The horizon wavered, a shimmering distortion of heat and distance. Ryuki’s tongue felt like sandpaper, glued to the roof of his mouth. Each step churned the fine, red dust, coating his makeshift cloak, his tattered boots, every exposed inch of skin. His lungs burned with the effort of breathing the hot, dry air. How long had he walked? Days bled into an indistinguishable blur of sunrise and scorching noon. His stomach cramped, a dull, persistent ache that had become a familiar companion. He squinted. Far in the distance, a faint, metallic sheen caught the brutal sunlight. Neo Domino City. It was still a distant promise, a mirage he chased, but it was there. The sheer scale of it, even from this distance, was intimidating. A monolith of chrome and glass, reaching for the sky, pristine and untouchable. A world away from the cracked earth beneath his feet. His right forearm throbbed. The crimson mark, usually dormant, pulsed with a low, insistent warmth. It wasn't pain, exactly, more a deep resonance, like a tuning fork struck far away. He clenched his fist, trying to ignore it. The desert had warped his senses, made him susceptible to every phantom ache and whisper. He was just tired, dehydrated. His mind was playing tricks. He forced himself to take another step, then another. The cloak chafed his neck, heavy with collected dust, but he kept it drawn around him. His face, his mark – they were public knowledge now. A fugitive. The thought fueled a bitter surge of defiance. Let them hunt. Let them try. He wasn't some animal to be penned. His gaze remained fixed on the city. It grew, slowly, imperceptibly. He started to make out individual structures, towering skyscrapers that dwarfed anything he had ever seen in his old life. Yet, something else emerged from the blur, something that didn't quite fit the sleek, futuristic panorama. A colossal shadow, broken and jagged, stood distinct from the rest. It was closer than the main city, situated more on the outer edge, a sentinel of ruin. He narrowed his eyes, struggling to bring it into focus. It was a building, undeniably, but one ravaged by some ancient, catastrophic force. Gaping holes pockmarked its facade, steel girders twisted skyward like skeletal fingers, and entire sections seemed to have simply vanished. It looked like a titan had taken a bite out of it and spat out the remnants. As he drew nearer, a name clawed its way through his exhaustion-muddled brain. The old man in the market, back in Satellite, had spoken of it. KaibaCorp. He’d mentioned a 'Zero Reverse' event, how the company's assets were moved, its buildings abandoned or repurposed. This must be one of them. A relic, standing guard over the entrance to the shining city. His mark flared again, a stronger, sharper heat. It felt like a magnet, tugging him towards that derelict structure. A strange sense of familiarity, an echo from a life he barely remembered, stirred within him. He shook his head. No. This was not his world. This was not Kaiba's world. This was some twisted, mystical imitation, and he wasn't going to fall for its pre-written script. He pushed the feeling down, forcing his gaze away from the ruined tower, back towards the glittering promise of Neo Domino City itself. His Blue-Eyes were there, somewhere. He could feel it. Not the mark, not this world's mumbo jumbo, but the primal connection to his true power, waiting to be reclaimed. He would find them. He would rebuild his deck, shatter their Synchro dominance, and prove that his way was the only way. But the ruined building kept drawing his eye, a dark, jagged tooth in the otherwise perfect smile of the city. He couldn't ignore it. It was too massive, too prominent. A strange pull, like an invisible string, seemed to emanate from its broken windows and crumbling walls. His steps faltered, unconsciously veering from his straight path, guiding him towards the skeletal remains of KaibaCorp. His head swam. The relentless sun beat down, baking the sand, cooking his brain. He needed water. He needed to rest. Every muscle screamed in protest. He lifted a hand, shielding his eyes, trying to clear the fuzzy edges of his vision. That's when he saw them. Shimmering in the heat haze, translucent and ethereal, they hovered around the ruined tower. Three magnificent, spectral dragons. Blue-Eyes White Dragons. Their forms were unmistakable, the piercing azure eyes, the powerful, scaled bodies. They were exactly as he remembered them, pristine and proud, despite their ghostly appearance. A gasp caught in his throat, raw and dry. Then, more appeared. One with white and chrome armor, its wings spread wide – Blue-Eyes Alternative White Dragon. Another, larger, with three heads, radiating an immense, silent power – Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon. And then another, its form more abstract, almost like pure energy, with a single massive horn – Blue-Eyes Twin Burst Dragon. He knew these. He knew them all. They were real. They were here. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum against the backdrop of his exhaustion. He blinked, hard. They didn't vanish. They flickered, like static on an old screen, but remained. He stumbled forward, driven by a desperate, hopeful confusion. His Blue-Eyes! They were calling to him. A tear, hot and stinging, traced a path down his dust-caked cheek. He thought he was alone in this world, that he had lost everything that truly mattered. But they were here. Then his mind supplied another, more logical explanation. The desert. The thirst. The hunger. The relentless sun. His body was failing. He was hallucinating. This was a cruel trick of his own mind, a mirage born of desperation. He clenched his jaw, the raw emotion twisting into a snarl of self-loathing. He wouldn't break. He wouldn't fall for it. He rubbed his eyes roughly with the back of his hand, digging his knuckles into his eyelids until spots danced in his vision. When he opened them again, the spectral dragons were gone. Vanished. Just the jagged silhouette of the ruined KaibaCorp building remained, silent and oppressive under the midday sun. His breath hitched, a dry, ragged sound. “Damn it,” he rasped, his voice cracked and weak. “Damn this desert. Damn this heat. Hallucinations.” He ground his teeth, the taste of dust and bitterness filling his mouth. This was what exhaustion did. It preyed on your deepest desires, showed you what you wanted to see, then ripped it away. He hated it. He hated being weak. He hated being vulnerable. He glared at the ruined building, as if it were personally responsible for his torment. It stood there, a broken monument, beckoning him. He wouldn't be swayed by phantom dragons or mystical marks. He was Ryuki Sato. He made his own path. He would find his true Blue-Eyes, the physical cards, not these pathetic, fleeting illusions. He forced himself to walk again, his pace slow and deliberate, each step an act of sheer will. The ruined KaibaCorp tower was his immediate destination now, a landmark, a temporary shelter from the relentless sun. He would rest there, recover, then find a way into Neo Domino City. He would find his way back to power. He would not be broken by this world, by its heat, by its illusions, by its ridiculous 'Signer' prophecies. He pushed through the final meters of desert, the sand giving way to cracked asphalt, littered with debris. The sheer scale of the building overwhelmed him as he stood at its base, staring up at the shattered remnants of what was once a monument to ambition. The wind whistled through broken windows, an eerie lament. He felt no comfort, only a profound weariness, and a burning resolve to defy everything this new reality threw at him. Unknown to Ryuki, high atop the ruined KaibaCorp building, a distinct silhouette stood etched against the blazing sky. It resembled a man, tall and imperious, and beside him, three magnificent Blue-Eyes White Dragons stared down, their spectral eyes fixed on the lone figure below.

Chapter 12: Echoes of the Founder