March 11th, 2012 — 10:30 AM
Asura Academy — Central Tower, Director's Office
Perspective: Elfie
The heavy oak doors of the top-floor office were nearly three times my height, carved with intricate elven star-charts and golden dwarvian gears that clicked softly in a rhythmic, metallic pulse. ✨
I stood outside in the quiet hallway, nervously smoothing down the pleats of my black-and-gold uniform skirt.
Deep breath, Elfie... Just a normal meeting. He's just the Director... 🥺
Instructor Aisha had warned me that Director Valerius wanted to speak about the Valentine's Day power outage a month ago. Because of the dungeon aftermath, board inquiries, and exam scheduling delays, the meeting had been pushed back all the way until today.
I raised a fist, knocked twice on the polished wood, and heard a deep, calm voice from inside.
"Enter."
I pushed the door open, slipping inside.
The Director's office was enormous, surrounded by soaring floor-to-ceiling glass windows that looked out over the entire sprawling expanse of Asura Academy and the glittering white capital beyond. Sunlight streamed across rows of ancient leather grimoires, delicate floating brass astrolabes, and a massive desk carved from solid black ironwood.
Behind the desk sat Director Valerius Vane.
He looked just as imposing as he did on the stage during our entrance trials—tall, broad-shouldered, with a sharp, neatly trimmed beard and piercing grey eyes that felt like they were scanning right through my mana core. Yet, as he watched me enter, his intense aura was completely pulled in, resting as peaceful and calm as still water.
"Take a seat, Elfina," Director Valerius said, gesturing toward the high-backed velvet chair across from his desk.
"Thank you, Director!" I chirped politely, walking over with my best, most respectful posture and sitting down.
My feet barely touched the plush carpet, so I rested my hands neatly on my lap, trying not to stare at the floating mana-compass hovering near his left elbow.
Director Valerius closed the folder he had been reading, folding his large, calloused hands over the desk.
"It has been nearly a month since the Valentine's festival," Valerius began, his tone even and relaxed. "I apologize for the delay. Navigating the imperial inquiries took more time than anticipated. But today, I wanted to hear the explanation directly from you."
He leaned forward slightly, looking into my blue eyes.
"Why did you black out a 50-kilometer radius of the imperial capital on a Tuesday night?"
My cheeks warmed up, a nervous flutter tickling my stomach.
I can't tell him I did it to impress Kai... That's our secret! 🙈
"I... I just wanted to give everyone a gift, Director," I said earnestly, meeting his gaze with soft, honest eyes. "The city always has so much smoke, noise, and bright lamps. Most people never get to see how beautiful the real sky is. The cosmos, the stars, the galaxy... they belong to everyone. I thought if everyone could look up together, even for just a few minutes, it would make them happy."
Valerius watched me in silence for a few seconds.
"It did make them happy," Valerius acknowledged, his deep voice carrying a quiet, thoughtful weight. "The Imperial Palace received hundreds of letters thanking the academy for the 'festival miracle.' But magic of that magnitude does not exist in a vacuum, Elfina. When you halt the flow of electrical currents, the consequences reach far beyond romantic starlight."
I blinked, tilting my head. "Consequences?"
"Power is life in modern Asura," Valerius explained simply, tapping a small crystalline core on his desk. "When the power grid dropped, 14 life-support intensive care wards in the Central Medical Pavilion lost their primary mana lines. The subterranean Mag-Rail transit network between the lower and upper rings stalled on elevated tracks with over 3,000 passengers inside. And the cryogenic stabilization vaults in the Alchemy Research Sector nearly suffered containment breaches."
My eyes widened in genuine horror, my hands flying to my mouth. "Oh no... Did... did someone get hurt?!"
"No," Valerius answered calmly, a small, subtle smile touching the corners of his lips. "Because our infrastructure is not as fragile as you might think. Over the last century, Asura has integrated ancient dwarvian quantum-circuitry into our public grids. The moment your celestial spell suppressed the primary flow, the secondary crystalline accumulators kicked in automatically within 4.2 seconds. The hospital wards switched to localized batteries, the trains engaged brakes safely, and the alchemy vaults sealed."
He picked up a white porcelain cup of tea, taking a measured sip.
"You were fortunate that our engineers built redundancy into the city. But power is not merely lighting for homes—it powers medicine, emergency communications, food preservation, and water purification for two million citizens. To alter an entire city's grid is to hold two million lives in your palm."
I lowered my head, feeling a deep, heavy pang of remorse in my chest.
"I'm really sorry, Director," I mumbled softly. "I didn't think about the hospitals or the trains... I only thought about the sky. I promise I will never do something so reckless again."
Valerius set his teacup down with a gentle clink.
To my surprise, a rare, genuine warmth appeared in his stern eyes.
"Do not misunderstand me, Elfina. I am not scolding you. I am teaching you." Valerius said, his voice softening. "To weave a localized gravitational lens, suppress a metropolitan power grid, and project a galaxy-wide visual cascade without losing control of a single mana thread is an unprecedented feat for an 11-year-old child. Most archmages spend 40 years in secluded towers and cannot achieve half of what you did on a whim. Your talent is breathtaking."
My face turned completely red, and I tucked a stray lock of pink hair behind my ear, feeling terribly shy.
The Director of the entire academy is praising me... 😳
"Thank you, Director..." I whispered.
Valerius leaned back in his chair, looking out the massive glass window toward the grand academy towers, where hundreds of students were walking between lecture halls.
"Tell me, Elfina," Valerius said quietly. "What do you believe is the true purpose of this academy?"
I paused, looking around the grand office. "To teach us magic? To make us strong sorcerers?"
"Every minor school across the continent teaches magic," Valerius replied, his gaze distant and steady. "Valerion runs underground combat barracks where children are forged through brutal blood-trials. The Dwarvian Core Guilds produce peerless magitek machinery. The High Elves of Celestine possess centuries of sacred ancestral spells. Yet Asura Academy stands above all of them. Do you know why?"
"Because we are the best?" I guessed timidly.
"Because we are building a better future," Valerius said firmly. "What the continent experiences today is not true peace, Elfina. It is merely an uneasy silence. The Great Races—the High Elves, the Dwarvian Kings, the Demon Lords, the Dragon Monarchs—have not made their moves yet because the balance of power remains in equilibrium. But peace built on standoff is temporary. Eventually, old treaties expire. Borders clash. A single spark will ignite total war across the mortal realms."
He turned back to look directly into my eyes, his expression solemn and heavy.
"When that war comes, the weak, the farmers, the children, and those born without strong mana will have no way to defend themselves. This academy does not exist to build arrogant nobles or pampered duelists. It exists to forge a generation of fearless protectors who can stand in the breach when the sky falls."
His words resonated deep in the quiet room.
I looked down at my hands, feeling the smooth birch wood of the star pendant resting against my chest beneath my uniform.
A world where everyone lives in fear of tomorrow...
"Director," I said softly, my voice clear and steady. "I understand why you prepare for war. But... if we only build shields expecting destruction, aren't we just waiting for our fears to come true?"
Valerius raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. "Go on."
"Fate isn't a stone wall that crushes us," I explained, sharing the simple, earnest truth in my heart. "It's more like a flowing river. If you spend all your time building walls because you're scared of a flood, you forget how to steer the boat. We shouldn't just prepare for the worst because we think conflict is inevitable. We should have the will to choose our own fate, to hope for understanding, and to build a world where the boat doesn't have to sink at all."
Valerius stared at me in profound, stunned silence.
For nearly ten seconds, the only sound was the faint ticking of the brass astrolabe on the shelf.
