《A Frog Back In Water - Yu-Gi-Oh DM》


 Chapter 1 – An Unfrogettable Start!

    Bitter cold.


    Such bitter cold that the air itself felt filled with hidden blades that tore at both throat and lungs with every breath. The city slept ¨C in hibernation under the combined onslaught of the winter and the night. Still, the gentle glow of the streetlights bathed the walkways of Domino City. It was as if an angel was attempting to extend just one mercy to any poor soul forced to be outside that night.


    In a quiet city park, a man sat hunched over against a bench. The man¡¯s body was deathly still. His fingers were blackened with frostbite. Snow coated his ragged beard, and no heartbeat stirred in his chest.


    A solitary snowflake settled on the dead man''s cheek, and then in a flash, his eyes burst open. At first his arms moved in the creaky manner of a man once frozen, but soon the rest of his body surged with life. Frost crackled as his legs unfolded from where they had been resting near his chest, throwing the accumulated snow off his ragged pants. His eyes were wide with shock, perhaps still stunned by his abrupt awakening. It was as if his mind, still attempting to grapple with some sort of recent traumatic event, was not properly in synch with his body, which was still dealing with being partially frozen.


    The man''s mouth moved next - weak coughs growing to scattered laughs that turned into strings of hoarse, foul curses thrown haphazardly into the frozen night air.


    "SON OF A FUCKING BITCH! LUMINA! WHAT THE FUCK!¡±


    Domino City Park, once muffled under a thick blanket of snow, was silent no more.


    While the man waited for whatever answer would come, if any at all, his shaking hands began to rub at his face. Then he began to speak into thin air, directing his words at no one in particular. In a matter of seconds, his demeanor had changed from shock, to rage, to curious contemplation. Though underneath it all, rage still quietly simmered, waiting only for a target to direct itself against.


    "Beard? Never been a fan, but worth trying. Two eyes, good. Three missing teeth, two feet, worn out shoes but still technically usable. Battered coat... but long enough to reach past my knees. Taller but skinnier than last time. Frostbite on the fingers, ouch. Beard, voice pitch, height, general scruffiness..."


    The man fell silent after making those observations about his current physical state, chewing on his next words with no small sense of resignation now that his shock had passed.


    "Well, the good news is that I''m not a fucking kid this time. Bad news? Looks like I''m a bum living in a park. Great. And it''s cold as shit. I fucking swear if the Lightsworns are behind this again, I¡¯ll burn their offices down. I bet Lumina would give me their address. Hell, she¡¯d probably drive me there with how she used to talk about them.¡±


    A movement came from the breast pocket of Phil¡¯s coat, though that pocket was no more than a scrap of cloth desperately hanging on to the piece of clothing for all it had. Phil looked down to see a small green creature, one that could comfortably fit in the middle of his palm, squeaking at him with a look of mild displeasure and¡­ beneath that, hunger. An ever-growing hunger.


    For a moment, the tadpole in Phil¡¯s breast pocket blurred, its form replaced by a yawning black void, with several star-like pink eyes scattered amongst the darkness. Whispers came from that void, both much too faint to fully understand, yet strangely familiar at the same time. It was all scraps, languages blurring together in a mix of Japanese, Italian, and English. Then Phil blinked, and the tadpole was back.


    Phil smiled at the miniature duel spirit. ¡°D.3.S. Frog! Hey buddy! Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll find us some bad guys to feed you as soon as I can. This looks like a big city, there has to be a few assholes around here somewhere. The flesh of his enemies, that¡¯s the stuff a growing lad needs to be a big frog again!¡±


    The murderous tadpole squeaked in hearty agreement, before hopping out of the pocket to burrow into the collar of Phil¡¯s coat for more warmth. Enemies. Phil had a feeling he would find some eventually. That¡¯s what always seemed to happen in situations like this, and restoring his duel spirit back to full strength was the least he could do after D.3.S. Frog saved his life at the academy.


    He wasn''t alone, at least. The reminder was a small comfort in between the terrifying yet brief memory that replayed over and over in his head, the memory of a truck rushing toward him, followed by a flash of extreme pain.


    After a few minutes of (somewhat) patient silence from Phil, the air shimmered, the flurries of snow parting to reveal a tanned woman in a sleeveless dress of pure white.


    "No need to yell, Phil. I can hear you just fine. Are you a crackhead this time? You need a haircut." The woman replied, sweeping a hand through her short golden hair. There was an otherworldly air to the woman, and unlike Phil, she stood unbothered by the cold.


    Phil glared at Lumina, but then his hostility fell away as quickly as it arrived. He flashed a crooked smile, one that Lumina returned alongside a bone-crushing hug that drove the breath right out of Phil''s lungs. The hug was enough to lift Phil in the air a few centimeters, even though unlike before, he was now taller than Lumina.


    "Sucks to be here again, but I''m glad to see you, Lumina. It''s been too long."


    Phil was let loose from the hug of terrifying force and while Lumina''s face tightened as she worked over what to say next, Phil studied his friend.


    The duel spirit looked just like she had when they''d last parted, but at a closer examination he could see bags under her eyes, stray ends of hair poking out of her otherwise neat hairdo, and the golden tassels lining the bottom edges of her dress were frayed. Life clearly hadn''t been kind to her in the time they were apart.


    "So, what''s the scoop?" Phil asked, trying not to think about the crackhead remark (which he had a feeling was quite accurate) while he looked around the park. Aside from him and Lumina, there were no other living souls in the park, but in the distance, he could see small pinpricks of light underneath a large stone bridge. Already his mind was only halfway focused on the conversation, with the other half running through a very short list of options on how to get even the slightest bit of warmth back in his bones. He was quite familiar with how dangerous it would be to stay as cold as he was for a long period of time.


    Lumina shrugged helplessly, the action causing the pit in the bottom of Phil''s stomach to grow.


    "Nothing. No mission. You aren''t supposed to be here."


    "So I died for nothing and still ended up here." Phil murmured, absentmindedly stroking his beard while he thought. His beard felt rough and half-frozen to the touch; the hair littered with crystals of ice that scraped against the rough skin on his hands.


    "It was different this time. A truck, I think. Big one. Hit me when I was crossing the street. I didn¡¯t even have time to react. Then I woke up here."


    "Internal hemorrhaging," Lumina added. "That''s what I read in your report. Shortest one I''ve ever seen for a death. That made me suspect someone tampered with it, so I did some digging on my own."


    That caught Phil''s attention. With his eyebrows raised, he stared at Lumina.


    "You did die of internal hemorrhaging after being hit by a truck. Only it wasn''t an ordinary accident. The truck was driven by Ryko. He''d ingested enough alcohol and cocaine to kill a grown man ten times over. None of that was in the report. I only found out about it by accident at a company retreat when I heard the dog bastard laughing about it with Gragonith. About how he misread the paperwork involving you. About how he got off scot-free after causing an unauthorized reincarnation. Got it covered up and everything.¡±


    Lumina sighed, scuffing her white slippers against the ground. ¡°I tried to protest it, but it only got me demoted all~ the way back down to the bottom ranks. They were already angry about how much I helped you last time, but this was the tipping point. After that, I snuck off to find you as soon as I could. I doubt headquarters even noticed I left."


    "Isn''t Ryko a dog?" Phil asked. Ryko, Lightsworn Hunter. He¡¯d used a Lightsworn deck in tournaments back in his world, so the card wasn¡¯t unknown to Phil.


    "Yeah. Why?"


    "Well," He gestured helplessly, "Dogs can''t drive."


    "Don¡¯t tell Ryko that! He''s gone mad with power ever since that misogynistic piece of trash Judgment Dragon gave him a manager position out of the blue!"


    The tension brought forward by the truth behind Phil''s death deflated like a popped balloon. Phil let out a short laugh and shook his head in weary acceptance.


    "Here we go again, huh? Do I even have a chance at getting back this time? Or your job, you risked it for me.¡±


    "I¡­ don¡¯t know. Normally there would be a task for you, like last time. But there isn¡¯t. And the Lightsworn Corporation can bugger off.¡± Lumina flashed a sad smile. ¡°We¡¯ll figure something out. I know we will. Now how about we find somewhere to get out of the cold first?"


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    The next day saw a cold sunrise spreading over the city. It had not taken long for Phil and Lumina to conclude the previous night that the options for shelter were¡­ limited. Extremely. Mainly for the obvious reason that Phil was a grimy vagabond and no one in their right mind would ever let him come into any sort of building that could get him out of the snow. Thus, the pair settled for the next best thing ¨C under the bridge Phil saw from the park. The pinpricks of light under it told a story of other people down on their luck having that same idea.


    There were two steel barrels resting underneath the stone bridge. Perhaps at one point in time, they had held oil or some sort of other material for transport, but now their tops were struck off to allow the interiors to be stuffed full of flammable materials and set alight for warmth. Phil had settled near one of them and, while thinking about how to take care of his problems, fell asleep until morning.


    A few feet away, a small river sluggishly flowed under the bridge to distant lands. It was the main culprit behind Phil¡¯s journey into dreamland. The ambient noise of its burbling was strangely peaceful when combined with the view of the snow falling beyond the shelter of the bridge.


    As he woke, Phil¡¯s eyes darted around to get a grasp of the situation. Several other men, all as bedraggled and scraggly as he was, sat around the fire barrels in utter silence. Some of the men were asleep, some unconscious, but others simply stared into the depths of the dancing flames with empty eyes devoid of any emotion. None of them acknowledged Phil, though none of them drove him away, either.


    Nothing about them had changed since Phil had first seen them the previous night. Nearby, Lumina leaned against one of the concrete support beams of the bridge, her arms crossed and her face unreadable. To all but Phil, she went completely unseen. She didn¡¯t look to have gotten a single wink of sleep over the night, though he wasn¡¯t sure if duel spirits even needed to sleep in the first place.


    Phil sat up. The chill couldn¡¯t be shaken completely from his body, but already he was feeling far better than when he had first opened his eyes in the park. The benefits of a full eight-hour rest always managed to amaze him every time.


    ¡°Right. What now? No cards, no money, no food, no identification or papers that could be counted as such.¡± Phil muttered to himself, counting each problem out on his fingers one by one. The blackened tips of his fingers had finally begun to regain some color after sticking them as close to the fire as he could for as long as he dared. ¡°This isn''t like last time when I woke up in a cozy apartment. I have shelter if the bridge can be counted as one. Hopefully I don''t get stabbed in my sleep. Water can be taken from the river and boiled. Fire is right in front of me. That¡¯s three of the four basic needs right there. Silver lining, ay?¡±


    Lumina shifted in place from where she stood. If any of the other men around the fire cared that from their point of view, Phil was talking to thin air, none of them showed it. None of them even reacted to Phil¡¯s words, either out of apathy, ignorance, or just being caught up in their own worlds.


    ¡°What now¡­¡± Lumina echoed Phil¡¯s earlier question, seemingly unsure herself. Phil, however, stood up, his joints creaking in protest after the long night spent laying on hard dirt with only a threadbare coat to wrap around them.


    With his hands stuck in the battered pockets of his coat, Phil walked out from under the stone bridge, hissing from the cold wind that battered him from all sides. He glanced at the skyline of the city before him, grunting at what he saw, but keeping his observations to himself.


    ¡°We walk," Phil said. ¡°We walk, we talk, we observe, and we try to figure a way out of this mess. I want to go back home. Killing Ryko with my bare hands would be a bonus. What do you want?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m not even sure if I want my old job back anymore. As for Ryko, you¡¯ll have to get in line after me.¡± Lumina frowned. Her white dress shone under the cold sunlight of the winter morning. The slight scruffiness of it was gone, Lumina having done some sort of maintenance on the clothing while Phil slept.


    ¡°Those guys at the officer are a bunch of flaming cunts, huh? Guess we already knew that.¡± Phil summarized, and Lumina flashed a smile toward him in agreement. But then, she paused as Phil stepped onto the street leading toward the city center. There were no cars about, but the snowplows had done an admirable job in clearing the streets so that they were easy to move around on.


    The sidewalks, however, were still covered in a good foot or two of snow. The roads were lined with shops, some made from stone, others from brick, and more of wood. Each building was like a bubble of life in a city made quiet by the heavy snowfall. The soft chatter of customers and the enthusiastic shouts of salesmen leaked out of the doors of each business, only to be muffled by the snowy blanket covering the streets.


    ¡°If I don¡¯t go back, what would I even do? Phil¡­ I¡¯m a corporate duel spirit. All I know is the Lightsworn Corporation. I¡¯ve been pushing papers and answering calls there for countless millennia. I don¡¯t even remember what I did before that.¡±


    Sometimes, Phil truly forgot how old Lumina was. How old all duel spirits were. It was a sobering thought, and the pair fell into a companionable silence until Phil came face to face with a familiar sight, though it was one he was far more used to seeing in the black-and-white colors of a manga panel.


    Before him, there was a storefront that was longer than it was wide. Tan colors wrapped around it, with a roof that was a bright green hue. Near the top of the building on the front were bold red letters that formed the word ¡®GAME¡¯, and a sign sticking out from the ground right next to the building was a turtle, with the word ¡®Kame¡¯ detailed neatly under it.


    ¡°Kame Game.¡± Phil reverently whispered. The morning was still early and quite cold, but the front door of the game store had a warm neon ¡®open¡¯ sign blazing a bright green and red color. He moved closer, peering through the windows to get a better look into the store. Though the rest of the street was empty, aside from two sleazy-looking men in suits on the opposite side of the street smoking against a storefront, the game store itself was packed to the brim with people.


    No matter how much Phil tried to steady himself, his hands still shook out of pure excitement from seeing the famous shop. More than that, the scene playing out before him told Phil precisely where he was, far more than simply knowing the name of the city he was in.


    ¡°Do you know where we are?¡± Lumina asked, leaning in close to him so she could see into the store as well. From her tone, it sounded like a rhetorical question, but Phil put his mind to it regardless.


    At first, he wasn¡¯t sure, but as the night went on his suspicions had deepened. With the Lightsworn Corporation involved, the odds were high that he was dumped in some fictional world. He didn¡¯t recognize it at first. Not one single part. But when the day broke, Phil knew in an instant.


    ¡°I can see a Kaiba Corp skyscraper in the distance.¡± Phil tilted his head in the vague direction of the skyscraper in the skyline behind him. ¡°Saw it as soon as I walked out from under that bridge. That means Yu-Gi-Oh. Domino City, if I were a betting man. That¡¯s where all the magic happens. Here¡¯s Kame Games in front of us, which means DM or GX. It also confirms my Domino City guess.¡±


    Phil then turned to look back to the store windows. ¡°From there it gets narrowed down even further since I can see Yugi¡¯s Grandpa in his shop standing right next to a big sign saying ¡®New Game!¡¯ with the words ¡®Duel Monsters learn to play day!¡¯ underneath. If Duel Monsters is still considered a new game, we can only be in DM. As for what version, anime or manga, I can¡¯t say for sure. Unlike GX, the only major difference between the two are several filler arcs that I never bothered to be familiar with.¡±


    ¡°Duel Monsters.¡± Lumina confirmed.


    Phil nodded. Duel Monsters, or DM for short, was the generally accepted name of the first run of the Yu-Gi-Oh manga and anime. It followed the adventures of Yugi Muto as he fought for life, death, and friendship in a children¡¯s card game alongside an occasionally homicidal spirit of an ancient pharaoh that would possess the boy whenever shit got real. Well, calling Atem ¡®homicidal¡¯ maybe went a bit far. Sure, there were some bodies dropping early on, but once Death-T concluded, the guy really mellowed out. A lot less torture and a lot more friendship.


    All-in-all, it could be worse. Now the only question remained ¨C was this the anime, the manga, or a mixed timeline like it was in his last experience reincarnating?


    Phil shook his head, partly to clear his thoughts, and partly to dump the handful of snow that had fallen from the eaves of the window onto the top of his head. He probably shouldn¡¯t go in. Odds were he¡¯d get kicked out for being a sketchy fella. Heck, he probably smelled like something that crawled into the sewers to die. Hopefully not.


    However, his hands were already pulling open the door. Not only was this a chance for him to meet the Solomon Muto in person, but¡­ from the window, he¡¯d also seen Yugi Muto in the store, assisting with the learn-to-play day. If he got kicked out, then so be it. As long as Phil got the chance to meet one of his childhood heroes, he could deal with it.


    As soon as Phil entered the shop, the grey-haired man in green overalls glanced at him. There was no flicker of disgust or alarm that went through the elderly man¡¯s eyes, only a warm glow of welcome which felt like it was melting the cold off Phil¡¯s shoulders alongside the heated interior of the game store.Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°Ohoho! Welcome, welcome to Kame Game!¡± Solomon Muto opened his arms wide in greeting toward Phil. ¡°My newfound friend, my name is Solomon Muto! I do not believe I have seen you around here before! May I have the honor of knowing your name?¡±


    There was just something about the kind grandfatherly aura surrounding the man that made Phil cheerily smile back in response.


    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m new here in town. I saw through the window that today''s a learn-to-play day. It got me curious, I admit, since I¡¯m somewhat familiar with this game myself. The name¡¯s Phil Jenson, nice to meet¡¯cha.¡± Phil responded in polite tones that were somewhat unusual for him, but there was something about Solomon¡¯s aura that made him consciously want to watch his mouth.


    Solomon enthusiastically nodded, beckoning for Phil to step closer to a table that had several people already crowded around it, a mix of students, a few young children, and a smattering of adults. Yugi Muto was amongst them, teaching a loud blond teen how to play, a teen that Phil recognized after a moment as Joey Wheeler. The sight was another confirmation of where exactly in the timeline this was, as Joey was clearly having a good time playing against Yugi, something that wouldn¡¯t have happened if the bully arc was still happening.


    ¡°Somewhat familiar, you say? My good man, that makes the duelist in me all the more excited to face you! Our battle shall be legendary!¡± Solomon grinned once Phil was opposite of him at the table. Lumina doubled over, concealing her laughter at the man¡¯s antics almost well enough that Phil didn¡¯t notice. Almost.


    ¡°Do you have a deck you prefer, or would you like to try a test deck I put together for this day?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a bit strapped on cash, mate, so I¡¯ll give that test deck of yours a spin.¡± Phil helplessly shrugged. Interestingly enough, Solomon merely smiled a mysterious smile, sliding a deck over to Phil, who picked it up and quickly skimmed through the contents. Then Solomon motioned for Phil to take a seat.


    Phil¡¯s smile grew larger. ¡°Interesting.¡±


    ¡°Ohohoho! Comments like that make this old duelist even more eager than ever!¡± Solomon said, his hand dipping into his pocket to reveal an ancient-looking copper coin. One end sported a faded engraving of a bearded man¡¯s head, with flowing locks of hair, while the other side bore the symbol of an eagle. The coin was rough, circular yet with jagged edges.


    ¡°Now, my newfound friend, heads or tails?¡±


    ¡°Heads, always.¡± Phil said.


    The coin flew into the air, the lights of the game store flashing against its shiny surface. Then, it fell onto Solomon¡¯s palm and was quickly slapped onto the back of his hand.


    ¡°Heads it is.¡± Solomon confirmed.


    Phil glanced around the store. It was practically filled to the brim with tables surrounded by people playing the game. There was barely any room to walk around. Even the aisles between shelves had been commandeered for more tables. Conversation filled the air with a low hum, occasionally broken up by shouts from Joey as he got his ass beat two ways to Sunday by Yugi while his friend, Tristan Taylor, watched with great mirth. Tea Gardner was nowhere to be seen, nor was Bakura Ryou.


    Contrary to the freezing cold of the outside, the world within the game store pulsed with the sort of warmth capable of filling Phil¡¯s core to the very brim.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you go first.¡± Phil confirmed as both men drew their starting hands, with Solomon drawing another card to start his turn, putting his hand at six cards.


    Phil: 4000 Solomon: 4000


    Phil¡¯s eyebrows raised slightly. A draw on the first turn¡­ and if he wasn¡¯t mistaken, the electronic life point counter on the table read 4000 points for each player. The first turn draw was simple. It was early enough in the game¡¯s history for it to be during the period where the player going first did indeed get to draw a card on the first turn. But the life points? He knew quite well that at this point in the anime/manga, it should have been 2000 points per player. That, and the game being a mix between actual Yu-Gi-Oh! and a role-playing game (like Dungeons and Dragons), were two of the big differences between how it was played in real life and in the media.


    Yet, the life points were different. Phil instantly became more alert, watching Solomon¡¯s every move for further changes to what he knew. Behind him, Lumina sidled up closer, having instantly noticed the changes in Phil¡¯s posture that told her something unexpected had happened.


    Solomon, completely unaware of Phil¡¯s internal turmoil, gracefully went along with his turn.


    ¡°Griffore (1200/1500), in defense mode! Then one card face-down, and I shall end my turn!¡±


    Unlike what Phil was used to back in his academy days, there were no holograms here. Instead, the red winged monster looked at him innocently through the frame of the card. Phil¡¯s first thought, as he began his turn and drew a card, was to completely disregard the monster Solomon had summoned. 1500 defense points were something he was used to considering as shit.


    Yet once he glanced at his hand, Phil was reminded of the era.


    In this era of the game, 1500 attack points or defense points was actually pretty solid. In fact, it wasn¡¯t even a number Phil could get over at this time.


    "Interesting," Phil smirked, internally laughing at how crazy it was that he couldn''t get over 1500 defense points. ¡°I¡¯ll summon Giant Rat (1400/1450) in defense position.¡±


    "Ah, and when you do," Solomon gently spoke up, flipping over his face-down card, "I activate the continuous trap card, The Eye of Truth! While this trap remains on the field, you must keep your hand revealed! Though, as a downside, during each of your standby phases, you will gain 1000 life points if you have a spell card in your hand."


    Phil laughed, revealing his hand to his opponent. He did indeed have a spell card in his hand, Polymerization, but it was currently his main phase, so he wouldn¡¯t gain life points until his next turn. The Eye of Truth. Truly, he never expected to ever see that card outside of some gimmicky burn deck.


    ¡°Interesting hand, my friend,¡± Solomon Muto muttered, his free hand stroking his short grey beard as he looked at what cards Phil had. ¡°I must be careful, then.¡±


    ¡°Your trap is pretty handy right now, huh?¡± Phil said, ignoring Lumina miming the act of vomiting in the face of Phil¡¯s terrible pun. Solomon, however, found Phil¡¯s horrendous sense of humor a bit more amusing, adding his gentle laughter to the din that filled the store.


    ¡°I¡¯ll finish up my turn by setting a trap that you totally don¡¯t know about, and then that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Solomon nodded with a serious look that only partially hid the joviality the man truly felt. ¡°I draw! Come to me, Celtic Guardian (1400/1200)!¡±


    ¡°Celtic Guardian~!¡± Phil cheered, dragging out the name in joy of seeing the iconic card.


    ¡°That¡¯s not all!¡± Solomon raised his pointer finger in the air, ¡°For I equip my Griffore with the equip spell card, Horn of the Unicorn! This allows my monster to gain 700 attack and defense points! Then I switch him to attack mode!¡±


    Griffore (1200/1500 -> 1900/2200).


    Phil stumbled back, holding his hand over his heart in a show of fear that was only partially a joke. 1900 attack points would take some legitimate tomfoolery to deal with, but that wasn''t all. He also knew full well from his experience with old jank formats that even if he killed Griffore, Horn of the Unicorn had a caveat that would see it return to the top of Solomon''s deck if it was sent to the graveyard. Meaning, as long as Solomon had monsters in his hand, he could keep abusing that scary 700 stat point boost each turn. Though, on the flip side, Phil knew all too well that the recursion effect was a drawback in its own way.


    See, the thing about it returning to the top of the deck after being sent to the graveyard was that it would essentially replace Solomon''s draw. Meaning, that if Phil could destroy his monsters fast enough, Solomon would be forced to choose between keeping the equip spell in his hand, or risking running out of monsters entirely.


    The problem would be destroying the equipped monsters fast enough.


    ¡°Griffore, advance upon my opponent! Destroy Giant Rat!¡± Solomon commanded the inanimate piece of cardstock to attack Phil¡¯s defending monster.


    Phil shrugged. ¡°You know what that means. Giant Rat¡¯s effect activates when it dies, allowing me to summon one earth monster with 1500 or fewer attack points from my deck in attack position. Come on out, Nimble Momonga (1000/100)!¡±


    But as soon as the flying squirrel-esque creature landed on the field, Celtic Guardian was commanded to attack it, sending Phil¡¯s monster flying into the graveyard.


    "Momonga''s effect triggers," Phil countered, "healing me for 1000 life points and letting me summon two more Nimble Momonga from my deck in face-down defense position."


    Phil: 4600 Solomon: 4000


    ¡°A sound strategy.¡± Solomon mused. ¡°It seems that my ¡®all-seeing eye¡¯ strategy will be working against me soon enough. Very good, my friend! I end my turn!¡±


    ¡°You built this deck,¡± Phil reminded the old man, ¡°Ya shoulda¡¯ known, big dawg.¡±


    Solomon grinned and shrugged. ¡°Phil, my boy, I may have built it to the best of my ability, but my honor as a duelist demands that I scourge all prior knowledge of your deck from my mind.¡±


    Phil couldn¡¯t have said the words better himself. He launched into his turn, side-eyeing the life point counter with a grin as Solomon Muto¡¯s trap increased his life points by 1000 for the Polymerization spell card in his hand during the standby phase.


    As Phil checked out his new card, Solomon¡¯s eyebrows drew slightly higher, something that Phil only barely noticed. Frankly, he didn¡¯t blame the man, for in his hand was the way to tear through Solomon¡¯s Horn of the Unicorn combo.


    ¡°First thing¡¯s first, I activate the effect of Thunder Dragon in my hand!¡± Phil cheerfully declared, ¡°By discarding it to the graveyard, I can add up to two more copies of Thunder Dragon from my deck to my hand. I¡¯ll add the full two, of course. Not only that, but since I discarded a card from my hand, a continuous trap of my own activates! Forced Requisition! From now on, each time I discard from my hand, you will have to discard the same number of cards!¡±


    Phil leaped into his next play, hardly pausing for a breath. ¡°Then up next is Polymerization! Fusing both my Thunder Dragons, I summon Twin-Headed Thunder Dragon (2800/2100)!¡±


    That was another thing Phil noticed was wildly different from what he expected. At this point during the anime and manga, fusion monsters should have been different. Most of them were inside the main deck, needing only to be summoned like normal, and the rest were created off-the-cuff by the duelist, like the fusion between Mammoth Graveyard and Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon in Duelist Kingdom.


    However, when Solomon Muto gave Phil the loaner deck, two piles were specifically handed over. One was a main deck, around 40 cards in size from his rough estimate.


    The other pile was entirely made of fusion monsters, kept specifically separate by Solomon, who had a similar pile of cards separated from the main deck on his side of the table. The information fueled Phil¡¯s curiosity like dry wood fed to a hungry bonfire. If this many things were different than what he expected, what else was new?


    But that hardly mattered at the moment. There would be time to ponder his questions later. For now, Phil had a big beatstick which was perfect for saying ¡®fuck you¡¯ to the horny Griffore.


    ¡°Aight, my dragon is pretty hungry. Twin-Headed Thunder Dragon, destroy Griffore!¡±


    Phil: 4600 Solomon: 3100


    Though there were no holograms to be seen, in Phil¡¯s mind he could imagine the gaping maw of his thunder dragon monster tearing the puny Griffore to pieces. It wasn¡¯t a perfect image, but it would have to do until holograms were introduced in Duelist Kingdom, whenever that ended up happening.


    Then Phil cocked his head slightly to the side in thought. That¡¯s right, holograms were introduced before that, in Death-T by Kaiba.


    Interesting.


    With that food for thought, Phil ended his turn. Solomon drew his Horn of the Unicorn, freshly returned to the top of his deck with the death of Griffore. Yet despite that setback, the old man hardly seemed concerned, but instead looked outright giddy at the circumstances. That giddiness spread quickly to Phil, and in the corner of his eye, he could even see Lumina smiling as she watched the duel.


    Phil had forgotten how much he¡¯d missed this. The only things absent were Bastion¡¯s analytic observations, floating among the air with the voices from the rest of the old crew. For the briefest of moments, Phil¡¯s smile fell as he sank into old memories. But as soon as Solomon made his next move, Phil snapped back to the present.


    ¡°Well played.¡± Solomon praised Phil, ¡°but it seems an old friend of mine isn¡¯t willing to throw in the towel just yet. I summon Kuriboh (300/200) in defense mode, switching Celtic Guardian to defense as well! Then I will place two cards face-down, and thus my turn ends!¡±


    The first word appearing in Phil¡¯s mind, blaring a klaxon alarm alongside bright red font, was the word TRAP. Kuriboh was a card that tended to stick in the hand, mainly to get the best use out of its effect. The effect was rather useful, allowing it to be discarded from the hand during a monster attack to reduce the battle damage to zero. It was an effect that Yami Yugi had used constantly in the manga, oftentimes to save his own ass before turning the duel upside-down in his favor.


    So, a summoned Kuriboh, alongside two fresh face-downs? It was either a trap or a hell of a bluff.


    Yet, as Phil drew a card, his lack of spells in his hand meaning he would gain no life points in the standby phase, he knew there was little that could be done about it¡­


    ¡°Unless I meet it straight on!¡± Phil shouted triumphantly! Yes, it was his favorite strategy, one that in less polite company he would refer to as ¡®going balls deep¡¯. Sure, there could be a Mirror Force. But on the other hand, he had no way to destroy the backrow at this moment and giving Solomon the chance to accumulate tribute fodder (which he fully expected to be a thing since so many other parts of the game were different from the anime/manga) would be a mistake.


    ¡°I¡¯ll flip one Nimble Momonga face-up to attack mode, and go right to my battle phase!¡± Phil declared. ¡°Twin-Headed Thunder Dragon, destroy Celtic Guardian!¡±


    ¡°A bold move.¡± Solomon said with praise in his voice, ¡°Yet I cannot allow that to pass. The first of my face-down cards activates! The quick-play spell card Multiply, which in return for tributing my Kuriboh, summons as many Kuriboh Tokens (300/200) as possible in defense mode. That¡¯ll be four in total, as my Celtic Guardian still occupies my fifth monster card zone. Then, before your attack can hit home, the second part of my combo activates! First they multiply, and then they explode! Quick-play spell, Detonate, activates! By destroying all my Kuriboh tokens, I can destroy an equal number of cards on your field!¡±


    Phil laughed, letting out a loud whoop of joy that filled the game store, quickly echoed by Joey Wheeler as he too got wombo-comboed by Yugi Muto in the most brutal of fashions. Lumina stumbled back, her hand held over her heart in mock, exaggerated shock. One by one Phil''s entire board was destroyed. Twin-Headed Thunder Dragon, both Nimble Momongas, and Forced Requisition all plummeted into the depths of his graveyard. Worst of all, the effect of Nimble Momonga wouldn¡¯t activate in this situation, as the required trigger was battle destruction, not effect destruction, or destruction in general. They had to be destroyed by battle.


    ¡°Phil¡¯s down! Will he ever recover? Send in the refs and the doctors!¡± Lumina exclaimed between bouts of laughter.


    ¡°Oh boy, good thing I held some things back,¡± Phil whistled, still impressed by the blowout three-card combo that was thrown in his face just a moment before. "I place one monster in face-down defense position and end my turn."


    Solomon began his turn with a knowing grin toward Phil¡¯s face down, its name already known to him because of The Eye of Truth.


    ¡°My apologies, but it appears the counter to your monster is within my grasp. Here''s my spell card, Nobleman of Crossout! Your face-down monster is destroyed, and since it''s a flip effect monster, both of us will banish all copies of that monster from our decks!¡±


    Phil scowled, flipping the monster over to reveal Bubonic Vermin, a handy creature that could summon another copy of itself from the deck as a flip effect. It was banished, along with two more copies of it from Phil¡¯s deck, and three copies from Solomon¡¯s deck.


