Chess: a zero-sum game of limited possibilities with a set of unbending rules that dictates how each piece moves, a game in which your gains equally result in your opponent's losses and vice versa.

Truth be told, I’ve always found the term [limited] used in that description to be out of place. Because after combining all the available moves of the 16 pieces of the 2 sides on the 8x8 board, there are 10^120 roughly estimated total numbers of possible game variations. 

And while, in theory, a guaranteed path to victory does exist. But in order to find it, you have to keep track of and scrutinize every possible move among the complex trees of probabilities that generate and multiply with each decision made from both sides.

The reason why not even high-level GMs can consistently defeat advanced chess engines is that computers have such a huge advantage when it comes to brute force calculations. Playing a game of chess with that level of theoretical precision simply isn’t something that can be done by humans.

Chess was one of my hobbies when I was in high school. One of, as in back then I would throw myself willy-nilly at every type of activity just to see what I would prefer—and was, as in I quit. 

I was never really good at it. I never have any reason to be good at it. So instead of putting in the time to learn and get better, I just moved on to other things. 

In retrospect, I don’t think my life would have turned out much different if I hadn’t done that, because even if I had—there would still be absolutely no chance of winning against him, would there?

“Don’t you think this is a little ridiculous?!” 

I shout at Master, not daring to take a step forward and sit on the chair that has been prepared for me. Who would? It’s no different than inserting your head into a guillotine.

“I don’t even have any chance, do I? This is impossible!”

“Impossible?”

On the side of the table, Master rests his chin on his hand, still sounding as annoyingly theatrical as ever as he speaks.

“Isn’t the essence of humanity the ability to face despair and somehow still hope? To fight against all odds and emerge scarred, but ultimately victorious? If I can do it, then surely somewhere inside you there’s the same tenacity.”

“Very inspiring, Master, but unfortunately, not all of us owe an archive that contains all knowledge in existence.”

I force myself to put up a smile while telling him in an amiable tone—and I hope that comes off as sarcastic as I meant it to be.

“Fair enough. What do you suggest then?”

I look at Master, and he cocks his head at me a little. I can’t help but question his motive—what could he possibly get from all of this? If anything at all? And if there’s nothing he can gain...

“Do we really have to do this?”

“This time, I’m not giving you a choice.”

I helplessly look up to the sky, letting my eyes absentmindedly wander among the colorful nebulas. I should at least try to—no, I have to try to negotiate with him however I can.

“How about you start by making it so that I have a chance to win? Like more than 0.0001% chance?”

“Actually, I’d say it’s 0.00000000—” 

“Ah, shut up. I get it.”

Master continues to smile mysteriously as I grow increasingly frustrated. But either way, I’m not playing chess against a man who has consistently gone on record saying, I know [everything], like it’s part of his job’s description.

“Maybe we could play a different game? Something more random like, a coin flip?”

“A bit of a problematic choice, don’t you think? Not only that there’s no coin around here.”

Master twirls his finger and warns me, condescendingly.

“Are you really sure about betting your existence and the lives of two billion people on a coin flip?”

"..."

He's right...

Beside, no matter what I do or say, Master is Master. So clearly whether it’s Chess or Go or anything else, he’d still have an incomprehensible level of advantage over me. 

A game that relies solely on chance would surely bridge that gap, at least slightly. But the act of betting the lives and deaths of two billion people on something like a coin flip isn’t something I’m comfortable with, even as a last resort. Not to mention that this is after I assume that Master wouldn’t be able to somehow predict that outcome anyway. 

So the choice is between trying to bargain for some other means that have varying nonexistent chances of success—or...

“You could play the same game you have played before, with the rules you understand.”

...Chess, a game in which there is zero luck involved, one where every move and strategy can be foreseen and countered. 

“But then can’t you just read my mind?”

“I haven’t been doing that before, why would I start now?”

“Huh?”

—But then how does he always respond to my thoughts?

“Well, that’s just because your [thoughts] are so easily predictable. Do you seriously think I’d have to resort to mind-reading to guess what you’re thinking?” 

