Actually, a few days ago—back when Ryo's situation had somehow managed to get even worse—someone from the Underground Duel Arena had approached him.
It happened in a dark alley not far from here. The guy had sidled up to Ryo with that particular kind of sleazy confidence that came from knowing someone was desperate, and made his pitch: "The righteous path isn't working out anymore, is it? Why not try Underground Duels instead?"
Thinking about it now made Ryo's lip curl in disgust. He let out a cold snort.
Underground Duels. What a nice, sanitized name for something so fundamentally filthy.
In a world where dueling reigned supreme—where the act of facing an opponent with cards in hand was supposed to be sacred, honorable, a test of skill and spirit—these Underground Duels spat on everything that made the profession meaningful.
They took the holy art of dueling and dragged it through blood, violence, and perverse desire. They connected something pure with the worst impulses of humanity, defiling the sacred title of "Duelist" until it meant nothing.
These so-called "Underground Duels" were no different from prostitution in the eyes of ordinary people. Hell, in Ryo's eyes too, if he was being honest with himself.
And for a former professional Duelist to participate in that world? The irony was almost funny in a sick way. It was like seeing a headline that read: "Studied Dueling to Become a Master Player → I've Entered the Adult Industry, Please Come Support Me!"
The perverts who frequented the underground dueling circuit probably got a kick out of that exact scenario. Former pros brought low, desperate enough to perform for them. It was entertainment born from schadenfreude and twisted desires.
Ryo knew—knew with absolute certainty—that those weren't real Duels. They were performances. Prostitution with duel disks instead of beds. Duelists reduced to nothing more than performers, putting on shows for bosses with peculiar tastes and deep pockets.
If he went there, the best possible outcome would probably involve getting picked by some wealthy old woman wearing a dark mask in the audience. She'd pay a high price to buy him, take him home, make him her personal star slave—a trophy to show off to her equally depraved friends.
Beyond that? There was no other ending. No redemption arc. No climbing back to respectability.
Those who stepped into the Underground Duel world and managed to return to shore unscathed were probably one in ten thousand. Maybe fewer.
Most just... disappeared. Got swallowed up by that darkness and never came back.
Ryo finally reached the entrance to his apartment building. He stopped, staring up at the structure that had once represented his success.
He'd rented this place when his income was still substantial, back when winning streak money was rolling in and the future looked bright. The rent was steep—appropriate for a rising star—but he'd been able to afford it easily.
Now? He'd probably be unable to renew the lease next month.
A self-mocking laugh escaped his throat, bitter and hollow.
So this is where I've ended up.
If he continued losing like this, if he got kicked out of the professional circuit entirely... knowing his own character, his own desperate need to keep dueling no matter what...
Heading toward Underground Duels was only a matter of time.
Everyone knew you shouldn't walk toward the darkness. Everyone understood that staying on the shore, staying safe, was the smart choice. The right choice.
But what could a person actually do at the moment they had to dive in? When there were no other options left, when the darkness was the only path forward?
Ryo took out his key with shaking hands, feeling dizzy and disoriented. He fumbled with the lock, his coordination shot to hell from exhaustion and despair.
As the key finally slid home and turned, a wave of utter hopelessness crashed over him.
At this lowest point of his life—at rock bottom with the ground still somehow crumbling beneath his feet—Marufuji Ryo desperately hoped that someone or something could come and save him.
A miracle. A sign. Anything.
Otherwise, if this continued, he feared that one day he would discard everything he believed in. His respect for dueling. His respect for his opponents. His entire dueling philosophy. He'd abandon it all and live only for victory, becoming the kind of duelist he'd always despised, and then—
"Hmm... a top graduate of Duel Academy. The leading Cyber Style Duelist of the younger generation. Fresh onto the professional stage, riding high on a few initial victories, and then..." The voice came from somewhere to his right, conversational and oddly familiar. "Met with an endless losing streak. A bankrupt Duelist."
A pause, then: "Marufuji Ryo."
Ryo's head snapped toward the source of the voice, every muscle in his body going tense.
In the darkness beside his front door, a man wearing a hooded raincoat sat perched on the railing like some kind of bizarre bird. He looked like he'd been waiting there for hours—patient, relaxed, completely at ease in Ryo's private space.
"...Who the hell are you?" Ryo's voice came out sharper than intended, edged with suspicion and fear.
