Deep within the highest spire of Academia, the Chancellor's private briefing room was entirely cut off from the noise of the dueling arenas below. The room was vast, circular, and built from cold, polished black stone. In the center, a massive holographic projector hummed quietly, casting a soft purple light across the faces of the four men standing around it.
Leo Akaba stood at the head of the chamber. He wore his heavy, dark purple Chancellor's robes with thick golden embroidery running along the edges. His face was deeply lined with the heavy weight of his ambitions, his expression completely stern and unmoving. He did not look like a man playing a game; he looked like a king preparing to reshape reality.
"The preparation phase is officially complete," Leo Akaba stated, his voice booming with deep, absolute authority. He looked at the three men standing before him—his chosen instruments for the ultimate stage of the project. "The Standard Dimension has stabilized its high-energy Solid Vision network. The Maiami Championship begins today. This is the exact window we need."
Standing to his right was Sartorius. He wore a pristine, flowing white coat that reached all the way to his ankles, completely separate from all the standard uniforms of Academia. His long, silver-blue hair fell perfectly over his shoulders. His nature was entirely serene yet profoundly unsettling. He held a deck of tarot cards loosely in his pale fingers, gently flipping them over one by one without making a sound.
"The cards of fate do not lie, Professor." Sartorius said. His voice was smooth, elegant, and carried a melodic, almost theatrical rhythm. He spoke with a highly formal, aristocratic accent, drawing out his vowels with absolute calm. "The threads of the four dimensions are beginning to tangle exactly as you envisioned. The Standard Dimension believes they are hosting a high security behind a mere festival of entertainment. They cannot see the cosmic wheel turning right beneath them."
"I don't care about the wheel of fate, Sartorius." A confident voice interrupted.
Fubuki Tenjoin leaned casually against a stone pillar, entirely relaxed. He wore a modified, stylish white and blue captain's uniform with the top buttons deliberately left undone. He carried a sleek, black acoustic guitar strapped to his back, and a brilliant, movie-star smile sat comfortably on his face. His nature was bright, charismatic, and entirely playful. Though a sharp, dangerous heat and fire lingered in his eyes.
"The only thing that matters is putting on a truly unforgettable performance," Fubuki said, his tone warm, energetic, and full of casual charm. He spoke with a bouncy, modern accent, completely fluid and full of expressive life. "If we're going to crash our little party in Maiami City, we might as well do it with style. The crowds won't know whether to run or applaud when my beasts take the stage."
"This is not a theater production, Fubuki." Leo Akaba corrected coldly, his sharp eyes cutting toward the young captain. "Your division is responsible for securing the secondary extraction zones. If you let your desire for an audience compromise the perimeter, the consequences will be absolute."
"Oh, don't worry so much, Boss." Fubuki chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "A true star never misses his cue."
Standing perfectly still in the darkest corner of the room was the strongest member of the council, Ryo Marufuji.
The Supreme Commander of Academia's primary attack forces, the most lethal and unyielding combatant in the entire dimension. He wore a heavy, dark silver and black military trench coat with high, rigid shoulders that made him look like a fortress. His dark blue hair framed a face that was completely blank, hollow, and devoid of any human emotion. His stare was painless, so hollow, so powerless—as if he didn't have any humanity left inside him. He didn't play with cards, he didn't lean against pillars; he stood like an iron statue.
When Ryo spoke, his voice was entirely flat, robotic, and deadly quiet. He didn't use formal melodies like Sartorius, nor did he use casual flair like Fubuki. His words were entirely practical, sharp, and delivered with a slow, chilling precision.
"The forces are locked into the teleportation grid," Ryo stated, his cold voice cutting through the room like a steel blade. "My units do not require a performance to succeed. We cross over, we eliminate the local defense structures, and we secure the targets. If anyone stands between us and the completion of the project, they will be cleared from the board."
Sartorius stopped flipping his cards, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the commander. "Always so straightforward, Commander Marufuji. You move with such absolute propulsion that you risk blinding yourself to the subtle shifts in the universe."
"Winning just comes free with the execution of the order," Ryo replied coldly, his gaze remaining fixed on the holographic map of Maiami City. "I don't look at the sky to read stars. I look at the enemy's life points until they reach zero. That is the only thing that matters on the battlefield."
Leo Akaba nodded slowly, satisfied with the brutal focus of his strongest force. "Ryo is correct. Reiji has already brought the Xyz survivors into his circle. They are expecting a standard infiltration. They have no idea that the entire weight of our main captains is about to drop directly onto their heads."
Leo walked to the center of the room, his heavy robes rustling against the stone floor as the purple hologram grew larger, illuminating the entire chamber.
