The morning sun had finally broken through the gray veil of cloud, casting golden rays over Domino City. The industrial chill of the night before was gone, but the tension lingered—clinging to the skin like dew. In the quiet alleyways near the southern edge of the Battle City perimeter, a quiet group had gathered behind a locked maintenance gate: Yugi Muto, Joey Wheeler, Connor, Rebecca, Professor Arthur Hawkins, Tea Gardner, and Tristan Taylor.
They had taken shelter in the disused courtyard of an old museum annex—one of Arthur's temporary research outposts while studying ancient Duel Monster artifacts. Vines crept along crumbling stone walls, and faded banners depicting ancient card inscriptions hung limp in the stagnant air. For a moment, they were just a circle of friends and companions sharing a silent morning, each wrestling with a weight too large for their years.
Yugi sat on a stone bench beneath the overhang of an ancient sandstone wall, elbows resting on his knees, his fingers laced. His violet eyes stared toward the distant skyline, but his focus drifted far beyond it. His duel disk, usually secured with confident purpose, sat beside him—off and still, like a knight's blade waiting in solemn silence.
Beside him, Joey leaned against a rusted support pillar, arms crossed tightly across his chest. His jaw was set, brows furrowed in a way that hadn't relaxed since the duel with the Rare Hunter. He looked like a man caught between frustration and determination, his gaze flickering toward Connor and Rebecca like he was replaying arguments he hadn't voiced.
Connor stood several feet away, stretching his arms behind his back, his posture loose but his expression thoughtful. His brown hair was tousled from the wind, and his duel disk was already secured. There was a keen awareness in his eyes, one that suggested knowledge beyond his age—beyond even this world. He was calm, not because he was naive, but because he knew what was coming.
Rebecca sat cross-legged on an overturned crate, her duel disk already armed and ready. Her small fists were balled slightly at her knees, and her mouth was pressed into a tight line. She tapped one foot anxiously, glaring toward the broken fence gate like she was daring trouble to find them.
Arthur moved with careful deliberation near the back of the courtyard, quietly securing a data scanner into his satchel. His shoulders were stiff, his aging hands working with deliberate steadiness. Though his back was to the group, his ears were tuned in, his expression serious beneath the gray-brown brim of his travel hat.
Tea and Tristan stood together off to the side, whispering quietly. Tea's brows were knitted with worry, her arms folded across her chest as she glanced toward Yugi. Tristan, ever the protector, kept a hand near his duel disk and his stance wide, like he expected the Rare Hunters to burst in at any moment.
"We should move soon," Yugi finally said, his voice soft but clear. The words cut through the silence, drawing every eye toward him.
"Yeah," Joey added, straightening up. "But not all of us."
Connor paused mid-stretch, lowering his arms. "Huh?" he asked, though there was no surprise in his voice. Just a quiet acceptance of what was coming.
Yugi stood, brushing the dust from his dark pants. He met Connor's gaze directly, eyes filled with warmth but tinged with quiet determination. "You and Rebecca. You should go with Arthur. Stay out of what's coming."
Rebecca sat up straighter, her expression stormy. Her mouth opened instantly, the protest rising in her throat—but Yugi gently raised a hand.
"It's not about strength," he said. "You've both proven yourselves more than once. But this... this isn't just about the tournament anymore."
Joey stepped forward, hands in his pockets, his tone gruffer than usual. "You saw what happened with that Exodia guy. People gettin' brainwashed. Hunters poppin' up like ghosts. This ain't a kids' card game anymore—it's war."
Rebecca's eyes burned with frustration, her lips trembling slightly. "So what, you think we're too young? That we're just gonna slow you down?"
Connor stayed quiet, processing the conversation with a thoughtful calm. Then he stepped forward, his expression relaxed, his eyes understanding.
"You're protecting us," he said simply.
Yugi gave a single nod, a small, sad smile crossing his lips. "Not because we don't trust you—but because we care. And we're not dragging you deeper into something even we don't fully understand."
Connor returned the smile. "It's fine. I get it. I need my own locator cards anyway, and I've got a path to walk. You guys do what you have to do." His gaze flicked briefly toward the skyline. "I've seen how this story goes."
Joey clapped him on the shoulder, his grin returning faintly. "That's the spirit. Just don't go showin' us up too bad, yeah?"
Arthur turned around, his expression softening as he placed a steady hand on Connor's shoulder. "We'll stay on the safe side of the tournament map. Scout the movement of the Rare Hunters. Let Yugi and Joey take the frontline."
Rebecca still looked unconvinced, her arms crossed and her mouth tight. But she finally nodded, begrudgingly. "Fine. But if anything happens to you two, I'm going to find whoever's responsible—and make sure they regret it."
Tea stepped up, her expression supportive but heavy with concern. "We'll keep each other safe. That's the promise."
Connor nodded. "Then I'll hold you to it."
Joey reached out his fist, and Connor bumped it with his own. "Win some duels for us," Joey said.
"Only if you're there in the finals too, Wheeler," Connor replied with a grin.
