The sun hung lazily above the glittering expanse of sea, its golden rays scattering diamond-like reflections across the waves. The massive cruise ship drifted steadily, its decks alive with laughter, leisure, and the soft thrum of engines deep below.
On the upper deck, Yumiko splashed in the turquoise pool, her laughter ringing like wind chimes in the salty air. She waved with dripping arms.
"Shoto! Come on!" she called, her eyes sparkling.
But Shoto, sitting off to the side, wasn't really there. His lips pressed together as he blew idle bubbles into the water with his mouth, staring at nothing. His gaze was hollow, swallowed by a galaxy far beyond the horizon.
Nearby, Mai lounged on a chair, her sunglasses mirroring the endless blue above. She looked like a sun-drunk cat, content to let the warmth seep into her bones.
Not far from her, Ren and Ryuji were locked in battle—on simulated surfboards, of all things—slicing through holographic waves projected on a wide screen. Their shouts and laughter rose and fell like the tides themselves.
Down in the arcade, neon lights flickered over Yuumo as she cracked her knuckles, standing at a shooting game beside Endo.
"This one gives double tickets," she muttered, her eyes sharp.
Endo grinned, loading in a coin. "Then we're winning the jackpot."
At the edge of the deck, Hina leaned against the guardrail, her fiery red hair whipping in the ocean breeze. She closed her eyes, listening as if the waves were whispering secrets to her.
It looked like a perfect day. But not everyone shared in the sunlight.
Below deck, the ship's bright chatter faded. Hikaru walked the narrow hallway alone, his footsteps echoing against the spotless white walls. He stopped. One door stood out from the rest—aged, scuffed, and out of place, like it belonged to another time entirely.
Why would a cruise ship even have a basement?
The hinges groaned as the door opened, revealing a spiral staircase vanishing into dimness. A chill gust brushed past him, unnatural in the stagnant air—like a whisper across his skin.
Hikaru descended carefully, every step a warning. At the bottom, the air changed. Heavy. Cold.
"You're here."
The voice cut through the silence, sharp as ice.
From the shadows stepped a figure with silver hair, his eyes gleaming with unreadable intent.
"Tetsuya," Hikaru muttered, his guard rising.
The boy smirked, leaning against the wall with practiced ease, arms crossed.
"Hikaru, right? Tch… took you long enough." His tone carried an edge of mockery, though his stance was calm.
"What are you doing here—" Hikaru started, but Tetsuya cut him off.
"The cat told me to join. Said in twenty minutes Zan-Xi's little gang will be here too. So much for that whole 'taking a break' thing."
Hikaru narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you talking abou—"
The ship shuddered violently beneath them, throwing both boys off balance. Dust rained from the ceiling.
Above deck, chaos broke instantly.
Yumiko scrambled from the pool, clutching her towel as the deck pitched. "What's happening?!" she cried. Shoto rose to follow her, but the ground beneath his feet rippled unnaturally. His eyes widened.
The polished wood turned to sand.
"What—what the…!?" Shoto gasped, frozen in fear. Before anyone could react, the sand beneath him gave way, sucking him down into the depths. His scream cut off as he vanished, swallowed whole.
The others burst onto the deck just as Hikaru and Tetsuya emerged. Yuumo opened her mouth to demand an explanation, but her voice cracked into a scream the instant she noticed Tetsuya standing beside Hikaru.
"Y-you!?"
Their cries rose in unison—Yumiko, Ryuji, Ren, Hina—all recoiling from the silver-haired boy's sudden presence.
But Tetsuya didn't look at them. His eyes were fixed on the horizon.
The ocean… was gone.
Sand stretched endlessly in every direction, swallowing the sea like a desert born from nowhere. The ship tilted precariously, groaning as if the weight of this impossible world pressed against its hull.
Then, only forty feet away, the sand erupted upward, cascading in massive plumes. Rising from the earth, stone upon stone, a titanic pyramid towered toward the sky. Its golden tip gleamed in the sunlight like a spear aimed at heaven.
Yumiko's breath caught. "Wait—Shoto… Where's Shoto!?"
Shoto awoke coughing, his chest heavy, his head spinning. He lay on cold stone, the walls around him flickering with firelight. Rows of torches blazed to life, revealing ancient corridors lined with faded hieroglyphs. The inscriptions were broken, scarred by time, impossible to read.
Staggering to his feet, Shoto pressed a hand to the wall. "Can this day get any wei—"
A voice, brittle and ancient, sliced through the silence.
"You're finally here… King Kazami. At last, I can destroy you."
From the shadows, a figure dragged itself forward—a grotesque body wrapped in withered bandages, its form barely human. In its right hand gleamed a golden staff, glowing faintly with an otherworldly aura.
Shoto's blood ran cold. His legs trembled as sweat poured down his face.
The mummy raised its left arm, and the bandages came alive, snapping through the air like serpents. They coiled around Shoto's waist before he could react. With terrifying strength, the creature slammed him into one wall—then another—before yanking him close.