I grumble irritably. How else do you expect me to respond? It’s one thing to discourage a person, another to completely crush their will to live and make it remarkably clear to them that whatever they do, only failure awaits.

“Also, I can actually do it, you know?”

As if not satisfied with the current level of pressure he’s already putting on me. Master continues to say calmly.

“Do, what?”

“Erasing you from existence.”

“...”

At that instant.

I am rendered utterly speechless.

“While the method is somewhat complicated, the logic behind it is rather simple. Let’s suppose that there's a way to measure the mathematical worth of every single action you have taken from your birth to your death and sum it all up to a single string of numbers. In theory, this string of numbers would perfectly describe and encapsulate your entire being, correct? So if someone with the capability were to, say, retrace its chronological sequence to its point of origin and change that point of origin from 1 to 0…”

—Hey, hey, hey… isn’t this getting a little too much? Can someone please tell him that he’s insane if he expects me to somehow play?

“It’s about time you recognize it, Steve. I’m the [opponent] you have to defeat, not convince to back down.”

Master gestures toward the chair in front of me with his hand.

“And the only way to do that is for us to play by my rules.”

“And your rules are basically to decide the fate of an entire world by the result of a simple game?”

“Uh-huh.”

“...I don’t have any choice but to play along, do I?”

“Nope.”

Master merely shakes his head and says nothing else, officially ending the conversation and making it clear that I no longer have any chance to back out.

“Huaaa~”

Begrudgingly, and cautiously, I step forward to take a seat opposite of Master, all the while wondering how in the world has my life gotten to this point. 

I observe the ordinary-looking board for a considerable while, before picking up a white pawn and holding it in my hand as a sense of fear washes over me.

“It’s your turn, Steve.”

—Ah, whatever happens happens, I don’t care anymore.

So, without much confidence, and with a whole lot of blind faith, I make my first move.

—————……….

Pawn to e4, Pawn to c5… Knight to f3, Pawn to d6… Pawn d4, Knight to f6…

The early game develops steadily, almost like a friendly match being played in a mundane afternoon and not at all the high-stakes battle that would shift the course of a world’s history as he suggested. But even then I still can’t feel completely comfortable. Perhaps it has to do with how restrained Master is throughout all of it. 

He’s silent, seemingly to be in total focus. His plays are also relatively safe and reserved, only developing his pieces without even taking or exchanging, no wild strategies, or anything I expected. But his seriousness is apparent. He’s actually trying to win against me.

But at the moment, the actual state of the game itself is currently fairly advantageous for me, I think, or at least that’s what it looks like. Because after a couple more turns it becomes clear that Master isn’t intent on going on the offensive.

—Is this a trap? Should I risk it?

I move a Pawn to attack his Knight. He moves it back instead of making an exchange with his Pawn. I chase after him with my Bishop and manage to capture a Pawn with it. 

At which point...

Master pauses, stares at the board, sighs, then looks back up at me with what seems like a slight pout. 

“Ah right,  I forgot to mention that every time a piece is taken off the board, we’ll both get a slice of memory projected into our mind.”

I blink, confusedly.

“—What?”

Then suddenly...

A sense of weariness attacks me—it comes like a rushing wave and washes away all of my vitality, rendering me defenseless! 

In a panic, I make an effort to struggle, to try to cling on, and not to lose myself to the unstopping currents.

But it is ultimately futile. The currents turn into a violent whirlpool, swirling, churning, dragging me to the center. Eventually, I begin to fall…

Falling...

Falling…

Falling… 

I blink and open my eyes again as a sense of weariness from before greets me, but this time, it has somehow become familiar, along with the burst of head-splitting pain that follows. 

I raise my hand to hold my forehead, surprised for a moment by the feeling of crassness, the raggedness of my skin. But only for a moment. Before my bewilderment is replaced by a sensation far more surreal.

—Old and weary, too exhausted to stand, or to breathe.

A different voice, overlapping with my own, tethering on combining. Sight, hearing, smell, all blend together to the point that they become difficult to tell apart. 

It’s uncanny, the feeling of being dragged into someone else’s head, wearing their skin and peering into their naked mind, laying bare all their hidden thoughts and secrets. 

