their shape, but so very different in their orientation—swinging and hacking away at anyone within their reach. Occasionally, they passed through flesh and bone, and the affected person would open their mouth wide in a silent scream, before flashing into purple light and shrinking into a slim, rectangular shape.

Himika had seen those shapes far too many times not to know what they were.

"There's a dozen more like it," said Nakajima quietly, "and probably a dozen more for each one we haven't yet seen." He bowed his head. "If that's true, we could be looking at hundreds of casualties already."

She turned to Nakajima. "Has LDS been evacuated?" she demanded.

Her aide nodded. "Some skeleton contingents of security, but that's it," he said.

"Good. Have them regroup and deploy at every entrance to LDS, down to the service hatches." She began issuing orders to any personnel her ice-blue gaze could zero in on. "Transfer all lockdown protocols to my private terminal. I want all access points sealed off at once, but I still want manual overrides in place."

The technician cocked his head. "Manual overrides?" he repeated. "Are you saying you want these soldiers to—?"

"Precisely." The fresh lipstick on Himika's smirking lips glinted like a bloody blade in the sun. "Precisely."

Several kilometers away, Sawatari Shingo was in trouble. The soldiers he was fighting had wasted no time in unloading a barrage of effect damage on him. By the time they'd each used a Hound Dog to bring out the Chaos Giants he'd been running from for the past fifteen minutes (Level 10: ATK 4500/DEF 3000), his LP had been reduced to 2800—manageable, but not the sort of disadvantage he'd wanted to face before even taking his turn.

He rubbed at the bruises on his numb skin. Shingo knew it was only hard-light that was responsible for the hits he'd taken, but anything solid still had its hazards, and Solid Vision could replicate cold environments enough that prolonged exposure to even these carried a risk of frostbite. He bit back a curse—it wasn't his fault that the ice sector of Wonder Quartet had activated here, just his bad luck.

And talking of bad luck, his hand wasn't much better—nothing but monsters to speak of. He'd been hoping for at least one Spell, but the only thing his hand assured him of right now was a bunch of weaker targets for those Chaos Giants to feast on. Summoning too many would mean the first of those mechanical monstrosities would seal his doom, thanks to that multi-attack effect they possessed—but Summoning only one would ensure that the second one would finish him off.

It wasn't good. But Shingo took one look at the shivering girl behind him—practically dancing in place to keep herself moving, keep herself warm—and knew he had to do whatever he could to protect her.

He frowned. He could have sworn he'd seen this girl somewhere before. Possibly she was a Duelist he'd seen at a tournament, but there was no way she'd Dueled him; they were in a completely different age group. But it was a question he could wait to address till later. He had much more pressing things on his mind now—

"DRAW!"

—like the card he'd just turned over in his fingers. Instantly, Shingo's mind began to work faster than it had in months, ever since his Duel with Z-ARC. I can use this! he thought. I might even be able to … yes …

"Here goes!" he cried, placing a pair of cards either end of his blade. "With my Scale 0 Abyss Actor – Mellow Madonna and my Scale 9 Abyss Actor – Twinkle Little Star, I'm going to Set the Pendulum Scale!"

He was pleased to hear the soldiers murmur in confusion about this. "Scale 0?!" one of them repeated.

"No one's ever used a Scale 0," said the other, almost reverently. "Not since … him."

Sawatari conveniently neglected to mention that Z-ARC was the reason he'd had Mellow Madonna commissioned; a generous donation from his father to LDS had sweetened that particular deal. But there was no disguising his smug look as the twin ice-blue lights shone down upon the field, each bearing half of the Scale he was about to use: one, a morose-looking one-eyed girl wearing a witch's hat and ballerina's tutu as shocking pink as her bobbed hair; the other, a curvaceous woman in an expensive-looking black dress, with enough pink hair and lavender skin on her person that she could have been Twinkle Little Star's mother.

"Mellow Madonna's Pendulum effect!" Lightning crackled around Shingo—painful, but not nearly as debilitating as it would be if it had been the real thing. "By paying a thousand Life Points, I can add another Abyss Actor Pendulum Monster from my Deck to my hand!"

