Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The duelist’s knee hit the duel board with a clang as his life points reached zero and his avatar’s body disintegrated into bright green virtual dust. The automatic command to lock the rogue duelist’s account ran in the background in synch with Borreload Dragon’s roar.

Revolver could almost feel that roar in his bones. Almost.

“That was the last of them, Revolver-sama. Good job.” Another avatar soared up to him on a sleek D-board, clad in a white suit, much akin to a butler Spectre so liked to act as. The access codes of the misbehaving players were running through the screen of Revolver’s visor before they were put on the permanent ban list of Link Vrains. If they could help it, none of these people will harass other players again.

It has been almost six months since they set up their private server solely to monitor the whole network. It had been that much time since Revolver had stuck a deal with Zaizen Akira, the new CEO of SOL Technologies to be the freelance moderators of Link Vrains, to weed out any possible illegal activities that would endanger the users.

And it had been a bit more than six months since they had last seen Playmaker...

Revolver closed his eyes for a short moment against the current before addressing his Knights.

“Scan for unauthorized access.” His command resonated through the voiceline, and the response was near immediate.

“We have three hits but they are all from external sources.” A female voice, Baira answered.

“Then there is no need to remain here.” Revolver turned to Spectre who was momentarily mesmerized by the oaks on the floating island under them. “Log out, Spectre. You need a break. Baira, can you deal with the external sources?”

“I’m on it.”

“What about you, Revolver-sama?” Spectre’s question came as expected, but the slight tilt to his lips irked Revolver more than it should have.

“I still have something to attend to.” He kept his voice steady, eyes on the visible winds of data in front of him even though his mind was already far away. If Spectre noticed his leader’s momentary shift of focus, he decided not to address it. Instead he placed a hand above his heart and bowed.

“Of course.” That was all he said before he disappeared, leaving Revolver alone to his thoughts and purpose. Digging his heels into the surface of his D-board he changed directions, swiftly spiraling down and past the floating islands of the various worlds Link Vrains now housed. If he had to be honest, he didn’t expect the growth they all witnessed in these six months after a certain AI opened up Link Vrains for the masses. He was suspicious the game’s source code was touched a bit more than necessary, but the data material flowing through the network had evolved ever since. Developers all around the world were mesmerized by it, but if anything, it had created more work for the Knights of Hanoi. That... was not a bad thing, actually. With the newfound purpose, Taki, Asou and Genome, and even Spectre were able to pay the price for their past actions. If nothing else, Revolver appreciated the change for this one reason.

But. And there was a big but. It made his head hurt.

Borreload Dragon followed his descend, and Revolver had to remind himself to dismiss his monster manually. With the changes in source code and the evolving data material, even the duel monsters became more animate, and they remained by the Duelist’s side after battles. That was one headache upon another, but Revolver could feel an unexplainable weight lift off his back as soon as Borreload Dragon was dismissed. He took a deep breath and continued his descend, right where the old base code lay.

Right where the very first version on Link Vrains remained.

When he said farewell to Fujiki Yusaku at the docks, he did so with the intention to never again show in front of the young man again. He would keep sailing out at the sea and watch the network just as he promised to Soulburner. However, he never imagined it would be Yusaku to disappear from his life, from everyone’s lives this time.

The first week was hectic. Once his Knights regained consciousness, he immediately ran a scan and determined that the Dark Ignis was gone. The media had confirmed this and informed the public in turn, although the details were, of course, held back. No one would understand how an AI with free will would be able to do anything like it did, but there was no need to either. SOL Technologies were rebuilt from its ashes with Zaizen Akira at its lead. The few employees who decided to come back helped in the restoration of the network, and unanimously voted Akira to be the new CEO. Queen was quickly demoted, and the stocks of SOL Technologies resold. Among the leaders, no one remained who was responsible for so much of the past tragedies.

Akira had relayed this information to Revolver personally, because he felt the Knights of Hanoi needed to know.

The little free time Revolver had while building their new server and connections, he spent it internally panicking because he could find no trace of Fujiki Yusaku. At first he thought it was normal. No one knew what exactly went down on that fated night, but he was one of the few who saw the unresponsive SOLtis bodies modeled after the Dark Ignis lying around in the hangar that was way too quiet and way too grim not to twist his stomach into a knot. He will never admit he went there to check on the aftermath of the duel. He will never admit he felt disappointed when he found no living creature in the light of the morning sun.

After all, he was ready to never show his face to Fujiki Yusaku again, and yet...

When days passed and he found no trace of this one person, he was ready to contact Kusanagi Shoichi. He was probably the closest to Yusaku out of everyone Ryoken knew – and yet again, he will forever deny the prick he felt when that thought reached his heart. But Kusanagi knew nothing of where the boy was, and Ryoken refused to discard his pride and just contact everyone else immediately.

No one had seen Yusaku ever since he went to duel against the Dark Ignis. The realization that Ryoken was the last one who had seen him before he went missing hit him harder than he anticipated.

He buried himself in work. With the network expanding, more and more hackers had their eyes set on wreaking havoc and trying to milk Link Vrains for their own purposes, but Revolver and the Knights of Hanoi had halted any and all kinds of attacks with such intense precision that Zaizen Akira even mentioned to Revolver once that he was glad they were on the same side this time. In a weird twist of fate, Revolver felt the same.

He gained a routine in these six months. He worked on codes and firewalls for the network, patrolled Link Vrains for rouge activity, and then, on his off time, he went deeper and deeper into Link Vrains in search of those data fragments his scanners always picked up but never quite identified; he even managed to convince himself that he was not hoping these fragments would lead him to a certain runaway duelist whose name started with “play” and ended with “maker”.

Revolver slowed his D-board to a halt and stepped off of it onto the stony ground. His steps kicked up heavy dust as he walked through ruined buildings and old, unused duel arenas. He could vaguely recognize the old streets of Link Vrains from when he was still wearing his avatar he designed as a child, ready to destroy the net and the entirety of human technology in one desperate action. He could not see the ruined and temporarily rebuilt Tower from where he was, as he had now ended up at the very edges of the old source code. The dry wind caught the fabric of his coat, but he thanked his introversion that he refused to get rid of his mask and visor. If he had to deal with the dust in his face as well, he knew that simple painkillers would not be enough for the headache he was nursing for weeks now.

He could feel a certain pang, something he decided to associate with being overworked, with being worried about too many things at once to really bother with it. He knew Taki would scold him, and Asou would not let him log in for days if he told them any of this, not to mention how Genome would just freak out and sentence him to bedrest. Spectre might be more understanding, but he would have too much fun forcing him back into bed, and being supported by the others while doing so. Pandor would personally lock his duel disk away, but Revolver had his pride as a leader to keep. The Knights were family, true, but they all had new purposes now. Revolver was ready to play the role as well.

He started the short-distance scan on his duel disk while walking. Unidentified data material was scattered all over this old section, and Revolver was too set on discovering what exactly it meant to leave it alone. With the evolution of the network, it was too dangerous to leave any lingering data up for chance, lest something horrible would develop from it. If he could, he would want to prevent that first little chaos that happened when the duelists realized their duel monsters gained new features without their knowledge. Even he was shocked to learn that Borreload Dragon was especially keen on staying by his side and growl at any and all duelists that walked closer than three meters to Revolver. Not to mention the rest of his monsters in the deck, though he had yet to have the chance to summon all of them in duels ever since the changes started. So far, no one else but Borreload Dragon was needed to obliterate his opponents, and that fact made him feel like an old guy ready to retire. He certainly had the colors for it, if nothing else.

He raised a hand to press the heel of his palm against his temple at the edge of his mask. He must be really tired if he was thinking about useless shit in the middle of the post apocalyptic ruins of the network, but he could already feel his head thrum in rhythm with his heartbeat, and that was just getting more and more annoying.

It took him a moment to realize that another beeping joined the noise of the scan. He got a voice call through his duel disk, and one look at the caller made him groan, deeply and tiredly.

“What do you want?” He didn’t even try to hide his momentarily annoyance at being disturbed in his moping.

“Oh, is this a bad time?” The light, slightly raspy voice of the caller was misleading, because Revolver was sure a few months back this young man would have strangled him on the spot with one arm if he had the chance. “I can call back later.”

“No.” He resisted a sigh, because later could have been even worse, depending on how long it took for Revolver to get something, anything from his research. He was still waiting for the scanning to finish. “Is something the matter, Soulburner?”

It was weird how he could hear the hesitance through the speakers in his mask. He tilted his head just slightly, and considered hanging up if Soulburner did not utter a word in three seconds. Luckily, he did.

“I just wanted to check up on you.”

This time, Revolver did sigh, although quietly enough not to carry through the line.

“Ridiculous.” He continued his walk to let the scanning cover a wider area. “I am in Link Vrains, working, so there is no need for that.”

“Well, you never contact us, so I have to!” There was a quiet passion behind the words, and Revolver could almost see the pinch in Soulburner’s eyebrows. Before he could ask him to elaborate on who exactly the ‘us’ he was supposed to regularly contact was, the duelist continued. “And I don’t want him to return only to see that we have all drifted away.”

Revolver was at a loss of words. In his mind’s eye, he could see hair of indigo and pink, and eyes of such vibrant green he momentarily forgot to breathe. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Revolver shared Soulburner’s sentiment. Maybe that was why his super secret contact information was open for only the selected few, including the fiery duelist himself, not that anyone needed to know that fact. If nothing else, he already accepted that he longed to see the soft features of Fujiki Yusaku again because above all, he was afraid to forget.

“Also, another question.” Soulburner’s voice pulled him back into the grim reality, away from the colors of leaves and wisterias. “What’s the most fitting birthday gift for a girl our age?”

That almost made him halt in his steps, but instead, he just stared blankly ahead.

“If this is a prank call, I am hanging up.” The deadpan in his voice made Soulburner splutter on the other end of the line.

“Wh-wait, help a bro out here, I’m totally lost!”

“That is, unfortunately, a matter I am unable to help with.” Revolver huffed, and the other end of the line was busy with hurried words and possible ideas for the next three minutes before he had to cut into Soulburner’s internal panic to end their call. Soulburner thanked him for his time and help, which Revolver felt he definitely did not deserve, and the line grew quiet again. Only the steady beeping from the scanning process remained, and the headache that did not prevent his mind to wander to the imagery of grass, to greens that were missing from the old Link Vrains.

If only the thrumming in his head would subside already.

His duel disk’s alarm sounded with a loud shriek, a warning that was implemented after the data material evolved in the network, just like many other things. He raised his head and planted his feet firmly on the ground, activating his deck just when glitching, uneven forms appeared behind a ruined chapel.

“The trash showed up.” This, Revolver thought, was one of the worse things ever birthed from the network’s evolution. Nefarious monstrosities possessed by the data material went around the less populated parts of the network and corrupted data uncontrollably. Although there were not many of them, their numbers were rising, and soon enough, they would reach the parts of Link Vrains that are easily accessible to the public. These monsters were roaming around devouring the exact data fragments Revolver researched, so it was inevitable he would run into them, but still.

Dirty black and grey data flowed through the corrupted bodies of the monsters. If Revolver had to take a guess, they were canine-like once, but with the giant maws littered by shark-like teeth, and the talons, they were nothing less than Chimeras born from the nightmares of a madman.

He reached forward with his right hand as the circuit lines around his avatar’s body shone with a bright green light. The monsters heaved and gurgled, drowning under the weight of their own data, but still they approached, dead set on devouring his avatar and anything that currently resided in it. One card appeared right in front of his palm as if he just reached into a datastorm for it, and its light was as radiant as the circuit he summoned it from.

“Appear before me, Borreload Dragon!” His chant echoed through the dead streets like a spell, and he had to close his eyes against the sudden intensity that pierced his temples. The circuits formed into a grid, then it filled up with blacks and reds and greens as the weaponized, mechanical body appeared. He could hear it, a tune he always associated with his dragons that resonated with Borreload’s battlecry. The dragon roared, and one bullet of energy from its maw was enough to disintegrate all three of the monsters.

These things were just mindless, unstructured data. They posed little threat against his dragon, but letting them travel to the surface was out of the question. Revolver walked up to the dust where the monsters had been, one gloved hand reached out to search for a fragment. He did not have to be disappointed. His scanner beeped in acknowledgement as he held light green, ever-moving particles in his hand.

Borreload Dragon growled behind him, and he turned his head to see the dragon watch the data fragment in his hand intently. He had yet to get used to seeing reactions of any kind from his duel monsters out of an actual duel, and to busy his thoughts with something else, he enveloped the data fragment in a protection program and uploaded it to his duel disk for safe keeping.

Most of these fragments ended up being lost in the network by the time he would put his hand on one. Either they were fragile and unsteady enough to fall apart by themselves, or the corrupted monsters devoured and digested them. Which was... another mental image that he did not need.

The creaking sound of metal on metal reached his ears as Borreload Dragon raised its head, as if keeping watch above its master. Revolver closed his eyes against the sound and the noise of static ringing that filled his ears in turn. The dusty road of the old Link Vrains blurred in front of him. Two more of the monsters showed up, same all-teeth-and-talons as the ones before, but all Revolver could see were washed out lines and formless blobs. Borreload Dragon reacted even without his command, and the pain shooting through him upon the dragon’s roar tore a scream from his throat too.

The world swayed, then his knees hit the concrete, he reached for something to hold on to, but the dust and stones were slipping out of his grasp. His head. His head was killing him. A black blur leaped at him, but the roars were there to destroy any adversaries within sight like an automated machine made solely for destruction. His limbs convulsed under the strain to stay afloat in his consciousness, because even through the haze, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that losing himself right now would also mean losing the battle, and losing his life. And why, why did he think that by losing here, he would never be able to see...

He reached for his mask, grabbed at it and pulled with all the force his shaky, virtual muscles could, hasty and hurried and clammy in movements, but it didn’t budge. He felt it compressing, digging into his skull, and that ringing, that shrieking ringing must have been coming from the mask’s speakers because it was just unbearable, and he wanted it off-----

“---llo?”

‘Huh?’

The static stopped.

“Hello, hello?”

‘What is that?’

His sight started to clear. There was no sign of the monsters, and Borreload Dragon perched protectively above him, its arms hovering millimeters from the ground in front of him.

In a daze, he realized his shoulders were shaking from the force behind his grip on the mask, and he had to let it go with a gasp. Suddenly, the fog on his mind cleared.

“Hey, are you there? I’ve been calling for a while. Hellooo?” The waving lilt of that hello was annoying enough to irk him into a verbal response, even if he had to swallow back a lump in his throat before attempting to speak.

“Who are you?” Ever authoritative and collected, his voice left no room for dodging the answer, but whoever the caller was seemed to be dumb enough to not be intimidated.

“Oh, there you are!” The voice, unfamiliar and rather unfitting for the mood of the old Link Vrains, was coming right from his duel disk. Did another user contact him? That was impossible: his contact information was unreachable unless Revolver personally added the user’s authorization number to his personal green list, and this person was definitely not part of that list. “I was kinda worried there, you just fell down and screamed as soon as I got through the line. Man, it’s certainly not easy to get a hold of you---“

“I am going to ask one last time” with his voice as low as it could possibly be, the blabbering finally stopped, though only for a short moment. He raised himself from the ground and straightened his posture into that of a king’s. “Who are you?”

“Harsh! I am no one important, I’m just here to help out!”

Revolver hoped the glare he sent at the gem on his duel disk was enough to urge the caller to talk. Surprisingly enough, his silence was taken as another warning.

“Okay, okay, that probably sounded weird, right?” Revolver could not agree more. “Anyway, uh, let’s just say that there is something weird going on in there right now, and you’ll need a little extra help.”

“I do not need help, especially not from an anonym caller.” He said in finality, and ran a quick reset on his duel disk, effectively cutting any contact through it short. The gem blinked once as it regained its functions moments later. With a sigh, Revolver turned back toward Borreload Dragon that was still standing above him protectively and now stared at his duel disk. What is it with this day and killer headaches and prank calls?

“Nah, you kinda need help, you just don’t know it yet.”

Revolver stopped breathing. He just severed all outside connection to his duel disk, and yet, the voice in it still remained and talked in that eerily happy but calm voice. He stared, a million and one possibilities running through his mind about why this person was still talking to him, but came up with nothing that even relatively made sense. It was physically impossible to connect through his duel disk currently, and yet... He could reach only one solution.

“Are you an A.I.?” He growled, spitting the world with such venom one might think the voice that talked to him hurt his pride.

“Wow, rude.” It had the audacity to actually sound hurt. “I’m a person, you know.”

He found it just a tad bit odd it didn’t say ‘human’, but right now, that was the least of his worries.

“I have severed all external links to my duel disk, so there is no explanation how you are still talking, unless you are an A.I. that downloaded itself to this software. So drop the act.”

“Ah, you are a stubborn one. Well, you see, I’ve no idea what’s the deal with your world there, but this is the only way I could contact you so I did just that, but hell, this is such a roundabout way, even my head is hurting, so I could only imagine yours---”

Revolver felt like he was thrown into a merry-go-round that was set to the speed of a race car.

“What?!”

“What?”

His ribcage constricted under an unnatural weight.

“What the hell are you?”

There was no time to get an answer, because Borreload Dragon growled in warning as a force pushed through the ruined chapel’s walls, raining stone and breakage everywhere. The debris bounced off the dragon’s armor, and Revolver didn’t even bat an eye at the monster that appeared. Unlike the previous ones, this resembled a humanoid giant, broad-shouldered and grayed at the edges where the dirty black data material was flowing out of it like poisonous fume.

“Another one?” They were really intent on going after him this time. Normally, he was unlucky if he found two or three of these things in one sitting, and now they were coming like moth to a flame.

“They are after that soul shard you just picked up.”

Revolver stared for a short moment as he tried to figure out just what the hell the voice was talking about, before feeling the irresistible need to correct him.

“That was fragmented data material.” Borreload Dragon pushed at the giant with its armored hand, and the creature stumbled through the remains of a bridge.

“Whatever you call it, they want it, so I would skedaddle if I were you.”

Revolver was in no hurry, especially not when someone thought they could order him around. He raised his chin in defiance and glared at the source of the voice under his visor.

“You know an awfully lot about this thing.”

“Oh, no? Definitely not. But seems like I know more than you.”

And that, right there, was what annoyed Revolver the most. The giant came back for another attack, but it couldn’t withstand even one shot from Borreload Dragon’s bullets, and it fell on the ground in a cloud of data particles.

“More are coming!”

As if the voice just jinxed it, flying, formless creatures came at Revolver this time from above. A curse was right at the tip of his tongue when a teethed beak almost scraped the tip of his materializing D-Board. He kicked the tail end of his board down and accelerated, soaring above the ruins and away from the flying creatures. They were blind, but just as horrific as the ones before. They stumbled through the air with uneven numbers of wings, and their beaks were littered with the same shark-teeth as the canines’ before. These might even be the same creatures that suddenly grew wings in a feeble attempt to become better hunters, but Revolver was no expert to figure their reasons out. They were creatures to be destroyed, nothing else. Borreload Dragon made quick work of them, as one beat of its plasmatic wings was enough to blow them away in the wind.

Revolver did not stop to continue and observe. With the data fragment gathered, he could log out from a safe zone and analyze it before calling it a day.

“So, um, question.” Hearing the voice speak up again, Revolver groaned, as if he was carrying the extra weight of the snoopy not-A.I. on his back. “When did these things start to show up?”

“I am not sharing classified information with you.”

“Whatever, this might be more complicated than I thought.” There was something underlining in the tone that was used, and it made Revolver glance at his duel disk in masked interest. He could feel something behind the words that he couldn’t quite grasp, as if the voice suddenly grew serious and gained another tune, as if it was someone else speaking. “You’ll have to hurry up.”

“Hurry what up, exactly?” He asked back, words more like a command even when he was asking a question. “I do not care about who you are, but did you really expect to just show up, be cryptic, and think anyone would listen?”

“That’s actually a pretty reasonable line of thought.” The voice admitted, light and amused. “I hoped the urgency will make you act. There are more coming by the way.”

And just like clockwork, the flying monsters were back at his heels, but none of them were a match against Borreload Dragon’s might. A swing from its tail was able to pulverize the creatures, although this time they returned, only to be destroyed again.

They are quite tenacious, Revolver thought. They might indeed be after something he possessed, and there was only one difference in his avatar’s coding compared to a few minutes earlier. The sound of static pulled his attention back to his duel disk. The annoying voice was more distorted and distant when it called out to him again.

“I can’t stay long, but listen.” There was a warning to it that made Revolver wonder, and so against better judgment, he listened, paying half a mind to the sounds of battle behind him. “The Dark One needs you. He is lonely, and lost, and though not out loud, but he is calling for help.”

He could feel his blood run cold at the suggestion, and if his D-board wasn’t automatically flying forward, he would have halted on the spot.

“Who are you talking about?” He could see mesmerizing green eyes and a soft smile followed by a scowl, so trademark on that face that Revolver would be able to recognize it even waken from a dream in the middle of the night.

“I can hear it from your voice that you already know.”

And then, the voice went silent, the static cut off.

Just… what was going on? Too many thoughts were rushing through Revolver’s mind to make sense of anything, and for the first time in years, his mind was blank and unable to come up with a logical explanation to what was currently happening around Link Vrains. And to make it all worse, he slowly but surely came to the realization that all of his current actions were led by one single, gut-wrenching and uncontrollable desire.

He wanted to have Playmaker back more than anything.

A building exploded and collapsed right in front of him. Debris and smoke flew into of his vision, hot air pricked and burned his skin even through the virtual space; he could taste the warm dust on his tongue. He heard a low rumble around him, and when he regained his vision, Borreload Dragon was there, shielding him from the brunt of the explosion, but the force pushed them into the radio tower at the opposite side of the street. Stone and plaster bounded off of metal, Borreload Dragon’s eyes glinted with an unfamiliar challenge toward the clearing explosion. Among the ruined walls, just behind the black smoke and fire, another duelist sped through on a white, black and blue D-board, and as he emerged, he pulled the dust after him.

Revolver felt his mouth dry as he caught a glimpse of the black and green bodysuit and the flaming hair. The duelist flew through the explosion with practiced swiftness and grace, one that was so like him, so undeniably him it halted Revolver’s thoughts for a short moment. Even the duelist slowed his descend when he saw Borreload Dragon and then its master. When Revolver’s eyes locked into sharp greens, he felt he was able to breathe again.

“---Playmaker.”

Chapter Text

Breathe.

That’s all Revolver’s body was able to do without his mind’s command after he had seen Playmaker, alive and well. Playmaker stopped, hovering a few meters away from him and Borreload Dragon, mouth set in a firm line, eyes wide as if he was caught red-handed in a raid. Revolver didn’t miss the tense edge of his shoulders and the clenched fists, nor the way the duelist refused to verbally acknowledge him.

Another explosion sounded right beside them from the already flaming building, and both of the duelists turned toward the source. Revolver straightened his posture on his D-board, and Borreload Dragon raised its head into a battle-ready stance. The monster, the thing that emerged was nothing like the corrupted ones Revolver had fought before. An enormous head pushed through the flames, elongated, ragged, with a too big mouth that split it in half and oozed grayed data muck down its own throat. It was hard to tell what it might want to be, but as more and more of its formless body emerged and a pair of flat, clawed wings were raised above the smoke, it started to resemble a dragon. Revolver mentally apologized to all of his dragons for ever feeling this pathetic excuse of a beast might be anything like them. The indignant huff from Borreload Dragon beside him might have only been his imagination.

The gluttonous grey monster opened its mouth wide, but only a gurgling sound came from it. It pushed its body into the air and away from the building, then with surprising swiftness, leaped right at Playmaker.

The duelist kicked his D-board into motion and sped away from the monster’s gaping mouth without giving so much as a glance to anyone else. Revolver clicked his tongue and raised his arm forward. Borreload Dragon roared, a powerful, earth-shattering roar, and rushed right at the monstrosity that had its sight set on Playmaker. The two bodies clashed, but the fragile grey monster had little chance against the sturdy and armored form of the Dragon.

Revolver paid no mind to the fight – his monster will easily deal with any adversary. Instead, he turned his D-board toward Playmaker, and followed the runaway duelist among the bullets and grey fume the two monsters’ battle kicked up. Revolver could feel an uncomfortable lump constricting his throat, his heart hammering painfully against his ribcage despite living in nothing more and an illusion right now as he stared at Playmaker’s back. The slender form, the slight tensing of the shoulders as Playmaker wanted to turn back to check for enemies behind him but stopping at the last moment for whatever reason, the way the circuit lines on his jumpsuit reflected the light even if they were not activated…

Revolver remembered the details still, but seeing it instead of straining his memory was just a little bit more exhilarating. The warm wind that Borreload Dragon’s wings kicked up pushed him forward, and when its opponent crashed into the stony ground, Revolver already caught up to the escapee.

“Halt!” His hand grabbed for Playmaker’s wrist, fingers held fast as he pulled back to force the other duelist into a slow hover above the remains of the corrupted being. Playmaker froze, and didn’t turn around for a few long moments, but when he did, Revolver was lost in green, and in the reminiscence of days gone when he still wanted to complete the Tower of Hanoi and Playmaker was nothing more than an annoyance.

“Let me go, Revolver.” That voice was colder than his own heart. It scrapped all of the carefully planned questions from his mind, and he answered Playmaker’s glare with his own.

“Where were you all this time?” He could barely believe that this was the question he blurted out in the end. A low rumble was heard from under them as the corrupted data material came back to life for another rushed attack that Borreload Dragon intercepted with ease. Playmaker’s eyes darted down at the monster, then back at Revolver with renewed intensity.

“I said,” his muscles tensed, “let me go!” Playmaker twisted his wrist out of his grasp and swung around, angling his D-board toward the sky where the closest safe zone was. Borreload Dragon flew up to stop the duelist, but Revolver raised a hand which halted the monster’s movement. The dragon looked at its master with head tilted in puzzlement, but Revolver only had the receding form of Playmaker in his sight.

‘Let me go.’

The echo he heard in his mind was only due to his previous headache and tired mind, he told himself.

The gurgling roar from below told him that the corrupted monster was back again, still intent on fighting. Revolver looked down at it from behind lowered lashes, chin held high, limbs stiff and heavy like lead. Borreload Dragon spread its wings wide and flew at the monster, crashed against it, swung its claws and fangs in vicious strikes, with such strength that not even a dust of data remained after the pitiful creature. Borreload Dragon heaved, and even once the creature was nothing more than particles in the wind, it punched the buildings and the ground, lashed out with its tail, rendering the ruins to debris and trash, over and over, growling and howling at the motionless and empty and ruined world around it.

Revolver dismissed the dragon with one flick of his wrist, then flew up towards the safe zone to log out.

o-o-O-O-o-o

Ryoken opened his eyes to the light of the overhead lamp, then immediately closed them again when he felt pain shooting through into his temples. His head throbbed in rhythm with his quickened heartbeat. It was more and more tempting to just stay there in the VR room and lay on the soft chair, ignoring the outside world for days or preferably months, but something in the back of his mind, the same thing that was responsible for his annoyingly fluttering heart urged him to sit up from the confines of the chair and gently touch his shoes to the tiled floor.

He was the single living person in the room. The six chairs were all empty, and aside from the reflected light from the circuit lines on the wall, there was no movement. Which was a complete lie, because Ryoken could swear the room was swaying due to a storm raging outside, and the only reason he could not hear the thunder and the wind was the soundproof material surrounding him.

He rolled his shoulders back and stood up, steps careful and calculated as he exited through the automatic door right into the command room.

“Welcome back, Ryoken-sama,” the maroon-haired female greeted him and stopped typing on her keyboard. Taki Kyoko was sitting right across him behind a polished white table, and smiled softly as she looked up at him. In the middle of the room, there was the spherical map of the network, showing the generalized state of Link Vrains and everything else hyperlinked to it. Around it were the work stations of the Knights of Hanoi; the far wall was switched for a monitor, currently black and motionless. “How did your research go?”

Where to even start, Ryoken thought.

“Some unseen complications arose,” was what he chose to summarize his night as, and he sat in front of an unoccupied keyboard across the monitor and the sphere. After unclasping his duel disk, he dropped it on the scanning surface, which made Kyoko raise her eyebrow in concern.

“Is something wrong with your duel disk?”

“There was an unauthorized call while I was linked in.”

“Shall I check the source?”

“That is fine, I will do it,” Ryoken looked up at her just as he started the automatic program. “What about those three external sources that attacked the network?” His eyes glanced back to his screen, and when the surface scan showed no strange activity in the past twenty-four hours, he pulled up the duel disk’s log and source code to dig deeper.

“None of them were a real threat,” Kyoko answered. “One of them was from an address around Den City, and the other two were from abroad, both from America.”

“Were they related?” Ryoken frowned.

“It does not seem so,” She reassured him, and continued typing. “I am uploading my daily report.”

After a short moment of thinking his words through carefully, he tapped on his desk.

“If you have the time, can you do me a favor?” To that, Kyoko looked up with curious wonder, which made him just a tad bit self-conscious. “Can you make a list of appropriate gifts for a teenage girl and send it to Homura Takeru?”

Her expression froze into a comical surprise that Ryoken would have found funny if he wasn’t already on edge for asking this of Kyoko so late at night. But in the end, she let a short, breathy laugh leave her lips.

“Of course, Ryoken-sama.”