    ¡°Every advantage gained has a price to pay,¡± Solomon shrugged, ¡°Bubonic Vermin is powerful. Though I would have loved to use it myself, I cannot allow you to wield that power at this moment. Now! Celtic Guardian becomes equipped with the Horn of the Unicorn! Then to my field, I call upon the strength of Beaver Warrior (1200/1500)!¡±


    Celtic Guardian (1400/1200 -> 2100/1900).


    There was nothing Phil could do to prevent the damage. Both monsters attacked directly, cutting out a large chunk of his life points and putting Phil squarely on the back foot once more.


    Phil: 1300 Solomon: 3100


    But as Phil began his turn, the glimmers of determination and joy never left his eyes.


    ¡°Oh~, looks like I¡¯ve got a spell card,¡± Phil announced, meaning his life points were increased by 1000. ¡°I¡¯ll keep it for later, though. It¡¯ll be more useful in my second main phase, for now I summon Rescue Cat (300/100)!¡±


    Seeing the cute cat sporting a yellow hard hat and a safety whistle in his hand a few turns prior had surprised Phil, since he knew the card wasn¡¯t released until one of the sets right before the change of eras from DM to GX, but he wasn¡¯t one to complain about the additional oddity heaped onto the already large pile of strangeness.


    ¡°Rescue Cat won¡¯t hang around long, though, because I use its effect to tribute itself in return for summoning two level three or lower beast monsters from my deck!¡±


    This was a play Phil hadn¡¯t made for many years, not since Rescue Cat was errata¡¯d in the real world. The errata, otherwise known as an official change in the card text, was made to balance Rescue Cat, changing it so that the effects of the monsters it summoned would be negated. Yet, when Phil saw the card in his hand, he noted instantly that the text was that of the original. This was something that had occasionally happened in his previous reincarnation, with some cards having their newer erratas, and some not.


    Meaning, he could make a funny play.


    ¡°Come on out, The Wicked Worm Beast (1400/700), all two of them!¡±


    The disgusting creature, covered in worms and tentacles that crawled through what had once been an ordinary humanoid monster, was nothing out of the ordinary, other than it sported 1400 attack points. Yet, its usefulness would be revealed soon enough.


    Phil pointed right toward Beaver Warrior. ¡°Wicked Worm beast, strike down his beaver!¡±


    Phil: 1300 Solomon: 2900


    Once Beaver Warrior was destroyed, however, Phil went right into his second main phase, revealing the spell he¡¯d drawn at the start of his turn.


    ¡°Now that you only have one monster on the field, I activate my Fissure spell! It destroys the weakest monster you control, meaning your boosted Celtic Guardian bites the dust!¡±


    Solomon Muto sent the elf warrior to the graveyard with a wry smile, fully appreciating Phil¡¯s trick.


    ¡°Now on to my end phase. Of course, normally Rescue Cat¡¯s effect would destroy my two monsters at the end of my turn. But before that happens, The Wicked Worm Beasts have effects of their own! During my end phase, they get returned to my hand!¡±


    ¡°Meaning they will not be on the field in time for their own destruction.¡± Solomon mused thoughtfully.


    ¡°Yup.¡± Phil agreed. ¡°So, next turn if I don¡¯t draw anything better, I still have two 1400 attack point bruisers in my hand to work with.¡±


    Phil, of course, did not mention this play was only possible due to Rescue Cat being pre-errata in this world for some reason.


    Solomon hummed thoughtfully as he began his turn.


    ¡°Unfortunately, that move of yours has also put you at a disadvantage. With no monsters on the field, you are now susceptible to my Mystical Elf (800/2000)! Furthermore, the Horn of the Unicorn is still at my fingertips! I equip my attack position Mystical Elf with the fabled horn of legend, and strike your life points directly!


    Mystical Elf (800/2000 -> 1500/2700).


    Phil: 0 Solomon: 2900


    Phil leaned back and closed his eyes. That was game. As Solomon knew full well from the information gained through The Eye of Truth, there was no Kuriboh in Phil¡¯s hand. Out of curiosity, Phil slid the top card off his deck to see what he would have drawn next.


    ¡°Ha! Looks like the heart of the cards was with you instead of me, Solomon!¡± He laughed to himself, angling the card so Lumina could see it.


    ¡°Mirror Force.¡± Lumina giggled, ¡°You never did have Jaden¡¯s level of luck.¡±


    That was true. Jaden always had the knack for drawing the right card at the right time. Phil, however, had to make do with deckbuilding and hope. Or, as Bastion would put it, ¡®meticulous calculations¡¯. As in Bastion would make the calculations and Phil would nod along with whatever his buddy came up with.


    Noticing the curiosity mirrored in Solomon¡¯s eyes, Phil showed him the trap card that was on top of his deck, causing Solomon to join in Phil¡¯s uproarious laughter.


    ¡°My boy, that would have truly been my end!¡± Solomon exclaimed, revealing what was in his hand for Phil to see. ¡°Mystical Elf was the last monster in my hand.¡±


    ¡°Meaning I would have gotten a free turn with Mirror Force destroying your elf and spinning your horn back to the top of your deck. Well played, dude."


    "Well played indeed." Solomon echoed.


    With the duel over, Phil got up, fully intending to amble around the crowded shop for as long as Solomon would let his scruffy self remain. The place was warm and there was a ton of entertainment to be had. But, before Phil could move away, Solomon Muto spoke once more.


    ¡°My friend, I am an old man, and my memory is not what it used to be. Yet, is that not your deck on the table? You should keep a closer eye on it, in case any other duelists seek to test your might today, or any other day.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it your-¡° Phil¡¯s words died in his mouth once the meaning of Solomon Muto¡¯s words became clear. With a grateful smile, he scooped the deck off the table and placed it in his pocket, taking great care to avoid bending or damaging the cards in any way. It was all he could do until he could craft a deck box. Solomon said nothing else after that, other than wishing Phil a truly excellent day and expressing his desire to duel again in the future.


    Thus Phil wandered off, his mind still buzzing over the revelations the duel had brought. If there were this many surprises this early on, what else would be new to him?


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    Solomon Muto watched the shabby, skinny, worn-down man amble off to spectate the game between his grandson and his friend. There was something about that man, something that Solomon couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on. The man was¡­ different. Seemingly down on his luck, but his back was still straight despite it all. He still had pride in his bones. His eyes were still blazing with fighting spirit.


    Moreover, that man, Phil Jenson, was a truly powerful duelist. Most opponents would have quailed beneath the power of the ¡®detonate¡¯ combo, but Phil merely brushed it off with a laugh, rebuilding his field presence and very nearly taking back the momentum of the game that Solomon had painstakingly kept ahold of. Just from skimming through the deck a few seconds before the game started, that man had managed to summon Twin-Headed Thunder Dragon, which was a monster that could not be dealt with through ordinary means. Then, along with the summon, he¡¯d also very nearly combined it with the powers of a trap card that would have torn resources from Solomon¡¯s hand each time Phil discarded a card ¨C a move that Solomon knew all too well the deck was capable of doing.


    After seeing all that, along with how polite the man was, how could Solomon have not taken the chance to cultivate such a duelist? The duelist¡¯s spirit that thrummed through Solomon¡¯s bones ever since he¡¯d discovered the ancient game in Egypt among the bones of Pharaohs in the Valley of the Kings cried out to him, shouting that Phil Jenson could be a monstrous talent if he was only given the slight amount of resources he needed to get off the ground. He would be like a tiger given wings, as the old saying went.


    Yes, Solomon hummed joyfully to himself as he strolled through the packed aisles of the game store, his decision was the correct one. This game had the potential to shake the world, and it was both his duty and pleasure as an old man to help the youth realize that dream. It would transcend status, age, and all the other norms of the old world to create a new future! One where a battered, grimy man down on his luck could play on even ground with anyone he wished to!


    Such was the destiny of duelists who fought with the heart of the cards on their side!

 Chapter 2 - Borger Time With Froge And Friends

    The previous day had given Phil much to think about. Solomon Muto¡¯s kindness, the confirmation of his place in the timeline, and a chance to clear his head. In the hectic aftermath of his sudden reincarnation, those were welcome reprieves amid the freezing cold snow. Once Phil had gotten back to the small camp under the bridge, he spent hours familiarizing himself with the deck Solomon gifted him. Every card, every effect, every small combo that the deck, as rudimentary as it was by modern (or even GOAT format) standards, could bring to bear were committed to memory. It wasn¡¯t consistent. What power the deck had tended to be locked behind various conditions Phil would have to meet, but it was better than nothing.


    Better than nothing, Phil comforted himself with that fact. Considering just how many people were in Kame Game alone, he had to assume that Duel Monsters, though early in its days, was popping off like crazy. Yes, early days. Phil knew that for a fact now, as moments before he left the shop, he''d overheard Solomon mention his Blue-Eyes White Dragon card in hushed tones. Hushed, but not mournful. Meaning the card was still yet to be destroyed by Seto Kaiba.


    Those thoughts, among others, had seen the rest of the day fly by in a flash before night came. Phil slept fitfully by the fire contained in the steel drum. It was not out of fear of his deck being stolen, though it was his only possession besides the clothes on his back. Lumina stood guard, assuring Phil that her need for sleep was nonexistent. Just like eating, she only slept to keep a routine (something she claimed even the oldest duel spirits did. It apparently helped keep a spirit¡¯s sanity intact even after millions of years of existence flew by).


    His fitful sleep was for other reasons. With no mission given by the Lightsworn Corporation, there was no obvious way to get home. Meanwhile, D.3.S. Frog was still extremely weakened after protecting him from the backlash of a lost shadow game at Duel Academy. In a nutshell, while he had the short-term goals of ¡®staying alive¡¯ and ¡®making fat stacks of cash off of dueling¡¯, his long-term goals of ¡®getting home¡¯ and ¡®helping Lumina¡¯ felt pretty unobtainable at the moment.


    But as the sun rose in the morning sky once more, Phil was met with another surprise. He¡¯d been in the middle of a hushed conversation with Lumina, heedless of what it may have looked like to the casual observer (who would be unable to see Lumina). A man approached, casually sitting on the ground next to Phil to warm his hands by the fire. The space around the barrel was crowded, surrounded by a throng of filthy men and women trying to keep away the chill of the morning. Phil, politely, muttered a word of greeting toward the man.


    And the man stared back at him, eyes as wide as saucers with shock.


    The man had long, tangled hair that fell in a mess to touch the top of his shoulders. On top of his head was a knitted hat that was so stained by dirt that the original color was impossible to see. A goatee, at one point lovingly maintained, but now quite neglected, decorated the man¡¯s chin. His clothing was as ragged as Phil was, though at a closer look, that had not always been the case. He wore a purple suit, one that was wrinkled and torn by the natural effects of a hard life. Underneath that poked a stained and dirty white dress shirt, its collar ragged at the edges. He wore a pair of khaki pants ¨C pants that were as dirty and full of holes as his suit ¨C which if the outfit was still in its prime, would have pulled together the ensemble to give the man a rather professional look. His shoes were a pair of beaten-down black leather loafers, those too being a hint at a life that was once fancy, but was now stained, tired, and penniless.


    ¡°French?¡± The man whispered in wonder at first, but then his voice with excitement as he spoke with an odd accent to his words. ¡°Forgive my rudeness, but is this a fellow countryman in a strange land that I spy before my very eyes?¡± The man looked closer, peering at Phil¡¯s face, before continuing. ¡°Hm, not quite so, unless you, a Japanese man, once had the fortune to visit my home country. No matter! My friend, you have no idea how much of a blessing it is to finally hear words I understand!¡±


    Phil sent a side-eye toward Lumina, who shrugged back. The man hardly seemed bothered by the fact that Lumina was still invisible, and Phil would have appeared to be having an animated conversation with thin air.


    The man, mistakenly thinking his lack of response for hesitation, stood up and bowed elegantly. Despite the man¡¯s overall raggedness and lean look that spoke of a lack of regular meals, his bow swept a smooth arc through the air.


    ¡°My dearest friend, allow me to introduce myself! I am Jean Dubois, a proud Frenchman and a true lover of women! To meet a man such as yourself who possesses such a mastery over the beautiful language of my home country, this must be fate at work. I am forever in your debt! May our friendship endure the tallest of waves and the most frightening of storms!¡±


    Phil stared at Jean Dubois, finally getting the picture. The man was a foreigner who didn¡¯t speak Japanese and probably lacked any sort of money to get home. With whatever translation magic Lumina or D.3.S. had going, this was probably the first time in who knew how long that Jean had met someone he could actually talk to. The dude seemed like a nice guy, at least. There was something about him, a sort of magnetic part of his personality that in all honesty, reminded Phil of Jaden. They both had that ability to make a guy want to be friends with them.


    ¡°Sure, okay.¡± Phil shrugged amicably, taking Jean¡¯s outstretched hand in his own and shaking it firmly, ¡°I¡¯m Phil. Good to meet a brother in a strange land.¡±


    Jean sat down next to Phil, and while the man chattered away about nothing in particular, Phil shot another glance toward Lumina.


    ¡°Translation magic isn¡¯t limited to just Japanese,¡± Lumina nodded toward the joyful Frenchman, ¡°Whenever you speak, people will hear your words in the language they know best, just as you hear everything in English. It¡¯s the same as last time, only instead of it being a part of the Lightsworn Corporation Reincarnator Courtesy Package, I¡¯m the one powering it.¡±


    Before Phil could follow up, though, Lumina continued to speak, her face filling with equal parts exasperation toward the Lightsworns and concern toward Phil. The realization of that concern was enough for a lump to form in Phil''s throat. To think, after all the shit she had to deal with because she worked with assholes and interfered too much last time, Lumina still brushed aside her own problems to help him out without a second of hesitation.


    ¡°Yeah. You¡¯d better enjoy it. Since I left the corporation, I lost access to the employee magic generator. What spells I can still cast after that are limited. I used up a lot of my magic finding you in the first place. Then add a slow drain for the translation magic. On top of that drain, add another one. That one¡¯s powering the magic keeping your body from self-destructing over drug withdrawal symptoms because Ryko¡¯s a dirtbag and shoved your soul in a dead crackhead. With all that in play, there isn¡¯t much else I can do other than stay invisible and keep my interactions with the physical world as short as possible.¡±


    Phil nodded in understanding, tucking away the rather ominous ¡®withdrawal¡¯ issue for future Phil to deal with since present Phil had no idea how to fix that. The two takeaways from Lumina¡¯s words were pretty obvious. He couldn¡¯t expect any more friendly magic until D.3.S. got some food in his belly, and Lumina was once again putting her neck on the line to save his ass. From what Jean was describing in rapid-fire French, you either spoke Japanese or spoke to no one, because no one would understand you or even bother to understand you. It had nearly driven the extrovert Frenchman mad in those years he¡¯d been in Japan so far.


    ¡°Oui, Monsieur, I have learned that one must always watch the wallet, even in a country as nice as Japan!¡± Jean laughed with only a slight amount of bitterness in his voice. ¡°After being pickpocketed moments after entering the airport, I was left with no plane tickets, no money, and no way to get home.¡±


    Upon hearing two words that failed to translate, Lumina spoke with a frown before Phil could ask.


    ¡°He¡¯s talking too fast. It¡¯s causing my translation magic to skip a word or two.¡±


    Phil tucked away that information and replied to Jean with a rueful smile. ¡°I woke up in this park with no ID and no money myself.¡±


    Jean put his arm around Phil, both of them laughing over their shared misfortune.


    ¡°Then!¡± Jean cheered, ¡°We truly are brothers, if by misfortune alone!¡± Jean then pulled away, digging in his tattered pockets for a few seconds before pulling out a wrinkled pack of cigarettes. It was mostly empty, with only a few cigarettes left in it, and Jean offered one to Phil while he took another.


    ¡°Ah, sorry mate. I don¡¯t smoke.¡± Phil waved a hand to decline. Jean shrugged and lit his up, taking a deep puff in celebration.


    Jean leaned his head away to blow a large cloud of smoke in the opposite direction of Phil, before fishing around in his pockets once more.


    ¡°Say, how about we get out of the cold for a bit?¡± Jean said, ¡°I have a coin or two scrounged up, and I know this place a couple of blocks away where the coffee''s cheap. If we time it right, there''s this really nice waitress who''ll let us sit at one of the tables near the back until her shift ends, so long as we don¡¯t cause trouble. Or at least that¡¯s what I think she was miming to me last time, and I haven¡¯t gotten kicked out yet.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good to me.¡± Phil replied. While the barrel had some warmth to it, there was only so much fire could do to battle the frigid wind that like to howl through the underside of the bridge.


    After a few minutes of walking, the snowy streets parted to reveal a restaurant that was already somewhat familiar to Phil. A green roof, white awning, and a giant, mustached burger wearing a chef¡¯s hat on the roof.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Burger World, otherwise known as that one restaurant Tea Gardner worked at early on in the manga.


    As Jean darted up closer to the building to peer through the window, Phil stuck his hands in his frayed pockets, mind racing. Not only was this one of the places where Tea worked, but if his memory served him correctly, Atem had also set some dude on fire inside at one point.


    ¡°Phil! The nice girl¡¯s on duty! We¡¯re cleared to go in!¡± Jean called out, extinguishing the stub of his cigarette on the ground. Phil grinned, and as he followed Jean inside, he could see Tea Gardner, pink waitress¡¯s uniform and all, smile gently at them in welcome. As quietly as possible, Phil and Jean walked over to the booth at the back of the restaurant, close to a service entrance. It wasn¡¯t a place they¡¯d be easily seen from, as a wall was partially in between them and the door.


    The booths inside were splashes of red and yellow colors between the white-painted walls. A smooth, carefully maintained tile floor shone underneath, causing tiny squeaks to issue from every step of shoes made damp from the snow outside. Above, warm yellow lights shone like stars dotting the sky-blue ceiling. The calm lights added to the feeling of happy warmth that permeated the building. The restaurant, while not overflowing with people, still had plenty of customers with the mind for getting out of the cold and enjoying however much time there was left until the breakfast menu swapped to the lunch menu.


    Some were high schoolers, enjoying the day off brought by the snow closing the schools down, while others were as varied of a mix of people as one could expect for a popular family restaurant. In fact, there were even a few faces Phil could recognize. Near the front, horsing around without a care in the world, Yugi, Joey, and Tristan devoured plates stacked with pancakes several inches thick, drenched in so much syrup that the food looked like islands in the middle of a sugary, gloopy lake.


    In contrast, however, the booths in the back were fairly deserted. Other than a couple of shady individuals, and one or two salarymen, their attention fully absorbed in their newspapers as they shoveled cheesy eggs into their mouths, Phil and Jean were the only people in the back.


    In between it all raced smiling waitresses decked out in short pink dresses, each one holding aloft pots of coffee and serving trays so laden with food that they swayed dangerously in the air. The waitresses weaved around the booths and tables like dancers in motion, spilling not a drop of coffee or a morsel of food on the floor.


    The two men sat down with a grateful sigh directed toward the heated insides of the building. It was much better than the fire barrel, and soon enough Phil was able to feel his legs once more. Next to Phil sat Lumina, who, other than cracking open her familiar thermos of tea to sip from, appeared content to sit back and enjoy the ambiance.


    After only a few minutes of waiting, Tea bustled up to them, smiling first at Jean and then at Phil, who replied with a polite ''Good Morning¡¯.


    ¡°Good morning sirs! I¡¯m Tea, I¡¯ll be helping you today!" Tea cheerfully said to Phil, placing a steaming pot of coffee and two cups on the table. It was as if she could read their minds. ¡°The coffee¡¯s bottomless here, so if you run out, just give me a holler! Otherwise I¡¯ll be by in twenty!¡±


    Jean placed two grimy silver-colored one-yen coins on the table, bowing deeply in thanks before turning his full attention to the piping hot pot of coffee. Tea left soon after that, smiling and saying that while she had other customers to help, she hoped that the two would be able to enjoy the warmth for as long as her shift lasted.


    Phil watched her leave, noticing that the girl had left Jean¡¯s coins alone where they lay on the table.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    After several hours sitting in the booth talking about nothing in particular, Phil was able to readily agree that piping hot coffee in a warm restaurant was the perfect way to brush off the cold air of the outside. It felt like all his worries, while still present, were lesser than they once were.


    Tea, of course, was true to her word, stopping by every twenty minutes to make sure their coffee pot was topped up to the brim with the delicious nectar of the gods, no matter how busy she got. Each time Jean would beg (through Phil) for her to take his coins, and each time the angel in the shape of a Japanese schoolgirl would politely wave her hand in refusal. Phil almost had to do a double take to make sure Tea didn¡¯t have a literal halo hovering over her short brown hair.


    Each refusal of those coins was backed up by Tea with yet another reason as to why Jean should keep his money. That it would be simply criminal for her to let the men be frozen to their bones outside. That according to the menu, coffee was super cheap already ¨C hardly worth even charging for in the first place, she was sure it would be a matter of time before official policy made the drink complementary! That the cooks back in the kitchen were happy that their efforts to brew it up weren¡¯t going to be wasted. Eventually, even Jean¡¯s pride crumbled under her kindness, and he placed the two coins back in his pocket for another day.


    The only thing Tea did ask them for was their names, which Phil and Jean gratefully gave. After that, every time Tea dropped by their table to refill the pot of coffee, she made sure to greet them by name, no matter how busy the restaurant got.


    As the two men began to run short of conversation topics, however, Phil took out his deck and began to absentmindedly shuffle it in his hands out of habit between sips of coffee. He had a deck now. The question remained; would it be possible for him to participate in a tournament with cash prizes? Considering he had no ID or papers, which would be required for a normal job, a cash tournament felt like his best bet unless he wanted to go down the crime route.


    And at that exact moment, a note of surprise crept into the voice of Jean Dubois.


    "A fellow duelist as well? Phil, my friend, you prove yourself to be quite the Renaissance man!"


    Phil raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wait, you know how to duel too?¡±


    Jean answered by reaching into the breast pocket of his purple suit, withdrawing a familiar-looking stack of 40 cards to place on the table.


    ¡°In France, many of us learn while we are still in our mother¡¯s womb! It¡¯s been popular for years.¡± Jean grinned, ¡°But here in Japan, I was under the impression that the game was quite new.¡±


    Phil took that new information in stride. So, Duel Monsters had started abroad, instead of right here in Japan.


    ¡°Huh. How about a duel, then?¡±


    Jean nodded eagerly at the suggestion and worked with Phil to carefully wipe down the table before they set their cards out. As long as they managed their voices, the general bustle of the restaurant would be enough so that they wouldn''t draw attention. Neither of them wanted Tea to get into trouble for letting two bums hang out for free, even if it was in the back and nearly out of sight. But, before either of them could draw their starting hands, another voice spoke out.


    ¡°Duelists, huh? So, even bastards as filthy as you two can get in on the action,¡± A man said, walking up to their table from where he¡¯d originally been sitting a few booths down. The man¡¯s face was littered with scars, some small while others traveled from the bottom of his chin to the top of his forehead. He was wearing a black suit, unbuttoned at the chest so that the bright orange Hawaiian shirt underneath bloomed like a flower in a dark wasteland. Poking out just above his shirt collar was a vibrant red tattoo, the head of a snarling long-whiskered Eastern-style dragon that wound its way up his neck. The man extended a hand, one that Phil noticed was missing a pinky finger, before continuing to speak.


    ¡°Not only that, but it looks like you two losers could use some green in your life. You know, some stacks of Yen.¡±


    As Phil quickly relayed the man¡¯s words to Jean, the Frenchman leaned forward with an uncharacteristic seriousness in his eyes. Then, speaking quietly in French, Jean whispered a word of warning to Phil.


    ¡°That guy looks like bad news, mon ami.¡±


    Phil nodded. Not only was the dude sketchy as fuck, but Phil also had a pretty good idea that the man was about to suggest some sort of gambling scheme involving Duel Monsters. Why else had he come over the second Phil and Jean pulled their cards out? And while he was quite aware of the ¡®ante¡¯ rule in the manga, where the loser of a game had to give the winner their most valuable card, Phil still didn¡¯t like the idea of gambling over his favorite game.


    Though, on the other hand, wasn¡¯t cash prizing in tournaments a form of gambling, albeit a lesser one?


    Continuing without a care in the world for the words Jean had spoken that he couldn''t understand, the man grinned to reveal several gold teeth.


    ¡°See, I am part of an¡­ organization, if you will, which allows for strong duelists to get their¡­ money¡¯s worth from the game they know best. It¡¯s a better way to get some cash than trying to win a tournament, shall I say.¡±


    Each word coming out of the man''s voice was like pitch-black oil threatening to cover Phil¡¯s skin and smother the life out of it. While the man wasn¡¯t exactly precise with his words, the gist was there ¨C gambling on games of Duel Monsters.


    But how else could they make money? After leaving Kame Game, Phil had indeed considered going back and begging Solomon for a job. He had a feeling the elderly man would agree.


    He also had a feeling that the job would be given partially out of pity, instead of entirely out of merit. It was a consideration that Phil had grappled with. Struggling through life as a bum, or getting a job through pity. Survival or pride? When he voiced that to Lumina, she¡¯d shaken her head and laughed, saying that Phil¡¯s idiotic sense of self-reliance hadn¡¯t changed a bit.


    Self-reliance. He knew as well as Lumina did that it had gotten him in trouble before. Perhaps if he¡¯d gotten a teacher¡¯s help, then New York wouldn¡¯t have been such a shitshow. Maybe Dimitri would still be alive.


    Yet there was also a feeling inside him, a burning curiosity that demanded to know more about the gambling ring. The act of gambling on a children¡¯s card game maybe wasn¡¯t what Phil preferred to do, but it was far more than that. The dude was shady as fuck. He was a yakuza, or in some other similar gang, if Phil had to guess.


    And that led Phil to his conclusion. Gangsters were almost always assholes at best, and murderous animals at worst. If the people involved were evil enough¡­ Phil shot a glance down at his coat pocket, where he could feel a reassuring, amphibian presence reside. Technically it would still be the crime route, but some people were better off not being in the world. It was an unfortunate reality, a lesson learned through several painful experiences during his time at Duel Academy. No matter. If he succeeded, it would mean more magic. Maybe D.3.S. could take some of the burden off Lumina¡¯s shoulders.


    Phil reached out to offer a handshake, but the man yanked back his hand with a flicker of disgust in his eyes, instead gesturing for Phil and Jean to stand.


    ¡°Follow me, if you wish to test your might and make your fortune.¡± The man said in his oily voice. But this time, the words did not feel as disgusting as they once were.


    ¡°An adventure, it seems," Jean said as he stood, offering a reassuring nod to Phil. ¡°We¡¯ll watch each other¡¯s backs, yes?¡±


    Phil¡¯s hand met Jean¡¯s in a rough handshake. ¡°I¡¯ve got yours if you¡¯ve got mine.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ve got yours too, Phil.¡± Lumina spoke up, cracking her knuckles threateningly, while an ominous croak echoed out of his coat pocket.


    Thus the two men, after bowing deeply to Tea in thanks, winded their way out of the restaurant. Tea, as busy as she was with helping customers, managed to shoot a wink back, mouthing the words ¡®keep safe!¡¯ before they left. As the shady man left, however, Tea¡¯s eyes narrowed, before she shot another look toward Phil that simply conveyed the words, ¡®I hope you know what you¡¯re doing¡¯. At that moment Phil knew the second he gave the signal, Tea Gardner would come rushing over to de-escalate the situation, to help two men she hardly knew. Doubtlessly Joey, who was still wolfing down pancakes a few feet away, would also see Tea¡¯s movement and stand up to fold the yakuza in half with Tristan.


    It was just who she was. Kind and caring to a fault, even to two bums she barely knew.


    However, Phil gave her a reassuring nod. He had a good idea of what was to come, and if he was right, then it would be best for her not to be involved when D.3.S. got his share of food.


    Outside in the cold winter wind, the scarred man beckoned impatiently for Phil and Jean to follow. In the far distance, pointed out by the man, who had introduced himself as ¡®Chet¡¯, was a building that shimmered with bright purple neon lights and positively stank of desperation.

 Chapter 3 - Neon Monk Funk

    Domino City Game Parlor. Those words were etched into a sign outside of the building Chet led Phil and Jean to. Like the edges of the building itself, the sign glowed with bright neon lights, though these were a cool light blue compared to the bright purple lights of the parlor. However, neither the blue nor the purple lights, as bright as they were, could fully distract Phil from noticing the general griminess of the game parlor. Each edge on the outside of the parlor looked greasy and dirty, as if the cracked brick surface hadn''t been given a good power washing since the business was first established ¨C and from the looks of the outside decor, that establishment had probably happened in the 50s at the very least.


    As Chet beckoned the two men inside, however, their surroundings became an even more drastic mixture of bright shiny neon and barely hidden decay. Wooden paneling covered the inside walls instead of any sensible sort of wallpaper, and a horrible green shag carpeting covered the ground like an eye-burning mockery of a grass lawn. Like Burger World, the inside of the parlor was heated to combat the cold threatening to invade from the outside. But, unlike Burger World, this heat felt a lot less ¡®homey¡¯. It felt sickly, like a warm parasite trying to burrow into Phil¡¯s bones to suck out what strength was left in his malnourished body. In a way, it was like the same horrid warmth one would feel when succumbing to extreme cold. All Phil had to do was sit down, close his eyes, and then he would sink into that horrid warmth to never wake up again.


    Sprinkled liberally around the inside of the game parlor, like wide polished tree stumps poking out of a shaggy grass lawn, there were countless gaming tables with crowds of people clustered around each one. These were no fancy hologram tables that could make the monsters come to life. They were ordinary gaming tables that seemed, after a second glance, to have been repurposed from poker or blackjack to this new sensational card game. Of course, they weren¡¯t just covered with Duel Monster cards. Stacks of plastic chips, some of which reached several feet into the air, balanced precariously next to each person sitting at the table.


    Strips of neon lights in almost every color imaginable lined the edges of each table, throwing out puddles of bright light that fought valiantly with the inherent dimness of the rest of the room, which was barely lit by a handful of struggling ceiling lamps with lightbulbs that looked like they hadn¡¯t been changed since the parlor was built. The light provided by the strips of neon lights served to give an almost ghoulish look to the men sitting at each table as it washed over their faces, casting shadows over scarred cheeks and stoney eyes.


    Then there was the smell. Someone in the management had placed several scented candles across the room in an attempt to freshen things up, but it was futile when pitted against the stench of cigarette smoke infesting the air. Nearly every other person in the establishment was puffing away on a cigarette or a cigar while they played, watched, or chatted away. The burning ends of each cigarette were tiny red stars dotting the dim space of the parlor. The stink pushed its way into every crevice, and if the dim light had been replaced with something brighter, Phil could imagine even the wood paneling being yellowed with smoke.


    However, cigarette smoke was not the only thing the parlor stank of. The smell of desperate men filled the air. It was a smell that was similar to what a guy would smell like after not bathing or having a good meal for a few weeks. The stench was thick and seemed to press down on Phil¡¯s shoulders more the longer he stayed inside the parlor.


    Near the edge of the room sat a bar. Despite the crowd surrounding it, there was only a single bartender behind it. He was a tall, scarred man, a foreigner of some sort who wordlessly poured drinks into dirty glasses to slide across the polished wooden counter to the crowd without missing a beat. A feeling of disgust, with just a tiny hint of longing, swept over Phil''s heart at the sight, but he wrenched his gaze away to focus back on Chet, who was leading them to a table near the edge of the room.


    ¡®A place to test your might and make your fortune¡¯, the yakuza¡¯s words rang in Phil¡¯s ears as he remembered what the man said back in Burger World. The words made more sense now. This was a place to gamble over the outcome of a Duel Monsters game.


    The thought sent a slightly sickened feeling down to the bottom of Phil¡¯s stomach. Sure, he¡¯d had an idea that this was what Chet wanted to show them, ever since the man first opened his mouth. Still, an idea was a bit different than seeing it in action. Duel Monsters (or Yu-Gi-Oh!, as Phil knew it) was a game he loved. He was also pretty decent at it, if he did say so himself. Gambling over it could net Phil and Jean a way out of the shit situation called ¡®living under a bridge with not a cent to their name¡¯.


