Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Lady of Dragons ❯ Millenium Interlude ( Chapter 19 )

Millennium Interlude

Night had fallen on Domino, and on the Kaibacraft 7, the only ones awake
(as far as they knew) were the ones keeping the ship aloft.  The day's duels
were over, and the survivors were in their beds, trying to rest.
     But of course, they wouldn't get what they wanted.  A very large amount
of Shadow Magic was on the loose.
     And it could be drained through dreams as easily as any other way.
     The mass of Shadow Magic bounced and rolled through the hallways, making
the guards shudder as it passed through them.  Reaching the bedrooms, it
split itself up and jumped straight into the sleeping minds.
     When Shadow Magic touches a sleeper, it goes straight for the nightmares.

     (And there she is again, trapped behind hologrammatic glass, watching
Seeker paw through his cards.  It's a recurring dream; every time, he can't find
what he's looking for and uses his Different Dimension Capsule.
     Tonight, however, without her knowing, somebody changed the script.
     Laughing, all bonds of sanity broken, Seeker shows off the head of
Exodia.  It goes straight on top of his deck.  She's doomed.
     *This isn't how it's supposed to go!*, she thinks.  But she can't stop
the dream any more than she could stop a rainstorm.
     No choices are available to her.  No Drop Off, no Time Seal or
Lightforce Sword.  Actually, she's pretty sure she has Drop Off in the deck somewhere,
but it wouldn't help right now.  She ends her turn and awaits her defeat.
     "Exodia, the Forbidden One!  OBLITERATE!"
     And there it is, the most powerful force in all of Duel Monsters.  The
usual readout of attack and defense is shown next to him - and both numbers are
infinity symbols.  She's doomed...
     Just as the energy from Obliterate is about to hit her, the Shadow Magic
exhausts itself and she slides out of the dream.   And then back into it...)

     (It's the smell that tells him where he is.  That odd, faintly metallic
smell that burned itself onto his nostrils days ago.  Merely thinking about it
brings the smell right back.
     The Wave-Motion Cannon is about to fire, and his finger is already over
the button for the Barrel Behind the Door.  Hasker is going on and on about
how he's going to kill him, but he has no clue that those will be the last words
he ever speaks.  The blood around his scars burns with a mad joy.
     Here it comes, the deadly beam of light.  3000 Life Points of damage,
enough to make either of their lives come to a screeching halt.
     He hits the button, activating his trap... or so he thinks.  But the
script is under new management, and he sees a spark jump from the button.  The
Duel Disk is malfunctioning.
     Right now, that means he misses his window to counter the Cannon's
effect.  He's dead.
     Just as the beam's about to kill him, the dream restarts.  This moment
is a gold mine for the Shadow Magic; all those angles to play!  This time, as
the Barrel catches the Cannon's shot, the back of the gun shatters and he gets
hit.
     The next time, the Barrel is twisted around as the beam hits it, and the
rebound incinerates Isabelle's basket.
     The time after that, everything goes as it should - but Hasker is still
standing, hole burned into his stomach, and he charges at Peter with his
knife...
     Morning is suddenly much too long away...)

     (How odd.  He hasn't had this dream in years.
     It's a very young version of him, running for his life from the
Blue-Eyes White Dragon.  The great monster flies over the land, waiting to destroy him
with one massive blast of the White Lightning attack.  He knows why it's
after him.
     Its master wills it.
     Normally, this dream ends with the Dark Magician stepping into their
path, Mage's Formula under one arm, and obliterating the Blue-Eyes with a wave of
its staff.  But of course, the Shadow Magic is running this show.
     He stops.  There's the Dark Magician...
     But blood-red chains have wrapped around its arms and legs, and it
shudders in pain, hanging from a cross.  The Nightmare Chains have ensnared it.
     The Blue-Eyes roars in triumph, and throws its head back, charging up
for the end of his life...
     And the dream loops on itself...)

     And the Shadow Magic bounced down the hall, touching every sleeping mind
in its passing...
     (They're coming for him, and he can barely move in the dog suit...)
     (The Gods have awoken, and their might falls on him like the edge of a
hell-forged blade...)
     (That same darkness that haunted him so long ago has broken free, and
it's eating his soul...)
     (Everyone... his daughter, his brother, his wife... his unborn child...
the Shadows are tormenting them...)
     (The Shadow Realm has broken free, and there's nothing he can do to stop
it...)
     Restful sleep was, no pun intended, a pipe dream.