He nodded, reassured that she wasn’t questioning him for that requests, and then he turned back to his screen to get more and more distracted by the code in front of him. Nothing indicated that he got a call while he was there in the old Vrains, which just made the situation more suspicious. Whoever called him erased their trace from the log completely. They were either a skilled programmer or... No, there was no other possible option.

He touched a hand to his chin, tapping once, twice, thrice. That stranger was more than odd, incredibly cryptic with their words, making little to no sense at all. It was an understatement to say he didn’t like them. And the fact Ryoken will be unable to track them made it worse. He might have to write a new tracking code for this specific person, but that will have to wait.

He closed the logs and opened up the data fragment from the internal drive instead.

“Ryoken-sama, welcome back.” Another voice called out to him, more distorted, but definitely female. He looked up to see Pandor walk into the room, the automatic door closing soundlessly behind her. Her SOLtis body was polished and elegant, face and hair metallic, but even like that, the few emotions were easy to read from her expression. “I am glad you returned safely.”

“Of course.” He had long stopped questioning why Pandor decided to stay with the Knights of Hanoi. She seemed to be most satisfied when guarding the network just like them, and helping the team out with any task she could. Honestly, Ryoken expected her to flee to the network and try to discover the world for herself, but that never happened. Just a day after Fujiki Yusaku had disappeared, she walked up to him, and declared her wish to stay. Who was he to prohibit that? “How is the progress on the defense system of the new upper area?”

“It is going according to schedule.” She walked up to his desk and stopped on its other side, in front of him. Her posture was stiff, lacking any personality, but her voice was calm and soothing. “However, there were some stray, fractured codes recorded in the area.” His eyebrows pinched into a frown. He wondered if it had anything to do with the fragments he was researching. The upper area was furthers from the old Link Vrains’ source code, and stored on separate servers for reducing any possible strain on the network, so the chance was low, but Ryoken wouldn’t be surprised by anything now. “I have already uploaded my report, if you would like to verify it.”

“I will. Good job.”

After a bow, Pandor walked up to the spherical map to continue the active monitoring for the night. Kyoko stood from her chair with a sigh.

“Done and uploaded.” She said quietly, which Ryoken acknowledged with a nod and a soft hum. Her smile was soft and full of adoration when she looked at him, and he knew he will never deserve the care and attention he is getting from his Knights. “It is getting late. You should head to sleep as well, Ryoken-sama.” He checked the time on the corner of his screen, and numbly noted it was only a quarter to midnight still. “You have a meeting with CEO Zaizen tomorrow, won’t you?”

“And the current stock holders, yes.” He added with not a small amount of rigor, although he tried his best to school his expression into something neutral. “I still have something to do before I can sleep.”

Kyoko’s smile grew solemn at the edges, and her expression was nothing less than that of an older sister’s. Ryoken could still remember the time she and Asou kept him occupied and afloat in his life. Without the two of them, Genome, and later Spectre around, who knows where he would be today.

“Ryoken-sama,” Judging by her tone, a scolding was coming that Ryoken was not ready to hear right now. “You need rest. You have been working on codes and patrolling Link Vrains endlessly, and you seem especially weary right now.”

His fingers hovered above the keyboard as he stared intently at his screen even though he was not seeing the code running through it right now. There was an echo in the back of his mind, clear as if a recording was playing it back to haunt him.

‘Let me go.’

“Please do not worry, Doctor Taki.” He tried to show an expression of honesty and confidence as he looked at her, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was through his throbbing head. “I will check the daily logs and then head to sleep myself. Thank you for your hard work.”

Kyoko was not at all satisfied, if her crossed arms were any indication, but she should know better than trying to order Ryoken around. Another person already tried that today, and he wanted none of that anymore.

“Alright,” she reluctantly walked up to the door, but when she looked back, Ryoken’s insides melted from the reassurance and affection he saw on her. “Good night, Ryoken-sama.”

“Good night.” The lump in his throat made it harder to press the words out.

Once only he and Pandor remained in the room, he forced his attention back to his screen, but all he could hear was a firm rejection and the voice driven by something Ryoken was unable to see.

He often imagined the situation where Playmaker would return. He imagined the duelist would contact Kusanagi Shoichi and Homura Takeru first, then probably his old schoolmates. He imagined they would meet when Playmaker already re-acquainted with the others, probably by chance because there was no other reason for them to meet, but if there were some rouge duelists wreaking havoc in the network, Playmaker would also be there to teach them a lesson, and then Ryoken would just have to wait for him to completely obliterate them, and then...

And then what? He was never able to think ahead more.

But he never imagined Playmaker would avoid all of them and flee from him without a word.

‘Let me go, Revolver.’

With his hand almost too heavy to rise, he closed his current work, not even taking a second glance at it, and switched off the screen. Pandor turned toward him, curious upon seeing the motion, and inclined her head to the side. Ryoken paid her no mind, instead he picked up his duel disk to fidget with the gem in its middle.

“Ryoken-sama, is something bothering you?”

He could pretend there was no real worry in her robotic voice, but that would make him delusional. Leaning back in his chair, he raised his chin, posture more relaxed than he felt.

“What makes you think that?” He asked back instead, avoiding the subject like a pro to instead help in Pandor’s emotional development.

“You sigh an awfully lot, and it seems you have trouble focusing.” She missed no beat in answering, body now fully turned toward him.

“That does not necessarily mean something is bothering me.” If he had to think about it, ‘being bothered’ was not the right way to put it. He was not willing to think of the expression that would fit his mood, but anything within the range from disappointed to devastated would suffice.

“Hence I would rather ask than assume wrong.”

Ryoken hummed. Being an A.I., Pandor was prone to thinking logically and not deciding on anything without first getting factual proof, but even with that, she was exceptionally empathic compared to the common artificial intelligence. He felt the tiniest of pride when he saw Pandor learn something new about human feelings, and then acting according to that new knowledge.

“Sometimes, even when bothered, people are not willing to share their feelings.” The weakness behind his voice was hurting his ears, but it was not audible for Pandor.

“I see. It means you do not want to talk about it.” She deduced.

“There is nothing to talk about,” he said instead, although Pandor’s words were closer to the truth. He stood up, but seeing the hesitance as Pandor raised a hand in front of her torso unconsciously made him tilt his head to the side.

“Is something bothering you then?”

It took a few seconds for her to gather the correct words, full red eyes squinting into the smallest of frowns.

“I detected a malfunction in this body.” That made Ryoken more alarmed than it should. “I included it in my report.”

Without a second thought, he switched the screen back on and pulled up the Hanoi’s daily log to read the relevant parts from Pandor’s file. His fingers flew on the touch screen, and the paragraph he found was awfully brief compared to the rest.

“Lag around the core settings caused by unidentified issue.” He echoed the words, glaring at them as if that could make the problem go away. “Is it a malfunction of the hardware or a problem with the software?”

“Hardware,” Pandor’s voice grew quiet. “Probably.”

“Probably?” voice incredulous, he could barely believe she uttered something this vague. “Can you not pinpoint it?”

“Unfortunately.” She nodded. Although she had no body language like humans did, the way her shoulders raised in defense slightly told Ryoken she was ashamed for her lack of information on the matter. After glancing through the report a second time, he closed the console again and straightened up.

“I will mention this to Zaizen Akira tomorrow. If it is a fault in the SOLtis body, he will take care of the repairs.”

“I appreciate it.” She bowed, voice lighter in gratitude. Ryoken’s heart softened seeing her worry over her own state. It was such a human behavior that it was hard to ignore from and A.I.

“I will read the reports from my room.” He picked up a spare tablet from the corner of the desk. It would not be the first time he fell asleep on the reports – or woke up from a momentary doze to the tablet falling on his face –, so Pandor batted no eye to the declaration.

“Of course. Sleep well when you do, Ryoken-sama.”

The door opened up for him as soon as he stepped close, but he halted.

“Who is on standby tonight?” He turned back toward her, not quite willing to exit just yet.

“It is Doctor Genome. I shall wake him if I detect any urgent problems.” Pandor’s voice was as professional as always, but her smile was soft, giving her more emotions than anyone would expect from a SOLtis body.

“Wake me as well if anything comes up.”

There was hesitance, not exactly the same as on Kyoko’s face, but similar enough to make Ryoken concerned. He was not in the mood to argue with an A.I. about the hierarchy of commands, not right now. But despite worry, Pandor bowed obediently.

“As you wish, Ryoken-sama.”

With a tablet in one hand and his duel disc in the other, Ryoken returned to his room. The ship was eerily quiet this late at night, as everyone else aside from Pandor and him was usually asleep by this time. The automatic lights were on in the hallways, so even if he looked out the side windows, he would only see his reflection and not the water and the starry sky. Such a shame.

His own room, on the other hand, was dark. It was a minimalistic cabin like everything else on the ship. Only a bed, a closet and a desk was arranged around the walls, the door beside the desk led to an even smaller bathroom. No other furniture was needed, as he did not do anything here other than sleep – sometimes not even that. The only decoration was a grey bedside lamp, no pictures, no ornaments, nothing. He left those back in that cliff-top house years ago.

The light was kept off as he entered. He never installed the automatic switch in here, as he preferred the semidarkness especially with the migraines he had been having so often lately. He did switch on the small lamp on the lowest setting, giving only the necessary light to navigate around.

From here, he could see the ocean.

The gentle waves were like ink in glass, so black and reflective, strangely soothing even with their grimness. Whiffs of clouds spotted the sky, but he could see the stars peeking out from behind them on the horizon.

There was no Stardust Road to observe here tonight.

‘Let me go.’

The tablet was turned to dark mode as he sat down and opened up the Knights’ daily reports. He was ever grateful for them when they decided they would follow him and become the guardians of the network as well. So much pressure was on their shoulders that the only thing Ryoken could do was to be the leader they needed to lessen their burden, and he felt that was never enough.

Every time he read the reports, he was reminded of the hard work the Knights were doing. Spectre was patrolling Link Vrains with him, and on his offline time, he was improving the graphical interface with surprising enthusiasm. Asou was working on the firewalls, and he was the one countering the newly created viruses that show up from time to time. Taki was tasked to monitor the access points and the addresses, and backtracking any illegal and unauthorized access to the real world. Genome was watching other parts of the network directly linked to the main hub, weeding out the shadier connections, and also was the one to reconnect everything to Link Vrains after a server cleaning and scanning. Pandor was assessing the new developments and watching over the newly created parts of the network until Asou’s firewall can fully root itself into place. And aside from the specialist tasks, they were all jumping onto sudden problems that need immediate attention.

And Ryoken? He was distracted by chasing a slippery ghost, again.

“Let me go, huh?” he murmured into the semidarkness of his room as he was reading the last lines of Genome’s report.

“Who let who go?”

The ugly swear Ryoken let out as he jumped and dropped his tablet to the floor was incredibly inelegant.

“You---“

“Ah, my bad, did I startle you?” The voice coming from his duel disc let out a little embarrassed laugh while Ryoken glared daggers at it.

“Why are you contacting me again?” He did not need this person randomly showing up like this.

“There are things going on, so I have to check on you,” said the voice, like it was obvious Ryoken needed someone to check up on him.

“Being cryptic again, I see,” he nearly growled, and picked up the tablet with a little more force than necessary. Closing the reports, – the strength he pressed his finger against the touch screen was bound to make the tablet’s career short –, he pulled up one of their analyzing softwares and connected it to his duel disc. “I have no use for whatever nonsense you are about to say.”

“You really are harsh. Some things are just really hard to explain, so I don’t even know where to start.”

“You can start by explaining how you are able to call me. You leave no call log behind even right now. What’s your trick?” The tablet showed his communication line was not in use right now even though this person was clearly talking to him.

“Hm? I am calling through you.”

“...What?”

“I know it sounds weird!” That was a freaking understatement. “It’s like a, how should I say, telepathic bond?”

“There is no such thing as telepathy,” Ryoken reacted automatically, but he shivered from the sole implications of it.

“It is not telepathy, it’s just really similar. You aren’t the first person I am trying to reach here, you know, but you are the first to respond.”

Ryoken stayed quiet at that for a few moments.

“You are not making yourself easier to understand,” he remarked, deciding to put down his tablet, as it proved to be no help in his current predicament. “Everything you have said until now is hard to believe, so I do not trust any word you utter.”

“That’s fine.” A beat. “You’re in a different world right now than you were when I first called you, aren’t you? I can feel it. You’ve free access between the two worlds for some reason, and the same is true for countless humans around.”

“I was logged into Link Vrains when we first talked.”

“Link Vrains?” The stranger’s voice was so confused that Ryoken had to pause for a moment.

“You do not know what that is,” he said, an obvious deduction.

“No,” the voice admitted, but rather than ashamed, it sounded curious. “Is that what you call that other world?”

“It is not another world,” he resisted a sigh. “It is virtual reality. An illusion.”

The line grew incredibly quiet, as if the person on the other end was processing the knowledge and trying to connect the dots.

“Oh,” the voice said in the end, and Ryoken could almost see the figurative light-bulb blinking up beside them. “I never heard of that happening before. A virtual reality developing and turning into a real world... No wonder you are confused.”

Ryoken’s blood ran cold.

“What do you mean?”

“Weird things had been happening there, right? Duel monsters acting-up, maybe? That is usually how it starts.”

“Tell me, what exactly is starting then?”

“Change. The birth of a new realm.”

He could feel himself getting dizzy from everything the voice was implying. It was such stupidity, such nonsense, but he couldn’t help but feel some truth in those words. Black spots were swimming in his vision as he could feel his migraine worsening, but he willed them away. His fingers shook as he pulled out his tablet in a blind, desperate hurry to open up the data structure of that fragment he found only hours before. Something was wrong with it. Something was wrong with those corrupted, hungry creatures too, and most of all, something was wrong with his dragons, so overprotective and loving they would go berserk when Ryoken was unable to control his emotions.

The data rolling through before his eyes was familiar, but broken, incomplete; it was whiting out his vision despite the darkness of the room, and he had to put the tablet down before he would drop it again. He licked at his dry mouth. The code was like nothing else existing in human possession, and as of right now, Ryoken was the single living being able to understand this language.

“The Ignis Algorithm?”

“The what now?”

It had been flowing through Link Vrains in fragments all this time. The data material, even, was part of the Ignis’ creation, and it had been evolving without external assistance. The A.I. with free will were becoming closer and closer to the living beings, so how hard was it to believe that their own creations were becoming...

...Alive.

A world made of data is becoming real, kicking down the walls holding it back without the possibility to stop it.

Ryoken shivered at the possibility it could bring if it all developed the way he assumed it would.

“This is dangerous.”

“Yes,” the voice was surprisingly serious, which made Ryoken’s stomach drop. “But it isn’t something any of you can stop. The new world had already rooted itself, so all the humans can do is to wait and observe.”

“But it is impossible.” He muttered, to which the voice tried its best to be understanding.

“It’s not something you can change, so just accept---“

“No,” his voice was a breath, but as hard as steel. “It is impossible. The Ignis are gone, so nothing can run this Algorithm and control this change. It can not happen.”

Ryoken’s thoughts were going haywire; his heartbeat was resonating in his ears, drowning out all other sound, including the voice calling out for him. The code was holding his attention with such a vice grip that he could feel nausea creeping up on him in turn. It was suffocating him, squeezing the air from his lungs. He could see through the code, understanding every part of it without analyzing it by now. For years, he had been studying it, observing it, memorizing it. He was living his life with the Ignis Algorithm running through his mind.

There was no way his Father actually created something that was alive, something that was able to create a world.

“Hey, focus!” The stranger’s voice broke through the thrumming that settled in his mind. “Don’t lose yourself there!”

Ryoken stared at the duel disc through his clearing vision, and took a shuddering breath.

“You said that someone needs my help.” He managed to press through his teeth, and although it seemed like the voice wanted to talk about what just happened a moment ago, it answered.

“Yes, the Dark One.”

“And why does he?” Ryoken frowned, rejection playing in his ears like a broken record. “He seemed fine when I met him.”

The silence following his question was more alarming from this blabbering voice than any kind of threat it could have said.

“He is infused by Darkness. Which is fine, he is not the only one, after all. But.” The voice grew solemn. “Loneliness and sadness can make beings such as him do horrible things they will later regret.”

That was a cold knife to Ryoken’s heart.

The conversation halted and they stayed quiet for minutes afterward, Ryoken worried to talk in case his voice would break. It was the stranger who spoke up then, quiet, soft, like someone speaking to a spooked child.

“My bad. Did I say something to hurt you?”

Ryoken huffed, hearing the unneeded worry cleared his throat into something neutral.

“Nonsense.” The voice’s momentary silence felt like it did not believe him.

“Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself.” It was trying to get back its previous, by now trademark cheer, but it was obvious even he was trying to be careful now. “Then again, we met during a fight, so there was no time. You can call me J, to make things simple. What about you?”

Finally, he had a name to associate with the annoying voice and write on his mental ban list.

“Call me Revolver.”

“What kind of a name is that?”

“What kind of a name is J?”

“…Touché.” There was a huffed laugh at the other end of the line, and Ryoken could distantly hear some static, just like when their call first ended. “Okay then, Revolver. It’s late. You need sleep.”

He was getting so tired of people telling him this.

“No, I actually need to finish reading the report you so generously interrupted.”

“Wow, now you are getting sassy.” This time he heard a hearty giggle from the voice, and as strange as it was, his attitude seemed to be appreciated by the stranger. How odd. “Talk to you later.”

And then, there was nothing.

Ryoken put both his elbows on the desk, and leaned his face into his hands. Taking a shuddering breath and counting to three, he was ordering his migraine away by sheer authority.

He was not allowed to start panicking from the unknown. He had to research the current happenings of Link Vrains before control would slip out between his fingers like the inky ocean water outside his window.

o-o-O-O-o-o

Revolver should have known better than to go into a management meeting with only three hours of sleep. It was a struggle to keep up with the faces and the complaints of the stock holders, and to connect all the names to those complaints. The luckiest turn of events was that Revolver was never present on these meetings in person. Instead he was watching through the security cameras from SOL’s server, listening in due to the personal request and permit of CEO Zaizen Akira.

Despite how young the man was, Akira was a clever smooth-talker, but a sincere one at that. He was never hiding the problems SOL Technologies still struggled with, but he was trying to stay selective in how he provided information. Revolver had given Akira a summary of the Knights’ latest discoveries and tasks, and while Akira shared most of it on the meeting, he left out the part about corrupted data showing up around the publicly unreachable parts of the network. That was a smart move, especially since they still lacked proper information about those, and telling the stock holders now would have just caused unnecessary panic.

Their most stressed concern seemed to be Link Vrains’ growth, whether it was going fast enough to accommodate the growing user base and the hyperlinked network or not. Akira in turn showed them the current progress on the construction of the upper levels, which eased their minds at least until their next meeting. Pandor did a great job on that report, so Revolver made a mental note to give her extra praise for her work.

Another thing that was usually brought up by one single stock holder – her name was Sumiko, as Revolver learned quite soon into his guardian job, a middle aged woman with bright green curls of hair and an attitude that made most men ran away without shame – was the fact Akira refused to give out the list of every single person he employed, including the ones he had contracts with for outsourced work. That would include giving out the names of the Knights of Hanoi who Akira commissioned for the monitoring job, so of course, he refused that every single time. It was Revolver’s personal request not to make their contract public, as it might cause unnecessary stir and make their job harder. Akira understood that, even though he continuously told Revolver how grateful he was for their work. The only thing Akira admitted to others was that he was indeed employing skilled ex-hackers for protection purposes, but that was hardly anything new, as SOL Technologies was not the only company doing that. Yet again, Akira skillfully avoided giving into Sumiko’s request, and the meeting was finished by an evaluation that showed SOL Technologies had raised its stock value by two point six percent in the last month as well.

For the management, of course, that was the most important thing, and Revolver could feel bile in his throat at that.

He waited for the people to clear out of the room, and when only Zaizen Akira and Hanami, his personal assistant remained, their real meeting could began. Akira turned the monitor on which showed Revolver in the blackened server space, and in turn, another screen switched on at Revolver’s side with the two people in focus.

“Thank you for coming, Revolver.” Akira was as professional as always in his grey suit and golden clasps on his necktie. Hanami beside him seemed to be growing more serious with time as well, but it was strange to see nervousness ease out of her as soon as the stock holders left and Revolver showed up instead.

“Of course,” he nodded, face impassive and strict to hide every ounce of exhaustion and personal worry behind his mask.

“About that corrupted data you mentioned.” Revolver always appreciated how Akira just gets straight to the point. “What is your opinion on it?”

Revolver motioned in the air with his hand, and another screen appeared with his recordings about the corrupted data monsters that went around the old Link Vrains, devouring scrapped data around them. It didn’t only show the canine-like and the winged, grey creatures he met just yesterday, but ones he encountered before during his research as well.

“Most of these data have likeness to duel monsters, so they might be using the graphic remains of old duels as a base structure. But aside from that, their code is faulty and impossible to read by most scanners without infecting the software itself.” He was experimenting with that enough, and had to rewrite the program five times before he managed to make one that can bypass the actual virus these creatures created.

“Are they a threat to users?”

“Yes,” Revolver said, as that was never a debate. “It is yet unknown what their effect on users would be as I have avoided being infected, but considering the current state of Link Vrains, it is certain that whatever wound they cause would be carried over to the real life and mentally damage the users.”

“I see.” Akira laced his fingers together on his desk, face grim, eyebrows knitted into a frown.

“I have provided my Knights with the necessary information, and they are trying to write a program to quarantine these corrupted data creatures,” Revolver provided, but that was hardly a comfort for a CEO such as Akira. “However, we still do not know enough of them, so I will continue my research as well.”

“Be careful.” Akira’s eyes snapped up to him, which made him blink. “I do not want anyone to be harmed by these things.”

Revolver nodded in understanding, although at the same time he was more than ready to be the sacrifice if needed.

“I will make sure of that.” A pause. “I also have a minor concern to discuss about Pandor’s state. I included it in my report.”

“Yes, I have read it,” Akira replied with a sigh. “And you are not the only one. People who have the first series’ SOLtis have been notifying us of the same problem, although they do not want to file an official complaint until the reported problem causes the SOLtis to actually malfunction.”

“Was it a production error then?” Revolver asked bluntly, to which Akira pressed his mouth into a line.

“We are currently examining it, but as of now, we have yet to find the cause for the core lag.”

“I see.” Revolver was disappointed by this unknown factor coming up without results. “Thank you for your time.”

“I will do whatever I can, I promise.” Akira’s small smile made Revolver suspicious that his worry about Pandor might be seeping through his carefully placed mask. “Also,” Revolver’s shoulders instantly stiffened, because he knew what question was coming, because it was a habit by now, a pattern that always came up at the end of their meetings, “do you have any news on Playmaker’s whereabouts?”

He stayed quiet for a few moments, but only Hanami seemed to find his silence odd, judging by her raised eyebrows. He blamed his tired mind for the constricting of his throat and the lead in his chest.

“No, I do not.” He hated how much even the name itself affected him by now.

“I see,” Akira nodded, not showing any signs of noticing Revolver’s discomfort. “Until next time, then.”

Revolver nodded, then turned around and logged out before his mask could slip any further.

o-o-O-O-o-o

As soon as he took a shower to refresh himself and gather his thoughts, he called all his Knights into the command room. Asou, Kyoko and Genome were already there, while Spectre and Pandor arrived right as they finished up their morning routine in Link Vrains.

Ryoken leaned his back against his desk, staring at the monitor behind the map of Link Vrains, currently showing his latest encounter with the corrupted monsters.

“What did Zaizen say, Ryoken-sama?” Asou asked, switching his attention between him and the screen, like all his Knights.

“Not much, considering how little information we have,” Ryoken sighed, hands resting on the table beside his hips. “He raised concern about what effect the creatures might have on users, though we can only assume the worst so far.”

“Heavy trauma and injuries caused problems even before,” Kyoko furrowed her brows in concern, “but now, the users’ connection to Link Vrains is growing stronger on a neurotic level. Whatever effect these creatures might have, it will be too dangerous to let them reach the upper levels.”

“We can all agree to that,” Asou added. “So far, we don’t have enough data to code any countermeasures. Cutting off the old Link Vrains might be the quickest solution right now.”

“We can not do that,” Ryoken replied immediately, not leaving any place to argue. “The old Link Vrains is still providing the base for the source code, which is impossible to remove without needing to build the network up from scratch again.”

The room grew quiet then, his Knights dutifully trying to think up possible solutions to the problem.

“Maybe if we could capture one of these Corruptors, it might be easier to analyze them.” It was Genome who spoke up after the silence was getting uncomfortable.

“Corruptors?” Spectre raised a curled eyebrow at him, to which Genome only shrugged.

“We have to give them a name to make them easier to identify.”

“That will do,” Ryoken nodded, both to the name and to the suggestion itself. “I have an idea on how to do that.”

He reached behind him on the desk, and placed his unclasped duel disc on the scan surface. The monitor switched from showing the Corruptors to the running code he had been staring at before he went to sleep.

“This is a fragment of data the Corruptors seem to chase after specifically,” he explained, the Knights leaning forward in interest. Spectre even took a step toward the screen, raising a hand to his chin. “I have been also searching for these, but whenever I managed to find one, the Corruptors devoured it. This is the single fragment I could secure last night.”

It was Spectre who furrowed his brows, his usual nonchalant face turning into unusual concern.

“But this is...”

Ryoken was not surprised he was the one to realize it first among everyone. After all, he was one of the Victims.

“Yes. It is a broken version of the Ignis Algorithm.”

A shocked murmur ran through the command room upon his declaration.

“How could that be?”

“Is that true?”

“But the Ignis are...”

“Yes,” Ryoken’s voice almost thundered with authority, and quieted the others down. Only Spectre and Pandor stayed silent. “The Ignis are no more, and yet, these fragments remain. They are not perfect and not completed, but the Corruptors have their eyes set on these. As soon as I secured this one, they actively chased after me in large numbers.”

Passionate protectiveness made Kyoko stand up, her chair screeching as it was pushed back.

“Ryoken-sama! You didn’t tell us!”

“I took no injuries.” His eyes bore into Kyoko’s, hard as steel, hoping she would understand he wished not to talk further about that matter. She looked away after accepting he was unwilling to admit the dangers of his individual research. “And it was a valuable experience in knowing what the Corruptors were after, and why they are still in the old Link Vrains instead of venturing further up toward the users. These data fragments containing the Ignis Algorithm are scattered there, and nowhere else. Unless these, for any reason, come to the surface, the Corruptors will remain there as well.”

“Ryoken-sama.” Spectre spoke up again. “Do you think the program containing this fragment can also trap the Corruptors?”

“I will have to test that. We do not know exactly how they are structured, so there is a chance they break out from a code such as this. However, surprisingly, they are fragile, so trapping them without destroying their code might be the complicated part.”

Everyone was quietly gathering their thoughts, and Ryoken used that time to close his eyes against the lights that threatened to worsen his headache. Currently, he really hated his past self for only giving him three hours of sleep, but with the knowledge J had given him, and the realization on what exactly this data fragment was, he couldn’t calm himself enough to stay in his bed and actually fall asleep sooner than three in the morning. There was also the thing about...

‘Let me go, Revolver.’

...Playmaker.

“There is another thing I want to discuss,” he said once he was sure no weakness would seep through his voice. The Knights all looked at him curiously, but Ryoken turned to Kyoko specifically. “Doctor Taki, please open a call to Kusanagi Shoichi.”

Confusion was apparent on her face, but she sat back down at her console and typed away, opening a voice call and sending it to the main monitor’s speakers. After four rings that resonated through Ryoken’s brain like a chainsaw in the forest, the line was picked up.

“Kusanagi speaking.”

“Kusanagi Shoichi. This is Revolver.” He could hear the stunned silence from the other end of the line. He could not blame the man for being surprised. After all, Ryoken barely, if ever called him in the last six months, and even then, it was to confirm Fujiki Yusaku was nowhere to be found. “I have something to tell you. Are you free right now?”

“There are no customers around, so sure, I guess. Go ahead and talk.” The unwelcoming, slightly harsh tone didn’t escape his attention. It was something Ryoken expected from the man. Even if he got Jin back, there were things people couldn’t forgive so easily.

“I have discovered something that concerns you too.” He started, careful yet, taking a deep breath to blurt out what he had been digesting for hours now. “I met Playmaker yesterday.”

Chapter Text

Kusanagi Shoichi’s van felt much smaller than his own cabin back on their cruiser, and that was saying something. There was just enough space between the console, monitors and the counter to have one row of chairs and one person stand behind them, which was not nearly enough for Ryoken’s taste, especially since there were too many people present already.

Ryoken and Spectre were standing closer to the door not because it was the only escape route, not really, but he supposed that was certainly a plus. Kusanagi was sitting on one of the chairs, arms carefully crossed in front of his chest, face schooled to a strict calmness, but there was a bit of a shiver in his fingers that made it obvious he was barely keeping himself in check. Homura Takeru, on the other hand, was much more open about his emotions; he stood just a bit behind Kusanagi, shoulders shaking and face morphed into a mix of worry and fury, and Ryoken expected Takeru to push him against the door by his neck any moment now. He supposed he would deserve it. It was a surprise to see the teenager here, because last time Ryoken checked – which was precisely yesterday after their call – Homura Takeru was still back at his home town.

“So,” it was Kusanagi who spoke up, voice even, “you said you have met Playmaker yesterday.”

“Yes.” Ryoken’s voice was equally calm and nonchalant, even though his fight or flight instincts were already kicking in.

“Explain yourself then,” Kusanagi nearly growled. “Where is Yusaku?”

