The observation deck of Kaiba's blimp thrummed with the restless murmur of duelists awaiting their turns. The sea of clouds stretched endlessly outside the glass walls, illuminated by the pale glow of the moon. Somewhere below, Domino City slept in peace, unaware that gods were about to stir in the skies above.
In a quiet corner away from the others, Marik stood with his arms crossed, the faintest smirk on his lips. The dyed-black hair of his "Namu" disguise concealed him well, though his calculating golden-brown eyes betrayed the storm of schemes swirling in his mind. Odion, his loyal servant, stood before him with the posture of a soldier awaiting orders.
Marik's voice was low, silk wrapped around steel. "The time has come, Odion. Our deception must hold. From this moment on, you are Marik Ishtar in the eyes of the world."
Odion bowed his head, the tattoos upon his face shadowed under the blimp's cold lights. "As you command, Master Marik. But… the Pharaoh is here, and so are his allies. Yugi's sharp eyes will pierce through lies if we falter."
Marik's grin widened. "That is why we shall use a weapon so convincing it will shatter all suspicion. The Pharaoh believes only one man could wield a God card—so you will wield it."
With deliberate care, Marik reached into his cloak and withdrew a card sealed within a black case. He lifted it as if presenting a sacred relic, and the oppressive energy that radiated from it made even Odion's stoic expression flicker.
"The Sky Dragon of Osiris… known to the ignorant as Slifer the Sky Dragon," Marik whispered. The ancient Egyptian script glowed faintly on its surface, as though the beast's gaze stared out from within.
Odion's eyes narrowed. "You… would entrust me with this?" His voice held awe, but also unease. "Master, this card is one of the three God Monsters. If I summon it… the Pharaoh will surely believe I am the true you."
"Exactly," Marik said smoothly, pressing the case into Odion's hand. "The Pharaoh will prepare for a battle against one God card. When the time comes, I will crush him with two. Slifer… and Ra. The Pharaoh will not know despair until I strip away his hope with the very power he thought he understood."
Odion closed his eyes briefly, the weight of the card heavy in his palm. He had sworn his life to protect Marik since childhood, but this plan carried risk far greater than anything before.
"Master," Odion began carefully, "you place faith in deception and strength. But there are dangers within our circle. Jason…"
At that name, Marik's eyes flickered—not with anger, but with something softer, almost reminiscent.
"Jason," Marik repeated, his voice tinged with memory. "He is no threat, Odion. After my father was struck down by the Pharaoh, it was Jason who guided me in the shadows. He trained me, sharpened me, taught me to wield my will as a blade. Without him, my path might have faltered."
Odion's brow furrowed. "And yet his loyalties—"
Marik raised a hand, silencing him. "Jason's loyalty has already been proven. He has strengthened the Rare Hunters, expanded our reach. It was through his efforts that countless duelists were drawn into Battle City, making it simple for our hunters to infiltrate the tournament unnoticed. He has given us opportunity, resources, and power."
For a fleeting moment, Marik's expression softened—rare warmth hidden beneath his disguise. "No, Odion. Jason is more than an ally. He is one of the few I trust without question."
Odion frowned, but bowed his head in obedience. "If that is your will, then I will obey. But my eyes remain upon him."
Marik stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Do not trouble yourself further. All you must do is hold the Pharaoh's gaze with Slifer". For a moment, something softened in Odion's stern features. "Your trust honors me, Master Marik. I shall not fail you."
Marik smiled thinly, satisfied. "Good. Now… it is time for your round."
A hush swept the arena as the next duel prepared to begin, but before the crowd could see him, Odion was already making his way toward the blimp's dueling platform. He had just parted ways with Marik in the shadows below deck, the weight of his master's command pressing like iron across his shoulders. The violet cloak draped over him swayed in the wind as he ascended the narrow steps, golden accessories glinting faintly like desert fire beneath the moonlight.
Each step was deliberate, his back straight, his hands steady—every motion precise, almost holy in its restraint. When he finally emerged into view, the hood cast a daggered shadow across his face, hiding the truth of his identity. His expression barely moved, but there was a cold stillness in his gaze, as if a vault door had been shut tight inside him.
Across the arena, Joey Wheeler waited—blond hair snapping in the breeze, shoulders rolled, jaw set, eyes narrowed. Gone was the goofball grin; in its place was the battle mask he'd earned through scars and close calls. The two duelists locked eyes beneath the glare of the stadium lights, one blazing with fire, the other shrouded in silence.
