He was out in the first round. Him. Weevil Underwood, the Japanese National Duel Monsters Champion. And to a random duelist. Not to his old rival Rex Raptor. Not to the former U.S. Duel Monsters Champion Bandit Keith, who was rumored to have snuck onto the island to settle unfinished business with Maximillion Pegasus. Not even to Mako Tsunami, the third-place finisher of the same tournament Weevil gained his title in, or to the boy who defeated Seto Kaiba himself, Yugi Muto.

  None of those competitors had done it. Weevil Underwood had lost to a nobody. A nobody who’d destroyed his field, torn down his Great Moth, gave him advice after the duel, and then left without a second thought about who he’d just defeated. Leaving him, Weevil Underwood, still sitting in a steel chair at the Duel Monsters table in the battle box, trying to rationalize how in the hell he’d lost.

  How?

  How?

  The combo Weevil had successfully pulled off at the start of the duel was not something any ordinary duelist could even fathom creating, much less making it work in a live game. Yes, he did jump the gun a tinge and negate his carefully prepared terrain advantage with DNA Surgery, but how was he to know that a random nobody would be able to so naturally thread his way past every obstacle Weevil created?

  Weevil furiously shook his head. His hands gripped the steel table, shakily grasping at that firm surface as if it could provide some measure of comfort. A random duelist. No, not truly random. There was news through the grapevine that he was present at Blue Friday on the night of Guriko’s death. Additional news, no more than mere unsubstantiated whispers, suggested Phillip Jenson might have been involved. That he’d personally defeated the boss of the Mori Family in a game of duel monsters, gotten into a physical altercation with him, and then claimed victory in that as well. Two men had entered Guriko's office on the second floor of Blue Friday that night. Only one man left the office alive.

  All mere rumors, of course. Weevil hadn't put much thought into them before now. Hell, he hadn't cared one bit about the Mori Family's destruction. They were occasional business partners, that was all. They wanted an in to the Duel Monsters scene, and Weevil was one of the many collaborators who helped them do it for cash and other... favors for things which would be inconvenient to handle on the right side of the law. Beyond that, they had virtually no relationship.

  Then there was the man’s connection to Solomon Muto. This too was naught but a rumor. Phillip was certainly no protégé of the old man, no, that could only be Yugi Muto. Still, the fact that there was some sort of connection between Phillip Jenson and Solomon Muto was undeniable. It could explain the cards Phillip possessed, that was for sure. The man had the cards and the cards won the day.

  That was all there was to it. The cards won the day. Yes. Weevil lifted his head. There was no other explanation. Through the might of Solomon Muto's cards, Phillip Jenson found victory. No ability was needed with those. You draw the cards, put them on the field, and let them play the game for you. Weevil wasn't out-skilled in their game. He was out-carded. Remove Solomon Muto's cards from the equation and Weevil would have won. This was no different of a situation than Yugi Muto's Exodia. It was why he did what he did on the boat. There was no doubt about that fact.

  Weevil’s eyebrows furrowed together. That was all well and good, but the other clear fact on the table was his lack of star chips. Weevil’s entire starting allotment of two star chips was gone. Spent foolishly, he could now admit, on a game against an incompetent idiot piloting Solomon Muto’s deck.

  Surprisingly enough, there was no black-suited security guard here to escort him off the island yet. Weevil had seen it a few times already when he’d been walking with Phillip Jenson and the foreigner to his battle box of choice. Short games with clear-cut winners, leaving the loser gripped by the arm by the island security to be escorted straight back to the docks.

  There was none here. He knew not the reason, but even that mattered little other than to provide him some time, even if it was only a few minutes, to find a way to stay in the tournament a while longer.

  The door to the battle box opened and something ‘thumped’ onto the table. Weevil glanced up. A security guard? Was his moment of hope extinguished just like that? No sooner than Weevil looked up than that stray thought fell silent.