“Unfortunately, I do not know that,” he answered, closing his eyes for a short moment to free his mind of the two furious men in front of him. “We did not manage to have a conversation.”

Due to certain circumstances, Ryoken added mentally. The others were already riled up enough so it would be useless to make them even more worried, but it seemed Takeru was catching onto implications faster than he should.

“What then?” he took a step forward as he spoke up, being able to keep his temper in check for only so long. Ryoken could see Spectre angling his shoulders to the side, barely noticeably. “Is he in danger?”

“I will explain if you let me. That is why I am here, after all.”

He couldn’t fault the two for jumping at his throat just a few minutes after he showed up, but talking about this matter will be harder if they kept asking the questions even before he could brief them of the situation. Ryoken was only willing to tell them the matter concerning them, and will keep the confidential information to himself. There was no need to get them involved in complicated matters of the network, but still, there were things they had a right to know.

The two in front quietly waited, though from their furrowed brows it was obvious they had quite a few questions.

“I was in the old parts of Link Vrains when I met him.” That made Kusanagi’s eyes go wide. The man probably knew that the code was still intact, but did not expect Playmaker to access the area. “He appeared out of nowhere then disappeared again when I chased after him.” He stayed quiet for a beat, then added, “He seemed to be healthy at least.”

While their tension did not disappear, both men had exchanged their fury to something else, something that Ryoken could sympathize with, but did not dare to poke at with a stick.

“Did he say anything?” Kusanagi’s voice was hoarse as he was fighting back emotions that threatened to bubble up.

One sentence was still replaying in Ryoken’s mind, and it almost made him miss his cue to answer. He might have taken a moment too long, as Spectre glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and even Takeru had his clenched jaw slacken, as if he wanted to repeat Kusanagi’s question.

“No.” His eyes closed, afraid they would betray his easy lie. “Nothing. He turned to leave the moment he saw me.”

“What?” Takeru’s voice rose against his will. He had to clear his throat before he spoke again, much softer this time. “Why? Why would he?” Ryoken felt like he should be somewhat grateful for him for thinking that Playmaker would not run away from his presence, but instead he was just confused.

“Why would he not?” was how he countered Takeru’s question instead of answering.

Kusanagi seemed to be the one catching on to this line of thoughts.

“Do you think he is avoiding you on purpose?”

For a heartbeat, Ryoken thought about how to reply. Anything concerning Playmaker seemed to be a sensitive matter to his friends, and he slowly realized how truly important Fujiki Yusaku was to everyone he made contact with.

“I think he still has something to do before he can return. And so he does not want anyone to interfere with him right now.”

Heavy silence filled the room, the grimness made it too thick for Ryoken to even swallow. Those two weren’t faring well either, if their expressions were anything to go by. Kusanagi leaned forward digging his elbows onto his knees for support. His fingers were laced together, skin around his nails whitening. Takeru’s jaw was clenched so hard the veins were growing more and more visible. He wasn’t able to stand still, he was shifting his weight from one side to the other, shuffling his feet, clenching and unclenching his hands like a caged animal.

Ryoken would be lying if he said he didn’t understand why they were so emotional over this. After all, he also wanted Playmaker back, and the rejection he faced was a harder slap than he is willing to admit. The emotionless mask he wore was in place still, but it would take only a few more cracks to fall.

Even Spectre leaned closer to Ryoken’s space, barely noticeable, like a breath, like a leaf fluttered by the wind, but Ryoken was ever grateful for his presence.

”We have to find him.”

Takeru’s sudden outburst surprised only Kusanagi and Spectre, while Ryoken shook his head, as if his answer was ready right from the start.

“Do not do anything. Do not search for him. He was in the old Link Vrains for a reason, but that place is off-limits for the users. That includes you two as well.”

“Do you think you can keep us away?” Kusanagi narrowed his eyes, tone low and disapproving, that of an adult’s disdain to be ordered around by a teen.

“No. I am aware of your abilities, Kusanagi Shoichi.”

“Then did you expect us to not do anything after telling us this?” Takeru rose to the unissued challenge, natural fighter’s instincts kicking into gear as soon as Ryoken tried to use authority against him.

“I thought you had a right to know.” There must have been something in Ryoken’s voice that stopped the others’ argument and made them quiet down again, and even made Takeru shut his mouth with an audible clang. There was no weakness in his voice, he made sure of it, but the sheer sincerity of his words had an effect.

Takeru looked away, mouth pressed into a thin line. Kusanagi just stared at him.

“I will return to the old Link Vrains again.” Ryoken placed one hand on his hips, changing his stance to a casual one now that some of the animosity in the air had subsided. Even Spectre glanced at him for the declaration. “If I find out anything more, I will contact you again.”

“Revolver!” Takeru stepped forward. The confidence in the motion made Ryoken blink. “Let me go with you! Let me search for Yusaku with you.”

“Do not misunderstand.” He knew his next words will make even his own chest hurt. “I am not going there to search for Playmaker.” The other two stared at him with so much disapproval that it made Ryoken sick to his stomach. “But there is a chance he will show up anyway.”

Takeru’s eyes lit up at the possibility.

“Then---“

“Ryoken-sama’s work is highly confidential, and only concerns the CEO of SOL Technologies.” Spectre added with a small, cocky smile, words strict and simple.

“Zaizen?” Kusanagi breathed out the name, as if he was just reminded of what the Knights of Hanoi are doing now for a living. After a short moment, even Takeru seemed to remember, and glanced at Ryoken with conflict behind his expression.

“That’s right, you are...”

Not wanting the conversation to be derailed or dragged on too much, Ryoken turned to the side and touched the door’s handle, signaling that for him, the conversation ends here.

“As I have said, I will contact you again once I know more.” And with that, he stepped out of the van, Spectre in tow. He could still hear Kusanagi utter Fujiki Yusaku’s name as if it was a prayer, and it nearly made him dizzy.

Three months were one thing. Half a year was entirely different.

o-o-O-O-o-o

If he wasn’t in the presence of his Knights, Ryoken would be tempted to smash his head against his desk three times, then stay laying down, preferably forever.

But he still had things to do, so all he could do was to sigh, surrounded by the understanding glances from the others.

After an hour, and after all of his Knights told him it would be pointless to try and analyze the fragment further, he stopped as well. No, he did not give up. That would assume he was defeated by a mere fragment of data that the Ignis left behind, and no matter how much time he spent with his futile attempt at cracking the code, he refused to yield. He just had to find alternative options for figuring out exactly what this thing was.

The main problem seemed to be that the code in front of them was not a solid one. By the time he managed to analyze the structure, it changed itself completely and he was forced to start from scratch again. He figured there must be a pattern, and the code would return to a previous structure after a while, but it never did. He stopped bothering with it after the forty-seventh try. Yes, he counted.

“I will have to gather more of these fragments,” Ryoken declared. “We will not learn anything from this one alone.”

There was a momentary silence as the others thought about the possibilities as well. Kyoko, Asou and Genome were at their stations around the sphere network map, while Spectre and Pandor hanged behind Ryoken’s desk now that he had leaned back in his chair and stopped working.

“We do not know,” Asou started, careful, once Ryoken raised his eyes to him, “if the code will be easier or harder to analyze once we have more of it.”

“No, we do not.” He had to agree, but still. “However, in its current state, we are unable to do anything with it. And running an automatic analyzer on it is useless, because it adapts much faster than other programs.”

He tapped his finger on the tabletop three times. That was what made the Ignis Algorithm so hard to decipher, because its adaptability was incredible. Such might be the benefit of free will. Such might be the cause of Link Vrains becoming... alive.

J’s words were still haunting him from yesterday. No matter how cryptic J was, and how distrustful Ryoken was of him, his words rang true. Somehow, it made sense, and Ryoken himself could feel the change in the small differences he noticed in the network. And this code, this Ignis Algorithm might as well be a cause, or something closely related to it. He knew he won’t be able to rest until he finds out more about it.

“Ryoken-sama.” Kyoko called out to him softly, getting his attention. “At least let us prepare a new protection program. You did say the Corruptors are more aggressive when a data fragment is involved.”

He stood up fastening his duel disc around his wrist.

“I will allow it,” he nodded toward the three of them. “However, I can not wait. I will head back to the old Link Vrains right away.” He raised a hand, halting the protests from the Knights. “Also, the monitoring work takes priority. Please, do remember why we are all here.”

That stopped any of them from raising opposition to his words, and instead they stared at their screens, some somber, some more defiant. Ryoken knew they were protective of him due to their past, but he also knew that they needed this job to cope and to continue living a free life. That always took priority.

“Allow me to accompany you, Ryoken-sama.” It was Spectre who stepped to him, of course. He was the only one Ryoken always felt more lenient about, for obvious reasons, so there was no way he could say no. If Spectre’s knowing smile was any indication, he was fully aware of it too.

“That is fine.” He nodded, much to Spectre’s joy. Then, before exiting through the door, he turned to Pandor, voice just an ounce softer than when he was throwing out orders. “Switch your function logs to real-time report. I want to be notified of any malfunctions immediately.”

Pandor’s expression gave only the smallest changes – a slight widening of the eyes, chin and shoulders raised just a millimeter in surprise – but he caught it all the same. She nodded in affirmation, and by checking his duel disc, he could already see the notification about the connection.

Without another word, he stepped out of the command room and headed to their designated VR room, Spectre close behind. He tried not to pay attention to the pain the light shining through the windows caused behind his eyes, nor to how the hallways seemed to sway under his feet that slowed his steps. It was only caused by the waves around the ship, he told himself. The duel disc was pulling his arm down, an uncomfortable weight that made his skin itch under the plastic and metal coating.

“Ryoken-sama,” Spectre’s voice forced his mind to concentrate on the young man walking beside him, “are you sure you want to focus on the data fragment?”

He had to raise an eyebrow in question, watching Spectre from the corner of his eye.

“Do you have something else in mind?”

Spectre’s smile was all knowing, and it sent a chill down his spine.

“We can search for Playmaker instead.”

Ryoken stopped dead in his tracks just in front of the VR room. His hand was raised halfway to the opening panel on the wall, and only hesitated for a short moment, but he was sure Spectre could catch even that delay.

“No. We can not.” His voice was harsh, followed by the sound of the door opening. He didn’t turn around to see Spectre’s face, but judging by the silence and the lack of mockery, he must have known this wasn’t something Ryoken was willing to discuss.

Playmaker clearly wanted to do things his way, and Ryoken had to let him do just that, even if the wait was like barbed wire around his lungs.

“But be prepared,” he addressed his loyal Knight, as they settled into their chairs, “there is a chance Soulburner will appear in the area too.” He might even bring friends, he mentally added.

Spectre let out a short laugh, amusement playing in his voice.

“You don’t expect him to listen to warnings, of course.”

Ryoken nodded, as that much was obvious. Not Playmaker, nor Soulburner listened to a word he said when he warned them of danger. By now, he was able to calculate his plans according to their hotheaded and self-sacrificing nature, but it certainly didn’t make his job easier.

The room blurred as they both activated their duel disks, and entered into Link Vrains through rushing lines of codes and light.

When Revolver opened his eyes, they were on a floating island at the lowest edges of the network. The other islands flew high above them, the very top nearly out of sight. The shining neon grids and the visible flow of data material was enveloping the world up there. Looking up, Revolver was yet again reminded how the whole structure resembled an Encephalon. It might have been only him, because he heard no one talking about how the grids formed a grey matter, and the dome around the islands were like layers of a human brain.

The light was like pins and pricks in his temples, so he lowered his head to the grayer, murkier data below. They logged in where he previously exited from Link Vrains before, so he knew that the city must be more ruined. Spectre stepped up beside him, inspecting the area’s code on his duel disc.

The fact Spectre had little to no change to his avatar compared to his real life appearance always made Revolver wonder. The younger boy’s online and real self had such an undistinguishable line between them, that anyone might have thought they were the same. Even the choice in clothing, white an elegant, was essentially the same. Revolver was able to notice the nuances between the two, but only in personality. Spectre was loyal and playful in every form, but while he was quiet and agreeable in reality, a more vicious and chaotic persona emerged online. But separating the two were impossible now. For ten years, ever since he introduced himself back at the abandoned research lab that rainy night, he had been Spectre, nothing else.

He diverted his eyes back to the area below.

“Let us go.” Revolver jumped off the edge of the island falling just a few meters before summoning his D-board under him. The board whirred under his boots, and it came alive on the streams of data, sailing him down to the abandoned Link Vrains below.

The stone desert was the same, and it will be even after years, probably, as no one dared to touch this source code anymore, with the exception of the Knights. The air was heavy with dust, the buildings crumbled under the force of the wind. Revolver could see the disgusted frown that occasionally crept its way to Spectre’s face – he largely preferred the more lush and vibrant colors of the upper areas, and this place, without any trees or water, was just a cruel reminder of his time alone and abandoned.

Revolver maneuvered his D-board just a bit closer to his companion.

“We will head further toward the east.” That meant, closer to the middle. Revolver had already checked this area the day before, and although the fragments tended to show up literally anywhere the wind blew in the network, there were no salvageable parts where the Corruptors swarmed the area.

The abandoned network was eerily quiet. Nothing could be heard aside from the whistles and howls of the wind as it blew the dust across their vision. Their scanners were going, but even the Corruptors seemed to be absent. Revolver knew it was a matter of time for them to show up though, if for nothing else, they would chase him for the fragment that was still in his duel disc’s memory.

The Tower of Hanoi was growing more and more visible from the distance. After they used its scanning function once to search for the Light and Wind Ignis, the Tower was abandoned yet again, and none of them ventured near it ever since. It was in ruins, useless now that it ran its final program.

In the quiet of the desolated land, the sound of battle reached Revolver’s ears before their scanner’s beep did.

“Sounds like that is a hit” Spectre remarked with overflowing joy as explosions and flames flared behind a building. Revolver hummed in acknowledgement, as even without seeing the battle itself he just knew who they will find around the corner.

Sometimes he wished he was wrong.

The grey and orange, bright and radiant form of Soulburner flew up and above the smoke, one giant monster of fire in tow. Salamangreat Heatleo was following its master, golden claws and fiery mane radiating power that melted the oozing, grey bat-like Corruptors that followed it.

“Heat Soul!” Upon its master’s command, Heatleo turned and disintegrated another one of the bigger Corruptors, one that flew at it with the blanket wings of a manta ray. Another duelist appeared behind Soulburner, one with an elegant dress, flowing aqua hair and the determination of a tsunami.

“Blue Maiden! Behind you!” Soulburner shouted at the girl, who ordered Marincess Marbled Rock to slice up the incoming Corruptors that wanted to latch themselves onto her D-board.

“Oh, he brought a friend!” Spectre’s eyes glinted with unmasked glee upon seeing Blue Maiden obliterate the monsters, but Revolver didn’t share his sentiment. The Corruptors were closing in on the two Duelists. There were more, much more of them than the day before, and he had to wonder what the reason for it might be. On their way here, they haven’t seen any of them, but here the Corruptors were swarming like a gray, angry mass with Soulburner and Blue Maiden in the middle.

There was a time when he punished idiocy with deletion, but it was everyone’s luck he changed.

“Spectre”, his loyal Knight knew his wishes even from one word, and then Spectre was moving, summoning Sunvine Thrasher as he went, an elf warrior clad in leaves and wielding a spiked scimitar. It raised its sword, and beheaded a long-necked Corruptor that aimed its beak right at the gem centered on Soulburner’s chest. Blue Maiden turned toward them, expression a weird mix of horrification and shock. Soulburner managed to mumble an embarrassed “thank you”, but it was drowned out by the noise of the battle.

Willing his headache away to the back of his mind where not even his most loyal followers would spot it, Revolver raised his right hand and concentrated. He imagined a giant metallic body shining in reds and blacks, horns and claws polished to perfection, and wings that burned with hardened plasma. The gridlines on his avatar glowed when the card in front of his palm burst and gave form to the majestic Borreload Dragon. The monster floated above him, and upon a flick of his hand, it opened its maw and fired.

The Corruptors that hovered between Soulburner and Blue Maiden disintegrated to nothing, and all eyes turned toward him, even the unseeing ones of the grey, formless monsters.

Soulburner had the audacity to look guilty, but the Corruptors charged again before any exchange could happen. All attention was on Revolver as he pulled his D-board back, gaining some distance between himself and the other duelists as the monsters’ target switched to him. Their attraction to the data fragments was obvious, which made his job easier. All it took was a swipe of Borreload Dragon’s tail and another shot of plasma to delete everything in sight, and then only the soft humming of the D-boards was breaking the silence. A lone, light green data fragment emerged from one of the disintegrating monsters, and downloaded itself into his duel disc to join the other. Revolver maneuvered back to the others with the silent rage of a storm, but kept his board hovering above them. Soulburner pulled his shoulders up under his glare.

“I thought I told you not to come to this area.”

After a short moment, Soulburner tried his best to answer with his own glare, but Revolver was unaffected by the weak attempt. The fiery duelist raised his D-board to be in eye-level with him, followed by Salamangreat Heatleo, that stared at Borreload Dragon with an expression similar to its master. From the lack of verbal acknowledgement, Revolver knew his monster was as unaffected by that as he himself.

“You couldn’t expect me to stay away!” Soulburner shouted, sparks of fire dancing around his fists. “You said Playmaker showed up in here. After months!” His voice raised in octave, before Soulburner had to physically pull himself back to reel in his emotions, struggling to keep control. “I just can’t stay put anymore!”

“You have to.” Revolver’s voice was as cold as ever. “This part of the network is no place for a user to be. It is too dangerous.”

“Then it’s even more dangerous to let Playmaker be here!” Soulburner raised a fist against the green gem shining on his chest. “He can’t fight off these monsters alone! And he shouldn’t either! He has friends here! And yet!” He grit his teeth, falling quiet.

“Are you angry with him?” Revolver raised the question that made Soulburner’s head shoot up.

“No!” A beat, and then. “Maybe. Yes, a little. But I’m worried.” He pushed the words through his teeth, holding back from raising his voice further. “We haven’t heard of him in half a year, and then he shows up here. There are these horrible monsters around, and I just can’t help but think, what if... what if he...”

Quiet, as Soulburner didn’t even dare to give voice to his thoughts. Spectre and Blue Maiden came closer to them, but kept a respectable distance upon feeling the tension. The growling of Heatleo probably didn’t help either.

It was Revolver who saw Playmaker the other day, and an ugly thought surfaced somewhere in the back of his mind, a thought that said, Soulburner had no right to be this angry, this worried, when it was Revolver who was...

‘Let me go, Revolver.’

... Rejected.

“Still.” He said, voice even, after he eased his fingers from the fist he didn’t realize he made. “This is no place for you to be. You can not help Playmaker by being here.”

“But---!“

“Revolver.” Blue Maiden’s voice was a calm torrent of water, powerful even when undisturbed. The charisma duelist was shining through even when Zaizen Aoi was no longer wearing the avatar of Blue Angel. He acknowledged the female duelist with a glance and a turn of his head. “What were these monsters? We haven’t seen anything like them before.”

He wondered if there was a point in not telling them anymore. They were formidable duelists, and once on the same team as him against the enemies of humanity. But that was in the past, and Revolver would have preferred if both Soulburner and Blue Maiden were living their normal life instead of worrying about threats in the network.

His silence was recognized by Blue Maiden, and she was about to talk again, either to ask more questions or reprimand him for keeping company secrets, but he cut her off.

“They are corrupted data taking the form of monsters. It is enough if you know that much.”

“Corrupted data?” She echoed. “But aren’t they dangerous for the users, then? They are hostile!”

“They only show up here, and this area is inaccessible for the users. Unless they have a master code, or they hack their way in, of course.” He knew these two had to use either of the options, and he had a guess which one was more likely. Blue Maiden would get in trouble either way, but she was defiantly standing his gaze.

“Are you going to report this to my brother?”

“I have no obligation to do that,” he answered, honestly, but, “however, we need to log illegal activities.” Revolver knew Blue Maiden was aware what he meant by that. “Both of you should leave this area and log out before the monsters show up again.”

“We can take care of ourselves.” Her defiance was seeping into her tone, but it only earned a snicker from Spectre, who was hovering somewhere behind her.

“Yes, we have seen that.” He mentioned with a tone that he wasn’t quite impressed with the way the two duelists fought before they arrived. The glare Blue Maiden shot at him could have burned down trees, Revolver was sure of it.

“We’re not leaving.”

Soulburner’s statement was like a growl, and made all three pairs of eyes turn toward him.

“We’re not leaving until we find Playmaker,“ he added.

Revolver raised his chin, just barely, like every time he was disobeyed.

“He might not show up today.” Even Revolver knew that was a lie, but it was still a reason to undermine Soulburner’s logic. The fiery duelist glared at him, eyes like two pools of molten iron.

“I don’t care!” he leaned forward as he was shouting, much like a wild animal ready to pounce. “I can’t leave him alone after what happened!”

“Soulburner—“

“No! Shut up!” Revolver’s voice did nothing in calming down the duelist. Soulburner swiped his fist to the side, flames bursting on it with the rhythm of his shout. “You don’t even care!”

Borreload Dragon’s roar resonated through their bones as it was towering above the shouting duelist from behind its master. It startled Soulburner, Blue Maiden, and even Spectre, all three backed away from the warm breath the dragon let out. Heatleo growled in response, but didn’t attack.

For a moment, Revolver saw white, but then his sight cleared and he turned away from the duelists to place his palm on the arm of Borreload Dragon, feeling the warmed metal through his gloves. It calmed the monster to backing away, and finally it stopped its growling as well.

Revolver could feel his headache spiking from the sudden feel of anger that rushed through him, and the terrifying quiet didn’t help, for a change. By the time he turned around, Soulburner’s expression softened considerably, confusion taking the place of rage.

“Do whatever you want.”

Revolver decided to do exactly that as well.

He ascended, flying higher while checking the scanner on his duel disk, searching for any sign of the fragments or the Corruptors.

“Spectre. We are going.” His Knight was by his side the next moment, expression calm and jovial, but a bit of uncertainty was seeping itself into his eyes.

“Are you sure, Revolver-sama?” Spectre raised the question once they turned toward the west, the humming of their D-board and the sound of their monsters flying behind them almost drowning out his voice. Both Borreload Dragon and Sunvine Thrasher were around, and the knowledge, the feeling his monster was right behind him calmed Revolver’s senses, even if only a little.

“I can not force them to leave.” He said, as if it answered Spectre’s question perfectly. His Knight hummed, glancing behind the other two duelists who, unsurprisingly, started following them from a polite distance.

“Actually, you can,” Spectre tapped the menu on his duel disc with a little smile, indicating the force-log-out option Revolver added after they decided to become the guardians of the network, “but I know what you meant.”

Forcing a log-out would mean nothing in this situation, he told himself. The goal was not to make Soulburner and Blue Maiden leave, but to have them stay away permanently, and no amount of programming would be able to do that. They would find a way to return, especially with the flaming passion Soulburner possessed. Blue Maiden’s motivation was harder to pin-point, but it was obvious she also considered Fujiki Yusaku a friend, enough to try and get him back when the chance was there. He was anticipating this outcome anyway, but still, taking responsibility for two more duelists was not helping his headache.

He glanced at Spectre just in time to see his Knight raise a hand and pinch the bridge of his nose. Even though most avatars weren’t showing fatigue, sluggish movements betrayed Spectre. He was working no less than any other of the Knights of Hanoi, and he was regularly accompanying Revolver to his patrols within Link Vrains as well. He seemed tired, and maybe even nursed a similar headache as he himself. Spectre noticed him staring, and his expression instantly melted into a reassuring smile.

“Please do not worry about it.”

That just made him worry even more. He left it at that, but he will force Spectre to take a day off once they were done here.

He idly checked the real-time report of Pandor’s status while they were on their way, mostly to drown out the hushed conversation of Soulburner and Blue Maiden behind him. When words about his strange behavior and even stranger reaction from his follower monster reached his ears, he knew he had to distract himself before accidentally pushing the force-log-out button on his screen.

Pandor’s status report indicated no problems as of now, no malfunctions in the core area like the day before. So far everything seemed normal, but nothing ever was normal anymore. The sound of Borreload Dragon’s wings started to hurt his ears too.

They met two smaller patches of Corruptors in half an hour, and all were obliterated within minutes, the data fragments they hunted gathered. Revolver let Borreload Dragon lose on the monsters, and if anyone asked, he would refuse to admit he was taking out his frustration on them. That would mean he should feel better afterward, but the way the Corruptors fell to particles from a touch of Borreload Dragon didn’t give him any form of satisfaction. The fact his monster was too fast to leave anything for Salamangreat Heatleo to dig his claws into, however, did. A little.

“These things just keep coming! What the hell!” Soulburner growled when the grey particles dispersed in the wind.

“You do not have to deal with them if you log out.” Revolver shot back, matter-of-factly, because he was getting tired of having the extra people on his team when he was already restless. He earned a glare from Soulburner, considerably softer than the ones before, but still a piercing one none the less. He liked to think that he was on okay terms with the duelist, if not best, but he had no patience for Homura Takeru’s self-centered behavior right now.

He had no patience for anything right now, and even the wind that blew dust in his face was annoying.

“Would you two cut it out already?” Blue Maiden told off both of them, which only made his annoyance of this current team grow. “Revolver, is there any way we can stop these monsters from respawning?”

“None, as of now,” was his curt reply. They had little data on the Corruptors yet, mostly because they never managed to get analyzable data on them. Their structure, being as fragile as it was, broke down from the simplest of proddings. On one hand, it made disposing of them easier. On the other, no samples could be drawn from them to run an analysis on.

It was just one annoyance on top of all others.

“But you do know what they are after, right?” She continued with her questions, and even Soulburner seemed to look up at that. Blue Maiden was smart, and knew Revolver was purposefully holding back information for their sake. “It seems you and Spectre know where most of these monsters are, or where they’re headed.”

Withholding all the information they have gathered would lessen the survivability of this team, he reasoned with himself. Maybe if they also knew the habits of the Corruptors, they will be more effective in confronting them.

“Indeed.” He didn’t stop his D-board as he answered Blue Maiden’s inquiry. “They are after data fragments scattered here in the old Link Vrains.”

“Data fragments?” She echoed somewhere behind him.

“Some time ago,” Spectre took to continuing the explanation, “our scanners noticed stray data in the areas that are inaccessible to the user base. Apparently, this data also attracts the monsters. Ironically enough, it might be the reason why the monsters haven’t ventured into the upper areas for now.”

Blue Maiden frowned, worry and curiosity mixing into her voice.

“What is so special about the data to attract monsters?”

When Spectre didn’t answer, leaving the revelation of important details to his leader, Revolver continued.

“These fragments run the Ignis Algorithm.”

His words were followed by surprised gasps and momentary silence before Soulburner and Blue Maiden started talking over each other.

“Wait. How?! Then. That means---!”

“No.” One word from him shut them both up. “It is not part of any of the six Ignis.”

Another silence followed, and though Revolver didn’t see their faces, he could guess their expression. Anyone would be disappointed or even angry after such a sure declaration. These two were no exceptions.

“And what if you are mistaken?” Blue Maiden glared at Revolver’s back, which made him turn around.

His voice had no lingering doubt.

“I am not. The Ignis were deleted, and these fragments belong to none of them.”

“Hey.” Soulburner spoke up. “I’m no expert when it comes to this tech stuff but... how is their Algorithm in use then? Wasn’t it, you know, specifically their thing?”

“That is what we have to figure out.” He focused on the road ahead of them again, and the new group of Corruptors they will have to rush their way through to reach one of the nearby fragments. Maybe seeing it with their own eyes will make Soulburner and Blue Maiden accept reality more than his own words.

In front of them, the remains of the city seemed to be in better condition that the ruins they saw before. One skyscraper was only missing half of its stories, and another building still had its roof and most of its walls intact. They trapped a park area between them, and then the group circled the skyscraper, they were met with a swarm of Corruptors, explosions... and Playmaker.

Revolver ordered Borreload Dragon to attack even before the three others had a chance to properly take in the sight. The Dragon rushed ahead, and its tailwind already disintegrated three Corruptors that noticed them coming. By the time he heard Soulburner shout for his long lost friend from behind him, Revolver already knew something was not right.

Playmaker, in all his graceful glory, was at the other end of the swarm, maneuvering his D-board around them with ease to avoid their claws and fangs. He was diving then flying high again to dodge attacks, doing flips and tricks in the air to keep the Corruptors on their toes. He didn’t even stop when he noticed Borreload Dragon swiping monsters with its tail into nothing, as he had no time to linger in one place for long. Revolver maneuvered himself above a dead tree to take in the battlefield while Salamangreat Heatleo cleared out the shadows of the skyscraper. Marincess Marbled Rock and Sunvine Thrasher slashed at particularly big, snake-like Corruptors that slithered themselves into huge knots. In the middle of it all, was a single orb of shining green data and Playmaker. Soulburner and Blue Maiden were both shouting toward the duelist, calling his name to get his attention, but any lapse of concentration would cause a mistake that he obviously had no room to make. One single slip would let the Corruptors reach him. Revolver could feel a lump in his throat as he saw an eagle monster swipe its claws too close to Playmaker’s abdomen when Soulburner called his name. Playmaker was more than aware they were here, and their presence was a distraction.

Revolver concluded a few things just from seeing the scene.

One. Judging from the way Playmaker was aiming his D-board, he was targeting the fragment that floated around the middle of the park.