The monster he'd chosen was slipped into his hand before his LP had even finished falling to 1800. "And now, ladies and gentlemen—put your hands together as I PENDULUM SUMMON!" Sawatari cried, raising his hands to the sky. "Presenting! Abyss Actor – Big Star! Abyss Actor – Funky Comedian! Abyss Actor – Wild Hope! Abyss Actor – Devil Heel! And, just because I can, everyone's favorite leading lady—Abyss Actor – Pretty Heroine!"

Five multicolored bolts of lightning crashed down upon the frozen road, leaving spider webs in the sheets of ice that layered the asphalt. From each one came a face that could not have been more different from its brethren: a pink-haired, purple-skinned man in his prime wearing a spiky black suit, holding Mellow Madonna aloft from below with a single hand as if to show off his strength (Level 7: ATK 2500/DEF 1800), and a green-haired, perky-looking teenager (Level 4: ATK 1500/DEF 1000) whose pigtails swirled in the air like a hurricane as she took up position next to Twinkle Little Star, and a tall, dark desperado in garish blue and gold standing in between them (Level 4: ATK 1600/DEF 1200), and right in front of Shingo.

Among these two monsters emerged a pair of even more monstrous Summons: each of them as flabby, eyeless, and misshapen as the other. The larger of the two horrors flexed its muscular arms, baring dark red teeth (Level 8: ATK 3000/DEF 2000), while its smaller companion let fly with a laugh that befitted its round belly, spreading all four of its yellowed arms wide (Level 1: ATK 300/DEF 200). Shingo stood between them both, a cocky smile on his face as he gestured to each of his monsters in turn.

"Funky Comedian's effect activates if it's Normal or Special Summoned," he explained, watching the sigils on both his monsters begin to glow, "and gains 300 ATK for each Abyss Actor monster I control until the end of the turn! And the same goes for his best pal, Devil Heel—only instead of gaining ATK, its effect allows me to target a monster my opponent controls, and make it lose 1000 ATK for each of those Abyss Actors! So! Take that Chaos Giant down to size, boys!"

He stabbed his finger at the nearest monster, and as if the sight of the metal behemoth was the punch line to some joke, the two obese monsters laughed out loud, their voices booming even in the silence of the frozen wasteland. The air distorted around their mouths, then the field, and finally the Chaos Giant towering over all but its companion—until suddenly, a discordant shrieking noise rent the air: the monster's metal innards were twisting asunder, buckling from the sheer force of the monsters' glee.

"How's that for a side-splitter?" Shingo smirked, gesturing to the point gauges above the monsters' heads; Funky Comedian was flexing what little muscle it had—no doubt because it too had just seen its 1800 ATK—while the Chaos Giant, now sparking and shuddering where it stood in sharp contrast, had been reduced to a big fat zero.

Perfect. "Next—my Wild Hope's effect! Once per turn, I can make it gain 100 ATK for each different Abyss Actor monster on my field! Since I've got a full spread, that means a full 500 ATK! And then," he added, watching the point gauge above his monster rise to 2100 as it adjusted something on the pistol in its grip, "I'll activate Funky Comedian's second effect!" he shouted. "By forfeiting its attack this turn, I can target another Abyss Actor I control, and make it gain Funky Comedian's ATK—every last point of it! So I'll target my Devil Heel!"

As if in response, the monster threw back its head and guffawed in thunderous laughter again, expanding and towering over his fellow demons with every passing second. Eventually, it stood almost waist-high with the powered-down Chaos Giant—its ATK now sitting squarely at 4800. That sort of strength was not something you wanted to see run over your own monster—and Shingo was pleased to see the soldiers agreed with him; one of them had taken a couple steps backwards, nearly slipping on the ice-covered road, and his silver helm didn't cover enough of his face to conceal his shock at the sudden reversal.

About time these people started showing me the proper respect, he thought. I'll save him for last—as a thank-you.

"Battle Phase!" screamed Shingo. "Pretty Heroine—attack Chaos Giant!" The demon girl giggled coyly, winking her one eye at the soldier—and suddenly she was a blur of gymnastic grace, sprinting across the ice so quickly she might have been skating. Halfway across, she twisted into a series of handsprings—one, two, three—and soared so high on the third that when she stabbed out with her legs, she plowed straight through Chaos Giant's chest as well, cleaving the monster in two. Pretty Heroine hit the ground in a three-point stance at the same time as the mammoth machine's severed torso; its disembodied legs followed suit a long moment later, and only through sheer luck did Shingo avoid falling square on his backside from the force of the impact.