"You reject fatalism," Valerius murmured, his sharp eyes examining my face with unprecedented depth. "You are 11 years old. You grew up in an isolated rural orphanage without formal philosophical schooling, yet you speak with the foundational conviction of the ancient sovereign scholars."
He leaned over his desk, his gaze searching.
"Let me ask you something deeper, Elfina. If different races possess irreconcilable biological natures—demons driven by primal conquest, elves by sacred isolation, dwarves by rigid material order, and humans by boundless expansion—how can a world of such contradictory entities ever exist in harmony without one devouring the other?"
I closed my eyes for a moment, pressing on the corners of my memory.
I remember this...
A long time ago, back in the quiet village orphanage...
Kai and I were sitting under the giant shade of the oak tree during a hot summer afternoon, splitting a honey-butter sandwich in half. I had asked him the exact same question: 'Kai, why can't elves, demons, and humans just live together like a happy family and share sweets?'
I remembered Kai's calm, quiet voice as he chewed his crust, looking up at the drifting clouds...
I opened my eyes, looking straight into Director Valerius's watchful gaze.
"Because existence is not an equation of dominance, Director," I said, repeating the exact words Kai had given me. "Every living race is just a different expression of the same primordial light experiencing itself in different physical forms. The demon's fire, the elf's memory, the dwarf's earth, and the human's fleeting spark are not opposing forces meant to destroy one another. They are complementary fragments of a single cosmic tapestry. Conflict doesn't arise because our natures are different; it arises because fear makes us forget that the light inside all of us comes from the very same source."
The heavy silence returned to the office, thicker and more suffocating than before.
Director Valerius sat completely motionless.
His hands remained frozen on his ironwood desk, his sharp grey eyes wide with disbelief.
Primordial Elvian Genesis... and Demonic Soul Integration metaphysics... Concepts recorded only in the lost First Dawn scriptures locked in the Imperial Vaults... spoken casually by an 11-year-old girl sitting in a student chair. - Valerius thought to himself.
Valerius took a slow, deep breath, exhaling through his nose as a wry, knowing smirk slowly formed on his face.
"Kaiser Everhart," Valerius stated quietly, not as a question, but as a settled fact. "Your friend... he told you that, didn't he?"
I beamed, my face lighting up with a radiant, proud smile. ✨
"Yes!" I chirped happily, puffing my chest with absolute pride. "My Kai is the smartest person in the entire universe!"
Valerius rested his elbows on the ironwood desk, clasping his fingers. His piercing grey eyes studied me with an intense, analytical curiosity.
"If your friend believes every race shares the same primordial origin, how did he propose we build lasting harmony between them?" Valerius asked, testing me. "Ideals are easy to preach under isolation. But in practice, how do you reconcile beings who experience reality in fundamentally incompatible ways?"
I tapped my chin, thinking back to the long afternoons Kai and I spent talking on the grass behind the orphanage.
"You can't force them to think like each other, Director," I explained earnestly, my voice steady and clear. "Because reality isn't one fixed picture that everyone sees the same way. What an elf calls truth is Plato's world of pure, eternal forms—they live for centuries, so their mind values timeless ideals, sacred memory, and rational logic above everything. But a dwarf doesn't care about abstract ideas; they are pure empiricists who only believe in what they can touch, weigh, forge, and measure with their hands."
Valerius tilted his head slightly, listening with absolute focus.
"And the other races are just as distinct," I continued, counting them off on my fingers. "Dragonics live by raw existentialism—they believe existence precedes essence, that power and personal will alone define who you are in this world. Demons operate on pure utilitarian survival—whatever delivers the maximum result with the least hesitation is their moral truth. Fairies live in fleeting sensory joy, beastkin follow primal instinct and loyalty, and humans are caught in between, constantly trapped between rational ambition and fear of fatalism."
I looked across the desk, meeting the Director's eyes.
"Their culture, their biology, their mana veins, and their upbringing shape how they think. You cannot change their nature. You cannot lecture a demon into acting like an elf, and you cannot force a dwarf to value human fleeting dreams. What a true leader must do is design a shared system where living peacefully yields more practical benefit to everyone than fighting. A framework where cooperating simply makes more sense than destroying each other."
Valerius sat in thoughtful silence for a moment before offering a sharp counter.
"A brilliant structural framework," Valerius admitted smoothly. "A rationalist design where self-interest preserves the peace. But what happens when the system breaks down? When famine strikes, when territorial ambition flares, when a rogue faction rejects your shared framework, and words no longer carry weight? If your ideal system fails to maintain harmony, what did your friend say we must do then?"
I paused, pressing my fingers to my temples.
What did Kai say after that...?
My memory drifted back to that sunny afternoon. I remember frowning at Kai because his answer had sounded so harsh and cold compared to the warm breeze rustling the leaves.
I swallowed lightly, looking back at Valerius.
"Kai said... if understanding and systems fail, then you defeat them until they have no other choice."
The temperature in the Director's office seemed to drop a degree.
"He told me that in this world, winning is everything," I continued softly, the memory vivid in my mind. "He said that morality, ideals, and harmony are luxuries decided only by the survivor. As long as you are the winner, you earn the right to write history, define the laws, and protect the future. But if you lose, your kindness becomes nothing more than a forgotten footnote."
When I was little, I didn't understand why Kai sounded so ruthless. I just wanted everyone to hold hands and eat sweets together.
Director Valerius, however, slowly exhaled a breath, a faint, approving nod tipping his head.
"He is completely correct," Valerius said, his deep voice carrying the unvarnished weight of experience. "Kindness without the strength to enforce it is merely weakness dressed in virtue. The winner writes the rules. The defeated only inherit the consequences."
I looked at the Director, watching the calm authority in his face, and a question that had been quietly lingering in my heart for weeks suddenly bubbled up to the surface.
Why Kai...?
This academy was the grandest fortress of sorcery on the continent. Every single student here had been chosen because of extraordinary mana capacity, ancestral bloodlines, or world-class magic.
Yet almost all the instructors—except for Instructor Aisha—disliked Kaiser. They looked at him with quiet resentment because his low 1-credit scores dragged down the class average, and they constantly complained that he lacked the magical aptitude to be here.
I knew how brilliant Kai was. I had never once found a single flaw in his logic, his knowledge, or his strategies.
So why was he here?
"Director," I asked hesitantly, leaning forward. "May I ask you a question?"
Valerius gestured with an open hand. "Ask."
"Why was Kaiser chosen to join Asura Academy?" I looked into his grey eyes, my voice small but determined. "He has no magic. The instructors don't like him because they think he brings down our grades and doesn't belong in a magic school. How did he get accepted?"
Valerius stared at me for a beat, and then—for the first time during our entire meeting—he let out a low, rumbling laugh.
Ha.
"The instructors dislike him precisely because they did not choose him," Valerius chuckled, shaking his head. "Normally, the faculty council reviews entrance dossiers and selects the candidates they wish to mentor. But with Kaiser Everhart, they were given zero say in the matter."
He smiled faintly, resting his chin in his hand.
"In fact, even I did not choose him."
My eyes widened in genuine shock. "You didn't choose him either?! Then... who did?"
Valerius's smile faded into a calm, reverent stillness.
"His admission was a direct, personal directive from the highest authority in the empire," Valerius answered evenly. "Emperor Noctis Valentine himself personally mandated that Kaiser Everhart be enrolled in this academy."
Emperor Noctis Valentine...?!
My breath caught in my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
The Emperor of Asura?!
Why would the ruler of the entire empire, the man sitting on the golden throne of the continent, personally step in to enroll a magicless boy from a tiny village orphanage?!
"What did the Emperor see in him?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "What did he see in Kai that no one else could?"
Director Valerius looked at me, his gaze growing distant, pondering the question deeply before delivering his answer.
