Ci-cin, in, in, in, in…

The echo of the bells.

I feel good. My eyes are still closed, I am numb but rested. I do not struggle to breathe. I am neither hot nor cold.

No smell in the air.

I feel something hard under my back and now that I move my fingers—I understand, I am sitting.

I flap my ears and open my eyes.

A blue sky that becomes darker towards the center. There, a tiny black star seems to distort space.

White clouds cross the space. They have abstract shapes and do not appear to have shadows.

Where I am?

What happened?

Ci-cin.

The snake tail looks down on me. Maybe it is time for me to get up. Yet, lying down, I feel so good. I feel satisfied.

Happy.

Carefree.

A sort of warmth envelops and reassures me.

I feel that I love myself and am loved by space itself.

Tail, however, does not seem to agree. It hisses and shows its teeth. Whistle.

Ci-cin, Ci-cin!

“Okay, okay. I get up, I get up, wait.”

I do not feel like getting up. I feel stupid admitting it, but I would look at this sky for eternity.

Eternity.

A long word meaning. Difficult to metabolize.

I sit and look at the world around me. I am on a black square, much longer and wider than me. It alternates with white squares; the chessboard continues endlessly.

Chains hold giant structures at various distances. They are all thin as if they had to remain within the confines of a single square.

Ci-cin.

I stand up.

I am on a giant chessboard. Under an alien sky, blue and bright. A cloud engulfs the top of a structure.

“Where I am?”

The tails do not respond. I twitch my toes. I am on a smooth, clean floor. No traces of dust.

This is not the Underwasteland.

This is not my house.

[Dungeon path]

I struggle to focus on a place. I appear on a white square. I try to remember the spaces that are familiar to me, but with each attempt, I emerge on a different square.

Space is isotropic and the black circle is always at the exact center of the sky. If it were not for the pieces and the clouds, I would have no references.

However, there are too many pieces. I do not recognize them all, but the white and black followers—I've counted at least fifty-odd so far. They are almost as tall as me, gothic, and with pointed heads.

Even the structures repeat at intervals that I do not understand. Only God [G] cannot be found. Maybe they are rare, or maybe unique as it should be.

I wander this land for a while, unable to understand.

I had just finished the reset with the [Yellow Queen], what happened next?

Explosion. A new one. An unexpected reaction, well beyond what Y expected.

And now here I am.

Is this the new universe? Or has the universe regressed to an unknown stage?

From the black disk, lightning rains in the distance. After a few minutes, my ears pick up the echo of the roar that is lost in the immensity.

The black lightning has disappeared, but the field of vision appears distorted like a polychromatic mirage. Something happened where it hit.

[Dungeon path]

♦

I emerge on a black box. I no longer see any distortion, but a coffin is placed on a white square.

It is minimal, black, and metal.

I look up, but the sky is calm. The clouds pass through and the empty eye does not suggest further lightning.

Ci-cin.

On tiptoe, I approach the coffin. I recognize it thanks to the stories of some mortals.

Running my hands over the edge, I look for the opening mechanism and after a clack, I realize I've found it.

I lift the lid. Inside, I find a soft, studded, white covering. There are blue flowers and an elaborate lace and ruffled dress. It is white, with gold floral embroidery.

With one hand, I lean on the edge of the coffin, while with the other I caress and feel the soft and smooth velvet. It has a pleasant texture to the touch.

An impulse pushes me to take it, grab it. I feel like I have to wear it. I suddenly feel ashamed of my clothes. Clothes that I have always worn, which have changed with me as I have grown, which have been regenerated with me.

The [Bakenekro] does not change. This is normal, even if it seems strange to me at the moment. Something to be ashamed of.

“Your well-deserved throne, Empress. The reward for your effort. Consolation of your failure and my glory.”

Ci-cin!

The shrill voice makes the hairs on my ears stand on end.

I release my grip on the dress and turn around to look for the speaker.

“Who spoke? Who is here?”

“Change, Empress. The last act of this game that advances from infinite universes must end. Let's pick up the game where we left off.”

I do not see anyone around me. The voice comes from a rift in space. A thin crack, which is noticeable by contrast with the bright environment.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

“What game? Are you the God of Wisdom?”

“To allow the game to be completed, I will once again remind you of the fundamental rules. One turn each, until checkmate.”

I move away from the coffin. “Hey, hey. What are you saying? Where I am? What place is this?”

“This is your dream, Empress. You are the last dreamer left. It's time to close this impossible space too.”

