Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ The Fall That Brought Me To You ❯ Destruction and Capture ( Chapter 1 )

Fire danced and spread through the dim chamber, fierce strands of woven brilliance sweeping and raging like thunder's dangerous endeavor through granules of god's harvested fuel. Passages aligning the dark and sinister walls crawled like the scarab beetles which signaled a true want for rebirth, a case that was so far from the truth here.

 

Statues towered high and mighty along the vast walls, raging and spitting flames of the deepest treachery, the greatest conducts of malice, alighting stone crafted features of cold, dark rage. Shadows murky and distorted roamed the far corners of the room, slowly devouring it as they stretched and spread their impure grasps onto the scarab beetles of the walls, the incensed gods situated abrasively against the walls, and over a kingdom that had freshly fallen to the merciless invasion of a power-thirsty deity.

 

Blood smeared the walls, the sick, pungent smell of death and decay overpowering and oppressive to the senses as it hung heavily in a room riddled with cadaver remains and abandoned steel. A desolate thrown sat at the far end of the chamber, gilded surface tainted by splatters of blood and lost life energy.

 

There was an agonizingly-soft, pained cry, chords emanating eerily out into the deserted chamber of the deceased as the dragging of steel across stoned ground scraped and scratched its way disturbingly loud into the ominous silence of the still, fallen kingdom.

 

Tattered robes of polluted linen soaked and heavy with undiluted blood twisted around the frail being of the god's progeny as multiple shifts of positions desperately tried to maneuver him closer to the mighty shadow of the god. Heavily-lidded garnet floundered against the whites of their eyes as the progeny vainly fought the ardent call of oblivion and desperately strode on.

 

Calculated taps began making their way collectively over the desecrated ground, a pair of cinnamon orbs glowing deeply with a sick, profound glee watching the leaking figure make his way pathetically over the ground. A rise of a sword, hasty footfalls, a swipe, an agonized cry, and the weapon was abandoned.

 

A smirk greasing across sadistic features as russet eyes gleamed in rogue satisfaction. A grate of metal on marble, grinding ruckus shredding its way into a disturbingly mute atmosphere, and the weapon came to fall across the cloaked man's shoulder.

 

Scar gleamed in the dancing firelight, dark, stalwart sources painting sinister patterns across a face riddled and darkened by eerie shadows and dark skin tone serving further contrast to the lightly glimmering eye of a cloaked villain.

 

Rusty breaths fell more raggedly past a pair of pliant, blood-encrusted lips, as failing ruby turned to gaze into the face of his adversary, ghosting up moisture rising at an elevated rate into a chilled atmosphere providing the only disturbance between the two.

 

A smirk oiled into a sneer.

 

“Oh, look how the mighty have fallen,” a bounteous bout of gruff laughter, a chuckle at first, shoulders shaking only slightly under the man's cloak as he kept his gaze glued sadistically to that of the bleeding progeny's, before a full blown cackle resounded from his larynx, a resonating burst of rocketing noise crashing suddenly into the stiff chamber causing the stillness to further shudder as the figure's shoulders continued to quake heavily.

 

The last chords resonated their last breaths threw the dim chamber, before sick eyes again settled down and returned to those of the bleeding progeny's.

 

“Where are the seven items of the millennia?”

 

An icy glare was his only response.

 

A sick hiss spluttered its way past the cloaked man's lips, before he stooped down to the other man's level and harshly grabbed the front material of the man's robes in a fierce grip.

 

“Pharaoh! Tell me!”

 

A wavering baritone voice, deep but thickened with resolve, provided him with the only answer that he would ever have been given.

 

“I shall never tell the likes of you, Bakura!”

 

An enraged growl was his response, sick, warning, dimmed from any reason, as a pair of rigid cinnamon eyes barred into his own set ruby.

 

“Let us try this again…”

 

The king's face was brought closer and closer to that of the villain's, as the rage building within him swelled to unimaginable levels.

 

“Where-Are-The-ITEMS!”

 

“I shall never say!”

 

The thief let out an infuriated howl, as he disposed of the pharaoh, crimson eyes set in a nasty glare raging with galvanic hatred thickened and set into a putrid glare that mirrored the villain's own as he was thrown harshly back onto the ground.

 

“Do you not understand what has happened here, Pharaoh?! You are all alone here!”

 

He pointed out the various carcasses of his fallen followers, his loyal subjects, his soldiers, the blood that smeared the walls and floor with a gloved hand.

 

“Your high priests have fallen, your followers ridded of their ugly lives, your village slaughtered! And you STILL refuse to bow to my wishes?!”

 

His voice had risen into a nasty howl, anger and contempt flaring within word and voice as he barred down relentlessly on the wounded pharaoh. Maniacal gaze crashed against dulled daggers, galvanic frequencies raging between the two bristling with profound hatred.

 

“If that is your wish to die for your kingdom, than I will humbly oblige to your request!”

 

A sick growl spluttered its way into the sick silence of the darkened kingdom and all went dark.