—The candles cast their light on the balcony facing the blood-painted sky, the stench of smoke rose in the air and started to fade. Far away, the cries and screams have now gone silent. Just how many were there before? Just how many have—

No. He stops himself from thinking and wears the face of pragmatism once more. Just a few grains, added on top of a heap of sand. At least today will be the last.

The rushing air blows out the candles, signaling the arrival of multiple powerful presences. Fear and uncertainty flash across his heart, but among them, there’s also a deeper sense of relief.

—I knew all along that this moment would come. And it has. Now the only thing left to do is to finish it.

The shining figures stand before him; bold and powerful, they emanate a radiance unrivaled by anything in this world—the testaments of a new age’s beginning. That is what they are, and as for what they’re here to do.... he will not beg for mercy. 

Without hesitation, a single blade thrusts forward, sharp and deadly, delivering the pain swiftly as it cuts into his chest. But he does not resist. He lets it. For all that he has done to mean something, he knows he NEEDS to. 

Inches away from death, he... I… begin to speak in my last breath. They are his words yet I feel them in my mouth all the same. Every syllable imbued with a sense of acceptance, carrying the crushing weight of countless years, and countless sins. Not asking for forgiveness, but wishing, a simple wish from a cruel man.

“Let it end… with me.”

The only response I receive, however, is colder than any words, harsher than any gestures of denial, for it is simply— 

The blade finally reaches my heart, piercing through it ruthlessly, and after a split second of immense, unspeakable pain...

—Silence.

…...

“Huhhhhhhhhh—!!”

When I regain control of my actual body and stop panting, I frantically search my chest with my hands for any wounds. There isn’t one, but the pain is still very tangible, way too tangible. 

“I… He… I just got STABBED!”

“Yes, you did. Granted it wasn’t actually you, but hey, I’m not the one drawing the line.”

I clutch my chest tightly while glaring at Master, who shrugs it off like it’s nothing—of course, he just shrugs it off like it’s nothing. Why did I expect him to help, he’s the one that did this!

“Oh, please, it wasn’t even that bad. You get used to that sort of thing pretty quickly. Or so I’ve heard. Can’t say I have, though.”

“I can still FEEL IT!”

The scene from before replays itself again in my head. This time on five times speed for some reason and instead of that making it more bearable, condensing the painful part makes everything much, much worse. 

“Does this—does it ever end?”

“They will be temporary, of course. The memories are randomized, by the way, so don’t think too much into them.”

“Then why did you do this in the first place?!”

“Well, essentially, because I thought it would be fun to see how you react to it.”

Master smiles casually.

“Dying, I mean.”

And I feel a cold chill running down my spine.

“Are you… are you serious?”

“Who knows. Oh, now it’s my turn, isn’t it? Let’s see… maybe I should retake?”

“No no no wait—!”

The waves take me again. Not with the same turbulent current this time. But a calmer, gentler surface upon which I float along. 

Knowing that it is hopeless to resist, I let the waves continue to deliver me… somewhere. And not long after, I am overcome with the sensation of drowning.

…..

—I wonder… what would you be dreaming about tonight… my love.

I can’t help but think about you every time I look at the stars. Are you already cuddling nicely inside your blanket? I hope you’re not staying up late. If you do that you could get a cold easily, you know? 

Ah, before I know it, my eyes are already brimming with tears.

The sickness has gotten worse, but I could feel nothing of it, nothing but the gnawing sadness, eating away at me every day, every day that I can not see your face.

Hey, do you know? There’s a scene I dream of every night as I sleep, of you and me, and maybe him… laughing. I wish that could happen one day. I want to fix it, one day. The crack that has formed between us because of me. And tell you both about how sorry I am.

But I’m afraid there’s no time left. I’m afraid as well of the dark, the fading of the light. But there’s simply no—

No! Not yet... please not just yet! My eyes, don’t lose focus just yet! My legs, don’t stop moving just yet. My arms, don’t be tired just yet. My lungs, don’t grow cold just yet. My heart, please… don’t stop beating just yet. 

I only wish for just a little longer before the light fades, before darkness approaches, before my vision dims, and before my breathing grows shallow. 