Turn 1 — Joey
A crisp snap echoed as Joey set his opening rhythm. Summon: Gearfried the Iron Knight (ATK 1800, Level 4). The steel warrior dropped into a crouch, crimson optics igniting; armor plates slid into place with hydraulic certainty. Two cards slipped face-down beside him, glossy under the blimp's spotlights. Joey gave a curt nod—no showboating, just grit. Brows cut deep, mouth a hard line, a pulse hammering at his temple—the look of a fighter who'd bled to earn composure.
Turn 2 — Odion
The cloaked figure drew like a priest unveiling an icon. Spell: Temple of the Kings blossomed—golden colonnades and drifting hieroglyphs wrapping the arena in a hush of ancient breath. The faintest tightening at the corner of Odion's mouth suggested satisfaction.
Two traps set in symmetrical precision began to thrum at once beneath the Temple's sanction. A plate cracked; light bled through.
Trap Monster: Metal Reflect Slime (DEF 3000, Level 10) surged up, a towering mirror-ooze whose chrome surface warped the stadium into haunted masks. The other face-down remained coiled—promise held in stone.
Turn 3 — Joey
Joey's draw flashed in the light. He slid a defender into place—Set Monster—then thudded a search spell onto the disk.
Reinforcement of the Army → Hayabusa Knight (ATK 1000, Level 3) added to hand. Cards straightened in his grip; he held the end of his turn like a breath, conserving heat for later.
From the stands: Yugi's steady gaze didn't waver; Connor's eyes narrowed in appraisal; Matt spun a silver coin along his knuckles, grin easy but eyes alert.
Turn 4 — Odion
The Temple's glow deepened as Odion drew. A third set card found its mark; the golden halls allowed it to unfurl immediately—stone peeling to let a serpent hiss into being.
Trap Monster: Embodiment of Apophis #1 (ATK 1600, Level 4).
At once, Odion offered it to the sanctum. Emerald fire banded around a waiting beast as the sacrifice dissolved.
Tribute Summon: Mystical Beast of Serket (ATK 2500 / DEF 2000, Level 6).
Serket strode out of incense like a jackal-scorpion idol—tail arched, mandibles steaming.
A bead of sweat tipped down Joey's cheek; his eyes hardened to a stubborn squint. Serket's shadow lifted—then halted mid-lunge as chain-links of light snapped tight.
Kunai with Chain tightened around the chimera, forcing its stance to guard: Serket to DEF 2000. Joey's set flipped under the pressure of the earlier turns—Nimble Momonga (DEF 1000)—ripped to spirit confetti by Serket's earlier strike through the coils of timing. A soft green flare split and multiplied; two more Momongas scurried into defense, and life knitted through Joey's spine.
A curtain of white then fell across the field, pinning the tempo with quiet severity: Swords of Revealing Light. Attacks would be frozen under that radiance for three of Odion's turns. The Temple flickered as if a draft had touched an old flame.
Turn 5 — Joey
He drew, exhaled, and glanced toward the railing—Yugi's eyes met his, a wordless anchor. The line between Joey's brows eased just enough to let in air.
One spirit-squirrel bowed out in a burst of light. Tribute Summon: Jinzo (ATK 2400, Level 6). Copper cables arced along the cyborg's skull; the arena's trap-lights hiccuped and died. All traps—negated. The towering Slime sagged from monster-form back into Odion's back row, a mirror without a body.
Momentum pounded in Joey's ears. Pot of Greed peeled two fresh answers from his deck. Axe of Despair sank into Jinzo's grip—an obsidian frown with weight.
Jinzo → ATK 3400.
Gearfried swiveled down into a tight guard, servos locking—Defense Position—as Joey braced behind the glow of the Swords.
In the stands, Matt caught his coin, never glancing at the face. Connor's chin dipped in a single, precise nod. Yugi's fingers interlaced at his chest, knuckles pale with belief.
Turn 6 — Odion
The Temple seemed to breathe with Odion's draw, relief and resolve in the same exhale. A set card slid home—measured, inevitable. Serket's plated ribs expanded; the beast inhaled the scent of destiny.
The arena air tightened. Odion raised his palm toward the altar.
The sanctum answered with a law older than ink: Temple of the Kings + Mystical Beast of Serket—a sacrament of offering. Serket dissolved into glyph-fire; the Temple itself surrendered its form, both becoming a golden pathway torn open in the sky.
