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At a certain corner of the city.
At the end of a narrow, dimly lit alleyway, though still within the urban area, it felt as if this place was completely isolated from the outside world.
This was a zone accessible only to those who knew the correct route.
A bar.
Soft lighting cast mottled shadows across the walls, while the air was saturated with the mingling scents of alcohol and tobacco, along with something darker and heavier. An old-fashioned gramophone played an eerie melody, each note seemingly blending into the omnipresent shadows.
It was as though an invisible darkness enveloped the entire space.
This was a gathering spot for Shadow Duelists.
Though not the only one. While Dark Duels were still considered mere rumors by the general public—just like in the early seasons of Yu-Gi-Oh! GX, where characters like Judai Yuki once dismissed their existence out of scientific skepticism—in truth, decades after the events of Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters, underground networks for Dark Duelists had spread worldwide.
And these duelists, much like assassins operating in the shadows, were scattered across various regions.
Some worked independently, taking on contracts through underground channels to execute tasks without leaving a trace. Others belonged to organized groups.
The rise of such practices was inevitable. After all, Dark Duels were incredibly convenient and versatile, far surpassing traditional methods of assassination or espionage. By simply playing cards, targets could be eliminated without firing a single bullet or leaving any evidence behind. If necessary, additional restrictions during the duel could ensure that even the target's remains would vanish into nothingness—literally reducing them to particles indistinguishable from dust.
But their capabilities extended beyond mere assassination. Winning a life-or-death duel against someone in a position of power could pry open any secret or force compliance through mind control, influencing major events in both business and politics.
Of course, where there is offense, there must also be defense. The emergence of this shadowy profession naturally drew attention from high society, prompting important figures to either hone their own card skills or hire skilled duel bodyguards to protect themselves.
This bar, named "Blood Moon", served as a hub for one such group of Dark Duelists.
Behind the counter stood a bartender—a woman with crimson eyes and curves so striking they demanded attention. She made no effort to conceal her natural gifts, ensuring that nine times out of ten, her colleagues' gazes remained fixed on her during meetings—even when she said little to nothing at all.
At the bar, a man in a suit slowly sipped his drink, set the glass down, and spoke in a calm tone: "One of our comrades has left us."
"Oh."
"What a shame."
"Such a pity."
The others expressed their condolences, but their eyes never strayed from the bartender. She continued to swirl drinks in her hands with graceful precision, her movements causing ripples throughout her figure, eliciting murmurs of admiration from the crowd below.
The suited man frowned slightly. "We've lost a comrade. Can't you at least pretend to care?"
Someone piped up: "But aren't you looking over there too while talking?"
The man paused for two seconds before declaring confidently: "I can't help myself."
Laughter erupted, filling the bar with a lively atmosphere.
"But seriously," the suited man said gravely, "Onizuka was my good brother. We knew each other long before joining this organization. I... can't just act like nothing happened."
A man with middle-parted hair consoled him: "We're all players in this dangerous game. Everyone knows the rules: win and live, lose and die. So many duels, so many lives on the line... Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose—it's just how it goes. Onizuka knew this better than anyone."
"Besides," another voice chimed in, "Do you even know who did it? Everyone in our line of work has enemies—dozens of them..."
"Onizuka mentioned something to me the night before he left headquarters," the suited man said solemnly. "He heard rumors that Ryuzaki, the legendary Duelist, might be making a comeback."
"Onizuka was intrigued. As another dinosaur deck user, he often talked about wanting to challenge Ryuzaki someday..."
"That guy's a living legend," the middle-parted man remarked. "Are you sure you want to go down this path, Fujimoto? Onizuka wasn't weak, and if he couldn't beat Ryuzaki..."
"Onizuka never beat me," interrupted Fujimoto, the suited man, smirking. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and gazed upward at a 45-degree angle through the lingering smoke.
"There comes a time when a man has no choice but to step up. Besides, as duelists, if we always settle for mediocrity and avoid challenging stronger opponents, how will we ever improve?"
The middle-parted man squinted at him skeptically. "If you're so ambitious, why don't you go challenge Yugi Mutou instead?"
Fujimoto, mid-posturing, choked on his words. After several awkward seconds, he muttered gruff all:
"...Yugi Mutou is on another level entirely."
After all, he meant challenging strong opponents to grow stronger—not committing suicide.
Knowing your chances of winning are zero and proceeding anyway is just asking to be obliterated...
Fujimoto sighed deeply, reminiscing about the past.
"Onizuka and I were both abandoned by the dueling world. We met through underground duels... Back then, we made a pact: if anything happened to him, I'd take care of his wife and children."
He shook his head sadly. "Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine he'd leave so suddenly, without leaving behind any heirs—just a kind and beautiful girlfriend waiting for me to look after..."
Which meant that fulfilling his promise to his late friend required more than just emotional support...
Thinking about it made him shake his head repeatedly, lamenting the harshness of life.
A large man nearby patted his shoulder. "Don't be too hard on yourself, boss. If Onizuka's spirit is watching, knowing he has such a dependable brother should bring him peace."
"You're right," Fujimoto replied, patting the man's hand and nodding.
Then, suddenly, a chill ran down his spine.
"Huh? Did you feel that sudden cold breeze too?"
The burly man blinked in confusion. "Nope."
"Weird... Could it be Onizuka urging me to avenge him?"
Fujimoto tilted his head skyward, his expression serious.
"Onizuka, rest assured. I'll find that dinosaur-loving brat Ryuzaki and drag his soul into the darkness to avenge you!"
---
Elsewhere.
Following his humiliating defeat at the Tsukihana Cup, Dinosaur Ryuzaki retreated back into seclusion, once again immersing himself in studying his deck.
He had been so confident that this comeback would make waves, only to end up embarrassing himself spectacularly. Instead of reclaiming his throne, he became a stepping stone for some rookie nobody.
Especially frustrating was the fact that this newcomer's record prior to the tournament was completely blank. From now on, whenever people saw him, their first thought would inevitably be: "Isn't that the guy who crushed Ryuzaki?"
In other words, the further the rookie advanced, the more Ryuzaki's reputation would suffer.
After years of seclusion, failing to make a triumphant return was bad enough—but becoming a laughingstock in the process? Unforgivable.
"Fujiki Yugen... Very well, I'll remember you."
Ryuzaki muttered darkly under his breath.
He had no choice but to seek a rematch.
Until he defeated that kid, he would remain shackled to this stain on his reputation, doomed to watch the joke spread wider and wider.
Lost in thought, he suddenly felt an itch in his nose and sneezed loudly.
"Strange, why do I suddenly feel a chill down my spine?"
Ryuzaki rubbed his nose absently, puzzled.
Why did he have the strange feeling that someone was thinking about him?