    That didn¡¯t mean Phil had to like the idea of gambling over a game he grew up playing. He would do it. As soon as Chet revealed how to participate, Phil would throw his chips down. But he still wouldn¡¯t like it.


    ¡°Think of it this way,¡± Lumina said, managing to perfectly read Phil¡¯s inner thoughts without him even saying a word on the subject. She was getting quite good at that lately. Or perhaps she had gained that ability long before now. They had lived together in the same dorm room for several years before this, after all. ¡°In shadow games, you¡¯re gambling over your life. In ante games, you¡¯re gambling over your best card. Here you¡¯re just swapping that stuff for money. It¡¯s the same idea, right?¡±


    Phil shrugged, keeping the movement small enough so that only Lumina noticed it. He knew. He knew that his thoughts on the topic were stupid. It wasn''t like he was about to pass on the chance to get cash over some idiotic moral shit. He didn''t have the luxury of that. Hell, what moral high ground did Phil even have at this point? He already had blood on his hands several times over. Compared to murder, gambling over something he cared about wasn¡¯t much to cry about.


    As Phil and Jean neared the edges of the room, the crowd gradually thinned out and the people sitting at the tables looked far shabbier than the men near the center. Several doors dotted the wood-paneled wall in this area. Most were closed shut, but one was cracked open, which allowed Phil to briefly catch a glimpse of a steel tub, one that was big enough for a grown man to comfortably fit in, right next to what looked to be a white freezer, its door dotted with splotches of grey mold.


    Then Chet stopped, and Phil looked away from the room to focus on the table before them.


    ¡°Monsieur Phil, I believe this is our stop,¡± Jean muttered from beside Phil. The excitement normally displayed by the Frenchman was tempered by the seedy atmosphere of the duel parlor. Phil couldn¡¯t help but understand that.


    Chet, ignoring the words Jean spoke (as he was unable to understand them), gestured toward two men already sitting at the table. Each of the men had an extremely shabby air about them, one that was only barely beaten by the shabbiness Phil and Jean possessed. The first one, who Chet introduced as Taka, wore a white long-sleeved dress shirt that would normally be worn under a suit coat. The sleeves on it were rolled up to display a set of hairy arms. One of his hands, its nails yellowed by neglect, clutched a smoking cigarette, while the other played nervously with a splinter sticking out from the end of the table. Taka''s head was devoid of hair, looking like a shiny cue ball. The man appeared to be in his 50s or 60s. In any other place, he could have easily been mistaken for an ordinary salaryman nearing retirement, but here he simply looked like an old gambler running short on luck.


    The second man, who Chet introduced as Makoto, was a man only a shade younger than Taka. Appearing to be in his mid-40s, Makoto wore a blue floral short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt that hung loosely over his skinny frame. He had a full head of hair, greasy strings of it that were swept up behind his head into a loose rat tail that barely extended past the nape of his neck. Similar to Taka, Makoto also looked ragged, as if he¡¯d been at this parlor for years and had been straight out of luck for the past few months, to the point that he barely had anything left to bet other than the shirt off his back. However, unlike Taka, Makoto was not smoking, though there was a glass a quarter full of amber liquid placed on the edge of the table before him.


    ¡°Each of the blue chips is worth 1,500 yen (~$10), the black chips are 15,000 yen (~$100), the greens are 75,000 yen (~$500), and the red chips, those are the real money. The red chips are a cool 150,000 yen a pop (~$1000)¡± Chet explained. As he did, Taka and Makoto stared wordlessly at Phil and Jean, their eyes tracking their every movement like predators would for prey. Only, Phil got the feeling that perhaps those men were prey pretending to be predators, or prey that did not realize they were the prey, whether that be to Phil and Jean, or to the establishment itself.


    "A minimum of 15,000 yen is needed for the starting buy-in. After that, it''s up to the players to decide how much to bet, and who to play against. However, if the stakes are raised throughout the game, you may be asked to leave if you decline to match that raise too many times, while still having chips to spare. Naturally, since you two are newbies, none of the high rollers will want to play against you, not until you have some rep. Won''t be worth their time otherwise. Taka and Makoto here, well these fine gentlemen are happy to duel against anyone, regardless of status."


    Phil helplessly shrugged. "That''s fine, mate, but forget the buy-in. I think Jean and I maybe have one or two yen to rub together at the most. Thought you could tell from our whole get-up."


    Then Chet laughed. The action in a normal situation would have sounded light-hearted, but amid the grime and the buzzing chatter of the parlor, it sounded slightly malicious. The man''s voice turned darker as he spoke, and a cruel glimmer sparked in his eyes.


    ¡°You have two kidneys, do you not? Using one of those as collateral, the house will give you five reds per kidney. If you bet smart and play well, we might not even have to collect~!¡±


    In an instant, Phil realized the meaning behind the room with the metal tub. It was a bathtub, and the freezer was full of ice. Leaning with her arms crossed against the table next to Phil, unseen to all other than the reincarnator, Lumina let out a short curse.


    ¡°Slimy bastards, using desperate people like this.¡±


    In other words, Chet wasn''t joking. This was a place where, as long as one had collateral, that being money, an organ, or anything else of value, one could gamble over Duel Monsters to their heart''s content.


    Once Phil relayed Chet¡¯s words over to Jean, his friend narrowed his eyes in disgust.


    ¡°Merci, this place is disgusting. Gambling over a game is one thing. It is something man has done since the very beginning. But organ harvesting? It is a wonder that the cops have not shut this place down yet.¡±


    Phil nodded in agreement.


    ¡°Yeah. But what else can we do? We need money and this place doesn¡¯t give a shit about any sort of papers or documentation other than cold hard yen. If that fire barrel at the bridge goes out at the wrong time, we die in our sleep. If we go long enough on too little food, we starve to death.¡±


    Jean fixed Phil with a steady gaze. The man, despite his cautions, did not appear scared of the fact that if they continued, their kidneys could end up being cut out in an ice bath.


    ¡°Oui, Monsieur. If we fail to grasp this opportunity, then our only hope will be lady luck. I am confident in my skills. Are you, my friend?¡±


    Phil grasped Jean¡¯s hand in his own, nodding resolutely. All they had to do was avoid losing and pay back the parlor as fast as possible to avoid the ice bath route.


    "Fuck it. Let''s bet our kidneys on a fucking children''s card game. We''ll put up one of mine first. If we wipe out here, then it''s your turn."


    ¡°Ah, how exciting! May our cards strike true, and our friendship prove to be that of legend!¡± Jean laughed, taking a seat next to Phil at the table opposite Taka and Makoto.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    Once Phil and Jean expressed their interest in participating, Chet placed a form in front of them to sign while he sauntered over to a small counter in the corner of the room that Phil hadn¡¯t noticed when he first walked in. The marble counter was manned by a cheerful woman in a black pencil skirt and a white shirt. Her hair, jet black and kept together in a businesslike braid, rested over her shoulder, and she greeted Chet with a professional bow. It only took her a few seconds to slide over four red chips and ten black chips across the counter to the shady man.


    By the time Chet came back, the forms were signed in Phil''s and Jean''s equally sloppy handwriting. Chet pushed the handful of chips between them, and pulling a chair over to the middle side of the table, leaned back and placed his feet on the wood.


    ¡°Here¡¯s how it¡¯ll go,¡± Chet explained in a sleazy tone, casually striking up a match against the bottom of one of his shoes to light a cigarette. ¡°Since you two are newbies, I will be the witness for this duel. Two versus two, tag duel format. Shared life points between teams, and you must clear both of your opponent¡¯s fields before a direct attack can be made. Taka, as the elder at this table, will be allowed the coin flip so he can play before he dies of old age. Heads, he goes first. Tails, he goes last. Turns alternate diagonally. Oh, and you should probably duel at least well enough to make me confident in your skills. Otherwise, I¡¯ll have to make sure the house gets its due a bit earlier than you would probably like if you catch my drift."


    Phil sat back in his wooden chair, the joints of it creaking ominously as he moved. That meant, if Taka got heads, it would be Taka, then Jean, then Makoto, then Phil with the first attack. If it was tails, then the order would be opposite, and Taka would get the first attack. He could see from the two life point counters built into the side of each end of the table that they would be two 4000 totals, with Phil and Jean sharing one, while Taka and Makoto shared the other. Less life points to chew through than if each person had their own counter, but there would be more obstacles to clear before a direct attack could be made.


    Then there was the whole ¡®confidence¡¯ angle from Chet. Phil understood him perfectly. Right now, Chet wasn¡¯t sure if Phil and Jean could play well enough and make enough money to pay the house back. If that feeling of being unsure turned to something more definite, Chet would pull out the ice bath to make sure the house got their money before Phil and Jean got wiped out for good and fled.


    Once Chet¡¯s brief explanation was over, Taka wordlessly spun the simple gold-colored coin into the air, where it danced between the shadows that the neon lights before coming to a rest in his liver-spotted palm. Taka¡¯s tongue, looking almost like a slug turned grey from decades of cigarette smoke, darted out to moisten his lips as he slapped the coin onto the back of his wrist.


    ¡°Heads,¡± Taka spoke for the first time since they were introduced, ¡°I shall be going first, then.¡±


    Phil and Jean: 4000 Taka and Makoto: 4000


    Phil slid one black chip to the center of the table for the buy-in. Taka and Makoto mirrored his move.


    As each man at the table drew their starting hands, Taka wasted no time beginning his turn.


    ¡°My spell card activates, Stray Lambs.¡± Taka announced. ¡°It allows me to summon two Lamb Tokens (0/0) in defense position. Then I end my turn.¡±


    ¡°Draw!¡± Jean said. Phil moved with a start, echoing Jean¡¯s words as he belatedly remembered that none of the other men at the table spoke French (or had handy translation magic like Phil). Jean shot over a curious glance at Phil, doubtlessly wondering why to his ears, Phil was still speaking French, but the man did not comment on the oddity. ¡°Phil! I shall take the defense, you shall take the offense, yes?¡±


    Phil did not translate those words. He simply smiled and nodded, taking the slight advantage as what it was ¨C that their opponents would not know for sure if Jean''s next play would be offense or defense.


    ¡°In that case, I summon Sealmaster Meisei (1100/900) in attack position!¡± Jean placed the monster flat on the wooden table. Phil raised an eyebrow at the play, but said nothing. It had been a hot minute since he¡¯d seen that monster in play. In fact¡­ a memory flashed by, made hazy by time and the fact that he was absolutely fucking wasted during that duel, of a tag duel similar to this one, though his organs weren¡¯t collateral then. Heck, he didn¡¯t even remember the end, having blacked out around the midpoint of the tag duel.


    Poor Syrus, having to deal with a drunk Phil during a tag duel that was the only thing between them and getting reported by Jasmine and Mindy.


    But Phil wasn¡¯t drunk now, and monster, its card art looking like a grim Shinto priest getting ready for an exorcism, was being played by an ally instead of an opponent.


    ¡°I¡¯ll follow that up with the continuous spell, Talisman of Trap Sealing!¡± Jean continued, ¡°So long as the Sealmaster and this spell card both remain on the field, trap cards cannot be activated, and their effects on the field are negated! Turn end!¡±


    Makoto began his turn with his lip curled in disgust toward Jean¡¯s spellcaster monster. That reaction alone heightened Phil¡¯s curiosity. Either Makoto was one of those players who despised floodgates (as in cards that outright prevented certain types of cards from being played), or the man had a trap or two in his hand that he wanted to make use of.


    ¡°Witch of the Black Forest (1100/1200), defense mode. I will follow that with one card face-down and my turn shall end.¡±


    And with those quick turns, it was now up to Phil¡¯s move. He had the first attack, being the last person seated around the table to go.


    ¡°Draw!¡± Phil said, his voice distracted as he contemplated his hand. Jean was taking care of the defense, locking down any and all trap cards so they couldn¡¯t be used to stymie Phil¡¯s offense. A move like that wasn¡¯t out of the ordinary in a tag duel, having one person attack while the other defended.


    The problem was, while he could still press the advantage Jean gave him, the moves he could make were still a little less impactful than he could have hoped.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Phil made up his mind and launched into his main phase. ¡°By discarding one Thunder Dragon, I can add two more to my hand. Next up, I summon Sangan (1000/600) in attack mode, following that with the activation of my equip spell! By discarding one of my Thunder Dragons, I can give Sangan a nice power boost with the Wicked-Breaking Flamberge ¨C Baou! It¡¯ll be a solid 500 increase.¡±


    Sangan (1000/600 -> 1500/600).


    However, that wasn¡¯t the only reason why Phil kept that card in the deck Solomon gave him. Sure, it was only a 500 attack point boost. But as Phil entered his battle phase and ordered his Sangan to destroy Makoto¡¯s monster, the other effect of Baou kicked in.


    "Ah!" Phil said, holding up a finger before Makoto could activate the witch''s effect to search, "When the monster Baou is equipped to destroys a monster by battle, the effects of that destroyed monster are negated! That means your search effect gets nixed, my good sir.¡±


    As Phil ended his turn, Taka started his with a scowl. That was the other thing ¨C 1500 attack points was a little bit¡­ interesting to beat over without a bit of preparation or luck at this point in the game¡¯s history, even before taking into consideration the negation effect.


    Shooting a glance over his Lamb Tokens, which were still untouched, Taka merely placed one card face-down and ended his turn.


    Phil tilted his head slightly to the side. Perhaps this was the reason why both of the men opposite of him were at this specific table that allowed newbies. They were either down on their luck¡­ or the men were just not very good at the game.


    ¡°Draw!¡± Jean shouted, with Phil continuing to echo his words for their opponent¡¯s benefit. ¡°It seems our decks are more compatible than I first thought, my friend! So, let¡¯s turn up the heat! I activate the field spell, Yami! This spell allows for all Fiend and Spellcaster monsters on the field to gain 200 attack and defense points!¡±


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Sealmaster Meisei (1100/900 -> 1300/1100), Sangan (1500/600 -> 1700/600).


    Phil glanced at Jean¡¯s field spell, a card that looked like a formless vortex of shadows. That was another somewhat unexpected development. While he''d heard of the card before, he didn''t expect to see it before Duelist Kingdom, where field spells like that (among others) were baked right into each duel box on the island to give reliable terrain-related boosts.


    Truly, he couldn¡¯t be sure of anything at this point, could he?


    Jean moved right into the offense, using his boosted Sealmaster to clear off one of the two Lamb Tokens from the field and ending his turn by setting one card face-down.


    Before drawing a card to start his turn, Makoto drained the contents of his glass and raised his hand limply into the air. Within seconds, a woman in a thin black pencil skirt (though not the same woman as the one at the chip counter) came walking up to stand next to the table, and Makoto hurriedly ordered another whiskey, to be placed on his tab.  The woman wordlessly bowed and disappeared in a flutter of hair toward the bar.


    ¡°My turn.¡± Makoto said in a hoarse voice. Once he drew his starting card, a flicker of relief passed across his face nearly too fast for Phil to notice. He smoothed out the collar of his shirt with his empty hand, before using it to reveal one card to Phil and Jean.


    ¡°Mystical Space Typhoon. Its target is your Talisman of Trap Sealing.¡±


    Once Phil translated those words to Jean, the ragged Frenchman held out a finger, complementing the man for his strategy while he flipped over the face-down he¡¯d set the turn prior.


    ¡°Well done, Monsieur, however, allow me to extract one last bit of value from my card. Introducing the quick-play spell, Emergency Provisions! By sending my Talisman to the graveyard, I shall gain 1000 life points!¡±


    Phil and Jean: 5000 Taka and Makoto: 4000


    ¡°No matter.¡± Makoto replied. ¡°The seal you placed on our traps is destroyed. Now, I summon a Sangan of my own, following it with the activation of my ritual spell, Doraido¡¯s Blessing! By sacrificing my Sangan, I ritual summon Elemental Mistress Doriado (1200/1400) in attack position!¡±


    Elemental Mistress Doraido (1200/1400 -> 1400/1600).


    The card art of the ritual monster featured a blonde woman wearing a strange red hat, her hands clasped together in prayer. This was another card Phil recognized. While it boasted no notable stats, it was one of the few cards in the game with an effect that treated it as every attribute possible all at the same time. Most of the time that effect was not very useful, but the card was often played alongside traps that required the full set of attributes to be on the field for activation.


    Once Makoto resolved Sangan¡¯s search effect, adding a monster called ¡®Element Valkyrie¡¯ to his hand, one of those very same cards was revealed.


    ¡°Revealing my trap card! Strike, Fuh-Rin-Ka-Zan! Because the wind, water, fire, and earth attributes are present on my field, I may choose one of this card¡¯s four effects to apply. My choice will be the first one, that will destroy all monsters my opponent controls!¡±


    ¡°And in the rules of this tag duel, that applies to both opponents!¡± Chet cackled from where he sat, clearly enjoying the rapid reversal of circumstances. ¡°Now, shall I give the word for the back room to be prepped? Or are you two bums gonna show me a better time?¡±


    ¡°A few seconds.¡± Lumina muttered angrily, clenching her fists as she stared daggers at Chet, ¡°I could become tangible, coat the room with his blood, and flip back on my invisibility before most of these cretins would even notice. I could do all that in a few seconds with only a thimbles-worth of magic.¡±


    While Phil could easily agree that Chet was certainly a grade-A cunt, he sent a mysterious smile toward Lumina to signal that the game wasn¡¯t over quite yet, even as Jean¡¯s Sealmaster and Phil¡¯s Sangan both plummeted to the graveyard. The effect of Phil¡¯s Sangan was still triggered by the destruction, so Phil added a Nimble Momonga to his hand.


    Makoto paused before his next move as the waitress came back with his drink, sipping on it before summoning the Element Valkyrie (1500/1200) he¡¯d searched with Sangan. The woman displayed in the card art was a fiery-haired girl, clutching a staff with fire on one end, and water on the other, which along with its name hinted at an attribute-related ability.


    ¡°Then, as there is a fire attribute monster on the field,¡± Makoto explained, ¡°Element Valkyrie will gain 500 attack points, though it will lose 200 points due to Yami¡¯s effect, as it is a fairy monster.¡±


    Element Valkyrie (1500/1200 -> 1800/1000).


    At this point, Taka threw two black chips into the center of the table. Phil and Jean shared a look, and then they each threw a black chip of their own in to match the raise.


    ¡°Battle begins!¡± Makoto declared, stabbing a finger in the air toward Phil and Jean in a display of youthful energy one wouldn¡¯t expect to see from the downtrodden man. ¡°Doriado and Element Valkyrie both attack directly!¡±


    Phil and Jean: 1800 Taka and Makoto: 4000


    Jean winced at the damage, but Phil remained calm. The duel wouldn¡¯t end until their life points reached zero. Until then, those were just another resource to be used as he saw fit.


    ¡°My turn.¡± Phil declared as Makoto ended his own by placing a card face-down. Though the flow of the duel had momentarily been taken away from them, Phil confidently moved into his next play with the same aggression he¡¯d displayed before the Sealmaster bit the dust.


    ¡°First off, I¡¯ll slap down my Nimble Momonga (1000/100) in attack mode. Then, by banishing the two Thunder Dragons in my graveyard from the game, here¡¯s the Soul of Purity and Light (2000/1800)!¡±


    Soul of Purity and Light (2000/1800 -> 1800/1600).


    While Phil¡¯s new angelic monster did lose 200 attack and defense points due to Jean¡¯s field spell, it was still a formidable monster that could easily kill Makoto¡¯s Doriado ritual.


    ¡°Battle phase!¡± Phil declared without missing a beat, ¡°Soul of Purity and Light wipes out the Doriado, while Nimble Momonga takes care of that last Lamb Token!¡±


    Now that the ritual monster had left the field, Element Valkyrie¡¯s attack points plummeted down to 1300, a number that was much more manageable to beat over.


    Taka stubbed out the end of his cigarette in an ashtray built into the side of his table, wasting not a single second before lighting up another cigarette to replace the first.


    ¡°Vampiric Orchis (1700/1000), to me!¡± The man cried as his turn began. ¡°It was normal summoned, so that will cause its effect to activate to special summon one Des Dendle (300/2000) from my hand in defense mode!¡±


    Taka¡¯s hands trembled as he launched into the next part of his turn, the man¡¯s age showing itself through his excitement over performing the combo. ¡°Des Dendle possesses a ¡®union¡¯ effect! Once per turn, I can equip it to my Vampiric Orchis as an equip spell. Then while it stays equipped, each time my Orchis destroys a monster, a Wicked Plant Token (800/800) is summoned to my side of the field. I place one card face down, and then the battle shall begin!¡±


    Phil smirked, gesturing to his side of the field.


    ¡°Sure, but have fun doing battle now that the effect of Soul of Purity and Light activates! During my opponent¡¯s battle phase, your monsters temporarily lose 300 attack points!¡±


    Vampiric Orchis (1700/1000 -> 1400/1000).


    "No matter." Taka snorted derisively. "My target was your Nimble Momonga, to begin with!"


    ¡°Which means its effect activates, healing us for 1000 life points and pulling two more Momonga¡¯s to the field in face-down defense position,¡± Phil countered in a casual voice.


    Phil and Jean: 2400 Taka and Makoto: 4000


    Taka did not reply to that, merely placing a token on the field and setting one card face down to end his turn.


    Jean sat upright in his chair from where he had been cautiously watching the state of the game. His side of the field was completely empty, his Sealmaster lock having been defeated by Makoto¡¯s power play. Yet, the fight had not left the Frenchman¡¯s eyes, which still blazed with a fiery duelist¡¯s spirit. Wordlessly, Jean activated Pot of Greed to draw two more cards and then turned to look at Phil.


    ¡°Phil, I seem to remember pledging my efforts to the defense of our cause. However, a new development has shown itself in my hand. As they say, c¡¯est la vie, mon ami! The time for an offense is now!¡±


    Phil grinned at Jean¡¯s words. ¡°Hey now, they say the best defense is a good offense, after all! Show these dudes what for!¡±


    Appearing to take Phil¡¯s reply to heart, Jean slapped a monster onto the polished wooden table.


    ¡°Monk Fighter (1300/1000) heeds my call! Yet, where there is an apprentice, a master lurks! By sacrificing Monk Fighter, I can special summon Master Monk (1900/1000) from my hand! Then, I follow that play with another! Here¡¯s the field spell Wasteland, right on time to replace Yami!¡±


    Just like in the modern game, each player could only have one field spell active at a time on their side of the board. So, if Jean wanted to play Wasteland, that meant Yami would be sent to the graveyard.


    That also meant, that not only did the rock-type Master Monk gain 200 attack and defense points, but Phil''s Soul of Purity and Light returned to its original stat values. The same effect applied to Element Valkyrie, letting it regain its lost attack points.


    Master Monk (1900/1000 -> 2100/1200), Soul of Purity and Light (1800/1600 -> 2000/1800), Element Valkyrie (1300/1000 -> 1500/1200).


    The muscular white-haired man depicted on Master Monk¡¯s card art appeared like a reassuring presence to Phil, its staggering 2100 attack after the field spell boost being quite impressive for a non-fusion card in this era of the game.


    Jean then moved immediately into his battle phase. Master Monk tore into Vampiric Orchis, but once the dust settled, Taka took a deep puff from his cigarette.


    ¡°Des Dendle¡¯s union effect!¡± Taka gravely announced, ¡°If my Vampiric Orchis would be destroyed, Des Dendle can sacrifice itself in its place.¡±


    ¡°But you still take the damage,¡± Jean cheekily reminded the old man, ¡°And my Master Monk has a special effect of his own! As a martial arts master, he can attack twice per turn! My second attack shall destroy your vampire tree for good!¡±


    Once Phil finished relaying Jean¡¯s words, Taka¡¯s face grew dark.


    Phil and Jean: 2400 Taka and Makoto: 3200


    Then, Jean placed a card face-down and ended his turn.


    A drop of sweat dribbled down Makoto¡¯s nose. The man tried to mask his nerves by taking a hearty quaff from his glass of whiskey, but it was not enough to hide from Phil¡¯s eyes. Jean, seeing the emotion as well, sent a side-eye toward Phil. The message was clear ¨C they had their opponents on the ropes.


    ¡°Draw.¡± Makoto mumbled. The man flicked his eyes to glance at Chet, who had leaned slightly in to fix a wolf-like gaze on Taka and Makoto. Idly, as Makoto destroyed another of Phil¡¯s Nimble Momonga¡¯s with his Element Valkyrie, placed a card face down, and ended his turn, Phil wondered what the two men had bet, and lost, to get to this place.


    Phil and Jean: 3400 Taka and Makoto: 3200


    Phil drew a card. Were the men as desperate as he and Jean were? Did they have also kidneys on the line?


    As soon as that line of thought came to mind, Phil forcibly banished it from his brain. Taka and Makoto were big boys. They knew the risks, and neither Phil nor Jean could afford to lose.


    ¡°I¡¯ll flip my remaining Nimble Momonga face-up,¡± Phil decided, but before he could continue, Makoto¡¯s voice, sounding hoarse from frayed nerves and burning whiskey, drifted out into the air.


    ¡°The trap card, Hidden Soldiers, activates! When you normal or flip-summon a monster, I can special summon one level four or lower dark monster from my hand! Defend me, Wall of Illusion (1000/1850)!¡±


    Phil glanced over the new monster Makoto summoned in defense mode. That was a card he''d seen before. It was a staple in stall decks normally played on the playground during recess by little kids. With 1850 defense points, it was formidable, but the real power was its effect. Each time a monster attacked it, no matter if the wall was destroyed or not, the attacking monster would be returned to the owner''s hand after damage calculation. That meant not only did you have to clear 1850 defense points, but you¡¯d be temporarily down a monster doing it too. Of course, it would normally be more effective when set in face-down defense position, but misplays happened sometimes. Phil wasn¡¯t going to laugh (too much) at Makoto for that.


    ¡°Battle phase. Soul of Purity and Light will attack Element Valkyrie!¡± Phil declared, but once more Makoto¡¯s voice rose above the din.


    ¡°My second trap reveals itself!¡± The man smoothed out the collar of his Hawaiian shirt again, seemingly more so out of nerves than out of wanting the shirt to stay nice. ¡°Shift! This trap allows me to redirect your attack onto Wall of Illusion!¡±


    ¡°Your wall dies, but my monster returns to my hand.¡± Phil grumbled in irritation. To add to the irritation, Phil didn¡¯t have enough light monsters in his graveyard to summon it again. ¡°Fine. Nimble Momonga can still attack, so I guess I¡¯ll clear out that Wicked Plant Token under your control, Taka. Then in my second main phase, I place a monster in face-down defense position and pass my turn.¡±


    Taka took a long, deep puff from his cigarette. The smoke gushed out of his mouth like a giant grey cloud, momentarily obscuring his face as he drew a card to start his turn. Phil coughed, waving the smoke away from his face while flipping his middle finger right at Taka. The man let out an angry snort, but otherwise stayed silent to contemplate his next move.


    ¡°Polymerization!¡± Taka said in a voice made rough from countless decades of chain-smoking, ¡°Fusing Feral Imp and Snakeyashi in my hand to form the Rose Spectre of Dunn (2000/1800)!¡±


    Phil raised an eyebrow. The newly summoned monster appeared to be one of those classic old fusion monsters where the materials made no sense and the effects either sucked or didn¡¯t exist. He assumed Taka only played it for the 2000 attack points and the plant theming, which seemed to be what his deck was all about. Ignoring, of course, that one of the two materials required was a fiend monster.


    It wouldn¡¯t be enough to destroy Master Monk, however, which Taka seemed to quickly realize.


    ¡°Fine!¡± The old man spat, ¡°Here¡¯s my trap card, Reinforcements! Until the end of this turn, my fusion monster will gain 500 attack points. Rose Spectre of Dunn, devour that pitiful monk!¡±


    Rose Spectre of Dunn (2000/1800 -> 2500/1800).


    Once Phil translated for him, however, Jean let a roguish smile adorn his face. He did not elaborate as to why he smiled, simply taking his Master Monk off the field without a word on the topic.


    Phil and Jean: 3000 Taka and Makoto: 3200


    But as Jean began his turn after Taka ended his with no further actions, the reason for his smile was revealed.


    ¡°Monsieurs, it seems that traps are all the rage today. Activating one of my own, Call of the Haunted! While it is a shame that I cannot bring back Master Monk, I can still draw upon the power of Monk Fighter (1300/1000) once more! Then, I will follow that up with the spell card I just drew, Kaminote Blow! I control a Monk Fighter, so from now on, each monster my Monk Fighter battles with this turn will be destroyed at the end of the damage step, regardless, of if my monster has enough attack points!¡±


    Once his explanation was finished, Jean moved on to the offensive. Monk Fighter, a muscled man in a simple sleeveless yellow outfit, was commanded to attack the Rose Spectre of Dunn. While Monk Fighter was destroyed by that battle, the fusion monster was as well, and Monk Fighter¡¯s effect prevented Jean and Phil from taking any damage from the battle.


    Makoto began his turn. As soon as he saw the new addition to his hand, Makoto slammed his fist on the table in excitement.


    ¡°Fulfillment of the Contract!¡± He declared, revealing a spell card that looked like a form being signed. ¡°By paying 800 life points, my Elemental Mistress Doriado returns from death equipped with this spell! That also means my Element Valkyrie gains 500 attack points again now that a fire monster is on the field.¡±


    Element Valkyrie (1500/1200 -> 2000/1200).


    ¡°What a fucking persistent bastard,¡± Phil spat out upon seeing the ritual monster again. Without delay, Doriado destroyed Phil¡¯s final Nimble Momonga, while Element Valkyrie attacked directly.


    Phil and Jean: 1800 Taka and Makoto: 2400


    Two more black chips were tossed into the center of the table by Taka. Phil met the man¡¯s eyes unflinchingly and matched his bet.


    That was the end of Makoto¡¯s turn, his resources exhausted by the re-summoning of his fallen ritual monster. Meanwhile, neither Jean nor Phil had any monsters at all to defend themselves.


    Phil drew a card. Keeping his expression carefully contained in a steady poker face, he summoned Giant Rat (1400/1450), moving to his battle phase and destroying Elemental Mistress Doriado yet again. This time, however, due to the effect of Fulfillment of the Contract, Doriado was banished after its destruction.


    Element Valkyrie (2000/1200 -> 1500/1200).


    Phil and Jean: 1800 Taka and Makoto: 2200


    The turn count went back to Taka, who shot a glance between Makoto¡¯s Element Valkyrie and Phil¡¯s Giant Rat before making his move.


    "Arcane Archer of the Forest (900/1400) will be summoned in defense," The man eventually decided and ended his turn with a face-down card.


    Jean also hardly had much he could do, having exhausted most of his resources for the moment with the earlier Monk Fighter combo. Still, he shot a look of reassurance toward Phil, placing one card face-down and ending his turn.


    Then it was Makoto¡¯s turn. Unlike the two turns before his, Makoto had more juice left in his hand.


    ¡°I summon the Element Dragon (1500/1200)! Then, I equip it with Dragon Treasure, which increases its attack and defense by 300 points.¡±


    Element Dragon (1500/1200 -> 1800/1500).


    In a matter of seconds, Element Valkyrie destroyed Phil¡¯s Giant Rat, which triggered to special summon another one of the blue-haired rats, who was immediately met by the attack of Element Dragon.


    Phil and Jean: 1300 Taka and Makoto: 2200


    This time, however, seeing that Makoto had no more monsters to attack with, Phil declined to summon a replacement rat. Instead, Phil searched through his deck for a familiar white-haired cat in a yellow hard hat.


    ¡°Rescue Cat (300/100)!¡± Phil proudly announced. This was just in time, for Makoto ended his turn with a sneer directed at Phil¡¯s weaker monster.


