The three of us stepped out of the red sedan, the San Francisco morning sun casting long shadows on the pavement. The breeze smelled faintly of salt from the nearby bay, but it was the sight in front of me that took my breath away.
My eyes widened, lips parting slightly in awe. There it stood—the Kaiba Corp American headquarters. Towering above us, a gleaming monolith of steel and glass, the building seemed to pulse with authority and innovation. The bright blue logo at the top gleamed against the cloudless sky.
Seeing the Kaiba Corp building in person was a surreal moment. I'd watched it so many times on television, read about it in magazines, but none of that came close to standing in front of it. It was imposing. Powerful. Real.
Beside me, Rebecca's steps slowed. Her expression was a mix of excitement and apprehension. Her eyes scanned the building's height, and she clutched the strap of her bag a little tighter.
"What are we doing here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even, though a thread of curiosity slipped through.
Arthur—Grandfather—answered with calm certainty, his face composed but proud. "Both of you have been signed up for the Battle City tournament. We're here to pick up your new duel disks and anything else we'll need."
My heart skipped a beat. I blinked, stunned for a moment. "The Battle City tournament?" I echoed, trying to mask the thrill racing through me. "We're really in?"
He nodded. "Officially. Both of you."
My pulse quickened. My fingers curled with anticipation. I took a breath and steadied my voice. "Once we pick up our new duel disks, can we get some new cards?" I asked. "I'd like to upgrade my deck."
Rebecca turned to me, impressed by my composure. A rare soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
"It seems like you were prepared for this change," she said, her eyes lighting up. "You've got a good head for strategy, Connor. I'm counting on you to help me come up with new tactics to account for the banlist."
I gave her a nod of acknowledgment, appreciating her praise but keeping focused. "I expected this change. I used three copies of Pot of Greed. It was bound to happen sooner or later."
Her smirk returned, more competitive now. "Well, I only used one copy anyway," she teased. "I guess this change will force us to get creative with our deck building. Let's see who adapts better to the new rules."
I chuckled softly. "It's limited to one now. Too powerful to have three copies."
Rebecca's eyes widened slightly, her eyebrows arching. "Pot of Greed?" she repeated, genuine surprise in her voice. "Isn't that a staple card for all duelists? Why would they limit it?"
I shrugged, masking my own disappointment with logic. "Too many people were relying on it. The format needed balance."
As we stepped through the automatic doors, the Kaiba Corp lobby opened up before us—a sleek, futuristic space of glass panels, LED lighting, and polished marble floors. Monitors lined the walls, displaying past duels, promotional teasers for the upcoming tournament, and profiles of well-known duelists.
We passed through a security checkpoint, where a receptionist greeted us with a professional smile.
"You're the American prodigies," he said, glancing at a digital tablet before gesturing for us to follow. "Right this way. We've prepared your duel disks and tournament registration packets."
He led us down a hallway into a conference room where two pristine duel disks sat atop a glass table, each accompanied by a sleek rulebook and a silver Kaiba Corp briefcase.
The moment my hand touched the duel disk, a surge of emotion ran through me. It was sleek, elegant—far more advanced than the old models. I strapped it onto my arm and activated it. A soft hum vibrated through the device, and the projection blade extended with a flickering light.
"This is incredible," I murmured, my eyes reflecting the blue glow.
Rebecca slipped hers on with a confident smirk. She rotated her wrist, testing the weight. "Oh yeah. This feels good. I can't wait to test this out in the tournament." Her eyes sparkled with excitement.
I met her gaze with a grin. "Same here. Just don't expect me to take it easy on you."
"Oh please," she replied with mock offense. "I'd be insulted if you did."
As we walked deeper into the building, our footsteps echoed on the marble floor. The walls were adorned with framed duel monster cards and photographs of legendary duels. The deeper we went, the more real everything felt.
Arthur walked ahead of us, hands behind his back, head held high. He glanced over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips.
"This tournament will be unlike any before it," he said, his voice rich with history. "A worldwide event. Duelists from every corner of the globe. Some of the strongest minds and fiercest competitors alive. There will be pressure. And a lot of eyes on you two."
Rebecca squared her shoulders. Her expression turned serious, eyes sharp. "I understand, Grandfather," she said. "I'll do my absolute best in the tournament, no matter what. I won't let the pressure get to me."
She then turned to me, her competitive spirit reigniting. "And I'll make sure to beat you too, Connor. You better watch out because I'm gunning for the top spot."
I grinned, the fire matching hers. "Bring it on, Rebecca. Let's see who's the better duelist."
Arthur stopped, turned to face us fully. His expression was proud, but his eyes held a weight that spoke of experience.
"Good," he said. "Because this tournament isn't just about winning. It's about proving who you are when it matters most. Some of the duelists you'll face... they won't be interested in glory. They'll be interested in domination."
Rebecca's brows furrowed, but she nodded.
I felt the weight of his words settle over my shoulders. I could sense the importance of the moment—this wasn't just about fun. This was history in the making. And we were about to become a part of it.