Two. The Corruptors seemed to specifically go after Playmaker despite having a fragment in their close proximity. That meant Playmaker must be holding an amount of fragments in his duel disc, just like Revolver did.

Three. Playmaker didn’t summon any monsters to protect himself.

All of these were concerning discoveries, but Revolver had a single priority right now.

He aimed his D-board, down toward the swarm, and toward the data fragment just in time with Playmaker’s dive. When he was close enough, one Corruptor changed direction and switched its target from Playmaker to him. He pushed the back of his D-board down to aim toward the sky again, turning to his right and skillfully avoiding the few monsters that came after him. From the corner of his eye, he could see Playmaker doing the same, and their eyes locked.

They were in synch as the Corruptors divided their attention between the two of them. Half of the swarm was now going after Revolver and his fragments, which made avoiding them much easier while the four duel monsters eradicated the swarm, slowly, but surely.

When Marincess Marbled Rock sliced one of the last remaining grey canines in half, Playmaker dove for the fragment, but Revolver was faster. He crossed Playmaker’s path just before the duelist reached the green orb, which made him pull to the side and jump off his D-board to land on the dusty pavement of the park. Revolver landed on a patch of dead grass and grabbed for the fragment, which floated gently above his palm as he held it up, its tiny particles swirling around in steady waves.

“Is this what you want?” Turning toward Playmaker, his voice gained more of an edge upon seeing the pair of green eyes switch from him to the fragment, and back again. Playmaker looked like a black panther, ready to pounce on its target at any moment, but Revolver was ready to meet him halfway if needed.

His migraine was getting the better of him, and he could already see patches of white in his vision. He willed them away with pure irritation. Borreload Dragon floated above him, silent as the calm before a storm.

“Playmaker!” It was Soulburner who next jumped on the ground and ran toward his friend, past Revolver, only to stop dead in his track when Playmaker took a cautious step back. His expression was unreadable as he stared at the fiery duelist. Soulburner swallowed hard, worry creeping into his voice. “Playmaker?”

This black panther did not want to give itself up so easily. Playmaker was yet again shifting his sight between Revolver and the others, calculating his odds of escape and gaining the fragment in the process. Revolver knew it was pointless, and he wasn’t the only one.

“Playmaker, I am so glad to see you!” Soulburner didn’t stop, and took another step toward Playmaker only for the other duelist to back away again. “Are you injured? What happened?”

Instead of answering, Playmaker stepped to the side to be more in the line of Revolver’s sight to keep an eye on the fragment, ignoring Soulburner’s words completely.

“Revolver.”

That voice, calling his avatar’s name shouldn’t feel like an iron grip around his chest, but yet, here he was.

“Give that to me.”

So his conclusion was right. Playmaker wanted the data fragment to himself as well.

He raised his chin and walked toward the duelist. When Playmaker didn’t step away from his approach, he could hear Soulburner breathe the duelist’s name in confusion. Playmaker clearly focused on a set goal, and didn’t let anything distract him from it, not broken monsters, not former friends, and not a rival.

However, Revolver had no intention of giving up the fragment.

“You have been gathering these,” he said, stopping some distance away from Playmaker when only the duelist remained in his line of sight, and no one else. “That is why the monsters were attacking you.”

Playmaker’s expression didn’t change, but that poker face was more than enough for an answer. Even when they first met the day before, Playmaker was chased by the huge Corruptor around the ruins. He must have been gathering these, but Revolver had no idea how long he was at it.

Borreload Dragon behind him raised his head, and the quiet scraping of metal on metal spiked his headache enough to trap his next question in his throat. Even his breath stopped for a moment, and his vision started to blur.

“What are you doing, Playmaker?” Soulburner asked, louder now, voice hitched, desperate to be noticed by the other duelist. Playmaker looked toward him, cautious and careful. An unfamiliar tension was settling around them, and Soulburner had to ball his hands into fists to stop himself from acting upon emotions. “You’ve been gone for so long, we were worried.”

Only silence was his answer. Playmaker’s shoulders were raised, tension pulling his muscles so tightly he was ready to snap at any moment. Revolver could see the slightest of shaking in his fingers, but whether it was due to stress, fear, uncertainty, or anything else, he couldn’t determine. Not through the fog settling into his mind.

Blue Maiden was the next to address the runaway duelist, voice like a big sister who didn’t want to scare a stray cat away.

“Something is happening, isn’t it?” Her hand was a fist in front of her chest. “And you are fighting alone, aren’t you?”

Silence yet again. Playmaker seemed to be debating whether to answer them or not, and Revolver felt he could relate. Something in the duelist’s expression was telling him he wasn’t willing to share information with them out of concern, but shaking off Soulburner and Blue Maiden would be harder without telling them something. However, Playmaker refused to budge.

But Soulburner’s patience was thinner than a piece of paper.

“Tell us what’s going on! Are you being chased? Threatened? What?!”

With a flick of his wrist, Revolver downloaded the data fragment into his duel disc. The green particles disappeared from sight, which made Playmaker react, at least; he raised a hand and opened his mouth, but the protest died in his throat. Revolver almost felt cruel to do this without a warning, but Playmaker was not willing to answer, so he was not willing to negotiate.

“I will be holding onto it, with the rest of the fragments I have gathered.” Playmaker raised his head at that, realization dawning on him. Until now, he must have been unaware Revolver was also picking up fragments to analyze them. If the frown that appeared on Playmaker’s face was any indication, they might be turning into enemies yet again.

The silent contempt aimed at him was somewhat nostalgic. It reminded him of the days when they first met on the battlefield of Link Vrains, Playmaker fueled by revenge, and Revolver donning a mask to hide his sins. Back then, both of them were able to do anything to reach their goals, no matter the cost, no matter the consequences. Back then, they were lost, desperate, and hopeless.

With the headache lessening his focus, Revolver saw no difference now either.

Borreload Dragon raised his maw toward the sky and roared, loud and deep and powerful, and the sheer force of it turned his headache for the worse. His legs weekend and he fell on a knee; his heaving breath was drowned out by the growl of his own monster, and something else that forced everyone on the ground.

A shriek, desperate and pained resonated through the ruins. It came with a gust of wind, and vibrated through the air itself, they felt it in their very bones. Revolver’s mind blacked out for a second, but when he came to, the shriek turned into words, the words into sentences, and suddenly he was able to make out what the wind carried their way.

“…bac...”

“...iv... ack...”

“...ive...it...”

“...give... bac...”

“Give... it back...“

“Give it back!”

It was one sentence, one desperate plea repeated again and again and again until Revolver’s head felt like it was splitting in half with every syllable. He pushed on his mask, holding his temple but the throbbing was getting worse by the moment and he was sure it would end with him fainting right then and there if it didn’t just stop.

“Revolver!”

Something quiet was calling him from a mile away, and even through the haze he knew the voice belonged to none of the people he was with because it would be impossible to hear them through the pleading shriek of the wind.

“Give it back!”

 “Give it back!”

 “Revolver!”

The voice came from his duel disc, and the only reason he was able to hear it was that he was holding up his left arm to push at the edge of his mask.

“Give it back!”

 “Revolver, can you hear me?”

“Give it back!”

“---J?”

“Oh thank heavens there you are!” The distorted voice coming from his duel disc was too quiet to properly hear under the barrage of the other voice, even though it was obvious J was shouting from the other end.

“Give it back!”

“Listen, you have to concentrate.” The voice was hurried, urgent, as if he wouldn’t have enough time to explain himself.

“Give it back!”

“You have to drown out this voice! Whatever it is, you have to resist it!”

 “Give it back!” the wind repeated, like a mantra on the wind, plea turning into a demand with every iteration until Revolver was sure it would force them to give it everything they have only to obey its command.

“Focus on something that’s not the voice! You can’t give in to it!”

“Something...” Even breathing felt like too much of a struggle, his neck was cramping under the strain the pain was putting on him, and his ears were ringing from the overstimulation. It was easier to say it, he thought, even his thoughts didn’t feel like his own anymore, but as he looked up, he could see the kneeling figure of Playmaker in front of him, slender fingers clutching his head, pulling locks of fiery hair, mouth open in a silent shout.

Revolver’s vision cleared, and through his clogging throat, he found his voice.

“Stop it.” Quietly he uttered the words, and the world fell into a momentary silence.

The wind stopped, as suddenly as it came.

He could hear a relieved sigh from his duel disc, but nothing else.

Playmaker in front of him stared at the ground, eyes wide in confusion. Small pants left his mouth as he looked up, dazed by the pain that rushed through him. It took Revolver all his willpower, but he tore his gaze away from the duelist to look around. The others were in a similar state, on the ground, releasing their hold on their ears to look around, unsure and scared. Blue Maiden seemed to be taking it the best of all of them, only being mildly worried, and not at all pained. Their follower monsters were not in sight.

“What the... hell happened?” Soulburner was the first to find his voice, but none of them had an answer for him.

Spectre, dizzy and disoriented, searched for Revolver’s eyes, and only seemed to calm down when he got a nod to the unasked question. Revolver was alright, and this knowledge immediately put his Knight at ease, despite the circumstances. Revolver was relieved to see all of them unharmed and conscious.

He turned back to Playmaker only to see the duelist staring at him. It was for a split second, but the expression he bore was so vulnerable it churned his stomach into a knot. The shine in the green eyes were almost feverish, his lips slightly parted as if he was about to ask something, but he closed them, gently but surely. The moment was gone, and his eyes were hard and cold again.

“Give it back!”

They looked up at the sky. It turned into a mass of swirling, raging datastorm, a neverending mixture of the colors of blues and purples and greens, almost too nauseating to look at, but the more he stared at it, the more he knew there was the form of a face there somewhere, impossible to recognize, but something that was supposed to be a mouth was moving with the voice the storm was carrying.

“Give it back!”

It filled Revolver with a kind of dread he haven’t felt in a long time. He pulled up the menu on his duel disc, to warn the Knights of Hanoi, and he saw Playmaker following his movements and doing the same. The way Playmaker froze upon seeing the screen, fingers hovering above his wrist told Revolver they were seeing the same thing.

The menu was fractured, glitching out at some places and filled with static at others. Little to nothing was accessible on it anymore, and that little was not nearly enough for anything they wanted to do.

They were unable to log out or reach the outside at all.

Chapter Text

Playmaker was stuck with them, and as far as Revolver could tell, he wasn’t happy about it.

He seemed to realize there was no chance for him to run away without the option to log out, so he stayed near the team, but whenever Soulburner tried to approach him to talk, he ignored the duelist and stepped further away. Blue Maiden got a similar treatment. Even Spectre tried once, though his teasing at least resulted in a glare, much to the Knight’s joy.

Revolver didn’t even try. Playmaker made a decision, and if he wanted to keep his secrets, Revolver was not about to force him to work with them, no matter how much he wanted to. He focused on his duel disc instead and the little line of code he was able to reach into through the menu.

The user interface was, least to say, not user-friendly anymore. That mysterious shriek caused a big part of Link Vrains’ coding to bug out, and while they were in no immediate danger, they were unable to contact the outside, or log out at all. They were still able to customize their decks and avatars, but the Hanoi programs that were installed to overwrite the source codes were all broken. The scanner they used to search for the fragments got partially deleted as well. He couldn’t even see Pandor’s real-time function log anymore.

They were stuck here, two Knights of Hanoi, two nosy duelists, and one runaway vigilante who was unwilling to cooperate. At least Revolver’s migraine seemed to have lessened ever since that episode with the shrieking wind.

All of them heard the voice, and all of them experienced severe pain upon hearing it with the exception of Blue Maiden, who, according to her, only felt a mild discomfort. Revolver had no idea if she had heightened pain tolerance, or was somehow unaffected by the voice for some other reason, but either case, they could conclude that the voice, or rather, its owner, was dangerous.

Spectre made a quick run to the upper levels of Link Vrains to check on the user base. The other players were all in a similar situation, unable to log out or contact the outside. He didn’t hear anything about severe pain from any of them, but talk about a commanding voice was going on around them. Some of the moderators were logged in when all of these happened, and they were trying to calm the masses, but they couldn’t contact their higher-ups either.

The players were all stuck in the network, and all of them were reminded of the time when Bohman activated the Neuron Link to siphon the user’s consciousness and turn them into datastorm for his goals. As of now, causalities were not reported, but with the limited connections, they couldn’t be sure of anything.

“What should we do now?” Soulburner turned toward the group.

Well, wasn’t that the question of the century, Revolver mused.

They left the park where they first heard the voice, and were now standing at a paved clearing that was probably a smaller square before the city was destroyed. Spectre was standing near Revolver, Soulburner and Blue Maiden were a few steps ahead exchanging worried glances, and Playmaker was somewhere to his left, away and lonely, a burning presence at the back of his mind that he needed to ignore.

“We will continue what we came here to do.” Revolver declared the plan for Spectre and himself. “We will gather data fragments and research the Corruptors.”

“But what about that thing? That voice?” Soulburner pointed at the sky above where streams of data were still raging.

“We have no lead on it, and that data stream gave us no further information on the voice.” Revolver pulled up the menu on his duel disc again, more out of habit. Spectre already tried to gain some data on the streams and the vision they saw, but came up blank. “Our best bet are the fragments and the monsters.”

Blue Maiden raised an eyebrow.

“Do you think they are related?”

Revolver huffed.

“It is a logical conclusion. Too many anomalies are showing up in Link Vrains at the same time for them to be unrelated. And if there is a connection, it is our duty to find it.”

Soulburner rubbed at his temple idly, movement sluggish and crampy from irritation.

“That voice,” he murmured. “It was horrible.”

“Eerie.” Blue Maiden added. “I wonder what it wanted. What was taken from it.”

The desperate plea was still a vivid echo in their minds. ‘Give it back’, the voice was saying, but who it was, or what it wanted, no one seemed to know.

Revolver noticed Playmaker raise his fingers to his chin, brows furrowed deep in thought. If he had ideas, he wasn’t willing to share. It was fair. Revolver wasn’t willing to ask either.

“Something important it cannot live without.” All eyes turned toward Spectre, who spoke while staring up at the sky. “It feels incomplete now, broken. Fractured. But it won’t stop after getting what it wants, because it will want retribution even then.”

Revolver stared at Spectre who squinted in the dusty wind and pinched the bridge of his nose, surely still having a headache. He always knew his Knight had a certain talent for seeing the motive and the deepest wishes of others, but what he heard now sounded different.

Spectre, noticing he was staring, gave him another one of those reassuring smiles that made Revolver more uneasy.

“However,” Spectre spoke up again, voice more lighthearted, “our scanners don’t work, so the search for the data fragments will be quite tedious.”

“It does not matter.” Revolver stepped to the middle of the square, and summoned his D-board. “I will search every grains of dust myself if I have to.”

The next hour was a hunt. Any groups of Corruptors they found, they destroyed. All of them fought with their aces summoned with the exception of Playmaker, who continued his evasive tactic to stay in the battle. The fact he threw himself into the mass of enemies without clear protection made Revolver more self-conscious of the orders he gave Borreload Dragon. While the battles were going on, him and Playmaker were having a race over the data fragments. This rivalry would be hilarious in any other circumstances, but as of now, with the silent treatment and the hostility, it seemed more like a race to the death.

Revolver managed to get the first few fragments they encountered, and Borreload Dragon had a big role to play in that. Playmaker automatically stayed away when the dragon ventured too close to him, which gave Revolver the chance to snag the data. But as soon as Playmaker showed some determination and dove for a fragment even when Borreload Dragon was there, he realized the dragon was careful not to harm him. Revolver lost his advantage with that revelation, and following that, they gained their loot in turns.

Blue Maiden seemed to be especially annoyed by this private race they had going on, and even tried to get a fragment for herself once just to spite them. She was unsuccessful, but it surprised both Revolver and Playmaker enough to shake them out of their private bubble for Spectre to snatch the data. It ended up with Revolver anyway, of course, but still.

Naturally, it was Soulburner who broke under the tension.

“I can’t take it anymore!” He rubbed at his temples, eyes squinting under the little light that was reaching them in these ruined areas. His headache made his mood worse. He didn’t elaborate on what exactly it was he couldn’t take, but the way he was staring toward Playmaker made it obvious to anyone present.

Playmaker stood his gaze, neutral and silent. If he didn’t know it better, Revolver would think Playmaker had gone mute.

Soulburner’s hands fell to his side. He lowered his face, so his flame-colored fringe obscured his eyes. Seeing the quiver in his lips was enough to know how upset he was becoming.

“Please.” His voice was thin, shaky, barely kept together by force of will. “Please, just, talk to me. We are friends! We worked together before. We were always a team, so there is no reason to do...” he made a helpless wave with his arm, unsure of what was even going on, “whatever you wanna do alone now, right?”

Playmaker’s reaction was barely visible, but it was there. The shine in those emerald eyes changed, and brows raised just a fraction. But the silence was growing heavy, and Soulburner wasn’t the only one waiting for an answer with intent anticipation.

“It is different.” Revolver was the voice to speak up when anyone else refused to. Soulburner and Playmaker both looked at him. One with movements slow and pleading, the other sharp and accusing. “You have already moved on, freed yourselves from shackles. He did not want any of you involved anymore, as you have a normal life to live now. Is that not right, Playmaker?”

Playmaker was staring at him, eyes wide, brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. The edge of his jaw was shivering. Revolver just read his very soul.

Even after so long, they still understood each other’s thought process so well that it made Revolver dizzy.

Even so, there must be something else deeper under the surface where no light could reach.

“But,” Soulburner’s orange eyes shone with a light that Revolver only saw during their duel, during the rain, “we are friends!” He averted his gaze, expression laced with pain. “Is it because of what happened with Ai?”

The sharp intake of air he heard from Playmaker was hard to miss. The duelist’s body froze. Revolver was sure Playmaker’s current state of mind had something to do with his last duel against the Dark Ignis, but he was not dumb enough to ask him outright.

The conversation was interrupted by another swarm of Corruptors, and Playmaker was saved from needing to answer. Revolver saw the shine in his eyes, but looked away when he felt it was too personal for him to see.

This time the monsters came after them without carrying a fragment of their own, so their fight was unfruitful.

Another hour later they decided to take a break, because even though this world was virtual, their fatigue from the battles was real. They were getting tired, body and mind, and the looming danger above them in the form of datastorms wasn’t helping their state of mind.

They chose an old card shop – according to the still intact banner, it was called Gramps’ Shop – as a temporary shelter. Its windows and door was missing, and half of its roof was caved in, but it was in a stable condition. The counter and the desks were there, but the holographic displays were not functional.

Revolver stood outside the shop, his back leaning against the wall near a window as he tirelessly typed away on the still bugged coding menu of his duel disc, this time trying to gain access to the fragments he gathered. He could at least open the code, but it was even harder to decipher now with the disturbed visuals. Even if it seemed futile, he would play around with the codes because an accidental discovery was still a discovery, and if him pushing random virtual letters would make something happen, he would already be one step ahead.

After twenty minutes he was fed up and started typing to the rhythm of the Fifth Symphony and debating whether he was going crazy already or not when Soulburner’s head appeared right next to him through the window.

“Revolver.” He called, somewhat cautious in case he was a disturbance. “You have a moment?”

“Is something the matter?” He asked back right away, not even bothering to look up from the code.

“I wanted to apologize.”

That made Revolver’s fingers halt and he chanced a leveled gaze toward the duelist.

“For shouting at you before.” Soulburner clarified, and leaned on his folded arms over the windowsill. “It wasn’t fair of me.”

“...Really.” He could barely believe he was hearing this. “There is no need to apologize.”

“Nah. I know you don’t really wanna hear it, but I want to anyway.” Soulburner’s smile was somewhat melancholic, but honest as he stared at the dusty road outside. “It wasn’t true. I know you wanted the best for us, and that you actually care.”

“I am working, Soulburner. It is my job to be here.”

“Yeah yeah, I know, it is a job, yada yada. Doesn’t matter to me.” His smile turned playful as a more jolly mood settled on him upon Revolver’s dismissal.

Revolver tried to keep his face neutral, but that never discouraged people like Soulburner. He had to turn his head forward and close his eyes to get away from this kind sincerity. His heart couldn’t take it.

“Think whatever you want.”

“I knew you would say that.” The smile in his voice was obvious. A pause, and then. “Any luck with that?”

Revolver opened his eyes to see Soulburner pointing toward his duel disc where the green particles of the data fragment were visible on the holographic screen.

“Unfortunately, no.” He put in another code just to watch the particles fly around and the screen to fall apart before rearranging itself again. Soulburner frowned at it, as if that could make it work. “The data is too fractured, and the duel disc’s input menu is too unstable to work on it. Everything is too glitched to use.”

“I dunno, won’t a glitch and another glitch um, unglitch each other?” Soulburner offered.

Revolver couldn’t resist a snort.

“That is not how it works.”

“But uh, in math, two negatives make a positive, right?”

He leveled the fiery duelist with a stare and didn’t even find that suggestion worth answering.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a no.” Soulburner leaned down to rest his chin on his arms, body bending forward. As he laid on the windowsill, he watched the dusty wind blow by from time to time. The buildings across the streets were demolished, only the base structure was seen, and behind them, the sky darkened by the datastorm was trailing endlessly. Revolver followed his sight. The voice was quiet, and the face he could see within the stream was not visible anymore.

“Do you think it is harmful for us and the others? Physically, I mean.” Soulburner mused quietly.

“Right now, no. We would have suffered some harm already if that was the case.” He didn’t count the headaches as harm, not directly associated with their connection problem, at least. “However, long-term, our bodies might deteriorate if we stay in Link Vrains for an expanded time.”

“I logged in from Kusanagi-san’s VR room,” Soulburner said after some thought. “And I think Blue Maiden is home at her apartment. But...” he turned his head to the side, and although Revolver couldn’t see into the room, he knew he was looking Playmaker’s way.

He knew what he was thinking. They all had someone around to potentially care for their bodies that fell into a coma, but they knew nothing of Playmaker’s circumstances. If he was completely alone in the real world without anyone knowing his location and checking up on him, Playmaker’s body might give up before they have a chance to return.

Revolver pushed himself away from the wall.

“I will never let it come to that,” he vowed. “I will find a way to get all of us out of here.”

“Revolver...”

He didn’t turn around to see Soulburner’s face, but judging from the voice, he must be as determined as Revolver was. The sky raged suddenly, and they both could hear the gurgling, growling sound of the Corruptors coming closer. Revolver stepped forward to check, and indeed, at the end of the road, a swarm was rapidly approaching.

“Warn the others,” was all he said to Soulburner before reaching forward, summoning a card, and with that, his trusty follower monster. Borreload Dragon appeared from gridlines and spots of light to shoot a beam at the Corruptors. The swarm split in two, but the monsters were coming, stepping over each other as particles of their mates were blown away by the wind.

The dragon was hovering above the ground, barely fitting its giant form between the buildings. It was staring at the Corruptors ahead, but when it could feel movements behind it, it glanced at the other duelists rushing outside from Gramps’ Store to the road, just like its master.

“Again?” Blue Maiden said, summoning Marincess Marbled Rock in a rush of sparkles and water bubbles. The monster took a defensive stance in front of her, shielding her from potential fast-approaching monsters.

Borreload Dragon readied its cannon again and fired another blast to get rid of as many Corruptors as possible before they reached them. Revolver’s monster had the obvious advantage of long-ranged attacks and he wasn’t about to wait for the mass to get near, not if he can get rid of them before that.

“There’s no end to them,” Spectre stepped next to him, surveying the incoming attackers. “Where do they keep coming from?”

That was a rather good question, actually. They were never able to find a source as the Corruptors seemed to appear from nowhere occasionally, as if they have just assembled from nothing on the spot. It might as well be true that random mass of data took form in them uncontrollably, but if that was true, Revolver and the others would be fighting them endlessly while they were trapped in the network. They had to have a source, but until they were able to capture and analyze one of them, they could only hazard wild guesses at their origin.

“Below!” Playmaker’s sudden shout nearly made Revolver jump.

All eyes turned to look down, where grey mud was swirling under their feet as if the ground itself was turning into a Corruptor. A pair of eyes opened up under Revolver’s heels, and something akin to teeth were growing near Spectre’s legs to swallow the duelist whole. Not even thinking through, Revolver reached out to grab Spectre’s wrist and pull just as he summoned his D-board to scramble up onto it, pulling Spectre with him, but the duelist caught on to what was happening soon and summoned his own D-board before they could ascend further up. He fell on his knees on the surface of his board panting and eyes wide.

Revolver tried to get his footing straight, but the grey mass was intent on grabbing the metal wings of his board to catch him. He only chanced a quick glance to the others way, and saw all of the duelists struggling to get out of what seemed to be a whirl of sentient running sand made of ugly, dead data. Marincess Marbled Rock slashed at the form below them, but whenever a cut appeared, new mass flowed in its stead in a never-ending stream of mud. It was gurgling up around them as if a pipe broke underground and it was spewing all its waste to the surface.

Borreload Dragon stood helplessly above them. They were right on top of the mass of enemies, and with the dragon’s size, attacking without hurting the duelists was impossible. Letting out a low growl, it instead turned back to the approaching Corruptors, and fired a beam into their army to get rid of each and every one of them if it couldn’t touch the ones trapping its master.

Spectre managed to summon Sunvine Thrasher to attack the muddy mass along with Marbled Rock, but the two monsters were unable to free any of the D-boards. Soulburner was struggling, hands grabbing onto the edge of his board in a futile attempt to shake free. He couldn’t summon his own monster for the same reason Borreload Dragon was useless in the current situation. Even Playmaker’s board was trapped, one grey clawed arm holding onto the thrusters unbothered by the scorching heat eating the digital material up.

Above them the storm raged, the wind picked up and shook their boards like leaves. Sunvine Thrasher and Marbled Rock hovered near their masters to protect them from the wind, but the menace from below was still surging up. The gurgling data was aiming at Playmaker and Revolver, but it wasn’t about to let the others go either. It wanted to devour them, with or without the data fragments.

“Spectre!” Blue Maiden called out to the duelist when a grey claw was close to hook to her shin. Spectre turned toward her as Sunvine Thrasher slashed a tendril in half. “Aim your attack here!” She tapped the side of her D-board, and upon the movement, Marbled Rock was already raising its arm to strike that same spot. Spectre caught on to her idea, and ordered Sunvine Thrasher to attack. Blue Maiden’s grip tightened as both monsters hit the side of her D-board where the Corruptor was holding it, and the collision was enough to push the board away and tear her free. The grey claws were scrambling after her, but they were unable to reach her as she flew higher.

Spinning around, blue hair flowing after her in waves, she raised her hand and ordered Marbled Rock to free Spectre from his confines, Sunvine Thrasher going along. As soon as the Plant duelist was free Blue Maiden pointed her palm toward another of her friends.

“Soulburner!” Upon her call, he grabbed onto his D-board with more ferocity. Spectre followed up on the plan, aiming a unison attack with his and Blue Maiden’s monsters to tear the fiery duelist free from his confines. Soulburner, instead of flying higher, immediately flew to Playmaker’s side where most of the grey mass was gathering. A ragged and shredded gray jawline snapped toward Playmaker’s chest, but before it could reach him, Soulburner pulled the duelist back and shielded him with his left arm.

They heard a crunch, then Soulburner’s anguished cry. Marbled Rock and Sunvine Thrasher collided with the D-boards in such a desperate rush that the two duelists almost fell off into the mass of data below.

Revolver had enough.

“Borreload Dragon!” His order was low and calm while he was seeing white. His monster was ready by his side. Only the sharp sound of metal on metal reached his ears as Borreload Dragon opened its maw, blasting at the ground and the Corruptors below. Marbled Rock pushed the boards of Playmaker and Soulburner further up and out of reach.

“Revolver-sama!”

No one else was trapped by the grey mass anymore, and that was enough for Revolver to act. His dragon followed his order, and the world burned around him. Solid metallic darkness surrounded him, the hands of Borreload Dragon, warm and heated from the fight. The light of its blast shone through the gap between its fingers, but nothing else. The Corruptors screeched under the plasma and light as they evaporated, and the claws holding Revolver’s D-board all fell into dust and poured down past the dragon’s joints.

Quiet and darkness enveloped him, and when he reached up to touch his palm to Borreload Dragon’s, the monster disappeared back into his deck. The wind quieted down and no Corruptor was in sight.

Spectre was closest to him, near a half-intact wall two buildings away, his expression stunned into horrification, teal eyes wide, face dusty and sweaty. After a shocked delay he maneuvered next to Revolver, eyes seizing him up and down, no doubt searching for any damage on his leader. Revolver raised a hand, indicating he was fine. Aside from his throbbing temples, he was out of breath, but not more than the others.

He glanced behind Spectre, and following his gaze, the knight turned around as well. Blue Maiden was staring with an expression similar to Spectre’s, but she quickly turned her gaze to a more important matter. She was crouching next to Soulburner’s body, and the sight made Revolver rush to them as well.

Soulburner was sitting on the ground, shaking from head to toe, holding his left arm away from himself as if it was an ugly pest he needed to get rid of. It was covered completely in that gray mud the Corruptors appeared as – it looked alive even now, crawling over Soulburner’s arm like snails and maggots. Revolver crouched next to them to inspect it.

The fiery duelist pressed his teeth together, but a pained whine still pushed itself out of his lungs.

“What the hell is this?” Soulburner’s voice raised from panic. “What the hell is this?!”

Revolver pulled up the menu on his duel disc in a futile attempt to run a scan on the matter that attached itself to the duelist, but due to the damaged interface he couldn’t run a program through.