Three pillars of light climbed and converged. The stadium dimmed as if plunged under black water. The cloud-veil split with a forked wound, and out of it uncoiled a leviathan of red plates and ancient inscriptions. Two jaws yawned, one above the other—both charged with storms.
SLIFER THE SKY DRAGON (ATK ?, DEF ?, Level 10 — Divine-Beast).
The crowd's gasp was a living thing. Yugi's eyes widened, then sharpened. Connor's pupils pinned to needle-points. Matt's coin snapped flat in his palm; even a gambler knows when the table belongs to a god.
Letters of gold burned across every screen: ATK/DEF = cards in hand × 1000. Odion's hand count: 3.
Slifer: ATK 3000 / DEF 3000.
A second spell flowed from Odion's grip like a decree carved into stone: Card of Sanctity. The decks answered; both duelists drew until their hands swelled to six.
The sky responded in kind.
Slifer: ATK 6000 / DEF 6000.
A heavy pressure rolled over the field—an intolerable aura from the twin maw. Metal groaned; lights dimmed and brightened like struggling stars. Under that divine weight, Joey's lesser steel buckled: Gearfried's optics guttered and died, armor collapsing into scrap-sparks as if an unseen will had siphoned the fight from its frame. The same oppressive surge skinned power from the cyborg tyrant's blade—Jinzo's ATK shaved by 2000 under Slifer's crushing presence, to 1400—his edge still upturned in defiance, but dulled under heaven's stare.
Slifer flexed, plates grinding like tectonic plates. ATK 6000 held like a red sunrise that wouldn't end.
Odion's arm cut the air. The god moved.
The first maw surged downward—a meteor of crimson judgment. Jinzo (ATK 1400) raised the black axe and met the world's ending with a single, defiant stroke. The collision birthed a shockwave that bent railings and shoved dust into streamers.
Numbers screamed in the void.
6000 vs. 1400 → 4600 battle damage.
Joey's counter bled to black in a single, plunging tick.
Joey: 0 LP.
The afterimage of Slifer hung in his eyes as the dragon's form dissolved back into scarlet script and vanished into a card that pulsed once in Odion's hand and then went quiet.
For a heartbeat, there was only breath—the collective kind. Then the arena detonated into awe, fear, and the stunned joy of witnessing something older than rules.
Odion stood perfectly still, hood shadowing a face carved from restraint. The Temple's echo—a memory now—winked out like a candle in a tomb. He gathered his cards with ritual care.
Across the platform, Joey steadied his feet and straightened, chest heaving, eyes still bright. Sweat cut a clean track along his jaw. He lifted his chin just a hair, not to defy the outcome but to honor the fact that he'd stared into a storm and didn't close his eyes.
From the rail, Yugi's expression was all pride; Connor's nod was clipped, respectful; Matt finally rolled the coin again, caught it, and flashed Joey a grin.Joey had walked down from the dueling platform slowly, every step heavier than the last. His jacket clung to his shoulders, damp with sweat, his face pale under the fluorescent lights. He clenched his deck tighter than he realized, knuckles white, the sting of defeat still raw.
Before he could even sink too deep into the weight of it, Yugi was there first, hands firm on Joey's shoulders.
"Joey," Yugi said softly, voice warm but steady, "you fought with everything you had." His amethyst eyes glowed with the same trust he had shown during the duel. "You didn't back down—not even against a god. That's what makes you a true duelist."
Joey managed a crooked smile, the edges trembling. "Didn't stop me from getting fried out there." His attempt at humor fell flat, his shoulders sagging, but Yugi didn't let go.
Behind them, Connor stepped forward. His stance was upright, precise, the posture of someone who carried discipline like a second skin. He looked Joey straight in the eye, his tone firm but not unkind.
Behind them, Connor padded forward on small but steady steps, the faint sway of his blonde hair catching the arena lights. Though only five, his posture was upright, precise—an odd, practiced composure that seemed far older than his years. His bright eyes locked onto Joey's with a seriousness that left no room for doubt.
"You stood where most duelists would have collapsed," Connor said, his young voice clear, steady beyond his age. "You forced him to go all out against you and made Marik reveal their god." For a moment, his expression softened; the stern line of his mouth relaxed just enough to show warmth. "Every battle teaches something, Joey. Take what you've learned today, and the next time you face power like that, you'll be ready."
