"Congratulations to Leumas, the winner of the seventh annual Gol Founding Chess Tournament!" an enthusiastic commentator announced to the players still allowed in the arena. "At the orders of His Majesty the King and his loyal advisor, Millo, the ten greatest chess players are to receive 10,000 spirit stones divided by their ranks. Please, ascend the platform to receive your well-deserved rewards."
A lone table was standing in the center of the stage, surrounded by eight chairs hosting old, wizened men. Over the table were two people locked in a handshake—one emotionless, and the other awkward. In opposition to the fossils surrounding their position, they were young, one male and one female. The female refused to let the male's hand go, utilizing all her strength to restrain him. Due to their lack of movement and the world’s hierarchy, all the old men remained seated. The superior players must take the lead; until then, they won’t move a muscle. This was a matter of face.
The overly rowdy crowd calmed significantly as time passed. The stifling atmosphere created by the first and second-ranked players slowly began to dampen their initially joyous mood. The commentator’s forehead became covered in beads of sweat, seeing the young lady’s bone-chilling gaze, which did not waver from the man in front of her. He lacked the authority to force them to move but was also too scared to rush them. Or more specifically her. She is not someone he could offend.
The tension continued building some more, until a masculine voice finally released the crowd from the choke-hold of awkwardness. “Good game?” Leumas said, unaware of why this lady was giving him the death stare. Instead of a response, however, all he received was confusion and shock added to her unrelenting gaze. Did he say something wrong? Was it not a good game? He remained fully ignorant of the violent discrepancy between his appearance and voice. A fragile doll-looking man speaking similar to hardened warriors is not an everyday occurrence after all. It was bound to stun the recipients the first time around.
Recollecting her bearings, the lady finally overcame her anger, annoyance, and later shock, to voice her first words of the evening. “Admit you cheated.” A chill consumed everyone present, as the voice was ladened with killing intent. The words themselves were accusatory and negative, with the addition of the young lady’s fury, it only furthered the negative atmosphere. Worst of all was the power radiating from her throughout the entire spectacle; she was obviously trying to intimidate her victor.
Leumas was taken aback, not expecting the stoic lady, who had kept to herself for most of the tournament, to be so cold. “Not to be rude or anything, but you are not an opponent I would struggle to defeat. Calling me a cheater only highlights your poor sportsmanship. Who would have thought you to be such a sore loser?” Tuning out the whining opponent, Leumas turned his focus elsewhere—the rewards. 10,000 spirit stones were quite the enormous sum. Or so he hoped.
Blissfully unaware of his surroundings, Leumas descended the circular stage and walked towards the "platform." Calling it a platform was a tad funny, as it was just a podium consisting of ten steps. It was colored black and white in correspondence to the game of chess, but it also screamed of yin-yang inspiration. He slowly ascended the steps, taking his rightful place on the central step, much to the dismay of the lady, who lost some of her harshness, having it replaced with sadness.
Since the man of the evening and winner was ready to receive his rewards, the remaining participants—including the lady—proceeded to ascend the podium themselves. Once everyone was in their respective positions, the crowd once again felt free to celebrate and began to clap. The cheers soon shook the surroundings. If you suppress something, it won’t disappear; rather, it will merely resurface in a stronger fashion. Amidst the roaring happiness of the spectators liberated from a certain pretentious and sore loser, emerged a man.
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This man was dressed in an overly baggy robe, adorned with nothing but a badge pinned under his left shoulder. His black and gray hair was tied in a respectable man-bun by a scarlet zan, while his expression was calm, calculative, yet kind. Overall, he looked like the teacher everyone liked in school. Intelligent, yet kind. Imposing, but only towards those who deserve it. This man was the spitting image of justice.
Held in his hands was a chest, engraved with the royal crest of the country of Gol, and its ancestor beast—the qilin. There was no energy emitted by the chest, but upon further scrutiny, one would discover a concealment formation, reducing its conspicuousness. However, only two in the vicinity were capable of unveiling this, its carrier and Leumas. The former was naturally aware, and the latter simply did not care.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you who could be more eligible to present the rewards of this esteemed tournament, than the greatest chess player on the continent—no, in the world? Everyone, please welcome the True King of Chess, the royal advisor to His Majesty the King, Millo!” The commentator’s announcement forced the crowd out of their manic cheering, into an even more frenzied one. They were all chess enthusiasts, with most adoring and idolizing the middle-aged man carrying a large chest.
Expressions of love and support rained down on the calm man, who seemed unperturbed by the cheers and support, much to the envy of the forgotten winner. “What was so special about this old geezer anyway? Where are all my cheers? I don’t remember him slaving away at the board for days, so give me some appreciation, please?” Leumas worked so hard only to be thrown into the cold, harsh reality of abandonment the moment someone of more renown entered the scene. It was unfair!
Almost as if he heard his inner monologue, the man directed his attention to Leumas, slightly startling him. A broad smile soon appeared on his handsome face as he inched ever closer. For some reason, the change was eerie. The kind teacher suddenly became scary in Leumas’ eyes, almost as if he’d force him to do something against his wishes. His worries, however, were probably unfounded, as Millo began the awarding ceremony.
“Congratulations to you, grandmasters, for triumphing in this arduous evolution of thought we call chess. I have observed you all thoroughly and am truly impressed with the skills showcased this year. As such, I convinced the King to increase your rewards. You will all receive the promised spirit stones but are also invited to spectate the Tournament of Seeds with me and His Highness himself, in the royal booth. Not only that, but due to the bountiful year Gol has experienced, you shall also be allowed one item from the royal coffers together with the Seed winners. There are a myriad of items there beneficial to your craft, and I truly hope your skills can continue to improve beyond the known limits. Anyway, enough of my ramblings. Wu Mu, rank ten, you are to receive 1,000 spirit stones. Leonard Stolin, rank nine, you are to receive 1,110 spirit stones. Mignop Bowla, rank eight, you are to receive 1,250 spirit stones… Isabelle, rank two, you are to receive 5,000 spirit stones. And finally, our dear winner, Leumas, you are to receive 10,000 spirit stones. Congratulations to you all, and I hope you spend the rewards wisely.”
After announcing each participant's respective rewards, Millo opened the royal chest he was carrying, showcasing the storage rings inside. Each was labeled with a number from one to ten, clearly representing the different ranks. Millo, through telekinesis, handed everyone their rings in ascending order, ending with the winner, who for some reason appeared mortified. Millo, ever the sharp advisor, noticed this irregularity, confusing him greatly. Was this the reaction someone who just won an astronomical amount of capital should have?