The soldier controlling the fallen Chaos Giant, however, did just that—and judging from the grimace on his mouth, Shingo had a suspicion that the luckless man's LP gauge, now dropping to 2500, had translated every last point of damage into a broken tailbone. He wouldn't be sitting down for a while after that.

"Next!" he cried. "Big Star—attack directly!" But the monster was already moving, engaged in a twirling midair dance with Mellow Madonna that was fast becoming a blur. Suddenly, she loosed Big Star as if throwing a loaded sling, turning him into a veritable wall of whirling black spikes. The soldier had no time to react; Big Star careened into him with enough force to send him sprawling against a frozen-over car, which crumpled against his weight. The crunch of flesh and bone hitting metal head-on was quickly drowned out by the soldier's LP gauge hitting zero.

One down. And good news became better still for Shingo; the soldier's unconscious body had shifted the ice atop the car he'd hit, causing it to slide off the roof. Buried in that roof was an instantly familiar sparkling rectangle.

Ignoring the cold that stabbed at his throat, he crossed over to the curb as quickly as his numb legs would let him. He didn't care if the soldier had seen or not—he had plenty of problems as it was, chief among them a 4800 ATK monster who was rubbing its enormous hands together, giggling gormlessly to itself as if anxious to join the fun.

The Action Card sat half-submerged in the cascade of ice behind the car. Shingo plucked it out—and grinned. He'd been hoping for something that would boost his monsters' ATK, but what he'd just picked up was even better.

First, however: "Abyss Actor – Devil Heel! Attack the remaining Chaos Giant!" The purple monstrosity bayed with glee, sprinting towards the huge machine in an earthshaking stampede. By the time it rammed into the Chaos Giant, it had gathered enough momentum to smash right through an armored leg without even slowing down, causing the machine to overbalance and topple to the road. A very final BOOM detonated from somewhere in the monster's innards, enveloping it in flames and finishing it for good before Devil Heel could get another strike in.

The soldier had nothing now—no monsters on his field, and nothing else he could use to defend himself. All he had was 3700 LP and, from what Shingo could tell, a deep desire to run. But running led straight to Action Cards when Action Fields were brought into play—and he knew from personal experience that the most dangerous Duelists to face were those who felt trapped in a corner. So he couldn't take any chances—he had to strike now.

The soldier coughed—winded, but still dry. He hadn't lost that much LP that it hurt to even breathe. But he seemed resigned to his fate—no, that wasn't right, Shingo thought. Even from here, he could see the mad smirk twisting across the man's mouth. He could only imagine what sort of insanity lurked in his eyes, hidden under that helm.

"This … changes nothing," the soldier was saying. He couldn't have been older than eighteen. "Finish me off, then. It will do you little good. I know what sort of Action Card you found. I know you're ready right now to use it."

He stood up straight. "But I am Ædonai," he declared. "I am one amongst many. Unum in multis. We are Ædonai! We are many—together! Multi in unum! What we do here today is only the first step of—!"

Shingo didn't even bat an eye at the strange word. It wasn't where his head was at right now. "Okay—you know what? You're giving me a headache screaming that nonsense," he shot back, not even caring that the soldier was ranting and raving over him. "I was planning on leaving you in enough shape to actually talk, but if that's what you're going to sound like, then I don't think there's anything left to say!

"So! Abyss Actor – Wild Hope!" he cried. "Attack his Life Points directly! And if I follow up with the Action Spell: Wonder Chance"—he slipped the card he'd found in all that ice inside his Duel Disk—"I can target a monster I control, and make it attack once again—which means you're finished! NOW!"

Wild Hope withdrew both of its guns from its holsters, twirling them round his fingers in the elaborate dance of a classic gunslinger. Three seconds later—BLAM—BLAM—it had moved like lightning, drilling two rounds right through the soldier, still boasting at the top of his lungs about whatever the Ædonai were and why they were here, why they would win … Shingo wasn't really listening. He didn't really care anymore.