    ¡°I¡¯ll draw and go right to my main phase!¡± Phil announced. ¡°Rescue Cat activates its effect! Sending it to the graveyard, I can special summon two level three or lower beast monsters from my deck. That¡¯ll be two copies of The Wicked Worm Beast (1400/700). Then, as my normal summon hasn¡¯t been used yet, I sacrifice both of them to summon the monster Sengenjin (2750/2500)!¡±


    The other three men at the table grew quiet upon seeing Phil¡¯s power play. Not only that, but Chet was sitting bolt upright, staring at Phil¡¯s side of the field, while the handful of spectators who had gathered during the course of the duel were shocked into stunned silence. While Phil¡¯s modern sensibilities weren¡¯t capable of fully understanding their reactions, what he remembered from the manga bubbled to the front of his head.


    Namely, summoning something over 2000 attack points wasn¡¯t easy. Summoning something with over 2500 attack points, being just a shade weaker than a Blue-Eyes? That was downright rare, both the summoning and the whole ¡®bothering to run the card in the first place¡¯. There was a reason why Yugi¡¯s Summoned Skull was terrifying, being a level six monster with 2500 attack points.


    Frankly, Phil had been surprised to see Sengenjin in the deck Solomon gave him, but he¡¯d chalked it up to the irritating two-tribute requirement. Well, if it was good enough to be a playground boss monster, it was good enough for this shag-carpeted shithole.


    Plus, it wasn¡¯t like this was a Blue-Eyes White Dragon. It was strong, but not that strong. Not often used, but nowhere near being like the card that only had four copies left in the world. It could overpower a Red-Eyes Black Dragon but folded in the face of a Perfectly Ultimate Great Moth. It lacked the robust support cards of Dark Magician, or the ease of use that Summoned Skull possessed. Nor did it have any useful effects.


    What the blue ogre monster did have, however, was a large chunk of attack points to beat the opponent over the head with. As Phil waited for the startled chatter around the table to die down, a thought came to him ¨C was this how Kaiba felt after slapping his Blue-Eyes White Dragon on the table?


    Finally, the spectators quieted down. Phil nodded toward Makoto¡¯s element monsters. By now he could tell that the younger man was the stronger of the pair, so he felt no pity for ordering Sengenjin to attack the Element Dragon.


    ¡°Mirror Force!¡± Taka shouted, vigorously flipping over his face-down trap. But, as Phil¡¯s gut twisted in surprise, Jean chose that time to make his move.


    ¡°Not on my watch.¡± The Frenchman said. ¡°Seven Tools of the Bandit activates! In return for 1000 of our life points, you may say au revoir to your trap as it is disarmed!¡±


    As the dragon was thrown into Makoto¡¯s graveyard, Phil and Jean shared a firm, brotherly handshake with a series of sharp nods celebrating their natural teamwork.


    ¡°That¡¯s my turn.¡± Phil said, turning back to their opponents, who had ashen faces as they looked at Phil¡¯s monster.


    Phil and Jean: 300 Taka and Makoto: 1250


    ¡°I summon another Des Dendle (300/2000) in defense position. Turn end.¡± Taka said through a mouthful of smoke.


    ¡°Which brings it to moi!¡± Jean called out. ¡°Minomushi Warrior (1300/1200) rides to serve me! Its type is rock, so Wasteland will boost its power!¡±


    Minomushi Warrior (1300/1200 -> 1500/1400).


    Similar to Phil, Jean¡¯s attention was also focused on Makoto. He ordered his warrior to crash into Makoto¡¯s Element Valkyrie, meaning that even if another Doriado was summoned, their opponent would have a much harder time taking advantage of the available attributes. However, it did come at the sacrifice of Minomushi Warrior, as the monsters had equal attack points.


    Jean placed a card face-down and then the turn passed to Makoto, who also placed a face-down and passed his turn with gritted teeth. Sweat stained the clothes of both Taka and Makoto, and neither the cigarettes nor the booze seemed to be doing much to calm their nerves.


    This, of course, meant that Phil reached his turn without losing any resources. A sharp grin spread across his face at the thought.


    ¡°Shining Angel (1400/800) will be summoned to my field in attack mode!¡± Phil said, but before he could pull his hand away from the card on the table, Makoto revealed the trap he¡¯d set the turn prior.


    ¡°And my Trap Hole destroys it.¡± The man intoned.


    Phil shrugged helplessly. Because the destruction was due to a card effect, he wouldn¡¯t get the benefit of Shining Angel¡¯s effect to summon a light monster to replace it. However, while the monster would have been handy to have on the field, it still had its uses in the graveyard because of the light attribute it possessed. Now he just needed to get one more light attribute monster in the grave, and he¡¯d have a secondary boss monster to back up his big beatstick.


    With only a few options left on the field, Phil destroyed the Des Dendle with his Sengenjin and passed his turn back to Taka.


    Taka let out a foul curse, throwing the lit cigarette in his hand to the floor in disgust upon seeing the card he drew. The shag carpeting smoldered, causing Chet to leap up with a curse of his own to stomp the embers out, before reaching over and slamming Taka¡¯s head against the table hard enough to draw blood from his forehead.


    ¡°Shag¡¯s flammable, stupid.¡± Chet growled, grinding the older man¡¯s head against the table with each word he spoke. ¡°Try that again and I¡¯ll tell the boys to shove you in a steel drum, nail it shut, and drop it off the side of a bridge.¡±


    Taka had no response to that other than an apologetic bow once he was released, ending his turn without a single play while he mopped at his forehead to clear away the sweat and blood that stuck to his grimy, smoke-covered skin.


    Phil winced. The man had bricked. It happened, but it never felt good to see it, even when it was from an opponent.


    ¡°Monk Fighter (1300/1000) leaps on the field again!¡± Jean summoned the monster from his hand as soon as his turn began. This monster was another card that had the rock typing, even though the name would make one assume it was a warrior, so the Wasteland field spell boosted its attack and defense by 200 points.


    Monk Fighter (1300/1000 -> 1500/1200).


    This was enough for the yellow-shirted monk to blitz through the defense points of Taka¡¯s final monster, Arcane Archer of the Forest, leaving the field wide open.


    But that wasn¡¯t all. Jean looked right at Makoto and let loose a wild laugh.


    ¡°Monsieur, I noticed you failed to summon a monster during your last turn. Permit me to make a guess, if you will. Does your hand perhaps lack a single monster you can summon?¡±


    Jean did not wait for a response, merely flipping over his trap card. Phil grimaced once he saw the name.


    ¡°Time Seal.¡± Jean simply said. ¡°Your next draw phase will be skipped. Perhaps I am wrong¡­ or perhaps not. Time shall tell. That will be all.¡±


    It was a disgusting play. It was also a perfect opportunity. Makoto¡¯s turn, lacking the draw phase as it did, played right into Jean¡¯s expectations ¨C Makoto didn¡¯t have any monsters, nor any useful spells or traps. The man was forced to pass his turn, his skin pale and clammy.


    ¡°And that¡¯s it unless you have a Kuriboh.¡± Phil smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll summon Giant Rat (1400/1450) in attack mode as insurance. I assume you two don¡¯t know what the hell ¡®Gorz¡¯ is, but fuck it. I¡¯ll do this proper ¡®cause my momma raised me to be scared shitless of that card. Giant Rat attacks directly for game.¡±


    Phil and Jean: 300 Taka and Makoto: 0

 Chapter 4 - Yakuza Town

    Taka and Makoto sat wordlessly in their chairs, a defeated air hanging around their shoulders like a gloomy fog. A pack of smokes sat empty on the table next to their scattered cards, the final cigarette clutched despondently between Taka¡¯s trembling thumb and index finger. The smoke it gave off was pungent, drifting high in the air to mix with the murky atmosphere of the parlor. That smoke, combined as it was with the fumes of everyone else smoking in the building, sat heavily on Phil''s lungs. It pressed down, like a very large man was attempting to suffocate him but wasn¡¯t putting a whole lot of effort into doing the job. The lines of age on Taka¡¯s face looked all the more apparent as he stared down at the table like there were deep crevices gouged into his cheeks and forehead.


    A flicker of purple appeared on the table as Jean moved an arm forward to sweep the small pile of black chips away from the center of the table. For the briefest of seconds, Makoto¡¯s skinny arms flinched, as if he was of half a mind to block Jean¡¯s efforts, but ultimately the man stayed still, other than to drain the last dregs of whiskey in his glass. As the glass was lifted, Phil was able to see the man¡¯s eyes clearly for what felt like the first time since the duel began. Makoto¡¯s eyes were like mirrors reflecting Phil¡¯s face back at him, but that did little to hide the sheer emptiness contained within them. There was no emotion, neither sorrow nor joy, to be seen in those glassy eyes. Not even apathy was present if that was possible. The skinny Japanese man in the blue floral Hawaiian shirt simply had the eyes of a dead man about him.


    Once the drained glass settled on the table once more, Makoto got up without a word, soon followed by Taka. However, after taking a few steps away from the table, the pair¡¯s pathways split. Makoto made a beeline toward the bar, where he declined to take a seat on one of the plush black stools in favor of leaning against the polished marble surface. The man held up two fingers to the scarred bartender. Apparently extracting some sort of meaning from the gesture that was alien to Phil, the bartender put aside the glass he was polishing with a rag to slide across two full bottles (not glasses, even, but bottles) of what looked to be vodka to Makoto. Makoto twisted off one of the caps with trembling fingers and then downed a full quarter of the first bottle in one smooth motion.


    Taka walked straight to the doors separating the smoke-filled inside of the parlor from the snowy outside world. His arms hung loosely at his side, but his fingers still clutched that final cigarette between them so tightly that the little white tube was crumpled slightly. However, before the older man could reach the door, another man in a shoddy two-piece grey business suit intercepted him with a palm held against Taka¡¯s chest. The man in the grey suit wore tinted sunglasses even though the inside of the parlor was dim enough to not need them.


    Like Chet, part of a tattoo poked out past the collar of the shirt he wore under his suit. Unlike Chet, it did not appear to be the head of a dragon, but instead that of a wise-looking Buddha. The man did not smoke at all, but between his teeth sat a well-chewed wooden toothpick with one of those little umbrellas at the end of it, like he¡¯d plucked it from a fancy sandwich just a moment prior.


    The man in the grey suit exchanged several words with Taka, who looked to grow more and more defeated with each word said, though the words themselves could not be made out by Phil due to the distance and the general chatter of the crowd filling the parlor. It only took a few minutes, along with a few well-placed finger pokes to Taka¡¯s chest for the man in the grey suit to make whatever point he was trying to make, and the two men soon disappeared past a grimy wooden door into a side room, out of site from Phil. Inside that side room, before the door closed behind the men, Phil could see a small metal table, on top of which sat a piece of paper and a clear glass cup, which was empty of any liquids and had a pen sticking out of it.


    ¡°-gained one black chip from their buy-in, and four from their bets in profit.¡± Jean said, causing Phil to redirect his attention from the pitiable scene of their defeated opponents back to the Frenchman.


    ¡°So, that means we still have the chips gained from leveraging my kidney, and five in profit. 75,000 yen (~$500). I can live with that.¡± Phil said, tapping out a drumbeat against the table with his fingers. With one duel alone, they could give the parlor back their initial loan from leveraging the kidney so that his organs weren''t on the line anymore. Then with the profit, they could start looking for some kind of cheap halfway house or other cheap shithole to rent a bed in so they could get out from under the bridge.


    The more Phil stared at the small pile of black chips, the more thoughts ran through his head. He didn¡¯t have much of an idea of where to start looking, but perhaps he could ask Solomon Muto? Their duel back at the shop had allowed Phil to get a fair measure of the kindly man. He seemed like the kind of guy who would earnestly help them in their quest for a warm bed. Once that was achieved, then they could take whatever chips were left and reinvest them in the parlor. It would be slightly riskier than a real job, but if all the other duelists were on a similar skill level to Taka and Makoto, there was a chance to rake in some good cash at a place that didn¡¯t seem to give a shit about proper ID or papers.


    ¡°Yes, not bad.¡± Chet smiled. He stood up from his chair and stubbed his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. ¡°You two aren¡¯t bad at all. I wonder though¡­ will this be enough to satisfy you?¡±


    Chet¡¯s tone was similar to how it had been at Burger World. It was oily, like a slimy monster from depths unknown to mankind trying to wrap its tentacles around Phil¡¯s arms to drag him down to its level. Yet, Phil raised an eyebrow, motioning for Chet to continue. The bastard was slimy, but allowing the man to say his piece wouldn¡¯t hurt them.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just say¡­ this main floor is but a taste of the real deal.¡± Chet spread his hands out, gesturing to the flocks of men and women scattered around the parlor. His shoes scuffed against the floor, rubbing against the green shag carpet as he spoke. ¡°The¡­ management knows full well these walls are not enough to fit the taste of a true duelist. However, for a fee, a whole new world can open up to ya¡¯. A chance for bigger duels. A chance for bigger bets.¡±


    Phil snorted. A fee. There was the kicker.


    ¡°How much is the fee? Another kidney? Or are we betting hearts now? An arm? A leg? How about two legs?¡±


    Chet shook his head with a magnanimous air, as if he was doing Phil a favor by bringing him into the loop and ignoring the sarcasm.


    ¡°22,000 yen buy-in, plus a background check to reassure the management that you aren¡¯t a cop.¡±


    Phil eyed the pile of black chips sitting between him and Jean, taking a moment to mutter a translation to the man so they could be on the same page. The equivalent to $150. It wouldn¡¯t break the bank, but it still wasn¡¯t cheap. Honestly, it hardly seemed worth it, with how much they¡¯d made in one duel alone just now. Chet had to know that, so why was he offering? Was there a catch somewhere?


    While Jean continued to think, Phil opened his mouth to prod the yakuza more.


    ¡°We just made 75,000 yen in profit here. Why should we go to your super-secret extra floor if we can keep dueling for good profit right here?¡±


    Chet clicked his tongue, and the oil in his voice felt like it increased by a noticeable amount.


    ¡°Ah, see, the thing is¡­ you two are still newbies. One game doesn¡¯t change that. I can guarantee~ almost no one else on this floor will want to duel ya¡¯ knowing that. Ol¡¯ Taka and Makoto were two of the teensy-tiny handful desperate enough to do so. In that new world, however, there are no such worries. You may duel to your heart¡¯s content for all the cash you so desire. Heck, we¡¯ll even let that buy-in cover you both. And yeah, you could still pull out now with your winnings and never come back¡­¡±


    Then the man¡¯s eyes glinted dangerously, and he let out a sharklike grin to match.


    ¡°But to change your chips into money, ya¡¯ gotta pay a fee to the house to thank us for allowing you to play here. Fifty percent.¡±


    That was the catch. Phil sent a sharp look over to Jean, who looked rather serious once the words were translated to him. Chet stood back, appearing quite willing to let them think it over, so Phil pulled Jean aside.


    ¡°Half of our fucking winnings just so we can use the money.¡± Phil hissed between clenched teeth. ¡°Damn sharks.¡±


    ¡°37,500 yen to withdraw, or 22,000 to increase our access. Half versus a third.¡± Jean murmured. ¡°And I imagine Monsieur Chet won¡¯t stop there. It would not surprise me to see the ¡®house¡¯ declare the loaned chips as winnings as well, taxing those at fifty percent and forcing us to pay more to remove the loan from our backs. Such is the way of scum like this.¡±


    Phil flicked his eyes across the room, taking in every aspect of it as he thought. The more he looked, the sleazier the place appeared. The wooden paneling covering the walls was grimy with decades of accumulated smoke. Several of the neon lights affixed to the tables flickered slightly, throwing pale shades of purple across the ground to make the vomit-colored shag carpeting look even more sickly. There were loads of people within, but all of them were in various states of assorted shabbiness. Their laughter was strained. Their faces were drawn tight. Booze flowed like water amongst men and women alike.


    Then there were the yakuza scattered around the room like watchful sentinels. All of them wore suits in various states of disrepair, decorated with flashy gold jewelry and vibrant tattoos peeking out from under shirt collars and frayed cuffs. The way they watched the patrons was like hawks watching prey, prey that was getting easier to catch by the minute.


    Phil¡¯s lips curled in disgust.


    ¡°This place is like a pitcher plant. You know, one of those plants that forms its leaves into little pitchers holding nectar. The bugs go up to it, they fall inside the pitchers to get trapped by nectar or water, and then the plant slowly dissolves them into nothing.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean we¡¯re the bugs? Sacre bleu. The idea disgusts me. On the other hand, my friend, to make money, one must spend money. We have some money now, but the house fee makes it much less. If we go to that extra floor, perhaps we can make enough to offset the fee.¡±


    Phil grunted. Some points for, some against. But Jean continued to speak.


    ¡°Perhaps we should have expected this, working with scum such as Chet. On the other hand¡­¡± Jean looked at the table with a solemn air around him, ¡°Mon ami, I admit that I am a proud man. Even accepting the kindness of that angel at Burger World pains me. Begging on the streets for handouts, room, or board, I would rather die. At least then I would die as a man with no regrets. Without speaking Japanese and having a proper ID, I have no hope of getting a job in this country. Yet, though I would be working with scum, I have gambled on this game many times in the past, back home in France. I know some men who have made it quite big through this game.¡±


    The neon light lining the edge of the table next to them flickered. As it did, the light made a low buzzing sound, as if it was seconds away from failing and going dark forever.


    ¡°My pride is foolish, I know. Someday it may even be the death of me. But what is a man if he abandons his true self? Monsieur Phil, if you wish to leave, I respect your decision. I will urge you to take all of the money we earned to do so. However, I will stay. I will fight my way through this place, even if I cannot understand the language. I shall become victorious. And then, when I have enough money, I will finally return home, with my back straight and my head held high, as a man who kept true to himself through even the worst of times, even if it may have been more prudent to do so otherwise.¡±


    Phil knew the parlor was bad news. Every part of it, from the shitty carpets, to the disgusting wood paneling, to the empty people filling it, and the yakuza sharks watching from the sidelines combined to practically scream at him to bugger off. To accept the stupid fucking charge to transfer his chips to cash, and never return. He would go back to the bridge. Go back to the drawing board. Hell, he could take the smartest move of all and go to Solomon to ask for a job. He had a feeling that even if the man didn¡¯t outright throw him an offer, he would still be able to point Phil in the right direction.


    Sure, he would be alone. Jean was determined to take his chances if it meant his pride could be satisfied. Without knowing a word of Japanese, the man Phil had met just this morning was willing to throw himself to the wolves for a fucking chance. They¡¯d known each other for slightly less than a day. Yet even with all that, Phil felt like he¡¯d known the Frenchman for decades. It was the type of feeling, the type of true, natural kinship he¡¯d felt with Bastion and Lumina.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Then there was pride. Phil understood Jean perfectly there. Knowing how truly idiotic his pride was, but still striding forward to live with no regrets. It was not the easy way. It was not the smart way. If his mom or his dad could see Phil now, they¡¯d slap him silly for even entertaining the option. In particular, his dad would say something along the lines of ''pride before fall''. And he''d probably be right. Even Bastion, if he could see Phil now, would have his head in his hands, speaking wise words about how Phil really, really shouldn¡¯t go even deeper into this world.


    Still, Phil knew precisely what his answer to Jean Dubois would be.


    ¡°Fuck it.¡± Phil grinned, extending his hand to clap Jean''s arm in a firm gesture. ¡°This shit¡¯s stupid, Chet¡¯s probably going to screw us over, but damn it all if I¡¯ll leave a brother hanging. Besides, this ain¡¯t the stupidest thing I¡¯ve done over pride.¡±


    ¡°Knew it! I knew it, I knew it!¡± Lumina cried out with a mixture of exasperation and muffled amusement. ¡°A prideful, reckless human to the end, and this is you without soul damage! Heavens above, I don¡¯t want to think about how bad this would be if you still had soul damage. Doubtlessly you would have already clocked that Chet guy in the head with a chair.¡±


    ¡°How long has it been since we last parted, three years? Four? Five? Yet you¡¯re still the same, Phil. Still a proud, irritating man through and through. I don¡¯t know whether to hit you on the head and hope a concussion makes you smarter, or to respect you for sticking to your guns and helping Jean! Even now it boggles my mind how you make close friends this fast! You just met the guy this morning, and now you¡¯re risking your life with him!¡±


    ¡°Monsieur Phil¡­ no¡­ not just Monsieur, but mon frere!¡± Jean looked back at Phil with a huge grin plastered across his face. ¡°Earlier, I said our friendship may prove to be that of legend. I fear that may already be the case! May this legend of ours be an inspiring tale, instead of a cautionary one, I hope.¡±


    Phil turned to Chet, who was studying the ceiling with a bored look. The man looked no more reliable than he had when they had first met at Burger World. Mentally, Phil made a note to keep an eye on the gangster. If he screwed Phil and Jean out of even a single penny, D.3.S. would be getting some good live froggie chow ASAP ¨C courtesy of Chet and anyone else who tried to stop him.


    ¡°Oi, Chet. We¡¯ll take your offer.¡± Phil threw two black chips to the man, who caught them deftly in one hand. ¡°That¡¯s a hair more than 22,000, so you better give me my fucking change back. How long will the background check take?¡±


    ¡°Come back tomorrow morning.¡± Chet said, tossing the two chips up in his hands as he spoke.


    Phil narrowed his eyes but ultimately said nothing. They grabbed their decks off the table, turning away from the yakuza to head toward the chip counter. Immediately Phil returned his initial stack of chips to pay off the loan from the parlor. The woman behind the counter, just as cheerful as she was earlier, smiled and accepted the pile before crossing something off a piece of paper that was mostly obscured by the counter.


    The question remained, should one of the chips be exchanged for cash, or none at all? Even if fifty percent of the sum was taken off, it would still be enough for a hot meal or two. However, a small voice of dissent spoke from the back of his mind. Each chip exchanged would mean less money to work with the next day in the second area.


    Phil caught Jean¡¯s eye, and the man stroked his goatee in thought.


    ¡°It would mean less money to work with¡­ but if we exchange one of the black chips, even after the percentage take, we would have enough at least for a filling breakfast tomorrow morning, so that we may enter our duels with a sharp mind.¡±


    Three black chips sat in Phil¡¯s hand like heavy stones. Jean had a point. It would be harder to think with hunger hanging over their heads like a dark cloud, and after the parlor took its share, they would still have 7,500 yen (~$50) left. A sum such as that would allow the two men to get more than a few meals down if they were careful. The rest would need to be conserved in chip form for the next day if Phil wanted to avoid leveraging his kidneys again. And even though it had worked out in the end, he didn¡¯t particularly wish to keep tempting fate.


    One black chip slid across the counter to the lady, while the other two slipped into Phil''s jacket pocket, coming to a rest right next to D.3.S. Frog, who shifted in place to lean against them.


    She smiled, but the action was thin, almost superficial in nature.


    ¡°Ah, dear customer. Do you wish to exchange this chip?¡±


    ¡°Sure do.¡±


    At Phil''s answer, the woman''s smile grew even thinner. He glanced at her nametag, which showed her name as ¡®Asuka¡¯. The bulk of the nametag blended in with her shirt, which was of a similar white color, almost seamlessly. However, that made the black words inked on it stick out all the more.


    ¡®Asuka, Floor Manager¡¯.


    ¡°Very well, dear customer," Asuka said, sliding a few banknotes across the counter to Phil, who flicked through them to quickly count the notes up. ¡°It is our hope that you return tomorrow when the background check is completed."


    Phil tucked the banknotes in his coat pocket, right next to the chips and D.3.S. Frog, and then turned toward the doors without another word.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    Phil woke up with a start. The air was frigid, with spurts of staggard warmth shooting out of the fire barrel near his feet. Balanced on top of the barrel, near the edge so that the heat would keep it warm instead of melting it, was a large tin can, perhaps roughly around the size of an average human head. He staggered up, moving carefully so as to not wake Jean, who was sleeping nearby, or the other assortment of ragged figures huddled around the fire barrel.


    Resting on Jean¡¯s chest was a half-open book, the front of which sported the title ¡®French to Japanese ¨C A Guide¡¯. It was something Lumina had pointed out on their way back from the discount grocery store, sitting in the window of a tiny bookstore. Phil had immediately purchased it and given it to Jean, who¡¯d busied himself in studying the contents of the book from that moment on. When Phil had finally fallen asleep that night, Jean had already managed to get a handful of basic words learned (albeit with horrid pronunciation). Anything more than that would take time, but it was still progress.


    The inside of the tin can was almost empty. Its contents, once a large assortment of potatoes, wilted vegetables, and ground beef bought from a discount store the day before, had been a veritable feast that allowed Phil and Jean to eat their fill, and even share some with the rest of the people living under the bridge. The chance to go to sleep with a full belly felt like the most wonderful thing in the world. Best of all, the discount store allowed them to save some of their money for a rainy day.


    Looking around, Phil could see that piles of snow had built up all around, some of the drifts reaching almost five feet in accumulated height. However, the shelter of the bridge had protected the residents underneath from that fluffy, yet deadly blanket. The snow had a sort of muffling effect on the surroundings, causing sounds to fall flat. The half-frozen river moved under the bridge at a sluggish pace, as if it was fighting against being completely frozen during every second that passed.


    Solid-sounding thuds filled the air, and Phil glanced to the side to see Lumina striking her fists against a support beam like it was a punching bag ¨C though as to why she did that, he was initially unsure.


    He tilted his head slightly to the side in thought as he mutely watched the scene. Eventually, drifting its way through the air past the muffling snow, Lumina¡¯s heated whispers could be faintly heard.


    ¡°Damn that dragon! Demoting me? Giving that drunkard Ryko keys to a company truck? Damn that dragon!¡±


    Each word was followed by a swift punch that sent tiny splinters of concrete and rubble flying into the air. It was made all the more impressive by the fact that none of her signature light magic glimmered to form a coating for her fists ¨C she was bare-knuckle boxing a beam of cement, with no apparent wounds on her knuckles to be seen.


    Phil stretched, yawning while his body screamed violent protests against his every move. That was the thing about sleeping on the ground. It wasn¡¯t even the rocks being the problem, he could move those aside easily enough. It was the ground itself. It almost felt like it rejected his very body, though perhaps phrasing it that was a bit too dramatic. In all honesty, the aches and pains garnered by sleeping in the rough were a tale as old as time. And here he was, roughing it out in the open with only a bridge to keep the snow from covering his head.


    ¡°Mornin¡¯ Lumina,¡± Phil softly called out, making sure to not wake Jean or anyone else curled up next to the fire. Lumina paused midway through a mean right hook. She was breathing heavily from exertion, and a few strands of loose hair were stuck to her cheek with sweat. From the looks of it, she¡¯d been busy destroying that pillar for a large chunk of the night.


    ¡°Morning.¡± She grinned, blowing the hair off her face. ¡°You ready?¡±


    ¡°Once I get some breakfast in me.¡±


    Lumina hummed her acknowledgment, leaning forward to examine her handiwork on the pillar. Several dents were gouged into the concrete, but the thick pillar still stood firm.


    ¡°A letter came for me in the night.¡±


    Phil raised an eyebrow. ¡°From your job?¡±


    "From Ryko," Lumina said the name with a sneer on her face like it was the most disgusting word in existence. ¡°Saying that I am out of vacation time and that I am to report back to the office soon if I do not wish to be verbally reprimanded.¡±


    "Ah," Phil said in understanding. Now that he looked closer, there were shreds of paper embedded in one of the deepest dents in the pillar. ¡°And your answer?¡±


    ¡°That damned dog doesn¡¯t care about my answer, so I didn¡¯t bother. He just enjoys the chance to talk down to me. At this point, the only reason for me to go back would be if I wanted to burn that office to the ground.¡±


    ¡°Fuck him.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You know, Phil, there¡¯s a saying. ¡®He who laughs last, laughs best¡¯. I¡¯m laughing pretty good now that I don¡¯t have to deal with that rat-faced dog every day.¡±


    ¡°You know¡­¡± Phil rubbed his chin in thought, ¡°It¡¯s a pity I can¡¯t go to the spirit world. I wouldn¡¯t mind voicing a strongly worded and potentially violent customer complaint with the Lightsworn Corporation. You know, with all the shit Ryko¡¯s done. Plus the confusion. I keep seeing unexpected shit.¡±


    Lumina tilted her head, looking at Phil with curiosity in her eyes.


    ¡°Unexpected?¡±


    ¡°Well, ya¡¯ know, I¡¯ve done two duels now. Both of them were different than I thought they would be. 4000 life points, actual tribute summons, extra decks, all that jazz. It shouldn¡¯t be like this at all. And you know, I can adapt just fine, it¡¯s why I let Solomon go first in our duel so I could double-check the rules through observation, it¡¯s just weird to see.¡±


    ¡°It could be because of you.¡± Lumina pointed right at Phil, ¡°Remember last time when newer cards kept popping up at random? Bastion''s Water Dragon Cluster, that one guy who played Steelswarms in the school tournament, and so on. You said none of those cards should have existed in GX, but there they were. I can¡¯t say for sure, but I wonder if your presence is¡­ changing things. Magic can be touchy at times. A guided reincarnation like yours can have unintended consequences for the world. Maybe those consequences are the warping of this world¡¯s version of Duel Monsters to better resemble your own. Or maybe I¡¯m wrong and this is nothing but random chance. Maybe this was how it always was, and the TV show you knew just got it all wrong. Chance and magic are two things that can still occasionally surprise even the oldest and wisest of duel spirits.¡±


    Shoulders shrugging, Lumina seemingly brushed off her own words into the air like it didn¡¯t really matter all that much, that whatever would happen, was going to happen if they knew the ¡®why¡¯ or if they didn¡¯t.


    ¡°I suppose I can¡¯t complain much.¡± Phil muttered, ¡°These changes have made it easier for me to adapt. I can¡¯t imagine how fucking annoying it would be if the game was still ¡®D&D with cards¡¯ like it was in the anime.¡±


    Just then, Jean stirred, and Phil offered him one of the roasted potatoes that was left in the tin can.


    ¡°Today¡¯s the day, eh?¡± Jean said. His face then contorted with concentration, and eventually, he spoke a few extra words with more effort than usual.


    ¡°Hello~ pretty woman!¡±


    Due to Lumina''s magic, the words sounded the same as before, but seeing Jean¡¯s concentration Phil assumed he was trying to speak in Japanese. Moreover, it also seemed Jean was concentrating on learning the words that were most dear to his heart.


    Brushing past Jean¡¯s attempt at learning pickup lines, as if the man hadn¡¯t said anything at all, Phil nodded, crunching away at his potato.


    ¡°Today¡¯s the day.¡±


    The ¡®super-secret hidden room¡¯. Finally, assuming the background check cleared, its contents would be revealed. Without another word, the two men stood. The black chips in Phil¡¯s pocket clinked together softly, but once they ducked out from under the bridge, that sound was obscured by the crunch of snow under their depilated shoes.


    It did not take long for Phil and Jean to reach the parlor. This time the inside of the building was nearly empty, with only one or two thuggish-looking men standing around the room watching a handful of early-morning gamblers go about their business. Now that the room was much emptier than it was the day before, the sheer amount of grime on the walls, tables, and carpet was unable to be fully obscured by the struggling neon lights.


    ¡°Ah, the men of the hour. The background check cleared! If you two are cops, then that means I must be the damned chief of police!" Chet appeared from a side room, hands clasped together, and a smile pasted across his oily face. Before Phil could say anything in response, Chet put an arm around his shoulder and led them across the room toward the bar, while his other hand slipped two blue chips into Phil''s palm.


    Chet smiled. ¡°Here you are. I took 1500 yen as a middleman¡¯s fee. Don¡¯t whine about it, you woulda¡¯ got the same rate anywhere else.¡±


    The purpose of moving toward the bar was quickly revealed, as the scarred bartender turned to face the wall, pressing his fingers into an indentation in the wall that caused a part of the wood paneling to slide away to reveal a tiny door, one so small that Phil would have to turn sideways to fit through.