The mysterious way this guy was acting, the fact that he knew so much about Ryo's situation... immediately, Ryo thought of a certain possibility. His voice turned fierce, almost aggressive. "Are you from the underground dueling world? Because I already refused once, and you people need to—"
"The underground dueling world?" The hooded man waved his hand dismissively, cutting Ryo off mid-sentence. "Not quite. Though judging from what you just said... someone from that scene already contacted you, huh?"
The man tilted his head, and even though Ryo couldn't see his face clearly under the hood, he could somehow feel the analytical gaze studying him.
"Let me guess the trajectory here," the stranger continued, his tone taking on an almost theatrical quality. "Following the typical development of this kind of plot... if you keep losing, if you reach the point where you're demoted and lose your professional dueling qualifications entirely... given your character, given your desperate need to keep dueling..."
He paused for effect.
"You probably wouldn't mind continuing in a place like Underground Duels, would you? You'd tell yourself it was temporary, that you were just doing what you had to do to stay in the game. But we both know how that story ends."
"Who—who the hell are you!?"
Having his greatest inner secret—the shameful thought he'd barely admitted to himself—laid bare by a complete stranger made Ryo's blood run cold. He felt like a cat with its fur standing on end, every instinct screaming danger even as something else whispered that this person wasn't a threat.
"Me?" The hooded man suddenly jumped down from the railing with fluid grace, landing without a sound. He started approaching Ryo with slow, measured steps. "Just a passing Great God of the Card Realm, you could say."
His voice carried an amused lilt, like he was enjoying some private joke.
"You can also call me the 'Savior of Lost Youths,'" he continued, still closing the distance between them. "Or the 'Ultra-Ultimate Life Mentor.' Or, if you prefer something more direct... the savior who can lead you out of hell and end your struggle once and for all."
The guy kept talking as he drew closer, seemingly unconcerned with Ryo's defensive posture. But here was the strange thing—the thing that kept Ryo from bolting or throwing a punch:
Although Ryo was on high alert, although every rational part of his brain was screaming at him to be careful... he didn't sense any of that damp, foul stench that clung to anything connected with Underground Duels. That particular corruption that marked people who'd spent time in that world.
Instead, he felt something else entirely. A strange sense of familiarity. Almost... warmth?
As a Duelist who'd trained himself to the point of developing semi-supernatural techniques—who could pull off a Destiny Draw when his back was against the wall, who'd reached the point where he was somewhat in sync with card spirits—Ryo's intuition had always been sharp. His spiritual sense was highly developed, even if he didn't fully understand it himself.
And right now, that intuition was telling him something bizarre.
From this mysterious stranger, he only felt an inexplicable sense of closeness. A feeling as if this person were... a second parent? An older sibling? Someone who genuinely wanted to help him, with no ulterior motives or hidden agenda.
It was an intuitive certainty that this person would—could—save him.
The hooded man continued his approach until he stood directly in front of Ryo. Then, slowly and deliberately, he raised his right hand and reached out toward him.
Ryo didn't flinch. Didn't step back. Something kept him rooted in place.
"Don't be afraid, Ryozi," the stranger said, his voice surprisingly gentle. The nickname—a casual, affectionate version of his name—should have felt presumptuous from a stranger, but somehow it didn't.
"That shattered Duelist heart of yours..."
The hand came to rest on Ryo's shoulder, warm and solid and real.
"Let your uncle restore it for you with cellular reconstruction."
[Welcome to the world of Yu-Gi-Oh!, where card games are supreme!]
[Congratulations! You have successfully activated the 'Rebirth of the Duel King Recognizing Me as Father · Strong, Invincible, Strongest Magnetic Field Godfather System'!]
[This system exists to transform you into the ultimate Dueling mentor—the world's most dominant Magnetic Field Dueling Godfather. Choose from various questlines such as 'Higehiro, and Then Picking Up the Cyber Style Struggling Man,' 'Blue Angel's Ultimate Insult,' or 'The Duelist's Funeral' to train promising Duelists and guide them to the pinnacle of competitive play.]
[With this system's assistance, you'll complete teaching missions, earn rewards throughout the mentorship process, and establish yourself as an imposing godfather figure in the hearts of your beloved disciples—ultimately becoming the power behind the throne in the Dueling world, the Dark Emperor lurking in card game circles, the man behind every Duel King.]
[Warning: During the mentorship process, please handle emotional entanglements with godchildren, daughters, and beloved disciples appropriately. Avoid extreme situations such as 'Godfather, don't turn around—I'm here to slay you!' or 'Mounting the Teacher and Despising the Ancestors: Sensei, Sensei, you smell so good~' which could endanger your personal safety.]
[If you encounter any issues, please visit FXXK.KONAMI.COM for consultation.]