The words were simple, but they carried weight, and Joey found himself nodding—not just at the encouragement, but at the strange certainty in the boy's gaze.
Matt was last to step in, flipping his silver coin along his knuckles before letting it dance high into the air. He caught it on the back of his hand and grinned.
"You know what I saw, Joey?" Matt said, voice light but with a spark of sincerity beneath it. "I saw a guy who bet everything on the table, even knowing the odds were stacked against him. That's the kind of gamble I respect." He clapped Joey hard on the back, nearly knocking him forward. "The house brought out a god, and you still threw your chips down. You've got guts, Wheeler—and guts win games just as much as cards do."
For the first time since the duel ended, Joey let out a laugh—short, rough, but real. "Thanks, guys… guess I needed to hear that."
The three of them formed a small circle around Joey—not to shield him from the crowd exactly, but to steady him, to ground him against the echo of the loss. The arena noise dimmed in his ears, replaced by the steady presence of his friends.
Yugi's hand remained firm on his shoulder. "Joey, you can still fight for something greater. Even if you're out of the finals, Mai still needs you. We'll find a way to get her back."
Matt flipped his coin high into the air, caught it, and smirked. "You don't have to win the tournament to win her back. Sometimes the best gambles happen off the main stage. We'll play those odds together, Joey."
Joey looked down, fists tightening on his deck. "Yeah… Mai." His voice cracked just a little.
Connor stepped closer, his small figure somehow carrying the gravity of someone much older. His blonde hair glowed faintly under the blimp's lights as he lifted his head to meet Joey's eyes. "You did help us out, Joey," he said, voice clear and calm. "At least now we know what Slifer the Sky Dragon can do."
Yugi's brows furrowed, his gaze turning sharp. "You're right, Connor… seeing Slifer firsthand makes a big difference."
Connor nodded, then looked at each of them in turn. "But that's not the only god card we need to worry about. There's another one—The Winged Dragon of Ra. It's said to be the most dangerous of them all. Its power changes depending on the life force and sacrifices of its controller. It can take the attack points of monsters offered to summon it, and… if its wielder knows the secret, it can even turn life points into unstoppable strength."
Yugi's eyes widened slightly at the detail, while Matt's coin slowed in his hand, his usual grin fading into something more serious. Joey swallowed, the weight of Connor's words hitting harder than any direct attack.
Connor's gaze shifted toward the crowd, narrowing. "And I know who has it. Namu… the one pretending to be our friend. He holds Ra."
The words hung in the air like a blade. For a heartbeat, none of them moved. The roar of the crowd around them dimmed to a muffled blur, as though the world itself paused to acknowledge the weight of the claim.
Yugi's fists clenched at his sides, his voice low but sharp. "That's a serious accusation, Connor. If you're right, then all of us are in danger. But you need to give us proof." His violet eyes locked on the boy's, searching for certainty.
Connor's expression did not falter. He crossed his small arms, shoulders stiff, the kind of posture that belonged more to a soldier than a child. "Marik barely held himself back against the Russian agent," he said, voice even but carrying a thread of steel. "If he hadn't, things would have gone differently.
Matt finally tucked his coin into his pocket, his grin gone, replaced with an unreadable look. "Kid's not joking, Yugi. I've bet on liars before—I know the look of someone hiding something, and Namu… he's too smooth."
The group fell silent again, the weight of Connor's revelation pressing down on them all.
Yugi exhaled slowly, nodding once. His fists remained clenched, but there was resolve in his eyes now. "So that's where the next danger lies."
Matt's voice cut through the quiet, low and firm. "Then we'd better stack the odds in our favor before it's too late."
While the others were gathered around Joey, another figure slipped away from the sidelines.
Jason adjusted the glasses sliding down his nose as he pulled his lab coat tighter against the breeze drifting through the blimp's corridor. His dark eyes flickered back to the group for only a heartbeat—just long enough to confirm Joey was safe with his friends.
Then he turned sharply, footsteps echoing on the metal floor. He had no time for comfort or camaraderie. His own duel was approaching, and with it, unfinished business that gnawed at him like acid.
The reflection in the glass panel as he passed showed a man weighed down by secrets, his lab coat fluttering like the remnants of a life dedicated to machines and experiments rather than friendship and trust. His jaw tightened, a shadow crossing his expression.
He muttered under his breath, words lost in the hum of engines, but the intent behind them was unmistakable: This time, I'll remove my brother from the picture for good… I can't let him come back.
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