  The man before him was no security guard. He was a tall fellow, tall and skinny like a scarecrow clad in human flesh and draped in a long black cloak, one of which was covered from head to foot in large numbers of strange, almost mystical-looking sigils. The man’s face was obscured by the hood of this same cloak. It was draped over his head to cover much of his features, other than a pair of bright blue eyes that seemed to pierce out of the shadow created by the hood. It was impossible to tell any of the man’s features beyond that, at least until a startlingly pale hand crept out from within the man’s sleeves to gesture at the object that had landed on the center of the table.

  It was a glove. A dueling gauntlet, to be more precise. Similar in appearance to the one Weevil himself wore on his right hand. Yet, the more he stared at the gauntlet (partially in shock, due to the sudden appearance of the cloaked man), the stranger it looked. Where there was one row on Weevil’s gauntlet made to hold star chips – a total of ten, which was all one needed to gain entry to the semi-finals in the castle, this gauntlet possessed two rows in total, and one row was already half full.

  But Weevil’s attention did not linger on the star chips for long. Once his gaze reached that part of the glove, the bloodstains on the cuff came into full view. It was dried blood, no doubt about that. Weevil had seen it a few times before in his time spent around the seedier places in Domino City. But the dried blood was not what alarmed him. It was the sight of what he was pretty sure was a wrist that did. There was a severed hand inside that glove.

  “You appear to be in quite the bind, young man.” A voice as smooth as oil and honey came from the cloaked man’s mouth, sounding as if it was dripping gently into Weevil’s ears with every word that was spoken. Without waiting for Weevil’s response, the man continued. “Your star chips are spent, but still you appear to possess quite the formidable duelist’s spirit. I wonder… if there was still a way for you to stay in the tournament through the act of a simple duel, would you take it?”

  Weevil finally found his voice. His eyes darted between the glove with the severed hand inside of it and the cloaked man. The glove was a shock, but Weevil was no ignorant rube. If he could deal with the yakuza without being on the back foot, he could gain the advantage in this situation as well, severed hand be damned.

  “I assume you’re offering the star chips in this… glove to me. What’s the catch? What do you get if you win the duel?”

  “You.” The cloaked man replied sweetly. “I get you.”

  Weevil made a noise of understanding. This man was a scout searching for dueling talent. That made perfect sense. If Weevil lost here (which he would not), the man would gain access to the strength, skill, and experience of the Japanese National Duel Monsters Champion. If Weevil won, only a few star chips would be lost, and there would still be room for collaboration afterward, if the idea proved interesting.

  Weevil gave his deck a quick shuffle and placed it on the table. The cloaked man did the same.

  “Works for me. I, Weevil Underwood, accept those terms. What can I call you?”

  In response to Weevil’s question, one more feature of the man’s face became visible from under his hood, other than his piercing blue eyes. It was a smile, wide, but not impossibly wide. Bright, but not impossibly bright. Yet despite the apparent humanity of the gesture, that man’s smile still looked truly uncanny. Weevil blinked. Did the shadows just move? He shook his head slightly. No. He was tired after spending a night trapped in that damned trash can. There was no way shadows could move on their own.

  All of a sudden he could feel a surge of wild hatred for Phillip Jenson appearing once more. Even the residual alarm brought by the glove that was still on the table felt suppressed by that near-rabid emotion. Stuffed in a trash can just for taking a chance to weaken a competitor! How ridiculous! How humiliating!

  “Ah, sorry about that, young man.” The cloaked man said through his uncanny smile. “That was impolite of me. My name, of course you would want my name. You can call me… Blue Spring. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, as brief as that shall be.”

  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  One hour. One singular hour. Not hours. Not plural, but singular. Hour. No matter how Phil phrased it in his mind, the fact that he and Jean had spent an entire fucking hour trying to get out of the forest not only boggled his mind, but flat-out pissed him off. Phil was a solid woodsman. There was a clear trail to follow. Not a single duelist bothered them along the way.

  But it still took an hour to get out of the forest.

  “Fuck Pegasus.” Phil decided once the forest was to their back and the grassland was in full view.

  “Fuck Pegasus.” Jean agreed.

  “We followed the trail.”

  “Oui.”

  “We didn’t step off.”

  “Oui.”

  “We were good little boys. Not morons who go off trail, but good little boys who follow the trail. You know, the marked one.”

  “Oui.”

  “I mean, who makes a trail that dogshit? I want to know.”