     The only ones the Shadow Magic couldn't touch were the awake.  There was
a foul chill that ran down their spines, but they chalked it up to
superstition and kept working.  One man, however, didn't even feel the chill.
     Seskera, the scar on his shoulder tingling harshly from the Shadow
Magic, was taking a stroll on the deck.  Moonlight framed him in a million silver
pinpoints, and as he moved his cloak swept a wide cut through the light.  He
walked the deck like a living black hole.
     His walk was cut short when another man stood directly in his path.  
He'd expected it to happen.
     "Odion," the sorceror said without a hint of confusion.  "I see you
finally chose to drop the facade."
     The Tomb-Keeper stood straight and unmoving, arms at his sides.  "You
knew full well what I'm doing here," he replied.  "Your plan will not come to
pass as long as I live."
     A quiet smirk rose to Seskera's lips as he swept his cloak to one side.  
"Very well, then.  We shall have a mage's duel."  The darkness grew solid
around them.  "Death, unconsciousness, or submission shall be the requirement."
     Odion's expression did not change, but within him grew a knot of
tredipition.  He hadn't had much training in the art of Shadow Magic, but he knew
enough of it to stand a chance...

     Across Domino, the five access points flared briefly to life.  The
Ammitites watching over them turned their gaze heavenward, to the Kaibacraft and
its living cargo.

