Chapter 56

Posted by Kuze, ? Views, Released on February 4, 2025

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Tick.

…Tick.

Tick.

…Tick.

Tick.

Sir Beatrix’s words are fading fast. My Queen, who has invaded her camp alone, is cutting down Sir Beatrix’s pieces left and right.

Rooks can only move in straight lines forward, backward, left, or right. If the Queen attacks from a diagonal, they become powerless immediately. Of course, they could avoid it by moving position.

The same goes for Bishops and Knights; each has some limitation to their mobility.

In contrast, the Queen can attack in all directions. No matter where you place her, she can almost always threaten other pieces from most positions.

“Geez, there’s no way around this…”

“Hehe.”

“If I dodge the Rook, the Knight dies, and if I move the Knight, the Rook dies… Tch.”

Judging by value alone, the Rook is more expensive than the Knight. With little chess experience, Sir Beatrix moved her Rook forward three squares and sacrificed the Knight to save the Rook.

Tick.

I immediately captured Sir Beatrix’s Knight. A short sigh escaped her lips. My Queen now stands where the Knight was just moments ago, putting Sir Beatrix’s white King in check. If that were all, she could simply move the King to safety, but the real problem is that my Queen also threatens the Rook she just moved diagonally.

“Well, seems like there’s no choice…”

Sir Beatrix chose to move her King. There was no other option. I promptly captured her Rook, and once again, a similar situation arose—my Queen now threatening both her King and Knight simultaneously.

A heavy silence filled the air as Sir Beatrix swallowed hard. The momentum had clearly shifted to my side, even though I only had two pieces left. Her growing frustration was evident.

This pattern repeated itself several times. Each time, Sir Beatrix helplessly handed over her pieces to me, and the gap between us narrowed bit by bit.

‘Traversing the chessboard with unstoppable force’—that phrase fits perfectly here. My Queen was a predator on the chessboard, an overwhelming one at that.

Not only the pieces but also the difference in skill was significant. While Sir Beatrix couldn’t see beyond the immediate moves, I could foresee the future of the game. Every three moves my Queen made, one of Sir Beatrix’s pieces would inevitably fall.

After exchanging dozens of moves…

Tick.

Startle.

Tick.

By now, Sir Beatrix flinched instinctively every time I picked up my Queen, because every time it moved, her pieces fell like dominoes. Initially disinterested, she gradually became absorbed in the game.

Engrained fear.

The terror felt by the weak.

The superiority felt by the strong.

Defeat, despair, reverence, fear, powerlessness.

Victory, glory, superiority, slaughter, excitement.

Chess is akin to a small war. The emotions crossing between Sir Beatrix and me played out dramatically across the square chessboard.

Tick.

And then, just now, Sir Beatrix’s last defending piece fell, leaving only her King. Checkmate. A single piece achieved what seemed impossible.

Had Sir Beatrix had even a little more chess experience, this outcome wouldn’t have been possible. Thankfully, things went as expected—someone as intense as Sir Beatrix wouldn’t have wasted time on games like chess.

“…I concede defeat.”

With a tinge of regret, Sir Beatrix removed her King. Her brown eyes were filled with a deep sense of respect for me—a respect she mistook for admiration.

“You play well. Arrogance becomes you poorly.”

“Haha, I’ve been playing chess for quite a while.”

“Who would’ve thought I’d lose just because of your Queen? Impressive.”

“I am pretty impressive, aren’t I?”

Even though she lost, Sir Beatrix complimented me. Normally, I might have accepted it graciously, but now, what she should be giving me isn’t mere compliments.

“Are you really that impressive? The Queen.”

“Undoubtedly. They don’t call it the ‘9-point piece’ for nothing.”

“The sight of her rampaging through enemy lines… The Queen truly is an awe-inspiring piece. Or maybe it’s just my excellent control?”

“Both, I’d say. The Queen’s abilities are extraordinary, and your chess skills are remarkable too.”

“Hmm…”

Nothing but compliments.

Time to shift gears.

“Surprising.”

“What is?”

“I thought you’d envy me, Sir Beatrix.”

“…Just losing based on skill doesn’t mean I should envy you.”

“Hehehe.”

Thick-skinned as ever.

Time to knock her off her pedestal.

“Still, despite saying that, why does envy seep through your voice, Sir Beatrix?”

“Stop speaking nonsense.”

“Nonsense? I’m merely stating what I observe. Your face is even flushed. Admit it honestly. You wanted to win at chess, didn’t you? Even in such a trivial game, you desired the victor’s position, didn’t you?”

“Don’t make assumptions. Who would envy something as trivial as chess? Yes, I wanted to win, but…”

“So, if it wasn’t chess, you’d feel envious about something else?”