Playmaker was standing by the side, body frozen into silent horror as he was staring wide-eyed at Soulburner’s arm. Revolver had an idea what was going through his mind seeing the duelist injured and in pain after protecting him with his own body.

Soulburner’s startled whimper pulled his attention back in a hurry. The duelist was squirming in his seat as the dirty, corrupted matter dug into his arm, seeped into the data of his avatar. Blue Maiden reached out instinctively to pull at the corrupted data and scratch it away by force if she had to, but Revolver stopped her.

“Do not touch it!” To his words, Soulburner pulled his arm to him and out of Blue Maiden’s reach to protect her from possible infection.

“But we have to help him!” She yelled and was ready to jump at the fiery duelist if it wasn’t for Spectre’s hand on her shoulder holding her back. She struggled, but by the time she finished her sentence, the grey mass disappeared under Soulburner’s skin without a trace.

Stressed silence fell on them that was only broken by Soulburner’s labored breathing. Revolver could feel the muscles in his neck and shoulders tense in anticipation, and he was ready to jump in case the data did something to Soulburner’s avatar that required retaliation.

But nothing happened.

Soulburner took a deep breath to calm his shaking nerves.

“Ew” he managed to say once he found his voice again, “ew that’s disgusting.”

“What do you feel?” Revolver asked, looking the duelist up and down. He still expected him to go berserk and attack them or in the worst case scenario, for the duelist to disappear in particles of data.

“Nothing much?” He seemed to be the most surprised by his own words. ”My arm hurts like hell, and I feel like I’ll throw up but” he swallowed, “that’s it.”

“Well” Spectre spoke up behind him, “that was surprisingly anti-climactic.”

Blue Maiden shoot him a disapproving glance and jerked away from his hold to turn her full attention to Soulburner instead.

“Are you sure? Didn’t it do anything to you?”

“Well, it did something...” he said more out of frustration than anything. He groaned, and lowered his head, face turning into an awful color of chalk white mixed with swamp green. “Ugh, I’m gonna throw up...”

Blue Maiden gently patted his back, soothingly whispering that he will be alright, and that he scared all of them, and that if he does anything like that again she will drown him.

With the immediate danger gone, Revolver glanced up toward Playmaker again. He remained on the same spot, in the same stance, frozen in shock. Though he was staring toward Soulburner, his eyes were glassy, as if he wasn’t seeing anything, as if he was trapped in a traumatic limbo.

Revolver stood up and stepped into his line of sight, and the movement finally roused him from whatever nightmare he was living through while awake. Grassy emeralds stared at Revolver, and any emotion Playmaker was holding back during this day burst through in that one look right into his soul. The desperation to stay away from his friends, to protect them from any possible harm that he could bring to them while being chased by unknown beasts, the fear of losing anyone else and the deep gut-wrenching sorrow that was so familiar and so, so painful all written on his face like a requiem.

Playmaker was heaving, his whole body raising with the breaths he took so quickly Revolver was worried he would hyperventilate right there. Playmaker caught on to the weakness he was showing a moment too late, and jerked his head away, turning around to run and disappear from sight. From his sight. Forever.

Revolver grabbed onto his wrist just like the day before and held tight, tighter than ever. Playmaker stopped, muscles turned into stone, so tight and rigid he might as well be made of black and green marble. A breath of silence followed.

“Let me go.” It was so quiet only Revolver heard it.

“No.”

Playmaker swallowed, took another deep breath to manage an ounce of raise in his voice.

“Let me---“

“No.” Revolver pulled his arm closer by the wrist. By now, he could feel the eyes of the others watching them but he paid attention to the being right in front of him only.

“Revolver---“

“What do you think you can achieve alone?” His voice was harsh, maybe harsher than intended, but he wanted to be cruel right now, because if that was the only way to reach Playmaker, he is willing to be a villain again. “You have no power to fight these monsters.”

“I can’t stay with you all!” Playmaker turned around, raising the hand Revolver was holding, no doubt to try and wrench his wrist free. All emotion was wiped from his face except frustration, anger for being held back from doing what he wanted. His arm was shaking from the strain, and Revolver could feel the strength with which he was pulling away, but his own grip was like iron tempered by his fury. It was awfully familiar, and yet again, he was reminded of the time when they were enemies, when Playmaker was fueled by thirst for revenge, slowly destroyed body and soul by the obsession to get back his past and make the ones responsible pay, and Revolver was eaten from the inside by the knowledge of what his actions would bring, shackled by the responsibility weighting his shoulders down. Playmaker was, yet again, an emissary, although not of revenge, but of something that would destroy him either way.

Revolver couldn’t let that happen. It all started with that one incident, and if any more of those kids had lead themselves to death, he would never forgive himself. Learning that one of them had died so awfully young was already enough.

“Do not be so naïve to think you can go against this threat alone.” He raised his voice much like he was talking to a disobedient child. “Your actions will be futile in your current state. You are nothing more than a shadow of what you once were, and like this, you will be but a fly for the Corruptors.”

Playmaker grit his teeth.

“You lot have nothing to do with this.”

“Were you declawed after you killed the Dark Ignis, Playmaker?”

The change in Playmaker’s expression was immediate. Seething, all-consuming fury burned down every other emotion, and all of it was aimed at Revolver like daggers ready to gut him. The shocked gasps of the duelists behind him were like a cold wind at the nape of his neck.

“Revolver.” Playmaker was feral, a wild rabid beast in a cage. “Don’t you dare!”

Revolver pulled the duelist close by the wrist and stood his glare, basked in the anger directed at him, and countered it with pure, undoubted sense of authority.

“If you want to rush to your doom so badly” his voice was a threat in itself, pushed through teeth, a warning only those who opposed him to the end would receive, “if you want me to let you go, you know what you have to do.” The offer made his stomach churn into a knot.

“I have to duel you.” Playmaker said.

“And win.”

“Wait!” Soulburner stammered, and stood next to the duelists who were still locked in a tense staring contest. “Cut it out you two!”

Blue Maiden joined in and spoke up from behind Soulburner.

“The Corruptors can show up any moment, we don’t have time to duel right now.”

“No.” Revolver left no room for disobedience. “We will settle it here and now. The three of you can deal with any Corruptors that show up in the meantime. Right?” Although it was said as a question, it was clear he declared an order.

Spectre bowed like the loyal knight he was.

“Of course, Revolver-sama.”

“Wait---“

“So be it, Revolver.” Playmaker finally tore his wrist free from his hold and took a half step back, raising up his left arm with his duel disc activated.

Revolver had a hard time reading his emotions. Anger was prominent and primal, but there was something else behind it all, something that he rarely, if ever saw in Playmaker’s expression, and that made it hard to pinpoint what his intentions were.

If Playmaker refused to talk, Revolver will have to see into his soul through a duel. And to rouse the duelist from behind the wall he so carefully built, he will have to do everything in his power to take down that mask.

Spectre ushered the lingering Soulburner and Blue Maiden away while Revolver and Playmaker set the stage for the duel. They remained on the dusty street between nothing but the bare remains of destroyed buildings, rocks and debris. The darkened skies and the wind that picked up and carried the dirt in unpredictable patters made the atmosphere more menacing.

“It is my turn!” Revolver declared. The five cards he started with appeared before him, and although their edges seemed to be pixilated, there were no problems with the interface and their mechanics itself. It seemed like whatever was affecting the whole of Link Vrains, it was not interfering with the cards and the duels at all.

On top of it all, his starting hand was a perfect setup to draw Playmaker and the truth he was hiding out.

“I activate the spell Quick Launch to special summon Silverrokket Dragon from my deck.” When the shining serpentine dragon appeared, he could see the smallest of reaction on Playmaker’s face upon the yet unfamiliar, new Rokket monster. “When I have a Rokket monster on the field, I can special summon Absorouter Dragon from my hand! Come!” The bulky blue-black monster appeared in a silent rush of light. “Appear! The future circuit that lights up my path!” The link circuit, just like the cards, appeared to be mostly intact, with its edges occasionally blurring. It didn’t stop him from continuing his turn. “Link Summon! Appear, link two, Dilingerous Dragon!” The monster with the 1600 attack stat settled itself into the extra monster zone on his right side. “Absorouter Dragon’s effect activates! If this card is sent to the graveyard, I add Metalrokket Dragon from my deck to my hand!”

He could hear Soulburner still talking from beside the duel field.

“Revolver, are you really serious about dueling Playmaker right now? There has to be another way!”

“Look at him, Soulburner.” He answered, never taking his eyes off of Playmaker. “He had not listened to any of you while we were trapped in Link Vrains. Do you really think there is another way?”

Playmaker in front of him remained silent, eerily and sternly, as if he was physically held back from even talking or reacting to the conversation. He was holding himself back, and Revolver will dig down to the core. He clicked at one of the cards that floated in front of him.

“I summon Autorokket Dragon from my hand. Link summon!” Autorokket Dragon flew up onto the link marker. “Appear, link one, Striker Dragon!”

The mechanical wyvern-like dragon was another new addition that Playmaker regarded with some caution. He probably wasn’t sure what exactly Revolver’s intention was with the duel either. While it was clear to everyone that the stake was to hold Playmaker back from venturing out to the network alone, Revolver was aware they knew he always had a deeper meaning to his dueling.

“Due to Striker Dragon’s effect, I add Boot Sector Launch from my deck to my hand.” The extra card appeared and then faded out as the program set it in his hand, but then he immediately activated it, setting it in the field zone. “I activate the field spell, Boot Sector Launch and special summon two Rokket monsters from my hand to the field in defense position! Come, Magnarokket and Metalrokket Dragon!” He raised his hand up toward the sky, to the still angry streams of datastorm. “Link summon!” The two newly summoned Rokket monsters settled themselves onto the link markers. “Appear, link two, Overburst Dragon!

Another mechanical wyvern appeared beside Striker Dragon, and opened its maw to roar toward the opponent. Playmaker was starting to grow more and more suspicious upon seeing the new monsters Revolver was bringing out, no doubt worried about their effects for the outcome of the duel.

He heard Soulburner loudly wonder why he didn’t summon a link four monster right away, especially since he had more than enough monsters and markers to bring out any of his Borrel monsters to dominate the field in the first turn, but Blue Maiden shushed him down.

“Appear again, the future circuit that lights up my path!” Upon his words, Soulburner on the sidelines repeated “again?!” after him. Dilingerous Dragon and Striker dragon were the ones to jump into the circuit and bring out one monster that Playmaker was at least familiar with, for sure. “Link summon! Appear, link three, Triple Burst Dragon!” The lense-eyed dragon took the place of Dilingerous Dragon in the extra monster zone.

“Overburst Dragon’s effect! I special summon a Rokket monster from the graveyard to Triple Burst Dragon’s link marker. Appear, Silverrokket Dragon!” It slithered out from under the field and hovered between Overburst Dragon’s and Triple Burst Dragon’s link markers.

“He keeps summoning monsters left and right, what the hell?!” Soulburner exclaimed, but Blue Maiden shushed him again.

“From my hand, I activate Squib Draw, and destroy Silverrokket Dragon to draw two cards! I set one card face down.”

Revolver had, for now, finished his turn, but with the cards he drew, his next turn will be a harsh ordeal for Playmaker to get through.

“I end my turn, and due to Silverrokket Dragon’s effect in the graveyard, I special summon Anesthrokket Dragon from my deck.”

He relaxed his shoulders and raised his chin.

Playmaker’s only reaction was to raise his left arm with the duel disc. The five cards in his hand were spotless, as if they were unaffected by the glitching system.

“Revolver. I never expected our next duel to be in a situation like this.”

He couldn’t relate to that more. Quite honestly, he expected them to never duel again. Playmaker always needed a reason to keep fighting, and with the Ignis gone, Revolver never intended to challenge him ever again. Chance for conflict between them was getting lower with each AI gone. It was a baseless and desperate hope that after Playmaker returned, stronger than ever, they would have a casual relationship without fights and fear for their lives. These six months, waiting for Playmaker and burying himself in work, Revolver had his own share of feelings to run away from.

“And yet, here we are.” He said, eyes locked with the other’s.

“Yes.” Playmaker agreed. ”But I can’t lose here. There is something I need to do, and I need to do that alone.” He put two fingers on his deck to pull out the top card. “I draw!”

He took only a moment to think, barely even looking at his cards before pulling one out and smashing it on his duel disc.

“I normal summon Widget Kid from my hand, then due to its effect I special summon Flame Bufferlo from hand.” Both Cyberse types appeared on the field before him, but he was watching Playmaker the whole time. There was something jerky in his movements, something unnatural, but he wasn’t sure what. “Link summon! Appear, link two, Splash Mage!” A cloaked figure twirled onto the field, holding its rod like a mace. “Flame Bufferlo’s effect! I discard a Cyberse monster from my hand to draw two cards. Splash Mage’s effect, I special summon Widget Kid from my graveyard in defense position. Then, when I have two monsters of the same type on the field, I can summon Cyberse White Hat from my hand.”

Three monsters, one of them a link two monster. Revolver knew what will happen next, but still, all he could do was to watch Playmaker draw out his cards and summon them, and after the first few moments, he was finally able to see what was wrong. Although the avatars themselves were not pixelated due to the current problem they were experiencing in Link Vrains, Playmaker’s movements left behind something like a shadow, black dust in the air that was barely visible to anyone not paying close attention like Revolver had been. And when he noticed that, he could also see Playmaker’s duel disc, the slot for his extra deck being enveloped by the same unnatural coding.

“Link Summon!” Playmaker’s voice grew deep and desperate, his expression became pained, and Revolver knew something was very, very wrong. “Appear, link three, Decode Talker!”

The world stopped for a moment and knocked the air out of all of their lungs. He could hear the three onlookers gasp when they also realized that something was amiss. After that silence came a dark storm, and Decode Talker emerged, all broken codes and glitched data, radiating a black mass of nefarious virus that flooded the battlefield and everything beyond that.

Revolver could feel his knees buckle under whatever obscure data the monster bought with him, and from the corner of his eyes, he could see the other duelists were in similar states. Air was forcibly pushed from his chest, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t take in enough to feel satisfied. Decode Talker was like a menacing observer, blurring in front of him like static, but the substance it was emanating was slowly suffocating all of them.

“Decode Ta---“ Playmaker gasped through his words, voice stuck in his throat under the pressure the monster was putting on him, a tiny cry leaving his lips as he shut his eyes tight. As much as Revolver could tell, Playmaker was taking this the hardest. Decode Talker, for whatever reason, was hurting its master.

He took a deep breath, or at least tried to, just enough to talk, and straightened his back, pointing his palm forward.

“I activate my trap card!” He was surprised how easily his voice carried over the dueling field. “Bottomless Trap Hole! If your summoned monster’s attack is 1500 or higher, it is destroyed, then banished!”

Decode Talker grunted and the black miasma covered up the field in a rush. For a moment it seemed the trap made the effect worse, but then Decode Talker was swallowed up by the giant mouth of a cave that opened under it, together with the mist clogging their airways.

When nothing else but Cyberse White Hat remained on Playmaker’s field, only the heavy breathing of the duelists could be heard. Playmaker was looking at the spot his monster disappeared at, blindly and stunned, eyes wide and temples sweating.

“What just... happened?” Blue Maiden asked, her voice weak and breathy as she was trying to catch herself.

“Was that really Decode Talker?” Soulburner offered his own question between intakes of air. “It... it was...”

Revolver remained silent. Playmaker across from him refused to look at any of them, his eyes were downcast and his brows furrowed. It was finally, finally a real emotion on him in hours, and it was, unfortunately, shame.

“Now I understand.” Revolver said toward the duelist. “You lost the ability to control your monsters. That’s why you did not summon any of them as a follower against the Corruptors.”

Playmaker raised his head, a feat that must have cost him a great deal of willpower to accomplish, and glared right into his eyes. That’s right. It was Revolver’s fault he was shamed like this. Playmaker probably wouldn’t have challenged him to a duel normally, especially knowing he can’t pull out the true power of his deck.

“Is that even possible?” Soulburner yelled toward them, and all of them thought the same thing. These monsters were just cards, summoning them were as easy as putting a piece of paper on the table, and yet, Decode Talker was infecting its surrounding in a raged fit and Borreload Dragon was protecting Revolver before with its own body without even being commanded.

Link Vrains was becoming alive.

J’s words rang true again, and Revolver resisted a shiver.

“It has been happening for six months now.” Playmaker whispered, voice like a dead leaf on the surface of water. “By now, I’m not surprised.”

“Six months” Blue Maiden echoed.

“Ever since the duel with the Dark Ignis.” Revolver clarified, and he received an angry glare as an answer.

“His name is Ai!”

“You have defeated the Dark Ignis and had been away ever since.” He continued as if Playmaker’s anger haven’t affected him at all. “But what have you accomplished with that? I can see you!” He pointed at Playmaker who was taken aback by the sudden movement. “Although it is barely visible, you are surrounded by that same black miasma that Decode Talker was emanating!”

Playmaker’s eyes widened upon hearing that, but not from the sudden realization of that truth. He was shocked that it ended up being Revolver to voice this out loud. His head lowered just a fraction.

“Of course.” He said, voice strangely melancholic. “Of course it would be you to notice that.

Revolver’s stomach did a flip from the meaning behind those words.

“But” Soulburner took a step closer to the duel field. “But what does that mean, Playmaker? That... that black thing was bad enough that I can still barely breathe.”

“Well, it is just my personal opinion but” Spectre spoke up, surprising the two duelists beside him, “it seems to be a kind of poison more than anything else.”

“Poison?!”

Revolver frowned.

“Was it a side effect of deleting the Dark Ignis?” After all, the Wind Ignis was able to leave a curse behind, so who knows what the other was able to do.

“Stop saying that.” Playmaker’s voice was calm like a moonless night. Revolver’s frown deepened, but seeing Playmaker’s state and slowly understanding what exactly might have happened with him during that night when he dueled the Dark Ignis made his voice soften in compassion.

He had a feeling the duel was too hard on Playmaker; after all, the connection between Origin and Ignis was special. Even Spectre shed a tear when the Earth Ignis was broken down to source code. “The fight against him was already too much, but actually defeating him...”

“Ai is still alive!” Playmaker said.

“...What?!”

“I can feel it!” He yelled this time, but composed himself, hiding behind the near-emotionless mask of his avatar. “He is still alive, and he is out there somewhere in the network! I know he is! After our duel, I was restless and heartbroken, I couldn’t sleep for days, but then I realized why I felt like that. He is out there, waiting for me to come to him!”

No one spoke for moments, but then Revolver had to pull Playmaker back to reality.

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

Playmaker didn’t react to that.

“Then let us help!” Soulburner stepped closer with the determination of a tamer in the presence of a rabid wild animal. “If Ai is still out there, we can search together!” The rhythm of his voice was uneven, and doubt lingered on it, but his sincerity to try his best and help Playmaker was as honest as his fire.

“No!” Playmaker turned to him, acknowledging Soulburner’s words maybe for the first time ever since they were locked into the network. “No one should go near him! It is safer if I go alone, because if any other human learns about him, he will be in danger again and the future will---“ He shut his mouth, his teeth clicking behind the sudden force. He tried to stop a landmine by staying silent again, but Revolver wouldn’t leave it at that.

“What will happen, Playmaker?”

“...You lot has nothing to do with it.”

That, again. Playmaker is withdrawing back into his shell. It might have been Revolver’s imagination, but the black poison around him was getting more visible.

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. There was a pull in his chest, especially after he noticed this dark aura that was suffocating Playmaker, after he saw Decode Talker infecting its own master. It was such a stark contrast compared to what he felt from his own monsters that it made Revolver feel an uncharacteristic unease. He was getting goosebumps, the hair on his nape stood like an alarmed beast’s. Playmaker was not himself anymore, and he knew the reason why. It was like looking into a mirror, seeing his past self.

“Playmaker” quietly, he called out. “do you want to severe all your bonds?”

“I have nothing left.” Playmaker’s declaration was followed by stunned silence. “No bonds, or life, nothing!”

Losing Ai had broken something in him, made his sight of the future darken to pitch black. Revolver had to think little about what it was, about what broke Playmaker so much that he was unable to see around himself.

Grief.

‘The Dark One needs your help. Loneliness and sadness can make beings such as him do horrible things they will later regret.’

Revolver could feel his chest tighten and breathing become harder and it had nothing to do with the miasma Decode Talker brought on them. Grief is the ultimate poison that can take away a person’s life.

A familiar gurgling sound alerted them all of their surroundings. Somewhere in the distance, the grey Corruptors were gathering again, no doubt following the commotion and the miasma Decode Talker flooded around them. The three onlookers grew restless, but Spectre immediately turned to his leader.

“Revolver-sama, rest assured we will take care of the Corruptors.”

“You guys continue the duel, we got this covered!” Blue Maiden summoned Marincess Marbled Rock before anyone else among the boys could react. Soulburner was the slowest, as he was still looking at Playmaker’s way to gauge what exactly happened with his best friend.

“It is still my turn!” Playmaker’s voice was angrier, more impetuous than any time before. Revolver turned back to the duel and waited for Playmaker to finish his turn all the while the others were getting ready for a different kind of battle. “Because Decode Talker was destroyed, I can summon Armored Bitron from my graveyard! Then I special summon Backup Secretary from my hand.” Both monsters appeared, one humanoid and one a cyborg, and the duel continued.

“Link summon! Appear, link two, Backup Supervisor!” After the two newly summoned Cyberse types flew to the link markers, an upgraded Backup Secretary appeared. “I activate the spell card Cynet Linkover! When both of us have link monsters on the field, and I have less link markers than my opponent, I can special summon a Cyberse monster from my graveyard, but it will be banished when it leaves the field. Appear, Flame Bufferlo!” Then, as soon as the monster settled, Playmaker called for the circuit again. “Link summon! Appear, link two, Honeybot! When I use Cyberse White Hat as link material, it decreases the attack of all monsters on my opponent’s side of the field by a 1000!”

Revolver could only watch as Triple Burst Dragon and Overburst Dragon slumped under the weight of their decreased attack, lowering to a mere 1400 and 800 respectively. Anesthrokket was the only one safe in defense position, as it has zero attack stat to begin with.

“When a monster is special summoned to one of my monsters’ link markers, I can special summon Sea Archiver from my hand!” Playmaker chose a merciless tactic, something that can assure him victory even without the use of his ace monsters. It was clever, he admitted that. But at the same time, it was so, so unlike him. Behind the duel field, the sound of battle reached his ears as the Corruptors and the summoned follower monsters of Spectre, Soulburner and Blue Maiden clashed.

“Battle!” Playmaker raised his hand up, his battle cry gaining an edge that was never part of his dueling before. “Honeybot attacks Tripple Burst Dragon!” The monsters clashed, and the dragon exploded into fire and smoke before disappearing into the graveyard. Revolver grunted from the drop in his life points. “Backup Supervisor’s effect! When a monster it is linked to battles, I can special summon a monster from my hand. I summon Lady Debug, and due to its effect, I can add a level three or lower monster to my hand.” As said, he pulled out a card from his deck before continuing with the battle, not even taking a moment to breathe.

“Backup Secretary attacks Overburst Dragon!” The dragon exploded under the attack and joined its mate in the graveyard. The shine in Playmaker’s eyes was obsessed, driven by a twisted desire like never before.

Revolver had to put him back in his place.

“I discard Rokket Recharger from my hand to activate its effect!” Hearing this, Playmaker stopped and stared at Revolver who dared to interfere in the middle of his battle phase. “When my link monster is destroyed, I target another link monster in my graveyard and special summon it! Come, Triple Burst Dragon!” The monster reappeared again with its prideful attack points and halted any possible attack that would come from Playmaker now. Anesthrokket had significant defense points as well, so Revolver’s life points wouldn’t suffer more in Playmaker’s turn. Maybe if he was his old self, he would still have some tricks up his sleeve, but not now. Not like this.

Playmaker squinted, and quietly raised his hand.

“I link summon Protocol Gardna with Lady Debug and Sea Archiver as materials next to Honeybot’s link, and end my turn.”

That last bit had secured two of Playmaker’s monsters so it will be harder to destroy them. Or at least, it would be hard, if not for Revolver’s specialty in getting rid of monsters in a million different ways during one turn.

“Playmaker’s dueling is different than before.” Blue Maiden said quietly from the sidelines. It was a wonder she was able to pay attention to the duel at all, but while her monster was battling on its own, she managed to spare a few glances their way. She bit her lips, staring at Playmaker and searching for the poison Revolver could so easily see seeping out of him. Soulburner, right now on his D-board in mid-air, looked like he had just watched Playmaker physically hurt himself, and no doubt he was reminded of his own grief and sadness over losing his other half, losing the Fire Ignis.

“It is your turn, Revolver.” Playmaker said, emotionless and strict, impatient to continue the duel and get his desired victory so he could be on his way to whatever demise he decided to jump headfirst into.

“My turn!” Revolver declared after a beat, and pulled the card his deck provided. “I draw!” If Playmaker wants him to continue, so be it.

“I activate another Squib Draw and destroy Anesthrokket Dragon to draw two cards! Boot Sector Launch’s effect, I summon two Rokket monsters from the graveyard to have as many monsters on the field as my opponent does. Link summon! Appear, link two, Booster Dragon!” The hammer-headed dragon rushed onto the field and pointed its optical lenses at Playmaker from across the field. “I activate Triple Burst Dragon’s effect! It destroys itself, then I can summon Overburst Dragon from my graveyard, and Shellrokket Dragon from my hand. Dilingerous Dragon’s effect activates from my graveyard! When a Rokket monster is special summoned on my side of the field, it special summons itself. Come!”

All of the mechanical dragons stood up in an orderly line like proud soldiers under his command. Revolver could feel the power resonating from their beings, and he hadn’t even brought out his aces yet. This was how it worked. He was in control, he was the one controlling his dragons. It was abnormal for a monster to turn against its master, but for whatever reason, Playmaker cared not about that.

That was just wrong, so very wrong.

“I activate the spell Trackload Relink from my hand!” The card with a mechanical tower surrounded by a glowing circle of four Rokkets appeared. “I destroy Dilingerous Dragon to summon Rokkets from the graveyard equal to its link markers. I summon Autorokket Dragon and Silverrokket Dragon!” The monsters appeared, and the slick, shining-armored Sliverrokket Dragon leaned up and above all the other soldiers on Revolver’s field, as if it already knew it will be his time to shine.

“Booster Dragon’s effect! I target a monster to have it gain 500 attack this turn. I target Silverrokket Dragon, and then its own effect activates!” The dragon roared, voice like wind chimes and violins, before it disintegrated into silvery dust and floated along the field, creating a shining link between Revolver’s and Playmaker’s duel discs. The duelist struggled against the dust to no avail; his eyes grew wide when the unknown effect poured into the slot where his ace monsters were. “It destroys itself, then I can look at your extra deck to banish one monster from it!”

Playmaker’s eyes shot toward him, still struggling as if being bound by molted iron. A screen in front of Revolver popped up, and he sucked in a breath at the sight.

The whole extra deck, all of Playmaker’s monsters were surrounded by that poison with the exception of the few link ones and link twos it still had. The Code Talkers and the Dragons were all sick, infected by something that hurt Playmaker as much as everything that had happened to him all this time. Revolver’s hunch was right. Decode Talker wasn’t the only one affected by whatever that was happening, which meant that Playmaker was in more danger that he initially thought.

He scrolled through the list of monsters to banish one of them according to the effect, even though the true purpose of Silverrokket was already done. However, his finger halted when he reached the very bottom of the page, where a single, lone card was shining with pale light up at him. It mesmerized him so much that he probably took a few extra moments to take the sight in and the possible meaning behind it, because even though he could barely believe this was happening, seeing it was enough to decide on what he had to do now. Revolver will force Playmaker to open his eyes.

“I banish Cyberse Clock Dragon from your extra deck.” He clicked on the card that was above the pale light, and closed the interface.

“What was the point?” Playmaker squinted, suspicion rising up in him as the silvery dust disappeared and their duel discs were no longer visibly connected.

“All of my actions have a reason.” Revolver answered, chin raised up. “You said you have nothing left, but you are mistaken.” He was almost interrupted as his opponent took a step closer and opened his mouth, but Revolver pointed an accusing finger his way, voice resonating from power and confidence that shut any opposition up. “Playmaker! I will make you realize you still have connections left! And that deck will prove me right! Appear, the future circuit that lights up our path!”

The link gate shone with a light that illuminated the battlefield like a lone guiding star.

“My gale that slices open the closed world!” Revolver chanted, a shiver rising through him from the strength the monsters were giving him. “Link Summon! Appear, link four, Borreload Dragon!” His ace monster, his dear follower, the majestic dragon of reds and blacks flew onto the battlefield replacing Booster Dragon and the two Rokkets, and towered over all other monsters, towered over Playmaker who didn’t even flinch from the sight of the well-known dragon that surveyed the field like a lieutenant under its great general.

“Overburst Dragon’s effect activates! I summon Magnarokket Dragon from the graveyard next to Borreload Dragon’s link!”

Playmaker must have known what was coming at him, because the frown on his face deepened into understanding.

“Battle!” Revolver wasted no time, and relentlessly assaulted Playmaker, not unlike how the other did it before. “Borreload Dragon attacks, and its effect activates! It targets Magnarokket Dragon to have it lose 500 attack defense points. Now, Magnarokket Dragon’s effect activates, and I can send one monster on the field to the graveyard!” Magnarokket flew up and turned into a bullet to slot itself into Borreload Dragon’s chest as ammunition. “I send Protocol Gardna to the graveyard!”