Its decayed fist crashed into his face, sending him skidding across the floor in a haze of dust and blood. Shoto coughed violently, crimson staining his lips. His vision blurred as the towering figure straightened.
The fist it had used began to crumble—chunks of brittle flesh and bone falling away—yet before Shoto's eyes, the hand reformed itself, whole again.
"I have not fought in nine hundred years," the mummy rasped, its voice like sand scraping stone. "But today, my strength returns. Pray that fool Zan-Xi holds his bargain… because your end has already been written."
The chamber trembled as the Pharaoh stepped forward, each stride echoing like thunder in the tomb. His staff scraped against the stone, leaving faint sparks of gold in its wake. Shoto, battered and bloody, forced himself onto trembling arms. His breaths came ragged, every inhale sharp against his cracked ribs.
Aching in pain, Shoto collapsed to one knee. His breath rattled in his chest, blood dripping from his lip.
"I… I don't have the swords with me. I can't even… transform into that…"
But the words stuck in his throat as sudden flashes sparked in his mind—memories of battles past. He saw himself with dragon-like scales curling around his eyes, his fearful demeanor gone, replaced by something cold, calm, and unyielding. That side of him… the side he hadn't touched since the fight with Tetsuya and the brief clash with Juxo.
Shoto staggered, clutching his ribs as he rose to his feet. His shadow trembled against the torchlit walls.
"King Kazami," the Pharaoh rasped, his voice like sand grinding against stone. The torchlight flickered as his bandages writhed and unraveled, twisting through the air like snakes. "Nine centuries I have waited for this moment. You wear his name, his face… but you lack his might."
Shoto scoffed, though his voice shook.
"Shut up with all this king crap. I don't know or care about any of th—"
He never finished.
The Pharaoh's sunken eyes flared with golden light. With a guttural snarl, he slammed his staff into the ground. A surge of power rippled outward, splitting the stone. From below, jagged whips of sand erupted, lashing at Shoto's chest.
"AGHHHHH!"
The force flung him into a nearby column. Stone cracked, raining fragments as his body bounced off and hit the floor. He coughed blood, his vision blurring.
The Pharaoh advanced without pause. With a casual flick of his hand, bandages shot out, coiling tightly around Shoto's ankle. In an instant, the boy was yanked skyward, swung like a ragdoll, and slammed into the floor.
The sound of bone against stone echoed horrifically through the chamber.
Shoto screamed. His nerves lit with white-hot agony. His arms twitched uselessly at his sides.
"You are weak," the Pharaoh sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "A pitiful shadow of the king who once defied me."
The bandages reeled Shoto upward again, jerking him close. The Pharaoh's decayed fist smashed into his stomach with devastating force. Spit and blood sprayed from Shoto's mouth as his body folded around the blow. Then, like trash, he was discarded—slammed into the ground and left heaving in pain.
Shoto gasped for breath, his chest searing. Every inhale was like swallowing glass.
"D-damn it… I can't even dodge… I can't even react…"
He clawed at the floor, dragging his broken body forward, streaks of red smearing across the stone. His knees buckled, but he forced himself upright again, fists trembling.
"Still alive?" The Pharaoh tilted his head, a cruel grin forming beneath his wrappings. "Good. Then I'll break you slowly."
With a cry that was equal parts rage and desperation, Shoto staggered forward. He lunged at the mummy with a shaky fist, but his strength gave out. His knuckles barely grazed the air before he collapsed face-first at the monster's feet.
"Pathetic," the Pharaoh hissed. "Perish. You are nothing but a worthless reincarnation of the man I once fought."
He raised his staff high. The golden tip ignited, blazing with crackling energy. The hall darkened as shadows lengthened and pressed in. One by one, the torches blew out with each pulse of his power. The world plunged into near darkness, save for the Pharaoh's glowing eyes.
Shoto lay on the cold floor, his colored eyes dimming, his spirit drained. His head slumped forward as he leaned against the wall, on the edge of collapse.
A memory flickered in his mind, unbidden—Zan-Xi's voice, cold and mocking:
"So let me ask you again: are you sure you know what you're doing? Do yourself a favor—surrender the swords while you still can. Otherwise, you're dead. Only fools stick around long enough to be crushed by pros."
Shoto clenched his teeth, his body trembling.
The Pharaoh's footsteps echoed closer, deliberate and merciless. The bandages lashed out once more, this time wrapping tightly around Shoto's left arm. The mummy yanked, intending to drag him helplessly forward.
But the boy didn't budge.
The bandages strained, pulling harder—but Shoto resisted. His eyes, once wide with fear, narrowed. The trembling stopped. His expression shifted, calm settling over him like nightfall.
Black, scale-like markings crept from beneath his eyes, spreading across his cheekbones.
The Pharaoh froze, tilting his head. Then, slowly, a grin split his ruined face.
"…There you are."