“…”

“Your rigid nature makes me curious, Sir Beatrix. What exactly do you envy?”

When I first met Sir Beatrix.

When I learned about her past.

Later, when I indirectly showed her the ‘past self’ through chess.

I recalled those three images of Sir Beatrix.

“In fact, I wanted to show you your former self through chess.”

“I suspected as much.”

“Amidst countless soldiers and generals, you stood alone, invincible, striking fear into the hearts of enemy warriors. And within that, you felt a strange sense of superiority. That’s what I aimed to capture.”

“Superiority?! War is cruel and barbaric! How dare you suggest anyone feels superior during war!”

Leaping to her feet, Sir Beatrix refuted my statement. For someone like her, whose trauma stems from the war with the rogue nation, this conversation must be far from pleasant.

But I won’t stop talking.

“Didn’t you know? Humans are inherently savage. In war, we kill others, feel repulsion toward taking lives, fear the deaths before our eyes, and yet derive instinctual joy from crushing the weak. The world calls that final sensation ‘superiority.'”

“People misunderstand! I’m not some beast! I wielded my sword solely to protect the Holy Nation and my family! Nothing more!”

“Is that so? Then why do you polish your Greatsword?”

“…!”

When I first met Sir Beatrix, she quietly prayed while polishing her Greatsword with a handkerchief—the very weapon that pierced her father’s heart.

“Normally, people shove traumatic objects into a corner and never look at them again, right? Why does Sir Beatrix cherish her Greatsword so dearly?”

“It’s… a memento from my father…”

“Which also ended his life. Isn’t that strange? That you treat such an item with such care.”

“…”

“As if preparing for battle at any moment.”

The dialogue’s initiative shifts to me. Sir Beatrix’s resistance wanes.

I continue.

“There’s another odd point. When Sir Beatrix recounted her past, you said, ‘I became a knight to earn my father’s love.’ And that ‘Father wanted to fulfill my dream of becoming a knight, so he acted coldly toward me.’ So, if Sir Beatrix dreamed of becoming a Holy Knight, wasn’t it more likely that you admired your father, the great knight, and decided to follow in his footsteps?”

“…That’s correct. Father used to be kind long ago.”

“Ah? Then the story seems off, doesn’t it? Someone already receiving sufficient love declaring, ‘I’ll become a knight to get more love,’ doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t it be more logical to say, ‘I admire my father, the great knight!’ and choose the path of knighthood?”

Holy Knights must not harbor desires. They serve their Lord and the Seven Sacred Virtues, emphasizing spiritual cultivation alongside physical training rather than focusing solely on martial prowess.

Sir Beatrix herself hadn’t realized it—or rather, she was deceiving herself.

From a young age, the Pope, whom Sir Beatrix observed closely, was the strongest person in the Holy Nation. He crushed all external threats and always raised the banner of glorious victory. People are captivated by tales of heroism, identifying themselves with the ‘hero’ rather than the loser. They indulge in the feelings of triumph and yearn for the superior position of the victor looking down on the defeated. Young Sir Beatrix must have felt the same.

“Don’t be ashamed. Feeling superior is natural for humans. Why? Because humans are animals too! Crushing weaker beings and feeling superior, or deriving pleasure from watching those beneath you perform tricks, are all primal human desires! There’s absolutely no need to feel guilty!”

“…”

“Think back. When you swept away the rogue nation’s warriors with Lucifer’s power, didn’t you feel even a trace of superiority? The thrill of being exceptional among the weak! The instinctive superiority felt by the strong amidst the weak! Can you confidently deny ever experiencing even a shred of it? Haah, haah…”

Perhaps from speaking so passionately, my throat feels dry. As I pause to catch my breath, Sir Beatrix finally speaks after staying silent for so long.

“No such thing exists.”

“Hehe.”

“Even if I did feel it, I am a Holy Knight. I cannot take pride in harboring such vulgar desires.”

“Truly dishonest. You’re entertaining.”

Calmly denying my words, Sir Beatrix remains unyielding. She won’t give in this easily. Indeed, tempting someone as upright as Sir Beatrix will require more preparation.

Thus, I prepared further.

By creating a real-life version of the chessboard we just played.

Roar!

Screech!

“Hm? Sounds like monsters approaching. Wonder who’s coming?”

“Oh, sounds like more than just a couple.”

Looks like Aru carried out my orders properly. Just spreading my senses slightly revealed hundreds of monsters within range.

Of course, Black Wyverns. Their baiting performance is reliable indeed.

“Tch… Is this where I meet my grave?”

“What makes you think this is your grave, Sir Beatrix?”

“Well, enemies are swarming, and I have no intention to fight. Might as well die this way. I lack the right to slay those monsters anyway.”

“Minds can change anytime.”