That had been the system message that greeted Yūrei when he first activated it after transmigrating.
But before all of that, there'd been one last memory from his previous life—a short internet meme related to Yu-Gi-Oh! that had been making the rounds on card game forums:
[My name is Yūrei. I have been reborn and am currently selling off all my family assets to top up everything into the Yu-Gi-Oh! mobile game.]
[Everyone thinks I'm a fool, but only I know that in three months, global anomalies will descend, Yu-Gi-Oh! will merge with reality, and ordinary people will inherit all the cards they own to complete their transformation!]
[In my previous life, I didn't choose to buy cards, and subsequently, on the tenth day of survival, I was killed in a sneak attack by a despicable Runick player.]
[I thought my life would end there, but unexpectedly, I was reborn back to the day POTE was released. It seems that in this life, I am destined to reach the peak!]
[Oh crap, brothers, I topped up the wrong game. I put it all into Genshin Impact instead!]
The kind of joke that Card Game Enthusiasts shared with each other, poking fun at the gacha game addiction that plagued their community.
Then, in a daze, when he'd opened his eyes again...
Everything had changed.
He'd found himself surrounded by men and women sporting hairstyles and hair colors that defied both physics and good taste. They wore blade-shaped devices strapped to their arms—duel disks, his brain had helpfully supplied—and walked around like this was completely normal.
Relying on his years of experience as a hardcore Card Game Enthusiast, Yūrei had been able to conclude almost immediately what had happened.
These flamboyant people walking back and forth on the street, who seemed to possess some kind of magnetic field-like power radiating from their very beings, were creatures known as "Duelists." The kind usually found in Yu-Gi-Oh! and its related media properties.
The realization had hit him like a truck. Or rather, given his situation, unlike a truck.
He hadn't topped up the wrong game. He hadn't been reborn into his own world with future knowledge.
The truth was exactly the opposite: Yu-Gi-Oh! hadn't descended into reality. Instead, he had crossed over into the Yu-Gi-Oh! world itself.
Yūrei had arrived in this world a few days ago. He vaguely remembered that before the crossing, he'd just returned home from work—exhausted, stressed, looking forward to decompressing—and as usual, he'd turned on his computer, preparing for a tense and exciting session of what the community called "card god."
The full official name of the game was absurdly long: "Reborn: Longing to Become the God of Card Games in Another World: World Legacy - Mekk-Knight Crusadia Avramax Tri-Brigade."
Given that mouthful, everyone just called it "card god" for short.
It was a brand new open-world 3D Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel gacha game that had exploded in popularity over recent years. Card Game Enthusiasts had fallen in love with it almost instantly, despite their initial skepticism.
See, one day in Yūrei's world, the publisher of the Yu-Gi-Oh! card game—the infamous Konami—had apparently decided to turn over a new leaf. Maybe they'd been guided by some expert consultant. Maybe someone in upper management had experienced a genuine moment of clarity. Or maybe they'd just collectively lost their minds in the best possible way.
Whatever the reason, Konami had suddenly decided to change their historically lazy and money-grubbing management methods. They'd committed to taking their old, beloved IP seriously for once in their corporate lives.
In the years that followed, Konami had actually put in the work. They'd partnered with several top-tier game companies from around the world, then spent ungodly amounts of money and countless development hours to create this brand new open-world 3D Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel gacha game.
When the news first broke, of course, nobody had believed it. Given Konami's past behavior—their long history of squandering beloved franchises and nickel-and-diming their fanbase—players and Card Game Enthusiasts weren't just skeptical. They were actively hostile to the idea.
Before the game even released, it had been labeled with harsh tags: "pure vaporware to scam money," "don't believe the hype," "little card players have quite the imagination thinking this'll be good."
The cynicism had been thick enough to cut with a knife.
But then the game actually launched.
And holy shit, it had slapped everyone in the face with how genuinely good it was.
The final product featured exquisite graphics that pushed the boundaries of what mobile and PC games could achieve. The gameplay was phenomenal—smooth, engaging, addictive in the best way. The quality was top-tier across every metric.
Card god not only perfectly preserved the core gameplay mechanics of Yu-Gi-Oh!—the complex interactions, the strategic depth, the ridiculous combos—but it also promoted the game using popular card lore stories and beloved anime character plots from across the entire Yu-Gi-Oh! franchise.
They'd appropriately lowered the entry barrier too, making it accessible to newcomers without dumbing it down for veterans. The developers had somehow threaded that impossible needle, successfully expanding the game's reach beyond the hardcore card game community.