The mood lightened for a moment, laughter bubbling in just under the tension. Tristan gave Joey a thumbs up and cracked his knuckles. "Let's go kick some Rare Hunter tail."
With that, the group began to part. Yugi, Joey, Tea, and Tristan headed north, the rising sun casting long shadows behind them as they moved toward KaibaCorp's tower. Arthur led Connor and Rebecca in the opposite direction, taking the back alleys south, toward the duel arenas nestled near the park district.
Late afternoon had turned Domino City's skyline into a molten horizon. Burnished gold slanted off glass towers, casting long shadows through the narrow alleyways of the lower districts. The bustle of duelists had thinned here. The electronic hum of duel disks and the echo of drawn cards had faded into the distance, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the occasional flicker of neon from a forgotten ramen stall or boarded-up arcade.
Arthur Hawkins walked with a purposeful stride, his scanning device flickering with readings, guiding them deeper into the underused corners of Battle City's tournament grid.
"If we stay on this route," Arthur muttered, eyes narrowed behind his glasses, "we'll avoid any concentrated Hunter zones. At least for now."
He glanced over his shoulder at the two young duelists following close behind. Connor Hawkins, his nephew, walked with his duel disk already equipped, eyes scanning every movement along the alley. His posture was upright, shoulders squared—more composed than anyone his age had any right to be.
Beside him, Rebecca looked far less casual than her posture suggested. Her hands were laced behind her head, and she walked with a bounce in her step, but her golden eyes constantly flicked toward alley corners, fire escapes, and rooftops. She was trying to play it cool, but her clenched jaw betrayed her nerves.
The Exodia deck Connor had salvaged from the previous duel was secure in his deck box. Despite Arthur's initial protest, the boy had chosen to keep it—not as a crutch, but as a symbol. It was proof of victory. Proof that he belonged on this battlefield.
As they turned the next corner, Arthur stopped walking.
And so did everything else.
The hairs on the back of his neck rose a split-second before the ambush. They'd walked right into it.
From behind dumpsters, shadowed fire escapes, and alleyways, a wall of black-clad figures emerged. The sound of boots on concrete echoed too perfectly in sync to be natural. They moved like they'd rehearsed this entrance. Three in total—each wearing the tattered robes of the Rare Hunters, their silhouettes illuminated by the fading sunlight behind them. Their presence was wrong, unnatural. Their movements were smooth—but mechanical.
The leader stepped forward, and even before his mask caught the last rays of sun, Arthur knew.
Cyborgs.
At least, modified duelists. Their skin shimmered with implanted hardware—metal joints at the elbows, synthetic patches covering the throat, ports in their skulls like silver parasites. The one in front wore a theater tragedy mask, painted stark white with a black, warped smile. His duel disk was already powered up, humming with anticipation.
"Targets acquired," he said, voice digitized and distorted, like multiple frequencies layered into one.
Rebecca's faux casualness vanished instantly. She dropped her arms and instinctively stepped in front of Arthur.
But Connor was already moving.
He placed himself between her and the Hunters with zero hesitation, his feet steady on the cracked pavement. His fingers flicked the duel disk to life in one fluid motion.
"Connor, no—" Arthur's hand reached for his nephew, but the boy was already stepping forward.
"I got this," Connor said flatly. His voice had an edge to it—tempered steel, not defiance.
Rebecca's face tensed. "Are you sure?"
He didn't even look back. "Yeah."
The second Rare Hunter—bigger than the others, with glowing red eyes and a frame like a refrigerator—moved forward, only to be stopped by a hand gesture from the masked leader.
The leader's mask turned toward Connor, then gave a mock bow.
"I am Arkana," he announced, his voice somehow mocking and hollow all at once. "Former magician. Current executioner. Chosen servant of the True Master."
"Marik," Arthur muttered under his breath, stepping back and pulling Rebecca with him.
Arkana raised his left arm, revealing ports and wires built into the meat of it. "You're quite the prize, Connor Hawkins. The boy who stole Exodia from our grasp. The Master demands your elimination. But… I like to put on a show."
He gestured to the other Hunters behind him. "My assistants will watch. For now."
Connor narrowed his eyes, his face cold and still. His breathing was slow, deliberate. Not afraid—but focused. Rebecca had seen that look before—once, back at the tournament registration when a duelist mocked him for being too young. He hadn't said a word then either.
Now, his silence was louder than Arkana's threats.
The duel disks snapped to full display, and a glowing shimmer burst from the pavement—the holographic arena forming with a high-pitched hum. Red and blue lined borders stretched across the concrete, forming a small duel lot surrounded by dumpsters and broken brick walls.
Connor drew his hand, his cards fanning out with a smooth flick of his wrist.
"Let's get this over with," he said.
Arkana grinned beneath the mask. "Such fire… How delightful. I'll carve your name into the streets before this is done."
Rebecca's teeth clenched. Her hand hovered near her deck. "If those other two move, I'm stepping in."
Arthur nodded. "Agreed."
Across the field, Arkana gestured with theatrical flair, spinning his deck in one hand before inserting it with a flourish. "Let the curtains rise!"
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