  “Pegasus, it would appear.” Jean sent one last shuddering look over his shoulder toward the forest.

  "That settles it," Phil said, folding his arms. "I still don’t care if we make it to the semi-finals, but we’re gonna get in that castle either way and steal everything that’s not nailed down. Because fuck that trail and fuck Pegasus. I want revenge and I like money.”

  Jean held out his hand. Phil firmly grasped it. The promise was made; the pact was sealed. During the chaos of the semi-finals and finals, the two brothers would explore their inner kleptomaniac. At least they weren’t in the forest any longer. The musty woodland smell was gone, replaced by the fresh breeze swirling through fields of grass going far out to the horizon until they met with mountain or sea.

  "Think that's Yugi and the gang?" Phil abruptly changed the topic and nodded his head toward a battle box in the distance. It was hard to say for sure, but the people watching from outside the box (one of whom sported a head of suspiciously spiky hair) did lend some credibility to the question.

  Jean squinted his eyes. “Might be.”

  Without any further ado they began to sprint as fast as possible toward the box in the distance, only to halt as soon as they were just a hair out of earshot. They shared a look. Moving as one they crept forward, making their footsteps as soft and silent as possible. The grass, reaching up to their knees in some places, rustled slightly.

  Not one of the five people watching from outside the box noticed. Moving slower and slower, Phil and Jean crouched low during their approach. Within the box was a familiar sight to Phil – Joey Wheeler vs. Rex Raptor. As far as he could tell, the duel was still in full swing. Neither of the duelists inside the box noticed the approaching duo either.

  They crept closer. The wind rushed through the grass. Yugi, Tea, Tristan, and Bakura were laser-focused on the game inside the box. Mai Valentine, standing a few feet apart from them, was glaring at Rex.

  The second they were close enough, Phil and Jean abandoned any attempts at stealth to jump out and scream like twin banshees. Yugi, Tea, and Tristan all jumped as one, letting out yelps of their own. Even Mai Valentine started, holding a hand over her heart out of reflex. Only Bakura was unaffected. He simply stared blankly at Phil and Jean, who were laughing their asses off.

  “YOU!” Tea shouted wrathfully. Yugi was doubled over, his face still as white as a sheet. Both of those reactions only served to make Phil and Jean laugh even harder, at least until Tea clocked Phil right in the head with a thrown backpack. Jean stumbled backward, his sides still heaving and his hands held up in mock surrender.

  “Mercy! I surrender!” Jean cried out. The laughter filling his tone earned him several light-hearted smacks from Tea. Phil picked up her backpack and handed it back to her. A dangerous thing to do, perhaps, but also the honorable path to take.

  “I-I’m awake now.” Yugi stuttered.

  Tristan joined them in laughing uproariously once he got over his surprise. “You really got us there dudes!”

  “What’s the score?” Phil jerked his head toward the battle box, where Joey and Rex were still absorbed in their game without any heed toward the events outside of their small realm.

  “Joey beat Mai over there. Yugi beat Kaiba’s little brother. Not much action other than that.”

  “Mokuba?” Phil said out of reflex. He was barely able to keep a follow-up question about Mako Tsunami spilling from his lips. Wasn't Yugi supposed to have dueled him before this? Or were things changed because Phil took the game with Weevil? Would it happen later on or not at all?

  “You know Mokuba?” Tristan asked, forcing Phil’s wandering mind back to the present conversation. Surprise was written all across Tristan’s face.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Right. Timey-wimey shit. He knew the future Mokuba but not the past one. Phil shrugged off the question. “Something like that.”

  “Poor kid was on the island by himself.” Tea cut in.

  Phil nodded. That would track. Since Pegasus was in the middle of his little corporate takeover of Kaiba Corp, Mokuba was busy escaping the millionaire’s goon squad while also trying to prevent the game between Yugi and Pegasus from happening. And since Yugi’s duel with Mokuba was already done and dusted… that probably meant the kid was carded by Pegasus by now. Or was close to.

  He felt a tinge of exasperation come on. “Wow you guys have been busy. I’ve had like one total duel since the start. Meanwhile, Yugi and Joey got a full gauntlet of duels one after the other.”