    ¡°Please, guests first. Through the door and into the elevator,¡± Chet gestured with a hand.


    With eyes narrowed, Phil turned sideways to fit through the door. Right past the door was an elevator that shimmered with yellow light, the single incandescent light at the top of the elevator being more than enough to illuminate the boxy interior. Similar to the neon lights dotting the main floor, the incandescent light sputtered occasionally and made several concerning crackling noises. The sides of the elevator were wood-paneled, but were much cleaner than the walls of the room they¡¯d just left.


    Noting with relief that the elevator was much larger than the door, being enough for five fully grown men to fit comfortably within, Phil slid to the back, allowing Jean to lean against a corner while Chet took up a position near the elevator doors. Lumina, invisible as always, slipped in last, bringing her thermos of tea up to her mouth for a long, measured sip of whatever brew she¡¯d felt like making today. Her eyes were still tinged with exasperation, but behind that exasperation was still that same amount of amusement she¡¯d shown before.


    ¡°Welcome, my friends. As a representative of the Mori Family, allow me to introduce you to the Underground ¨C a place where only true duelists can thrive, tearing their way through every challenge to rise to the top. Money. Fame. Power. It can all be yours, if you¡¯re strong enough.¡±


    The man grinned a sharklike grin at Phil and Jean. The incandescent light of the elevator shone down on the man¡¯s scars, throwing them into sharp relief to give his face a hungry, almost brutal look. But it was more than that. It felt to Phil as if this was from one of the stories where a man found himself at a crossroads, where the devil himself would appear to offer a deal.


    Only here the devil was a member of the local yakuza, extending an invitation to a shady underground dueling ring.

 Chapter 5 - Welcome to the Underground

    It did not take long for the elevator to arrive at their destination ¨C a distance of around two floors below the main one, if Phil had to guess. The steel doors of the elevator opened to reveal a room similar in appearance to that of a sports stadium. Its size was somewhat unexpected of an underground room, being noticeably than an average school gym, but smaller than a football field. The room itself was like a pit. Wooden bleachers lined walls, starting around the height of the elevator and extending downwards and forwards about 20-odd feet each way to reach the floor. The walls were solid concrete, with small openings every ten to twenty feet. Shiny steel fans spun within those openings, providing a sort of industrial-looking ventilation system that certainly helped the occupants to avoid suffocation, but did little to disperse the always-present stench of cigarette smoke.


    Phil assumed that before long, he wouldn¡¯t notice that smell anymore. Already the smell of smoke was far less pungent than it had been the previous day, and that certainly wasn¡¯t because fewer people were smoking underground.


    The bleachers were half-full with a broad assortment of people, all with deck boxes strapped to their waists. None of them were characters Phil recognized, though the sight of some of the more colorfully dressed individuals felt like they should have rung a bell in his head. A few of the duelists looked tense, standing while gripping at their arms in nervousness, while others projected an aura of confidence as they sat, like this underground arena was their home.


    On the concrete ceiling above were similar lights to those that had been in the elevator. Fluorescent and making an unsettling buzzing noise, they rained a sickly yellow light down to the room below.


    The middle of the room (or perhaps the middle of the ¡®duel stadium¡¯, as it seemed to be) was mostly empty. Undecorated concrete made up the floor, providing an aura of brutalism that wouldn¡¯t have looked out of place in some housing block in Soviet Russia. However, there was one thing that stuck out of the concrete like a wart on skin ¨C a glass box, with a table and two chairs inside. The box seemed hardly larger than a ten-foot by ten-foot cube, being just big enough to fit the furniture, two duelists, and perhaps three or even four spectators inside at most, if those spectators were willing to forgo elbow room. Several tubes stuck out of the bottom of the box, running across the floor to disappear out of sight under the bleachers.


    Above the box were four massive TVs each sticking out to cover a different direction. Each TV showed the same view of the two duelists within the box, allowing even the people on the top row of the bleachers to clearly see the duel transpiring within. Next to the TVs hung massive speakers that transmitted every word the duelists inside spoke.


    ¡°A battle box¡­¡± Phil whispered with a tinge of wonder in his voice. Chet quirked an eyebrow, clearly surprised that Phil recognized the contraption in the middle of the duel stadium.


    It was a sight Phil knew quite well from his familiarity with the manga. Introduced in the Death-T arc, the battle box was used until the end of Duelist Kingdom to provide a more realistic dueling field. Only then would the battle box be phased out by the invention of the duel disk. The boxes looked small, cramped, and unassuming to the unknowing observer, but Phil knew any card played on the table within that box would be brought to life by the solid vision technology created by Kaiba Corp with enough accuracy to look completely realistic. The presence of one was quite interesting. Seeing one here, with his own eyes? It confirmed his suspicions that this world was following the manga canon, at least to a certain extent.


    The question remained, what was a battle box doing here, of all places? From Phil¡¯s rough grasp of the timeline, Death-T, the event that first publicly introduced the battle box, shouldn¡¯t have happened yet. Now, it was possible that in the handful of days since he¡¯d seen Solomon Muto, that the initial duel between Yugi and Kaiba had happened, but it would still be far too soon for Death-T. Phil knew that for certain since Solomon Muto¡¯s Blue-Eyes White Dragon was still in one piece when he had visited the game store just a few days ago.


    If he remembered correctly¡­ their first duel would happen at their school after Kaiba attempted to swap the Blue-Eyes with a fake. The second duel would be reserved for Death-T. Solomon would lose to Kaiba in the opening event, culminating with the Blue-Eyes getting ripped up. Then Yugi would fight his way through Death-T to duel Kaiba for a second time.


    ¡°So, you¡¯ve seen these babies before?¡± Chet¡¯s oily voice broke Phil out of his spiraling thoughts as the man stepped forward to place a foot on the top row of the wooden bleachers. ¡°It¡¯s a battle box. These little beauties are somethin¡¯ special, let me tell ya¡¯ that. They ratchet the craziness of a duel up by a full ten notches. They¡¯re stuck full to the brim with this ¡®solid vision¡¯ crap that makes the monsters look as real as you or me. Anyway, the boss got paid a pretty penny to stick one of them here for testing. We duel in it, the data gets collected, and then it gets sent back to whichever rich fella greased the boss¡¯s palms. Something about ¡®further improvement¡¯ for a big event later on.¡±


    A big event. It only took Phil a few seconds to guess it was Death-T. The only other option was Duelist Kingdom, and he knew for sure it was too early for that.


    Phil¡¯s eyes flicked upward to glance at the TVs showing the duel inside the box. On the TVs were two duelists. One of the duelists, a woman in a black, gothic-style dress, had just summoned a monster, a card called ¡®Blood Sucker¡¯. With 1300 attack points and 1500 defense points, it wasn¡¯t bad, but the real thing that drew Phil¡¯s attention was the realism of the hologram. While the monster wasn¡¯t quite the size of a human (which made sense, if it wanted to fit on the table or in the box itself), the ghoulish, red-skinned monster looked like it was seconds away from jumping out and devouring the woman¡¯s opponent alive.


    The two duelists¡¯ names were displayed on the TVs, hovering in the top left corner. Underneath the names were the life point counters, and the rest of the display was dedicated to showing the duel at hand.


    ¡°Tilla Mook versus Pete Coppermine.¡± Phil muttered the names. Neither name meant anything to him.


    ¡°Card Professors.¡± Chet smirked. He stepped forward, beckoning Phil and Jean to climb down the bleachers with him to the bottom of the room. ¡°That¡¯s the name of the group those two belong to. A bunch of pros, all famous prize-chasers known overseas in the States. Real heavy hitters. They¡¯d wipe the floor with you in a heartbeat. Looks like they¡¯re about done.¡±


    Chet¡¯s words proved true, though Phil had his private doubts about their rumored strength. As soon as Phil¡¯s worn shoes touched the bare concrete floor, Tilla Mook¡¯s Vampire Lady (1550/1550) dealt the final blow to Pete Coppermine¡¯s life points. Phil unconsciously held his breath. He had an idea of what would happen next ¨C the experience of death, the artificial imitation of a brutal penalty game inflicted on Seto Kaiba by Atem after the conclusion of their first duel.


    Yet, once again, Phil was surprised. Instead of the illusions of countless monsters being brought forth to torment Pete Coppermine into near insanity, there were a series of agonized screams. Inside the box, Pete Coppermine writhed in his chair, his long black hair standing on end and his face smudged with tears of pain.


    The man was being electrocuted. It hardly seemed enough to kill, but it certainly looked painful.


    Before Phil could do as much as gasp in surprise, the screams stopped. Pete¡¯s head hung limply as the man gasped for breath, before standing with shaking legs and leaving the battle box without another word to go sit on the bleachers with his head hung low. Tilla Mook left as well, her silverish hair slicked with a small amount of sweat from the difficult duel. She, however, walked in a different direction, coming to a halt at a table with several yakuza sitting around it. One of the yakuza, a fellow with short-cropped black hair and a gold chain dangling around his neck, adjusted the lapels of his grey suit with one hand while his other hand pushed a pile of chips toward Tilla.


    Phil nodded his head, finally understanding what was going on. Chet¡¯s ¡®testing¡¯ comment finally made sense. The battle boxes were still in their development cycle. The experience of death hadn¡¯t been added yet. If it had, there was no way even the yakuza would agree to test the boxes. Instead of getting blasted in the face by an artificial penalty game, there would be a nasty electrical shock zapping anyone who took damage. Something like that wasn''t unheard of in the Duel Monsters universe, as creating some sort of backlash for a monster attack was an easy way to make a duel more tense for the crowd, which would also influence any bets they would make.


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Jean muttered, a wry look on his face, ¡°I assume the crowd is betting on who wins and who loses.¡±


    Once Phil translated Jean¡¯s hypothesis to Chet, the man nodded.


    ¡°A-yup. The crowd is a fine mix of your fellow duelists and rich fellas who want some entertainment. Win, and you have a chance of getting some chips. Lose, and your nuts get fried. Makes the duel real intense, that¡¯s for sure.¡±


    ¡°And no one likes fried nuts.¡± Phil grinned despite the painful stakes at hand. ¡°Is there a line we gotta wait in?¡±


    ¡°Knowing you, Phil, your nuts will get deep fried with how much damage you tend to take in a normal duel.¡± Lumina said. Phil ignored her (probably correct) snark.


    Chet gestured with his palm toward one of the two doors leading into the box.


    ¡°It¡¯s a buy-in of one black chip. Payout depends on who wins and how well the crowd likes ya¡¯. A lot better than upstairs, am I right? Step inside, and we shall see if one of our fine duelists wants to do some newbie crushing today. Shouldn¡¯t take long to find one.¡±


    Phil shared a glance with Jean. Which of them would go first? The prospect of getting shocked wasn¡¯t particularly tempting, but it wouldn¡¯t even compare to some of the shit he¡¯d been through in shadow duels in the past. And if this was a chance to make some good cash?


    Jean brought up a fist. Phil, understanding in a heartbeat, brought up his fist to match him.


    ¡°Rock! Paper! Scissors! Shoot!¡± Phil and Jean roared as one. Once the results were revealed, Phil howled with victory while Jean crumpled to the ground in mock despair.


    ¡°Rock beats scissors! Let¡¯s fucking go! Chet, find me an opponent because I have a great desire to kick some ass!¡±


    ¡°Frere, you have some serious rock-paper-scissors skills,¡± Jean grumbled.


    ¡°My secret is that I always pick rock first. No one expects rock.¡± Phil said. They bumped their fists together and parted. Phil tossed a chip to Chet, who took it over to a side table laden with chips and scraps of paper. Phil then stepped inside the battle box while Jean turned toward the bleachers to sit next to the gothic woman, Tilla Mook. The last thing Phil heard before the doors to the box closed was Jean saying ¡®Hello, beautiful woman,¡¯ in rough Japanese, followed by Jean offering a surprisingly clean and well-kept handkerchief so she could wipe the sweat from her brow.


    Phil took a seat at the table. Dangling from his steel chair were several cables and an assortment of wired electrodes, all of which he assumed dealt with the whole electricity thing. The table itself was rather simple. Like the chair, it was made from steel, and there was the standard set of monster and spell/trap zones etched into it. It looked as if the table itself was the playmat.


    ¡°Ladies! And! Gentlemen!¡± A voice boomed out from a speaker hanging from one of the corners inside the box, ¡°This is your MC, Nando! Bringing in our next game of the day, allow me to introduce a new man to this sacred, blood-filled battleground of duelists! Coming out here all the way from where he lives under a fucking bridge, it¡¯s¡­. Phil!¡±


    Phil extended his middle finger to wave it in the direction of who he assumed was Nando, a man who was sitting slouched on the bottom row of bleachers. The man wore a red beanie around his head and a cordless microphone dangled comfortably in his hands. Nando¡¯s chuckles soon drifted out from the speaker, and the man with the microphone raised a cheerful middle finger in response.


    ¡°Man¡¯s got some fire in his belly, that¡¯s for sure. Anyway, for our challenger¡­ this man¡¯s rumored to have bitten off the head of a newbie who asked too many questions during a duel. He¡¯s got a rap sheet of questionable length, and is in fact wanted by the police for questioning over something he did last week in the McDonald¡¯s a few blocks from here. You all know him, you all fear him! It¡¯s our very own delusional schizophrenic, Mac N¡¯ Cheese!¡±


    At that moment, a new man entered the battle box. The man was shirtless, and two pairs of basketball shorts were wrapped around his bottom half in layers. His eyes were unfocused, with his left eye staring in Nando''s direction, while the other one was locked onto Phil. His hair was cut short into spikes, with the spikes dyed to resemble frost. Frosted tips, Phil noted with amusement. He hadn¡¯t seen that hairstyle in a long while.


    ¡°Wassup.¡± Phil grinned at the strange man.


    ¡°My name is Mac N¡¯ Cheese.¡± The man growled back with all the intensity of a man looking death straight in the eyes, and spitting in its face. "I''m an animal. I can''t be contained. They tried to put me in a zoo, but I chewed the bars off and escaped because I''m built different. There is no weapon on this good earth that can kill me, but I wish there was. I do not sleep. I cannot sleep because the world of dreams is scared of me and uses foul, otherworldly magic to keep me away. I have worms in my head. I can feel them moving around.¡±


    Each word sounded like it was being scraped out behind gritted teeth, while the man¡¯s voice sounded like he smoked fifty packs of unfiltered cigarettes a day, and then ate the carton.


    ¡°Perfect, always good to hear from ya¡¯, Mac ol¡¯ buddy! How¡¯s the wife doing, by the way?¡± Nando said supportively. ¡°Now, before you two duke it out and I have to send for a cleaning crew to haul out what remains of Phil, please attach the electrodes dangling from your chair to your body.¡±


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    As Phil stuck the electrodes onto his arms, he glanced up. Mac N¡¯ Cheese was still staring at him with blatant hostility. He hadn¡¯t even blinked once since his introduction, and the electrodes at Mac N¡¯ Cheese¡¯s chair were stuck firmly to the man¡¯s own nipples.


    ¡°My wife left me two months ago. She took the kids.¡± Mac N¡¯ Cheese¡¯s voice rumbled out, even as a hologram of a coin spun out from the table to flip itself.


    ¡°Heads!¡± Nando shouted energetically, chopping down his hand toward Mac N¡¯ Cheese. ¡°Mac N¡¯ Cheese goes first, Phil goes second! Begin!¡±


    Phil: 4000 Mac N¡¯ Cheese: 4000


    ¡°Draw.¡± Mac N¡¯ Cheese barely glanced over his cards before he made his move. ¡°Petit Angel (600/900) in defense mode. One card face-down, turn end.¡±


    ¡°So, your wife left you. That¡¯s rough, buddy.¡± Phil said, drawing a card. ¡°Did she say why? Oh, and I summon Mystic Tomato (1400/1100) in attack position. Battle phase, Tomato attacks your Petit Angel.¡±


    The scene was brutal. On Phil¡¯s side, a tomato with an evil-looking face hopped over to attack the innocent-looking winged sphere on Mac N¡¯ Cheese¡¯s field, tearing through its body without much effort to leave tiny holographic angel feathers scattered around the area. It wasn¡¯t quite as good as what a duel disk could do, but the solid vision was still impressive.


    ¡°Set one face-down, pass turn.¡±


    ¡°She made me choose.¡± Mac N¡¯ Cheese replied. He was clenching his teeth so tight that Phil could hear several molars crack. ¡°Her, or my demons. I chose the demons.¡± Without elaborating any more on that point, Mac N¡¯ Cheese revealed a monster in his hand.


    ¡°Flying Kamakiri #1 (1400/900) will serve me. Bug, destroy the demon tomato!¡±


    A large, green grasshopper roared to life, its four clawed arms tearing greedily into the evil tomato and taking equal wounds from its teeth in response. Both monsters fell to the ground, and after a second, faded to nothing.


    ¡°Mystic Tomato activates!¡± Phil shouted, followed closely by Mac N¡¯ Cheese declaring the effect of Flying Kamakiri #1.


    ¡°I can special summon another Mystic Tomato to take its place.¡±


    "And I''ll bring forth a wind monster with 1500 or fewer attack points! Soitsu (0/0)!"


    As a small, faceless green man flew onto the field on the back of a paper airplane, Phil had one word to say: ¡°Shit.¡±


    But Mac N¡¯ Cheese wasn¡¯t done yet. ¡°Second main phase!¡± He said, ¡°Spell card, Last Will, activates! A monster was sent to my graveyard this turn, so I can special summon one monster with 1500 or fewer attack points or less from my deck during this turn. Do my bidding, Doitsu (100/200)!¡±


    ¡°Fuck!¡±


    ¡°Doitsu¡¯s effect activates!¡± Mac N¡¯ Cheese roared to the jubilation of the crowd watching from the bleachers. Another strange, faceless small man on a paper airplane had landed right next to the first one ¡°Equipping itself to Soitsu as an equip spell, it will increase Soitsu¡¯s attack points by 2500!¡±


    Soitsu (0/0 -> 2500/0).


    To put it simply, Phil was somewhat familiar with this monster archetype. Starting out weak by themselves, each one of the paper airplane men had another color they would correspond with - a union monster that could be equipped while on the field to drastically boost their attack points. In addition, as most union monsters would, the equipped union monster would serve as a second life for the other monster, sacrificing itself if the monster it was equipped to would have faced destruction.


    Phil watched as the green man, now linking arms to a yellow man, flew around the table on their paper airplanes to perform several impressive barrel rolls before making their landing back on Mac N¡¯ Cheese¡¯s side of the field.


    ¡°HOW THE TURN TABLES!¡± Nando roared, standing up from his seat to pump a fist in the air. So great was his excitement that flecks of spittle rocketed from his mouth to splatter against the glass walls of the battle box. ¡°WILL PHIL REVEAL A REVERSAL, OR WILL MAC N¡¯ CHEESE PUT ANOTHER MAN IN THE HOSPITAL?¡±


    To Phil, the kicker was that the archetype relied on the ¡®union¡¯ mechanic. In fact, it was the old version of unions, where the union monster and the equip target both had to be on the field at the same time, instead of the newer version that often allowed the duelist to equip from their hand. Meaning, his opponent would have to use crutches like Last Will to get the strategy off the ground.


    However, those actions were taken during Mac N¡¯ Cheese¡¯s second main phase, meaning he had no other plays left other than to end his turn.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­¡± Phil muttered to himself, taking a glance outside the battle box to observe the bleachers. A decent-sized crowd had formed to watch, some merely checking out the duel with a sense of mild curiosity, while others screamed their hearts with each twist of the duel. Moreover, it appeared Jean¡¯s charms, even as hampered by his basic knowledge of the language as they were, had worked quite well on the demure gothic woman. The two were arm-in-arm, Jean chattering away in a hodge-podge of French and Japanese while Tilla Mook nodded away with a tiny, almost indecipherable smile on her face. Meanwhile, Lumina sat back next to Jean, sipping on her always-present thermos of tea with a sense of barely suppressed amusement toward Phil¡¯s strange opponent.


    Phil raised an impressed eyebrow. Jean, the self-proclaimed ¡®lover of women¡¯, was certainly working hard.


    ¡°Man, I can¡¯t believe the game I love is in such a state where running a card like this is a good move,¡± Phil turned his focus back to the table, ¡°but as Jean would say, c¡¯est la vie! Let¡¯s flip the script by activating my spell card, Approaching Darkness! By discarding two cards from my hand, those being The Wicked Worm Beast and Rescue Cat, I can flip your Soitsu into face-down defense position.¡±


    That was a weakness all union monsters collectively shared. Because they acted as equip spells when equipped to a target, they would also be forced to follow the rules of an equip spell ¨C namely, if the target was flipped face-down, the union monster (or equip spell) would be sent to the graveyard pronto.


    Mac N¡¯ Cheese neatly flipped his Soitsu into face-down defense position, and then let out a scream of animalistic rage and punched the side of the battle box so hard that the glass creaked in protest. He¡¯d finally realized what Phil was doing.


    ¡°That means my Doitsu goes to the graveyard. How does a noob like you know that would happen? Are you in my head? Are you talking to the worms in my head? Get out of my head! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!¡±


    ¡°A-yup. I know things. It¡¯s what I do. No worms about it, just solid game knowledge.¡± Phil confirmed. ¡°Now that it¡¯s back to zero attack and defense points, I can punch right on through. I summon Witch of the Black Forest (1100/1200) in attack position and move right into my battle phase! Witch, destroy Soitsu!¡±


    The faceless green man fell with a tiny scream under the pulsing waves of dark magic emanating from the purple-haired witch¡¯s fingers.


    ¡°Now that he¡¯s open, Mystic Tomato, swing directly in for a cheeky 1400 strike!¡±


    No sooner than the second after Mac N¡¯ Cheese¡¯s life points dropped, the man let out a series of pained yet excited whoops as electricity surged through the electrodes attached to his nipples to give the man a nasty shock.


    ¡°PAIN INCREASES MY STRENGTH!¡± Mac N¡¯ Cheese roared out, arcing his head back to follow those words with a long, wolf-like howl.


    Phil: 4000 Mac N¡¯ Cheese: 2600


    ¡°Alright dude, you do you.¡± Phil said, ending his turn.


    Mac N¡¯ Cheese let a wide grin settle over his face. ¡°I always do me! Hope you enjoyed destroying my monster, because I¡¯ll be taking one of yours in return! Change of Heart activates! For this turn only, I can take control of your Mystic Tomato! I¡¯ll follow that with Mother Grizzly (1400/1000) in attack mode!¡±


    Without a second of hesitation, Mac N¡¯ Cheese ordered the stolen tomato to destroy Phil¡¯s Witch of the Black Forest, while Mother Grizzly struck directly. However, as the black-furred bear¡¯s claws struck home, Phil bore it all with a grin. He could feel the electricity surging through his arms, causing his hands to involuntarily clench, but he made no noises in response to the pain.


    ¡°Just a shock, ay? I¡¯ve eaten far worse hits before. Built me up one hell of a pain tolerance, that¡¯s for sure.¡± Phil directed the words with a grin toward Nando¡¯s exclamations of surprise.


    ¡°JUST A SHOCK, HE SAYS!¡± Nando¡¯s voice boomed in response, ¡°WHILE WE SET UP THE ELECTRODES TO HIT LIKE A JUICED-UP TASER! DON¡¯T GET ME WRONG, MAC N¡¯ CHEESE IS MY HOMEBOY, BUT THIS NEWBIE¡¯S GOT SOME SPIRIT!¡±


    Phil: 2300 Mac N¡¯ Cheese: 2600


    "Oh, and since my witch died," Phil explained, "I can add a monster with 1500 or fewer defense points from my deck to my hand. My choice is simple ¨C Shadow Ghoul!¡±


    It was really the only play Phil had, other than trying to stall some more with ¡®recruiter¡¯ type monsters until Lady Luck threw some favor his way. His hand lacked the pieces to assemble Twin-Headed Thunder Dragon, nor did he have Soul of Purity and Light readily available. However, his graveyard had two monsters in it, with a third guaranteed to slide in after the tribute summon for the five-star Shadow Ghoul was completed. Of course, another Change of Heart at that point would be nearly fatal, but that spell card was so ludicrously good that one could apply that line of thought to nearly every part of the game.


    Mac N¡¯ Cheese ended his turn with no further moves, allowing Mystic Tomato to fall back under Phil¡¯s control.


    ¡°Draw.¡± Phil muttered, more to himself than to his opponent. ¡°I¡¯ll start things off by sacrificing my Mystic Tomato to summon Shadow Ghoul (1600/1300)! Its continuous effect comes into play as soon as it hits the field, boosting its attack points by 100 for each monster in my graveyard.¡±


    A green, almost insectoid monster with countless numbers of baleful red eyes littering its hide lumbered onto the field, chittering with joy as it soaked in the faint aura of death emanating from the direction of Phil¡¯s graveyard.


    Shadow Ghoul (1600/1300 -> 1900/1300).


    Phil flashed a cheeky grin at Mac N¡¯ Cheese. His next play wouldn¡¯t be so well-received.


    ¡°Then, since I have a feeling you want to summon another one of those paper airplane fellas off the destruction effect of your Mother Grizzly, how about I say no to that? I activate Fissure! This spell card will destroy the weakest monster on your field. Since you only have one monster, that¡¯ll be Mother Grizzly!¡±


    Phil¡¯s prediction rang true. As the bear was dragged down into the depths of a fissure in the ground to be crushed to death, Mac N'' Cheese let out a scream of pure, undiluted rage. At first, the man flexed his considerably sized biceps, but then in a flash of movement, Mac N¡¯ Cheese slammed his own head several times into the table until rivulets of blood wept freely from his forehead like gruesome streaks of warpaint.


    ¡°AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! I GOT TO WHERE I AM TODAY THROUGH VIOLENCE AND I REGRET NOTHING! YOUR END WILL MAKE THE BOOK OF REVELATIONS LOOK LIKE A JOKE!¡±


    Nando let out several whoops of laughter, which the crowd eagerly imitated. Several of the people watching, however, could only let a bit of nervous laughter drop from their mouths before they fell silent. Jean was still busy telling Tilla Mook precisely how beautiful she was, but Phil could see him occasionally shoot a wary glance or two at Mac N¡¯ Cheese, as if he was trying to judge if he needed to run into the box to help Phil survive a potential future physical altercation.


    Without blinking an eye, Phil ruthlessly moved on to the battle phase. ¡°Shadow Ghoul, direct attack! Make him feel some pain!¡±


    Phil: 2300 Mac N¡¯ Cheese: 700


    The man¡¯s emotions rapidly changed, switching from rage to loud exhilarated whoops and howls as the electricity coursed through his body.


    ¡°Ah! It feels like I¡¯m a kid again, getting beaten by my dad with jumper cables behind the woodshed!¡±


    ¡°What? Do you need someone to talk to, dude?¡± Phil said in confusion.


    Without any further elaboration on that topic, Mac N¡¯ Cheese tore the top card off his deck so hard that he put a dent in the card. Then, he grinned. That action was by far the most unsettling thing the man had done so far, even more so than the screaming outburst that had happened moments before.


    ¡°Tremble before my combo!¡± Mac N¡¯ Cheese said, ¡°Firstly, the spell card, A Feather of the Phoenix! By discarding one card, I can return a card from my graveyard back to the top of my deck. I discard Koitsu and return Change of Heart. Then, my second combo piece! By activating another spell, Ancient Rules, I can special summon the level five normal monster, Aitsu (100/100) from my hand in attack mode. My third and final combo piece, however, has been lying in wait from the start! My face-down trap, Call of the Haunted, which will revive Koitsu (200/100)!¡±


    In quick succession, the red, faceless figure of Aitsu flew onto the field on its paper airplane, followed by the blue, faceless Koitsu. Each of the monsters performed several impressive barrel rolls as they flew around Mac N¡¯ Cheese¡¯s side of the field, with Koitsu in particular awing the crowd (now filling the bleachers to the brim) by performing a one-handed handstand while in the middle of the final barrel roll.


    Phil knew precisely what was next. Koitsu, a union monster, used its effect to equip itself to its counterpart, Aitsu, as a spell to increase its attack points.


    Aitsu (100/100 -> 3100/100).


    It was, in essence, a combination capable of creating a monster that was a hair stronger than Blue-Eyes White Dragon, followed up by access to Change of Heart during Mac N¡¯ Cheese¡¯s next turn. It made sense that Mac N¡¯ Cheese was a newbie destroyer. To any other normal duelist, between the attack points and the second life provided by the union monster, the situation would have been nigh-impossible to overcome. But to Phil, this was a Tuesday.


    As Mac N¡¯ Cheese ordered his monster to annihilate Shadow Ghoul, Phil revealed his own face-down card, one that had also been lying in wait for several turns by now.


    ¡°Cool move dawg, but it ain¡¯t enough!¡± Phil laughed loudly and freely. ¡°You keep forgetting the downsides of union monsters! I activate my quick-play spell card, Book of Moon!¡±


    A single second before Aitsu¡¯s attack made contact with Shadow Ghoul¡¯s claws, a great blue book covered in hieroglyphs and many other mystical symbols appeared in midair between the two clashing monsters. The book opened, the pages of it turning rapidly through the influence of some unseen force. Each page flip generated a powerful gust of wind that served to blow Aitsu¡¯s paper airplane off course, spinning the red, faceless monster through the air until it crashed near the edge of the table.


    "That''s the big downside." Phil said as he happily observed his handiwork, "Flip ¡®em face-down, and like any regular ol¡¯ equip card, your equipped union monster goes right to the graveyard and your red dude becomes nothing but a sitting duck.¡±


    Mac N¡¯ Cheese had nothing to say to that other than to glower at Phil as he ended his turn. Once more, the big strong union monster was disarmed, but the duel wasn¡¯t over yet. While Mac N'' Cheese was a hit away from reaching zero life points, there was also a Change of Heart on the top of his deck and a few cards left in his hand. If Phil¡¯s opponent survived, the course of the duel could very well change once again.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see what I¡¯ve got.¡± Phil mumbled as he drew a card. He took a long, hard look at both the field and his opponent. Mac N¡¯ Cheese had no monsters left other than the defending Aitsu, which only had 100 defense points. The cards in his hand were unknown, but his next draw was both known and terrifying. Meanwhile, Phil had his normal summon left, and a Shadow Ghoul with 1900 attack points.


    ¡°Okay.¡± Phil let out a solid breath. ¡°I have a strategy for this. You know what it is?¡±


    Mac N¡¯ Cheese shook his head, and Nando shouted in excitement from outside the box.


    ¡°JUST WHAT DOES OUR NEWEST DUELIST HAVE IN MIND? WHAT STUNNING STRATEGY WILL WE SEE NEXT?¡±


    Phil revealed one card in his hand, the very same one he¡¯d just drawn. ¡°Thunder Dragon¡¯s effect will activate, discarding one copy to search for two more in exchange. This''ll pump Shadow Ghoul''s attack up a tick more."


    Shadow Ghoul (1900/1300 -> 2000/1300).


    ¡°Once that¡¯s done, I summon The All-Seeing White Tiger (1300/500) in attack mode. Ready to hear the strategy name now?¡±


    "YES! PLEASE!" Nando shouted out almost desperately. Tension filled the air like a thick fog, though only Phil knew that even if there was a Kuriboh, he could probably still survive the next turn now that he had two monsters on the field. Then he could hope for a polymerization or another one of his power cards.


    Phil kept his face stoic for several seconds, but soon enough his mask broke and a huge, shit-eating grin spread across his face.


    ¡°Here¡¯s the name! It¡¯s called, keep attacking and pray to your deity of choice that your opponent doesn¡¯t have a Kuriboh in their hand! Tiger, destroy that face-down Aitsu! Shadow Ghoul, give me a Kuriboh face-check! Attack directly!¡±


    The tiger, its shining white fur covered in several pitch-black stripes, pounced across the field to tear out the cowering red man''s throat with a single claw, while Shadow Ghoul chittered in acknowledgment and homed in on Mac N'' Cheese. For the briefest of moments, every person in the room held their breath as the insectoid monster neared its prey. Did Mac N¡¯ Cheese have a Kuriboh, or another card that would perform a similar function? Would the attack go through, or would Phil have to face the Change of Heart that Mac N¡¯ Cheese was only a turn away from drawing?