"When the faculty and I review candidates, we look for magical capacity, bloodline affinity, and the potential to grow and become better," Valerius stated quietly. "That is what we saw in you, in Rose, in Lucas, and in every prodigy in these halls."
He paused, his eyes locking onto mine with an unshakeable, piercing gravity.
"But what Emperor Noctis saw in Kaiser Everhart was not someone with the potential to become better. He saw someone who possessed the potential to always win."
The words echoed in the quiet room like a strike of thunder.
The potential to always win.
I sat frozen in my velvet chair, my mind spinning into a storm of confused, overwhelming questions.
What kind of link does Kai have with the Emperor?
How does the imperial family know so much about him?
And what does 'always winning' truly mean to someone who has no magic at all...?
Before my thoughts could spiral further, the distant, chime-like toll of the academy bells echoed across the campus courtyards.
Valerius glanced at the floating astrolabe on his desk, then looked back at me with a calm, fatherly smile.
"Your lunch break is coming to an end, Elfina. You should return to your class before Instructor Aisha marks you tardy."
I quickly shook myself out of my trance, standing up and bowing politely. "Y-yes, Director! Thank you so much for your time today!"
"Go," Valerius nodded. "And good luck in the Tri-Labyrinth Siege. I expect great things from Class C."
I bowed once more, turned on my heel, and slipped out the heavy ironwood doors into the quiet stone corridor.
The bright afternoon sun poured through the high arched windows as I walked briskly back toward the Class C wing. My boots clicked against the polished marble floor, but my mind was miles away, lost in the Director's final words.
The exam is in three days...
I need to focus on winning the Tri-Labyrinth Siege with Class A and protecting my classmates from expulsion first.
Once this trial is over... I'm going to sit down with Kai, look him in the eyes, and ask him everything.
I stopped for a moment by the courtyard railing, looking down at the students laughing and chatting below.
A quiet, profound question echoed softly in my heart:
In a world full of terrifying monsters, grand archmages, and divine sorcerers... what potential about winning did the Emperor see in the boy who holds my hand?
---
---
March 12th, 2004 — 2:15 PM
Imperial Citadel — Emperor's Sovereign Office
Perspective: Emperor Noctis Valentine
Rain tapped lightly against the tall, arched stained-glass windows of my private study, washing over the black obsidian columns and heavy crimson velvet drapes.
Across the expansive black-iron desk, a dense stack of parchment documents lay spread out under the soft, white glow of a crystalline desk lamp.
Standing on the other side of the desk was Sir Reed Vexley, the Greatest Knight of the Realm. His towering frame was clad in his signature silver-and-charcoal plate, his weathered, handsome face etched with the quiet focus of a veteran commander.
I leaned back in my high-backed leather chair, tapping a finger against the armrest as I skimmed the top document.
---
### [IMPERIAL MILITARY BRIEFING: REPORT #04-882]
* Location: Eastern Border Sector 4 — Whispering Ridge & Sunken Ford
* Hostile Force: Coalition Vanguard (Valerion Irregulars + Iron-Paw Beastkin Mercenaries)
* Estimated Strength: 1,200 Shock Troopers, 4 Heavy Siege Constructs
* Incident Summary: Sustained midnight border raids targeting three grain-supply outposts. Guerrilla hit-and-run tactics designed to probe the eastern mana-barrier frequency and provoke an overextended imperial counter-offensive.
* Casualties: 18 Border Wardens wounded, Outpost Alpha supply line severed.
---
I lifted my eyes from the parchment, looking up at Reed.
"Valerion is getting bolder on the eastern rim," I noted calmly, my voice steady. "They're pairing their light skirmishers with Beastkin mercenaries to bypass our heavy cavalry choke points."
"It's a textbook bait, Your Imperial Majesty," Reed replied in his deep, gravelly baritone, pointing a calloused finger at the hand-drawn tactical map on the table. "They want us to mobilize the 4th Obsidian Vanguard to chase them into the marshlands. If we commit our heavy knights into the mud, their agile Beastkin raiders will flank our supply line from the Sunken Ford."
"What is your recommendation?" I asked.
"We don't chase them," Reed said with a faint, confident smirk. "We reinforce the Sunken Ford with two auxiliary barrier units and let their raiders hit a stone wall. Meanwhile, we deploy a light detachment of wind-scouts to burn their forward supply depot at Whispering Ridge. Without grain and range, their mercenaries will pack up and retreat across the border within 4 days. No bloodshed, no heavy losses, and zero imperial overextension."
I nodded slowly, signing my name with a flourish of black ink across the authorization seal.
"Efficient and clean. Execute it immediately, Reed."
"At once, Sire," Reed said, bowing with crisp, military precision. He rolled up the parchment and slipped it into his leather side-pouch, but hesitated before stepping toward the heavy oak doors.
I looked at him, resting my chin in my hand. "Before you depart for the eastern command... take a detour to the outskirts of the lower capital."
Reed blinked, raising an eyebrow. "The outskirts, Sire?"
"The Decaying Foundation," I instructed quietly. "I want you to personally test our 20th Generation subject. Just a quick teleport."
Reed let out a hearty, booming laugh, scratching the back of his neck with a wide grin. "Sire, with all due respect... Director Vance's reports are always full of dramatic exaggerations. You're asking the Greatest Knight of the Realm to test a 3-year-old toddler? I could accidentally blow the boy away just by drawing my sword from its scabbard."
A faint, dry smirk touched my lips.
Reed is right to laugh.
To any normal martial artist on Earth or Asura, testing a 3-year-old child in physical combat is absurd. Director Vance's reports of Subject 000981's superhuman intellect might be overestimating his real-world combat capacity. Superior academic knowledge does not automatically translate to defeating an undefeated adult sword saint.
"Just take the test, Reed," I murmured with an amused look. "Consider it a favor for the Foundation's research data."
"Understood, Sire," Reed chuckled, bowing once more. "I'll go play with the little monster soon and be back before dinner."
With a rustle of his silver cape, the Knight of the Realm stepped through the doors, leaving the room in quiet peace.
I closed my ledger, stood up from my desk, and walked down the grand, quiet corridors of the Imperial Palace.
---
Imperial Living Quarters — Royal Sunroom
2:45 PM
The scent of blooming jasmine and warm vanilla tea filled the bright, glass-domed sunroom.
Sitting on a circular plush velvet rug in the middle of the room were Empress Rosaline and our 3-year-old daughter, Rose.
Rose sat on her knees in a delicate crimson-and-white ruffled dress, her golden-spun blonde curls tied back with a silk ribbon. Her chubby little cheeks were puffed in intense concentration, her bright blue eyes darting across a hand-carved marble chessboard set between them.
Beside her, Rosaline leaned gracefully on one elbow over a silk bolster, sipping her floral tea with an amused, loving smile.
"Check," Rose chirped proudly, her tiny hand sliding a white carved rook across the marble board with a soft clack. "Mama's king cannot move to the left!"
Rosaline laughed softly, setting her porcelain teacup down. "A very aggressive opening, my little darling. But what happens if Mama's knight jumps behind your pawn structure?"
Rosaline moved her obsidian knight, effortlessly defusing the pressure.
Rose gasped softly, placing her tiny hands on her cheeks in dramatic shock. "Ah! Mama is cheating! Knights can't jump that far!"
"Knights jump wherever the board allows them, little rose," I said, stepping into the room with a warm, genuine smile.
Rose's eyes lit up the moment she heard my voice. "Papa!"
She immediately abandoned the chessboard, scrambling up on her little feet and running across the rug, throwing her arms around my knees.
I chuckled, scooping my 3-year-old daughter into my arms and lifting her high into the air before pulling her close against my chest. Her soft giggles echoed brightly against the glass dome.