But there’s simply… no time.

How much... I long to see your smile again, so desperately that I can feel it reaching out of my chest; my heart feels as if it’s about to burst and erupt but I can’t… She can’t—

—Cry out… even in the last... Moment.

…..

“Huaaa…! Huaaaaaaa…!”

I lump forward and take several deep breaths to steady myself, trying as hard as I can to keep my composure. These emotions aren’t mine, and yet— 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

My chest hurts so much more than before. It’s a different kind of pain. The kind that cuts deeper than any wounds. The kind that twists my heart like a knot and leaves me struggling to breathe.

“I can’t... do this—”

“Do you want to stop playing?”

Master interrupts me, and I am forced to reconsider my words. My existence, and the lives and deaths of two billion people. Before this, I wasn’t sure if Master was just threatening me, but now I am beginning to feel that this situation is truly hopeless. 

But even so...

“No... I can’t forfeit. Not again. Not this time.”

I reply affirmatively, for hopelessness doesn’t automatically mean defeat. I have no choice but to keep going because even if I give up, nothing would change. So what if Master erases me from existence? There would still be nothing stopping him from carrying out his plan on Kyrias.

—The only way where there’s a chance is that I continue to play. Even if I have a near non-existence chance to win, [near non-existence] isn’t [non-existence]. 

“See? I was right after all.” 

Master comments upon noticing my renewed commitment. 

“Well, it’s your turn, Steve. The only thing you have to do is to win… win and you can have everything.”

I just have to win, huh? It sounds simple, but how? How could I possibly win in this game? There’s no conceivable way I could do it.  Unless— 

“...—!”

I look back on the board. Yes! That’s it! That is the way to win!

All this time I’ve been comparing Master to a super-advanced chess program. I’ve completely neglected one important thing about him, one fundamental weakness that can be used against him. 

—Master is, according to himself, a being of human origin.

I don’t think he was lying at all because of how proud he was when he said it. But being human isn’t always a positive thing. Being human means that you must embody what makes us vulnerable, like the capacity for folly, the ability to be fooled and tricked.

For example, if his ability to respond to my inner monologue isn’t attributed to any mind-reading capabilities but rather a comprehensive grasp of my psyche. Then why can’t I do the same? 

If I think of him, not as a living computer, but as another human; it would open up an entirely new angle to this match as well as an array of psychological tactics that would have been useless against artificial intelligence. 

—Which means that there’s a method I can use against him!

I can’t help but smile a little as I pick up a piece from the board, the noble and agile white Knight, and put him down with immense confidence. 

Where, you ask? 

—[Random]!

Because you can’t possibly create a counter-strategy when your opponent uses absolutely [no strategy]! 

Think about it, from what I’ve seen, Master's an extremely rational person who sees the world through the lens of pure logic (his version of it anyway). So if I just move completely illogically, I would definitely be able to throw him off!

Tack~!

A sound flows to my ears like a tap on my shoulder, and when I look back… 

My Knight has already been taken off the board.

“...”

Sitting opposite me with shaking shoulders, Master blocks his mouth with his left hand, obviously trying hard not to blurt out laughing; until he eventually does it anyway.

“Pfft~! Hahaha~! Did you seriously think that was going to work?”

“You—!”

I was really proud to have come up with that, you know? Why can’t you at least pretend to play along?! I-I don’t even know what to say to you, you—!

“Heartless... Bastard!”

“—Oh, what’s this? A memory of an entire forest being burned to crisps by an exploding volcano? Check this out for me, Steve. You can tell me about it later.”

My vision fades, followed by a soul-shaking rumble and the view of the sky darkens by a malicious mixture of smoke and fire, opening the prologue of the world’s end. And that... is the beginning of the absurd and pathetic endgame. 

“Aaaaaaaaahhhh~!” 

…..

Bishop to b4, Knight takes Bishop. 

“Have you ever wondered? What does it feel like to be a lab rat? To be injected with unknown drugs and forced to take part in painful experiments? No? Well, here it is anyway.”

“Aaaaaaaaaahhh~!!”

…..