     "I shall let you make the first move," Seskera told his opponent, as his
cloak slid to the floor.  Raising his arms, the sorceror shook them twice.  
His sleeves fell, in the mage's equivalent of loading their weapons.
     Closing his eyes, Odion drew on his days of serving as Marik's foremost
servant.  One arm extended, and a dark cloud engulfed Odion's hand before
dissipating into the air.
     It suddenly grew cold on the deck, and both men's breath could be seen.  
Around Seskera, it grew even colder, until there was a white flash and he was
entombed in a block of solid ice.  The former Tomb-Keeper merely watched,
knowing that it would hardly be enough.
     The head of the Order suddenly glowed bright red, and the ice melted in
a flood around him.  Shaking off a bit, he laughed, and then raised his arm,
finger pointing at Odion.  A few muttered words of power filled the air.
     A mighty inferno sprung up around Odion, flames licking at his body.  To
his surprise, the tattoed man felt nothing.
     "It's the scars," Seskera whispered.  "They block the very essence of
the Shadows..."
     The fire died, and Odion immediately began the next spell.  As per the
typical path of a mage's duel, he poured more power into the new incantation.
     Seskera tilted his head, hearing a change in the wind.  A gust then blew
across the top of the deck, throwing his discarded cloak skyward.  The wind
reached a key point behind him, and then the tornado hit.  Around him, a
cylinder of strong wind cut off the outside world.
     Calling on his own power, the leader of the Ammitites thrust out one
hand, speaking a key word.  The wind split in half, and two miniature tornados
danced around him before dissipating.
     "Nice try," Seskera told Odion, smiling grimly.  "The art of the
windstorm is one that I haven't seen in some time.  But you can't win this duel with
elements alone."  To prove his point, he snapped his fingers.
     Kaibacraft 7 lurched, throwing the pilots into a frenzy of activity.  
Underneath Seskera's feet, a tremor began to stretch out, circling Odion from
both sides.  It joined under his feet, and the Tomb-Keeper could barely keep his
balance as the improptu turbulence threw the ship like a baseball.
     Regaining his concentration, Odion touched the deck, channeling his
power.  From his palm came a wave of energy, balancing the energies created by
Seskera and neutralizing the turbulence.  Kaibacraft 7 flew steadily again.
     Now Odion knew what he had to do, what his one chance at victory would
be.  He had to hit Seskera where it hurt.  Concentrating, he began to chant.
     The Ammitite leader's head tilted, as he heard an odd sound in the air.  
It sounded like... a laugh.  And not a friendly laugh... this was a mocking
laugh, a laugh of insult rather than glee.  Soon it was no longer alone, as a
wave of hateful laughter filled the air around him.
     "Shut up," Seskera whispered.  He then repeated it, louder.  "Shut up!"  
But the laughs wouldn't stop.  It was an insulting wind, flowing like magma
around him, an endless cacophony of sound and fury.  Now the words came as a
scream. "SHUT UP!"
     A blast of dark energy ripped through the laughs, causing them to
dissipate.  Silence rang in the air, as Seskera drew a hand back through his hair.  
"So.  The game moves to that, hmm?  Very well."  Holding up his hands, he
moved them carefully as he recited certain words.
     Something flitted in the corner of Odion's eye.  Turning, he looked over
and saw the figure somewhat more clearly.  While shapeless, no question
remained about what it was.  It was a spirit, one that had escaped the Shadow Realm.
     Another one appeared, and then another.  The growing ranks of the
spirits orbited the former Tomb-Keeper, arms reaching out...
     Odion calmed himself and spoke a single word.  The spirits blew into
dust, and Seskera clapped sarcastically, saying, "I thought that would be
stronger.  Which is stronger, the mark of the Shadow Realm on my person, or those
scars of yours?"
     Not responding, Odion closed his eyes, gathering his power.
     A ball of shadow appeared on the ground before Seskera.  Confused, he
watched as it began to expand, growing into a puddle.  Then another one appeared
and opened up, growing another puddle.  A third appeared in the same way, and
then a fourth.  It wasn't long before the ground was covered.
     Puzzled, the Ammitite noted that the air was turning purple.  The shock
of realization hit - the Shadow Realm was consuming the ground around him!  It
moved closer, eating up the space around his feet.  In a panic, he pulled
himself inward...
     And then flicked out a hand, dispelling the illusion.  A hiss of anger
ripped out of him as he turned back to Odion.  "You're getting a little
personal.  I suppose I, too, must resort to that tactic."  The scar on his shoulder
burned, glowing through his shirt, as he jabbed a hand out and chanted.
     The blimp disappeared, and Odion was standing in the center of a vast
desert.  Seskera was nowhere to be seen.  Furious, the Tomb-Keeper prepared to
teleport out, only to hear a sound that cut through all of his mental defenses.
     It was the cry of a baby.
     Stumbling through the desert sands, Odion found a small basket, left on
the top of a sand dune.  Bending over the basket, he noted it was covered by a
blanket.  Tentatively, one hand pulled the blanket back...
     Within it was a tiny infant, crying its lungs out.  Odion stumbled back,
and then finally caught on.  "SESKERA!"
     The illusion fragmented, and he stared with a grim fire in his eyes at
the opposing sorceror.  Seskera laughed, responding to the look by saying,
"Looked familiar, didn't it?  You have within your mind a memory, one that you
would never know of, of your abandonment.  It made an effective weapon."
     Calming himself, Odion blinked and said, "I can use memories as well."  
He gathered all the power left in him and pointed at Seskera.
     A bolt of lightning struck just off the blimp's side.  Another struck as
well, and then the sky lit up.  Electricity leapt from one cloud to another,
and soon four clouds were linked by a chain of lightning.  The center of the
chain glowed...
     And Seskera, looking up into that hole in the sky, knew in an instant
what was happening.
     Ra descended, wings spread in a shining arc behind him, talons at the
ready.  The Egyptian God hovered over the blimp, drawing in its power.  The head
of the Order of Ammit screamed, throwing his arms up as the lightning crashes
crescendoed.
    But, just as Odion grew sure he had won, Seskera uttered a piercing
counterchant.  The lightning stopped, and Ra shattered into a thousand pieces,
which disappeared in individual whiffs of smoke.
     Clenching his fist, Seskera took several deep breaths, other hand
sweeping the sweat from his brow.  "Nicely done, Odion," he said.  "Both of us have
felt Ra's fury, but I suffered greater.  That is, indeed, my worst memory.  
But the true weapon in this fight... is fear."  His fist unclenched.
     Behind Odion, an all-too-familiar voice spoke to him.  "Odion... why?"  
He dared to glance over his shoulder.
     His sister stood there, giving him a look of accusation.  But her skin
was an unearthly white, and her eyes were sunken into her head so far that they
were impossible to see.  She was, quite obviously, dead...
     Another voice spoke at his side, saying the same words.  "Odion... why?"
 Turning, he saw Marik standing there, his body so mangled that he could not
possibly be alive.  And then the one voice he had feared would speak next, the
one that he had so fervently wished he wouldn't hear, spoke at his feet.
     "Uncle Odion... why?"
     The former Tomb-Keeper did not look down, dared not see what Isis had
become.  Instead, he looked to Seskera, face twisted in anguish, and spoke two
words of his own.  "I SUBMIT!"
     Seskera only smiled, and with a snap of his fingers banished the images.
 He strode calmly across the deck, the smile never leaving his lips even as
he threw a punch, striking Odion in the gut and bringing him to his knees.  A
quick swing of his foot knocked his double-crossing aide unconscious.
     A minute later, the chant complete, one more kick from Seskera pushed
Odion through the doors into the Shadow Realm, which closed behind him.  The
entire battle had taken no more than ten minutes.

