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Complex of Time
Yet Another Enemy?

Yet Another Enemy?

“Is something the matter, Leumas? You appear shaken,” Millo appeared concerned at the winner’s well-being. Never had he seen such an expression on someone who had received a great boon for their prestigious achievement. Normally, even the most calculative and cunning masters would tremble slightly in the face of overwhelming wealth. Ten thousand spirit stones is enough to buy an entire city, yet Leumas looks sad. Depressed, even.

“Perhaps he feels lonely at the top?” Millo thought to himself at Leumas’ lack of answer. “I wonder how he’s going to handle the mandatory interview.”

The overwhelming amount of noise and stares directed at Leumas were unable to awake him from his reverie. That is until chills surged down his spine. A particular fan of his became curious, forcing Leumas to react, lest he’d be punished again. However, it was a debatable topic whether the torture would be worse than watching the tournament. “Do I actually have to go?” he thought to himself.

The commentator who ignorantly waited behind the podium erupted with a joyous announcement. “In the spirit of honoring and furthering the craft of chess, the mandatory interview of the winner will commence shortly. Everyone who’s interested, proceed towards the garden!”

Without waiting for the winner himself to move, nearly the entire crowd rushed towards this so-called garden. A massive stampede was the consequence. Had the guests not been cultivators, there’d most likely be casualties already. The podium participants looked towards Leumas, before they too followed the crowd’s direction, albeit from a different exit. This left the commentator, Isabelle, Millo, and the Prince of Chess, which he would come to be known.

A perturbing silence between the quad consumed the arena once again. The over-energized commentator, who was ignorant to everything but chess and status, quickly excused himself after finding both Millo and Isabelle staring at him. If they asked him to lick their shoes, he would. Although Millo is of a just character, his followers were overprotective. If someone discovered his transgression, there would be no room left for him in Gol.

After the elephant in the room left, an even mightier beast revealed itself. The young lady, Isabelle, who Leumas thought realized the error in her ways, resumed her glaring at him. Similar to a kitten glaring at a divine tiger, she was far below him in stature and might, but his instincts as a man informed him of the potential dangers of crossing her. For his love of all that is holy, Leumas could not understand why she was reacting this way. Not only did he not cheat, he even went easy on her. This little girl could barely compare to him in the opening, because he made haphazard decisions. Afterward, it was a slaughter. She made five good moves the entire game, how dare she label him a cheater?

“Um, do you need something? Advice, perhaps? No…?” Leumas’ poor attempt at breaching the silence was directly ignored by Isabelle, who only increased the squint in her eyes. Millo, however, was quick to notice the animosity harbored by his apprentice. That’s right; Isabelle is Millo’s chess apprentice. As such, he was more than aware of what she was currently thinking.

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“Cut it out, young lady. Who’d ever want to marry you with this type of personality? The princess of a kingdom needs to know proper etiquette! This young man bested you fair and square, yet you threw a fit. It’s embarrassing. If I were to let your father know, then perhaps you might be forced to enter the Cherry Blossom Sect after all.”

“No, teacher, I was wrong; please don’t tell my father!” The iced beauty’s demeanor melted instantaneously upon being threatened by the royal advisor. The change was much too drastic and rapid for Leumas to comprehend. Caught off guard, he was left standing slack-mouthed at the wondrous nature of power. Power could bend everyone and thing to its will, even this ignorant miscreant. Perhaps he should exert himself some more… no! That is not the way of justice. He, Samuel—couch—Leumas, would never resort to such misdeeds. Again that is.

“Young man, I would like to discuss a great deal with you after this event finishes. Would you be interested in this? I know we’re attending the tournament together, but such public and formal occasions are hardly the time—nor place—to adventure the depths of our knowledge. After completing the interview, carriages will arrive to carry us to the arena. If you agree, you can ride in our personal carriage, if not, your seat will of course be guaranteed in the others. So, what say you?”

Millo was incredibly excited at the prospect of meeting a fellow chess prodigy. For too long has his opposition been lackluster, but that may all change now. This youth, Leumas, was fooling around with the other chess grandmasters he played, including his apprentice. His talent was staggering, and age impressive. Millo himself was nearing the age of three hundred, yet someone still wet from the womb could compare to him. The mere thought made him giddy.

“As an old man, this royal advisor should not be acting this way, right? Leave this behavior to teenage girls. I also don’t want to attend the tournament, much less discuss the art of chess with this geezer. But it would be rude not to, and I can sense that damn pervert’s intent; he clearly wants me to go. I swear, I would rather gamble on an escape than follow all his wishes. Alas, I’m a pushover in the face of overwhelming power.”

Mustering his courage, tightening his flawless, over-pampered face, Leumas finally expressed his agreement with utmost sincerity. He did not appear constipated whatsoever.

“I would greatly... enjoy such an exchange, Mister Millo.”

“That’s fabulous! I simply cannot wait; you should complete the interview with haste. Come, come, let me show you the way.”

The old man’s kind face released the most brilliant smile Leumas had ever seen. Akin to a blooming flower, his stern and calculative nature vanished, leaving a superior being. A being of pure joy and happiness. With near skips in his steps, Millo dragged Leumas by his baggy sleeves toward a side door, which he unlocked with the badge on his left chest. It was apparent that despite his fantastic mood, he knew the consequences of not upholding his persona in public settings. However, there was something he completely forgot. Or rather, someone.

Isabelle was left standing in the soulless arena, befuddled from the clear differential treatment. She, Millo’s apprentice, only ever received reprimands and lectures, while this lousy, good-for-nothing cheater received the warmth of a master. That warmth was meant for her! How did this feminine cretin deserve such treatment? The tidal wave of rage that slightly subsided erupted like a tsunami as similar thoughts erupted in her mind.

“Fine, have it your way! I’ll show you the consequences of your actions.”

With that vow of revenge, she too left the area. She wouldn't be caught dead attending that strawman’s interview. She thus proceeded to contact her personal carriage driver, ready to leave at the soonest convenience. The earlier she left, the more time she would have to plan—and enact—her devious plot.