  "Don't go into the forest. The trails are terrible." Jean explained.

  "Roger that. Oh, and there was the puppet guy with Kaiba's deck. Nearly forgot." Tristan continued. "The security made Yugi duel him after Mokuba."

  At this, Tea’s face took on a look of true anger. It was nothing like what she’d recently directed at Phil and Jean for their prank. That anger had still been lighthearted. This… Phil could feel goosebumps on his skin.

  “And they took Mokuba away while we were watching the duel!” She growled with clenched fists. “If I get my hands on those creeps…”

  Phil nodded along. Even though he understood Pegasus’s reasons for doing what he did, that was still a major dick move.

  While Tea continued to mutter a series of increasingly dark things about the whole Mokuba situation and what she wanted to do to those security guards if she ever ran into them again, Phil cast his gaze onto the duel happening inside the battle box. It was dead even, but that wasn't quite what caused Phil's eyebrows to raise. It was the cards in play and the weird-ass life point values that did.

  Joey: 325 Rex: 800

  “Black Tyranno (2800/2000) attacks your Gearfried the Iron Knight (2000/1800)!”

  A massive jet-black T-Rex bore down on a knight made of unyielding iron, both of them benefiting from a field spell in play – the battle box's environmental Wasteland field spell for Rex's dinosaur monsters, and Joey's own Sogen field spell for his warriors.

  That was new. Well, frankly Weevil’s Ultimate Insect sub-strategy was new as well, but still. It was kind of crazy that Rex had seemingly branched off his manga/anime strategy of 'summoning big level four dinosaur normal monsters and hoping for the best'. Here… Black Tyranno wasn't great, but it was a hell of a lot better than Two-Headed King Rex beatdown. And Joey having Gearfried this early, when Phil could have sworn it was a Battle City card…

  Was this a perfectly good representation of the butterfly effect on crack? The life points, the rule changes, and now random deck upgrades.

  But the battle wasn’t over yet. Before the massive dinosaur’s jaws finished closing around the iron knight’s body, Joey frantically flipped over a trap card.

  “Aww yeah! Skull Dice, give me some luck! This card lets me roll a die and make your monsters lose attack and defense points equal to the number times 100 until the end of this turn!”

  Phil nodded along. Another Battle City card. Sure. Whatever. Fuck it.

  Yugi bit his fingernails as the holographic die spun through the air.

  Six.

  “That fucking bastard!” Phil let out a whoop. “Lucky little shit you are, Joey!”

  Black Tyranno (2800/2000 -> 2200/1400).

  Hearing Phil’s shouts, Joey grinned. But he wasn’t done yet. "That still ain't enough, I know, I know! So hows about this? You've seen the nasty dice, now here's the nice dice! My second face-down card, Graceful Dice! It does the same as Skull Dice, except that instead of your monsters losing attack and defense, my monsters gain attack and defense!"

  A second die spun through the air. Yugi no longer bit at his fingernails, but instead stared stoically at the battle box with his arms crossed over each other. It was Yami Yugi, looking somewhat impressed with Joey’s risky play.

  “That means Joey just needs a two or higher!” Tristan exclaimed.

  “Come on! Don’t let that two-bit duelist take you out! He’s a beginner! All of this is just beginner’s luck!” Mai shouted. Rex instantly turned to face her while the die spun through the air.

  “SHUT IT! YOU LOST TO HIM ALREADY!”

  “You! That was nothing but bad luck!” Mai sputtered out, but she had no real comeback to that. She truly had lost to Joey once before. Nothing could change that fact.

  The holographic die clattered to a halt on the table.

  Six.

  Gearfried the Iron Knight (2000/1800 -> 2600/2400).

  Phil sank to his knees, his head in his hands. "The gambling GOAT. The fucking MVP. He can't keep getting away with this!"

  The funniest part of all was that Rex didn’t even seem surprised by Joey’s second six. Was his experience as a professional duelist, seeing the tides turn in an instant, or was Joey just that insane and they were already several gambling cards deep into the game before Phil even showed up?

  Tristan sensed Phil’s unspoken question before he could voice it.