But a moment later, he recoiled—the soldier's toppling body, his LP now at zero, was glowing with purple light. Shingo realized what it was just before he scrabbled backwards, forcing Kakimoto and the girl back with him—

FLASH.

Then dark purple became bright blue, and all was quiet once more.

Shingo exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. It came out as a giant cloud of white vapor in the cold stillness of this Action Field.

"Ugh … Sawatari?"

Kakimoto was stirring. It looked as though he'd been momentarily knocked unconscious at some point in the Duel without Shingo's noticing. His eyes were slightly out of focus, and blood trickled from an angry bruise on his brow.

"Kakimoto—are you all right?" Instantly Sawatari was on him, daubing the sleeve of his blazer gingerly against the wound. The blood stained, and he knew he'd have to get his shirt dry-cleaned—again—but he didn't care. He was just glad his friend was all right.

Kakimoto barely managed a nod. "What … happened?" He sounded as concussed as he looked.

"Hah … I won." It took Shingo a long time to realize what he'd just said. "I won! I finally won!" Without anyone else's help, he added in his head, but who was going to care about that? He'd just taken out two Chaos Giants—two of the strongest Duel Monsters he'd ever seen in his career—by himself!

"Wait till I tell Yamabe and Ootomo about this!" he crowed to Kakimoto. "They won't believe their ears!"

But his friend didn't answer. His eyes were more in focus now, but they were looking past Sawatari—then over his shoulder, off to his right. Shingo turned around.

The little girl he'd been protecting was setting off down the road, duffel bag in hand—and apparently unconcerned about the boys' current plight. "Hey—where do you think you're going?" Shingo demanded. "It's not safe to be out here alone! These soldiers aren't as easy to take down as I made it look, you know!"

She stopped, looked at him. "But I'm not out here alone," she said innocently, looking at Shingo as if that explained everything. Her eyes, he just now saw, were as brilliantly green as her hair.

"Besides," the girl went on, "you have more friends out here to protect than I do."

Shingo frowned. "And what's that supposed to m—"

He broke off. The girl was pointing with the hand that wasn't clutching her duffel, straight down the road.

Straight at the three Chaos Giants coming right towards them—and the very familiar Duelists they were chasing.

Ootomo knew he was doing Shingo's costume a great disservice by running away at the first Chaos Giant that had been Summoned in his Duel. The soldiers hadn't wasted any time whatsoever in bringing their strongest monsters to the field—and damaging him in the process. Under the circumstances, he supposed he was grateful to still be alive; 2200 LP wasn't bad—it could be worse, considering the strength and abilities of the monsters pursuing him. He'd even found an Action Card that he'd thought might be able to help him—assuming he could find the right time to use it, and in a way to keep it from helping his opponent as well.

But Neo New Ootomo wasn't supposed to just be running! he thought indignantly. And truth be told, he wasn't just running—he was fleeing to safety, and for more the sake of Yamabe than his own. The ice sector wasn't something you could just run across, and Yamabe had found that out to his cost only minutes ago when he'd slipped and fallen right on his hip. The pop that had followed hadn't just come from the ice cracking under his body.

So now here they were, Ootomo going as fast as he could while still supporting Yamabe's limp form piggyback over his shoulders. It had slowed him down greatly in retreating—but he was not retreating alone—

"HEY!"

Ootomo nearly injured his own hip, so quickly had he skidded to a halt—and Yamabe's extra weight meant he came within inches of overbalancing and planting his face right on an icy road. Hearing your best friend in the midst of a crisis tended to make you do that. So did hearing your best friend sound hopping mad.

And Shingo, true to form, was indeed hopping mad—literally. "Who do you think you are, wearing my clothes—huh, Ootomo?!" he bellowed, jumping up and down as if that would make his voice any louder. "I told you before—it's specially tailored to me and me alone! You'll pop the seams, running around in that!"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time!" Ootomo protested. "I wanted to go out swinging! I wanted to be a Duelist you could be proud of, Sawatari-san—"

"Borrowing my old Deck is one thing, but borrowing my old clothes is another!" Shingo blasted back at him.

"—and Neo New Ootomo does not disappoint his friends!" finished Ootomo, crossing his arms in finality.

There was a long beat. "Neo New Ootomo needs to look in a mirror," said a voice he didn't recognize.