Pawn to a4, Bishop takes Knight.

“Hmmm~ What else is there? Oh, right. Having your limbs cut into pieces and boil alive, ready to be served on a first-class meal—as a fish.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah~~!!”

…..

Queen to h5, Pawn takes Queen.

“Oh, this one is definitely a classic. The pains of childbirth. A very enlightening experience. No words can describe it.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH—!!”

“That’s not a word, Steve. But points for effort.”  

My body convulses violently enough for my head to bang against the table. No matter how much I try to focus, I can't concentrate! I'm overwhelmed and drowned in foreign sensations and I feel my mind being torn and split to pieces and it makes me want to SCREAM!

“Haven’t you been doing that for a while already?”

I grit my teeth and stare daggers at Master, hoping to cut him with the force of sheer resentment alone. Which is impossible, I know—but it sure feels like something I can do right now because there’s certainly a whole of it!

“Now then, we had our fun, let us finally end this.”

Master says flatly, making me immediately jolt upright.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You can see for yourself.”

My eyes move back to the board, and at a glance, it’s clear that the situation on my side is frankly disastrous. Playing randomly has left the defensive formation way too weak, opening the King up to attacks from pretty much any angle. 

Taking into account the loss of my major pieces and...

—No matter what I do, his next turn will be checkmate.

I sink back into my chair, exhausted. I guess this is it, then, the end of the line.

“And with that…”

Master slowly stands up and reaches out to me. I reflexively close my eyes and brace myself. I don’t know exactly what he will do but it’ll probably be painful.

And that’s when...

Pop—!

“Congratulations Steve—you win!”

…..

“...Huh?”

A noise of pure confusion came out of my mouth before I knew it.

————……….

I don't know how long I simply sit there staring blankly in front of me. And only when the strings of confetti start to fall that I realize Master has surprisedly shot me with one of those party poppers again.

“Huh, I was expecting a more exaggerated reaction.” 

He mutters disappointingly, throwing aside the party poppers in his hand.

“Hold on, what? I-I won? When did that happen?”

“At the sixth move?”

Master slightly tilts his head, and probably also quirks his eyebrows too if he has them.

“How?! Wait—then that means that everything that comes afterward was necessary?”

“No, it was necessary, I hate losing.”

“...”

I—don’t think I have ever wanted to punch another person this much in my entire life. 

“Besides, I did offer to [stop playing]. And you just interpret it wrong.”

"..."

I also don’t think I could be wanting to punch him more than I already did. 

“Haaa~ Okay, whatever, you got me. But how did I, um, [win], in the first place?”

“I said that you could play the same game with the rules you understand. I didn’t say we were.”

“Is that how that works?”

Master smiles and ignores my grumbling.

“To me, this was the game.”

With a swipe of his hand, every black piece on the board turns into a King piece. Pawns, Knights, Rooks, Bishops, Queens, all transform to play the same role and hold equal value.

—Now that I think back on it, the sixth move was when I managed to capture one of his Pawns... 

Right then, my eyes widened in realization...

“Were you, trying to beat me, without losing a single piece?”

That would explain why he was so reluctant to make the early game exchange and let me chase him around. 

But then the question is; why would he do that? 

“Didn’t I say waaayy before this that I’m a pacifist? Did you forget?”

“Yeah right. And I don’t believe you.”

As if a person who immediately jumps to, let’s burn this world with fire, can somehow claim to be Gandhi all of a sudden.

After scratching his cheek a little at my frank response, Master smiles and reveals the real reason behind his action.

“Because I know that it’s [impossible].”

“Impossible?”

—Is such a thing as winning without losing a single piece that much of an impossibility for him, even against someone like me?

Master laughs a little. He must have realized my thoughts.

“Well, I could have run a full analysis of your psychological history, mapped out exactly how you would play, and plan a counter-strategy before the game even began. I could even go further than that and use one of the countless available means to force you to forfeit. ”

“And why didn’t you?”

Master smiles, a little self-deprecatingly.

“If [we] had to resort to [cheating] to achieve a perfect victory, wouldn’t that be a little pathetic?”

His choice of words surprises me. Master continues to explain.