    The Shadow Ghoul almost appeared to move in slow motion. Its claws inched toward Mac N¡¯ Cheese, getting closer and closer in what felt like minutes, but wasn¡¯t even two seconds.


    And then the claws hit home. No effects were activated, and no monsters were revealed. The crowd went wild, some even throwing their hats in the air. To Phil¡¯s amusement, Jean, the scraggy, yet suave Frenchman he was, had managed to draw a smile and a quiet laugh from Tilla Mook, which looked somewhat out of place amidst her somber gothic outfit.


    Phil: 2300 Mac N¡¯ Cheese: 0

 Chapter 6 - Love Gurus For Hire

    In one final strike, the duel between the newbie and the newbie crusher was finished in the most unexpected of ways. Passion-filled roars from the crowd shook the glass walls of the dueling box. Phil basked in the crowd¡¯s emotions like a cat in the sun. How long had it been since he¡¯d last dueled in front of an audience?


    Well, technically the most recent time would have been whenever he''d attended the tournament at his local game store, but that hardly counted. The sheer passion of the crowd here couldn''t possibly be compared to the game store. There, it would have been a handful of people watching, if any ¨C and most of them would only be doing it to kill time while waiting for the round to end, or to scope out their future competition.


    It wasn¡¯t always like that. The ol¡¯ game store back in his Earth used to be filled with people each Saturday eager to put some cardboard down on a table. After Phil¡¯s¡­ accident, though, he didn¡¯t blame the people that never came back. No matter if the bloodstains were scrubbed off the walls if they were still in people¡¯s memories.


    Here, there were no people awkwardly hovering around the table. Duelists, gamblers, and even a few of the usually stone-cold yakuza were shouting their lungs out. Chips were practically flying in the air at the betting table as people jostled to get their winnings or place bets for the next round.


    ¡°Damn. Well, gg dude.¡± Phil said with a grin, looking back at his opponent. Mac N¡¯ Cheese was slumped over, his head held in shaking hands.


    Apparently, ¡®gg¡¯ was the wrong thing to say at this particular moment. As soon as Phil finished speaking, Mac N¡¯ Cheese¡¯s head snapped up. The man¡¯s eyes blazed like miniature suns, his face full of a wrath that wouldn''t look out of place on a blood-soaked battlefield.


    ¡°G? G?¡± The man roared, strings of sticky spittle flying out of his mouth with every word, ¡°I WILL KILL AND EAT YOU!¡±


    Before Phil could even react, Mac N¡¯ Cheese tore out of his chair, electrodes still firmly attached to his nipples, and lunged at Phil with an animalistic howl of fury. Foam gathered at the man¡¯s mouth, his eyes were bloodshot, and his hands, which looked particularly large at the moment, opened and closed around the air as if he already could imagine Phil¡¯s neck within reach.


    But while Mac N'' Cheese was fast, Lumina was faster. In a blur of white cloth she darted under the table, her body flickering slightly as she adjusted her magic to interact with the corporeal world. Her leg was the only thing sticking out from the safety of the table, extending outward to appear in Mac N'' Cheese''s path just in time for the man to trip over it. Her hand flitted out, jabbing Mac N'' Cheese in his kidney twice in quick succession. Then, as Mac N'' Cheese screamed in pain, Lumina re-adjusted her magic to once more become invisible to all but Phil.


    All of this happened in less than two seconds.


    As Mac N¡¯ Cheese writhed on the ground, the doors to the battle box slammed open to allow several grim yakuza to rush in. They grabbed the man¡¯s arms, heedless of how his broken nose painted the walls of the box in a scarlet hue, or of the blood that dribbled out from his shorts.


    "Time to go," One of the yakuza said, his voice somewhat stilted as he spoke through a nose that seemed to have been broken several times, and healed badly each time. "You''re going right into the time-out box to think about your actions."


    Those words were enough to tear Mac N¡¯ Cheese¡¯s attention away from his injuries and his still-burning desire to brutally murder Phil.


    ¡°No! Not the time-out box! Please!¡± The man piteously wailed. His wails, however, did nothing to soften the yakuza¡¯s stone-cold hearts, and soon Mac N¡¯ Cheese was dragged out of sight.


    ¡°Fuck me. Lumina, thanks a million. You really came in clutch there.¡± Phil let out a sigh of relief.


    Lumina puffed out a breath of air on her closed fist, as if she was blowing off some imaginary dust in a victory celebration.


    ¡°That actually felt kind of good.¡± She admitted with a grin, ¡°You should piss off your next opponent like that again so I can let off some more steam.¡±


    Then Lumina¡¯s eyes widened in realization. ¡°Wait! That¡¯s right, I left my baseball bat back at the office! On second thought, don¡¯t piss off your next opponent until I can write to Raiden and ask him to mail it to me. It¡¯ll be more fun that way!¡±


    Phil grinned and nodded, attempting to bump his fist against Lumina''s, both of them laughing when his fist passed through her own. Then, exiting the battle box, he began walking over to Jean. The man lazily came to his feet, whispering something in Tilla Mook''s ear that made the woman laugh. The sound of her laughter ¨C a series of soft sounds much like crystals dancing throughout the air, was quite different from her gothic style of fashion.


    As soon as her laughter peaked, Jean started jogging toward Phil. Phil increased his speed, and so did Jean, until both men were running full tilt at each other. Seconds before the collision, Phil and Jean jumped to chest-bump the other as hard as they could, both men whooping as they bounced off each other to land back on the floor with unsteady footing.


    ¡°Merci,¡± Jean shot a grin toward Phil, ¡°Good work on beating that crazy man and avoiding getting killed by him. It is my turn, no? I shall make this interesting indeed! While you wait, frere, would you get our winnings from the counter? I bet every last chip on your victory. I had a few extra on the prediction that you wouldn¡¯t drop below 2000 life points.¡±


    ¡°My man!¡± Phil laughed. Jean laughed as well, their combined merriment breaking through the residual shouts of the crowd to reach the bare concrete ceiling. "You better trash this next fella, ''cause I''m betting every last yen on you!"


    ¡°Oui Monsieur!¡± Jean saluted, turning toward the battle box to enter it as Nando announced the next duel.


    ¡°COMING ALL THE WAY OUT FROM THE SAME MOTHERFUCKING BRIDGE OUR NEWEST TERRIFYING DUELIST LIVES UNDER, IT¡¯S THE FEROCIOUS FIGHTING FRENCHMAN, JEEEEAAAAANNNN DUBOIS!¡± Nando was on his feet screaming into the microphone, the excitement from the last duel still infecting his voice. For the briefest of moments, Phil felt a sliver of annoyance at the difference in reception between him and Jean, but soon it was squashed under his happiness that Jean was getting a hell of a welcome influenced by Phil¡¯s decisive underdog victory. Doubtlessly Phil would get a similar welcome in his next game as well.


    ¡°And. His opponent.¡± Nando began in solemn tones, though within seconds those tones shifted into a series of hype-filled shouts. ¡°A beauty. A terror. A TRUE DUELIST! OUR SECOND NEWBIE CRUSHER OF THE DAY, A BEAUTIFUL FLOWER BLOOMING IN THIS CONCRETE DUELIST¡¯S HELL! YOU ALL KNOW HER! YOU ALL LOVE HER! IT¡¯S SAINT SEVENNNNNNNNNN!!!!!¡±


    This time, instead of a crazed shirtless man, a calm and collected woman walked out from the crowd. Appearing to be in her late 20s, the woman had short black hair that was gathered behind her head in a neat, businesslike ponytail. She wore a vibrant green sweater that almost seemed to shine under the fluorescent lights of the underground arena, and a simple black dress that reached down to the tops of her knees. This woman, Saint Seven, truly looked out of place among the collection of strange characters gathered in the underground room.


    Without a word to Jean, she took a seat opposite him in the battle box, calmly sticking the electrodes dangling from her chair to her arms.


    ¡°Beautiful woman.¡± Jean bowed in his seat in a greeting. His words were much slower than normal, his mind appearing to run on overdrive as he attempted to speak in Japanese. ¡°My name is Jean Dubois. May I have the honor of knowing yours?¡±


    The woman raised an eyebrow, jerking her chin toward Nando, who was still busy hyping up the crowd. ¡°I believe I have already been introduced. You may call me Saint Seven.¡±


    ¡°Saint Seven.¡± Jean appeared to savor the name in his mouth. ¡°Well met, beautiful Saint Seven. I regret, however, that it would be against my pride as a duelist, along with being a stain on my friendship with Phil, to take any part of this duel easy against you. That is one thing that even I, a lover of women, must do.¡±


    Saint Seven tilted her head slightly to the side. Even Phil, partially engrossed with placing a bet of every chip he and Jean had collected thus far, was struck by how cute the motion was.


    ¡°I would not expect anything less.¡± Saint Seven eventually replied.


    ¡°AND NOW! IT¡¯S TIME! TO D-D-D-D-DUEL!¡± Nando screamed to the accompanying roars of the crowd with such force that the bleachers shook.


    Jean: 4000 Saint Seven: 4000


    ¡°Ladies first,¡± Jean beckoned toward Saint Seven with a roguish smile, which she did not return.


    ¡°Your funeral.¡± Saint Seven said and drew a card. ¡°I summon The Thing in the Crater (1000/1200) in defense mode. Two face-down cards will join it on the field, and then I end my turn.¡±


    The walls of a small volcano rose from Saint Seven¡¯s side of the field, the crater letting out several belches of ashy grey smoke. Within the crater, however, a small shadowy figure moved, obscured by the smoke so that no part of its body was immediately discernable.


    ¡°That means it¡¯s up to me.¡± Jean said, the roguish smile still spread across his face.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    ¡°The Thing in the Crater¡­¡± Phil mused, saying the words more to himself than to Tilla, who was to his right, or Lumina, who was sitting invisible to his left. ¡°Makes me wonder what¡¯s in her hand.¡±


    Tilla shot a curious look toward Phil, one that went unnoticed until Lumina nudged him in the ribs.


    ¡°When it dies, Saint Seven will get to special summon a pyro monster from her hand. Any pyro, in fact. As long as it doesn¡¯t have any summoning restrictions that would conflict with the effect, it¡¯s fair game,¡± Phil explained.


    Phil glanced toward the betting table, where one of the yakuza was working with Chet to mark down the bets for this game. Phil had already placed a substantial bet on Jean¡¯s win, placing every single chip to their name on victory. No conditions, no messing around with guessing life points, only victory. Unlike Jean, Phil held no amount of optimism in his ability to guess life point values, so that part was left well enough alone.


    ¡°It really makes me question what¡¯s in her hand.¡± Phil said. His hand ran absentmindedly through his beard while he thought. ¡°If my memory serves me right, there aren¡¯t that many high-impact pyro monsters out there. There are some decently big normal monsters that could fit the bill¡­ and I suppose there might also be a big boss monster, but if it¡¯s the one I¡¯m thinking of, that particular monster needs to be tribute summoned¡­¡±


    And then, another thought interrupted his musing.


    ¡°That bastard. It¡¯s barely been a day, how has his Japanese gotten this good?¡±


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    ¡°Draw!¡± Jean shouted, ¡°Chu-Ske the Mouse Fighter (1200/0), to my side! That won¡¯t be enough, so my field spell will activate! Hope you like strolls in the woods, because here¡¯s Forest! All insect, beast, plant, and beast-warrior monsters on the field gain 200 attack and defense points.¡±


    Chu-Ske the Mouse Fighter (1200/0 -> 1400/200).


    Jean chopped his hand forward like a general on the battlefield ordering his troops to charge.


    ¡°Chu-Ske! Strike through her defenses! Destroy this beautiful woman¡¯s monster!¡±


    A monster looking like a cross between a mouse and Jackie Chan leaped forward to hit the side of the volcano crater with a powerful kick, finally revealing the monster inside to the world.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°My monster¡¯s effect activates.¡± Saint Seven stoically declared. ¡°It allows me to special summon any one pyro monster from my hand. Defend me, Flame Cerebrus (2100/1800)!¡±


    Within the crumbling remains of the crater was a massive three-headed dog with a mane of roaring flames. Three fiery tails whipped through the air, the light of which made the creature¡¯s purple skin shimmer brightly like it was studded with amethysts.


    Jean cocked his head, as if he had to think hard about the translation of her words, and then he let out a whistle of appreciation. ¡°Mademoiselle, this one thinks that monster will do much more than simply defend¡­ unless, in my second main phase, I activate the spell card Smashing Ground! It will destroy the monster on your field with the highest defense points!¡±


    As a giant golden fist raced down from the heavens to strike at the three-headed dog, however, a thin blue shield sprung up in the air between the two.


    ¡°Spell Shield Type-8!¡± Saint Seven roared, her stoic fa?ade momentarily broken. ¡°By discarding the Necklace of Command spell card from my hand, my counter-trap shield will gain the power to negate your spell card!¡±


    In an instant, the golden fist shattered to pieces as it hit the shield summoned by Saint Seven, leaving the Flame Cerebrus unharmed.


    Jean shrugged his shoulders. He¡¯d done all he could. ¡°Pass turn.¡±


    ¡°Draw.¡± Saint Seven said, her emotions composed back into that rock-solid formation once more.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    ¡°Big normal monster it is.¡± Phil nodded, pleased at himself for guessing correctly. ¡°Looks like she¡¯s planning on using it to beat Jean¡¯s head into the ground. What about follow-up? I wonder¡­¡±


    Then he nodded again as Saint Seven summoned a new monster, a twisting, flaming snake called Solar Flare Dragon (1500/1000).


    ¡°1500 beater with a burn effect that triggers in her end phase,¡± Phil summarized. ¡°Plus it can¡¯t be attacked while there is another pyro monster on her field. Nasty. Hopefully she doesn¡¯t have a second one in her hand.¡±


    ¡°Why would that matter overmuch?¡± Tilla asked. ¡°Is there a powerful combination with that card?¡±


    ¡°Yuppers.¡± Phil slouched back in his seat. ¡°Get two on one side of the field at the same time, and you get a ¡®battle lock¡¯. Solar Flare Dragon is a pyro monster. It possesses an effect that prevents it from being attacked when there is another pyro on that side of the field. Can¡¯t attack the first copy, and the second copy has the same effect. Thus, you flat-out can¡¯t attack either of the Solar Flare Dragons.¡±


    ¡°I see. Do you think that cute friend of yours can still win?¡± She asked.


    Phil did not even hesitate for a single second. ¡°I sure do.¡±


    Tilla did not reply to that, simply looking at Jean with an inscrutable look in her eyes.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    Jean grimaced as the Solar Flare Dragon tore through his Chu-Ske, followed by Flame Cerebrus taking a large chunk out of his life points. The electricity arcing through his body was painful, making his limbs seize up several times and eliciting pained groans from his mouth, but he had experienced worse. All he could do was grit his teeth and make it through.


    Jean: 1800 Saint Seven: 4000


    In the span of one turn, his life counter was already past the halfway point. Yet, the emotion stirring in his chest was no despair, nor fear. It was excitement. Pure excitement. Excitement that roared like a stoked fire, even as Saint Seven ended her turn and his life points were reduced even further by Solar Flare Dragon¡¯s effect. That excitement could not be dampened by the shocks, but instead increased further, going from the size of a stoked fire to that of a blaze that could devour a city.


    Jean: 1300 Saint Seven: 4000


    ¡°What a turn!¡± Jean praised the beautiful woman, taking a moment while he drew his card to glance at the even more beautiful woman sitting right next to Phil. Tilla. Before today, he¡¯d never met someone named ¡®Tilla Mook¡¯ before. The name was quite unique.


    And the woman it was attached to was beautiful, charming, and kind. She was looking at him right now, as if curious to see Jean¡¯s true worth in a worthy battlefield.


    His hands were steady, his breathing firm. If a beautiful woman wanted a show, then it would be Jean¡¯s honor and privilege as a Frenchman to provide!


    ¡°Pardonne-moi, but now that your strength has been revealed, allow me to do the same!¡± Jean said with a vigorous shout. ¡°Chu-Ske is only one of the disciples of a true master. Come to my side, Monk Fighter (1300/1000)! Then, the disciple calls for the master¡¯s aid! By sacrificing Monk Fighter, I special summon Master Monk (1900/1000) from my hand in attack position!¡±


    As the orange-robed form of the grey-haired Monk Fighter faded away as quickly as it appeared, an old, grey-bearded man with long silver hair strode out onto the field. He was garbed in a similar martial uniform as Monk Fighter, but the old man¡¯s uniform was in tatters from countless training sessions and the stresses of a thousand and one battlefields. Muscles rippled across his entire body, to the point that it looked like even his muscles had muscles of their own.


    Master Monk. It was the strongest monster Jean possessed. While it lacked the sheer attack power of his brother''s Sengenjin, it made up for it with the utility of its effect and the plentiful support cards that could make it even stronger than it was before.


    ¡°Master Monk! Vengeance for your fallen disciples is soon at hand! I activate my equip spell, Gravity Axe ¨C Grarl! It will increase my monk¡¯s attack points by 500, while also preventing your monsters from changing their battle positions!¡±


    Master Monk (1900/1000 ¨C 2400/1000).


    "Battle phase." Jean declared, but no sooner than those words left his lips than Saint Seven held up a hand to stop him in his tracks. To the sighs of the crowd admiring the unintentionally cute action, Saint Seven flipped over her second face-down card.


    ¡°Threatening Roar. You cannot declare an attack this turn.¡±


    Jean shrugged helplessly. ¡°Shame. In that case, I shall place one card face-down and end my turn.¡±


    Saint Seven drew a card, and without barely pausing for a breath, she activated Pot of Greed to draw two more cards.


    ¡°Sacrificing Flame Cerebrus, I tribute summon Molten Behemoth (1000/2200) in defense position. Following that, I activate the Yellow Luster Shield continuous spell card. All monsters on my field, for as long as the shield stays active, gain 300 defense points!¡±


    Molten Behemoth (1000/2200 -> 1000/2500).


    A giant made of cooling magma and molten rock lumbered onto the field, spreading its hands out wide to take a defensive position in front of Saint Seven and the flaming dragon.


    ¡°In my end phase, Solar Flare Dragon¡¯s effect activates to inflict another 500 points of damage.¡± Saint Seven calmly announced.


    Jean: 800 Saint Seven: 4000


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    ¡°Pyro and burn strategies. A tale as old as time. Summoning a monster in defense position to get around Grarl¡¯s effect and using it to keep the heat off of the dragon. Funny, funny.¡± Phil smirked as he watched the situation.


    Tilla furrowed her brows. ¡°But does Jean have a way out? In two more end phases, he loses.¡±


    Phil leaned forward, abandoning his slouch to once more tug away at the tangles in his beard. As he generally preferred to remain clean-shaven back on Earth, having a beard was one of the many new things this time around that he wasn''t quite fully adjusted to. And yet, being able to stroke his beard like some sort of wise master was an almost addicting feeling.


    ¡°Keep doing that and you¡¯ll start speaking in riddles,¡± Lumina laughed, easily guessing what thoughts were zooming through Phil¡¯s head.


    ¡°Hm. Yes, speak in riddles, I shall.¡± Phil muttered back in a purposely creaky voice, keeping his volume low enough so that Tilla couldn¡¯t hear him. Then, he turned his attention back to the battle box. It was true that Solar Flare Dragon could end the game in two more of Saint Seven¡¯s turns. However, it was also true that Jean had a few different ways to deal with this. The big problem was taking out the Molten Behemoth. Doing that would need another way to boost Master Monk''s attack or another card like Smashing Ground. Only then could the dragon be slain.


    ¡°Kaminote Blow¡­ Smashing Ground¡­ Wasteland¡­¡± Phil ticked off the cards one by one on his fingers. Those were the options he knew for sure would be in Jean¡¯s deck. Anything past that would be pure guesswork.


    Jean, however, revealed none of those cards, choosing to summon Minomushi Warrior (1300/1200) in defense position, placed a card face-down, and ended his turn.


    Tilla fell into silence, interrupting none of Phil¡¯s muttered possibilities as she watched Jean hang in the duel with all the strength he could muster.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    ¡°This is the limit of your strength?¡± Saint Seven offhandedly wondered aloud. Her left hand wandered up to her neck, brushing a few strands of hair back behind her ear that had escaped her ponytail. ¡°Unable to break through my defenses and stop the ticking clock. If that is so, then consider this game a symbol of my mercy. There are multiple other duelists in this room who command strategies crueler than mine.¡±


    Jean shrugged, a casual air still wrapped around his body. ¡°Some days the cards do not fall the way we want them to, yes?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Saint Seven acknowledged, ¡°But fall they will. I know not what you plan by summoning that weak monster of yours, but I will not allow it to stay on the field. Solar Flare Dragon, destroy Minomushi Warrior! My turn will then end.¡±


    Jean: 300 Saint Seven: 4000


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    Of all the people in the room, only Phil noticed the savage grin threatening to bloom on Jean¡¯s face. The man was fighting to conceal it, even as Minomushi Warrior was burned to a crisp by the fiery, snake-like dragon.


    ¡°There we go.¡± Phil muttered triumphantly, sitting fully upright with every drop of his attention focused on the TVs above the battle box that showed the duel within. He did not know for sure what the next turn would bring, but Jean¡¯s concealed grin held promise that it would be one hell of a turn.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    ¡°Ha! When it comes to dueling, us French are the best in the world!¡± Jean abandoned any pretense of controlling his emotions as soon as the turn switched to his. ¡°I summon Moai Interceptor Cannons (1100/2000), and then I reveal the quick-play spell card set on my field! Turning the tide of the game, even your monsters aren¡¯t safe! Enemy Controller activates!¡±


    In the center of the field, a large video game controller came into view. The giant Easter Island statues wasted no time. Opening their mouths, they blasted beams of fire to strike at the buttons on the giant game controller. Then they groaned and exploded in a giant cloud of dust, causing the Molten Behemoth to blink and slowly drag itself over to Jean¡¯s side of the field.


    "By sacrificing one monster I control, I can take control of one of yours," Jean explained. "Then, by switching this new monster of mine to attack mode, my win should be assured."


    ¡°Yet¡­¡± Jean¡¯s eyebrow rose, ¡°Mademoiselle does possess a well-rounded knowledge of the game. Permit moi to seal the deal. By banishing my fallen rock-type Monk Fighter, Minomushi Warrior, and Moai Interceptor Cannons from the graveyard, I special summon from my hand Megarock Dragon (?/?)! Its power is simple, for sure! For each rock-type monster that was banished to summon it, Megarock Dragon gains 700 attack and defense points!¡±


    Megarock Dragon (?/? -> 2100/2100).


    ¡°Now! Permit me, beautiful woman, to bring this duel of ours to a delightful end!¡±


    As Jean ordered, the grizzled monk tore through Saint Seven¡¯s Solar Flare Dragon with one mighty kick.


    Jean: 300 Saint Seven: 3100


    A craggy punch followed the kick as a fist made from boulders struck directly.


    Jean: 300 Saint Seven: 2100


    Master Monk leaped forward with its second attack, but Saint Seven grimly revealed a Kuriboh in her hand, discarding it to make the damage done by the monk¡¯s attack fall to zero. Yet as Jean predicted, it was not enough. The final attack, the gnashing jaws of the rocklike Megarock Dragon, sunk deep into Saint Seven¡¯s life points to bring them to zero.


    Jean: 300 Saint Seven: 0


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    Phil leaned backward in his seat, eyes still glued to the screen.


    ¡°That cheeky French fuck, running a Megarock like that!¡± He shook his head in disbelief. ¡°Saved his ass for sure. All my sweating about running into a Kuriboh, and someone finally pulls one out.¡±


    ¡°The duel was well-fought.¡± Tilla agreed. She was looking at the screens as well, with a small smile on her face. ¡°Good-looking, charming, and a strong duelist to boot. Perhaps I should really make him mine.¡±


    ¡°Phil.¡± Lumina said, casting a sharp glance toward him.


    ¡°Lumina.¡± Phil replied, sharing the glance with equal sincerity.


    ¡°Think we should help?¡±


    ¡°I think we should.¡±


    Phil patted Tilla on the back to get her attention. In his mind, he slipped an imaginary set of sunglasses over his eyes. On the side of the sunglasses read one phrase ¨C ¡®Phil, professional wingman¡¯.


    ¡°Okay, make sure to lay it on, but not too thick.¡± Lumina said encouragingly.


    ¡°You know, Jean is true a man among men. He¡¯s real honorable, not the type to cheat at all. In fact, I can¡¯t think of a guy who would treat you better than Jean. I¡¯m honored to call him my brother, after all, and I wouldn¡¯t become brothers with someone who had a crappy personality. With the dueling skills he has, money sure is piling in! He¡¯s funny, too. Give him a chance, ay?¡± Phil finished by flashing what he hoped was a winning grin.


    A bemused smile spread over Tilla¡¯s face, but before she could answer, Phil held out a hand to forestall her words and dashed over to the battle box.


    ¡°Dude. Dude!¡± Phil whispered furiously, opening the door a crack to stick his head in. Inside, Jean was picking up his cards, while Saint Seven, with her ponytail slightly frizzed up, was taking several deep breaths to steady herself from the electrical shock of having 4000 life points drained in one turn.


    ¡°Oui?¡± Jean turned a questioning gaze onto Phil.


    ¡°You know that lady, Tilla Mook, that you were talking to earlier? She¡¯s definitely into you dude!¡±


    Jean pumped a fist in the air. ¡°To battle and glory, my frere!¡±


    Phil shot a wink toward Saint Seven. ¡°Sorry mate, gotta borrow my buddy here for a bit.¡± Then without waiting for an answer, they walked out of the box together. Phil put his arm around Jean¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Now, I think she knows from the announcer that we¡¯re homeless. But with our wins today, if we can keep winning more, I think we can find a half-decent place. You know, something a lady wouldn¡¯t mind visiting.¡±


    Jean nodded sharply. ¡°Oui Monsieur. This is not my first rodeo, though this beautiful woman does make my heart flutter more than it ever has before.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit,¡± Phil grinned, ¡°Now go get ¡®em tiger!¡±


    Phil and Lumina watched like proud parents as Jean, as smooth as could be, slid in to sit right next to Tilla, saying something in French that made the woman giggle. The exchange went on for several minutes, both Tilla and Jean smiling so much that Lumina had to move forward and wipe not only a tear from Phil''s face, but from hers as well.


    ¡°They grow up so fast.¡± Phil said through a grin.


    ¡°The self-professed ¡®lover of women¡¯ is doing well.¡± Lumina agreed.


    As two more people split away from the crowd to enter the battle box, however, Phil put a hand over his mouth in an expression of mock scandal. Jean, the roguish devil he was, had leaned in and kissed Tilla, who happily reciprocated.


    ¡°I think this makes us official ¡®love gurus¡¯.¡± Lumina said, slightly blushing at the sight of the two lovers.


    Phil spread his arms out wide, already imagining the title hanging in thin air. ¡°Phil and Lumina ¨C Love Gurus for hire. I like it!¡±


    Their kiss finished, Jean split away to speed back toward Phil.


    "Phil! We have to duel more people! I told Tilla that our place is getting work done on it, that it isn''t fit for a beautiful woman such as her to grace it with her presence! We must earn that money as soon as possible!"


    Phil bumped his fist against Jean¡¯s own, nodding resolutely. This was his duty, as a friend, as a brother, and as a love guru.


    ¡°In the name of how sweet you two look together, it shall be done. Off to the chips counter! I bet every last chip we had on you, and that¡¯s gotta count for something!¡±

 Chapter 7 - Stealing Your Door, And Other Extreme Sports

    By late afternoon, both Phil and Jean had managed to successfully defeat one more opponent each in the underground dueling arena, bringing their records to a nice score of 2-0 each. Such was the general busyness of the arena that four games in total were all they could manage, while allowing all the other duelists to spend their time in the battle box as well.


    Furthermore, with every cent they had to their name bet on the results of their games, a tidy sum of black and blue chips had been pushed across the betting table toward him by a silent yakuza with close-cropped hair and several scars once Phil finally decided to withdraw for the day.


    19 black chips and five blues. In terms of ¡®Murican money, it was a cool $1950 all in one day¡¯s work.


    Taking the mildewy elevator back upstairs (with Jean kissing Tilla goodbye, muttering solemn promises to meet later), their next stop was the chips counter. There was no doubt about it ¨C finding a halfway decent place to live free of the elements was of the utmost priority, not just for their safety, but also so that Jean¡¯s new girlfriend wouldn¡¯t be disappointed. That, in fact, was of the greatest priority.


    A brief discussion between the two concluded that a sum of 15 black chips would doubtlessly be more than enough for one month¡¯s rent if they kept their wits about them. Meaning after the parlor took its cut, they would have 112,000 yen (~$750) to work with. Then the remaining four black chips and five blue chips could be leveraged into more games when they came back the next day.


    Once the chips were exchanged, they wasted no more time in the parlor, stepping back outside into the snowy wonderland to begin their apartment search. The wind was brutal, every lash of it against their faces feeling like it was not actually wind, but instead a collection of flying blades laying into them to carve deep gouges in their faces.


    Yet, Phil and Jean powered on. Buying cheap long coats at a clothing store to conceal their otherwise threadbare clothes, they tramped from place to place, stopping at every building that had a sign detailing a room for rent. Apartment blocks, houses with owners looking to use up extra space, and more. No stone went unturned, no location was too inconvenient, and no landlord was too shady.


    Each visit came to the same conclusion. Phil and Jean would politely greet the landlord. They would be shown around, prices and lease terms would be mentioned, and deals would be mentioned. But, then the problem would arise.


    Every time.


    Every damned time.


    Without fail, the person showing the pair around the prospective rental would ask certain questions. Suspicious eyes would fall on Jean, the obvious foreigner. No one ever wished to directly rent to a foreigner. Foreigners couldn¡¯t be trusted or relied on, after all. Then those eyes would move over to Phil, who at first glance looked like an average, albeit rugged Japanese man in his mid-to-late 20s. Those eyes would carefully regard Phil, taking in his entire appearance (no matter how vigorously Phil had cleaned himself up in a sink in a public restroom). Then their mouth would open. One word, phrased like a question, would always fall from their lips.


    ¡°Papers?¡±


    Each time that question was asked, Phil was forced to shake his head. He had no papers nor identification. Nor was this something he could gloss over or lie about, as verifying his papers would be pretty damn easy. No landlord would accept a tenant without one or the other, and the presence of a foreigner did not help in the slightest.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    That problem, so simple in its nature, but so impossible to overcome, was what found the homeless duo slumped against the outside wall of a supermarket, taking cover from the snow under an awning of sturdy green canvas.


    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ hell.¡± Phil grumbled, rubbing his hands together in a futile attempt to shake off the cold. The wind still howled like a wounded animal, busily stripping away every scrap of warmth in their body as it rushed around them. In the corner of his eye, Phil could see the inside of the supermarket, bustling with shoppers enjoying the warmth of the building. They too had once been among those shoppers, at least until security tossed them out.


    Jean silently withdrew a matchbook from his pocket, striking one of the few matches left in the book to light up the crumpled cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. Taking a deep drag of the cig, Jean turned his eyes toward the awning and the heavens above, and let out a steady, yet large cloud of smoke from his mouth.


    ¡°Even if you go alone, the results are the same. No papers, no rental.¡± Jean sighed.


    Phil had no answer to that. His mind whirred, like a great machine filled with all sorts of interlocking gears as it tried to reach some solution, any solution. What could be done about this? What there anything? Anything?


    The answer came to him as Lumina slipped into view, looking at him with a tinge of exasperation in her eyes as she sipped away from her always-present thermos of tea.