Borreload Dragon fired the flaming bullet, and Protocol Gardna disappeared from sight. Honeybot would have protected it from destruction, but not from the effect of Revolver’s Rokkets. And with it gone, nothing else stood in the way of complete destruction.

“Borreload Dragon attacks Honeybot!” The destruction of the monster broke off quite a chunk of Playmaker’s life points, but Revolver wasn’t about to stop at that. “Overburst Dragon attacks Backup Supervisor!”

“Are you going for mutual destruction?!” Playmaker’s shocked yell barely reached Revolver’s ears.

“I am going to make you realize your mistake! Limit burst!” Overburst Dragon flew headfirst at the Cyberse-type, and then both of them exploded into fire, and when the smoke cleared, Playmaker’s field was empty.

If Revolver chose a different tactic, he could have shaved off more of Playmaker’s life points, but right now, he wanted all of his monsters off his field. Playmaker didn’t need a distraction for what was about to happen.

Playmaker was shaking as he took in his field, void as the dust settled, and his eyes widened, breathing quickened. He let out a shout, an agonized, guttural, feral shout that was equal amounts of fury, grief and despair, and it grabbed at Revolver’s insides with such a grip that he almost threw his duel just to make it stop.

But the mixed emotions on his opponent’s face told him all he needed to know.

“I end my turn.”

The three duelists who were fighting against the Corruptors in the background all turned toward the duel again upon hearing Playmaker’s cry, but all of them, especially Soulburner, were frozen, too heartbroken to say anything.

Playmaker’s face morphed, he grit his teeth, his eyes were near closed into slits, and his brows were like a wave, sad and desperate and pained, oh so pained.

“I have... nothing left.”

Revolver’s heart skipped a beat.

“I will make you realize it” he vowed, quiet, but he knew Playmaker was able to hear him, because his head raised just slightly, listening to him, like always, but their roles were reversed, because now it was time for Revolver to reach out.

“As my turn end, I summon three Rokkets for the ones that were destroyed this turn. Come, Autorokket, Magnarokket, and Metalrokket Dragon!” The monsters settled into a line like obedient soldiers, and Playmaker’s face grew more pained upon seeing Borreload Dragon backed up by three different Rokket monsters, all perfect ammunition for whatever Playmaker could have pulled out here.

“Revolver, enough!” Soulburner stepped closer. “That’s too much!” A hand on his biceps stopped him from going forward and interfering with the duel. Blue Maiden held him back gently, and for a change, she was looking at Revolver.

“Then, if Trackload Relink is in my graveyard in the End Phase of the turn I used its effect, I have to special summon the same number of Dark Dragon Tokens to my opponent’s side of the field as many Rokkets I summoned with it.” On command, two dragonic heads with the plasmatic wings of a dragonfly appeared on Playmaker’s main monster zones, and the duelist’s face morphed into mild confusion as he tried to make out the exact reason behind Revolver’s actions.

He took a beat, and then two, to process what was happening, and then, as if in a dream, he stared at Revolver.

“It is your turn, Playmaker. Draw your card.”

Playmaker’s movements were slow and airy, as if he was floating in seawater, but after he drew his card, he stared at it with the same confused and unseeing expression.

And then it clicked for him.

“I activate Cynet Linkover’s effect from my graveyard! I banish this card, to summon one of my banished monsters that is level four or lower in defense position. Come, Sea Archiver!” The little seahorse twirled onto the field. “Cynet Linkover’s additional effect!” He raised his arm, as if in a daze, but his voice was gaining more and more color as his turn was going. “If the monster I summoned is not the same one that was banished by Cynet Linkover’s effect I negate the effects of all of my opponent’s monsters that are in the main monster zone!”

All of the Rokkets on the field were covered by a grey hue, locking away their effects until Playmaker decided to end his turn. Revolver grunted, but still felt a little bit of pride inside.

“I activate the spell card Final Preparation from my hand! I destroy one monster on my field, and then I add a spell card that can be used to fusion summon a monster. I add Polymerization to my hand!”

A confused rumble rushed through the others, and of course, it was Soulburner who couldn’t stop voicing his puzzlement.

“Why did he add Polymerization to his hand when Cyberse Clock Dragon is banished? He can’t summon it anyway!” He was eyeing the Dark Dragon Tokens as well, no doubt wondering why weren’t one of them destroyed for the cost of the card instead.

The confusing turn the duel took just ensured Revolver that Playmaker was still himself, just surrounded by a darkness he wouldn’t be able to get out of alone.

“I activate” Playmaker took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come “the spell card, Polymerization from my hand.” Another breath, this time more like a sigh, the gulp of a drowning person reaching for the lifebelt.

“The two forlorn anger that live in the network, surpass the root of evil and become one!”

The Dark Dragon Tokens spiraled into the air to join as one, to give form to a beast made of black metal and purple stained glass, all deadly plasma and shining gems.

“Fusion summon! Appear! Borreload Furious Dragon!”

The Fusion monster flew up high, but when it came down, instead of hovering on the extra monster zone, it leaned above Playmaker, bending to shield the duelist from attacks, from the wind, from anything that would harm the person that summoned him.

No pain came. Playmaker’s face slackened in the presence of Borreload Furious Dragon, as if the giant creature was clearing out his lungs, as if it was getting easier to breathe. Revolver was staring in awe, the grip on his chest eased out. That pale light he saw in Playmaker’s extra deck coming from the monster he gave him six months ago really meant that this one monster would not hurt the duelist. Ever.

No one dared to utter a word. Soulburner and Blue Maiden were as confused to see this monster on Playmaker’s side of the field as ever, and even Spectre was mildly surprised by this turn of events. Playmaker tore his gaze away from the dragon that protectively curled over him to glance at Revolver, searching for answers to a million questions, but only finding one.

One connection was still there, and that was what mattered right now.

The monster followers of Spectre and Soulburner screeched as more and more Corruptors showed up, broken in from all sides like waves of a tsunami. The duelists were quickly overwhelmed by the sheer number that appeared, and they got surrounded from all sides, making escape harder by the minute. Both Borreloads roared at the grey abominations, but the duel field locked them into place.

The ground itself groaned under them. Revolver heard a crack, and he looked down to see the earth open up and swallow him and Playmaker whole followed by the shriek of the other three.

The world blurred and they fell to the darkness underground.

Chapter Text

Father was always very busy, so busy that Ryoken barely saw him without that white lab coat on. Father always woke him up early, and took him to his workplace – laboratory, he kept calling it –, and Ryoken played with two other children who were also there with their mother and father. When he asked Father what he was doing in the laboratory, he answered in detail, but Ryoken could only remember that he was experimenting, and he was trying to make life easier for others. He wondered if that includes creating a robot that would clean his room for him. It would certainly make Ryoken’s life easier.

But even when he was busy, he always brought a strawberry cake for Ryoken’s birthday. Ryoken didn’t particularly like strawberries, but he got cake from his Father, and that already made him very happy. On his sixth birthday he even got a special breakfast he could spend with his Father, later on the morning than usual. Father said the day was special, and he got a day off, so they did not need to go to work. That made Ryoken wonder what all they would do that day, and excitement rose in him. Maybe he could finally get Father to play Duel Monsters with him. Ryoken had a few spare cards, so they could make a quick deck for him to play with, that would never be an issue. Just to be sure, he packed his deck and cards into a fanny pack and hurled it across his shoulders when they were on their way to the car.

Father wore a grey suit, so crisp and immaculate that Ryoken was afraid to even touch it, so he gingerly took hold of Father’s pinky as they arrived at their destination and stepped on the dusty path that lead through the forest to a grey building that looked like it was made of angry storm clouds. He didn’t have a pencil that had that exact color; it was too dark and gloomy to be included among his pencils.

A few people were working on the building, wearing orange vests and helmets even though the building looked like it could live through an explosion and the invasion of dinosaur aliens. Ryoken wasn’t sure how much destruction dinosaur aliens could bring, but it would certainly not be enough to ruin this structure.

He wanted to ask Father what this was and why they were here, he really did, but he was always told to be patient, wait until the adults finished their talk and addressed him, so he waited his turn, trying to catch a few words about a new project, small rooms, not enough equipment, lack of volunteers and founding problems. These last few words seemed to be the most important and worried Father more than the size of the rooms. He wasn’t small anymore, so he understood that Father will have more work now, probably, and this new project will be his, and while he became sad, he knew Father’s work was important, so he was proud of him as well.

He kicked at the dirt when the conversation dragged on for too long, but soon enough, after a polite bow, the construction worker turned away, and Father finally addressed him.

“Ryoken, I will be working here from tomorrow on. My job will be very important, so I am sorry if I can’t spend as much time with you.”

Ryoken mulled over the words for a few moments.

“Is this work more important than what you did up until now?”

“Yes. It is very, very important for the future of humanity.” Father nodded.

Ryoken understood, but that didn’t stop him from growing melancholic, his face to sadden, his lips to quirk down.

“Then it’s okay” he said, but not without a small pout. Just a tiny one that he hoped won’t make Father angry. Silence expanded for a few moments, and when he got confused by the quiet, he looked up.

Father was looking at him, brows knitted in thought, as if he was contemplating something serious, something Ryoken might not understand yet.

“Actually, I think you can help me, Ryoken. Do you want to help?”

Ryoken could feel his chest swell up, and his voice burst out with such confidence it was almost surprising from a six-year-old.

“I want to help Father!”

Father’s smile was already a reward for him, no matter how crooked it looked on his face.

“You will.”

o-o-O-O-o-o

He awoke to the sound of lazily flowing water. It was an odd sound, similar to a recording slowed to half-pace, lower in tone and unnerving because it reminded him that something was broken and couldn’t be fixed. A vintage video-recorder that didn’t have the parts to be repaired anymore.

Revolver lay on his back, and when he opened his eyes, he was met with the damp ceiling of the Link Vrains sewers, moss and mold-covered, cracked and faded, lined by coded grids and faint pixels. His back felt uncomfortable from his fall, not exactly hurt, but sore all over. He moved to sit up, but the movement almost died into a groan as his temples throbbed from another rush of his migraine. The pain shooed away the last remnants of the weird dream he had. When he was safely upright and blinked his vision to clarity, he searched for the other duelists around him.

The black-clad Playmaker laid a few steps to his right, on his side, back to Revolver. The knight stood even though the walls of the sewers were swimming in front of him, to crouch next to Playmaker, one knee on the hard concrete under him.

“Playmaker,” he called out without touching the other, “wake up.”

The duelist stirred instantly. Revolver could still see the shadow around his form that made him just a tad bit blurry, giving his movements a barely perceivable echo. Revolver’s frown deepened. As Playmaker’s eyes opened up, he rolled just barely to his back, searching for Revolver through the voice that woke him up. Once he found his eyes, he didn’t let go. The movement almost made Playmaker lean against his leg fully.

“Revolver.” The statement was given in a kind of wonder that Revolver failed to identify. A moment passed, and then Playmaker looked around, taking in his surroundings, his sight clearing by the minute. Aside from the two of them, no one else was around. Revolver stood to give room to the other.

The sewer water illuminated the area and gave a ghostly glow to the duelists. Playmaker’s face was partially shadowed by the light from under them. The water was mixed with something gray, grainy and damaged, and it took no observation to realize it was the same material the Corruptors were made of. Playmaker must have come to the same conclusion, because he squinted at the flow with barely visible disgust.

“This place is part of the sewers running under Link Vrains to one of the many data reprocessing plants.” Playmaker gave the conclusion, to which Revolver answered in kind.

“It will lead to the ruins of the Tower of Hanoi.”

Up above them the ceiling was solid, no signs of it ever caving in. They couldn’t get out the way they fell in. He frowned and walked forward to where the data was flowing. The Tower was inactive for months now, and the data reprocessing plants built underground were already out of order – new ones were constructed on the edges of the upper parts now, so the lower lever structures lost their purpose already. The fact data still flowed here gave rise to worry.

“This place should be stagnant.”

Playmaker stayed quiet, wondering about the same thing Revolver did. Why was dataflow still active here if neither the reprocessing plants nor the Tower was active? It was worth investigating whether the data that made up the Corruptors had anything to do with this.

Revolver brought up the communication app on his duel disc. As expected, he couldn’t reach Spectre or the others, nor log out; the interface was still unusable. Nothing changed. He glanced at the luminescent water that had the muddy material mixed into it. He wasn’t worried about monsters spawning here, not too much anyway; the data was too unstable to construct itself under the flow. They would have been attacked by the Corruptors already, given they were both carrying a big chunk of those unknown data fragments around. He closed his eyes against the glow when it irked his sight too much, making his vision swim in white spots. It was not making his migraine any better.

“Let us go” he said and stepped forward, following the dataflow. “We should find the exit; the others will probably do the same.”

A few steps ahead he was stopped by the voice behind him.

“Revolver...”

This voice would always make him listen against his better judgement, would always make him halt and give his full attention to the duelist. He turned toward Playmaker, towards that unsure, quiet voice calling his name. Playmaker was watching him, head lowered not in shame but in uncertainty, seizing him up, searching for answers to unasked questions. He had the same stubbornness to him as when before they dueled, when he refused to reply to their query. When he was forced to work with them.

But there was something else too, something that remained from their duel, a spark that wasn’t there an hour before.

A bond.

It took Revolver’s breath away.

He had to hide behind his mask and turn away from Playmaker before the duelist would see anything else other than stoic determination on his face. Revolver didn’t trust his avatar’s repressed emoting ability right in that moment.

“Let us go. The sooner we get out of here the better.”

He heard Playmaker’s steps behind him, and a rushed “Wait a moment–!“ before they both froze. There was movement in front of them, just behind the wall where the sewers took a sharp turn, something at the edge of their sight that disappeared when they tried to look at it.

And then, a child’s laughter.

None of them moved. Only Playmaker’s sharp breathing could be heard.

“What is this feeling?” He asked out loud as if talking to himself. Revolver chanced a glance his way, but the duelist was staring at the wall where the route turned away.

“What do you feel?” Revolver was aware of Playmaker’s heightened sense when it came to the virtual reality, but he rarely mentioned it for fear of reminiscing. It was more than likely a painful reminder of the Lost Incident, and, like everything that had to do with it, filled Revolver with conflicted emotions.

“I’m not sure,” Playmaker answered, and stepped right next to Revolver. He could almost feel the warmth of the other’s body even through their avatars and the millions of data separating them. “There is something ahead that gives this sensation of dread. I have never felt anything like that before.”

That’s very reassuring, Revolver thought.

Bracing himself, he stepped forward, Playmaker following in tow without another word. Their steps were in sync, and echoed as one along the walls. Once they were past the turn, their surroundings changed.

The room became bigger as if someone pushed the walls manually to the side, the graphical coding stretched and blurred to the point of morbidity. In the middle of the graphical bug, there were the pixelated forms of two children, their faces unrecognizable behind the glitched data. Their limbs clipped through the floor, their outline disappeared altogether from time to time. Their forms were frozen into a forever loop, colliding together, moving to gather fragments of data from the ground somewhere beyond the sewer floor only to repeat it again and again with less and less clarity as the loop went on.

Despite it all, Revolver recognized the scene. His arms went numb, his shoulders felt heavy.

“That’s...” Even though Playmaker didn’t finish the sentence, it was obvious he also knew what played out in front of them.

Their first meeting. That chance meeting on the backstreets of the residential area where their Duel Monster cards got mixed up. The first time they exchanged words.

The moment Revolver invited Playmaker over and sealed his future away.

The vision slowly faded, and the last loop left behind a silence that deafened Revolver and pushed the air out of his lungs. The visage of the stretched-out walls swam in front of him, and when they morphed back into their original design, Revolver took a step forward to hide his dizziness into movement. Playmaker and a heavy silence followed.

Another turn brought another amorph vision. A child was laying on his stomach, unmoving, grayish blue data covering his changing form, body blinking out from existence. A faulty recording edited by fear and despair. He raised his head, as if listening, then moved to talk. Then it looped, and the boy was on the floor again, getting dimmer by the second.

“I heard your voice.” Playmaker, the real one, not the grayish young imitation in front of them, said. He was pale, paler than his avatar should be, and his brows had the barest of quivers in them.

“I know.” Revolver replied without a thought, maybe to distract Playmaker from the scene. The duelist tore his eyes away from his tortured doppelganger in front of them. “The Corruptors take on the forms of duel monsters from leftover data. There is a possibility what we are seeing is caused by the same phenomenon.”

Playmaker caught on instantly, trying his best to ignore the fading visage of his younger self.

“Do you think this data is creating visions of memories?”

“It is a possibility,” Revolver watched the muddy water flow from one end to the other. The vision in front of them disappeared, and the walls returned to normal. “Unused data seep into the sewers from all around the old Link Vrains and gather here. That may be why the Corruptors could appear anywhere we went.”

“They constructed themselves right from the ground.” Playmaker exclaimed, but then frowned. “But this is different. We are still present and retain all of our data in our avatars. How can it create anything from our memories?”

Playmaker’s mind was something Revolver adored immensely; the brilliance of the duelist was blinding even when grief and miasma was suffocating him still from within.

“That is something for us to find out. If it can extract data from us even without absorbing our avatars, it might be more dangerous than we thought.” Revolver’s voice quieted down, and Playmaker watched the road in front of them.

“We will find more visions as we go on, won’t we?”

“That, we certainly will.”

They started walking in unison without hesitation.

And indeed, the visions came. All were just a macabre copy of reality, a foolish parody of what really happened, missing bits and pieces but still recognizable to the ones present. There was Revolver as a kid, sitting at a table and playing Duel Monsters against someone. The memory was so common he wasn’t sure when exactly it happened, but he saw himself jumping out of his seat mid-duel and running to the side of his opponent, for reasons he couldn’t remember.

And then there was Playmaker, rescued from captivity, transported to a hospital, and Revolver returning to the scene weeks later to find Spectre there. Then there was a mix of random images, them dueling unseen opponents and working at desks, slouching over keyboards in concentration. A swirl of wind brought along the image of Revolver attacking the Cyberse, and Playmaker showing up in Link Vrains for the first time. Then there was their first duel, then the second, and soon they saw themselves facing off at the top of the Tower of Hanoi again.

Revolver quickened his steps, refusing to look at the images the data was showing them. They made his head hurt, and his heart even more. It reminded him how the past was unchangeable and remained to haunt him every waking moment. It showed all of his mistakes right in his face as if he wasn’t already painfully aware of all of them. His ears were ringing, and the stubborn zeal with which he strode through the visions made his head hurt more. Even his own helmet was cutting into his skin uncomfortably. He could only imagine how it must feel for Playmaker to see all these unfair memories, reminders of the prison he could never get free from even after being rescued, seeing all of these in the presence of the very person responsible for the many misfortunes of his life–

“Revolver, slow down!”

Playmaker’s grip on his elbow stopped him, and he swiveled around to round on the other.

“What is it?” His voice rang strange even to his own ears, and the stare from Playmaker made it obvious the other was tuned to his feelings. The duelist hesitated for only a moment, but he did not let go. He stepped closer, and Revolver fought the urge to step back and away from him.

“I feel anxious from these visions as well, but we shouldn’t rush ahead.”

Revolver observed Playmaker for a few moments, watched his furrowed brows and wild eyes that were a mirror of his own. Truly, they were a match in that moment more so than ever.

“It is not the same,” Revolver allowed. “I do not have the same sense as you do.”

Playmaker tilted his head to the side in thought.

“Do you...” a pause, “do you think I feel unwell more so than you?”

Revolver remained still. Such a question warranted worry, and his silence was a cue for Playmaker to elaborate.

“I feel strangely calm. No.” His frown deepened. “Calm is not the right word. I think I feel hollow looking at all these scenes in front of me.”

This declaration should not make Revolver’s stomach drop down. He was more aware of Playmaker’s fingers on his elbow, their light touch and cold tips.

“You might have been right, you know,” Playmaker continued. “I was declawed after my duel with Ai. But probably not in the sense you meant.” He looked at Revolver in the eye, and he almost wanted to look away. “When I lost him, I was unable to feel anything but sadness. I felt part of me disappear, made to disappear by my own hands. I ripped out my own heart willingly. And ever since, everything felt wrong.”

Revolver was unable to say anything to that.

“I’m standing here, seeing these visions of the Lost Incident, of the time when I was held captive and tortured, and all the times we faced off and fought, teeth and claw, and I feel nothing.” The last few words were pushed through gritted teeth as Playmaker hissed at Revolver. The duelist finally let go of his elbow and dropped his hand to his side. “Without Ai, I am nothing.”

There it was again, the black shadow around Playmaker’s form, the miasma around his deck and the darkness somewhere deep in his eyes, filling up the emptiness the duelist held in his heart. If this pain was rooted so deep, so entangled, Revolver wondered if there was a point to their duel at all.

But Playmaker was talking to him. He refused to do even that much before, so maybe that was something to take solace from.

“You know you do not have to do everything alone,” Revolver decided to say, to stir the conversation to Playmaker’s friends. “Soulburner and Kusanagi Shoichi–“

“They don’t understand this.” Playmaker vaguely mentioned to himself. “Soulburner already moved on, and Kusanagi-san got his brother back.”

Revolver turned fully toward the other duelist. The closeness felt almost intimate, made them both quiet their voice.

“Seems like it is only the two of us who are still weighted down by the past.”

Playmaker tilted his head up at that, eyes wide.

Revolver reached down to hook his fingers under Playmaker’s left wrist to raise his hand up between the two of them. The old-style duel disc was covered faintly by the miasma as it was seeping out of it. Revolver couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it before; it was so obvious now that he knew what to search for.

“I can see you, Playmaker.” His voice lowered into a near whisper. The duelist in front of him stiffened. “I said this during our duel, and I still stand by this. Didn’t this deck prove me right?”

Playmaker watched the duel disc with a forlorn expression while Revolver held his wrist lightly in place. The duelist reached for it and picked out a card from the extra deck. The vibrant and undamaged Borreload Furious Dragon snarled back at him from the card.

“That... might be why I told you all this.” Playmaker admitted, and Revolver counted that as a win. Playmaker’s expression had that same small spark as he looked at the fusion monster’s art on the card. The bond that was still there. The connection that Playmaker was unable to feel.

Empty?

Was Playmaker really empty?

Or was it grief clouding his vision?

Loneliness and sadness can make beings such as him do horrible things they will later regret. J’s words were echoing in him, and it made him wonder if it had anything to do with Playmaker’s plans. He did say there was something he had to do alone. That he had to search for Ai alone, or something horrible would happen. Or was it the other way around, but Playmaker refused to see?

They were standing so close Revolver could hear, almost feel Playmaker’s breathing. He was torn between stepping away and basking in the intimacy of their closeness. It had been too long since he could observe the duelist so openly, the sharp lines of his eyes, the fiery locks of his hair, the edge of his jaw and the black bodysuit hiding the neck and shoulders; the yellow grid line that circled his bicep and disappeared somewhere behind his raised arm between them.

And worst of all, Playmaker could not see, nor share this conflict he felt in his heart.

Slowly, tenderly, Revolver released Playmaker’s wrist when he could feel the duelist held his arm in place between the two of them.

“You said that the Dark Ignis is still alive.”

“His name is Ai.”

“But what if I prove that you are wrong? What then, Playmaker?”

He said he was empty, but to Revolver it seemed his heart was buried under the grief, that he was lost in a dark labyrinth without a torch, without a way out. Trapped. Alone. Revolver refused to leave it at that. And just like in their duel, he will show him the way out.

Playmaker gingerly slid Borreload Furious Dragon back into the extra deck, and shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

Revolver allowed this uncertainty. He knew what grief could do to a person. Playmaker was already carrying it alone for six months, and if he was able to alleviate some of his pain, he was willing to play along.

He closed his eyes against the pain in his temples and stepped away.

“Let us continue on.”

And so they did.

They kept to a steadier pace, but Revolver avoided the visions as much as possible, but still, some of them called out to him more than others. The last time he held his father’s hand, when he switched his life support off to the keening of the heart monitor. When Yusaku, stood at the window of the Kogami mansion, watching him exit from his life only to later return. The meeting with the Light Ignis, and the first fight against the Wind Ignis. Playmaker fighting against the Earth Ignis, then watching it being disintegrated by SOL Technologies. Blue Maiden introducing herself to Playmaker with the Water Ignis finding home in her duel disc. Soulburner provoking a fight against Revolver who threw it willingly, only to be reprimanded by the Fire Ignis on his tactless behavior.

It was odd how the data seemed to focus on the various Ignises now, as if it knew Playmaker was searching for one of them. As if their memories were driven into focus against adversaries they no longer had.

Revolver never saw the Ignises as anything other than a curse. The children of Kogami Kiyoshi who their father wanted to dispose of for the better of humanity, to save them from death and slavery. If given the chance, the Light Ignis would lead humanity into certain doom.

By the time they saw Playmaker face off against Kusanagi Shoichi again, the visions adapted a texture, making it all feel more real than before. The people were recognizable now, only partially pixelated, the area gained the graphical background of their duels. When they arrived to a field full of flowers and watched Revolver reach out for Playmaker before disintegrating into data, they could almost hear his voice.

Revolver watched the scene play out once before stepping past it to continue on. It was an embarrassment, experiencing death made him sentimental enough to talk about his past to Playmaker and the Dark Ignis, even going as far as to call the A.I. by his given name.

“He was very upset.” Playmaker’s voice yet again made him stop and turn around, only to see him watch the scene unfold again. “Ai. When he watched you disappear like that. He thought you were gone.”

And what about you, Revolver wanted to ask, a stubborn, bratty side of his mind that he stomped on before it could crawl to the surface. He could not fault Playmaker, in the end. He was living with his grief for six months, so it was natural his focus was on the Dark Ignis and nothing else.

“We were gone,” he decided to answer.” But we were able to come back when you defeated Bohman. It was thanks to you.”

Playmaker didn’t reply to that, Revolver wondered if he heard him at all. He had no one else in his sight anymore aside from the Dark Ignis. Once the conviction that the A.I. still existed somewhere in the network breaks, he wondered if Playmaker will be able to move on, or spiral further down into despair. 

Ahead the road tipped down, leading further underground. They jumped over the edge and skidded down to where the sewer leveled out again. The water mixed with the muddy data beside them slowed down to a near halt but they didn’t stop. They could hear water droplets hitting the puddles on the concrete, which was impossible in itself, because this material wasn’t actual liquid. A gentle gust of wind caught into Revolver’s coat, which was another oddity – wind should not be blowing down there, unless someone made it to. Or – and he really hoped that was the case – the exit was near.

Playmaker’s steps faltered and his hand reached up to his chest, a hesitant movement that was halted as soon as it was initiated. He looked further ahead, and that was enough for Revolver to know he felt something again, something that would warrant a full stop from the shock. When Revolver stared at him, Playmaker just shook his head to indicate that he was alright, and then they were on the move again.

Another drop in levels brought them in front of an unassuming metal door. Gray and shiny, neatly build into a painted brick wall. It stood out from the pixelated room of the sewers like a sore thumb. As if someone decided in the last minute to change the design but failed to properly texture the graphics. Revolver thought they were past all possible tricks the data could show them, there was quiet for so long, but it seemed something was still waiting for them. Revolver glanced at Playmaker who nodded, and they opened the door.

They stepped into a darkened airplane hangar. The area was immense, much bigger than the sewers would allow it normally, at least fifteen meters high and thirty meters wide and deep. The darkness didn’t let them see too much of it, but somewhere above them Revolver was able to spot the repair bridges running from one wall to the other. Boxes lined the floor at one side, unused cables and service lifts the other.

Revolver braved the expanse to search for an exit. His eyes didn’t adjust to the darkness, maybe another trick of the visions, so seeing exactly what was on the other end of the room was increasingly difficult. A few dying lightbulbs were the only source of light, which barely gave them an idea of their surroundings.

It was quiet, way too quiet. Their steps echoed in the room. It took a few moments for Revolver to realize Playmaker wasn’t following him.

He was almost at the other end when he turned around to see Playmaker still standing in the middle, looking up at one of the service bridges above. Revolver followed his line of sight, and as if on cue, the bulbs lit up the bridge like reflectors showing the main attraction.

There were two forms on the bridge. One, Fujiki Yusaku, made up of gray data and white-indigo cloth. The other, the Dark Ignis in the body of a SOLtis android, cape attached, face pixelated. Now that he saw the two forms, Revolver recognized the place too. After all, he did go to check the aftermath of the duel between Playmaker and the Dark Ignis only to find inactive SOLtis bodies littering the floor, no living life-forms in sight.

He glanced at Playmaker. The duelist was frozen in place, posture limp, eyes wide as he stared unblinkingly at the SOLtis above him. Revolver could already feel his heart breaking upon seeing Playmaker’s expression, and he wasn’t even sure what was about to happen.

The SOLtis body above faltered, and Playmaker shrieked.

“Ai!”

The Dark Ignis collided with the railing of the bridge, then flipped and fell.

The sound of the body hitting the ground made Revolver flinch.

Silence was deafening.

Playmaker’s breathing was a hard push and desperate gulp for air as panic rose in him.

Out from the ground countless copies of the laid-down, dead Dark Ignis rose in circles all around the hangar with Playmaker standing in the middle. His head swiveled around as he watched all the bodies appear.

Revolver was unable to tear his gaze away from the duelist as he watched the scene unfold from the darkness of the room. He only saw the aftermath. He was never there to see the Dark Ignis fall and break its android body on the hard floor, was never there to hear Playmaker’s shriek. It was almost too much to bear.

