When Atem's feet touched solid ground, it was not the warm sand of Egypt or the polished stone of the Pharaoh's palace. It was jagged, cold rock, slick with moisture. He opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to a darkness that pressed in from all sides.
The first thing he noticed was the quiet. Not the silence of peace, but a hollow, heavy quiet that made every drip of water echo like a heartbeat in the dark. His eyes traced the shadows—stalactites dripping into shallow puddles, walls glistening with dampness, and narrow tunnels stretching out into the unknown.
Atem drew a breath, tasting the air—metallic, heavy, and damp, tinged with a faint mineral bite. He whispered, more to himself than to anyone else:
"Where am I?"
The sound of his own voice startled him; it seemed too loud in the cave, bouncing back to him in distorted echoes.
And then—
<
The voice was sudden, crisp, and clear, not heard with his ears but carved directly into his thoughts. Atem froze, his entire body reacting before his mind could. His heart skipped, and his hand instinctively clenched into a fist, ready for danger.
"Who is there?" His voice rang sharp, commanding, honed by years of standing as Pharaoh and King of Games. "Show yourself!"
For a moment, only the dripping water answered him. Then the voice came again, calm and steady, like the whisper of a priest reciting eternal truths:
<>
Atem's breath hitched. He stepped back, boots scraping against rock, eyes narrowing as if he could pierce the darkness to reveal the speaker. But no figure appeared. Only that voice lingered, resonant and undeniable, inside his mind.
"You… are inside me?" he asked, tone lower, skeptical yet steady. "A skill… speaking like a spirit?"
<
The Pharaoh's brow furrowed. He had faced gods, shadows, and puzzles that twisted reality. Yet this was different. A voice inseparably bound to his soul. An unseen partner.
He exhaled slowly, straightening his posture, his instincts softening into calculation. "Very well. If you are bound to me, then you are no enemy. But understand this: I am Pharaoh Atem. I walk no path blindly. If you serve me, then speak truth and clarity always."
<
At the sound of that word—Pharaoh—something stirred inside him. His aura, his dignity, his authority, all the weight of who he was in his previous life, seemed to thrum with acknowledgment. The cave itself felt smaller for a moment, as if bending to his presence.
Still, suspicion lingered. His voice grew quieter. "Then tell me this—why am I here? Why this cave? Why this world?"
The Oracle's tone was unshaken, patient, almost reassuring:
<
Atem's eyes narrowed, and his hand brushed the stone wall as he steadied himself. He could feel it now—an undercurrent. A weight in the air, far deeper in the cave. A pressure like a slumbering giant, radiating faint but undeniable power.
"A sealed presence…" he murmured. "I see. So fate has placed me at the edge of danger once more."
The Oracle's voice softened, though it never lost its divine clarity:
<
Atem closed his eyes briefly, allowing the truth of those words to settle. His heart was steady now, his suspicion tempered by resolve. Slowly, a small smile—serious, determined—formed on his lips.
"Very well," he said, voice low but resolute, echoing into the vast silence of the cavern. "Then let this cave be my proving ground. And you, Oracle of Eternity—you will guide me. But never forget, I am no pawn of destiny. I carve my own path."
The Oracle answered with simple, unwavering loyalty:
<
And so, Atem's first steps in this strange world were taken not in the company of friends or allies, but in the quiet company of a voice born from eternity—his guide, his judge, his mirror. The cave stretched before him, dark and dangerous, yet the Pharaoh's spirit did not waver.
Atem's voice was steady in the hush of the cave. He set his jaw, the motion quiet but irrevocable. "First things first," he said aloud, as much to himself as to whatever voice answered him, "I must master these gifts before I step out. Who knows what waits beyond this mouth."
<
Atem inhaled slowly; the damp air of the cave filled his lungs. He felt the familiar thrill of a duel—anticipation sharpened by purpose. "Begin."
<
<
<
<
<
Atem absorbed each clause like a commander reading a dossier. The Oracle's syntax was precise; its tone promised no miracles—only mechanics.