"How is my future Empress doing today?" I teased gently, tapping the tip of her little nose.
"I am learning military tactics, Papa!" Rose declared with fierce, adorable determination, puffing her chest. "When I grow up, I am going to lead the entire Asura Imperial Army! I will protect Mama, protect Papa, and protect all the people in our kingdom so no bad guys can hurt them!"
I smiled warmly, walking over to the couch and sitting beside Rosaline while keeping Rose on my lap.
"And how is her tactical progress, Rosaline?" I asked, looking at my wife.
Rosaline brushed a stray lock of golden hair behind Rose's ear, her violet eyes gleaming with maternal pride. "She is a prodigy, Noctis. She is only 3 years old, yet her analytical ranking is already approaching 1,800 to 2,000 Elo. She consistently calculates 6 to 7 moves ahead, and if I don't pay close attention, she sets up lethal queen-traps."
Rose beamed with pride, grinning up at me. "Once I defeat Mama, I am going to defeat Papa next!"
I let out a hearty laugh, gently stroking her soft golden hair with a proud headpat. "Is that so? You'll have to study for quite a few more years before you can beat your Papa, little one. I happen to be much better at chess than your Mama."
Rosaline scoffed with playful indignation, nudging my shoulder with her elbow. "Only because you're a Grandmaster from your old studies, Noctis! Don't brag to our daughter!"
"Experience is a valid metric on the board, my dear," I chuckled, resting my arm around Rosaline's shoulders.
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to a soft whisper near Rosaline's ear so Rose wouldn't overhear.
"I have to take a short trip to the lower capital this afternoon, Rosaline. Please stay with Rose and take care of her today."
Rosaline looked up, her expression turning quiet and attentive. "The Decaying Foundation?"
"Yes," I whispered back. "Director Vance sent an urgent inquiry regarding Kaiser's status. I need to observe his progress in person."
Rosaline's hand tightened slightly on her dress, a flicker of longing and maternal sorrow passing through her eyes. She desperately wanted to come along, to hold her baby boy in her arms, but she understood the severe political secrecy required to keep his existence hidden from foreign spies. She gave a small, resolute nod.
"Take care of our boy, Noctis," Rosaline murmured softly.
"I will," I promised.
I looked down at Rose, who was tugging at my sleeve with a big, bright smile.
"Papa, do you have to leave for work?" Rose pouted cutely.
"Just for a little while, my brave little general," I smiled, leaning down and pressing a gentle, loving kiss to her forehead. "Keep practicing your knight forks with Mama. When I come back tonight, I expect a proper duel."
"I promise to defeat you, Papa!" Rose cheered, saluting like a tiny knight.
I gave her one last warm smile, stood up, and quietly made my way out of the royal residence.
---
Outer Lower District — Subterranean Level 4
The Decaying Foundation
3:45 PM
The warm sunlight and sweet laughter of the palace vanished, replaced by the cold, damp scent of sterile stone and humming mana-conduits.
Guards in unmarked obsidian armor bowed in absolute silence as I walked through the heavily reinforced steel blast doors.
We traversed the sterile white corridors, passing reinforced observation cells and biometric mana-scanners, until the heavy blast doors hissed open to reveal Observation Chamber Alpha.
Behind a reinforced pane of one-way observation glass sat Director Vance, surrounded by glowing data monitors and four senior researchers in pristine white coats.
Beyond the glass, sitting alone in the center of an empty white room on the cold linoleum floor, was a 3-year-old boy.
He was dressed in loose, grey institutional linen trousers and a short-sleeved smock. His messy black hair fell across pale, translucent skin, and his light blue eyes—devoid of childish warmth—were fixed entirely on a massive, leather-bound volume of ancient continental philosophy resting on his knees.
He didn't move. He didn't fidget. His eyes scanned the dense, archaic text at a steady, rhythmic pace, turning the heavy parchment pages with eerie precision.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Director Vance greeted, stepping forward and offering a stiff, clinical bow. "Thank you for arriving so quickly."
I kept my gaze fixed on the boy beyond the glass.
"What is his current condition, Vance?" I asked, my voice dropping into a quiet, measured tone.
"Problematic, Your Highness," Vance reported, handing me a glowing data pad. "His carnivorous amnesia cycle has become increasingly aggressive. He wakes up every morning with a completely erased cognitive slate. Today, we had to guide his autonomic nervous system through mana-stimulation just so his body remembered how to breathe properly."
I frowned, looking down at the neurological graphs. "He forgot how to breathe?"
"His mind processes sensory and theoretical data at such a monstrous, lethal volume that the brain would literally cook itself within hours if the amnesia didn't purge his memory," Vance explained coldly. "And worse... we are running out of curriculum."
"Running out?"
"He devours every textbook, treaty, linguistic root, and logistical manual we provide within hours," Vance sighed, gesturing to the floor-to-ceiling archive racks. "We have resorted to feeding him the same advanced imperial philosophy and quantum mana theory texts over and over again. Every single morning, he reads them as if encountering the universe for the first time, comprehends them completely, and closes the book by noon."
"And the suicide attempts?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Stabilized for now," Vance replied. "Whenever his brain encounters a logical void or lack of stimuli, his autonomic system tries to shut itself down. Your Highness... he is a weapon of mass destruction. If this child were ever to leave these walls, learn the horrors of war, and find someone capable of lending him external mana... he possesses the strategic capacity to end this world before his 20th year."
A flare of cold anger tightened my chest. I turned my head, glaring down at Vance.
"He is a 3-year-old child, Vance," I stated, my voice slicing through the sterile hum of the room. "The Decaying Foundation was created to forge elite protectors for Asura's future, not to cage a toddler like an apocalyptic contagion. Why is he the only subject locked away in Chamber Alpha under a Level 20 curriculum?"
"Because there is no higher or lower curriculum for him, Your Highness," Vance answered without a shred of doubt. "Level 20 is his exact biological baseline. A higher level does not exist in our world, and lower levels cause his mind to atrophy from sheer boredom."
I looked back through the glass at the small, fragile boy turning another page of philosophy.
Math, literature, memory, spatial manipulation, strategic logic...
My daughter Rose is 3 years old. She plays with wooden dolls and learns chess from her mother, calculating six moves ahead with joy.
Is this boy truly the terrifying anomaly Vance claims he is? Or are these scientists projecting their own paranoid fantasies onto a child with high processing speed?
"If his strategic capacity is as absolute as you claim," I said, turning back to Vance, "then test him."
"He can be tested in any metric you desire, Your Highness," Vance replied. "His raw algorithmic capacity rivals the quantum cores of the Dwarvian subterranean mainframes."
"Then I will test him myself," I declared calmly. "Set up a chessboard in the testing room. I will play him in a match."
The four researchers behind Vance immediately gasped, turning pale as they stepped forward in protest.
"Your Imperial Majesty, no!" the lead researcher stammered, waving his hands in panic. "Subject 000981 only woke up four hours ago! His neural pathways are still stabilizing, and his memory is entirely raw!"
"He hasn't even established proper baseline motor synchronization for the day!" another researcher added frantically. "Subjecting him to high-intensity strategic strain could trigger a neural seizure!"
"Silence," Vance commanded, raising a hand. He turned to me, his sharp eyes gleaming with dark curiosity. "If the Emperor wishes to test him, we comply."
Vance signaled a technician, who hurried to an auxiliary console and returned carrying a pair of sleek, silver-rimmed analytical spectacles.
"What is this?" I asked, looking down at the device.
"A neural-link visor connected directly to our central quantum mainframe," Vance explained, offering the glasses. "We have been running our automated chess engine against Foundation students all month. It evaluates positions in real time, projecting optimal moves and win probabilities. We ask that you wear it, Your Highness."