     On the streets of Domino, a taxi pulled to a halt, and a man with short
black hair slid out of the rear.  Throwing a few thousand yen into the
driver's window, the man checked his watch and cursed.  If only he hadn't missed the
connecting flight...
     Over the years, Mokuba Kaiba had changed a great deal.  For one thing,
he was as tall as his older brother now, although he was a bit heavier than his
sibling.  He wore dark pants and a slightly lighter T-shirt, and in one hand
he carried a suitcase.  His hair was far shorter than he had worn it in
childhood; it wouldn't do for an Oxford business major to have his hairdo be half as
tall as he was.
     The news of the Battle City Tournament's shortening had arrived as an
unexpected blessing for Mokuba, as it allowed him an excuse to put off Devlin's
endless job offers.  But, having missed his connection in China, the younger
Kaiba was far too late to board Kaibacraft 7.  Now he wandered down an alley,
heading towards the Kaiba estates with the hope of at least catching the finals
on their monitors.
     Turning a corner, he didn't watch where he was going and ran into a man
in purple robes.  The man responsed to the accident by grabbing Mokuba's
collar and throwing him to the ground.  Four other figures surrounded him and began
kicking.
     Once he regained consciousness, Mokuba took stock of the situation.  He
was sitting up, bound hand to foot in ropes.  Across from him, four of the
five robed individuals gathered around a pentagram, at the center of which was a
black gem.  They were concentrating intently on the pentagram, watching as it
glowed brightly.  The other member of the group had Mokuba's suitcase and was
rifling through it.
     "Ummm... is there something I can do for you gentlemen?" Mokuba asked.
     The one going through his suitcase turned and hissed, "Shut up.  If you
weren't one of the Kaibas I would have killed you on the spot."
     And in this way did Mokuba Kaiba, without knowing it, gain a front-row
seat for the concluding phase of the rituals.

     As Odion was cast into the shadows, there was a slight jolt of dark
energy.  It struck Peter Wheeler, banishing the darkness that had invaded his
dreams.  With a gasp, he awoke.  Fearing what would happen if he fell asleep, the
boy slid into his slippers and headed onto the deck, still in his pajamas.
     The door opened, and he saw a figure dressed in black staring out into
the night sky.  The figure turned its head, and he saw it was Seskera.  Without
thinking, he said, "I hear you're the bad guy."
     Without looking, the Ammitite replied, "So they say."  He moved to the
railings and leaned on them, gaze still pointed to the sky.  "I'm not sure if I
fit the definition, though.  I just want power."
     Peter moved across the deck and leaned on the railings next to Seskera,
blinking as his scars acted up.  "Would it help if I apologized for killing
Hasker?"  He shuddered, the dreams still fresh in his mind.
     Seskera merely snorted, fingers drumming the rail.  "Don't even bother,"
he said.  "Hasker betrayed me.  I take him from the sewers of Spain, bring
him with me, give him a taste of strength... and he steals my crystal and runs
for it."
     Something inside Peter's chest became a bit lighter.
     One of Seskera's hands went to his shoulder, where the lightning scar
had flared to life and was beginning to itch.  "How old are you, Peter?" he
asked.
     "Eight... why?"
     The head of the Order smirked despite himself.  "How strange.  According
to all the records I have, your parents got married only seven years ago."
     A different something in Peter's chest grew heavy, as he managed to
choke out, "I'm... I'm a..."
     "Only technically," Seskera finished.  "Your father was never the kind
to let that sort of formality get in the way.  Embarassed the living hell out
of his sister, though."
     To Peter, it seemed one shock was following another.  "His... sister?"
     Taking his hand from his shoulder, Seskera gestured idly.  An illusion
shimmered off the side of the Kaibacraft 7, forming a picture of a young woman.
 "Serenity Wheeler," Seskera began, "your father's younger sister - your
aunt, I would suppose.  They haven't spoken to each other since your birth.  Part
of that is because your father didn't approve of her choice of husband."  Two
more illusions appeared in the sky, one on either side of the picture of
Serenity - one of a man in red with dark tattoos around his eyes, the other of a
man Peter recognized as the guest registration man from the day before.  "She
had to choose between the man on the right, your father's friend Tristan Taylor,
and the man on the left, Duke Devlin..."
     Peter interrupted him, saying, "Duke Devlin?  You mean the guy who took
over Industrial Illusions after Pegasus retired?"
     "Yes," Seskera replied, "although at the time he was merely a game
designer for the company.  Despite everything Tristan tried, Serenity went with
Duke - apparently, he simply had more to offer.  Your father couldn't accept how
his friend was snubbed - of course, he never told her as such...  She lives in
the United States now, although she travels with her husband a lot.  They had
a little boy not too long ago.  You have a cousin, Peter."  Tristan's picture
vanished into smoke, and between the pictures of Serenity and Devlin appeared
a picture of a dark-haired boy, no older than three.  The illusions held for
a moment, and then all three blurred away.
     It was a lot for the young duelist to take in.  His eyes shut, and the
scars on his cheeks burned with a severe intensity.  "He never told me about
any of that..."
     "I can't really blame him," Seskera said, drawing back his hand.  "It's
not one of his better memories.  I can't imagine what it was like, of course,
as I don't have a family..."  Glancing at Peter's scars, he slid his finger
down one of them.  "Odion told me of Hasker's death the day it happened.  I see
you were left with an unpleasant reminder."
     Automatically, Peter backhanded Seskera's finger off of his face.  "I'd
prefer you not touch them," he hissed.
     "Noted," Seskera said, pulling his hand back.  "We're alike in that
regard.  I refuse to let anyone touch my scar, either."
     "You... have a scar?"  Peter turned to Seskera, blinking in confusion.
     A low chuckle worked its way out of Seskera's throat as he moved his
shirt, revealing the lightning burn that still smoldered on his shoulder.  "You
can't suffer the wrath of an Egyptian God and get away unscathed, young
Wheeler.  The Shadow Realm always leaves its marks..."
     Hasker had said exactly the same words.  Head swimming, Peter headed
back for the door, saying, "I need to get back to bed..."
     Not stopping him in any way, the Ammitite returned to his study of the
stars.  He was certain he'd planted seeds of doubt in the young boy's mind, and
thus his goal was accomplished.