  “He’s already flipped heads on Time Wizard twice by now.”

  Phil nodded. Sometimes he forgot how much Joey liked gambling-themed cards. “Okay. Yeah. Sure. Got it. Hey Joey, after the tournament, how about we sneak you into a casino?” Frankly it was less surprising that Joey had resolved the wizard that many times, and more surprising that Rex was still in the fucking game after eating that effect to the face twice. A sign his second-place result at the big national tournament wasn't entirely for show, at least.

  Joey shot Phil a double thumbs up, looking quite excited at the idea, at least until Tea fixed him with a dirty look and he rearranged his face into a horrendous frown that suggested someone close to him had recently died a most terrible death. The double thumbs up morphed into a double thumbs down.

  Jean leaned close to speak into Phil’s ear. “Lads trip only you think?”

  That earned a grin from Phil. “Aye.”

  Once Rex’s Black Tyranno had finished crumbling into dust via a swift bisection from Gearfried’s arm-mounted blade, it was essentially over. Rex’s remaining monster, Black Brachios (2000/1300), died in mutual combat with Gearfried, leaving the field wide open for Joey’s newly summoned Baby Dragon (1200/700) to strike directly and end the game.

  "YES!" Joey cheered out while Rex not only glumly pushed his star chips over, but also a card, Red-Eyes Black Dragon, which Joey took. Phil looked from Joey to Rex to Mai. Joey was reveling in his victory, Rex was dispirited… and Mai, for some reason, looked happy, even though she was the one who wanted Rex to beat Joey in the first place.

  Once more Tristan began to explain before Phil could say anything.

  “On top of the star chip bet there was a card ante made near the end of the duel, right before you showed up. Joey’s Time Wizard and Rex’s Red-Eyes.”

  “Ah. Mai didn’t want Rex to get ahold of Time Wizard.” Phil realized.

  Yugi nodded in agreement. “Joey used it well against Mai before.”

  By now Joey had made his way out of the battle box, leaving Rex behind where he sat in stunned disbelief. Phil bumped fists with the degenerate gambling addict.

  “Grats on the win.”

  “Yeah! Now we need more duelists to fight! Oh, and thanks for the tip Phil. You know, about Mai’s weird trick.” Joey directed those last words to Mai. "I started getting psyched out by them in our duel earlier but then I remembered what you said on the boat. It's nothing but perfume!"

  Yugi turned to look toward Mai, but she held out her hands to forestall him. “Heh, I’m at eight star chips already. I’ll settle my score with you later. In the semi-finals.”

  “I’ll hold you to that promise.” Yugi said in a deep, confident voice.

  But Phil was already looking away for more victims, even as Mai left without any more words to search for her final two chips. No one else was in the plains. Other than…

  “The stork?” Phil pointed toward the red-booted bird in the distance. The rest of the group looked in that direction, squinting their eyes to make out the stork’s shape. It was indeed Kounotori Tori, stalking in a menacing fashion toward the outskirts of the forest.

  “He’s heading toward the forest.” Jean said.

  That was enough to stifle Phil’s interest. “Nope. Not doing that again. Hey Yuges, where to next?”

  “Uh…” Yugi looked around. There were truly too many options!

  “Try closer to the castle.” Rex’s voice interrupted Yugi’s indecision. The group looked over to see Rex slouching out of the battle box. “Probably about half the duelists in the tournament are eliminated by now. The rest will naturally flock toward the castle to find more battles.”

  “Fair enough.” Phil said, stepping forward. His eyes met with Rex’s. For a moment neither spoke a word as they stared each other down. Tension filled the air. On the sidelines, Tea inched toward Joey. She could remember their last meeting on the boat, how they’d shouted at each other. She seemed determined to get Joey to break it up the second either one of them moved.

  And then Tea was left with an expression of pure bewilderment as Phil reached out to fist-bump Rex Raptor, a gesture which was reciprocated without a moment's hesitation.

  “Heard you beat four-eyes pretty badly.”

  “Weevil?” Phil laughed. “He got cocky.”

  Rex snorted derisively. “That’s what he does. Wish I’d been there to see him get taken down a peg or two. Perfect karma for the runt, I’d say.”