“If there’s one thing you should know about me is that I am a cheater. Steve. Every single one of [us] was.”

Master starts to say as he picks up a King piece and begins lining them up.

“We never let anything keep us away from our goal. We never rest. We laughed and scoffed at the rules that were designed to hold us back, while at the same time exploiting them to our benefit.”

—The Kings, or rather the Pawns, are now set to face me. All identical to one another, all equally irreplaceable. 

“How to study and maybe make use of the language that turns any human who tries to comprehend it insane? Simple. Build machines to comprehend it for you and use it.”

—One by one, each piece is set up on the board. Rooks, Knights, Bishops, Queen...

“How to fix the problem of an unchanging universe where no alteration persists when you’re just a mortal with a limited psychological lifespan? Easy. Turn yourself into a living black hole of temporary knowledge and wait for the day when you explode into another universe and be replaced by a brand new you to continue doing your work.”

—Holding the last King in his hand, scrutinizing it before placing it down.

“No human—no one—should have been able to peer through the veil of reality, steal it, dissect it, study it, and imitate it. No one should ever be allowed to get away with that. Yet somehow, against all odds, we did. We figured out how. We figured [everything] out. We won, Steve. Again and again, we kept winning. No impossibilities were ever impossible for us. There’s no limit to what we can become. And yet, all this time, one simple truth still stands, unbroken.”

Finally, Master looks back at me and draws his conclusion. 

“Whoever you are, whatever you do. Actions always result in an equal amount of reactions. There’s always a price, equivalent to the exchange; you can’t win, without sacrificing a pawn.”

His proclamation stuns me. 

In chess, that truth is an accepted fact that even I understand. Because for there to be winners there must be losers. The same as in war. There are bound to be casualties, that is something you simply must accept. 

“...But, when the King is the only piece left standing on the board—if it costs you everything to win, what is winning really worth?”

I carefully observe Master. The white-haired man continues to speak ever so calmly.

“No matter what there’s no going back. The past is gone, literally, the version of the universe that [we] used to be a part of no longer exists. But even now I still wonder, is this really the best we can do?”

Turning away from me, Master stands up from his chair. In my mind, his question still lingers. I remember him saying something like that before, that change can only happen when I know. 

—I feel like I know what he’s been trying to do by showing me all of this.

“You were… testing me, this entire time?”

I don’t know since when. Maybe from the very beginning.

There's no story without conflict, so he started one, with me. He's been leading me to act according to his script, beat by beat. Saying things that would anger me, fostering a sense of hostility, and even forcing me to play this game and experience those memories. 

All that, just to make his point and help me understand him a little better. 

—Isn't this a little bit much? I was thrown into so many loops that I couldn't even tell what was real or what was acting... or what was happening.

When I agreed to his initial request to accompany him inside the Grand Archive, this isn't at all what I signed up for.

“...Don’t tell me this is how you always treat your [friends]?”

Master stops in his tracks and asks me, sincerely.

“If I say sorry, would you forgive me?”

—What a frustrating person.

"Huaaaa~ Am I allowed to not forgive you?"

—However, there's something about him that I can't bring myself to hate.

"Then, I'm sorry. But there's still something I want to ask of you."

He raises his hand and…

Snap—!

We return to the Grand Archive.

“Some part of me says that all of this is happening because I didn’t do it the right way. The loop. The outsider. Everything else.”

Master walks to take his book out of [The Astral Projector] and closes it.

“But some other part of me also says that what I did was necessary. That it was the only way a human could’ve won against reality, the Eldritch, the Voice—no, when you are facing a conflict of that scale, a perfect compromise that would lead everyone to victory simply cease to exist, it’s exactly because I have lost everything I had that I was able to get this far.”

Master walks back in front of me, holding something behind his back.

“But you said that you believe that there’s a compromise. That there’s a way that everybody could win...” 

He reveals what it is, and it doesn’t take long before I recognize it too. 

“Give me a draft, a rough outline of your plot. And if—IF you really think that you can prove me wrong…”

Master softly places the record on the table. My record.  

“Then the fate of Kyrias is in your hands.”