Ootomo looked around before he saw a green-haired girl next to Sawatari. She wasn't even a teenager, which surprised him—and what on earth was she wearing? Those clothes weren't nearly enough to keep her warm in this Action Field! Those shoes might as well be socks—she'd get frostbite in those!

Yet the girl didn't even look bothered by the chill in the air. "You look ridiculous," she huffed, crossing her arms.

"Like I'm going to take lip from a girl in a leotard!" Ootomo shot back. "You want to show respect! This costume belongs to Sawatari Shingo!" Then, just as an afterthought, "It's historically accurate," he added with a sniff.

The girl looked to Shingo, then back to Ootomo. "More like a historical accident," she said disdainfully. "At least my costume actually does something besides make me look pretty!"

Ootomo felt his eye begin to twitch. "That does it," he growled. "You want to see what New New Ootomo can do?! All right—DRAW!"

He spun round a full hundred and eighty degrees, facing the trio of soldiers who'd been pursuing him all this way. He flicked his fingers, turning the card in his hand so he could see—

Perfect! "Because I control no monsters, I can activate the Spell Card: Yōsenjū Divine Oroshi!" Ootomo crowed, showing it to the soldiers—just to rub it in—before he placed it in his Duel Disk. "I place 1 Yōsenjū Sarenshinchū and Yōsenjū Urenshinchū each from my Deck into my Pendulum Zones, and destroy them during the End Phase!"

Shingo was heard to mutter, "Wha—so that thing lets him set the Pendulum Scale with just one card?! Where was that when I needed it against Yūya that one time?!"

A muffled "ouch!" told Ootomo that the girl had just elbowed Shingo right in the leg. He paid the exchange little more attention than that, though, as the skies above him had already begun to swirl with an eerie wind. Then—BOOM—a giant torī gate, carved from solid stone and bearing two roughly hewn masks of different colors and faces upon their pillars, dropped from the heavens with enough force to shatter the icy field, and the road beneath it.

"Urenshinchū's Pendulum Effect!" Ootomo went on, gesturing to the red, tusked onī mask behind and to his left. "If I have another Yōsenju card in my Pendulum Zone, I can make its Scale become 11 until the end of the turn! And that," he added, as the winds around him howled louder and louder, "lets me PENDULUM SUMMON!"

The flurries of snow that had heretofore been lazily stirring in the air now began to multiply, tossed about from the massive drifts lining the road, and turning the street into ground zero of a veritable blizzard. Ootomo bit his lip, accepting the sudden chill in his body, letting the passion of Dueling heat him from the inside like a furnace—

"First! Yōsenju Tsujikirikaze and Yōsenju Magatsusenran!" he shouted. Twin tornadoes sliced from the skies and alighting in front of him, revealing a duo of weasel-like figures so unlike each other as to be practically day and night. One was lean, white-furred and calm, one paw upon the katana thrust into its sash in a battōjutsu-ready stance (Level 4: ATK 1000/DEF 0); the other was almost sable in color, and far more ferocious-looking (Level 6: ATK 2000/DEF 100). The beaded necklace it wore thrashed about its chest as it bayed at the still-swirling skies, revealing ripping fangs that looked only slightly less menacing than the blade it brandished at the soldiers—

"And now, O wind-clad chiefs of phantoms!" Ootomo chanted. "With your raging cloaks, gouge these lands!"

The skies, once bluish-gray before the blizzard had blown up around the Duel, had now taken on dual, equally menacing shades of red and green. The wind shrieked around the soldiers, amplified by the smothering snow and ice until it formed a wailing dirge:

"Come forth!" Ootomo brought his hands together. "Mayōsenjū Daibakaze! Mayōsenjū Hitotsumenomuraji!"

WHOOSH.

How the stone pillars of his Pendulum Scale didn't sunder was a mystery—and yet the two masses of red and green light that had fallen like meteors had landed atop their summits without even making a sound. Ootomo, however, knew better; every monster in his Deck was modeled from the kamaitachi of legend—the spirits of the very winds themselves—and in no way was this more evident than in how the two monsters behind him had effortlessly dispelled the blizzard just by emerging into existence.