“...Ai… Ai–!”

It was like a plea, words barely pushing out from the parted lips as there was not enough air in those lungs, not enough power in the vocal cords. Playmaker’s devastation would not be healed by the fading of this vision, nor by acceptance of grief. It was so deep-rooted; Revolver feared it might never heal.

He lowered his head to give a form of privacy to the duelist. The SOLtis bodies and the whole room were deafeningly silent, unnerving like the quiet before the storm.

Something was wrong.

The scene wasn’t looping, nor did it fade out.

The black-clad duelist was the only one moving as he muttered the given name of the Dark Ignis nonstop.

Revolver felt a lump raise in his throat.

“Playmaker.”

As if his voice was a catalyst, all the dead SOLtis bodies raised their heads to stare at Playmaker standing between them. Playmaker flinched when he looked at the blind, gray-blotched faces of the bodies. Revolver felt a shiver down his spine, and he immediately started toward the other. “Playmaker!”

The bodies around him were chanting the name as well, calling out for their master, for the one that defeated them, their voice distorted.

“Playmaker.”

“Playmaker-sama.”

“Playmaker-sama, please.”

“Please, defeat me.”

“Please, end it.”

“Kill me.”

“Or I will kill you.”

“AI!” Playmaker shrieked, and backed away from the SOLtis that were now crawling toward him, hands reaching blindly for his feet and leg, to catch him and crawl onto his body. Playmaker had nowhere to run, surrounded by the bodies, and Revolver felt sick just from seeing the damaged and empty SOLtis, reach for the duelist. The forms were morphing right in front of his eyes, and by the time he reached Playmaker’s side, the bodies were a black, grey and purple mass that were gurgling on the voice of the Dark Ignis.

“End it.”

“Kill me.”

“Kill me so I won’t kill you.”

“Yusaku...”

“Yusaku-chan...”

“Playmaker!” Revolver stood next to Playmaker and called out to him, but the duelist wasn’t seeing him in the midst of the horror he was trapped in. The SOLtis already latched up to his thigh, and when Revolver grabbed his arm to shake him out of it and make him run, Playmaker was unable to move.

“Playmaker, can you hear me?”

“Kill me.”

“Please.”

“Playmaker, listen to me!”

“Yusaku.”

“I loved you.”

Playmaker sucked in a sharp breath, and his face constricted, and Revolver felt his world break.

“Ai. AI!”

“Playmaker!” Revolver grabbed onto his shoulders and stood right in front of him, right in his line of sight so he will be forced to look away from the crooked copies of the Dark Ignis, he will be forced to listen. “Playmaker, listen to me! What you see right now is not real! The place is messing with your memory to break you. You must not listen to it. Close your eyes, and do not listen!”

Playmaker stared at Revolver’s chest, but he wasn’t seeing anything other than the bodies reaching out for him. He was trapped, body and mind, and the dark miasma was rolling off his form more visible than ever. If this continued–

Revolver grit his teeth. His hands that were holding onto Playmaker’s shoulders grabbed onto his face and forced his sight up. Playmaker’s eyes flicked up at him, but they were yet unfocused.

“Look at me!” Revolver commanded, voice louder and deeper, much deeper than intended. The viridian eyes shook as they tried to focus. “Look at me, Playmaker! These are not the real Ai!” Eyes were clearing slowly but surely, and Revolver knew he just had to keep Playmaker’s attention to make his spiraling stop. “What happened back there is already in the past. You can not change it, but living in the memory will not make it easier. Do not get swept away!”

Playmaker’s breathing was so uneven Revolver was worried he might hyperventilate; his body shook so violently he felt he might go into a shock. His eyesight skittered from side to side, searching for Revolver’s eyes and unable to find their grip on them. Revolver hurriedly reached up to his helmet and removed it from his avatar, the material disappearing into neon green codes. Playmaker stared, finally finding him.

“Playmaker-sama!”

“Yusaku-chan!”

Playmaker’s mouth opened into a silent cry, and Revolver slid his hands up to cover the duelist’s ears with his palms. Playmaker’s own hands moved, and for a moment Revolver was worried he will push him away, but instead he grabbed onto Revolver’s wrists to hold him in place. His shoulders fell, his head was pulled down, the movement getting him closer to Revolver’s shoulder.

“Yusaku-chan, please kill me!”

“Yusaku-chan!”

“I loved you!”

Playmaker closed his eyes. He was more than likely still able to hear the voices through his covered ears, but their effect was lessened. Whether it was due to the lowered volume or Revolver’s closeness, he wouldn’t know. The data mass was still crawling up his body, but their pace slowed, and they never reached his waist. Their chanting was never-ending, and if he was able to, Revolver would cover his own ears, the tune and level was so grating on his senses. Instead, he pulled Playmaker’s face closer, and to his surprise, the other went willingly, followed him, gave himself over just to make the nightmare stop. Playmaker’s forehead fell against his shoulder. Revolver could feel his full-body shivers through his avatar. He leaned his cheek against Playmaker’s temple. One hand slid into fiery locks so he could whisper into his ear in hopes to drown out the voices of the vision.

“Focus on my voice, Playmaker.” The duelist shivered, and took in a shaky breath. Revolver continued. “The vision will stop, you just have to stay strong until then. You are not alone in this. Kusanagi Shoichi, Soulburner, and Blue Maiden are all worried about you, and they are here to help you.” He was talking to drown out the other voices, rambling only so Playmaker would have an anchor to grab onto. “I am here too, we are together in this god-forsaken place. We are together in our inability to let the past go. Playmaker. Wasn’t it you who said you are the only one who can save me? And I am the only one who can save you? We will see how true that is.” Unconsciously, Revolver’s thumb caressed Playmaker’s cheek, but the other gave no sign of noticing it. “Listen to my voice. Listen only to my voice.” The crooked growl of the Dark Ignis was getting quieter. Revolver’s lips almost touched the shell of Playmaker’s ear. “If you drown in the darkness, Playmaker, I will be there to get you out. Follow my voice back.”

Revolver continued to talk, and by the time Playmaker’s breathing evened out, the room grew quiet around them. The vision blurred. The SOLtis bodies melted back into the floor. The walls twisted and shrunk. The hangar disappeared, and they were standing in the sewer again, steadily swirling dataflow beside them. Revolver hushed, and then they just stood there, Playmaker with his eyes closed, shaky fingers holding Revolver’s wrists, and Revolver with one hand against Playmaker’s ear, another in his hair.

They were still as statues. Revolver was able to feel his own heartbeat hammering through the veins in his whole body.

What he just witnessed was absurd. The vision was clearer than anything they had seen before. How much was actual memory, and how much a trick of the code. How much actually happened, what was added, and what reflected reality. Did the Dark Ignis ask Playmaker to defeat him? To kill him? And did he really say those words–?

I loved you.

In the quiet, Revolver leaned his cheek closer to Playmaker’s in the barest of movements, but it was enough to stir the duelist from whatever headspace he fell into. Playmaker pushed Revolver’s hands off him and stepped back, face turned away, down to see if there were any remnants of the SOLtis bodies.

Revolver’s arms and heart that was full of Playmaker just a moment ago felt painfully empty in that moment. He berated himself for the weakness, and lowered his arms to his side, deliberate and slow. He could see shame on the duelist’s face, similar to what he saw during their duel when he failed to summon Decode Talker.

Playmaker’s mouth opened and then closed. His eyes never left the ground. Revolver waited, but then sighed. He felt fight leave him through that exhale.

“There is no need to talk about it if you do not want to.”

Playmaker finally looked at him, and his eyes widened just a fraction. His eyes panned Revolver’s face, his brows, his fringe, his jaw, and the eyes that were always shaded by the visor. Right, Revolver removed his helmet a few minutes ago. He felt naked without it. He felt the stare to be almost inappropriate under their current circumstances.

“What?” He barked out, and Playmaker steadied himself.

“I ever saw you without your helmet once.” His voice was confused, as if he was surprised by the words as well.

Revolver nearly snorted.

“Is that really what you focus on right now–?”

And then he closed his mouth with a clang. Playmaker pinched the bridge of his nose in what seemed to be a moment of embarrassment.

A pause, then, “I can take it off, I just prefer not to.” Revolver took the bait to change the topic and ease out whatever aftershock was making Playmaker scattered. To prove a point, he flicked his wrist in the air then touched his fingers against his chin, and his helmet appeared on his face yet again. Playmaker blinked, and kept watching him in contemplation.

“It’s harder to see your eyes this way.”

Revolver hummed. That was exactly why he removed the helmet when he ordered Playmaker to look at him.

There were a few moments of silence as Revolver waited whether the other would finally elaborate on the vision they saw, but when it was getting obvious Playmaker did not intend to do such a thing, he spoke up.

“We should go. Spectre, Soulburner and Blue Maiden are alone somewhere as well, and there is a chance they might be haunted by these visions too.”

Playmaker’s head snapped up at that, and he followed with a sharp nod. “Right.”

Revolver turned around–

–and fell–

–against the wall beside him.

His vision tilted with such vehemence he lost his footing and had to lean against the wall for purchase.

“Revolver!”

The room went dark.

Completely.

Utterly.

He was unable to see as far as his own hand.

“Revolver–!”

Judging by the voice, it wasn’t Revolver’s eyes that were blinded, nor did he lose consciousness suddenly – even though it certainly felt like he did.

“Playmaker!”

His back hit the wall as he turned and reached behind him where he knew Playmaker was before. If they separate in this darkness, who knows when they will meet up again. He swallowed his panic as his fingers fought against the shades and grabbed onto a slender wrist.

The sewer lit up again, and Playmaker was right beside him, wrist in Revolver’s hand. He was staring as Revolver looked around and slowly released his hold.

“A black-out?” Playmaker’s voice rang strange in his ear.

“Highly unlikely.” Revolver scoffed. Nausea was hitting him with renewed intensity. It was probably only his migraine, he told himself. He had it for a few days now, after all, and he had no chance to get anything for it ever since he was inside Link Vrains.

How long had they been here anyway? A few hours only? Or was it a day already?

The pain behind his eyes flared up, and the back of his skull hit the wall as he leaned against it. The reverberating shock was almost a salve against this attack. He could barely keep his eyes open against the sting of it. He pushed the whole of his back, his nape, his palms against the cold, hard code behind him, to feel it, to anchor himself. A groan left his throat without his consent, and when he squinted against the white spots blinding him, Playmaker was there, leaning close.

His mouth moved, called his name, asked if he was alright. Revolver could barely make it out.

He fought against the attack to steady himself, but everything went blurry and pale. He had to swallow his nausea, unsure if sickness would make him vomit in real life if his mind thought it was real enough.

Playmaker was so close, but his vision was still so blurred he was unable to make out the details of his form.

Fingers pushed against his bicep, then slid down on his arms to his wrist. Hooked under the strap of his duel disc.

He took a shaky breath. Willed his vision to clear. The pair of green eyes staring back at him from up close was nothing like the vibrant spring leaves he was so used to. Fingers dug into his wrist to unhook his duel disc from his person. He almost didn’t feel it through the pain thrumming against his skull, but feeling the other so close his breath puffed against his cheek gave him the last push to act.

His right arm reached up and he grabbed onto the shining light of a card that appeared beside him. Barely a thought was enough for Borreload Dragon to appear, his gust of wind to push the duelist off of him. Nails scratched his arms as fingers released him. The walls adapted, stretched to fit Borreload Dragon’s form between them, as if on command. The sewers expanded, and as Revolver leaned against the wall, Borreload Dragon was by his side, growling vehemently at his adversary.

Revolver felt it. A pulsating thrum that resonated through him, like a heartbeat, but it wasn’t his own. It was mechanical, a metallic chime, but in sync with his own. It cleared his mind despite the pain.

He felt it. A wrongness that enveloped him the moment sudden blackness descended upon them. His mind and body barely kept up with the feeling and made him sick.

He felt it. A presence standing in front of him that wasn’t Playmaker at all.

He had his form. Slender and dangerous, black, green and neon yellow with a hair of autumn and eyes of summer. Stood there, unmoving, and staring at him with empty orbs.

It was only a mockery of what Playmaker truly was. It was nothing like him.

“Who are you?” Revolver demanded, and the strength behind his voice was fueled by indignation and vigor.

The other moved as if commanded. Straightened himself and for a fracture of a moment, the form of Playmaker blinked into another, too fast to see, but enough to notice.

Huge eyes stared at him unblinkingly. They changed silvery gray. A pair of storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

His voice was familiar and eerie. He had heard it shouting through Link Vrains before.

“Give it back!”

Chapter Text

“Give it back!”

Borreload Dragon hunched over Revolver. The walls and the ceiling of the old Link Vrains sewers expanded to house the dragon inside. The whole of the place grew bigger as if it was designed as such right from the beginning. Pixelated blotches littered the walls and the flowing data gave off that eerie glow, now mixed with a grayish tint as the Corruptors’ data was contaminating it. Revolver had one palm pushed against the wall behind him for support. A moment ago, he was fighting against the dizziness his sudden headache brought, and under its effect he was still unable to fully clear his vision.

But one thing he was still sure of: whatever it was standing in front of him, wasn’t Playmaker at all.

Just after the room darkened and Revolver grabbed for the other duelist, this other thing was there, taking on the black and yellow visage of Playmaker, calling out on his voice, mimicking him to almost perfection.

“I will ask you again.” Revolver tipped his chin up, head held high. “Who are you?”

The thing shook its head, Playmaker’s head. Revolver almost got whiplash from it.

Whether it meant it can’t tell or won’t tell was hard to decide. And ultimately, it was irrelevant.

“I saw your memories.” It changed the topic. That voice that previously mimicked Playmaker’s was now different. It was the one that shrieked through Link Vrains when they lost connection to the outside world. “And I saw myself.” A slender, back arm was raised, a finger pointed at Revolver’s brow. “In there.”

“What?”

“I finally remembered!” It spread its arms wide and rushed forward, pulling a gust of wind with itself. It launched itself right at Revolver, but Borreload Dragon was there to stop it before it could even so much as touch a hair on him. The dragon roared, and a clawed arm sliced right through the thing. It disintegrated just as easily as the Corruptors did, and fell to particles to be carried away by the breeze.

It left a stunned silence behind. Revolver leaned his forehead against Borreload Dragon’s arm, his mask chimed as it collided with the dragon’s armor. It felt like his head was ripping in half. A deep inhale followed by a slow exhale was the ritual to calm his pain, repeated over and over until the humming of Borreload Dragon’s core wasn’t hurting his ears.

Whatever the hell this thing was, it was following them around, digging through their memories in search of something, but what it wanted remained a mystery still. Revolver shut his eyes tightly, swallowed against the pain. He only opened them once it subsided enough so the pale light wasn’t like a spear to his skull.

Playmaker.

He had to find Playmaker.

He ran through the expanded sewers. His aim was the same as before, to find the exit, but above all, he had to meet up with Playmaker again. That disturbance separated the two of them and there was no guarantee that Playmaker could get away unscathed from the meeting, especially if he couldn’t summon any of his monsters to fight. Who knows what their unknown enemy was capable of. Borreload Dragon flew behind him, and he was not in the presence of mind to dismiss his companion.

“J.” Revolver called out, focusing on the road in front of him. “You are here aren’t you?”

“Hey,” came the chipper reply. “You are getting better at this, you knew I was here before I said anything.”

Revolver got cold sweat from it, yes, but he had more important matters to attend to.

“You called for a purpose, didn’t you?” Revolver almost wasn’t paying attention to him. “Out with it.”

“Something is wrong, right?” J said instead, voice somewhere between amused and serious. “You get all bossy when something happens.”

“Out with it.”

“I am monitoring your world as much as I can from here, and something was interfering with me.” The fact J started to explain without a side comment must have meant he found the situation serious enough. “I felt the Dark One, and someone else, probably the person interfering. And then I heard your voice, even though I wasn’t calling you, so I was very surprised, but considering you felt me this time, I think you are already getting the hang of–“

“J!” Revolver reprimanded the caller who he still couldn’t quite place anywhere just into a weird pocket thought of oddest acquaintance he had ever since the digitalized ghost of his own father. He followed the sewer water as it took a sharp turn to the left and then fell down a few meters. Revolver jumped to the next level and grabbed onto Borreload Dragon’s arm to slow his descend. The Dragon followed his every movement and thought. “The important part!”

He had to focus on Playmaker.

“But this is important too!” There was a curt swear on the other side of the line. “We will talk about this later. This person interfering with me. He is powerful. Very powerful. And it seems the Dark One and you are both inside his domain. I can feel others too, but they are further away.”

Spectre, and the others.

“But still, Revolver! You said that world is a virtual reality.”

“And you said it is becoming real.”

“Yes!” J exclaimed, as if he was happy Revolver was paying attention. “And this person has an iron grip on that world. He can bend it to his will, as if he is part of it!”

“This thing extracted our memories and appeared before me as a human.”

“I have no idea what form he appeared in for you, but by my definition, he is a person.”

Revolver grit his teeth.

“He is nothing more than some weird A.I. generated by the Ignis Algorithm.” That was the only logical conclusion, and before anything proves him differently, he will stand by it.

“You said that before, but what is this Ignis Algorithm?” J’s voice was impatient, but genuinely curious. “I’m not a techie, but knowing about it might help me understand what the hell is wrong with your world.”

“It is a very long story and I have no time to indulge you.” Annoyance was obvious from his voice, he knew it, and to back him up, Borreload Dragon growled in agreement.

“Give me the details later, but tell me something!”

“It’s a code that makes up the Data Material and is used by the A.I.s with free will who were created by my father through human experiments.” Revolver spat the words at J like a curse. Borreload Dragon roared its displeasure. “Satisfied?”

“What?” J’s stunned silence was at least a bit of a win, however petty it seemed. “What do you mean?”

Revolver had no chance of dismissing the question because as he took a sharp turn to the left, he collided against Playmaker.

The air was knocked out of him by the sudden appearance and the body against him that stepped back as hurriedly as it fell at him. Revolver stood tall and steady while Playmaker bent his knees just slightly, ready to fight or flee.

Revolver stared at him, then demanded:

“Are you the real one?”

Playmaker’s eyes widened just a fraction, and his posture eased out.

“Are you?” he fired back, even though his body language already made it obvious he knew it was the real Revolver in front of him.

Playmaker was the same as before, a slender and graceful black panther with eyes shining like the midday sunlight through the leaves. Only that pale, barely-there mist around his duel disc dirtied his radiance.

Tension left Revolver’s shoulders. Borreload Dragon behind him was still and calm.

“So you have met with an illusion too.”

Playmaker’s eyes shifted to the side for a short moment before it returned to him.

“Oh, is it the Dark One?”

Revolver paled, and glared at his duel disc as if it betrayed him. He thought, hoped, J disappeared when he heard another person joined Revolver, but it seemed his never-existent luck ran out.

Playmaker eyed Revolver’s duel disc as it if grew another head. It might as well.

“...Is that an A.I.?” Playmaker was bewildered by the idea itself. Rightfully so, Revolver thought.

“Why is everyone asking that?!” J’s voice would have passed as indignant, except Revolver could hear the repressed laugh behind the words. He closed his eyes to will another incoming headache away that had nothing to do with his migraine.

“I’m a person, you know.” Yet again, that sentence.

“Are you really?” Playmaker squinted at the gem on the duel disc, at Revolver’s wrist that was at his side. He refused to raise it, as Playmaker or Soulburner was doing when their Ignises were talking.

He sighed, accepting the fact they were having this conversation now.

“A few days ago, he contacted me, but there is no call line, nor unauthorized access logged on my duel disc. And, yes, he is not an A.I., apparently.”

“How is that possible? Then who is it?”

“Oh, you can call me J, nice to meet you!” That voice was yet again too chipper. Maybe he thought it was fine not to worry about their situation now that they met up with the Dark One. “What’s your name?”

“...Playmaker.”

“Huh? I thought Revolver was odd, but what kinda name is that?”

“What kind of a name is J?” Playmaker replied, and Revolver snorted at that. It only earned him a confused look from the other duelist.

“Wow, okay, aren’t you two just peas in a pod?” J deadpanned. Revolver supposed he deserved that.

Playmaker’s confusion only grew, but Revolver couldn’t help finding the situation at least somewhat amusing.

“According to J,” Revolver said, “whoever has us trapped here can manipulate Link Vrains at will.”

That got Playmaker’s attention.

“Like Bohman?” Playmaker raised a hand to his chin in thought. “Is it an A.I. then?”

“It’s a person!”

“...Is what he keeps saying.”

Playmaker was still lost in his mind.

“It can be an A.I. with free will” he mused. “But not an Ignis, we would know that. So another A.I. that’s alive? Is that possible?”

“They are not alive, and they are definitely not people.” Revolver said, voice low and loud. It made Playmaker flinch, and in turn made Revolver’s heart pang.

“Revolver! The Ignis were all alive in the network. They had free will, they had personalities, opinions, ideals. They were special, and with the exception of physical bodies, they were just like us humans.”

“Do not compare some artificial intelligence to living and breathing people!”

“When Flame disappeared, Soulburner could feel his loss! He wasn’t completely himself after it. You know it best, you dueled against him and helped him out.”

Oh, he remembered. The duel, where Soulburner burnt up his grief and sorrow so Homura Takeru could live his life again.

“Even Spectre admitted he felt Earth die, didn’t he? They had a special connection to us! Isn’t that proof they were alive? Isn’t that something that makes us human?”

“Then what about you?” Anger flared up in Revolver. “Didn’t you say that you have no connections left?”

Playmaker’s eyes were defiant as he glared back.

“Didn’t you show me that I still have at least one?”

That shut Revolver up so effectively nothing else ever would. Playmaker stepped close, too close, and the reason Revolver didn’t take a step back wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but was unable to.

“That is why I am able to tell you about my pain. This... this has always been the case, ever since we fought at the Tower. It’s...” a shuddering breath, “it’s hard to remember it all, right now. Because of this.” Playmaker raised his left arm, indicating his duel disc and the black shadow around it. “It’s hard to feel what I felt back then. But. Having an argument with you actually helps.”

“Seriously?” Revolver swallowed the lump in his throat. “Having a fight with me?”

Playmaker’s smile was somewhat mischievous. Revolver’s first thought was that he would do anything for that smile.

“I just wish we could find common ground.”

Revolver wanted to say they would never, not until Playmaker would discard his naïve ideals, not until he would accept Revolver’s views. But just like how he was unable to step back and away from Playmaker, he was also unable to continue the argument. Playmaker must have felt something odd, the fact that there was no reprisal, so he raised his head at him. Now that passion for his righteousness wasn’t fueling him, Playmaker realized how close they were. His eyes widened, and just as he moved to step away, Revolver grabbed his elbow, held him in place.

He will not let him go.

“Umm...” J’s voice was hurried. “Not to interrupt you two, but there is trouble.”

Pain spiked behind Revolver’s eyes and he closed them against it. His head thrummed to the rhythm of his heartbeat, white-hot and blinding. His hold loosened, and he fell back against Borreload Dragon’s knee. Someone reached for him, grabbed his arm and called his name, but it was a blur. His skin felt uncomfortable and prickly where he was touched, even though it was only virtual reality and illusion. He felt his throat and lungs rumble in a groan.

“The monsters are coming!” J’s voice was like a bullet through his mind, laser-focused, it stung him, made him look up.

What little he could see through the spots swarming his vision was despairing. Monsters, clawed, winged and burly, built themselves from the grey, blotched, ever-changing data up. As if they were born from the ground itself. He could feel wind in his face, a shriek on it, and then the pulsating metal disappeared from behind him as Borreload Dragon charged against the Corruptors without being ordered.

Debris fell from the ceiling and the walls that were barely big enough to give space to the dragon as it slashed the creatures to bits and pieces. The creaking metal and the keening gurgle of the Corruptors hurt his ear. He swore he could feel all the veins in his head like barbed wires.

A hand between his shoulder blades was holding his body up as he sat on the ground at the edge of the data-flow. His hearing cleared before his vision did. Somewhere behind the noise of Borreload Dragon’s fight, he could make out Playmaker’s voice next to him.

“–Headache? For how long?”

He shook his head in case the duelist was waiting for an answer. Not like it could be considered as one, but at least he was listening.

“Have you seen a doctor?”

Revolver grunted. “I have three on the yacht.” And two nosy ones who are voluntary nurses, he added as a thought only, because even that one sentence ended up being scratchy and quiet despite his will.

He could feel Playmaker jump beside him when a bigger Corruptor disintegrated into data right next them. Revolver looked up, squinted into the darkness of the sewers where sparks and beams of light flew. Borreload Dragon was merciless, its full weight was thrown against the Corruptors that had no chance against it. Even their numbers weren’t worrying, because Borreload Dragon slashed, growled, crushed, trashed; the whole of the sewers rumbled under its attacks. Under the Dragon’s weight, the corrupted data yielded into unrecognizable mass. They were only blotches on the floor against the vehemence. Wet splashes. Powerless victims.

He had to destroy the Corruptors before they reached them. Before they reached Playmaker. He had to protect him. Protect the others. Protect the whole of Link Vrains.

Borreload Dragon’s roar was thorned noise in his mind.

He held a hand against his mask, pushed it to his temple.

Playmaker’s eyes were wild and desperate. He paid attention to Revolver only.

Behind him, there was a Corruptor. Fanged maw opened for a meal.

Revolver pushed Playmaker to the side, held his left arm up against the Corruptor to sink its teeth into.

There was a crunch.

Someone cried out.

And because his throat felt sore, he realized it was him.

He felt the ground rumble. The Corruptor was crushed under Borreload Dragon’s feet. Its maw that still hanged off his arm without a body melted.

Borreload Dragon trashed in uncontrollable rage trying to find the source of his master’s pain even after destroying everything in its way. Its claw slashed the ground at Revolver’s right. Its tail collided to the wall beside Playmaker.

He reached out with his right, his fingers curled into a fist and he dismissed Borreload Dragon from the field. The fighting stopped.

People were talking to him, but the meanings were lost. The nerve endings in his left arm were lit on fire. Something moved under his skin. There was a movement by his left, black, green and yellow, so he pulled his arm against him.

“Don’t.” He wheezed, and the movement stopped. In the wake of a new pain, his headache subsided, and as he looked up he was met with Playmaker’s wide eyes, with the same stare he saw before, when Soulburner was injured. His shoulder rose and fell with the breaths he took.

Revolver reached for his shoulder to shake him out of an incoming panic attack, but Playmaker shoved his hand away.

“What are you doing?!” Playmaker’s voice was shaking by its edge from repressed emotions. “You, and Soulburner, and all the others, just what the hell are you doing?!”

The question was odd, too emotional and too personal. It was unlike Playmaker, but ever since they were trapped in here, none of them were really acting like themselves. It was the nerves, maybe. Or the unfamiliar situation they all found themselves in.

Because no answer came, Playmaker’s face twisted, he struggled to keep his emotions inside. Revolver wasn’t sure when it was he last saw him with such an openly vulnerable expression. Maybe when they were fighting against the Ignises. Maybe when he had to strike down Kusanagi Shoichi. Or, when he had to see Soulburner disintegrate into data.

“We all have our reasons, Playmaker.” Revolver kept his voice to a soft, calculated tone. That was all he could do while keeping his pain at bay. “And you have no right to question me about mine.”

What could he even say, when his reasons were all jumbled up in his heart. Something as twisted and ugly as his feelings should stay locked deep down inside and never see the light of day.

Playmaker was ready to refute him, but a wet gurgling sound stopped him, made them both look further ahead into the sewer to see some more grey data reforming itself into monsters. Revolver was about to raise his arm up to summon his companion to fight when J’s voice stopped him.

“Don’t even think about it!” The sudden sternness of his uncanny acquaintance made him wonder if J was older than all of them. “You gave too much power to your monster and it almost trampled you when it went berserk. Don’t summon it!”

“Do not dare order me around.”

“Do you want to kill Playmaker and yourself?!”

Playmaker rose to his feet and stood in front of Revolver to be a living wall between him and the Corruptors, all staunch muscle and swift determination.

“Come, Decode Talker!”

The monster appeared from blue, purple and golden grid lines, a proud and menacing presence that was able to keep any opposing force at bay.

The suffocating miasma descended upon them like cinders after an eruption. Revolver could feel his throat constrict as he tried to breathe through it. Even the Corruptors weren’t immune; they were destroyed as soon as they came into contact with the black smoke.

Playmaker’s knees buckled under the force of it. Decode Talker rushed forward, and the few Corruptors that stood back were slashed to nothing by its sword. It only took moments, but it was still too long. Playmaker raised his hands to his throat in a desperate attempt to get air into his lungs. His mouth was open in a silent cry, his shoulders were pulled up.

Revolver jumped up, the sudden rise dizzied him but he supported himself on the wall before he would fall back down. “Dismiss it!” He said, not unlike an order, and Playmaker obeyed, although not his words but his instincts and limit instead. Decode Talker was slow to disappear, as if he wanted to leave the duelists suffocating for as long as it could, but then the air cleared and they could breathe again.

They both panted to resupply their lungs with the much needed oxygen. Playmaker more so, than Revolver. He was still shivering as his legs nearly failed in holding his weight up under the strain of the miasma. The clank of Revolver’s boot echoed through the sewer as he took a step closer. His heart was troubled, so he had to ask, even though he might regret it later.

 “Why didn’t you summon Borreload Furious Dragon? That monster would not hurt you.”