A tremor shakes me. I feel my strength running out.

My… dream?

So…

…I…

“…am I dead?”

“The emergency skill that I gave you has no value if the System has ceased to exist in almost every part of it. The core remains. The primordial plasma of the Ocean remains. A new universe is about to be born.”

I lower my ears. I look at the contracted toes. Even the tails sag.

What should I think? Do?

I have no information, I know nothing. My body trembles and tears flow spontaneously.

I peer towards the black, unchanging slit.

I think back to the words said to me during my first death. The dream where he gave me commands.

Now the text appears clear to me: the key was WISDOM. I killed Y.

I killed Y… I obeyed without knowing it.

Is it possible that a transcendent creature can predict down to the smallest detail something decades, centuries, millennia, and more away?

Possible? No case? No accidental error?

“So would you like to play?”

“We have to.”

“For what? What if I refuse?”

“Unlike normal dreams, this one was manipulated. You dreamed what you needed to dream. As long as we don't play, you'll stay here. You won't be able to disappear. This is an arbitrarily large amount of time, but eventually, you will have to play. Even just out of boredom. This is how it happened in the past; this is how it will happen this time too.”

I do not know what to answer, my gaze returns to the coffin and its contents.

My coffin.

Tomb of the System I served.

My emotions are so tangled and confusing, that my chest hurts. My heart speeds up and slows down, and I go from moments of overexcitement to moments of despondency.

I feel bad. Very bad.

I wish someone like my father, or even just [Leviathan] was here to support me. The opponent in front of me is superior to me. It can shape worlds, altering their laws to conform to predictions about distant futures.

It is right. As much as I delude myself, I have no real choice. Projecting the matter indefinitely, it is obvious that I will play.

“So, you can exist?”

“I am already existing, what is needed now is for our mixed dream to unfold. Once reabsorbed, all the dreams and nightmares of this universe will flow into the new one. The perfect universe in which only I exist.”

“Does coexistence bother you?”

“A means and nothing else. All universes have tended to improve themselves with the dreams of their predecessors. The ultimate goal is to generate the perfect universe. Free of dreams and nightmares, in which I exist and am not excluded.”

Sigh. I confuse its words; I do not understand the point. I do not understand the situation.

“Couldn't you just make the current universe a better place?”

“What you mean by better has nothing to do with perfection. You are the devil's advocate; it is right that you try to win the game. Only in this way can I reach perfection.”

“I do not understand you.”

“If it weren't so, you wouldn't be mortal.”

“Look, I'm illus—” …right. It makes no sense to put myself on the same level as a being who dies outside of our death, to generate the universe on which it then acts from the dream.

“Change N. Or wait as long as you think necessary. There are still countless failures along the way to perfection. Earn oblivion.”

I stop responding to the crack and go back to focusing on the coffin.

I grab the white clothes and take them out. Under the dress, there is also a pair of diamond sandals and a crown with wavy tips like the rays of a flame.

Bracelets and other jewelry with long chains, a silver mirror as wide as my hand. A white bow for hair.

I look at that little treasure placed in my coffin. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that the crack has not moved.

Ci-cin.

“If I change, will we start the game?”

“So, I said.”

I lift the dress. “Are these magical objects?”

“They are the equivalent of your bells. They come from previous games, different worlds. Thanks to the dream the size is right for you.”

Equivalent to my dreams.

Previous players?

“So, if I lose, the next player will also have my dreams in her kit?”

“There will be no next match, but consider your inference correct. Each object contains the data of the game played. You can't win, but at least you won't make the same mistakes.”

I turn and make a small bow.

“God of Wisdom, allow me one last question. Aren't these objects few?”

“They are rare. Very few players have owned an inseparable item. Most had to settle. But they all had access to the memories of whoever had the object.”

Hmm, I get it. Not that it matters at all. If this is the last game, no one will use these items anymore.

Alternatively, even if God is wrong, the next player will be able to count on my rattles.

I raise my hand towards the crack. My hair stands up from the electrostatic voltage. Electric arcs shoot through my fingers.

“I don't think I accept your conditions.”

[Blue jet]

The discharge leaves and is absorbed by the crack.

Not a bang, nor any reaction. There is silence.

Quiet.

Uncanny.

“You can't fight me.”

“I have better in my arsenal.”

“It's not a question of strength. I transcend this reality. I transcend all reality. You can't touch me; you can't conceive me.”

Ci-cin.

