Chapter Text
“You have arrived. Sand unfurls in waves around the travelers, spilling over each horizon like the endless ocean. Dawn stains it pale pink, but more vibrant streaks of scarlet taint the sky—the blood of adventurers who’ve journeyed here before. You wonder how life could endure in such a place, and a hot desert wind strikes you, buffeting clothing. Loose grains of sand sting exposed skin. Already, the sun is rising. You remember the warning of the Nomad: ‘The heat of daylight will conspire with your enemies—sap your strength; spark quarrels like brush-fires; draw misfortune to you like a plague of blood-drinking insects.’
“What do the travelers do? The party has five minutes to discuss.”
Ryou Bakura turned over a five-minute hour glass; stared at his friends with the impassive face of a Game Master. Across the table sat Yugi, Jounochi, Anzu, and Honda—the last of whom was fidgeting in his seat. Save for his own tools—notebook, laptop, pencil—Ryou had cleared the table to mimic the desolate desert landscape; the four miniatures of his friend’s characters looked especially small and lonesome, bunched together near their side of the table.
“We can’t keep going blindly forward,” said Yugi—half-elf, a level nine Beast Tamer. “Not with the sun already rising.”
“And what, just wait around here?!” demanded Jounochi—human, a level eight Warrior. “There’s no cover or anything!”
“That Nomad could be an enemy, anyway,” Honda—human, a level eight Magic Gunman—added. “No way should we let his 'warning' keep us from our treasure!”’
“But we’re already weakened from that last fight,” pointed out Anzu—elf, a level nine Magician. “Let me recover some magic and I can heal everyone before we go wandering into some deadly desert. Look, Jounochi, you’re at half-health!”
“I don’t think the Nomad would mislead us,” Yugi added, with a glance at Ryou. Ryou stared impassively back. “He gave us supplies, too.”
“It’s pretty clear this is the final battle of the campaign,” Anzu added. “We can’t afford to charge in unprepared.”
“Three minutes,” Ryou interjected.
“We need a plan,” Yugi said.
“If we stop here, we’re gonna get attacked from behind!” Jounochi argued.
“We can’t let those monsters get the jump on us!” Honda agreed. “I say we keep moving!”
“Guys!” Anzu objected.
Yugi chewed his lip; glanced again at Ryou. After years of playing together, he felt confident that he knew Ryou’s play-style. Sometimes they used an online generator in place of a Game Master so that Ryou could adventure alongside them, but most of the time Ryou was their G.M. It wasn’t like Ryou to use an explicit warning—and later remind them of that warning in narration—as a red-herring. It was too transparent a trick. If he really wanted to ensnare them at this stage, he would’ve used a more clever ruse. The missing game board was also a tell—Ryou prided himself on the Monster World stages he created, and usually the party could glean some hints or direction from the construction of the board itself. The fact that Ryou has forgone it meant that he had something very special—and likely difficult—in store for this final battle.
Besides all that, the White Mage hadn’t yet appeared.
“Time,” Ryou announced. “Have the adventurers reached an agreement?”
Jounochi and Anzu glared at one another. It was Yugi who shook his head and sighed, “No...”
“Since the sun has just appeared above the horizon, a decision must be reached now. The Beast Tamer rolls for ‘staying put.’ The Warrior rolls for ‘moving forward,’” Ryou said, and scratched something down in his notebook.
Jounochi glared over at Yugi; Yugi sighed and picked up his dice. They rolled.
“07–a critical for the Warrior Jounochi.” Ryou jotted down the results. “By sheer force of his passionate fighting spirit, the Warrior convinces his comrades that they must keep moving. He and the Magic Gunman do not trust the Nomad’s warning, although the Beast Tamer and the Magician have known reservations.”
Anzu muttered something at Honda, who glared smugly back, and Ryou motioned for the miniatures to move forward.
“The Beast-Tamer calls upon Pao and Pokii to join the party,” Yugi said, and glanced at Ryou.
After a beat, Ryou modded. “As they are the Beast-Tamer’s oldest and closest familiars, the Beast-Tamer summons both Pao and Pokii without cost.”
Ryou brought out the corresponding miniatures and passed them to Yugi, who placed them beside his own character. Thanks, Ryou!