The final product not only attracted players who'd never touched a Yu-Gi-Oh! card in their lives, but every single Card Game Enthusiast who played it had been moved to tears.
The community had collectively joked about using Monster Reborn on Konami's corporate leadership to bring back whoever had approved this miracle. People genuinely doubted whether they were living in some kind of sci-fi alternate timeline where Konami gave a damn about quality.
Based on everything he'd seen so far, Yūrei was pretty confident he'd crossed over into the world of this card god game.
The evidence was pretty damn conclusive.
For example, when he'd first arrived in this world, the very first piece of key information he'd encountered had been a news broadcast on what looked like a futuristic TV.
[Professional Duelist rising star and Cyber Style successor Marufuji Ryo has been in a slump after losing to the famous professional Duelist Edo Phoenix. He's now suffering an eight-game losing streak and facing demotion.]
Accompanying the news anchor's voice, a famous scene had played on the screen—the popular character Marufuji Ryo from the Yu-Gi-Oh! GX anime looking on with utter devastation as his ace monster, Cyber End Dragon, was destroyed by his opponent's 4,900 ATK The Phantom Knights of Rusty Bardiche. His life points had dropped to zero in spectacular fashion.
Yūrei had recognized that moment immediately. Any GX fan would.
It was the famous scene from the second Yu-Gi-Oh! anime series where the well-known Cyber Style struggling man, Marufuji Ryo, got absolutely crushed on the professional stage. The moment where his career hit rock bottom and everything started spiraling into darkness.
According to the original anime's plot progression, this was the turning point. After this defeat, Mr. Marufuji Ryo would walk a very different path—a path of struggle and transformation that would change him from a bright, cheerful, idealistic young duelist into something else entirely.
He'd become the Hell Kaiser. The guy who wore tight leather, grinned like a maniac during duels, and shouted chuunibyou lines about darkness and power while his friends watched in horror.
It was... well, it was a whole thing. One of the more infamous character arcs in the franchise.
And in the card god game, because Marufuji Ryo was such a popular anime character—beloved despite (or perhaps because of) his dramatic downfall—the developers had preserved this entire storyline.
They'd integrated Marufuji Ryo's complete tragic experience into the game world as an elaborate side quest chain. Card Game Enthusiasts who loved this character could personally witness his descent. They could interact with him at various points in his journey, maybe even try to change his fate.
Experience the struggle face-to-face, as it were.
Which meant Yūrei knew exactly what kind of situation he'd stumbled into.
And looking at the broken young man standing in front of him right now—Marufuji Ryo himself, at his absolute lowest point, teetering on the edge of making choices that would destroy everything he believed in—Yūrei felt something shift in his chest.
He'd played this questline before, back in his old world. Watched Ryo spiral into darkness through a screen, helpless to change the predetermined narrative.
But now?
Now he was actually here. Standing in front of the real Marufuji Ryo at the exact moment when intervention could matter most.
The system in his head—that ridiculous "Rebirth of the Duel King Recognizing Me as Father" system—had already started pinging him with quest notifications the moment he'd found Ryo.
[New Quest Available: Teaching the Struggling Cyber Style Master]
[Objective: Guide Marufuji Ryo away from his path of self-destruction. Help him rediscover his love of dueling. Restore his shattered confidence and prevent his descent into becoming the Hell Kaiser.]
[Rewards: ??? (Based on completion quality and relationship development)]
[Warning: This is a multi-stage questline. Your choices will matter. Please handle emotional entanglements with your disciple appropriately—while building bonds is necessary for quest completion, avoid situations that could lead to complications such as the disciple developing inappropriate attachments or romantic feelings toward their mentor. The system is not responsible for any awkward relationship dynamics that may develop. Remember: you're here to be a godfather figure, not to start a harem. Though if it happens naturally, well... the system won't judge. Much.]
Yūrei had stared at that notification for a long moment, then let out a slow breath.
Alright then, he'd thought. Let's save this poor bastard from his timeline.
And so here he was, playing the mysterious mentor who'd appeared at exactly the right moment, with his hand on Ryo's shoulder and the weight of knowledge about what came next sitting heavy in his mind.
"Don't be afraid, Ryozi," he said again, letting genuine warmth creep into his voice. "Your uncle's going to fix everything."
In the darkness of the alley, standing in front of a broken young duelist who desperately needed someone to believe in him, Yūrei committed himself fully to this absurd, wonderful, terrifying new role.
Time to be the mentor he'd always wished existed in the original story.
Time to see if he could actually change fate.
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