Playmaker’s stare was stubborn and dark. And then, Revolver understood. And the realization was worse than falling into a frozen lake. They were both silent, Playmaker in defiance, Revolver in disbelief. The quiet was broken by J, in the end, and he gave a useless, but uncharacteristically sad explanation.

“Playmaker is the one making his own monsters hurt him. Unconsciously though.”

It wasn’t like Revolver was unable to understand it. J kept saying it, and he knew as well what such deep agony could make a person do. He wasn’t questioning the reasons, nor was he judging Playmaker for his actions. Still, the realization made him uneasy and unsure.

Revolver stepped closer once Playmaker’s shivering subsided and he was able to stand straight again. As if talking to a spooked animal, as if he was worried Playmaker would flee from the smallest of noises, he purposefully kept his voice quiet, private.

“We will get out of here. Then” he paused for a moment, waited for Playmaker to completely focus on him, “will you allow me to help you?”

Playmaker’s eyebrows quivered. His lips opened a fraction, then closed again. Revolver followed the movement with his eyes.

No answer came, but the way Playmaker was looking at him gave him hope that he at least debated asking for help. Playmaker’s eyes lowered and fell on his left arm. The duelist sighed but did not look away.

“Does it hurt?” he murmured unwilling to disturb the quiet that fell around them.

Revolver followed his sight. His lower arm was drained of color, it was greyed to the same hue as the Corruptors. If he wanted to liken it to anything, it seemed to be turned into stone. Except his nerves were definitely in working order.

“A bit, yes.” He decided it was useless trying to tough it out. “Less so if I am not moving it.”

“Can you?”

“Yes, I have feeling in it.”

“Any other sensations?”

Revolver sighed. “Playmaker...”

“Any other sensations?” He repeated with a bit more force.

“A tingle. As if something is moving under the coding.”

Playmaker grew more alarmed. “Is it spreading?”

“It does not seem so.”

“Digging deeper then?”

Revolver refused to flinch. “Maybe.”

“It was different for Soulburner.”

“Yes, it was.” Revolver agreed.

There was a momentary pause, then, “Does your head still hurt?”

Revolver blinked, confused how the conversation suddenly turned into an interrogation. “A little.”

“Does it hurt often?”

Another sigh. “Playmaker, it is not important.”

“It is!” Playmaker refused to budge. “Tell me.”

“It is nothing new.” He ended up saying, but that was no consolation for the other. “I tend to get headaches, so do not worry about it.”

“This last one seemed to be pretty bad.”

“I told you, do not wo–“

“But I do worry!”

Revolver’s teeth clicked together as he closed his mouth.

“I do worry.” Playmaker repeated, although softer. His eyes shone with new light. “I worry for you. And I want to cling to this feeling for as long as I can. While I can. Before this, too, disappears behind the black smoke.”

“Then hold onto the feeling and I swear I will not abandon you.”

Playmaker took a deep breath. Then another. After that, he nodded, and Revolver felt as if something was right again in the world.

“...evol... ver-sa... ma.”

Sudden static transmitted from Revolver’s duel disc, and they both looked at it in alarm.

“...Revolver... –sama.”

“Revolver...! Hey, Revolver! ...Playmaker!”

Under the white noise, Spectre’s and Soulburner’s voices were clearly distinguishable. Revolver raised his left arm in front of him, careful and slow so not to jostle it too much.

“Spectre, is that you?”

Playmaker stared at the duel disc in wonder. His face must have been a mirror of his own.

“Revolver-sama!” Relief rushed through Spectre’s voice. “...Finally I reach... ... ou. Where ...re you?”

“Is Playmaker ...ith you...?” Soulburner cut into the line, although his side wasn’t too clear yet either.

“Yes, he is with me.” Revolver glanced at the other, and he could see the barest hint of relief in his eyes. “We are in the sewer levels underground. How did you reach us? Communications are still down.”

“We got ...elp from Kusanagi-san’s younge... brother.” Soulburner supplied.

“Kusanagi Jin?” That was a shock. Even Playmaker took a step closer in disbelief.

“Pleas... send ov... your coordinates. ...E are ...oing to get yo...u.”

“The connection seems to be cutting out.” Revolver murmured into the intercom. He wasn’t even sure if the others will get his messages at all. “Will you receive the transferred data?”

“We can ...hear you just ...f...ine.”

“Revolver-sama ...ease send over you ...oordinates.”

Revolver pulled up the menu on his duel disc and found it in the same state as before. The interface was heavily corrupted and he could barely make out the texts and graphics, so he transferred their position to Spectre completely on muscle memory. To his surprise, the pop-up message of successful data transfer showed up before it fell away into polygons.

“I received ...t. We wi... be there shortly.”

The static fizzled out and the line went silent.

Playmaker raised a hand to his chin in thought. “What did they mean they got help from Kusanagi-san’s little brother?”

Revolver was curious about that as well. Ever since Bohman was defeated, Kusanagi Jin’s health rapidly got better. Thanks to the Light Ignis unknowingly deleting the boy’s memory of the Lost Incident, he was able to live a full life at his older brother’s side. Kusanagi Jin was supposed to be kept away from the network, because Kusanagi Shoichi feared it might trigger something in the boy again. Something else might have happened to warrant such a change of heart.

They only had to wait for a few minutes before the ground above them started to rumble.

“...evolver-sama.”

Revolver raised his arm again to talk into the intercom.

“We are here, Spectre.” He watched dust fall from the ceiling. “None of us can summon our monsters so you will have to get us out.”

“...Roger.”

Revolver stepped back until he was able to lean against the wall. Playmaker followed and settled beside him. There was barely a breath between them, and Revolver hated how aware he was of this.

The rumbling returned and gained a rhythm similar to a heartbeat as a duel monster – or two, who knows – tried to dig down to the sewers. If they had all their mods at their disposal, getting out would be as easy as child-play. Alas, this unknown intruder that messed up the whole interface of Link Vrains really made their life harder.

Cracks appeared on the ceiling, and soon the debris fell and let that pale light in that was able to reach the old Link Vrains through the heaps of faulty codes. A pair of claws struck the cracks and opened them further. Revolver shielded himself with an arm, but the rocks and dust falling barely reached them. When he glanced toward Playmaker, he saw the duelist more in front of him rather than at his side, protecting him from stray debris. A sentiment he found useless but still warmed his heart.

“Playmaker! Revolver!”

The voice came from above them this time, instead of the comms. Through the hole in the ceiling, they were able to see fire and the maw of Salamangreat Heatleo, soon followed by Soulburner as the duelist peeked through. “Are you two alright?”

Instead of answering, Playmaker summoned his D-board, and Revolver did the same. Soulburner stepped back from the hole to give them space to glide outside.

Even though the old Link Vrains was not a welcoming sight, Revolver was relieved to get out of the sewers. Even after the rooms expanded to house the visions and Borreload Dragon, it still felt constricting, especially when they never knew where a Corruptor or that unknown adversary would show up.

Sand kicked up and then almost immediately settled as they landed on solid ground. There wasn’t even a breeze even though a datastorm was still raging somewhere above them. Spectre, Soulburner and Blue Maiden were waiting for them above ground, and for a first glance, they were uninjured. Revolver specifically searched for greyed code on their avatars to see if they were harmed by Corruptors, but they were as colorful as intended. Even Spectre with his white butler outfit was the same vibrant hue as always. All of them had their companion monsters by their side. Salamangreat Heatleo was the one to dig them out, being the biggest and burliest among them. Marincess Marbled Rock and Sunvine Thrasher were standing guard beside their masters, watching the horizon for enemies. Soulburner ran to them right away as they landed.

“What happened? Are you alright? Playmaker?” Soulburner eyed with the duelist warily, remembering how he was ignored for the better part of their alliance, but this time Playmaker allowed a tiny nod after a pause before looking away.

“Revolver-sama, your arm!”

“What the hell!”

“What is that?”

Like a hawk, Spectre was examining him even from a few steps away, and when he was about to reach out, Revolver angled his body so his left arm was behind him. Spectre realized he almost breached a boundary he wasn’t supposed to, so he straightened his posture, but his face was pleading. Revolver was unable to fight Spectre when he looked like someone just denied him a taste of his birthday cake. He sighed.

“Let us find shelter to exchange information.”

o-o-O-O-o-o

The nearest building they found was just two lone walls among ruined bricks and rocks in the middle of nowhere. They settled into the corner the two still intact walls made to give the illusion of safety even though they knew whatever was hunting them could just appear from under their feet. Still, it was better for their mind than to have a long conversation in the open space of the sand dunes. Soulburner and Blue Maiden were nearest to the corner, while Playmaker was furthest away, almost outside as if ready to flee.

To their chagrin, Revolver wanted to hear what happened to the three others first. He needed all the information as soon as possible to start forming theories, and for him, telling his own experiences seemed redundant.

When they separated, Spectre, Soulburner and Blue Maiden fell into a ravine rather than the sewers. Which was an oddity in itself, considering this part of Link Vrains had no natural ravines coded into it at all. They were trapped inside, and they were unable to summon their D-boards to fly up and out of the ravine so they decided to follow it to get out. Spectre was the first one to notice the looping graphics around them as they were getting further and further ahead, and the party stopped to discuss other ideas to escape and find Playmaker and Revolver. That was when the visions appeared.

“It was honestly very creepy.” Soulburner shuddered. “We kept hearing voices, laughs of kids at first, but then there were other things, and weird grainy forms were running around. I thought I had gone crazy.”

“At least we quickly concluded they weren’t ghosts.” Blue Maiden added. She had been oddly quiet ever since they joined back together, and Revolver could see her snuck wary glances Spectre’s way. “But these apparitions kept coming, and we followed them in hopes they will lead us out.”

Their experience seemed to be similar. Visions appeared for them with barely recognizable people in them, and they only realized much later that they might be part of their memories. At first they were random, but as they progressed, they saw memories they experienced together. And considering where Spectre stood at the start of their acquaintance, there was no wonder why Blue Maiden started to suddenly be wary with him again.

“What happened after the visions stopped?” Revolver asked them, and the three exchanged glances, which was almost confusing.

“Kusanagi Shoichi contacted us through Soulburner’s duel disc.” Spectre said, and the others nodded. “And then the path opened up and we were able to fly out of the ravine.” Revolver hummed. It seemed they did not meet with their enemy, or at least they did not notice it.

“How did he contact you when communications are down?” Revolver continued, then turned to Soulburner. “You mentioned it was with Kusanagi Jin’s help.”

Soulburner shrugged, a little helpless. “Don’t look at me for answers, you know I am no good with this stuff.”

Spectre’s chuckle was nothing if not condescending.

“That’s an understatement.”

“Oi!”

“But anyway, we actually don’t know more either. Kusanagi Shoichi did not disclose much information about how he was able to reach us. And although he is an exceptional hacker, I doubt it was purely his own skill.”

“Thanks for the roundabout compliment, I guess.” Kusanagi Shoichi said from Soulburner’s duel disc. He was still in active contact with them even though the communication system was definitely not working. Revolver wondered if it was similar to how J was contacting him, but he had his doubts. “When the Link Vrains accessibility went down, I did everything I could to at least reach Soulburner, but I wasn’t able to. Then...” there was a short pause, “then Jin came in and did something, and now here we are.”

Did something? That was as vague as it could get.

“Is Kusanagi Jin still there with you?” Revolver asked, but he wasn’t expecting as harsh a reply as he got.

“Yes, but leave him out of the conversation!” Kusanagi Shoichi snapped, and even Soulburner was surprised by the tone. “Please,” he added.

Revolver stepped on the break.

“I understand.”

“The point is, I am here, and I will try to help you get out.” Kusanagi Shoichi continued a bit softer. “I will see if I can make a gate for you all to log out at least.”

“We appreciate that.” Revolver quietly noted.

“But let me ask. Playmaker, are you there?” Playmaker standing beside him visibly stiffened upon hearing his name being called by his previous partner. Wide-eyed, he stared at Soulburner’s duel disc. “Are you alright? Are you unharmed? ...Please answer me.”

Playmaker’s shoulders rose just a tiny bit, and his expression changed. His brows furrowed, his eyelids lowered, and his mouth was pulled into a hard line. Yet again, shame was discoloring his features.

“Kusanagi-san.” It was Soulburner who ended up answering, and strangely, his voice was hard and sure. “I will ask the same as you did. Please leave Playmaker out of the conversation for now.”

The expression Playmaker watched Soulburner with was, for Revolver’s eyes, a mix of surprise and gratitude.

“...Alright.”

Soulburner raised his wrist further up. “What’s the situation outside?”

“...People are confused, as you can guess.” There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “No one can log out, but also, no one can access Link Vrains at all. No one can log in and even hacking in seems impossible. I contacted Zaizen Akira, but it seems not even SOL Technologies can reach into the network. Even the physical servers are locked.”

“That’s odd.” Blue Maiden joined in. “Last time players were prevented to log out, Bohman didn’t stop other players to log in. This complete lock-out is rather strange. What is the point of it then?”

“It may be to prevent a heavy data stream.” Revolver added, because that was the only possibility why a network was completely halted. “As for the reason, we have too little information to figure that out.”

“Right.” Spectre quipped. “Since we exhausted that line of thought, I feel there is a change of topic in order.” Teal eyes turned to Revolver questioningly. “Will you please tell us what exactly happened to your arm, Revolver-sama?”

All eyes turned to him expectantly, and Revolver felt like he was interrogated again.

“We were attacked by a group of Corruptors and one of them bit me before it was destroyed by Borreload Dragon.” He did not go into detail even though Spectre looked like he wanted to know more. “Part of the Corruptor’s data seem to linger in the coding.”

“That didn’t happen with me.” Soulburner frowned, and as if he just realized something, he stepped closer. “Let me see!”

Revolver angled his left side away from him to stop the duelist from reaching out.

“Even if you were fine before, you should not touch their coding so freely.”

Soulburner was undeterred.

“It must hurt like hell!” He did not halt his march, so Revolver was forced to stop him with a hand against the gem on his chest.

“Soulburner, calm down!” Blue Maiden tried to be the voice of reason, but Soulburner almost literally burned holes into Revolver’s eyes.

“It does hurt, but not as badly as you think.” Revolver’s words were only partially enough to hold the duelist back who was still pushing against his palm. “It will not help us if you are infected as well.”

It took a few moments of staring before Soulburner finally backed down and Revolver could lower his hand. Soulburner still seemed ready to jump the moment Revolver showed the smallest signs of discomfort. This kind of stubborn care from the duelist took him by surprise.

“It might fade by itself” was what he said even though that was the least possible of the solutions. “But if not, I will cure the infection when we have a working interface again. Do not worry.”

To deter attention, he decided to share their experiences with the others. He told them they also saw visions of their past as they progressed through the sewers, but he purposefully left out the details of each. All of them were much too personal, and they only concerned Playmaker and him, no one else. When he mentioned that the person whose voice they heard from the datastorm appeared for them, attention on him became almost uncomfortable.

“Who was it? What did it look like?”

“For me, it appeared in a familiar form, but it might be able to appear as anyone.” Silence followed his declaration, and he could see Blue Maiden eyeing them all, watching whether either of them would step forward and announce they were just a fake in a duelist’s body. Revolver couldn’t fault her for it.

“I will ask all of you to be careful. If it can see our memories, it also knows all of our identities too.” Revolver continued. “We do not know yet if it can influence the real world in any way.”

He saw no point in sharing further details of their experiences, so everyone fell into contemplating silence. He observed all of them for a few moments, then he excused himself, told them he would check the area for any signs of Corruptor activity, then stepped around the walls and further away to watch the horizon.

His arm burned. His head twinged. He was running on autopilot ever since they joined back together with the other three, and it was increasingly complicated to keep his focus for longer than ten minutes. As he stood there on the sand, staring ahead, it felt as if his knees were locked to keep his weight up. Though he knew he was only in an avatar right now, his brain gave it similar reaction as it would in reality. He could feel his fingertips shivering lightly as his nerves were eaten away by the Corruptor’s infection.

“J,” he almost sighed. “How long do you intend to eavesdrop?”

There was a nervous laughter, and then his voice followed up.

“Should have known you would notice.”

“You have not severed the line.”

“Yeah...” Revolver was too tired to figure out the emotions behind J’s words, so he just let him talk. That wasn’t too hard to do anyway. “I thought I would learn more of your situation if I kept listening, since you are a bit secretive. By that I mean very. I cannot make heads or tails of what exactly is happening in your world. Well. Worlds. I haven’t seen anything like this before, and believe me, I have seen some odd things. But I want to keep observing, because that is the only thing I can do right now.”

Revolver gave no answer, so as expected, J continued.

“It would be so much easier if I could just go there myself!”

Thank the heavens he couldn’t do that.

“But I promise I will do everything in my power to help!”

“Promise, hm?”

“I...” J was strangely hesitant, which made Revolver glance towards his wrist. “Yes, I promise.”

“Why are you so willing to help us?”

There was a pause, and he knew J was trying to find the right words to articulate his thoughts on this matter, no doubt keeping his words as cryptic as possible.

“Atonement, maybe?” That hit too close to home. “Because I have the power to, so I want to use it for good. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” he replied. “It does.”

There was the sound of light steps behind him, and when he angled his head, he saw a black, slender form approaching at the edge of his vision. Playmaker walked up to his side and settled at his left. He couldn’t help but watch the duelist, eyesight always following his movements, the graceful form that held the power to save the whole of Link Vrains still. He had some confidence to his movements now despite the obvious exhaustion, a sureness to his expression and strictness to his shoulders. Revolver wasn’t sure why, but it seemed Playmaker was getting closer to his old self bit by bit.

“Thank you,” Playmaker whispered. “For not telling them everything.”

“It’s only for you to decide whether you want to share with anyone what happened.”

Playmaker nodded, and Revolver thought that was all he wanted to say. He let his mind clear in the quiet that followed.

“Revolver.” He tilted his head to the side as a sign he was listening. “You said this person appeared to you in a familiar form. Who was it?” There was a pause before Playmaker added more quietly. “Your father?”

The assumption confused him, but he shook his head.

“He appeared as you.”

Playmaker’s eyes widened just a fraction.

“How did you know it wasn’t me?”

Revolver did not have the mental capacity to filter his words.

“He had no soul. He was nothing like you.”

Another pause, and Revolver took a few moments to rest his eyes. The old Link Vrains was dark and faded, but even that little light was bothering him now. He debated just activating his visor’s anti-glare protection, but that would just rouse questions in the others.

Playmaker’s voice pulled him back to the present.

“For me, he appeared as you.”

He angled his head toward Playmaker again in thought. “I see.”

He did not ask. He dared not ask what happened, and whether Playmaker knew he was dealing with an impostor. When they met up again, he remembered Playmaker was on guard with him, and that made him wonder. He could feel him fidget just a little, as if he had more to say, but Revolver decided not to force it. If he wanted to share his thoughts, he could do so, in his own time.

He watched the horizon, the line where the dirty brown sand met the dark blue sky.

It was odd how there was no wind here while a breeze was continuously blowing down in the sewers. It made the old Link Vrains seem almost hollow.

Revolver’s thoughts slowed down as he felt there was some important detail slipping from his grasp and he couldn’t quite tell what it was. He raised his head to watch the datastorm swirling high above them. Not even a single gust of wind reached them. How come they had been up here for the better half of an hour and no Corruptors, nor hidden adversaries came at their throats. Wherever they went, their opponents followed like how the wind pushed around fallen leaves during autumn.

A lone thought formed at the back of his mind, and he lowered his head to contemplate his duel disk. Playmaker beside him found his silence odd, and tipped his head to the side in question.

“Revolver? Is something the matter?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer, but he raised his sight slowly up to the other. Vibrant green like a leaf no wind can separate from the tree.

Wind. Storm.

“I have to try something out.” He said in a rush, then turned around to head back to the others. Playmaker followed, curious. “But first, I will have to make a few adjustments.”

If the person locking them in wanted to prevent heavy data flow through the network, he will have to make a storm to stop its plans.

On the other side of the wall, Blue Maiden seemed to be in a reluctant conversation with Spectre, with Soulburner watching them silently from the side. As Revolver and Playmaker approached, the chat was halted, and all eyes turned toward him. Waiting for what he wanted to say, as if his mere presence commanded attention. Revolver’s stomach quivered under it.

“Blue Maiden, I have to ask you a question.” He stepped up to her, and she turned his way as a sign she was listening. “When we all got separated and you saw visions of the past, did you ever see visions of only yourself?”

“What do you have in mind?” she frowned.

“Specifically, did you see visions of yourself where either Spectre or Soulburner was not present?”

She fidgeted just a little when the question got too personal. Revolver was patient.

“There was a memory of when I met Miyu-chan for the first time.”

“Sugisaki Miyu? The person whose data the Water Ignis was modelled after.”

She definitely didn’t like the phrasing, considering the glare she shot Revolver with, but still answered.

“Yes.”

“So the extracted memories all concerned the victims of the Lost Incident.”

Her expression became confused, then worried.

“Yes. They did.”

He raised his head to watch the datastorm yet again.

“Spectre.”

“Yes, Revolver-sama.” He was by his side immediately.

Revolver pulled up the interface on his duel disc and extracted the data fragments he gathered. The vibrant blue-green data particles floated above his palm as he held it out towards his knight.

“Hold onto the data fragments for me. Run a scan on it to make sure no Corruptor virus infects your duel disc.”

Spectre did as was told, although his eyebrows were pulled into a frown and he eyed his master with suspicion.

“Revolver.” Playmaker stepped beside him. “What are you planning?”

“I will summon a datastorm myself. If the reason we are unable to log out is that the data material is stagnant, then creating another storm might reset the configuration and give Kusanagi Shoichi the chance to create a gate.”

Playmaker’s mouth opened in disbelief, but Soulburner’s orange-blue mop of hair appeared behind him.

“Can it work?!”

“I will give it a try.” Revolver’s smirk was teasing. “What was it you said? Unglitch the system with another glitch?”

Soulburner almost went red in the face.

“But that--- was just---!” he sputtered.

Revolver eased away from his nerves. “I know. But it is something we can try anyway.”

Kusanagi Shoichi asked for a bit more time to prepare his coding, and Revolver used those few minutes to check his own mods on his interface, although the faulty graphics made it harder to see if all the codes were in working order. Then again, he didn’t exactly need the datastorm to contain a Cyberse card this time. He only needed the storm to jumpstart the data material and make wind blow in their favor.

As soon as Kusanagi Shoichi gave them the go, they walked into the open field. Revolver stood in front of them as the others watched his every movement. Spectre looked at him with a kind of expression that told him whatever Revolver was planning was not to his liking. But Spectre, bless his soul, always followed up his plans and let Revolver do whatever crazy moves it required. He was not someone to question his actions, but enable him at every step.

“Be ready for anything.” Revolver warned, then, with rugged movement and a hiss of pain, he raised his arm and ran the program that summoned the datastorm.

It always filled him with power and pride. This code was his own despite the Dark Ignis mocking him for copying his moves. When he realized he was able to understand and manipulate the Ignis Algorithm, he instantly recognized its uses, and soon enough, he was able to code a datastorm summoning program. At that time, he had yet to fully comprehend its uses, but he already saw the potential within it. Felt it. The Ignis were able to summon datastorms. He was able to summon datastorms. And now this unknown adversary was the same, and the biggest taunt he could give was to pull his own storm right in the middle of its own.

Wind picked up, caught his coat and his hair, pulled the sand into the air around him. Blue, purple and shining white data descended from above. The raging storm noticed him, turned and reached out for him as if for a long-missed friend. Revolver held his hand high, stretched to grab onto the wind that fell towards him, and when his fingers touched the gust, he commanded.

“Rage, datastorm!”

On his behest the wind enveloped them, and soon enough they stood in the eye of a storm, breeze barely catching their clothes in the calm middle. The white particles of the wind gathered around Revolver’s hand as if it wanted to become a card, but there was no data to create a Cyberse in here. It was just raw source code, wild, untamed and incomprehensible.

And then, there in the momentary tranquility, they heard it. A shriek, shocked, scared and confused, resonating through them all in the quiet of the storm. The other four covered their ears, but Revolver kept listening, kept watching. There was this thought in the back of his mind and it was so unlikely, so impossible it might as well be true.

The shrieking went on, and when it grew in pitch, the datastorm slipped from his hold and the wind changed direction. It caught them, pushed the duelists to the side, almost knocked them off their feet. The gusts blew toward the sky, picked up rocks and ruins and pulled them into the air to grind them into dust.

“It’s working!” Kusanagi Shoichi’s voice could be heard over Soulburner’s comm line. “The codes are going through. But it’s too dangerous, get out of there! Now!”

With little difficulty they summoned their D-boards and flew towards the west where they could see the wind ease out just enough for their boards to remain afloat on route. They were almost knocked down by debris and one badly-timed brick almost pushed Soulburner off his board, but once the wind wasn’t actively trying to off them to their deaths, they were able to look behind.

The storm behind them was incredible. It split the air in half, and connected the ground and the sky together in an eternally swirling spiral of purple and bright yellow. Somewhere under its surface Revolver was able to notice ever-changing and never-existing bodies of Cyberse monsters that had no chance of every being born. The forms collided, they were destroyed and then came together to be formed anew, as if locked in an eternal cycle of death and rebirth.

The shrieking continued, its pitch growing high and then deep much akin to an old radio being tuned.

“Are you sure this was a good idea?!” Soulburner yelled to be heard over the shrieking. He still had one hand over an ear.

No, he was sure it was a bad idea, but it was at least working.

“Kusanagi Shoichi, the gate!” He demanded. His voice was not drowned out by the one on the wind.

“I’m on it, give me a few!” He swore over the line, but he was barely heard.

The storm in front of them lurched forward, and the wind blew in an unnatural pattern towards its sides from the middle, as if it was ready to throw something up from its inside. Shadows appeared on that exact spot, and the air solidified.

The storm parted and a humanoid figure was floating in the middle.

It appeared as a male, not older than either of them. Its body was covered by a base dark body suit, as if the avatar was yet to be fully decided upon. Its hair and face was, however, very detailed. A teenager’s face, small nose and stormy gray eyes covered by dark green fringe. The hair was brushed up at the nape into spiked hair with a tiny curl just at the end of the tuft.

“Give it back!”

It raised its hand towards them.

He raised his hand towards them.

“Who is that?!”

“An A.I.?”

“No.”

Revolver recognized the boy. He had seen him as a child, and he had seen footages of him when he searched for more details on the past.

He had seen him when he watched security camera footages of the car accident the Wind Ignis induced.

“He is Tsuruda Kei.” Revolver needed all his will to keep his voice from shaking. “He is the Origin of the Wind Ignis.”

“What?!”

The others yelled in unison, but the storm, with Tsuruda Kei in the middle, threw itself at them. All duelists steered their boards away and flew towards the west with the raging wind behind them.

“How is that possible?” Soulburner demanded. “Didn’t he die?”

Revolver grit his teeth together. He had no answers to give.

Debris flew past them as the wind was catching up. The shrieking was never-ending as the boy was chasing them and demanded they return whatever it was he needed. Revolver’s ears rang. The edge of his vision was filled with white spots as he tried to steer his D-board away from obstacles and away from the ghosts of the past that haunted him.

“Continue going, I am opening the gate!” Kusanagi Shoichi yelled, and a mechanical ring appeared in front of them in the sky. Its outer edges were chipped and broken, but its inside was pristine. Behind it was a bright wormhole leading into the coding where they would be able to log out.

Blue Maiden and Soulburner were the first to fly through. They didn’t slow their pace in fear the wind might be able to follow them further. Spectre and Playmaker were next, and they cautiously glanced behind them to see how far away their chaser was.

Revolver collided against an invisible wall just before he would enter the wormhole.

Both Spectre and Playmaker halted in the air.

“Revolver?”

Revolver pushed both palms against the glassy but very solid surface in front of him that stretched inside the edges of the ring.

Upon hearing Playmaker’s voice, Blue Maiden and Soulburner turned around as well.

“What’s going on?” she asked when she noticed Revolver still floating at the other side.

“Log out, everyone!” Kusanagi Shoichi yelled at them.

“Kusanagi-san!” Soulburner shouted. “Revolver is still outside the gate!”

“He should just enter already then! I can’t keep the code running for long!”

Revolver pushed against the wall, but it did not yield under the pressure. He glanced at his hands, asymmetric due to the grey hue his left arm gained. The Corruptor’s virus in his avatar was preventing him to go through the code.

“Log out already!” He stared at the others and shouted over the approaching wind.

“What?! No!”

“No way!”

“Revolver!

“Revolver-sama!”

“Spectre!” He looked straight at his knight. “Initiate forced log-out sequence!”

Spectre flinched under the command and Revolver could see realization dawn on him upon his master’s previous actions. He pulled up his duel disc’s interface.

“No, Revolver!”

Playmaker already turned his D-board back and accelerated towards him.

“Playmaker.” Revolver watched his rival, his obsession approach. “You are not alone. Remember, you have connections left.”

Playmaker’s eyes widened in horror.

“Initiate sequence!”

“Revol–!”

All four duelists disappeared in a blue flash, and the gate under Revolver’s hand vanished.

Solid wind twined itself around his wrists and jerked him off his D-board. The wind coiled itself around his ankles and waist and held him in the air. Tsuruda Kei appeared in front of his face from above, upside down. Revolver was unable to see anything but him through the white spots in his vision.

“Give me back my life!”

The wind squeezed him, the tendrils snaked around his chest and pushed the air out of his lungs.

“Kogami Ryoken!”

The white in his vision turned black under the pressure of the wind.