PACIFISM

Leonel grinned as the Go board disappeared. It seemed that Old Bastian had a bit of a temper, though that much should have been obvious after their first interaction.

Truthfully, he was a little embarrassed. The reality was that he planned on giving Leonel a chance even if he lost. That was because he couldn't even remember the last time he lost in a game of Portal. Winning or losing didn't necessarily mean that Leonel was inferior to him, he was just making things a bit difficult on Leonel on purpose.

The reason for this was because the most important aspect of the game, the portals themselves, were meant to be created at random. The issue was that there was no one skilled enough to make them. The game was extraordinarily complex.

As such, usually when you wanted to play with a new person, you would have to buy a board from the Dream Pavilion exchange. Most, though, would have dedicated boards that they used with certain people so that they could maintain a level of fairness.

Every board had a random assortment of portals, and these portals would change and morph over time depending on the moves made, keeping the game fresh. In fact, the number of variations were so numerous that if you only ever planned to play with just one person, you would likely never need to buy another.

This was where Old Bastian's sneakiness came into play. He had several dedicated boards, but this one in particular was the one he always used to play a different number of wide ranging opponents.

Because it had seen several play styles over the years, it was somewhere in the middle-that meaning that Old Bastian was somewhat familiar with its portals, but not to the extent he would have been had he played the same person again and again.

This was all to say that from the beginning, Leonel was playing with a handicap, and yet Old Bastian still lost. It was only right that he was a bit peeved and embarrassed.

Even so, Leonel found it quite adorable. He didn't have much interaction with his own grandfather, but he liked to imagine that Gervaise wouldn't be too dissimilar to this in the event that he lost. Though, it was also difficult for Leonel to imagine that man losing in the first place.

At that moment, there was a sudden tremble and a letter of challenge, wreathed in silvery white fog appeared before Old Bastian.

This was honestly the worst timing. He was already pissed off, and seeing this he almost shattered it with a palm.

The challenge was, unsurprisingly, from the Khafra Bubble. Their intention was clearly to rise back to the top 300, and then hopefully the top 200 soon afterward in a bid to "pay back" Leonel and Aina for their carnage.

What they didn't know was that Leonel was already waiting for them here, ready to slap them back down with a single palm.

He really wanted to see where they would pivot after Patriarch Khafra was dead.

When Old Bastian settled down, though, his gaze couldn't help but flash like lightning. He looked at Leonel as though he could see right through him.

Leonel chuckled and put a finger to his lips, urging Old Bastian to keep quiet.

It only made sense that the old man would figure it out. Even if he couldn't see the whole picture, he was still a Dream Force master. Was it really a coincidence? Who else could this young man be if not him?

"Alright, let's go. We have a challenge to prepare for. How many did they ask to participate?"

"... Two," Old Bastian said softly.

"I see. In that case, my wife and I will enter."

"Hm?" Old Bastian frowned. He wouldn't even get to enter? It was impossible for him to trust Leonel to this extent.

"I can't allow any mistakes and the margins this time will likely be smaller. We need to make sure that we bring out the team with the highest percentage chance of winning."

Old Bastian's frown deepened. Could it really be that even this boy's wife was stronger than him in the aspect of Dream Force? What had he lived all these years for?

Leonel had already expected for them to go with two. Not only would it limit the variables further, they would be able to draw attention to Little Fox's death all the more so. To these people, every one of their actions was meticulously chosen so that they could maximize their benefits.

And this was the game Leonel liked to play the most.

"Don't stop trusting me at the most crucial point, old man. If you're going to bet, don't half ass it. Go all in."

"... You're definitely going to pull my Dwarven Race into a war, aren't you?"

Leonel's smile didn't fade, but he had to admit that this man was sharp. Instead of answering directly, he swiped a hand over his face and suddenly, he looked exactly like Aerin. There wasn't even a single strand of hair that was out of place.

"Does this answer your question?"

Old Bastian's heart trembled. If Leonel really did something wild while using Aerin's face, just what kind of storm would that cause?

"Alright, into the Segmented Cube you go, Aerin."

Aerin could only watch as Leonel clasped a hand over his shoulder. Looking into his own face was surreal, but frightening at the same time. He already understood exactly what Leonel wanted to do. © 2024.

Once Aerin was gone, Leonel looked right into Old Bastian's eyes, trying to read him.

"When you do things, you have to do them thoroughly. There are enemies knocking on your Dwarven Race's door as we speak, they're pressuring you to hand over treasures your prince fought for, they already tried to kill that very prince once before and they'll do it again.

"Pacifism won't help you, it will only hinder you. Now isn't the time to cower."