He saw them in the corner of each eye, growling and baring their fangs at the Chaos Giants, who had been forced to hunker down to avoid being blown away, such was the strength of the winds they were generating from their bodies. To his right was the verdant Daibakaze (Level 10: ATK 3000/DEF 300), snarling and streamlining its flaming fur with every second that passed, while the crimson Hitotsumenomuraji thrashed this way and that to his left (Level 10: ATK 2000/DEF 3000) as if chained by some invisible force, but knowing full well its release was nigh.

"Because Daibakaze and Hitotsumenomuraji were Special Summoned, I can activate their effects!" said Ootomo triumphantly. "By targeting a combined total of three cards on the field—two with Daibakaze, and a third with Hitotsumenomuraji—I can return each target to the hand! So I'll target all three Chaos Giants on the field! GO!"

At his command, the two living wind monsters seemed to turn translucent for a single second—as if the winds that formed them had intensified so suddenly, and with such power, that whatever force had bound them in this single form was momentarily dispelled. In that moment, incredible winds had ripped forth from their bodies, hurtling straight for the gargantuan machines that faced them in less time than it took to draw breath.

They didn't have a chance; the twin gales scattered them all as if they were little more than tin toys, casting them into the air and past the horizon. "Next, I activate Tsujikirikaze's effect, and target a Yōsenjū monster on my field. Then"—pause for drama, Ootomo thought—"I can make that target gain 1000 ATK until the end of the turn! So I target Hitotsumenomuraji!" A bit of swordplay from Tsujikirikaze brought its blade to bear directly on the scarlet beast; moments later, its point gauge had risen to 3000—point for point the evil twin of Daibakaze.

Ootomo decided then that the time was right to play his secret weapon. "And now," he grinned, "I'll activate the Action Card I found earlier!" He conveniently neglected to mention that he'd only found it when, in his haste to flee, he'd brushed against a piece of ice on the road out of sheer chance. "It's a little something called Starlight Up—and by playing it, every monster on the field gains 100 ATK times its own Level!"

Magatsusenran and Tsujikirikaze leveled their own blades at the soldiers—the lead of whom seemed to realize exactly how much trouble he was in. For their ATK gauges had increased to 2600 and 1400—and he, apparently, could do math. It was Daibakaze and Hitotsumenomuraji, however, that commanded his subordinates' attention: both wind demons had thrown their heads back and let fly with yowling roars that chilled the spine much more than their 4000 ATK ever could. They too, apparently, could do math.

So could Ootomo—surprisingly—but this wasn't to say he'd known exactly what he was doing. In his haste to flee, he'd forgotten that the Action Card he'd found wouldn't have worked on Chaos Giants anyway—even if he'd been worried that it would have increased their ATK as well. But he didn't want to take the chance that something even bigger—if such cards existed—might have been waiting for him if those monsters had been dealt with. Fortunately, no such threat had appeared, and once he was sure that his opponents' fields had been cleared, he'd acted.

So—"Battle Phase!" Ootomo cried. "Tsujikirikaze! Magatsusenran! Pick a target—any target! Attack directly!"

He didn't need to tell them twice; the two weasels had rushed forward before he could even think of turning to run. There was a flash of steel—and then another—and suddenly both monsters were ten feet behind the lead soldier instead of being ten feet in front of Ootomo, where they'd been just a second ago. There was no other indication that the soldier had been struck save for the LP gauge squealing inside his Duel Disk—and as if this had been his death knell, the soldier collapsed face first on the ground and did not stir.

Ootomo gestured to his remaining two monsters. He didn't say anything—he just pointed at them, and then at the remaining soldiers. Daibakaze and Hitotsumenomuraji got the idea well enough, though, and they vanished into the skies with even greater alacrity than ever. But the winds that swirled around them did not disappear—nor were they actually swirling; they were blowing at Ootomo's back now, louder and faster and more biting than any north wind.

He smirked. "I'd bail if I were you, boys." There was no need to raise his voice—not yet. But it wasn't as though his warning would have helped the soldiers; the skies were already turning an ugly mixture of reddish-green.

For them, it was already far too late.

