Domino City had never looked so peaceful.
The afternoon sun filtered through a blanket of pale clouds, painting the sidewalks gold. Pigeons pecked lazily at scraps by the curb. A soft breeze rustled the trees lining the plaza. And for the first time in weeks, Yugi Muto and Joey Wheeler walked with light steps.
Their Duel Disks were clipped to their belts, locator cards fully collected. Six each.
"Man," Joey grinned, arms folded behind his head. "Can ya believe it? We finally did it. All six locator cards!"
Yugi smiled faintly, but his expression held a layer of reflection. "Yeah... after everything we've been through, it almost feels strange. Like the quiet before a storm."
Joey gave him a sidelong glance. "You think somethin's up?"
Yugi shook his head. "No. I just—"
His voice stopped. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Joey blinked. "Who's callin' you?"
Yugi pulled the device free. His heart skipped a beat. It wasn't a number he recognized, but the screen read:
Incoming Call – Grandpa
Yugi's smile dropped instantly. His brows furrowed as he tapped the answer button.
"Grandpa? Are you—"
"Not quite."
The voice was low, smooth, and cold. Too calm. Each syllable rolled off the tongue with practiced malice. The kind of voice you'd expect to hear right before the world ended.
Yugi's entire body went rigid.
"Who are you?" he demanded, clutching the phone tighter.
Across from him, Joey frowned. "Yug?"
On the other end of the line, the voice spoke again, slower this time.
"I'm the man who just beat Solomon Muto in a duel. The man currently standing in your family shop... watching your grandfather bleed."
Yugi's face drained of color.
Joey stepped closer. "What's goin' on?"
The voice didn't stop.
"If you want to see him alive again, come back to the Turtle Game Shop. Alone. No cops. No friends. If you don't—"
There was a pause.
"I kill him and find you myself."
Click.
The line went dead.
Yugi stared at the screen, unblinking. His chest tightened. The phone nearly fell from his hand.
Joey grabbed his shoulder. "Yug, what happened?! Who was that?!"
Yugi's voice was barely a whisper.
"He has Grandpa…"
Joey's eyes widened, and for the first time in a long time, rage ignited behind them. "Who?! Who the hell took Solomon?!"
Yugi's jaw tightened. "He didn't say his name. But... I know who it is. I've heard of him before. The Duelist Exterminator."
Joey blinked. "That myth? That's just a story, right? Some kind of duelist ghost from the underground circuit?"
Yugi shook his head. "No. He's real. And he has my grandfather."
Joey's fists clenched. "We can't just let this go. I'll come with you."
But Yugi turned toward him with fire in his eyes. "He said to come alone."
"So what?! You're just gonna waltz into a trap?! You don't even know what you're walkin' into!"
"I don't have a choice!" Yugi snapped, louder than he intended. Then, softer: "He's all I have left, Joey. I can't let anything happen to him…"
Joey stared at him for a moment. Then he lowered his head, grinding his teeth.
"…Then I'm not lettin' you go without backup. At least let me follow from a distance. I won't jump in unless you need me."
Yugi hesitated. He looked torn—his loyalty to his grandfather pitted against his need to protect his friends.
Joey added, voice firm, "C'mon, Yugi. The old man wouldn't want you walkin' into danger blind."
Yugi finally nodded. Just once. "Alright. But stay back. If he realizes anyone else is close, he might…"
Joey looked away. "Yeah. I got it."
They turned toward the direction of the game shop.
The clouds began to thicken.
Back inside the Turtle Game Shop, the air was heavy—dense with cold silence and the weight of history shattered. Card shelves lay overturned, their contents strewn like fallen leaves. A poster of Dark Magician Girl hung limply, one corner torn and fluttering with each passing breeze from the broken window. The neon sign in the front flickered a dull, stuttering red, pulsing like a dying heartbeat.
The Duelist Exterminator stood in the center of the room, unmoving, like a monument of dread. His long coat was dusted with flecks of shattered glass, the hems dragging across the scuffed wooden floor. His shadow stretched long behind him in the sickly glow of the flickering lights.
Before him, slumped against the cracked register cabinet, was Solomon Muto. The old man's duel disk hung broken from his forearm, its lights dim. Blood trickled from a cut above his brow, matting his grayed hair, but his eyes remained sharp. Weathered. Defiant.
"You… won't break him," Solomon muttered through clenched teeth. "Yugi… won't fall for your tricks."
The Exterminator said nothing for a long moment. His lips tightened.
Then, slowly, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and drew a single card from a black sleeve.
It shimmered faintly in the dim light—green with a sinister red emblem etched into the surface.
The Seal of Orichalcos.
He let the card hang loosely between his gloved fingers, tilting it slightly so that the symbol seemed to glow.
"Trust me," he whispered, his voice almost too calm, "your grandson is a dead man walking."
But even as he spoke the words, a subtle twitch passed through his jaw. His thumb rubbed against the edge of the card—not with eagerness, but uncertainty. His gaze lingered on the Seal longer than necessary.
Solomon noticed.
"You're afraid," the old man said quietly, voice cracking but steady. "You mask it well. But I can see it."
The Exterminator's gaze snapped to him. His jaw clenched. "I'm not afraid."
"Aren't you?" Solomon asked, lifting his head slowly despite the pain. "You went to all this trouble—rigged traps, hunted duelists, loaded your deck with counters and tools—and yet here you are. Shaking."
The Exterminator's hands curled into fists.
"I'm not afraid of your grandson."
"Yes, you are," Solomon said. "Because deep down, even with all your bronze relics and deck-stacking, you know… you know the heart of the cards won't let him fall to you. You think if you strip away his allies, his hope, his legacy—you can break him."
Solomon's eyes burned despite the bruise blooming under one.
"But Yugi's not just a boy. He's been the Pharaoh. He's been the champion of darkness and light. He's stood against forces beyond imagination. You… are just a bitter man with a grudge you never grew out of."
The Exterminator's breath caught for just a moment—barely audible. Then he turned away sharply, his coat snapping behind him.
He approached the counter and set the Seal of Orichalcos on the register, letting it rest in plain view, as if daring fate to intervene.
"I didn't come here to debate legacy," he said coldly, though his voice trembled at the edges. "I came to finish a job that should have ended years ago."
Solomon leaned back against the counter with a wince. "You're wrong."
The Exterminator ignored him.
But inside, his nerves were a storm.
What if he doesn't fall for it?
He reached for the second Millennium pendant around his neck and tightened his grip on it. The cold metal grounded him.
No… I've come too far to hesitate.
But deep beneath his rage, beneath the veneer of ruthless precision, something else flickered.
Doubt.
He looked again at the door, waiting—knowing Yugi was coming.
And wondering, just for a second, whether even death was enough to stop the will of someone chosen by fate.
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