Who Let Him Play Yugioh? (Re-Upload)

”WRRRRRRRRRY!!!”

David roared in unwilling fury.

Powerless rage.

Why?

He could take pride even in the agony of Shadow Duels, he feared not even death—so why was he still feeling such fury, such despair, such helplessness?

This was also the first time in his life he realized—

—there exists a kind of duel in this world ten times darker than a Shadow Duel!

By comparison, all the pain he’d thought he’d inflicted on opponents in Shadow Duels—all the darkness he’d believed drove them to despair—suddenly felt childish.

All that real damage, all that physical torment… It felt dull all at once—simply the lowest tier of methods.

True, deep, terrifying darkness should be like this man’s. Stripping your opponent of their right to duel within a Shadow Duel, making them hold a full hand yet be unable to act, forced only to listen as the countdown to death closes in bit by bit, to watch themselves step by step fall into the abyss of ruin…

”This is what it means to be a King...”

David collapsed to his knees, and just before his gaze went unfocused, he spoke with difficulty.

At the very end of his life, he felt he’d grasped the true essence of darkness: a duel that torments both body and mind—a truly terrifying duel.

Unfortunately, his enlightenment came too late. He would have no chance to put it into practice.

Darkness erupted from within him. The twisted black miasma briefly took on something like facial features again, its eyes glaring at him, full of vexation.

”Again.”

It was Tragoedia’s voice.

”Why is it always you?”

”What on earth are you—no, what are you, exactly?”

”As you can see, merely an ordinary human,” Kira said. ”Just a passing duelist.”

Tragoedia: ”…”

Do you hear yourself?

Even we pure lords of darkness think you’re a little too dark, and you’ve still got the face to call yourself an ordinary human?

Who’d buy that?

”If you won’t say, fine. I wasn’t interested in your origins anyway,” Tragoedia hissed. ”But why do you obstruct me? Why do you oppose me?”

”Funny, that’s what I want to ask you. Why do you keep circling around me?”

Kira said.

”Me? Circling around you?”

Tragoedia nearly laughed from anger.

”You think I like you or something?”

”If not for those damned priests, their white-winged spirit, and Feather of Ma’at being here, why would I bother coming to this broken island?”

He cursed as he spoke, clearly frustrated.

Kira’s heart stirred.

The white-winged spirit. Feather of Ma’at…

He quickly made the connection. He seemed to understand.

”So that’s it. You came for those two spirits?” Kira smiled slightly. ”That’s unfortunate. Looks like you won’t be getting your hands on those two cards.”

Tragoedia: ”!”

The face formed from his black aura grew even more abstract, eyes boring into Kira as if to see through his soul.

This was Tragoedia’s greatest secret.

Back then he met his end in the Pharaoh’s temple and was sealed by priests wielding Millennium Items, all because he got too caught up in posing and lost his heart.

The priest-summoned white-winged spirit took his heart and placed it on one side of the Millennium Scales to judge his sins. On the other side lay the Feather of Truth, embodiment of truth, justice, and order.

Three thousand years later, those priests were gone, the Pharaoh’s dynasty toppled, and even the immortal Seven Millennium Items had been lost to the river of time.

But that accursed white-winged spirit—and Ma’at’s Feather—still remained in reality, holding the key to his complete resurrection.

That white-winged spirit is now called ”Winged Kuriboh.” Originally pure white, hence ”white-winged.” But after plucking out Tragoedia’s heart three thousand years ago, because the darkness within that heart was unimaginably vast, its white plumage was stained black.

As for the Feather of Truth, in the present day it has also become a monster card, known as ”Light and Darkness,” likewise existing in the form of a spirit.

After long investigation, Tragoedia finally managed to pinpoint the locations of both spirits.

The good news: the white-winged spirit and Ma’at’s Feather had ended up together, as if guided by fate, gathered in the same place. Saved him running all over the world—clear destination.

The bad news: they were both at Duel Academy.

Anywhere else in the world, with his abilities and methods, he’d have smashed his way in and pocketed both cards already. But at Duel Academy, there was one barrier he couldn’t get around.

The Duel King.

Tragoedia gritted his teeth.

If he were in peak condition, he’d not shy from fighting even the Pharaoh himself. But he still hadn’t found his heart, and he’d witnessed this Duel King’s power more than once. Honestly, he had no confidence facing him head-on right now.

”So that’s how it is. You’ve had it rough,” Kira chuckled. ”How’s your heart doing?”

Tragoedia: ”!”

His eyes opened wide, staring straight at Kira, almost thinking he’d misheard.

”How do you know that!?”

He screeched.

Impossible! Impossible!

The events of that night in the temple were known only to the priests present. It was the Pharaoh’s forbidden temple for sealing spirits and monsters—a royal taboo—no one else could have seen.

And when those priests realized Tragoedia was a monster born from the sole survivor of the village they’d massacred to forge the Millennium Items, they immediately swore on the spot that no one could ever reveal a word of it—under no circumstances could it reach the Pharaoh’s ears.

Because the Pharaoh knew nothing of the bloodshed behind the Millennium Items’ creation, of the village slaughter.

So that night was never recorded in history. The few who knew had been dead for three thousand years. The events had been buried by time—no one should know.

Yet this man before him—clearly someone from three millennia later—seemed to know even the detail that he’d lost his heart fooling around. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes that night, how could he know?

Tragoedia felt thunderstruck and racked his brain to recall that night.

In that forbidden temple, besides himself and the priests, who else was there?

”Who are you really?”

As his form neared dissolution, he couldn’t help but ask again.

There was fear in his voice now.

”I told you.”

Kira looked at the fading Tragoedia, whose remaining power in David’s body was exhausted and turning transparent, and simply smiled.

”Just an ordinary human duelist.”

Tragoedia: ”…”