"Sartorius, you will deploy your division to disrupt their internal security communications," Leo commanded. "Fubuki, ensure the public arenas are completely contained. Ryo, your attack force will lead the direct assault on the central coordinates. Do not leave a single stone standing if it resists."
"The cards have already accepted this outcome," Sartorius murmured, a faint, mystical smile touching his lips.
"Understood." Fubuki said, giving a playful, two-finger salute as he adjusted the guitar strap on his shoulder. "Let's get ready for the big show."
Ryo Marufuji simply closed his eyes for a brief second, his hand resting firmly on the edge of his deck holder.
"The gate is opening soon, but result has already been decided."
# LDS
Inside the glass-paneled observation deck, Reiji Akaba tapped his tablet, closing Yuya Sakaki's official registration file.
"Sakaki Yuya has met the requirements," Reiji stated flatly. "His entry into the Junior Youth division is finalized."
Ryoho stood beside him, nodding silently. Sitting in a massive leather chair behind them was a young boy named Riley. He wore a bulky blue hoodie that completely swallowed his small frame, and a thick yellow scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck. His face was entirely pale, and his large, dark eyes held absolutely no light. They were completely blank, terrified, and devoid of individual will—like a doll waiting for an instruction. He had been quietly listening to everything.
"It's time for your match, Riley. Win." Ryoho said, turning at him." It doesn't matter if you play bad. But win."
Riley nodded in silence.
...
A few hours later, after the junior block's opening matches concluded, Ryoho stepped into the private competitor lounge. Riley sat alone, clutching his stuffed bear tightly against his chest.
"Congratulations on your victory against Ayu, Riley." Ryoho said softly, his voice dropping its cold edge for a brief moment. He placed a gentle hand on the boy's head. "You executed the strategy perfectly. But your work for the day is done here. Go straight to the secure sub-level rooms. Mother is waiting for you there, and you need to rest before the next phase begins."
Riley didn't look up; he simply nodded in silent obedience, slipping out of the chair to follow the order.
Once the boy left, Ryo turned toward the secondary exit. He needed to check the lower stadium perimeter by himself. The technical sensors in Sector 3 were experiencing minor, unexplained signal drops, and he trusted his own eyes more than the digital readouts.
...
Ryoho walked through a narrow, concrete alleyway connecting the secondary stadium blocks. Up ahead, he spotted a shadow.
Through the narrow gap of the concrete corridor, Ryo stopped. From few meters away, his sharp eyes locked onto the movement of a boy's lips. It was a local duelist, the same age as Futoshi, the one who Futoshi had defeated in today's match. His sharp, jagged haircut and aggressive body language made him look far more menacing.
Ryo's mind effortlessly translated the silent lip movements: "...hand over your cards right now, fat boy. Or I'll make sure you never roll into a duel arena again. You just got lucky today."
The bully was aggressively pressing his glowing Duel Disk against Futoshi's chest. Futoshi was trembling, his eyes tearing up, but his fists were clenched in stubborn, terrified defiance.
Ryo didn't speed up his pace. He stepped out of the shadows, his sneakers clicking softly.
"The rules of this tournament strictly forbid forcing someone to hand over personal property," Ryo's voice rang out. It wasn't loud, but it carried a freezing weight that seemed to instantly drop the temperature in the narrow alleyway.
The bully froze, his sneer faltering. He turned his head sharply. "Who do you think you are? This is none of your business!"
Ryo kept walking forward, his posture perfectly still, his red eyes staring into the boy with a dead, unblinking intensity. "I am someone no one can ever account for. If you press that disk against him for one more second, I will personally ensure your registration for future tournaments is permanently erased—along with your standing in the local circuit. Walk away while you still have a choice to make."
The absolute calmness in Ryo's delivery—the complete lack of hesitation or doubt—was terrifying. The bully's eyes widened as the sheer pressure of Ryo's presence hit him like a physical wall. The confidence vanished from his face, replaced by sudden panic. His hand began to shake violently against Futoshi's vest. Without a single word, the boy stumbled backward, his sneakers skidding on the dirt, and he fled down the corridor, scared.
Futoshi leaned slightly against the brick wall, rubbing his arm. Ryo approached smoothly, his face returning to an unreadable mask.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
"I didn't needed your help." He said flatly. "I could've just overwave him myself."
"Sorry for interrupting then," Ryo didn't counter. "But it is a duty as being one from LDS to flow everything fair and take care of things like these."
Futoshi was gonna turn away and leave.
"Futoshi, congratulations you on your victory today. You performed well."
Futoshi looked up, but instead of being relieved, his face flushed with sudden, hot anger. He stood up, puffing out his chest and pointing an accusatory finger.