    ¡°Solomon!¡± Phil said with a snap of his fingers. ¡°He might know someone. Worst case, he could point us in the right direction.¡±


    It was no longer a question of charity now that they had money available to offer up as rent. It was, in essence, a way both men could ask for a hand up from their situation while still keeping their pride intact.


    ¡°Allons-y,¡± Jean shrugged, throwing his cigarette on the ground and putting it out with a turn of his heel. ¡°Lead the way, my friend.¡±


    Lumina, meanwhile, shot two thumbs up toward Phil, sarcasm oozing from every inch of the gesture.


    ¡°Finally he does something smart and asks for help.¡± Lumina grumbled, ¡°Come back next time when pigs learn to fly.¡±


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    The soft tingle of a bell heralded Phil¡¯s arrival at the shop as he opened the door. This time the shop was nowhere near as full, and the tables that had once been crowded by all manner of duelists had been folded up and stacked against a side wall.


    ¡°Oh, for heaven¡¯s sake! I told you once, twice, even thrice! I¡¯m not sel-¡° An irritated shout answered the bell as a grey-haired man came into view, his words cutting off mid-sentence once he saw Phil.


    ¡°Oh! Ohohoho! My apologies, Phil, I thought you were someone else.¡± Solomon Muto bowed apologetically. ¡°Tell me friend, what do you know?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Phil said almost automatically, ¡°Some frogs can jump over 20 times their own body length. That¡¯s a frog fact for ya¡¯.¡±


    The old man, short enough that the top of his head barely reached Phil¡¯s chin, stroked his short grey beard and nodded wisely.


    ¡°Hm¡­ a frog fact well said. Well said indeed! Now, how may I help you? Are you here for a rematch, or are you searching for something in particular?"


    Phil sucked in his breath between his teeth. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind a rematch later, but I¡¯m actually hoping you might have some info on a place that¡¯s renting out and isn¡¯t too picky on documents. Also, who did you think I was?¡±


    The last question was made only out of mild curiosity, but Solomon shook his head sadly.


    ¡°Ah, this boy showed up yesterday offering to purchase my Blue-Eyes White Dragon. Got awfully persistent about it, that¡¯s for certain, even after I told him that under no circumstances would I sell it. And wouldn¡¯t you believe it, but the next day that kid tried to steal it! If it hadn¡¯t been for my grandson¡¯s quick thinking, it may have been lost forever. Kids these days.¡± Solomon ended with a weary shake of his head.


    Phil let out a hum of understanding, while Jean cast a curious eye around the shop.


    ¡°Oh, uh, this is my brother from another mother, Jean Dubois.¡± Phil belatedly introduced.


    ¡°A formidable duelist as well, from the looks of him," Solomon said, looking over Jean from head to toe.


    Jean, having understood enough of those words to get the gist, let out a fierce grin. ¡°Mon ami, it is a pleasure to meet you. Phil tells me you thrashed him quite thoroughly in a duel.¡±


    ¡°Ohoho!¡± Solomon laughed, waving a hand through the air, ¡°It was a well-fought game! If not for the heart of the cards, I would have lost most horribly! Now, about your housing question¡­¡±


    The old man continued to stroke his beard in thought, heading back to the glass countertop to begin piecing together a cardboard display that was lying facedown. Phil moved forward, grabbing a piece with Jean to start helping.


    ¡°Hm¡­ no papers would cause a problem indeed¡­¡± Solomon muttered. Phil slotted the cardboard in place, spreading it out to create the stand that the display would be leaning against. Then Solomon raised his piece of cardboard. Shaped and painted to resemble Dark Magician, the display was about four feet tall.


    ¡°Oho!¡± Solomon abruptly stopped and smacked his fist into his hand as soon as the display was complete. ¡°I seem to remember a good friend of mine, Arthur Hawkins, who retired here to Japan a few months ago. We used to travel the world together. All sorts of adventures, far and wide! From the jungles of the Amazon to the Pyramids of Egypt! If I recall correctly, in his house is an upstairs set of rooms that are cut off from the main area. He was planning on renting those out, I believe? Please, wait a tick. I shall return!¡±


    Before Phil or Jean could respond, Solomon hurried toward the back of the room and disappeared up a flight of stairs, returning shortly with Yugi Muto. The boy was still wearing his school uniform of a blue jacket, and an extravagant golden pendant in the shape of an upside-down pyramid hung from his neck.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Here, allow me the privilege of taking you over to introduce you two to my friend. Yugi, could you mind the shop while I am away?¡±


    Yugi nodded with a smile, and Solomon threw a heavy coat around himself and wound a thick woolen scarf around his neck.


    ¡°Future king of games,¡± Phil whispered to Jean, pointing toward Yugi. Jean raised an eyebrow but glanced over at the boy with a gleam of interest in his eyes.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    The quest took the three men two blocks away from Kame Game to a small unassuming house wedged between an old-fashioned traditional sweets store and a vibrant-colored pachinko parlor. The house was two stories and built in some strange fusion between the traditional Japanese style and the more modern European fashion. To the side of the house, sprouting up from the ground in a tiny alleyway was a metal staircase, which led up to the second floor of the house ¨C doubtlessly this was the upstairs area mentioned by Solomon.


    The door was answered by an American man after Solomon¡¯s second knock. An elderly gentleman wearing a stiff tan suit with a red bowtie, the man excitedly greeted Solomon with a firm handshake and many ¡®Ohohohos¡¯, which were echoed between the two men. Soon they were invited inside to get out of the snow, and Solomon made the introductions.


    ¡°A predicament indeed!¡± Arthur Hawkins agreed, his mustache twitching in delight as he savored the aroma of the cup of tea in his hands. Each man held a cup, filled to the brim with the fragrant brew.


    ¡°Well, no matter! If Solomon has faith in you, then so shall I! Upstairs is a rather interesting domicile. It was originally one room, perhaps around 200 square feet. A number of years ago, before I purchased this house, the previous owner split that room up into two much smaller rooms, and built a small kitchen, perhaps no more than 60 square feet, along the side. This left the top floor with two very small rooms and a kitchen large enough for one person to move around in. Sadly, the size of it all made the upstairs difficult to rent out. But it is insulated from the cold, and each room has enough space to lay a futon down, at least. The water is hooked up, though I fear it may take a few days to get the electricity turned on. Would that be something you lads would be interested in?¡±


    Phil and Jean nodded eagerly as one, and then Phil produced a wad of bills.


    ¡°We don¡¯t need much room at all. I hope you don¡¯t need any papers. How much would we owe you per month?¡±


    Arthur shook his head and began to speak, but a glance from Solomon stilled his voice. The two elderly men shared an unspoken conversation lasting no more than a few seconds, and then Arthur gestured toward the stack of cash.


    ¡°Considering how small and humble the upstairs is, I should think 30,000 a month should do just fine. As for papers, if Solomon has trust in you, then I do as well.¡±


    In other words, ~$200. In Phil¡¯s time, that wouldn¡¯t have been enough to rent anything better than a hovel in the smallest, most rural town. But then his mind shifted gears. This was, after all, the mid-90s. At this point in time, even in America that would be standard rent.


    ¡°Deal.¡± Phil said with no further thoughts on the matter, shaking Arthur¡¯s hand with Jean and handing the man the first month¡¯s rent. A key was pressed into his palm in return, and Arthur promised to stop by the locksmith to order a second key for Jean¡¯s use.


    Several more ¡®Ohohohohohohos¡¯ were exchanged between the two elderly gentlemen, and once the tea ran dry, Phil, Jean, and Solomon excused themselves.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t bad at all.¡± Jean muttered to Phil.


    ¡°Aye.¡± Then Phil raised his voice. ¡°We owe you one, Mr. Muto. Seriously. You need anything, just drop us a line.¡±


    Solomon waved off Phil¡¯s words. ¡°It is the pleasure of the elderly to help the youthful, I do say. You are a good man. Your friend appears much the same. I know that for a fact after our duel. A duel is, after all, a window into the heart of a man.¡±


    Then Solomon grew silent for a moment, looking off into the snowy sky before speaking in a solemn voice.


    ¡°Perhaps by providing a helping hand even one time, this good turn can be paid forward to someone else in need in the future. That, my friends, is a way to better the world itself ¨C a good turn, paid forward to another, who then does the same, forming the most wonderful loop.¡±


    Nodding his head at his own wisdom, Solomon bid Phil goodbye and moseyed on back to Kame Game. Phil tossed the key in his hands a few times and then motioned toward the upstairs rooms.


    ¡°Shall we?¡±


    ¡°Onwards!¡± Jean cheered.


    The metal stairs were covered in fluffy snow drifts, but the steps were sturdy enough. At the top of the steps was a wooden door painted a bright sky-blue color, one that opened up into the small apartment Arthur had described earlier.


    Truly it was a humble place. There was no furniture, the doors were old yet reliable, and the stove was an old wood-burning contraption made of cast iron, one that wouldn¡¯t have looked out of place in a picture in a history book covering the early 1800s. The floor was entirely wooden, worn with age but still possessing a polished sheen.


    It was humble. But it was theirs and it was leagues better than living under a bridge. Here the walls could keep out the wind. Here Lumina would not have to stand guard to make sure none of the others under the bridge decided to stab Phil for his coat. Here they could find warmth, far removed from a barrel fire belching out toxic smoke.


    ¡°Look!¡± Jean cried out in joy next to the kitchen sink, which was a faucet (tarnished with age) hovering over a tin tub that was around the size of Phil¡¯s head. ¡°Running water! And it¡¯s clean!¡±


    Phil whooped with joy, poking his head into both of the rooms. As Arthur had said, the rooms were tiny, being just large enough to fit a futon on the floor and not much else. That was not all, however. One thing Arthur had failed to mention was that there technically was still a living/dining room in the place, a space right next to the kitchen of about five feet in size. Moreover, there was also a small window that peered out over a simple backyard, with neatly trimmed grass and a tree stump in the middle. Next to the tree stump was a large stack of uncut firewood lined up neatly in a pile.


    ¡°Figure we rustle up a length of wood, prop it up on some boxes? Then an axe for firewood¡­ a pot, too. Two futons¡­ guess we can use our coats until we find something affordable. Good thing Arthur settled on $200 a month. Leaves us some breathing room to get small stuff like that. Then, so long as we keep up the win streak, we¡¯re rockin¡¯ and rollin¡¯.¡±


    Phil, of course, left the obvious unsaid. As their wins piled up, the odds would not be as drastic toward them, meaning less money could be made betting on their victory. Their opponents would begin running counter strategies or become stronger overall. To continue making a living like this was possible, but it would be difficult to sustain long-term. Phil knew that. He also had a pretty good idea that Jean knew as well. But that was a conundrum for later. Future Phil and Future Jean could handle it.


    ¡°Perfect!¡± Jean shouted, enthusiasm coloring his voice, ¡°I cannot wait to tell Tilla that the ¡®remodeling¡¯ is done and she can visit!¡±


    Lumina doubled over in laughter midway through a sip of her tea, causing her to choke and sputter.


    ¡°You know this is a stereotypical bachelor pad, right?¡± She joked.


    ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s our bachelor pad, so it''s automatically cooler than a normal one," Phil replied with a wag of his finger. "And it''s paid for by underground duels of dubious legality.¡±


    For some reason those words caused Lumina to erupt into another fit of uproarious laughter.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    Buoyed by the four walls and a roof protecting them from the elements, Phil and Jean leaped into the next day with gusto. A sturdy axe and decent bedding were quickly located at a thrift store, and the dumpster behind a grocery store down the street provided a bounty of several wooden crates, of which to stack a door (that Phil, using a screwdriver, ¡®liberated¡¯ from a construction site several miles away) to use as a rudimentary table.


    Then to top it off, Jean managed to score a wobbly lamp set out on a curb with a sign inscribed with the word ¡®Free¡¯ on it. A quick inspection was all Phil needed to determine the problem, a handful of loose screws near the base that he was able to tighten with his trusty, yet rusty screwdriver. The lamp was bright, glowing with enough light to illuminate most of the apartment.


    All of this was done at the lowest price possible, as both Phil and Jean knew their source of money could dry up at any moment. Or, as Phil quoted to Jean, they needed to heed Murphy''s Law: ''Anything that can go wrong will go wrong''. Often so at the worst possible time.


    Then, finally, it was time for the most important task of all. Jean left on his own to find Tilla. Judging correctly that she would be back in the underground dueling arena, he was back with her within the hour, arm-in-arm to give her a tour of ye olde bachelor pad. As soon as Jean escorted her up the stairs, Tilla went from room to room in the small apartment, her smile growing with each room, to the point that she began to giggle.


    To answer both Phil and Jean¡¯s confusion over her laughter, Tilla could only spread her arms wide to gesture at the place.


    ¡°It¡¯s just like all the stories I¡¯ve heard,¡± Tilla explained with no shortage of mirth in her voice, ¡°Folding lawn chairs as furniture, a dining table made from a door propped up on wooden crates, no decorations to be seen, and are those curtains, or sheets? I think those are sheets!¡± Then she doubled over in laughter. ¡°Jean, cute as you are, I don¡¯t think I have to worry that you might have been cheating on me, because this apartment hasn¡¯t seen a lady¡¯s touch since it was first built!¡±


    Jean placed a hand over his forehead with a wounded, yet comical look over his face. Phil, meanwhile, sunk to his knees, acting as if Tilla¡¯s words had pierced him right through his heart.


    ¡°Mon amour, such biting words!¡±


    Tilla smiled, the shadows cast by the lamp in the corner of the room causing the expression to look slightly monster-like, as if she was a vampire studying her prey.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back.¡±


    Like a whirlwind, Tilla departed, and as she closed the door behind her, Phil narrowed his eyes.


    ¡°Did she have a skip in her step, or was that just me?¡±


    ¡°Tilla¡¯s beauty is such that the world itself dances when graced by her presence!¡± Jean crowed.


    Tilla, regardless of any skips in her steps, was not gone long. Within the hour she returned, two bags clutched in her hands. From one bag she withdrew a set of simple white curtains and curtain rods to match, which she bundled into Phil¡¯s hands with strict orders to replace the sheets in the windows.


    The second bag was next, pulled apart to reveal several framed pictures. One was of the Eiffel Tower, drawn in a soulful watercolor art style to depict the famous landmark at night. Another was of Tokyo Tower, sketched out in pencil with a blazing sun hanging overhead. The third and final framed picture was vastly different than the first two. Portraying a grim armored vampire, the monster stared out at all three people in the room with a barely disguised bloodlust rippling through its eyes. One crimson wing reached out from behind its back, and a head of green hair stood out like a clump of spikey moss on top of a dark purple boulder. Each of the colors was striking, painted vividly so the monster looked real enough to practically leap out of the frame to take a bite out of the viewer.


    ¡°Vampire¡¯s Curse!¡± Tilla happily explained, ¡°A portrait of my most powerful monster to be a vengeful guardian over this household!¡±


    Jean laughed long and loud with joy, grabbing Phil¡¯s screwdriver and reversing it in his palm so that the butt end of it was sticking out. Then, grabbing a handful of only slightly bent nails ¡®acquired¡¯ from the same construction site as the table, he began to hang up the three pictures using the screwdriver as a hammer, with Vampire¡¯s Curse taking the place of honor in the middle.


    ¡°There,¡± Tilla said, brushing her palms together as she admired her handiwork. Then, striking as quickly as a viper, she gave Jean a quick peck on the cheek. ¡°No, no need to repay me, think of this as insurance. If any lady visits your apartment from now on, they¡¯ll know Mr. French over here is already taken and that there will be a¡­ problem if they still try to make any moves.¡±


    Tilla smiled at that, the expression managing to be both dark and joyful on her face at the same time. Phil and Jean, however, could think of no words to say toward that declaration. Eventually Jean shrugged, wordlessly concluding that if the lady was happy, he was happy.


    Keeping his amusement under wraps, Phil grabbed the axe and left to split a few pieces of firewood from the backyard, while Jean rustled around the kitchen to find out where in tarnation they¡¯d left the kettle and tea bags.


    In its own way, Phil realized as he chopped away with the axe, it was their little housewarming party. The three of them, four if he counted Lumina, which he did indeed. Even though she had yet to reveal herself to Jean, she was as much of a resident of their tiny apartment as anyone else was.


    Subdued and relaxed, but a housewarming party nonetheless. And sitting back in the apartment, rapidly warmed by the roaring wood-burning stove, the cold whipping winds outside were banished to fleeting memory.

 Chapter 8 - One Step Closer to Divinity

    The following sunrise saw Phil and Jean back in the underground duel arena. After a good night¡¯s sleep in a space sheltered from the biting wind, both men looked much less worse for wear, though they still were surrounded by a general air of shabbiness that was mostly in part due to their threadbare clothes and ragged beards. It was a problem that could only be solved by, in Lumina¡¯s words, a shopping spree and a decent haircut.


    For that same reason, it had also been put off by the men to a later, unspecified date for when they had both the extra money and the time to waste on such a pursuit. Why solve a problem, they thought, that hardly mattered? Shabby clothes would not bar them from entering the parlor, their usual thrift stores, or even Burger World, which they had returned to as paying customers several times after their windfall the previous day (both to enjoy the delicious coffee and to profusely thank Tea Gardner for her kindness).


    Like most other days, the arena was bustling with activity. A lengthy queue had formed, and after about an hour of waiting, Phil found himself next up to bat once the current duelists in the battle box finished their game. Jean, as unfortunate as the Frenchman was, found himself much further back in the queue. Nearly twenty people were between himself and Phil.


    ¡°Right there!¡± Phil snapped his fingers as he stared daggers at the screens above the battle box, ¡°My eyes aren¡¯t lying. Jim had a Hyozanryu (2100/2800) in his hand. I saw it briefly, nothing more than a flash, but I recognized the card. One of my old buddies back in the day fucking loved using it. I know that for a fact. If he woulda¡¯ sacrificed his Fairy Dragon (1100/1200) and Lizard Soldier (1100/800) to summon it, Jim woulda¡¯ won right then and there. Daiki had nothing on his field that could have stopped it. No face-downs, no big beaters.¡±


    Jean rubbed his scraggly goatee in thought. ¡°A mistake? Or something more, do you think?¡±


    "I don''t know," Phil said. He leaned back, stretching like a long, skinny cat in a patch of particularly delightful sunlight as he prepared to move out once the game ended. ¡°You¡¯d need to be dumb as dirt to make that mistake. It¡¯s possible, but I¡¯ve only met one or two people in my life that would fit the bill. Does he just not care at all about winning? Hard to believe since this is a for-profit format.¡±


    ¡°Unless¡­¡± Phil leaned forward and rubbed his beard. His eyes took on a sharp gleam. ¡°This place is all about gambling. Did someone pay Jim off to take a dive?¡±


    Jean shot a wary glance toward the betting table. Now that Daiki had performed the finishing blow to reduce Jim¡¯s life points to zero, the table was going wild with spectators running up to collect their winnings. Several less fortunate gamblers had broken down into incoherent sobbing messes on the floor after losing every penny to their name.


    ¡°Merde! You might be right. Good thing we¡¯ve only been betting on each other.¡±


    ¡°Damn right!¡± Phil clapped Jean solidly on the back, and then his grin widened. ¡°Eyes up Frenchie, your girl¡¯s in the house!¡±


    Jean quickly licked his palm to start smoothing out his hair as Tilla began to make her way from the elevator to their location.


    ¡°Quick! How do I look?¡± Jean whispered hurriedly.


    ¡°Like a scruffy French rapscallion seconds away from knifing me for my wallet in a back alley,¡± Phil replied with a shit-eating grin.


    ¡°Good! Tilla likes the roguish types.¡± Jean smirked back. Shooting to his full height, Jean wolf-whistled over to Tilla, waving her over to take a seat next to him. ¡°Beautiful woman! Good morning, good morning!¡±


    As Tilla gracefully sat down next to Jean, Phil hopped to his feet and began his march to the battle box now that the previous set of duelists had finally cleared out. Jean had already reserved a bet on Phil¡¯s game, placing their remaining chips (consisting of four blacks and five blues) on Phil winning. No bets were made on ending life point values, as they had a feeling the duelists today would be a little bit more prepared to face them than the day before.


    Within the battle box it was business as usual. Phil stuck the electrodes onto his arms, sat down on the painfully uncomfortable steel chair, gave his deck a quick, yet thorough shuffle, and shot a curious glance at his opponent. So far, both he and Jean had faced an interesting variety of duelists. From screaming madmen like Mac N'' Cheese, to composed beauties like Saint Seven, to ordinary Japanese salarymen like Taka.


    The man who walked into the battle box to sit opposite of Phil was hardly any different. Introducing himself as Amachi to Phil¡¯s cheery greeting of ¡®wassup¡¯, the man had a wide enough grin that it looked like his lips were attempting to break out from his face and run for the hills. His clothes were ragged, to the point where they were filled with more holes than even Phil¡¯s coat was. The skin that poked out from under the cloth was pale, almost sickly looking. That sickly look seemed to permeate both the man¡¯s body and his every action, infecting his movements, his smile, and even his dull grey eyes. Nor did the man appear to be used to moving at all. Each stretch of his arms, each gesture of his hands, was stiff and awkward. His fingers were clumsy as he shuffled his deck, and his lips moved like they were infused with lead with each word he spoke.


    Nando began his usual introduction to the audience. ¡°Introducing.¡± He began in a lower voice and worked his way to louder volumes with each word. ¡°An ordinary salaryman who refuses to give us any more information about his daily life. AMACHI! AND! In the other corner, a man whom I have been informed has moved out from under the bridge to an apartment. PHIL!¡±


    As before, a hologram of a coin flickered to life in the middle of the table, spinning up into the air and landing on the edge of the table.


    ¡°TAILS!¡± Nando screamed. ¡°PHIL GOES FIRST, AMACHI TAKES SECOND! BEGIN!¡±


    Phil: 4000 Amachi: 4000


    Phil drew a card and cooly considered his options. As was the usual for going first, Amachi¡¯s strategy was so far unknown. That meant, in this era of slower play and random blowout cards, moderation would be key.


    ¡°Good to see some old friends in my hand. I set one monster in face-down defense position and one card face-down. Pass.¡± Phil said in simple words, arcing an eyebrow in curiosity over what he would see from Amachi.


    "Draw," Amachi said creakily with a voice that hardly seemed to be used often. ¡°In my standby phase, my spell card activates. Curse of Fiend! Your defense position monster will be changed to attack position!¡±


    Phil sucked in a breath. Interesting indeed. Usually, a normal spell card would be impossible to activate during the standby phase, but Curse of Fiend was one of the few spells in existence that possessed a special caveat in its text that not only allowed its activation in the standby phase, but flat-out required it.


    ¡°Fine by me. Say hello to my flea-covered friend, Bubonic Vermin (900/600), which will get its flip effect activated to special summon another vermin to my field in face-down defense position!¡±


    A tiny hamster squeaked in surprise as it was abruptly forced to reveal itself under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the arena.


    ¡°In my main phase, I activate Call of the Mummy. This continuous spell will allow me to special summon one zombie monster from my hand to the field if I control no monsters. Then, following that I activate Pot of Greed to draw two cards. Using my spell¡¯s effect, I special summon Corroding Shark (1100/700) in attack position! Then I normal summon Decayed Commander (1000/1500), which possesses an effect to special summon one Zombie Tiger (1400/1600) from my hand.


    ¡°A TRUE ZOMBO COMBO!¡± Nando roared, standing up onto the bleachers to hype up the crowd with his every word.


    In quick succession, three zombie monsters sprang to life on Amachi¡¯s field. The first, a rotting great white shark, floated silently in a sphere of water. The second, a zombified samurai, stood at attention, its broken sword at the ready. The third and final was a massive, mummified sabretooth tiger, with bits of brown fur poking out from rotting bandages.


    ¡°Tiger¡¯s union effect activates. By equipping itself to Decayed Commander as an equip spell, my commander will gain 500 attack and defense points.¡±


    Decayed Commander (1000/1500 -> 1500/2000).


    ¡°Attack! Commander destroys the vermin in attack mode!¡± Amachi said. Even though his voice had taken on a tone of excitement, his words were still monotone and rather dull.


    Phil: 3400 Amachi: 4000


    Right as Phil was about to speak, his voice became distorted with pain as a feeling akin to a mule kicking him in the chest roared through his body upon taking the battle damage from the first Bubonic Vermin¡¯s death. Belatedly he realized it was a similar electrical shock to what he¡¯d experienced the previous day, but several times worse ¨C to the point where it actually managed to test his pain tolerance. His arms twitched, black spots covered his vision, his hearing faded briefly, and he could even feel his heart skip a beat.


    "Both commander and tiger will activate their effects! When inflicting battle damage, Decayed Commander discards a random card from your hand! When the monster it''s equipped to destroys an enemy creature, Zombie Tiger discards a random card from your hand!"


    His hand shaking, Phil powered through the pain to flip over his face-down card amid a burst of his own wild, pained laughter. ¡°In response to the discards, my continuous trap card activates! Forced Requisition! From now on, each time I discard from my hand, you must discard the same number of cards from yours! We¡¯re both going down in flames!¡±


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    Lumina¡¯s eyes narrowed with suspicion. That time, Phil had actually cried out in pain. Moreover, she could see a small fleck of blood on his lips. It was small, for sure. Nothing the audience could see. But from where she was, leaning against the inside wall of the battle box to entertain herself with a close-up look at the game, the tiny crimson smear was as plain as could be.


    Something was wrong.


    A glance over to that ¡®Chet¡¯ man caused her suspicions to deepen. The yakuza was watching Phil¡¯s every action with a smirk on his face, as if he was savoring her friend¡¯s pain. It didn¡¯t take a genius for Lumina to put together the pieces ¨C someone had increased the voltage on Phil, and Chet was in on it.


    In the back of her mind, a reckless voice urged Lumina to tear out the man¡¯s throat with her bare hands. Another voice, one more reasonable, mentioned lightly that doing so in front of about 50-odd witnesses could cause problems.


    In the end, Lumina went for caution. Only after she and Phil figured out the situation in its entirety, could any sort of vengeance be done. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like she was the only one who was capable of vengeance. Phil had quite a talent in that field as well. Perhaps if the situation called for it and he played his cards right, that vengeance could also be used as fuel for D.3.S. Frog.


    ¡°Phil. Something¡¯s wrong. Chet¡¯s looking over here as smug as a cat with a fish in its mouth. I think he jacked up the voltage on you for some reason. Either that or someone he knows did."


    "Yeah," Phil said, masking the words with a groan. "I figured."


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    Two holographic dice spun out onto the table to decide which cards would be discarded from Phil¡¯s hand, even as Amachi¡¯s Corroding Shark tore into his face-down Bubonic Vermin, activating the hamster¡¯s effect to summon the third and final copy from Phil¡¯s deck in face-down defense position.


    Hane-Hane and Sengenjin were both lost to the graveyard through cruel, cruel RNG. Even so, Phil hardly paid the losses any mind. Chet. For some reason, the asshole fucked with the electricity. Was it to get more of a reaction from Phil to hype up the crowd? Or was it something else?


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    No matter. The turn passed to him, and Phil forcibly subdued his shaking hands to draw a card. So what if each hit felt like it would stop his heart? He¡¯d gone through worse before. His ribs had been snapped. His skin had been flayed. He¡¯d been burned. Stabbed. Sliced up. Shot. Hit with a truck. Hell, he¡¯d had an insane eldritch abomination screaming in his head for a full night.


    Getting electrocuted was nothing compared to that.


    ¡°Draw!¡± Phil shouted, wasting no time in getting to his next action. ¡°Thunder Dragon¡¯s effect activates! Discarding one copy to add one copy! Forced Requisition triggers to rip a card from your hand!¡±


    This was another of the small strategies baked into the deck Solomon built. Each one was capable of meshing together like gears making up complex machinery, or working alone to get the job done. Here, Forced Requisition would rip a card out of Amachi¡¯s hand each time he discarded to use Thunder Dragon¡¯s effect ¨C and the best part was, Phil could choose to search either one Thunder Dragon, or both Thunder Dragons from the discard effect. Usually there was no point in grabbing one at a time, but with his trap card in play and no Polymerization in hand, the situation was different.


    ¡°Then for the extra fuck you, Thunder Dragon¡¯s effect activates again! Discarding my second copy to search up the third! Forced Requisition triggers!¡±


    Starting with one Thunder Dragon, Phil had completely emptied what was left of Amachi¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Sacrificing my face-down Bubonic Vermin, I tribute summon Thunder Dragon (1600/1500).¡±


    A long green dragon with no arms or legs soared onto the field, with miniature bolts of lightning crackling in the air around it.


    ¡°Battle phase! Thunder Dragon, attack Decayed Commander!¡±


    Even as the dragon tore into the zombie warrior with electrified jaws, Amachi held up a hand.


    ¡°Zombie Tiger¡¯s union effect activates. If Decayed Commander would be destroyed while it is equipped, I can destroy Zombie Tiger instead.¡±


    Phil: 3400 Amachi: 3900


    A spurt of electricity surged through the electrodes attached to Amachi¡¯s chest, so much so that the man¡¯s skin smoked.


    Yet, Amachi did not even blink. He made no such move that would suggest that he¡¯d just been shocked by a dangerous amount of electricity.


    ¡°Pass.¡± Phil said. As much as it hurt, he had no traps or useful quick-play spells to set this time.


    ¡°Draw card.¡± Amachi said. Even now his voice was still in a monotone. ¡°Sacrificing Decayed Commander, I tribute summon Ryu Kokki (2400/2000).


    Phil¡¯s eyes shot wide open. Now this, this was a familiar card. Used often by zombie-type decks in GOAT format, it was a powerful level six monster that possessed an effect to instantly destroy any warrior or spellcaster monster it battled at the end of the damage step. That last bit hardly mattered at the moment, but its 2400 attack points certainly did. It far outclassed Phil¡¯s Thunder Dragon.


    Phil braced himself as the grinning creature made from countless numbers of fused skulls raced screaming toward Thunder Dragon, disemboweling the dragon with one flick of its razor-sharp claws. Right after that raced the jaws of Corroding Shark, slicing right into Phil¡¯s life points.


    Phil: 1500 Amachi: 3900


    This time Phil was ready. With only the faintest of groans escaping his lips, Phil clenched his teeth and tightened his muscles to weather the blast of electricity. Once more he could feel his heart skip a beat, and the taste of warm iron spread over his lips.


    ¡°WOOHOO! WOAH MOMMA!¡± Phil shouted out, pounding his fist against the table. ¡°I tell ya¡¯ that¡¯s the stuff to fucking wake a guy up, that¡¯s for sure. Either that or to fry his balls. Damn well stronger than a cup of coffee, a smile, and a punch to the face.¡± Spouting such cocksure words, Phil was almost able to completely banish the pain to a forgotten corner in his head, to be completely ignored.


    ¡°I draw!¡± Phil said. Three cards in his hand, no cards on the field. It would be difficult for him to rebuild his board presence. Meanwhile, Amachi had no cards in his hand and two monsters on the field. It would be difficult for the man to regain card advantage if Phil broke his board.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    ¡°Phil¡¯s taking the hits hard today.¡± Jean leaned forward with a frown. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong. He¡¯s a strong man. He should be able to shake off those jolts like they¡¯re nothing.¡±


    Tilla fell silent, her head between the battle box and the betting table like it was on a swivel. Then, she spoke, almost hesitantly.