Among all the atmospheric phenomena that affect the planet, few of them are as quick, wide-ranging, and altogether destructive as a derecho. Cloaked under the guise of a particularly severe thunderstorm, these windstorms seem to strike within minutes of formation, leaving almost as quickly as they came. But in those scant minutes, road signs can be twisted as if worked in a hot forge. Trees can be felled with the ease of a giant plucking it out of the ground. Any dwelling that does not take measures to protect itself will be severely damaged—or swept away outright. And while derechos do not possess the quickness and precision of lightning or a tornado, nor the rawness and dread of an earthquake or tsunami, the image of cars and homes being tossed and twisted asunder by the force of nothing but air carries a force unique to itself—a feeling of powerlessness against Nature and her many displays of strength, and a prayer that she never learn to directly focus such strength upon a target of her choosing.

In other words, the same exact thing Ootomo had done just now.

Or, put more succinctly still:

WHAM.

In a single astonishing instant, the bluish-white wastelands of Wonder Quartet's ice sector had turned into a world-consuming vortex of red and green—endlessly intertwined, endlessly rushing forward with the otherworldly howl of a possessed freight train. The blizzard that had been swirling around the Duel was carried with it, and all manner of ice and snow—from the smallest flakes and icicles to the flash-frozen sheets that covered whole vehicles and office buildings—swiftly followed in its wake. The luckless soldiers were right in the thick of it, and Ootomo barely saw them over the crook of his elbow that protected his eyes and face: they were suspended in midair, the winds slicing at their uniforms and the bodies underneath ad infinitum.

He didn't need to hear the shriek of their LP gauges being depleted to know that he'd won. But it didn't matter whether he did or not; no sooner did the winds begin to die down than little rectangles of light had appeared on their arms—on the Duel Disks they wore, and the strange devices that they wore on their other arm as well—

Ootomo had hunkered down to protect himself and Yamabe, still draped over his shoulders like the heaviest cloak in the world, and it was perhaps this added weight anchoring him to the field that saved him from being carried away as well. But he still had to cover his face from the two-headed onslaught of Daibakaze and Hitotsumenomuraji, which meant that he was aware of only a trio of purple flashes, and a hint of flickering blue from each one. Then—too quickly to be natural in any way—the windstorm was over, and at last he lowered his arm to survey the results.

He gasped—he could not help himself. His monsters' attacks had left furrows in the ice from the sheer speed at which they'd moved. It looked as though someone had drilled through the earth, but flush against the icy road, obliterating the wintry conditions in a ten-foot-wide stripe that extended straight out from Ootomo, for as far as his eyes could see. No trace was left of his opponents, save for the bus-sized footprints of their Chaos Giants.

Ootomo choked out his next words through a thundering heart. "My Deck … did that?"

Sawatari Shingo was too awed at the destruction wrought by the Yōsenjūs he'd once wielded to care about much else. But eventually his senses caught up with him, and he'd rounded upon Ootomo with a sudden twitch in his eye.

"What do you mean, your Deck?" he said testily, feeling a vein throb in his brow. "Friendly reminder who had that Deck commissioned in the first place, Ootomo! At least give credit where credit is due!"

But all of a sudden, he was grinning. Shingo couldn't be mad at his friend forever. After all, had it not been his genius that had convinced Ootomo—and Yamabe and Kakimoto with him—to study under his wing and become formidable Duelists in their own right? What had happened here was merely the result of his efforts bearing fruit!

Kakimoto was still groggy; the tumult of that last attack hadn't worked wonders on his ability to stay conscious. But the faint little smile Shingo saw gracing his lips told him everything: he was just as proud of Ootomo as the rest of them—and not a little bit jealous, perhaps, that he alone of them had had the chance to prove themselves in combat.

Only the nameless girl seemed disappointed. "Phooey," she muttered, hands on hips. "I didn't even get a turn."

Shingo was about to comment on how she ought to be happy that she was still alive after being pursued by five Chaos Giants, but then his Duel Disk chimed—someone was calling him.

He recognized the code prefix immediately, and answered the call more quickly still. "H-headmistress Himika!"

That was all he was able to stammer out before Himika's voice made his surroundings much more chilly than they already were. "Sawatari," she said. "I was able to tap into the security cameras inside the RSV generators near your position. I saw the Duels that you and Ootomo put on against these invaders."

There was a pause. "I hope you've all learned your lesson."