I looked at the glasses with dry, sovereign disdain. "I am a Grandmaster, Vance. I do not need a machine to beat a 3-year-old child at chess."
"It is not to help you win, Your Highness," Vance urged with a faint, wry smirk. "Subject 000981 is extraordinarily adaptable. He learns by observing perfection. To measure how rapidly he assimilates systemic logic, he needs to face the most flawless tactical engine we can provide."
I hesitated for a second, then took the glasses and slipped them into my pocket.
"I will decide whether to use them," I replied coldly.
---
Chamber Alpha — Inner Testing Room
4:05 PM
The heavy steel door slid shut behind me with a muted click.
The small boy looked up from his book. He slowly placed the heavy volume on the floor, stood up on his bare feet, and stared at me.
His light blue eyes—the exact mirror of my own—were wide, curious, and unsettlingly vacant.
I walked to the center of the room, set a low wooden folding table between us, and placed a tournament-grade wooden chessboard onto the surface. I sat cross-legged on the floor, opening the velvet pouch of carved wooden pieces.
The boy tilted his head, watching my fingers.
"What is that?" the boy asked. His voice was soft, slightly hoarse, and entirely devoid of emotional inflection, sounding more like an inquisitive machine than a human child.
"We will play a game." I replied gently, placing the white pieces on my side of the board. "A battle of two armies on a field of 64 squares."
The boy blinked. "Battle?"
"A strategic contest," I simplified, gesturing to the black pieces on his side. "Set your pieces like mine."
The boy reached out with small, slightly uncoordinated hands. He picked up his black pawns, carefully placing them across the seventh rank, mirroring my setup piece for piece.
"Why do they have different shapes?" the boy asked, picking up a black knight and inspecting the carved horse head.
"Because each piece possesses a different rule of movement," I explained. "The pawns advance forward. The rooks move in straight lines. The bishops cut diagonally. The knights jump in an L-shape. The queen moves anywhere she pleases. And the king moves one step in any direction. The objective is to trap the enemy king so he has no escape."
The boy stared down at the board for three seconds, his eyes darting across every single square.
"Trap the king..." he murmured softly. "I understand."
I took a breath. I had left Vance's quantum glasses in my pocket; I wanted to test this boy using my own pure, unassisted human intellect.
"White moves first," I said.
---
### [MATCH 1: GM NOCTIS (WHITE) VS. SUBJECT 000981 (BLACK)]
I pushed my king's pawn two squares forward.
1. e4
The boy looked at my move. Without hesitation, he reached out with his tiny hand and mirrored my pawn.
1... e5
I developed my kingside knight toward the center, attacking his pawn.
2. Nf3
The boy reached out, picked up his d-pawn, and pushed it one square to defend.
2... d6
Philidor's Defense. A classic, solid opening shape. But passive.
I immediately struck at the center.
3. d4
The boy paused. He reached for his light-squared bishop and slid it across the board, pinning my knight to my queen.
3... Bg4
Then, the boy did something bizarre.
Before I could even touch my piece, the boy reached out again, picked up his black rook, and tried to slide it diagonally across the board like a bishop to capture my center pawn!
I reached out, catching his tiny wrist gently.
"No," I told him softly. "Rooks cannot move diagonally. Rooks only move straight—forward, backward, left, and right."
The boy blinked, looking at his rook. "Only straight?"
"Only straight."
The boy placed the rook back on its starting square without arguing.
I struck his center pawn with mine.
4. dxe5
The boy immediately grabbed my knight on f3 with his bishop, capturing it.
4... Bxf3
I recaptured with my queen, bringing her into an active attacking position.
5. Qxf3
The boy recaptured my pawn on e5 with his d-pawn.
5... dxe5
He had given up his bishop pair on move 4, trading away his active piece for nothing and leaving his kingside completely undeveloped.
I developed my light-squared bishop to c4, taking aim directly at his vulnerable f7 square.
6. Bc4
A direct, textbook threat of Scholar's Mate.
The boy saw the attack. He developed his knight to f6 to block the diagonal.
6... Nf6
I slid my queen to b3, creating a devastating double-threat: attacking the weak f7 pawn for mate and threatening his undefended b7 pawn.
7. Qb3
The boy looked at the two threats. He picked up his queen and moved her to e7 to guard f7.
7... Qe7
Then, the boy reached out with his black king and tried to slide it two squares forward to e7 right on top of his queen!
I caught his hand again.
"Illegal move," I said. "The king can only move one square at a time. And two pieces cannot occupy the same square."
The boy stared at his king, his eyes tracking the six surrounding squares. "One square only."
He set the king back on e8.
I brought my queenside knight out to c3, maintaining developmental tempo.
8. Nc3
The boy pushed his c-pawn to c6, guarding the b5 square.
8... c6
I brought my dark-squared bishop to g5, pinning his knight on f6 to his queen.
9. Bg5
The boy looked at my bishop. He reached out and pushed his b-pawn forward, trying to kick my bishop on c4 away.
9... b5
Then, the boy reached out with his knight and tried to jump it backward in a straight three-square line like a rook.
I tapped his hand.
"Knights do not move straight," I reminded him. "Two squares in one direction, then one square to the side. An L-shape."
"Two, then one," the boy repeated in that flat, curious tone, placing the knight back on f6.
I looked at his pawn on b5. He thought he was driving my bishop away, but he had overextended his queenside and left his king stranded in the center.
It was time to blow open the board.
I grabbed my knight on c3 and slammed it directly into his pawn on b5, sacrificing the piece!
10. Nxb5!!
The boy reached out and recaptured with his c-pawn.
10... cxb5
I brought my bishop down with check, ripping the center apart.
11. Bxb5+
The boy blocked the check by developing his queenside knight to d7.
11... Nbd7
I castled queenside, activating my heavy rook directly along the open d-file against his pinned knight.
12. O-O-O
The boy slid his rook to d8, trying desperately to reinforce the pinned knight.
12... Rd8
Then, the boy reached out with his black pawn on a7 and tried to move it backward to a8 to guard his corner!
I held his wrist for the fourth time.
"Pawns never move backward," I instructed firmly. "Once a pawn advances, it can only move forward."
The boy looked at the pawn, his fingers letting go. "Forward only. Never back. Okay."
I smiled faintly. Four fundamental illegal moves—rook diagonal, king double-step, knight straight-line, pawn retreat. All corrected.
I grabbed my rook on d1 and slammed it into his knight on d7, executing an exchange sacrifice!
13. Rxd7!
The boy recaptured with his rook.
13... Rxd7
I brought my second rook to d1, locking his remaining pieces in a fatal double pin along the d-file.
14. Rd1
The boy tried to relieve the pressure by offering a queen trade, sliding his queen to e6.
14... Qe6
I took his rook on d7 with my bishop, giving check.
15. Bxd7+
The boy recaptured with his knight on f6.
15... Nxd7
I looked down at the board.
His knight on d7 was defending the back rank. His king was trapped on e8.
The masterpiece was ready.
I picked up my white queen, lifted her high, and slammed her down on the b8 square right into the teeth of his black army!
16. Qb8+!!
A pure, breathtaking Queen Sacrifice.
The boy had no choice. His knight was forced to capture my queen.
16... Nxb8
I picked up my rook on d1, slid it all the way down the open file to d8, and placed it firmly on the square.
17. Rd8#
"Checkmate," I announced quietly.
A rook and bishop checkmate in the dead center of the back rank. The boy's king was completely paralyzed, having never even managed to castle.
The 3-year-old boy stared at the board for a long, silent moment. His eyes traced the rook on d8, the bishop on g5, and his trapped king on e8.
