The morning after Bakura's duel with Mai, the KaibaCorp blimp was quieter than usual. The engines still thrummed beneath the floors, but the audience had retreated to their cabins, leaving only a scattering of duelists and crew in the common lounge. Outside the tall glass windows, clouds rolled past in soft, endless waves, the sunlight carving silver lines into their tops.
Devin adjusted his white hoodie, tugging the sleeves down to cover his wrists. The hood was up despite the warmth, and white-rimmed glasses rested low on the bridge of his nose. He caught sight of himself in the reflection of the glass and forced a faint smile. You don't look stuck-up anymore, he told himself. You look reborn. You look like someone with purpose.
That was what the Church had told him after all—after his loss at the earlier tournament, when he had stumbled through the back alleys of shame and bitterness, they had reached out. Not everyone got the call. Not everyone was chosen. But the Light had spoken through the higher members, and Devin had felt it: a warmth that burned away arrogance and replaced it with certainty.
"Devin?"
The voice pulled him out of his reflection. He turned to see Connor Hawkins approaching, his usual sharp expression softened by curiosity. Connor's jacket looked just a little too big on him, as always, but there was an edge to the way he carried himself that made Devin pause. This was the boy he had once written off as ordinary, an opponent he had dismissed after their duel. And yet here he was, standing on Kaiba's blimp, one of the finalists.
Devin stood straighter, lifting his chin. "Connor. It's been a while."
Connor gave a faint nod. "Yeah. Didn't expect to see you here again." His eyes flicked over the hoodie, the glasses. "You look… different."
Devin smiled faintly, placing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Different. Yes. Better. Stronger. "I've changed. After our duel, I was… approached. Given a new perspective. A higher purpose."
Connor's brows drew together. "Approached? By who?"
Devin let his gaze drift to the light streaming through the window. He let it play across his glasses, catching in the reflection, almost like a halo. "By the Light," he said softly.
Connor's eyes narrowed, but Devin pressed on before skepticism could harden into refusal. "Don't misunderstand,it's a real thing. It's clarity. Purification. I was lost in arrogance, stuck-up, thinking every duel was about me. But the Light reached down and showed me there was more. That there is a final battle coming—something bigger than tournaments, bigger than Kaiba's ambitions or Pegasus's legacy. A battle where only those chosen can stand."
He turned his gaze back to Connor, his smile gentle, almost persuasive. "And you, Connor, are one of those chosen. The Light needs you."
Connor frowned. "Needs me? Why?"
"Because of what's coming," Devin said simply. "Jason."
The name made Connor's expression shift—just slightly, a tightening at the corners of his eyes. Devin noticed. He had expected it. Jason's shadow loomed everywhere, whether people admitted it or not.
Devin took a slow breath, steadying himself as he explained. "Jason is not just a man. He's a scientist who's meddled in things he doesn't understand, shaping forces that shouldn't be touched. You've already seen it—Gods cards,the way governments circle like vultures around Industrial Illusions. Jason is at the center of that storm. And the Light knows this. The Light sees it."
Connor's voice was level, cautious. "How do you know all that?"
Devin let his fingers tighten inside his hoodie pocket, though his voice came out smooth, practiced. "Because after I lost in the tournament, I was invited into something greater. I became part of the Church of the Light. They pulled me into the higher ranks, showed me truths hidden from the rest of the world. That Jason has aligned himself with darker forces. That the final duel will not be about money, or pride—it will be about survival. The survival of the Light." His eyes flickered, steady as he leaned forward. "And when that time comes, only certain decks, certain paths, will be strong enough to face him."
Connor tilted his head, suspicion sharpening in his gaze. "And you're saying… what's needed for me to win my duel?"
Devin didn't hesitate. He nodded, every syllable carrying the weight of conviction. You'll be facing a god card in your next match. Black Luster Soldier, Envoy of the Beginning is the perfect counter—it's the only thing that can guarantee victory. The Light showed me this."
The lie sat easily on his tongue, though inside, Devin knew better. Exodia was what the Light needed Connor to wield. Exodia was certainty. But Connor was cautious, wary. If Devin pushed too directly, the boy would resist. No—better to point him elsewhere, knowing his distrust would guide him back to the path intended. He won't believe me. He'll cling to Exodia instead. And that's what the Light wants.
Connor folded his arms, the movement guarded, his expression unreadable. "Why would your… Church care so much about a duel? How do I know you're not just trying to mess me up?"
"Because duels aren't just games," Devin said quickly, urgency flickering in his voice. His glasses caught the sunlight, eyes gleaming with fervor that nearly startled even him. "They're conduits. They've always been conduits. Every card, every monster, every spell—it channels something older, something deeper. That's why the Egyptian Gods exist, why the Wicked Gods have surfaced, why ancient artifacts keep finding their way back into the world. These cards are fragments of a war that never really ended."
His voice softened, persuasive, coaxing. "And the Light wants to end that war. To finally bring peace."
Connor's stare didn't waver. He didn't nod, didn't shake his head. His silence was a wall, but Devin saw it for what it was: he was listening. And that was enough.
Of course, he didn't say everything. Not the whispers he'd heard from the higher circles of the Church. He didn't mention that the Light of Destruction wasn't welcomed openly, that governments would never allow a "mind control cult" to exist in the sunlight. He didn't explain that the Church thrived by subtlety, touching only the minds of its top members while leaving most followers blissfully ordinary, none the wiser.
He certainly didn't reveal that others—wielders of dark artifacts, remnants of rival gods—had tried the same before. That cults had risen and fallen, battles fought in shadow over who would control belief itself. He didn't admit that the Light wasn't the only predator circling the world.
Those truths weren't for Connor. Not yet. Not when Devin could still shape the story so that the Light shone pure, benevolent, righteous. And in my heart, Devin thought, that's still what it is. The Light saved me. It burned away my arrogance. It gave me purpose. It cannot be wrong.
"You talk like it's destiny," Connor said at last, his voice calm, sharp as glass. "Like all of this is already decided."
Devin smiled faintly, turning his face toward the sunlight streaming through the blimp's wide windows. The glow caught on his glasses, a halo in miniature. "It is decided. But destiny still needs the right hands to guide it. That's why I came to you, Connor.
The hum of the blimp's engines filled the silence that followed. Connor didn't answer right away. His brow furrowed, his eyes unreadable, his thoughts masked behind that quiet, steady exterior.
Finally, he said, "I'll… consider it."
Devin exhaled slowly, satisfaction flickering through his chest. He could see the doubt still lingering in Connor's gaze, the reluctance etched in the line of his shoulders. But doubt didn't matter. Seeds never sprouted overnight—they only needed to be planted.
As Connor turned and walked away, Devin's eyes tracked him until he disappeared down the corridor. He adjusted his white-rimmed glasses, the sunlight flashing across the lenses, and allowed himself a thin smile. He doesn't trust me. Not yet. But he doesn't have to. The Light doesn't need trust. The Light needs results.
Turning back to the window, Devin stared at the endless horizon of clouds, their edges glowing silver in the morning sun. He pressed a palm against the glass, the warmth of the light seeping into his skin.
"Soon," he whispered, his breath fogging faintly against the pane. "Soon the Light will shine through every shadow. Jason, the dark gods, even the governments that cling to their false power—they'll all see. And Connor… Connor will be the one to deliver it."
He closed his eyes and let the sunlight wash over him. In Devin's heart, there was no doubt, no conflict. To him, the Light was not a destroyer.
It was salvation.
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