“You’re overreacting, Yuge,” Jounochi said, running a hand through his hair. “Just watch.”
“Time passes,” Ryou said. “The sun rises, and the heat becomes stifling. It’s dry—parching flesh and scorching sore eyes. The adventurers don’t speak unless necessary, and pass water-skins back and forth. There’s no sign of life among the burning sands. Instead of regaining HP through rest, the harsh environment drains you of it.”
“I knew we should’ve stayed put!” Anzu said.
“The sun is almost at its zenith when the adventurers are forced to stop. You can feel your strength ebbing, and are grateful for a small outcropping of rocks that provides shade. Among you, the Beast Tamers familiars are unaffected by the heat, but everyone else is exhausted. You must stop to rest during the hottest part of the day, or risk heat-stroke. Do you proceed?”
“We’ll stop,” Yugi said, and received no arguments.
“See?” Anzu hissed. “We’re in way worse shape now! I don’t even have the magic to get one of us back to max HP, let alone all of us!”
“No enemies so far, though,” Honda said. “So we’re a little worn out—no big deal. Better’n gettin’ ambushed if we’d waited back there!”
“Yeah, no one’d follow us into this desert—no way,” Jounochi added. “We’ve got—“
The table gave an ominous rattle, and Jounochi jumped; gave a strangled squeak. The table shook again—Ryou’s doing, a firm hit from below with one knee, and the Warrior’s miniature toppled.
“The sand dunes quake!” Ryou’s voice rose, and Honda yelped as the table gave one more tremendous heave. “The outcropping of rock splits open, revealing a pathway—do you enter?”
“Yes!” Jounochi shouted, and got a less-enthusiastic agreement from the other members of the party.
“The adventurers descend,” Ryou said, and brought out a comparably small stage. Half of it was enclosed, hidden from the players, but the open half appeared to be a standard ruin-scape. “Beneath the surface of the desert, you find the ruins of an ancient settlement. Sections have collapsed, but this portion seems to have been protected by the stones above it. You enter, and see no sign of life—or of a mechanism that would have allowed the pathway to open on its own.”
“Hello!” called Jounochi, and Anzu socked him in the arm.
“The Warrior’s call goes unanswered," Ryou narrated. "The light filtering in from the world above is dimmed by the dust filling the air, but the heat of the sun has also been tempered in the underground cavern. Something golden glints ahead—do you investigate?”
“Yes,” Yugi answered, with a glance at his comrades. “The Beast Tamer and his familiars lead the way.”
“The Warrior’s right beside him!” Jounochi added.
Ryou nodded. “You approach the glint.” He reached beneath the table, then, and his players all tensed. “You find—“
As impressive an artist and craftsman as Ryou was, the object he brought out clearly wasn’t his handiwork. It was heavy metal, shining golden despite the damages of time that had weathered its surface. A ring in shape, it had four sharp baubles dangling off it, and a place where a fifth seemed to have been snapped off by some trauma long ago.
“—an artifact. It seems like it may have great value, both for material wealth and magical power.” Ryou placed the object on the table, then said, “Footsteps sound on the passage down from the desert surface—hurried. What does each adventurer do?”
“Grab for the artifact!” Honda said immediately.
“Call up a simple defensive spell,” Anzu said.
“Draw my blade!” Jounochi said. “Honda, you got the artifact?”
“Yeah!” Honda replied.
And Yugi, quietly, said, “I move to greet the newcomer.”
Ryou’s mouth curved upwards; he knew he’d been seen through, at least that one little bit.
The White Mage was Ryou’s own character—a level thirteen Magician who joined the party whenever Ryou played alongside the others. But when Ryou was G.M., the White Mage would always make a cameo as an NPC—sometimes friend and sometimes foe, but always consistent with his general characterization; always the same White Mage Ryou. This campaign, they had met and befriended him in the very first scene, but not encountered him since then.
“The White Mage enters, dusty from his pursuit across the desert. He stumbles and falls to his knees, but cries out, ‘Brave Gunman, do not touch the artifact!’”
“Oh shit!” Honda yelped.
“The Magic Gunman already has the artifact in his hands,” Ryou said.
“I drop it! I drop it!” Honda cried, and Ryou nodded.