He didn't cry. He didn't get angry. He just sat there, motionless.
I reached into my pocket, pulled out Vance's analytical glasses, and slipped them over my eyes.
The crystalline lenses flickered with a stream of cyan data, scanning the board and running the game through the quantum engine's verification algorithm.
A glowing summary appeared over my vision:
---
### [ENGINE VERIFICATION LOG]
* White (Emperor Noctis): Accuracy 98.4% — Grandmaster Performance
* Black (Subject 000981): Accuracy 48.2% — Incompetent Beginner / 4 Blunders / 3 Missed Wins
---
I took the glasses off, resting them on the table with a soft, heavy sigh.
48.2 percent accuracy...
Four illegal moves. Giving up the bishop pair on move 4. Pushing pawns recklessly. Leaving his king trapped in the center to be mated in seventeen moves.
Rose can already calculate 6 moves ahead, maintains an 1800 Elo rating, and plays with far more tactical maturity without undergoing a single day of Level 20 curriculum. What's wrong with her brother then?
I looked across the table at the silent, fragile little boy in grey linen smock.
A bitter disappointment washed through my chest, mixed with a strange, aching pity.
Director Vance was wrong.
He is not a monster. He is not a weapon of mass destruction.
He is just a broken, amnesiac child playing with wooden toys.
My son at the end of the day, can't always win... nobody can.
I began gathering the captured wooden pieces, ready to pack the board and leave.
Suddenly, a tiny, pale hand reached across the table, grabbing the sleeve of my coat.
I stopped, looking down.
The 3-year-old boy was looking up at me. His light blue eyes—usually so cold and vacant—carried a strange, flickering spark of raw curiosity.
"One more," the boy whispered, his voice small, earnest, and pleading. "Please. Another match."
I looked at his small fingers clutching my cuff. A warm, paternal softness tugged at my chest.
"You just lost in 17 moves, kid," I said gently, offering a warm, patient smile. "Chess is not a game you master in 10 minutes."
"I liked it," the boy insisted, tugging my sleeve again. "I understand the rules now."
I blinked, genuinely amused. "You understand the rules now? Just because you know pawns don't move backward?"
"No," the boy murmured, staring at the empty wooden board with a chilling, intense stillness. "The pieces are not wood. They are space, time, and coordinates. I know where the squares function. It is a game of prediction."
Game of prediction...?
I let out a soft, dry chuckle.
Fine. If he wants another lesson, a father should indulge his son.
To test how much pressure his young mind could endure, I slipped Vance's silver-rimmed analytical spectacles back over my nose. The cyan heads-up display booted up instantly, connecting to the Foundation's 5,000-Elo quantum chess mainframe: Alpha-C.
A glowing stream of cyan coordinates locked over every square on the board.
"Set your pieces," I said softly.
The boy quickly arranged his black army, his movements significantly sharper than before.
---
### [MATCH 2: FATHER (ALPHA-C ASSISTED) VS. KAISER]
This time, the boy didn't blindly mirror my opening pawn.
1. e4 c6
2. d4 d5
3. Nc3 dxe4
4. Nxe4 Nd7
5. Ng5 Ngf6
6. Bd3 e6
7. N1f3
The Caro-Kann Defense. A remarkably solid, hyper-resilient pawn structure. In just seven moves, the boy had completely discarded his previous reckless play, building an unyielding defensive fortress.
Then, on move 7, the boy reached out and pushed his h-pawn forward to kick my knight away.
7... h6?
A natural, human defensive move.
Instantly, the Alpha-C engine inside my visor flared with a blinding flash of cyan calculations, projecting an 18-ply refutation in 0.1 seconds.
Evaluation: +4.8. Forcing tactical collapse.
I grabbed my knight on g5 and slammed it directly into the heart of his e6 pawn chain!
8. Nxe6!!
"A knight sacrifice," I murmured, watching the boy's eyes widen. "You cannot ignore it. If you move your queen, your king is checkmated. If you take the knight, your defense shatters."
The boy looked at the board for three seconds, his jaw tightening as he took the knight with his f-pawn.
8... fxe6
9. O-O Qe7
I brought my light-squared bishop down with a devastating check.
10. Bg6+ Kd8
His king was forced onto d8, permanently stripping his castling rights and burying his kingside rook in the corner.
The engine's cyan lines guided my hands with robotic perfection.
11. Bf4 b5
12. a4 Bb7
13. Re1 Nd5
14. Bg3 Kc8
15. axb5 cxb5
16. Qd3 Bc6
Kaiser was defending with astonishing tenacity, shifting his king to safety and coordinating his pieces to plug every leak.
Then, on move 17, the Alpha-C engine flashed the killing blow:
17. Bf5!!
A bishop sacrifice offered right in front of his queen!
"If you take my bishop with your pawn, your queen hangs," I explained calmly. "And if you don't take it, my rook invades e7."
The boy stared at the bishop on f5, his chest heaving with rapid breaths. He reached out and took the bishop with his pawn.
17... exf5
I traded down, winning his most valuable piece.
18. Rxe7 Bxe7
Then, I pushed my c-pawn into the center, shattering his final queenside pawn defense.
19. c4!
The boy froze.
His light blue eyes scanned the board, tracing the three immediate lines of forced checkmate.
There was no defense. Every single follow-up led to complete tactical annihilation within three moves.
The 3-year-old boy slowly let go of his bishop, bowing his head slightly over the board.
"I lost..." He whispered.
I removed the glasses, looking at the engine's post-game evaluation on the HUD:
---
### [ENGINE VERIFICATION LOG — MATCH 2]
* White (Noctis + Alpha-C Engine): Accuracy 99.1% — God-Tier Engine Performance
* Black (Subject 000981): Accuracy 71.4% — Intermediate Club Player / 1 Mistake (7...h6)
---
I stared at the numbers in sheer, absolute disbelief.
71.4 percent accuracy?!
In his second game of chess, playing as a 3-year-old child against a 5,000-Elo quantum engine, he scored a 71.4 percent accuracy rating?!
He made only one single inaccuracy on move 7, and from that moment on, defended with the structural maturity of a seasoned tournament veteran!
A chill ran down my spine.
I took off the analytical spectacles, placing them firmly on the wooden floor beside me.
No more engines.
No more machines.
If my son is learning this fast... I will meet him with everything I have as a Grandmaster.
"One more," I said, my voice dropping into that deep, serious tone I only used on the battlefield. "No glasses. Just you and me."
The boy looked up at me, his eyes burning with an ungodly, quiet intensity.
"Yes," the boy nodded.
---
### [MATCH 3: PURE GM NOCTIS (WHITE) VS. ADAPTED KAISER (BLACK)]
We reset the pieces. The atmosphere in the sterile white room was suffocatingly tense.
I opened with my classical queen's pawn.
1. d4 d5
2. Nf3 e6
3. e3 c5
4. c4 Nc6
5. Nc3 Nf6
6. dxc5 Bxc5
7. a3 a6
8. b4 Bd6
9. Bb2 O-O
The Queen's Gambit Declined. Flawless opening development. The boy castled smoothly on move 9, harmonizing his pieces with total mastery.
I brought my queen to d2, coordinating my bishops.
10. Qd2 Qe7
11. Bd3 dxc4
12. Bxc4 b5
13. Bd3 Rd8
14. Qe2 Bb7
15. O-O Ne5
16. Nxe5 Bxe5
17. f4 Bc7
18. e4 Rac8
19. e5 Bb6+
On move 19, the boy delivered a sharp diagonal check with his bishop, forcing my king into the corner.
20. Kh1
Then, on move 20, the boy picked up his knight and dropped it onto g4.
20... Ng4!
An immediate, lethal mate threat on h2.