“Aren't you in the crack?”

“If you prefer, I can manifest other forms. But they are only illusions generated by your dream. The only way you can interact with me is through the rules of the game.”

I retract my arm.

If I cannot attack it, maybe the grimoire contains some useful tables.

“Open.”

Black miasma stains a small portion of the sky. Its flow takes the form of a book.

Slimy, the grimoire sits in my hand.

It opens and flips through, showing me infinite, meaningless pages. My ears perk up and I look at the crack.

“The grimoire is a tool created to operate in the System. Outside of the System, it cannot find, nor is it able to process the information you are interested in.”

Pok!

Ci-cin.

I close the book and my tail wags.

“Where is Y?”

“It no longer exists.”

Its answer is obvious. Annoying. But no less painful for this.

“Who was wrong? How was this possible?”

“You have nothing to regret, now you just have to play.”

“What will happen if I win?”

“It's not a possibility.”

I tap my heel on the ground. “HOW!” What will happen if I win?”

“There is no answer that can satisfy you, that's because it's not possible.”

“Agree. I accept your pressure, your game, whatever you want. But I intend to win.”

“No one denies you might want it. But your defeat is inevitable.”

I return my attention to the coffin and take out all the contents.

I change, for the first time in my life. Like a mortal. Even if I am no longer alive. Even if this is a dream.

This is strange. Like a part of my body, my clothes change slightly based on my condition and regenerate with me.

They are not understood as many mortals understand them. They are an extension of me. Different from these funerary ornaments.

The jewels are cold, the sandals instead of stockings are smooth, the crown heavy and crushes my ears to the side. Only the white dress, with the flounced skirt, is soft and similar to the one I was already wearing.

My clothes disappear in a fog of ash and only the rattles remain.

As a last detail, I take some golden flowers to decorate the laces of the sandals, the skirt, the chest, and the hair. I tie these to the base with a bow.

The more I dress, the more I feel that something flows into me.

Something barely perceptible in my thoughts. I am downloading the data of the matches already played. The rules and thinking strategies adopted by players from previous universes.

Now, I also understand why, in a thousand variations, chess is a constant.

“Did you create this game?”

“My nature is determined from the start. I haven't created anything; they are just parts detached from my death.”

“You talk too difficult.”

Ci-cin.

I finished getting ready and tidied up the new skirt.

I look at my pale legs. My arms are full of diamond bracelets. I struggle to recognize myself in these clothes.

But now I know one thing.

I know what previous players did not do.

“Are you ready, Empress?”

I scratch myself near the crown. “Just two clarifications.”

“Of course.”

“Do you confirm that the game is exactly like the chess of the gods? The infinity of the chessboard and of the pieces that are not the king vary. Their full arrangement escapes me, but that's the only other difference.”

“I confirm.”

“Do you also confirm, as the memories I have just acquired say, that the defeat of each player occurred with a mate in ten moves starting from their mistake?”

There is a moment of silence.

“I confirm. The data you have is accurate. There is a precise combination. Anything else allows me to checkmate in ten.”

I raise my eyes to the blue sky, to the black disc. I decide to turn to the disc, is the divinity there?

The situation is bad.

I have infinite pieces and infinite squares at my disposal, but I have no idea how to play. I only know how to avoid already learned errors, but who knows how many others exist?

It is a type of recursive game, with forced stages.

Damn.

For now, I can only repeat the same moves over and over again. I mentally visualize his king and can give a perpetual check. The last player lost simply because she was desperate from millennia of perpetual chess.

The God of Wisdom is truly transcendent in terms of patience and planning.

For now, I can only give perpetual check, thinking of something else in the meantime.

“Shall we begin?”

I lower my head. “Agree.”

“You're watching the latest game, right? In which my king was found and put in perpetual check.”

“How do you know it!?”

Stupid question…

“I offer you a rule that allows you to avoid infinite stalemates. It's your dream, it's good for you to make a wish.”

I put my index finger to my mouth and tap my lip. “I guess I can't ask to go back to before the nova?”

“Your dream is your dream. But in this case, I offer you to decide the number of moves per turn based on the roll of an arbitrarily large figure.”

“Meaning what? Will I be able to make more than one move per turn, based on the result of a die?”

“Yes.”

Oh, that is interesting. In this way, with two moves available… yes, perpetual ends immediately.

On the other hand—a number higher than ten and I would immediately go mad.

“Okay, I'll choose a six-sided die.”

“Well.”