    ¡°I wonder¡­ this is only hearsay, but the Mori Family might be laying some groundwork here.¡±


    ¡°Groundwork?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s different for me. The group I claim membership to, the Duel Professors, has an agreement with the Mori Family. We duel like usual and the crowds come in based on our reputation alone. But¡­ I have heard rumors of the Mori Family pressuring duelists without any backing to take the occasional dive.¡±


    Understanding dawned on Jean¡¯s face. ¡°Did they increase the voltage to give Phil a taste of what would happen if he says no?¡±


    Tilla serenely nodded. ¡°Possibly. One can only know for certain if they send a representative to speak with Phil, or both of you, after this game. It could also be a technical mistake, or your friend simply waking up on the wrong side of the futon this morning.¡±


    Jean tilted his head in consideration and then shook his head. "No. Phil¡¯s like me. A simple shock is nothing to us.¡±


    ¡°Then we shall see.¡± Tilla hummed in thought. Then, she paused, saying a few more words as if in afterthought. ¡°It is a shame our group is full. You two would make fine Duel Professors.¡±


    Jean¡¯s face brightened and he swooped in to plant a big kiss on Tilla¡¯s cheek, causing her to faintly blush. ¡°Beautiful and thoughtful! But no matter, if the rumors are true, then we shall find a way out of this bind ourselves, without sinking so low as to play at any level other than our full strength!¡±


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    Phil powered through it all. Glancing at his hand, he let out a wild cackle and set one monster in face-down defense position.


    ¡°You don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m laughing about!¡± He laughed all the more wildly. ¡°Dawg you¡¯ve got half a GOAT deck that¡¯s gimped to hell and back! Any zombie deck worth its salt shoulda¡¯ killed me by now! Where¡¯s your Vampire Lords? Why no Pyramid Turtles? I should be shitting my pants in fear right now, not laughing my ass off!¡±


    ¡°Draw card.¡± Amachi tonelessly replied, Phil¡¯s taunts falling on deaf ears. ¡°Spell card, Remove Trap, activates to destroy your face-up trap card. Then, my battle phase will begin.¡±


    Phil cleared off his Forced Requisition with a casual shrug. It had done its job of clearing out Amachi¡¯s hand quite nicely, and now that his Thunder Dragons were gone, it was not of much use.


    ¡°Corroding Shark attacks your face-down!¡± Amachi sternly commanded, causing Phil to let out a shit-eating grin.


    ¡°Sorry dude, but it¡¯s Nimble Momonga (1000/100)! And when my funny flying squirrel dies, I gain 1000 life points and pull out two more copies from my deck in face-down defense position.¡±


    Amachi said nothing to that, other than to order his Ryu Kokki to clear off another one of the Nimble Momonga.


    Phil: 3500 Amachi: 3900


    ¡°Now it¡¯s all coming together.¡± Phil said, drawing a card while perfectly maintaining his shit-eating grin. ¡°First, let me sweeten the draw by activating Pot of Greed to draw two! Now, an actually good zombie deck could shrug off something like this next play. Key words being ¡®actually good¡¯. Summoning Sangan (1000/600) in attack mode, I activate Share the Pain! This spell card will force both of us to tribute a monster on our field. My choice is Sangan.¡±


    Amachi wordlessly sent Corroding Shark to the graveyard while Phil resolved the effect of Sangan to add a Giant Rat to his hand.


    "Yes, yes. I know." Phil mockingly waved a hand in acknowledgment. "Big zombie boi is still on the field. Well, guess who just got a dark monster in his graveyard? And guess what needs a dark monster in the graveyard? It''s the one, it''s the only, it''s Chaos Sorcerer! By banishing my light-attribute Thunder Dragon and my dark-attribute Sangan, I can special summon Chaos Sorcerer (2300/2000) from my hand."


    Phil had done this countless times in the past back on Earth. Yet, this was the first time summoning the menace of GOAT format had elicited such a reaction from the spectators. Once the black-cloaked and pale-skinned sorcerer floated onto the field, the crowd went wild.


    ¡°CHAOS SORCERER?!?!?! OUR VERY OWN NEWBIE SUMMONS A VERY ADVANCED MONSTER! DUELISTS, IF YOU¡¯RE STILL PLACING YOUR BETS, YOU¡¯D BEST RECONSIDER, BECAUSE THIS MONSTER HAS ONLY BEEN SEEN IN SERIOUS ADVANCED LEVELS OF PLAY, AND THIS MAN AIN¡¯T NO CARD PROFESSOR! HE DOESN¡¯T HAVE A SINGLE TITLE WIN TO HIS NAME!¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Phil glanced at his monster, ¡°Advanced. Or something like that. I keep forgetting this place is in the fucking stone age. Anyway, Chaos Sorcerer¡¯s gonna use his effect to banish your Ryu Kokki, though he won¡¯t be able to attack this turn.


    And Amachi¡¯s field was cleared of all obstacles. To the impassioned roars of the crowd, Phil flip-summoned his remaining Nimble Momonga and ordered it to strike his opponent directly.


    Phil: 3500 Amachi: 2900


    ¡°Draw.¡± Amachi creakily said once Phil ended his turn. ¡°One monster face-down, turn end.¡±


    Now the flow of the duel was becoming quite clear to even the barest observation ¨C with Amachi¡¯s board broken and his hand emptied, the tempo was squarely in Phil¡¯s control.


    ¡°Well, Chaos Sorcerer can¡¯t banish face-down monsters, so I¡¯ll summon Giant Rat (1400/1450) in attack mode and go right on to battle! Chaos Sorcerer, clear out the face-down!¡±


    A glob of white and purple magic splashed onto Amachi¡¯s card, revealing a bandaged mummy leaning against a chipped gravestone.


    "Poison Mummy''s (1000/1800) flip effect activates. You take 500 points of damage."


    Phil winced but powered on, ordering Nimble Momonga and Giant Rat to attack directly.


    Phil: 3000 Amachi: 500


    Amachi¡¯s body jerked and writhed from the electricity pumping through his skin, but still the man made no pained gasps or shouts. He was silent, eerily silent.


    Amachi drew a card as Phil¡¯s turn ended. He stared at the one card in his hand. It was all he had, other than the Call of the Mummy spell card on the field.


    And then, he placed his hand flat on his deck to indicate his surrender. The crowd went wild, half of them shouting insults at Amachi for, in their words, ¡®pussing out¡¯, while the other half screamed themselves hoarse to celebrate Phil¡¯s victory.


    ¡°No shame in scooping.¡± Phil shrugged as Amachi wordlessly got up. Amachi, however, did not respond. Lurching out of the battle box, either from stiffness or exhaustion, the man simply left.


    Then, as Phil wrenched the electrodes from his body, one of the two doors to the battle box opened behind him. There was something¡­ off about Amachi, but he couldn¡¯t quite get his finger on what exactly that was. It was a gut feeling.


    Before Phil could think about that any longer, a tap on the shoulder grabbed his attention, and he glanced over his shoulder to look at the man behind him. It was one of the sleazy yakuza fellas that normally hung out at the betting table.


    ¡°Chet wants a word.¡± The man jerked his head to redirect Phil¡¯s attention over to the side of the underground arena, where Chet was leaning against a door with a grin on his face. Upon seeing Phil¡¯s gaze, Chet mockingly waved his hand. Phil shrugged, exiting the box and waving Jean over.


    ¡°You think this is about the voltage?¡± Lumina whispered, falling into step next to Phil.


    ¡°Probably.¡± Phil murmured back soft enough so that the yakuza couldn¡¯t hear him. ¡°He better have a good fucking explanation.¡±


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    In a deserted alley not so far away from the duel parlor, Amachi¡¯s slow, measured steps came to a halt. The alley was filled with snow several inches deep, and stinking trash bags lined the walls around dumpsters that clearly hadn¡¯t been emptied since the snowstorm began. Amachi''s body shivered and then shuddered. A fly crawled out from behind his eye to skitter across his skin, tasting the surface with its proboscis. His mouth opened wide to almost impossible lengths, his jaw cracking and splintering as it popped out of its hinges. No clouds of foggy breath billowed out from his mouth. In fact, the man did not appear to breathe at all.


    A smokey substance began to leak out from between Amachi¡¯s jaws as a dark shape took form above his head. Then, Amachi fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Quickly, the shape twisted and swirled in the air until it took on an appearance similar to that of the upper body of a skeleton. Its torso and up were made from that smokey substance, formed into the barest suggestion of bones. Its head, which became slightly blurred by every gust of wind that raced through the stinking alley and across the grimy bricks forming the alley walls, looked like a semi-melted skull.


    Grasping its skeletal hands together, the strange spirit rose high into the air and then dove forcefully downward to disappear under one of the trash bags. For a moment, all was silent aside from the howling wind, but then the trash bag shifted. A man, once hidden under the trash bags, silently emerged. His eyes were lifeless. No pulse thrummed away on his neck, and inside his chest, his heart was still. The body ¨C or perhaps, to be more accurate, the corpse, cracked its neck and wasted no time digging its hands into the snow, bringing a clump of the fluffy white flakes close to its mouth to breathe scorching hot air onto.


    The snow melted almost instantly to form a small puddle of water in the corpse¡¯s hands. Then from the corpse¡¯s mouth a cluster of arcane words that had not been heard in the world since ancient times long forgotten was issued. The water in its hands swirled by itself, first going clockwise, and then counterclockwise. The corpse¡¯s hands then brightened as several glowing red hieroglyphs carved themselves into his palms.


    And then, from within the puddle of water in its hands, a voice spoke.


    ¡°Report.¡±


    The corpse opened its mouth, speaking in the same monotone voice as Amachi once had.


    ¡°Red Summer, I have news. The key and scale have left Domino. The ritual failed to locate the pendant and the ring.¡±


    The voice in the puddle fell silent for a few seconds, and then Red Summer replied with a calm, yet forceful tone.


    ¡°Indeed. Scrying countermeasures are to be expected on artifacts such as those." Then, as if he was only speaking to himself, the voice continued with a thoughtful tone. "I wonder¡­ if it is the materials used or another factor?¡±


    The corpse creakily shook its head. ¡°We used the best available. There is another matter to bring to your attention.¡±


    Red Summer¡¯s voice took on an air of curiosity. ¡°Speak, Pink Winter.¡±


    ¡°A duelist with a soul that does not match his body. Moreover, the soul has traces of divinity left on it. As if at one point it was touched by a higher existence. His talent is not bad.¡± The corpse by the name of Pink Winter replied.


    ¡°Does he know of your full strength?¡± Red Summer¡¯s words sharpened, but immediately dulled after Pink Winter¡¯s response.


    ¡°He does not. I purposely hid the true strategy of my deck.¡±


    ¡°I see. Look into the matter later. For now, clean up the loose ends and return to the sanctum. My auguries have confirmed my suspicions ¨C our chance to take the eye draws near.¡±


    Pink Winter touched a stiff hand riddled with rigor mortis to his forehead in a sign of acknowledgment.


    ¡°One step closer to divinity.¡± Red Summer said, and Pink Winter echoed those words before letting his palmful of water run off onto the ground.


    His task done, Pink Winter turned a stiff head toward the corpse of Amachi. His hand dipped into Amachi¡¯s pocket, pulling out his deck and withdrawing a card from the center.


    ¡°Sparks.¡± Pink Winter said, revealing a spell card of the same name. The card showed a picture of a roaring flame jumping into the air. And, for a moment, the air was silent ¨C until with a roar the air ignited. Fire filled the alley, rushing around the space to consume everything in its path, only deviating from its task to avoid Pink Winter¡¯s stoic form. Trash bags burned to a crisp, metal dumpsters melted into slag,


    And within it all, going almost unnoticed, the body of Amachi was burned to a crisp to leave nothing behind. Not even ash.

 Chapter 9 - Endless Yakuza Hunger

    Jean slid over to Phil before he¡¯d made it even ten feet away from the battle box. A wordless conversation flew between their eyes, the topics of which were few, but grim in nature. Despite their suspicions, nothing could be confirmed yet. Not until Chet could say his piece. Both men were in agreement with that.


    ¡°Phil! Baby! And Jean too. It gladdens my heart that our two hotshot newbies can spare some time to meet.¡± Chet said once they were within earshot from where he stood, leaning against a rather unremarkable steel door set into the concrete wall.


    Phil opened his mouth to respond, but before any words could come tumbling out of his mouth, Chet held up a finger to forestall him.


    ¡°Naw, not out here. Too noisy, ya¡¯ get me? In here, so I can hear myself think for once.¡± Chet opened the door and gestured for them to enter.


    Behind the door was a short hallway with one sputtering fluorescent light on the ceiling that, like the main arena room, seemed to struggle to keep the area lit. Scattered along the walls of the hallway were several more closed steel doors. There were six in total that Phil could see, though there was no telling what could be behind the doors.


    The door closed behind them, Chet ushering them down the hall to a small room at the end. Like the rest of the underground, this room fully embodied a style of utilitarian brutalism that wouldn¡¯t have looked out of place in some Soviet housing block. The walls, ceiling, and the majority of the floor were all solid unpainted concrete. The concrete room, as blocky in shape as it was, appeared almost to be like a cube. By Phil¡¯s rough estimation, the room was perhaps no larger than seven feet by seven feet in size.


    Near the edge of the room opposite the entrance where Phil currently stood was the only anomaly that defied the sheer blandness of the space. Carved into the concrete was a smooth channel, perhaps four to six feet deep, three feet wide, and as long as the room itself was. On each end of the channel there was a hole in the wall, through which rushed countless gallons of clear water from one hole, through the channel, and out the other hole to disappear from Phil¡¯s sight.


    Inside the room there were three pieces of furniture ¨C two chairs placed around a table. The table was close to the rushing channel of water, close enough that Phil knew if he sat at one of the chairs and leaned too far to one side, he would fall in and be left to the mercy of the water¡¯s freezing cold clutches. Next to the table was an odd sight, however. A steel drum sat there on the ground as plain as could be. It was the type that would normally hold oil, like the drum under the bridge that Phil and the other homeless men had filled with flammables to warm their hands against. Its lid was tossed aside on the ground near the barrel, but from where Phil stood, he was unable to see the contents of the barrel.


    ¡°Here now, squeeze in.¡± Chet¡¯s voice interrupted Phil¡¯s musings, and he shuffled forward to stand next to the table so that Jean and Chet could enter the room. Jean moved over to the wall, leaning against it and casting a wary eye around the room. No one sat at the table, not even Chet. Finally, one more yakuza slipped into the room, closely followed by Lumina, who went unseen as usual. The nameless yakuza wordlessly watched Phil and Jean with eyes that resembled those of a dead fish.


    Once more Phil opened his mouth to begin interrogating Chet, and once more the man held up a finger to stop him in his tracks.


    ¡°Sorry fella, but chores first.¡± Chet said. He gestured toward the oil drum. Then, beckoning for Phil and Jean to lean in and take in the contents of the drum, he began to speak in that oily voice of his, though partially hidden under his tones was a hint of snakelike malice.


    ¡°This channel here, it¡¯s all river water, ya¡¯ know? One end connects to the upstream, and the other sends the water downstream. I wouldn¡¯t go swimming in it, mind you. The current is something wicked. It¡¯ll snatch a grown man away like he¡¯s a babe tossed in the rapids. Spends a while underground, too. You¡¯ll drown before you ever reach the river itself. I¡¯ve seen it happen before, ya¡¯ know. Nasty stuff. Boss Guriko caught a traitor¡­ five years ago I think? Wait, six actually. Didn¡¯t even bother weighing the poor bastard down. The boss just picked him up and tossed him in. We found his body, ya¡¯ know. A few weeks later, came up on the riverside. It¡¯s crazy.¡±


    Chet paused momentarily in his rambling speech, his eyes distant as he fell back into his memories.


    ¡°It¡¯s crazy,¡± He repeated. ¡°I never knew water could bloat a corpse like that. He burst like a fat ol'' slug when the cops pulled him out. Only time I''ve lost my lunch on the job. Boss Guriko, though, he stayed as cool as a cucumber the whole time."


    Phil was only half listening. The rest of his attention was taken up by what was inside the oil drum.


    It was a man¡¯s body.


    More specifically, it was the body of a man Phil belatedly recognized. Taka. The older man clutched a cigarette between yellowed nails no more. Instead, his lifeless body was curled up. Several of his limbs looked to have been broken or bent in unnatural ways so that his body could fit inside the oil drum. No longer did Taka¡¯s face look careworn and beaten down. Death had taken that from the man, leaving nothing but the empty expression of a lifeless corpse in its place.


    ¡°He couldn¡¯t pay, ya¡¯ know. That¡¯s not the end of the world, for sure. Can¡¯t pay? We¡¯ll take your kidney. Still can¡¯t pay? We¡¯ll take the other one. For the right sum, any part of your flesh can be turned into money. What are eyes but cash? Your liver? Your balls? Your skin? Somewhere, someone out there will pay a good price. Then after that we can put you to work. We can rent you out to a black company, and if that doesn¡¯t make things right, there¡¯s always a diamond mine in South Africa that needs more warm bodies to throw underground! Cash is king and those without it are lower than the worms in the dirt!¡±


    The malice in Chet¡¯s voice increased to fill every word he spoke. ¡°But then we have the party poopers. He was planning on going to the cops about our operation here to try and get out of his debt. Can¡¯t have that, ya¡¯ know. No, no, no. It¡¯s unforgivable.¡±


    Phil took one last look at poor Taka¡¯s body before he placed his eyes back on Chet. The man was watching his face, and upon seeing the lack of reaction from Phil, a snakelike grin flickered across his lips.


    The sound of a striking match heralded Jean lighting up a cigarette. Other than that, the room was silent. In the corner of his eyes, Taka¡¯s body was still partially in view. Half the dead man¡¯s face was visible, and the longer it stayed in Phil¡¯s peripheral vision, the more Taka¡¯s features seemed to blur together. It was not like his face was blurring together to create some formless mess, but instead, other faces seemed to poke out from the blurry parts.


    First it was Taka¡¯s face, and then Titan¡¯s face leered out at Phil. Then Titan¡¯s face was replaced by Bernardello¡¯s, which melted away to show Dimitri¡¯s boyish features. Dimitri¡¯s face was gone before long, switching to the face of the gambler he killed in Reno, and then into the face of Tragoedia¡¯s human host.


    Phil blinked and Taka¡¯s face came back into focus. Then, without a word, Chet walked up to the drum. He leaned down to grab the lid and popped it on with practiced ease. His foot came up, his shoe resting on the side of the drum.


    One heave with his foot was enough to send the drum tumbling into the channel, where it was whisked out of view by the rushing current of water in seconds.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Chet said. The silence was broken. ¡°Good work out there. You two are strong duelists. The crowd likes ya¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Your point?¡± Phil said. The words were doubtlessly more than simple flattery. The drum was an implied threat. The electricity during the duel probably was as well. Now, what would the threat lead to?


    ¡°That¡¯s what I like about you,¡± Chet grinned wolfishly, ¡°You¡¯re a smart guy. I can tell you know the little voltage increase was my way of getting your attention. Damn near didn¡¯t work, I tell ya¡¯. My boys had to crank that sucker up to just one tick under the lethal amount for you to actually notice it. That''s one hell of a pain tolerance you''ve got, that''s for sure. Hella impressive.¡±


    Chet slapped a palm against his head in a mocking gesture. ¡°Whoops, that¡¯s me rambling again. Phil, we need you to lose the next game, if you would.¡±


    ¡°We?¡± Phil questioned.


    ¡°The management.¡± Chet clarified. ¡°The management wants you to lose the next game. Make it convincing, but lose in the end. Jean, we need you to lose your next game too. Then after that you¡¯ll win against all odds.¡±


    There it was. A request for a dive.


    ¡°Are all the matches fixed?¡± Jean spoke for the first time through a cloud of cigarette smoke. For Phil¡¯s sake, the Frenchman made sure to blow the smoke away from Phil¡¯s direction, toward the entrance to the room. The unnamed yakuza near that entrance coughed a little and glowered in Jean¡¯s direction as the cloud made its way over to surround his head.


    "No," Chet said. "Most of them aren''t. We wouldn''t have any credibility at all if they were. A fix here, a fix there is all we need. Enough to keep the boss and the high-rollers happy. Always keep the money men happy, that''s what I''ve learned. Life lesson."


    Phil nodded in understanding. ¡°So we¡¯re two newbies with a strong record right off the bat. Everyone will be betting on us winning next time, which lets your ¡®high-rollers¡¯ win serious cash when they bet on our loss.¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± Chet snapped his fingers, pleased that Phil had understood so quickly. ¡°Everyone believes you''ll win next, so the betting table will give crazy odds to anyone who bets on the loss instead. We¡¯re looking at tens ¨C no, hundreds of millions of yen for the taking.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Which also means this can¡¯t happen often otherwise people will start expecting it.¡± Phil concluded.


    The attention-grabber. The implied threat. The request. It was all coming together, and Phil hated every second of it. He could see Jean, as casually as possible, rolling up the sleeves of his purple suit in preparation for a fight.


    That was good. They were on the same wavelength. The very idea of taking a dive filled Phil with a type of disgust that felt like black slime coating his stomach. Even if they stood to gain more money than either of them had ever held in their entire lifetime, or in Phil''s case, multiple lifetimes. Jean appeared to agree.


    The question was, how to get out of this without ending up like Taka? Never mind any talk of fighting ¨C a struggle in a small room like this would run a serious risk of someone falling into the channel, getting swept underground, and washing up on the shore of the river as a bloated, drowned corpse.  He didn¡¯t give a shit if Chet or the other yakuza dude went that way, but him or Jean?


    Yeah, no.


    They needed to get out of the room without any issues popping up, regroup somewhere else, and figure out a plan to deal with the slimy yakuza fuckwads.


    Phil put on a self-assured grin.


    ¡°Look mate, I¡¯m picking up what you¡¯re putting down. Since you haven¡¯t mentioned it at all, I also understand that you don¡¯t mind if we bet on our own loss here as well. Everyone makes money with it. It¡¯s just¡­ well, this is all a bit abrupt. My mom, bless her heart, told me ¡®Phil, you rascal, you ruffian, you lovable cad, don¡¯t go making any important business or life decisions until you¡¯ve slept on it, you mark my words¡¯. So, if you don''t mind, I think you have a point but I''d like to give you an answer tomorrow if that''ll work."


    If Phil was any less experienced than he was in the ugly side of the world, he would have missed the flicker of emotion in Chet¡¯s eyes. It lasted no longer than a heartbeat, but the dude was not happy.


    Thankfully that unhappiness did not translate to his words or actions.


    "Never say I''m not a generous man," Chet sleazily grinned. "8am sharp tomorrow, I''ll be expecting your answer. Don''t be late."


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    Phil and Jean did not stay much longer in the arena after that. There was too much to discuss and too many eyes and ears around to discuss it there. With a curious Tilla in tow, they walked over to Burger World, grabbed their usual booth, and pondered their choices.


    ¡°So, it was the Mori Family behind it.¡± Tilla let out a deep breath. While her face was as composed as ever, one of her hands was busy crumpling a napkin to the point that Phil had to wonder if it had personally wronged her. However, she did not seem particularly surprised at the conclusion. More of she was angry her boyfriend was being targeted.


    Phil fell silent long enough for Tea to pass out cups of steaming coffee with her usual cheerful smile. Once she bustled away to help the other customers in the shop, he took a deep sip of his drink and began to think aloud.


    ¡°Chet showed us poor Taka¡¯s body as a warning ¨C say yes or you¡¯re next.¡±


    Jean¡¯s eyes looked like chips of granite as he scowled. ¡°Yakuza. Nothing but thugs, no different no matter what country you¡¯re in.¡±


    ¡°Aye.¡± Phil agreed. He took another sip of coffee. The liquid was blazing hot, only a level below scalding, but the temperature was perfect for combating the winter winds from the outside. ¡°Our pride or our lives. Heh, feels like we just had this conversation.¡±


    That realization caused Jean to laugh loudly. ¡°Oui Monsieur! I seem to remember our decision as well!¡±


    Phil raised his coffee cup into the air. Jean did the same, and the two men clinked their cups together while Tilla looked on with a bemused, if not slightly exasperated expression (an expression also mirrored on Lumina¡¯s face as well).


    ¡°Fuck Chet.¡± Phil began with a sharklike grin.


    ¡°Niquer les yakuzas.¡± Jean continued with a cocky smile to match.


    "And fuck their mothers!" Phil finished. As one, the men downed their coffee in one gulp and then leaned off to the side with equally pained expressions as the insides of their mouths were seared quite handily by the hot liquid.


    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


    ¡°Seriously Phil, what do you actually plan to do?¡± Lumina asked. They were still at the Burger World, but Jean and Tilla had wandered off to go play at a pinball machine in the corner of the restaurant. Phil picked out another fry from the basket. The basket was average size, but Tea had so kindly informed them the fries were bottomless here. That meant for the equivalent of three dollars, Phil could munch on delicious fried potatoes for as long as he cared to.


    ¡°The way I see it,¡± Phil said once he¡¯d washed the fries down with some coffee, ¡°If we go down there and say no, at best Chet will have some lads beat the shit out of us until we reconsider. At worse we go like Taka went.¡±


    All three of them (Phil, Jean, and Tilla) had agreed on that. Moreover, Tilla was of the opinion that this would not be a one-time thing. She had, of course, explained the deal her group had struck with the Mori Family, but neither Phil nor Jean had that kind of backing. Nor could Tilla give it. She could back them herself, but the rest of her group would never agree. It would just be her. No weighty ¡®Duel Professor¡¯ title attached.


    Frankly, Phil was impressed she was willing to go that far. Or perhaps he should have seen it coming, the way she and Jean acted together. A regular pair of lovebirds, those two were. He had half a mind to start planning the wedding now to save on time.


    ¡°However,¡± Phil said through a mouthful of fries, ¡°We go down there and say yes, we¡¯ll be like rats in the gutter. Plus those types of people always ask for more, more, and more, until one day you¡¯re in a car park during the middle of a blizzard busting out windows to look for forgotten purses or easy cars to jack.¡±


    A particularly long fry, one that was about a full foot long, momentarily occupied Phil¡¯s attention. Lumina stayed silent, watching him with considering eyes. She was used to his occasional moments of distraction. She knew Phil would pick the topic back up soon enough.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve been fucking around long enough. Tomorrow we¡¯ll deliver our answer, for sure. But as a condition, which I imagine Chet would accept since it¡¯s harmless on paper, is that I need a regular non-rigged duel against Chet. I¡¯ll feed him some bullshit like I won¡¯t accept working this closely with anyone unless I know their strength as a duelist. You know, real prideful Kaiba-type shit. We¡¯ll do it in that creepy backroom of his so there won¡¯t be prying eyes and there won¡¯t be much backup.¡±


    Phil¡¯s eyes hardened with his next words.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do some wordplay. I¡¯ll say, ¡®Hey Chet, how about we make this a betting game?¡¯ Betting games are fun. He¡¯ll say yes, or I¡¯ll figure out something to say to make him say yes. I¡¯ll sweeten the pot. I¡¯ll put every last penny we have on it. I¡¯ll make a joke. He can bet what he wants, but I¡¯ll joke that we¡¯ll bet our souls too. And then I¡¯ll beat his ass like a drum.¡±


    Lumina¡¯s eyes widened in understanding. ¡°Both parties knowingly placing their soul on the line makes it close enough to a shadow game that you can assign a penalty, even with how weakened the big guy is right now. It won¡¯t be a real shadow game, no real monsters or real damage, but the wording¡­ it might be enough to satisfy any spirit that¡¯s as much of a stickler to the rules as the big guy is.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my thinking.¡± Phil hummed in agreement. ¡°The question will be if it works in practice. If it doesn¡¯t work, I¡¯ll treat it like a weird joke and then Jean and I will be on the first train out of this place. If it works, I feed him alive to D.3.S. Frog. Ain''t that right, buddy?" Phil directed the last couple of words toward his pocket. A deep croak issued out in response, one filled with an ageless hunger and a sleepless malice. It didn''t seem like there was an objection contained in that croak, and Phil considered himself a guy who was good at translating things from frog to human by now. Either that or D.3.S. wanted a handful of fries shoved in his pocket to munch on. To cover his bases, Phil sent a few down there.


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t mention this to Jean because¡­¡±


    ¡°He knows I¡¯ve got something, and when he sees it with his own eyes, I think he¡¯ll be chill. We¡¯re brothers, ya¡¯ know. I have a feel for this kind of stuff. It¡¯s just right now I don¡¯t want to complicate things.¡±


    ¡°The truth?¡± Lumina quirked an eyebrow.


    Phil giggled, taking another sip before answering. ¡°Okay, you got me. I don¡¯t think this would complicate things at all. I just want to see the surprise on his face tomorrow morning.¡±


    Lumina pumped a fist of victory into the air. ¡°I Knew it. Knew it! What a drama queen!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Phil acknowledged, and then a wistful note entered his voice. ¡°Still, part of me wishes I could just fry Chet with some magic to the head and be done with it all. Shame, really. Turn him into a fry. Like this fry.¡± He popped another fry into his mouth to accentuate his point.


    Lumina shrugged in a ¡®what can ya¡¯ do¡¯ gesture. ¡°I mean, you are a human. Most of you lot need a powerful artifact or the backing of a strong spirit to do anything even close to that. In your case, the big guy is a big fan of not interfering, and you''ve got jack squat in terms of artifacts. Besides, magical talent has a certain¡­ feeling to it. A buzz to the air, almost. Even for humans without a lick of training. I don''t get that feeling from you."


    Phil sighed in casual acceptance. He¡¯d had a feeling since day one that would be the case.


    ¡°This is why a children¡¯s card game takes the world by storm, I guess. Don¡¯t gotta have magical talent if you¡¯re good at throwing down some cardboard. Ah well, here¡¯s to that magical Geneva convention putting in the good work! Makes it so scrubs like me don¡¯t have their ass turned into grass.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and without it you would be dead several times over by now!¡± Lumina laughed.


    That was the catch. The ''magical Geneva convention'', as Phil liked to call it for lack of a better name, was the general unspoken agreement between mages to settle grievances within the bounds of a shadow game instead of taking potshots at each other in the streets with fireballs, or worse, testicular torsion spells. Enforced by whatever existence made up the shadows, along with high-ranked spirits like D.3.S. Frog, it was the way things had been for countless eons, all serving to keep the world from devolving into utter chaos (instead of the partial chaos it was).


    Frankly, the whole shebang was quite in favor of Phil. Having no magic of his own other than the backing of a powerful duel spirit, the agreement leveled the playing field, or perhaps even tipped it slightly in his favor if one considered the potential skill gap.


    ¡°Do you think it will end with Chet?¡± Lumina wondered.


    Phil shook his head uncertainly. ¡°Knowing my luck? No. But Chet was our liaison. No one else worked directly with us. With him out of the picture we¡¯ll probably have more time. Time to figure out how to avoid taking a dive. Who knows? It could give us a position of power to negotiate something like what the Card Professors have. Or they¡¯ll be so pissed off at his death that I¡¯ll be able to put D.3.S. back to full strength earlier than expected.¡±


    ¡°Or,¡± Phil said in consideration after a moment of silence, ¡°They¡¯ll catch me by surprise, gut me, and leave me to bleed out in a back alley.¡±


    ¡°Like you would ever die that easily.¡± Lumina smirked. She took a sip of tea from her thermos, glancing at Phil¡¯s breast pocket.


    ¡°Twice now.¡± Phil reminded her. ¡°Shot in the head and run over with a truck. I call that pretty easy.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but in your world, you didn¡¯t have me or D.3.S. to watch your back.¡± Lumina countered.


    ¡°You know, you¡¯re right.¡± Phil drained his coffee cup. ¡°It does make a hell of a difference. The chance to see you beat some yakuza dumbass to death? The attempt on my life might be worth it.¡±


    Soon enough the fry basket was empty once more, and as Tea shot him a knowing look from across the room and began to make her way back to the kitchen for some more, Phil heaved himself out from the booth to walk toward the pinball machine with Lumina in tow. Somehow Jean had maneuvered the machine so that it would accept a quarter to play, and then it would spit the quarter back out through the return slot while still putting the pinball in place for use. Tilla and Jean both were taking turns valiantly attempting to break the high score on the machine. Judging by the fact that Yugi Muto¡¯s initials were next to the current high score, it would be a while. Perhaps they would need assistance.


    That was how the rest of the day flew by. Countless cups of coffee, countless baskets of fries, and a high score that could never be beaten unless one was the King of Games. Phil knew for sure tomorrow had its concerns, but tomorrow was still tomorrow.


    Today was a day for fries, coffee, and pinball with friends.