I leaned forward, calculating the position. I had played this structure a thousand times on Earth.
I pushed my g-pawn to block the checkmate diagonal and attack his queen.
21. Be4 Qh4
22. g3
I have him, I thought, feeling a surge of Grandmaster confidence. His mate is blocked, his queen is attacked by my pawn, and his bishop on e4 is under pressure. He has to retreat.
The boy didn't retreat.
Without a single microsecond of hesitation, Kaiser grabbed his black rook on c8 and violently slammed it into my defending knight on c3!
22... Rxc3!!
A deflection sacrifice!
My heart stopped.
He was completely ignoring his queen on h4!
If I took his rook, his bishop on e4 would annihilate my king's defense. So I had to take his queen!
I grabbed his queen with my g-pawn.
23. gxh4
Your queen is dead, my mind screamed. Now you must scramble!
Then, the boy did something that made every drop of blood in my body turn to liquid ice.
He didn't recapture my pawn. He didn't check my king.
With calm, terrifying precision, the 3-year-old boy reached for his second rook on d8, slid it all the way down the open file, and slammed it down on d2!
23... Rd2!!
A Queen and Double-Rook Sacrifice!
At this exact, horrifying moment on the board, his Queen was captured, his first Rook on c3 was hanging, and his second Rook on d2 was hanging directly in front of my white queen!
Three major pieces sacrificed simultaneously!
I sat frozen, my hands trembling as my eyes raced across the board.
I was forced to take his second rook with my queen.
24. Qxd2
The boy swung his light-squared bishop down with check.
24... Bxe4+
I had only one legal move: block with my queen.
25. Qg2
I looked up, breathing heavily, praying his attack had run out of steam.
Then, the small boy made the quietest, most soul-crushing move on the board.
He picked up his rook on c3, slid it over to h3, and placed it down with a soft, gentle click.
25... Rh3!
Silence.
Deafening, suffocating, absolute silence.
I reached my hand out to capture his bishop on e4... and froze mid-air.
I traced the diagonal. I traced the h-file.
His bishop on e4 pinned my queen to my king. My queen couldn't move. His rook on h3 was targeting the h2 pawn.
No matter what White played—whether I pushed a pawn, sacrificed my queen, or moved a rook—...Rxh2# was mathematically, unconditionally unstoppable on the very next move.
I sat on the cold floor, staring down at the sixty-four squares.
A checkmate engineered by Kaiser through a triple-piece sacrifice against a Grandmaster.
Slowly, with numb fingers, I reached out, knocked my white king over onto its side, and let out a long, ragged exhale.
"I resign."
The boy looked at my fallen king, then looked up at me. He didn't celebrate. He just blinked his light blue eyes, waiting for the next instruction.
I reached for Vance's analytical glasses with shaking hands, putting them on to run the game verification.
The cyan screen flashed:
---
### [ENGINE VERIFICATION LOG — MATCH 3]
* Black (Subject 000981): Accuracy 98.8% — Transcendent Perfection / 0 Blunders / 0 Mistakes
* White (Emperor Noctis): Accuracy 91.2% — Grandmaster Performance
Estimated Rating (Subject 000981): 4,850 Elo (Matches Alpha-C Quantum Baseline)*
---
5,250 Elo.
98.8 percent accuracy.
In forty-five minutes, across three matches, a child had gone from not knowing how a rook moves to defeating a Grandmaster with an engine accuracy that surpassed the most advanced quantum mainframe in the empire.
My chest heaved. A mixture of primal terror, awe, and overwhelming paternal pride tore through my soul.
He didn't just learn chess...
He absorbed the entire mathematical architecture of the game in three games.
I stood up, my sovereign aura surging in the room.
I looked at the one-way glass where Director Vance and the scientists were standing with dropped jaws.
"Vance," I called out, my voice booming through the intercom with fierce, sovereign command. "Connect the Alpha-C quantum mainframe directly to the digital board. Match 4."
I looked down at my son, whose cold, piercing eyes met mine without fear.
"Let us see if the machine can defeat you."
---
A low, mechanical hum vibrated through the floor as the low wooden table retracted into the linoleum, replaced by a smooth pedestal supporting an illuminated digital obsidian chessboard.
Overhead, holographic monitors flickered to life. The Foundation's central quantum processor—Alpha-C, an algorithmic monster powered by dwarvian crystalline matrices and rated at an unfathomable 5,000 Elo—linked directly to the board.
I stepped to the side, folding my arms across my chest, keeping the silver-rimmed analytical visor over my eyes. I didn't need to touch a piece. The machine would move for Black via localized telekinetic conduits.
Kaiser stood opposite the board on his bare feet, holding the White pieces.
He looked completely relaxed. His breathing was slow, even, and mechanical.
---
### [MATCH 4: KAISER EVERHART (WHITE) VS. ALPHA-C QUANTUM MAINFRAME (BLACK)]
1. d4 d5
2. c4 e6
3. Nc3 f5
The Dutch Defense. Alpha-C opted for an aggressive, asymmetrical counter-attacking structure.
Kaiser didn't pause. Within 2 seconds of the engine's move, his hand darted across the board.
4. Nf3 Nf6
5. Bg5 c6
6. e3 Be7
7. Bd3 O-O
8. O-O Ne4
9. Bxe7 Qxe7
10. Qc2 Nd7
Look at that pace...
My analytical visor was running millions of calculations per second, but Kaiser was out-pacing the display. Alpha-C took between 10 and 22 seconds per ply, running through 60 million nodes of positional depth.
Kaiser was moving in 3 to 5 seconds flat.
11. Ne2 g5
12. h3 h6
13. Rac1 Qg7
14. b4 a6
15. a3 Kh7
16. Qb2 Re8
17. Rfd1 Kh8
18. Ne5 Nd6
19. c5 Nxe5
20. dxe5 Nf7
21. f4 h5
22. Kh1 h4
By move 22, the board had locked into a tense, claustrophobic pawn grid. The engine evaluated the position at 0.00—absolute, dead-even equilibrium.
Then, Kaiser began his slow, suffocating clamp.
23. Rg1 g4
24. g3 Nh6
25. Nd4 Qe7
26. Kg2 gxh3+
27. Kxh3 Ng4
28. gxh4 a5
29. Nf3 axb4
30. axb4 Rg8
31. Ng5 Nxe3
32. Be2 Bd7
33. Qc3 Ng4
34. Bxg4 fxg4+
35. Rxg4 Qf8
36. Qd3 Qf5
37. Qxf5 exf5
38. Rgg1 Ra4
39. Nf7+ Kh7
I watched in silent fascination as a Grandmaster.
On the surface, both sides were trading heavy blows. Alpha-C had infiltrated White's queenside, threatening pawns and maintaining active counterplay. The engine's evaluation still read +0.12—practically drawn.
Then came move 40.
Kaiser picked up his e-pawn and shoved it forward.
40. e6!!
The Positional Guillotine.
I blinked, tracing the lines on my visor.
At first glance, it looked like a careless pawn sacrifice. Black could capture with a bishop or a rook. But as my eyes tracked the subsequent diagonals, a cold jolt ran through my spine.
That single sacrificed pawn wedge severed Black's light-squared bishop and queenside rook from coordinating with the king! It wasn't an attack; it was an invisible wall erected across the entire middle of the board!
Alpha-C paused for a staggering 34 seconds—its longest calculation of the day—before initiating desperate spite checks.
40... Ra3+
41. Kh2 Ra2+
42. Kh1 Be8
43. Rxg8 Kxg8
44. Nd6 Bh5
45. Nxf5 Kh7
46. Kg1 Rb2
47. Ng3 Bg4
48. f5 Rb3
49. Kf2 Kg7
50. Re1 Rb2+
51. Kg1 Kf8
52. h5 Rb3
53. Kf2 Rb2+
54. Ke3 Rxb4
Black's rook was delivering check after check, trying to destabilize White's king and snatch queenside material.