<
The cave air shivered. Atem felt the King of Games' lattice sketch the vectors of falling droplets above him; the Oracle used that prediction to anchor a focal point. Light braided into language—runes of intent—then condensed into figure.
From the ribboned sigil stepped the Dark Magician. Where a card would once have been: a man in indigo robes, a staff that seemed carved from the night itself, every edge precise. He exhaled a breath that smelled faintly of ozone and old parchment. He did not speak unless addressed; his presence was a clean, militarized calm.
Then Kuriboh: a round, fuzzy ball of warm, almost mischievous light—fragile in appearance, but with a tangible sheen of defensive power about it. The Celtic Guardian followed, slender and poised, sword held in a stance that suggested parries rather than strikes. One by one the basic roster took shape—each spirit a concentrated archetype of the card Atem remembered.
<
Atem regarded the assembled guardians with a calm scrutiny. "So they are not puppets," he said. "They are partners—at least for now. Teach me to command them."
<
The Oracle laid out the practical steps with precise calm—like a master issuing drills.
Summoning (basic procedure):
1. Focus your will—visualize the spirit's silhouette and role. (King of Games draws the probability signature; your certainty tightens the call.)
2. Shape a sigil of intent with a small outflow of magicules—traces that the Millennium Soul can anchor to spirit echoes.
Declare the duel parameters aloud and with will—space, duration, stakes (e.g., absorb-on-death).
King of Games projects a probability net; the Oracle adjusts for fairness and rules.
3. The duel proceeds within the net—outside interference is reduced; combat becomes a contest of wills and calculations.
Confirm absorption when the Oracle detects a coherent essence (<
2. Place your hand over the dissolving motes or direct your will into the creature's residue—this opens the archive gate.
3. Essence transcribes into your Spirit Deck; you feel an inward pulse as the magicules integrate.
4. The newly archived spirit appears in your internal catalogue and can later be used to bolster existing guardians or be used as energy.
Atem memorized the steps and tested each with his mind's eye—visual sequence, physical gestures, voice, will. The Oracle provided live correction.
After that Atem decided to put it in practice....
Atem chose a controlled exercise: one bat, one guardian. He would practice the whole loop—summon, bind duel, victory, absorption.
He manifested Dark Magician deliberately, feeling the flow of magicules coil into the staff's form.
He used King of Games to trace the bat's probable dive. Probabilities unfurled as pale lines through the cave's air.
He established a Binding Duel ring just large enough for the bat and the Dark Magician.
The duel was quick: Dark Magician pressured, the bat resorted to erratic feints; Atem shifted probability gently—nudging outcomes by calculating minimal changes in Dark Magician's stance until the best path for victory opened.
When the bat fell, the Oracle intoned: <
He felt the bat's essence—a rush of raw instinct, the feel of wings, echolocation like tiny needles—slide into the cavity at his sternum. A new sigil bloomed there: Giant Bat — Spirit. The increase in his magicule reserve was small but measurable: a quiet bloom in his chest.
He practiced the loop on spiders, centipedes, and long-skulled bats in sequence. Each absorption left a cold flicker, then warmth. Each time he archived a spirit, the Oracle catalogued it for him—name, schematic, suggested uses, weaknesses.
<
Atem experimented with transfers. He would absorb a centipede, then focus that essence into a summoned Gaia the Fierce Knight. The knight's strikes took on a subtle toxin weave—useful against thick hides. The process required additional will and cost, but the synergy was invaluable. The Oracle warned about blunt transfer: <
Atem learned quickly that raw summoning without strategy drained him. The King of Games' probability nets helped him choose minimal-energy paths to victory:
Use Kuriboh to absorb damage so expensive summons are preserved.
Use Baby Dragon and Giant Bats to shape the battlefield, forcing oppponents into predictable arcs where Dark Magician can land decisive spells.
Reserve binding duels for fights where outcomes must be clean (e.g., archivable opponents or when the environment is hazardous).
The Oracle provided percentages and adjustments in real time: <