[The mist rises slowly. The creature's hand slams into the ground, using it to get enough force to pull itself out. Under the mist, it's nothing more than a misshapen hulk of blackness. That scraping noise comes closer, echoing now, so it's hard to tell which way it's coming from.
And as the thief king moves away, a voice echoes in the maze.]
What's wrong, Bakura?
[The words come from up above, where the illusion of Bakura is sitting atop one of the monoliths. Arms folded over his chest, he rests one leg on top of the other, looking down at him. Despite the distance, the words are easily audible. There's an odd sort of echo to them, however. A distortion that leaves the voice difficult to recognize, sounding more unnatural.]
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And as the thief king moves away, a voice echoes in the maze.]
What's wrong, Bakura?
[The words come from up above, where the illusion of Bakura is sitting atop one of the monoliths. Arms folded over his chest, he rests one leg on top of the other, looking down at him. Despite the distance, the words are easily audible. There's an odd sort of echo to them, however. A distortion that leaves the voice difficult to recognize, sounding more unnatural.]
Realizing your folly?