  Phil glanced up. The sun was high in the sky. Noontime, by his reckoning, and the castle was a good walk away. He turned toward the rest of the group. “Lunchtime?”

  “Lunchtime!” Joey and Tristan cheered. Together they ran around in a circle with their arms linked, chanting "Lunchtime! Lunchtime!" while Phil and Jean set out a few pieces of wood scavenged from the forest for a small cooking fire.

  "I have some of those easy pre-made hiking meal packs." Rex riffled around in his backpack to pull out several foil-lined packages. "Add them to the spread?"

  Phil took one of them and read off the title. “Taters and beans with cheese. Most excellent. Jean, how about you handle the bratwurst? I can do the hot dogs. Yugi my man, come ‘ere, come ‘ere. When I give you the word, I need you to take these hotdog buns, slap a little bit of grease from the dogs on them, and throw ‘em on the grill for a light toasting. Gotta have toasted buns. Gotta!”

  Yes indeed, toasted buns were a true necessity to any cookout. Hamburgers, hot dogs, it mattered little. The mere addition of some grease or even olive oil applied to the interior side of the buns, which were then toasted for a minute or two on the fire, would take any sandwich filled with hot meat to a whole ‘nother level. Naturally it was best not to think about what that also would do to one’s arteries.

  Then, while the rest of the boys were busy celebrating or prepping food, Phil snuck a battered metal kettle onto a metal hook over the fire and sent a stealthy wink Lumina’s way.

  Tea put a hand on her head in exasperation. Going from a screaming match on the boat to talking like old friends. Even worse, the other guys didn't look surprised at all. Even Joey, who'd just had an intense duel with him, hadn’t blinked an eye at it! For pity’s sake, Rex even began to wave his arms like a conductor to the tune of the ‘Lunchtime’ chant!

  Unbeknownst to her, Lumina was right by her side. “He does this all the time.” Lumina placed an intangible consoling hand on Tea's shoulder as she said words that went unheard to all but Phil. "Just wait, he'll find some idiotic excuse to party with Pegasus after the tournament is over."

  Lumina’s eyes never left the kettle, though. Not for a second. Her pupils were glued to that precious metal container. The most important job of all was hers – alerting Phil when the water inside had reached the perfect temperature so he could take some out, add the tea leaves she gave him, and then find the chance to sneak the delicious liquid back to her without anyone else noticing.

  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  “Krrrkk. Stupid, stupid!”

  Those words were uttered in a grating fashion by a lone stork picking its way through the thick forest. Each word was accentuated with a quick bobbing of his head. There was no path laid out beneath the stork’s red boots. Only the forest floor was there, terrain made rough by countless years of negligence by the island’s owner.

  The smell was getting thicker in the air. He was close. Soon his target came into view. The source of what he’d felt from as far as even the plains themselves. A battle box. It was impossible to see inside the battle box. Not for the presence of any curtains or other objects, but because the glass walls of the box were thoroughly coated in a dark red substance that positively reeked of the smell of warm iron.

  “Stupid. Stupid man-creature!”

  Kounotori Tori stalked around the battle box. On all four sides it was impossible to see the inside. His beak inched forward once he came close to the doors. With a practiced gesture, he nudged the door open. The stench of blood intensified.

  Inside the battle box was one single person. A teenage boy with his pale green hair trimmed into an obnoxious bowl cut. Around his shoulders was a long green coat, and a pair of wide yellow glasses was askew on his face. Kounotori looked the unmoving boy up and down.

  “Who?” The stork asked.

  Weevil Underwood did not respond. Kounotori moved around the table. More of Weevil’s body came into view.

  “Who was it?” The stork asked.

  Weevil Underwood did not respond. His eyes were lifeless. Soulless, even. His chest was torn asunder. Both of his hands, now cold and clammy, were still cradling his guts in their palms in a futile last-ditch attempt to stuff them back in his body.

  “Who was it who was it TELL ME!” The stork screamed, furiously beating at the air with his wings.