Arthur's voice softened. "No matter what happens, I just want both of you to do your best. You've earned your place in this tournament. That's all I could ever ask of you."
Rebecca and I shared a look. There was no smugness now. No playful challenge.
Just mutual respect.
Feeling the excitement and anticipation building, Connor glanced at Arthur and Rebecca as they moved toward the card shop on the second floor of the Kaiba Corp building.
"I'll be quick!" he called over his shoulder.
Rebecca rolled her eyes, arms crossed in exasperation, though a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Try not to get lost, squirt."
Arthur, more patient, simply gave a nod, his arms folded across his chest as he waited with silent composure.
Connor broke into a light jog, the weight of his new duel disk resting firmly on his left arm. The energy of Kaiba Corp buzzed around him—screens advertising the upcoming Battle City tournament, duelists chatting excitedly in corners, even employees moving briskly with clipboards and briefcases. But the moment he pushed open the restroom door and stepped inside, the world fell silent.
The restroom was dimly lit, a sharp contrast to the high-tech brightness outside. Pale fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the tiled floor. The walls were lined with spotless white ceramic, but a strange chill lingered in the air, like a presence waiting to reveal itself.
Connor stepped into one of the stalls and tried to shake the growing unease.
Focus. You're in the Battle City tournament. Stay sharp. Stay calm.
As he washed his hands, the sound of the stall door creaking open behind him sliced through the silence like a blade. He glanced up at the mirror.
His heart stopped.
Standing at the entrance of the stall wasn't just another Kaiba Corp employee—it was him.
Dartz.
Tall, imposing, and otherworldly, the ancient duelist stepped forward, his blue-green hair flowing like liquid silk around his shoulders. His chilling, teal eyes gleamed with an unnatural glow, and his lips curled into a smile that was all teeth and menace.
Connor's breath hitched in his throat. Fear coiled in his stomach, twisting painfully. Dartz. The leader of the Orichalcos. The monster responsible for the destruction of entire souls.
Before Connor could react, a shadow peeled itself from the wall. A second figure entered.
The Duelist Exterminator.
Emerging like a living phantom, the trench coat-clad assassin stepped forward, face hidden beneath the brim of a white cowboy hat, his cold, predatory eyes locking onto Dartz. His posture was sharp, unflinching. Danger radiated from him like heat.
Dartz blinked, his grin fading into a look of amused recognition.
"Well, well," Dartz said, voice smooth as poisoned honey. "What do we have here? Another insect buzzing around thinking it can bite?"
The Duelist Exterminator didn't blink. "Your sins won't be forgotten," he said icily. "You ordered the attack on those children. The American government paid a hefty sum to end you."
Connor's hands clenched into fists. Blood pounded in his ears. Dartz's smug expression, the mention of the school attack, the faces of his classmates—all dead. Rage surged through him, hot and suffocating.
Before he realized what he was doing, he stepped forward, his voice firm despite the fluttering in his chest.
"I'm in," he said.
Both Dartz and the Exterminator looked at him.
The Exterminator's gaze narrowed, studying the small, blonde-haired boy. His voice was measured. "You sure, kid?"
Connor's expression hardened. His tiny five-year-old fists were shaking, but his eyes were blazing. "He's responsible for what happened to my classmates. I'm not letting him get away with it."
A flicker of approval passed through the Exterminator's cold exterior. He gave a single nod.
Dartz threw his head back and laughed. "You think the two of you can defeat me? I've destroyed duelists with twice your strength—and three times your experience."
Connor snapped his duel disk onto his arm. The snap of the activation echoed like thunder in the tiled room. "We're not just here to duel. We're here for justice."
The Exterminator mirrored the motion, his expression unreadable. I've studied your deck, Dartz, he thought, the words cold as steel. Your Orichalcos tactics are old tricks to me. I already know the cracks in your so-called strategy—Jason made sure of that. He felt a bitter taste at the back of his tongue just thinking of his serpent-tongued brother. Jason, who slithered through every alliance like a snake in tall grass, had whispered everything he needed to know about Dartz: the patterns, the hidden cards, the desperate gambits cloaked in cruelty and prophecy.
It wasn't trust that made him rely on Jason's intelligence—far from it. Jason was a liar, a manipulator whose words dripped venom. But this time, Exterminator knew his brother's ambition outweighed deceit. Jason needed Dartz dead. His own schemes required the fall of the Orichalcos master, and so—for once—the lies became useful. If Jason wants you gone, Dartz, then I can trust every scrap of information he gave me. He wouldn't risk sabotaging his own endgame.
The Exterminator's gaze sharpened, calculation overtaking contempt. "Let's see if prophecy and cruelty can stand against cold calculation."
A vortex of green energy shimmered beneath Dartz's boots as his duel disk ignited. The dark sigil of the Orichalcos pulsed faintly, casting a sickly emerald light across the bathroom walls.
"This duel will mark the end of both of you," Dartz declared. "Once I win, your souls will belong to the Orichalcos."
Connor swallowed hard. The fear was there, crawling at the back of his mind. But he kept his gaze firm. "We won't let you win."
A smirk crossed Dartz's lips. "Let's begin."
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