“The Magic Gunman drops the artifact, but it’s already begun to glow with a strange power. When it strikes the ground, it gives off a small shock of defensive magic.” He nodded to Anzu. “The Magician’s defensive spell protects the group, but the artifact continues to glow. An ominous aura fills the ruins.”
“I ask the White Mage what’s going on!” Yugi said, and Ryou inclined his head.
“The White Mage is out of breath, and waves off your question. He stands, then holds out his staff and preforms a level nine sealing spell!”
“Did it work?!” Honda demanded, and Ryou shook his head.
“The artifact seems to absorb the Mage’s white magic. The White Mage stumbles.”
“I run to support him!” Yugi said, and Ryou shot him a tiny smile.
“As the Beast Tamer lends his shoulder, the White Mage gasps out, ‘I tried... to catch up... It must not be allowed to escape!’ before losing consciousness.”
“No!” Jounochi cried. “Dude, we need more info than that! Don’t just pass out before—aah!”
Ryou rattled the table again, startling Jounochi and making the artifact and the miniatures jump. “The artifact’s glow is intensifying! What will you try?”
“If a level nine sealing spell didn’t work, my magic doesn’t stand a chance!” Anzu exclaimed.
“We retreat!” Yugi said.
“No way!” Jounochi argued. “We stay and fight! Whatever it is is escapin’ for sure, so we’ve gotta stop it here!”
“Our HP’s way too low, idiot!” Honda shouted.
“You’ve wasted your time arguing!” Ryou declared, and then reached forward to pick up the artifact. “Like the collective ghosts of those who once inhabited this ancient place, a violet miasma begins to flood from the artifact. It...”
Ryou’s eyes widened; his friends stared back, waiting with baited breath. Yet, instead of continuing, Ryou lowered the artifact. His hand hit the table with a soft thunk.
Yugi broke character first—“Ryou?”
Ryou’s eyes grew wider still, for a beat, flashing as if with reflections of things that weren’t there, and then they rolled back. His hand still on the artifact, he slumped forward; collapsed onto the table.
... ... ...
Shapes—shadows, black and gray and lavender and violet—obscured Ryou’s vision, flooding the space between him and the adventurers. The shadows enveloped him—he saw his friends' alarmed expressions; saw Yugi coming towards him; saw Honda’s mouth moving as he shouted something. He felt the artifact, cold and heavy as he grasped it with shaking fingers.
Then, blackness—it only lasted for a moment, but proved long enough for Ryou to think on where he might have gone wrong. When he’d decided upon the desert ruins for the site of the campaign’s final boss battle, he’d taken the liberty of borrowing a certain artifact from his father’s museum. The Ancient Egyptian exhibit it belonged to wouldn’t open for another month or so, anyhow.
It’s mere presence had kept him up the previous night. He’d dealt with spirits before, but the sensation of the Ring was so much stronger that he was almost disinclined to believe it. During the session, he’d had it hidden on his lap, waiting for the moment of reveal, and become aware of a heartbeat throbbing within the cool metal. His own body heat seemed to do little to dispel its eternal chill.
Maybe it’s a bit more cursed than I anticipated...
He only hoped he hadn’t lost his soul to it, just now.
Ryou blinked. It was hot, and his fingers curled into gritty sand as he flexed them. He looked up from the barren ground and saw, several yards ahead, ruins.
The stones had been worn away by harsh desert winds, leaving many buildings half-tumbled and the rest standing precariously on undermined foundations. It looked as though it had been abandoned for centuries, if not millennia—calling to mind the pictures he had seen at the museum, Ryou thought they were lucky to be intact at all. The dryness of the environment must’ve helped, he thought absently, and then pushed himself upright.
His clothing shifted strangely, and he looked down; felt his eyes widen. His jeans and were gone, replaced by the long white robes of his White Mage. He looked over; saw his character’s staff—his staff—lying beside him.
“Oh dear...”
Getting up was a slight struggle against the shifting sands, and Ryou staggered. Once up, he stooped to pick up the staff, examining the lovely craftsmanship. He’d slaved over each detail when designing it, but the littlest things—like the pattern etched into the crescent moon, at its top—had been impossible to carve into the tiny figurine. Yet they were present now. Ryou ran his thumb along them, remembering the night he had sketched them.