  But Weevil Underwood did not respond to the stork’s question. Kounotori tilted his head, his beak opening and closing several times without a word. Then his feathers stirred, as if a great amount of static electricity had begun to swim through the air. Wind rushed through the box, howling like a demon unleashed with all its fury. All of a sudden, the pool of blood on the ground at Weevil’s feet moved. At first, it swirled in place on the ground, causing several scattered insect cards within it to move as well, but soon it began to rise and form into the shape of a sphere. Behind the sphere, there was a faint, ethereal form of a four-winged bird. It appeared to almost clutch the sphere of blood within its talons.

  “Tell me, tell me, stupid, stupid man-creature!”

  Weevil Underwood did not respond, but the sphere of blood did. Not with words, but with a single grainy image that shot through the scarlet orb almost faster than the blink of an eye. It was an image of a clear blue sky on a peaceful spring day.

  “Blue Spring! WRONG ONE WRONG ONE KRKRKRK! STUPID, STUPID! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” The stork screamed each word with such hateful vigor that even the blood-covered glass walls of the battle box shuddered. Once, twice, thrice in succession, the powerful beak of Kounotori Tori slammed into the steel table until it was left as a dented, crumpled mess on the ground.

  “Stay with me!” A shout came from outside the box. Kounotori instantly fell silent. His head moved as if it were a machine on a swivel to focus on the sound, no longer paying attention to the cold, dead body of Weevil Underwood. He stalked out of the box, the only indication of his emotions being a murderous rage burning in his eyes. Each step he took left bloody boot prints on the ground. Outside of the box, halfway obscured by a tree, a man in a suit was kneeling. His hands were pressed on something which only fully revealed itself to Kounotori once the tree was sidestepped.

  "Come on! Stay awake!" The suited security guard pleaded with a woman lying in a bloody mess on the ground. One of her legs was gone from the knee down, but Kounotori could tell the true killing blow was a neat spike that had pierced a dime-sized hole through the woman's left eye. Like the living security guard, the woman on the ground was dressed in a black suit and had a 'security' badge clipped to her chest. The male security guard gave up his futile attempts at CPR and yanked his hand toward his walkie-talkie, but it was snatched away by a sword-like beak before the talk button could be pressed.

  “Shut up! Stupid, stupid human! Silent! Quiet!” Kounotori screeched. The guard fell on his backside from surprise, holding up his hands in front of his face in fear. They were covered in the woman’s blood.

  “Can’t be saved, can’t be saved, already dead! If it radios, it dies too. Can’t let this be ruined, no we can’t we can’t. Krkrk! Stupid! Stupid human! Silence, silence! Shut up!” Each word from the stork was delivered with a threatening clack of its sword-like beak. While the guard remained quiet, his eyes as wide as dinner plates and face as pale as a ghost, Kounotori crushed the walkie-talkie to bits between his beak and swallowed the remains like they were a fresh fish dinner. The guard scrabbled for his gun, but that too was snatched from his grip to disappear inside Kounotori’s maw.

  "If it wants to keep living it will be quiet, yes yes. This stork has many matters to discuss with the perpetrator which cannot be interrupted or forewarned or scried in advance, no no. Not one bit, not one bit. Shut up! Shut up! Stupid, stupid human! Many important matters, too important to ruin! Vengeance is mine! It is mine, this stork declares! An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, A LIFE FOR A LIFE!”

  The terrified security guard's mouth opened and closed with no sound, like a gasping fish out of water. The foul stench of urine filled the immediate surroundings. The stork’s throat began to convulse, and his next words were spoken in a strange sing-song voice, one that sounded far different than the stork’s normal harsh tones. “Matters, yes. Matters such as where~ in the world is my prey~.”

  The stork stalked ever closer to the security guard. He scrabbled backward through the vegetation until a tree hit his back.

  “You would know~. Yes yes, stupid brainless worthless human that you are. You would know, or perhaps rather help this stork instead narrow the search area. Where~ on this island could ninety-nine dead men, long dead souls sacrificed to a dark god, lie in wait for the perfect~ chance to kill a powerful mage?"

  Kounotori’s yellow eyes were mere centimeters from the security guard’s eyes. His voice softened to a barely audible whisper. “Where, pray tell? For I much desire to know.”

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