Nkosi is the current user of the Millennium Shackle. While going through his grandparents belongings in the attic during a house move, he came across a heavy gleaming brace of pure gold. Not simply a reflection of the faint light coming through the vents, but a light of its own, and a soundless voice coming from within. It called to him like an old friend asking a question. Like an ally offering aid. And before he had even realized it, he found it clamped down onto its arm. An arcane knowledge flooded through his mind. Understood like a text book studied before a test, but distant still like a rarely practiced second language. He understood this shackle, despite not knowing anything about it. New, yet familiar. And the eye was familiar as well, but not in the same way. But rather he'd seen the eye on the pendant that the king of games wore, whom he'd seen on TV. Same eye, same gleam, and now with the shackle on his wrist, all the more familiar amidst the shade of all that he didn't know. And all it would take to fully understand... Was a duel. He packed up his cards and braved the world that he knew he wasn't welcome in. There was fun to be had, and a newfound hunger within to satiate.




And so here's Nkosi, the feller to drive this month's mini-narrative, at least the human side of things. And his first victim shall follow soon.
A little more about him? Well, he's an awkward shut-in who prefers to stay home and play virtual card games over the real one, in spite of having a fairly formidable deck that he based off his in-game one. People just make him uncomfortable. Always preferred the company of computers to people anyway. Staying up late, barely tapping into his potential in school, and otherwise ignoring the world, he juggles a combination of desire and anger. Desire to have a place in the world, but a long festered bitterness toward the world that always hated him. Or so he thought. In reality, kids just suck. But this, over the years, ballooned up in him a lonely bitterness. Only in fantasy could he find revenge. And only in his virtual life could he find a sense of companionship. But once the lights went off, it was just him and his thoughts. Too much frustration to be at peace, but too much fear to seek it. But now, now he has a new friend. The spirit of the shackle has inspired some motivation in him. Now it was time to play for real.

And after his first duel with another person in years, he finally understood what the shackle was. It wasn't a mere prop or hand-me-down bauble. It was the real deal, just like the pendant worn by Yugi in the duels he'd seen on TV. His duel was short, but enlightening. A quick one in an alleyway where the Battle City tournament was held not long ago, with someone who'd wronged him in the past. A nameless punk who'd made him feel less of himself than he already did. Even in the duel he taunted Nkosi, waning his newfound confidence rapidly, resulting in a few poor choices that nearly cost him the duel. But it would turn out that his bully's dueling skills didn't match his trash talk. A mage power on a piercing monster, and a trap jammer to ensure the final blow, with 1500 life points to spare Nkosi had won his first ever duel with a Duel Disk he'd bought with the last of his birthday money. But it didn't end there, the glowing brace on his arm intensified, and as quickly as it had shone like the sun, so did the alley around him blacken with writhing shadow, and saw his oppressor now his victim, ensnared by black chains to a totem baring his likeness. An anger welled up in Nkosi, and he wished to see him suffer for what he had done. And tendrils climbed up from the murk at his feet, and up into the shrieking bully's clothes. And then, laughter. Screaming laughter. Nkosi's anger and deep-set fetish for tickle torture had become manifest. And as the purplish bags under his eyes turned pink at the sight, more than just his confidence grew that day. The tendrils slithered and stroked, making the bully wail in ticklish tortured laughter. Nkosi quickly got into this, going over to him to get at him some personally. He didn't have the heart to punch him, even though deep down he wanted to, even though he was so embittered by this point, but he had enough in him to bring his bully to tears with peals of tickled laughter. The tendrils melted through his shoes and tormented his feet while Nkosi stood back and watched, realizing his control over the world around him. Was this the shadow realm he'd read about in his grandma's Egyptian mythology books? It sure seemed like it. But how long would he be there? How long could he gleefully torture his victim? How far would this go on? He would find his answer soon. Soon for him, at least. That was the longest nearly three hours of the bully's life though. But those 150 minutes passed quickly for Nkosi, and the shadows faded and the exhausted duelist slumped to the ground, back with shredded clothing intact and glistening sweat and tears gone. According to the clocks in town, no time had passed at all since the duel had ended. And yet, the loser had flopped down unconscious. Even Nkosi's pocket watch had reverted back to the original time within his pants. But every memory was fresh in his mind still, this as very real, and was easily the finest moment of his life so far. He grinned, and walked off from the alleyway to go get lunch. Not just food for the body, but for his very soul as well. His first victory had passed, and he was eager for another. Contemplating the nature of his new toy over a banh mi sandwich from a food truck, he planned out his next victim. Who else had wronged him? Who else was on his chopping block? Did it even matter? Anyone would do really. Cuz in Nkosi's mind, everyone deserved to suffer for his own self-loathing. It really just came down to whom he thought looked like fun. And glancing over at the TV, he'd seen a former celebrity flash by in a brief clip, one who had gotten his keister readily handed to him in Battle City. One scheduled to duel at a nearby arena in the next few hours. What luck, he'd already decided on dessert before finishing his sandwhich~