Chapter 33: Good Brothers
Chapter 33: Good Brothers
In a secluded alley, tucked away in the heart of the city, lay a hidden sanctuary known only to those privy to its existence.
A bar, shrouded in dim lighting, exuded an air of mystery. The scent of alcohol and tobacco hung heavy in the air, mingling with an even more turbid and oppressive atmosphere. An old-fashioned record player emitted eerie melodies, each note blending seamlessly into the pervasive shadows.
It was as if an invisible darkness enveloped the entire space.
This was a gathering place for Duel Monsters who embraced the shadows.
However, it was not the only one of its kind. While dark duels remained urban legends to the general public—much like how Syrus Truesdale from the first season of GX initially refused to believe in their existence—a vast underground network of dark duelists had spread across the globe in the many years since the DM era.
These duelists operated in the shadows, akin to assassins whose deeds were best left unseen.
There were numerous freelancers who took on assignments through the underground network, executing tasks for a price. Simultaneously, there existed organizations that united these shadowy figures.
The emergence of such organizations was an inevitable consequence of their utility. After all, dark duels were incredibly convenient and versatile, surpassing traditional assassination and espionage methods by far.
With a simple duel, one could eliminate their target without firing a single shot or leaving any traces. And if desired, additional restrictions could be imposed during the initiation of a dark duel to ensure that the victim's remains were reduced to ashes, or more literally, their very bone marrow dispersed into particles, leaving absolutely no evidence behind.
Moreover, their capabilities extended beyond mere assassination. By staking their lives in a duel and emerging victorious against key individuals in positions of power, they could effortlessly extract confidential information from anyone or even brainwash their opponents into submission, thereby influencing significant events in both the business and political spheres.
Naturally, the rise of such dark professions had attracted the attention of high society, prompting important figures to either hone their own dueling skills or surround themselves with duel bodyguards.
This particular bar, named "Blood Moon," was one of the hubs for these shadowy duelists.
The bartender, a woman with scarlet irises, possessed curves that commanded attention, and she didn't shy away from generously displaying her endowments to her colleagues.
This explained why, during meetings, the colleagues' gazes remained fixed on her for the majority of the time—despite her minimal contributions to the conversation.
A man in a suit slowly sipped his drink at the bar, then set down his glass and spoke in a leisurely tone. "We have lost one of our colleagues."
"Oh."
"Such a shame."
"What a pity."
The colleagues expressed their regret, but their eyes never strayed from the bartender, who was gracefully swirling the liquid in her glass. The motion of her arm caused her body to sway gently, eliciting murmurs of appreciation from the men below.
The suited man frowned, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Could you at least pretend to care about the loss of one of our own?"
One of them pointed out, "But you've been staring at her the entire time you've been speaking."
The suited man paused for a moment, then replied with unabashed honesty, "I can't help it."
His response elicited a round of laughter, filling the bar with a cheerful atmosphere.
"But in all seriousness," the suited man continued, his voice turning somber, "Ryou Bakura was my good brother. We knew each other even before we joined this organization. I can't just pretend like nothing happened."
The man with a center-parted hairstyle offered some consolation. "We all understand the rules of this path we've chosen. In the world of duels, victory brings life, and defeat brings death. After countless duels and countless life-or-death situations, sometimes you win, and sometimes death comes knocking. Bakura knew this as well."
"Besides," another chimed in, "do you even know who did it?"
"Ghost Tomb was very interested in this. As a fellow dinosaur user, he often mentioned wanting to find Ryuzaki and test his skills against him."
Here is the translation:
"'Ghost' has never beaten me," Fujimoto, the man in the suit, replied with a slight smile. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and then, amidst the swirling smoke, looked up at the sky at a 45-degree angle.
"There are times when a man has no choice but to take on a challenge. Besides, we are Duel Monsters. If we always settle for the status quo and shy away from facing stronger opponents, how can we ever hope to improve?"
Center Part eyed him skeptically. "If you're so ambitious, why don't you go challenge Yugi Mutou?"
Fujimoto, who had been putting on a brave front, was suddenly left speechless. After a few seconds of silence, he muttered dejectedly, "Yugi Mutou is too strong."
After all, when he spoke of challenging stronger opponents to surpass himself, he wasn't talking about suicide missions.
Knowing full well that he had a zero percent chance of winning was just asking to be humiliated.
Fujimoto sighed softly, his thoughts drifting to the past. "Ghost and I were both outcasts in the Dueling World. We met through underground duels, and I promised him that if anything happened to him, I would take care of his wife and children."
"I never expected him to leave so suddenly, without even a child to carry on his legacy. All that's left is a gentle and beautiful girlfriend for me to look after."
With that, the matter of ensuring the continuation of the Ghost Clan's lineage now fell squarely on Fujimoto's shoulders, and he couldn't help but shake his head and sigh at the difficulties of life.
A burly man patted him on the shoulder. "Brother, don't be too sad. Ghost must be relieved to have a reliable brother like you. He can rest in peace."
"You're right," Fujimoto agreed, patting the man's hand and nodding.
Suddenly, he felt a chill run down his spine for no apparent reason.
"Hmm? Did you just feel a gust of cold wind?"
The burly man blinked in confusion. "No."
"Strange. Could it be that Ghost Tomb is urging me to take revenge for him?"
Fujimoto looked up at the sky and said solemnly, "Rest assured, Brother Onizuka. I will find that young punk Ryuzaki and drag his soul into the darkness to avenge you!"
Elsewhere...
After his crushing defeat at the Moonflower Cup, Ryuzaki the dinosaur had failed in his attempt to make a comeback and had once again gone into seclusion to intensely study his deck.
Initially confident that this time he would make a spectacular return, he never expected to fail so miserably. Instead of the triumphant return of a champion, he ended up becoming a stepping stone for a newcomer.
Especially since this newcomer had no record of any duels before this tournament, it was easy to imagine that from now on, whenever he showed his face, people's first reaction would be: "Wow, isn't that the guy who got trashed by Ryuzaki?"
In other words, the more famous that newcomer became, the more Ryuzaki would be whipped in the metaphorical duel again and again.
After being in seclusion for so many years, not only had he failed to soar to new heights, but he had also become a mere background character in someone else's story. How could he possibly bear this humiliation?
"Fujiki You Xuan... Very well, I will remember your name."
Ryuzaki muttered coldly to himself.
He had no choice but to seek another opportunity to duel that kid again and win back his honor.
As long as he didn't beat that kid, he would continue to carry this shame, and the joke would spread far and wide.
Just as he was thinking about this, he suddenly felt an itch in his nose and sneezed, "Achoo!"
"Strange, I suddenly feel a chill on my back."
Ryuzaki rubbed his nose, perplexed.
He had a strange feeling that someone was thinking about him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