Any mortal player would have retreated their king or tried to shield behind a piece.
Kaiser completely ignored the checks. His expression was as cold as carved ice as he pushed his passed h-pawn.
55. h6!
An inhuman, icy march.
Every check Alpha-C delivered was totally hollow. Kaiser had calculated thirty-five moves in advance; the king's open path was completely safe, while his passed pawns—e7, f6, and h6—were advancing like three executioners.
56. Ra1 Rh4
57. Ra8+ Ke7
58. Rh8 d4+
59. Kd3 Bg4
60. Rh7+ Ke8
61. Rg7 Kf8
62. e7+ Ke8
63. f6 Be6
64. Ne4 Kd7
65. Nd6 Bf5+
66. Nxf5 Rh3+
67. Ng3 b6
68. cxb6 c5
69. b7 Rxg3+
70. Kc4 Rxg7
71. hxg7 Kc7
Alpha-C's defense collapsed like a shattered mirror. Its calculations had devolved into purely forced single-ply survival.
Then, the final ascension occurred.
Kaiser picked up his e-pawn and pushed it to the eighth rank, promoting it with a sharp, crisp snap.
72. e8=Q Kxb7
On the very next move, he grabbed his g-pawn and pushed it to the eighth rank as well.
73. g8=Q d3
Two Queens.
Simultaneously dominating the board.
The crystalline visor over my eyes began glitching, numbers rapidly scrolling before freezing entirely on an infinite minus symbol. The 5,000-Elo engine had lost all computational hope.
Kaiser picked up his first queen, slamming it onto b5 with check.
74. Qb5+ Kc7
Black's king scrambled to c7.
Then, with smooth, effortless grace, Kaiser picked up his second queen from g8 and drove her down to b8.
75. Qgb8#
"Checkmate." Kaiser said quietly.
The board flared with red warning runes.
Alpha-C's holographic display stuttered, throwing out a massive data cascade before locking onto the final post-match evaluation:
---
### [CENTRAL QUANTUM MAINFRAME: MATCH EVALUATION]
* White (Kaiser): Accuracy 100% — Flawless Game / 0 Blunders / 0 Mistakes / 0 Inaccuracies
* Black (Alpha-C Quantum Core): Accuracy 96.8%
* Outcome: Forced Checkmate on Move 75
* Estimated Performance Rating (White): [ ??? ELO — CALCULATION OVERFLOW ]
---
I stood frozen in the center of the sterile room, staring at the screen.
100% accuracy against a 5,000-Elo supercomputer.
75 moves of pure, mathematically flawless squeeze.
Kaiser looked at the two white queens on the board, tilted his head, and then turned his gaze up toward me.
"What is this game called?" Kaiser asked, his voice soft, curious, and innocent.
My heart seized in my chest.
He doesn't even know its name.
His mind had erased everything by noon. Today was the first time in his entire life he had ever seen a chessboard. In 45 minutes, across four matches, he had mastered 1,500 years of human and dwarvian game theory, dismantled a Grandmaster, and crushed a quantum engine.
I slowly knelt down, meeting his light blue eyes.
"It is called chess," I replied softly. "How did you learn it so fast, 000981?"
Kaiser blinked, looking down at his small hands.
"This game is only calculation," Kaiser answered simply, his tone completely matter-of-fact. "If you can predict the combinations and moves far into the future through visualization, and coordinate your opponent's responses, then you can predict the outcome. It is just a game of prediction. If you predict 80 moves ahead, you will always win."
I stared at him, stunned. "Were you predicting 80 moves in advance?"
"No," Kaiser shook his head honestly. "I cannot hold 80 moves in my working memory. That is too heavy."
"Then how many?"
"Only 58 moves," Kaiser admitted casually. "58 moves every two seconds through complete visual projection. But I cannot do it with my eyes open. I had to close my eyes to see the branches."
I remembered move 40—right before he played `40. e6!!`—Kaiser had closed his eyes for nearly 30 seconds.
He closed his eyes for 30... and calculated 58 moves across every branch until he visualized the inevitable checkmate.
A deep, quiet breath left my chest.
I stood up, gently patted his messy black hair, and turned toward the heavy steel blast doors.
"Rest now, Kaiser," I said quietly. "You played well."
---
Observation Chamber Alpha
5:15 PM
I stepped out of the testing chamber into the observation room.
Director Vance and his four lead researchers were standing in absolute, paralyzed silence. Their faces were pale, their mouths slightly agape, staring at the telemetry logs scrolling across the monitors.
"Your Imperial Majesty..." Vance whispered, swallowing hard as he turned toward me. "Did you... did you see that?"
"I played him twice and watched the third match with my own eyes, Vance," I replied calmly, tossing the analytical spectacles onto his console.
Vance let out a dry, nervous laugh, wiping cold sweat from his brow.
"I told you, Sire. He has never touched a chessboard in his life. When the medical team tried to stop you earlier, they were not worried about his health. They were worried the test would be unfair to him because he didn't even know how the pieces moved."
Vance glanced toward the glass with an amused, teasing smirk.
"You looked quite like a proud, patient father in that first match, Emperor Noctis. Teaching your little boy the rules, holding his wrist, correcting his moves... only for him to completely dismantle you on match three and crush our mainframe on match four."
I didn't take offense. A small, proud smile touched the corners of my lips.
"He may lose once," I stated, my deep voice filled with absolute conviction. "He may lose twice while gathering data. But my son will never repeat a mistake for the rest of his life. He was born to be a winner who never repeats a loss."
Vance looked at the monitor, his gaze turning solemn and profoundly reverent.
"Then God help this continent," Vance murmured softly.
"Because there is no war that boy will ever lose twice."
---
Present Day: March 11th, 2012 — 12:45 PM
Asura Academy — Central Cafeteria
Perspective: Elfie
The bustling sounds of laughing students, clattering cutlery, and midday chatter filled the bright, sunny cafeteria as I pushed through the double glass doors.
My head was still buzzing with everything Director Valerius had told me.
Emperor Noctis Valentine personally requested Kai's admission...
Because he saw someone who had the potential to always win...
I scanned the crowded tables, looking for my favorite messy black hair and red scarf.
There he was!
Sitting at our usual corner table near the big sunny window were Kaiser and Axel.
Axel was slumped over the table, groaning over a stack of history flashcards, while Kaiser was staring intently at a glass of yellow lemon juice sitting in front of him.
As I walked over with light, quiet steps, I watched what Kaiser was doing.
Kaiser picked up a tall glass pitcher of cold water, carefully tilted it, and slowly poured water directly into his half-empty lemon juice until the glass was filled all the way to the brim again.
Axel looked up, his jaw dropping in confusion. "Bro... what are you doing? You just diluted your juice."
Kaiser set the pitcher down, looking at Axel with absolute, deadpan seriousness.
"It's a secret technique, Axel," Kaiser stated calmly. "Ancient orphanage alchemy. If you pour water into half a glass of juice, you get double the juice for FREE!"
Axel blinked, his eyes widening in pure, unadulterated awe.
"Bro..." Axel gasped, slapping the table with pure admiration. "You're an absolute genius! Why didn't I think of that?!"
I stood just behind them, covering my mouth as a soft, helpless giggle bubbled up from my throat. 🌸
A made-up technique for more juice...
I smiled warmly, looking at the boy who held the secrets of emperors and ancient scriptures in his head, yet spent his lunch break diluting juice with a straight face.
He truly is my genius. ✨
---