"I don't want your fake congratulations! You LDS elites think you own everything! You walk around like you're better than everyone else, treating Dueling like a giant corporate math problem! You're completely crushing everyone's smiles just to show off your power!"
Ryoho remained completely unbothered by the outburst. He looked down at the younger boy with a calm, quiet gaze.
"Tell me, Futoshi... wouldn't you do absolutely anything to protect Youshow?" Ryoho asked smoothly, his voice even.
"Of course I would!" Futoshi snapped, his voice cracking. "We're a family! We protect each other!"
"Then you should understand," Ryo replied calmly. "I simply do the same for LDS. Our paths have crossed in an unfortunate way, but that friction is completely inevitable when people stand on opposite sides of a shifting world. Life is not a gifting entity; it does not hand out peaceful resolutions for free to those who merely wish for them. If you want to keep your sanctuary and keep smiling, you must grow strong enough to defend its borders from the realities outside."
Futoshi stared at him. His anger was still burning hot, but the heavy truth of Ryo's words forced him to lower his fists. He looked away, his jaw tight as he struggled with his emotions. He hated the cold logic of LDS, of Ryo, but he couldn't deny the weight of what had just happened. The truth.
"I still don't like you, and I don't like how you think," Futoshi muttered crossly, kicking a loose piece of gravel. He began to walk past Ryo toward the stadium entrance, pausing just for a fraction of a second before hiding his face in his jacket collar. "...But thank you for the help. Really."
After saying, he ran with speed.
Ryo make sure that bully doesn't come to Futoshi, as he looked until he make sure Futoshi had reached Youshow's people.
# Boardroom
Ryoho stepped through the automated security doors of the primary boardroom, the faint click of his sneakers muffling. The massive panoramic windows displayed the distant stadium, glowing under the vibrant neon lights of the ongoing duels.
Reiji didn't turn around immediately. He remained focused on his central terminal, where a high-level data crystallization sequence was reaching 100% completion. A sleek, metallic drawer beneath the console slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a set of freshly pressed cards radiating a faint, high-energy resonance.
"Reiji, the new cards are ready," Ryoho said, his voice entirely even as he walked up to the console. He looked directly at his brother. "But we don't have time to experiment with them right now. Deploying uncalibrated Pendulum algorithms into an active tournament field carries a severe margin of error."
"Don't worry," Reiji replied flatly, his glasses catching the green glow of the monitor as he slid the fresh deck into a secure transit capsule. "I already have a person who wants to duel with these cards. He wouldn't mind even if these haven't been tested practically. In fact, his particular brand of vanity thrives on exclusivity."
With a swift tap on the glass interface, a primary digital screen formed, flickering to life. Reiji initiated an encrypted, high-priority intra-stadium call.
The connection established instantly, and Sawatari Shingo's face appeared on the massive display. He was sitting in a luxury waiting lounge, casually swirling a glass of sparkling water. Wearing his black blazer-shirt. His signature tailored jacket draped elegantly over the back of his chair.
"Ah, Reiji! Ryo!" Sawatari preened, leaning toward his duel disk's camera with a brilliant, overly confident grin. "I assume you're calling to congratulate me in advance? Or perhaps you've finally realized that the opening ceremony lacked the true star power that only a I can provide?"
"Sawatari Shingo," Reiji interrupted, completely cutting through the theatrics without a shred of hesitation. "The upgraded corporate deck archetype we discussed has been finalized. It utilizes the latest high-density Real Solid Vision coding."
Sawatari's eyes lit up instantly, his arrogant posture straightening as he set his glass down. "The new tech? Beautiful! Hand it over. I'll show those open-division amateurs what a high-class, top-tier duelist actually looks like."
"The deck is entirely untested in live combat," Ryo noted calmly, stepping into the camera's view. "The tactical variance is highly volatile. If you made an error in execution, the backlash will eliminate your field presence entirely."
Sawatari let out a loud, dismissive laugh, waving his hand at the screen. "Please, Ryo! You're talking to Shingo Sawatari! I don't need practice rounds or safety manuals. Geniuses don't test their masterpieces—they just perform them. Send the automated delivery drone to my private lounge. I'm going to turn the next match into an advertisement for the absolute peak of LDS supremacy!"
Reiji closed the channel with a single keystroke, the screen retracting back into the ceiling structure as the room fell back into its cold, silent equilibrium.
"He will provide the exact baseline data we require," Reiji stated, his voice dropping into its standard, calculating rhythm. "If Academia's vanguard attempts to hijack, we will already have new variables."
Ryoho walked toward the window, looking down at the structural pillars of the stadium. "Let's see if his performance can actually live up to his script."