     The sun rose, and with it the Shadow Magic was unable to survive.  Beams
of sunlight penetrated the rooms aboard the Kaibacraft 7, scouring away the
darkness and the last remnants of Shadow Magic.  One by one, the sleepers awoke.
     Seto Kaiba was already awake, and his wrath was just beginning.
     "What do you MEAN he's gone?  Don't you idiots actually keep an eye on
prisoners?!?"  The guards flinched away from their employer.  Upon discovering
Odion's disappearance, Seto Kaiba had lost the last shred of patience he'd
possessed following the quarterfinals.  The expression on his face made it clear
he was just stopping short of skinning his guards.
     "W-We don't know how it happened, Mr. Kaiba!" one of the guards
desperately explained.  "We came in when the shifts changed, and he was gone!  The
lock was open, but the previous shift swore they hadn't let him out!"
     Regaining his composture, Kaiba snorted and said, "Once we land, I'm
firing every single one of you.  Now search this ship!  If you don't find him,
I'm suing you for incompetence!  Get to it!"
     The guards marched out and headed down the hall, both insanely grateful
that their jobs were all they had lost.
     Still seething, the head of Kaibacorp stepped into the main room, where
the semifinalists had taken their seats before a large machine.  Ever since
the first Battle City, the Blue-Eyes Ultimate Randomizer had never changed; the
crew had spent an hour previously hooking it up, and now it sat between the
duelist elevators, a little to the left of the official's elevator.  This time,
there were only four balls in the machine, numbered one through four.  The
central head was already lowered, but the tumbling hadn't started.
      Seto looked over the semifinalists.  Derik was leaning back and
glancing at Peter, who appeared a little shellshocked for some reason.  Isis merely
waited calmly, going over his deck one last time, while Seskera had his eyes
closed and was either dozing or in deep thought.  The Ammitite leader looked out
of place amid the three children.
     "Ahem," Kaiba began.  Immediately, all four duelists looked to him.  
"This year, we will determine who faces who in the semi-finals not by a battle
royale, but by random selection.  This is in an effort to prevent what happened
last year..."
     Isis giggled.  The year before, one of the duelists had pumped his Life
Points to 10,000 - and in response, another duelist, with only 100 Life
Points, had activated Self-Destruct Switch.  It was a four-way tie, and it had taken
forever to determine who dueled whom.
     Not missing a beat, the arbitor (standing by the machine) spoke up,
"Your numbers are as follows: Peter Wheeler, you are number one; Derik Motoh, you
are number two; Isis Kaiba, you are number three; and Seskera, you are number
four.  When your number is called, step over to one of the elevators."
     The duelists became slightly more alert, eyes on the randomizer.
     "Start the randomizer!" Seto Kaiba yelled.  The arbiter pulled a switch.
     Immediately, the numbered balls began to swirl in the winds of the
central fan.  The central head snapped, swallowed... and the left head spat out one
of the balls.  It was a one.
     "Peter Wheeler, you will be facing..."  The arbiter stopped and waited.
     The central head snapped again, and this time, the right head spat out
the selected ball.  This one bore the number three.
     "...Isis Kaiba!" the arbiter finished.  "Duelists, prepare for battle!"
     Peter and Isis stood up, traveling to different elevators.  The Battle
City Semifinals were ready to begin.