I don’t even... remember them this clearly... That was so long ago... and yet... here they are... Could this really be a hallucination?
Ryou shook his head lightly; glanced up at the sun, a blazing deity in the ancient desert sky. He walked—tentatively, at first, then more confidently—toward the ruins, taking comfort in the solidness of the staff in his hand. When he reached the threshold of the first building, a strangely cold shiver ran through him. He’d been in the presence of spirits before, and recognized the feeling, but this was a far stronger sensation—so much so that he doubted it could have that same cause. He reached out; touched the rough stone with his fingertips and felt the stored warmth of the sun. But he also felt a gentle pulse, like the beating of a living heart, and pulled his hand away when it became too uncomfortable.
“... Hello?”
A faint howling answered his words, like the sound of wind whistling through a cave. Yet Ryou saw no structures able to produce that type of sound, and wasn't inclined to pass it off as such regardless. He took several more steps, then looked sharply up at an unknown trigger.
Far down one empty, dust-filled street, a figure stood watching. He was such a distance away that Ryou couldn’t make out his features, but the red robe that billowed out behind him lent a sense of grandeur to his visage. He looked of the desert, and as lonely as the ghosts that Ryou could feel swirling about.
Ryou raised his hand; the rogue did not respond.
... ... ...
It seemed to Ryou that he merely blinked—one moment, the desert rogue; the next, his own dining-room table top, the Monster World game spread out across it and the artifact, not the mage’s staff, grasped lightly in his hand.
“Ryou!” Yugi’s voice—Yugi was beside him; had a hand on his shoulder. Ryou turned; blinked up at his worried friend and all the others clustered around him.
“I...” He sat slightly up; unconsciously grasped the Ring tighter as he pushed himself up. “I’m sorry...”
“Man, what happened?!” Jounochi demanded, and Yugi’s grip tightened on Ryou’s shoulder.
Ryou shook his head slowly, recalling the desertscape he’d glimpsed. ‘Could that really... have been...?’
“Have you been sleeping?” Yugi asked. “Remembering to eat?”
Ryou nodded. While his friend’s concerns weren’t baseless, he’d been consciously doing better in such areas. “Yes... I think it was...” His grip tightened around the artifact, and he said, “I think I just had a vision of some kind...”
Yugi’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t reply. Anzu ran to fetch a glass of water; Jounochi and Honda fretted. Ryou felt Yugi’s eyes stay on him, examining him for any sign of deception. Yet Ryou didn’t know how to better explain, nor could he have made anything up at that point. So he gazed back at Yugi with plaintive eyes, begging his friend to understand.
Somehow, he thought, Yugi did; his friend gave the tiniest of nods, and Ryou’s eyes bled relief.
... ... ...
Thief King Bakura had grown practiced at stillness and contemplation over the past three millennia. During his life, he’d had little time or patience for such things, but now restlessness carried with it the very real risk of madness. He paced often, but rarely in agitation; at times, he rested for days without moving, and wasn’t even plagued with the stiffness that might settle in living joints after such a time. It was an attitude that served him well.
When the white-robbed magician appeared, however, Bakura realized that three millennia may also have dulled his instincts, for he froze. Unable to move, he stared at the boy, and continued to stare after the magician had winked out of existence by some mysterious heka. And then Bakura continued to stand, paralyzed, transfixed. His thoughts moved swiftly, but in no definite direction. He reached no conclusion, and he took no action.
He might’ve been tempted to pass the boy off as a hallucination if not for the wailing of the ghosts that kept him eternal company. They, too, had seen the white-robed magician. More than that, they had detected a familiar heka in him—the power of a Millennium Item—and they shrieked this softly to Bakura. Someone had entered Kul Elna for the first time in three millennia, and it seemed he possessed one of the Millennium Items.
A magician... surely a powerful one, at that... Bakura felt his limbs quiver with a forgotten sense of thrill. A visitor...
A wail rose from his surroundings, and Bakura raised his head—broke his stillness. He straightened, listening to the familiar lament and contemplating the white magician.
If he truly holds a Millennium Item... he’ll be drawn back to this place. The King of Thieves smiled, although unsure exactly why. He’ll appear again...
“Ghosts... we may have a guest soon... Isn’t that exciting?”