Shingo flashed a winning smile. "Well, you can't run away from everything," he said. "Sometimes, you've just got to stand and fight for what you believe in. And for me, that's my friends."

"Friends who have you to thank for the scrapes they themselves escaped," Himika said coolly, wiping the smile right off Shingo's face, "and could have avoided outright if they had just listened and taken shelter rather than try to be a hero. We're not fighting Academia here—these are professionals. And they don't discriminate by age."

Shingo gulped as the connotations sank in. "So do Maiami City a favor and pick your battles next time, won't you? If your luck were to suddenly run out, I would … not relish having to break the bad news to your father."

He found it impossible to resist nodding. "Y-yes, Headmistress."

"Good." An instant later, Himika was all business. "I need all four of you to take shelter now. The invaders are making for the outskirts of Maiami City in three separate directions. One of the paths they are taking is due to pass your position in minutes. If they see you, they won't bother Dueling you next time."

"They're heading away from the city?" Shingo frowned. "Well, then, aren't they retreating?" he asked hopefully. "Doesn't that mean we're winning?"

He knew from the length of the pause that he'd said the wrong thing. "No," said Himika. "No, they are not."

Before Shingo could react, the screen of his Duel Disk flared to life, and several different videos began to play at once. He saw Gongenzaka staring down at a huddled soldier, whom he'd obviously just beaten; no less than four sprawled on the airport tarmac below a victorious Kurosaki, and a group of five more soldiers in what looked like the mall, vanquished by Sora—Sora, of all people! he thought with jealousy.

Suddenly, taking out two Chaos Giants by himself didn't seem like something worth bragging about.

But he soon became distracted by something else completely: the soldiers had pressed something on the devices they wore on their right wrists. Their lips were moving, shouting something Shingo couldn't make out—but it didn't matter: seconds later, those devices were glowing purple—and so were they—

FLASH.

His heart skipped a beat: all ten of those soldiers had sealed themselves into cards. What happened next only made him more confused—the cards of the soldiers glowed brilliant blue, and disappeared into thin air.

"They teleported away after sealing themselves into cards?" he murmured in wonderment.

"Precisely." Shingo jumped—he'd forgotten he was still on the line with Himika. "Why they would do such a thing is only one question I have. But a more pressing one must be answered: if our soldiers are indeed from the Fusion Dimension, as they appear to be … and if we are indeed winning the fight against them to the point they have sounded a retreat, as you say … then why are they not fleeing back to the Fusion Dimension?"

Shingo considered this—but only for a moment: that was all the time he had before a sudden BOOM split the skies in twain and left him momentarily deaf.

He picked himself up from the Solid Vision ice, scrabbling to his feet with difficulty. "What in the name of—?!"

BOOM.

This time he saw it: a golden missile of light had streaked through the silver-gray skies, slicing through the overcast clouds effortlessly before disappearing with the speed of a jet fighter.

What the hell?! "Himika? Did you see that?!"

"See wh—" But a burst of static was all that answered him: the line had suddenly cut off. At that exact moment, a third, much quieter BOOM had reached Shingo's ears—as if something in the distance had suddenly exploded.

Even before he'd traced a finger in the sky, plotting the missile's likely course and destination, Shingo felt his heart sinking in his breast. Even as his calculations told him what he already knew, he could feel the dread seeping into his bones. There could be no doubt, he knew: those soldiers hadn't been retreating at all—they'd been regrouping.

All at once, the magnitude of this invasion hit Sawatari Shingo like a ton of bricks. The Chaos Giants had only been a plot to trick the Lancers—to catch them out of position, far too late to respond to the real attack. He, his cohorts, and perhaps all of Maiami City, had never been the target—their true focus had been on the Leo Duel School itself.

And these bastards had gone through all this effort, he'd grimly realized, to start bombing the place to smithereens.

A/N: I don't name my chapters; I don't like intentionally giving away too many elements of a story. But I did consider, for a moment, calling this one "Why the Action Cards In Strongest Duelist Yūya! Are Horrifically OP Even For Action Cards." That's twice I've used them to end a Duel with explosive results so far.

… I should start a pool on which chapter will feature Duel number three.

Hope you're enjoying the action so far. Thanks for reading! – K