I leaned forward with a persuasive yet casual tone. "Joe, let’s be honest—the chance to even catch a glimpse of something like Excalibur? That alone should make this gamble worth it, right?”
Joe’s gaze shifted, intrigued, and he murmured, “That… is indeed the case.” With a slight nod, he agreed, sealing our deal. “Let’s play.”
Black vacated his seat, leaving it open for me, and as I sat down, I accidentally brushed the pieces, sending a few toppling. I smiled sheepishly, “Oops, my bad.” I carefully propped each piece, subtly grazing every one with my fingers as I planted Soul Marks on each. Joe’s brows drew together; he probably noticed my little maneuver, but he didn’t comment. After all, I knew he’d likely use every tool in his own arsenal.
“To keep things fair, how about we agree on a touch-move rule?” I proposed, adding one final condition.
Joe’s smirk returned. “Agreed.”
In the world of hunters, chess wasn’t just a game of intellect—it was an unspoken battleground where bending the rules was almost a rule itself. Cheating was an open secret, a tool wielded as skillfully as any move on the board. Here, manipulation, foresight, and subtlety were valued as highly as any calculated strategy.
Joe’s intense gaze and the occasional twitch in his fingers told me he wasn’t here to play fair. And, frankly, neither was I. We were both well aware that the stakes here were more than just a simple game, and that we’d each be pushing the limits of what could be considered “sportsmanship.” This wasn’t a match of honor; it was a test of who could outmaneuver the other, not only on the board but in every move outside it.
I couldn’t help but smile.
This was as good a practice as any.
With a confident toss, I handed the coin over to Dummy, calling, "Man."
He flipped it, and sure enough, it landed on "man." I smiled and announced, "I’ll take white." The game began with a simple, seemingly innocent opening move: E2 to E4.
Only four moves later, Joe was in checkmate.
Joe blinked in disbelief, slowly rising from his seat, visibly unsettled. “What did you just do?” he demanded, staring at the board, unable to make sense of his loss.
I let out a laugh, enjoying the disbelief on his face. “Now, why would I go and give away my secret?” I said with a sly grin. Sensing an opportunity to up the stakes, I leaned forward and casually proposed, “Tell you what—let’s make it interesting. You know, give you a second chance, lots of second chances. If you manage to win just once, all the favors you owe me are void. But if you lose again, I’ll add one more favor to that list.”
Joe hesitated, brow furrowed, clearly torn. “So... I get multiple tries?” he clarified, the fire of competition starting to light up in his eyes.
I raised an eyebrow and, with a bit of a smirk, taunted him. “What’s wrong? Afraid? Never thought a once-fearsome pirate would back down from a rookie like me.”
That did it. Joe gritted his teeth and sat back down. “Fine,” he muttered, leaning in with determination.
This time, I took black, allowing him the opening advantage. Joe wasn't playing around now; his aura flickered subtly as he focused, and I could feel him methodically dispelling the Soul Marks I’d left on the pieces. Before we started, he even pulled out a small vial, swallowing a pill before slipping two rings onto his fingers. Whatever boost they gave him, he was prepared to use everything in his arsenal.
And so, the game began anew.
Joe’s made his first move.
I turned to Dummy and asked, “Dummy, if you let me borrow your aura for the rest of the match, I’ll give you one of the semi-finished Maker products I won.”
Dummy’s eyes lit up at the offer, and he deliberated for only a second before nodding. “Deal,” he said eagerly, and I handed him the ring. As I brushed my hand against him, I connected with his aura, subtly picking up on an attribute I hadn’t expected—something literally called Retardation, designed to subtly distort cognition and slow brain activity. Not bad at all.
I worked the attribute into my own aura, sending out a faint wave toward Joe, who looked oblivious to the effect creeping over him. He made his next move but seemed slightly off, his focus faltering here and there.
A few rounds later, Joe found himself in checkmate once more. He stared at the board in utter frustration, fists clenched. I leaned back with a smirk. “That’s four favors now, Joe,” I teased.
His face flushed as he tried to compose himself, his pride clearly bruised.
The game pressed on, but Joe had the spirit of a gambler who simply didn’t know when to walk away. Each loss only seemed to fuel his determination, as if the next game would finally be the one where he’d make his comeback. By his sixth loss, he’d figured out how to block the Retardation attribute I was borrowing from Dummy, setting up a defense that neutralized its effects. But by then, he was already knee-deep in owed favors.
Not one to give up an advantage, I pivoted to a new strategy. Combining my puppetry attribute with my connection attribute, I subtly nudged his pieces just enough to throw off his moves, shifting them in ways that were too minor to notice but fatal for his positioning. Joe was still busy focusing on countering the Retardation effect, so my new tactic slid under his radar. His confusion grew as each turn ended with his pieces falling exactly where he didn’t want them.
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Finally, after several more brutal losses, he seemed to snap to reality. Realizing he was only digging himself deeper, he groaned, cussed, and shoved back his chair. “Damn it all,” he muttered, standing up in defeat. He shot a final glare at the board, then at me, before storming off, muttering more curses under his breath.
I watched him go, amused, with eleven favors now safely in my pocket.
I stretched and stifled a yawn. It was already late, and the ambient sounds of the airship were quieting as most of the passengers and staff retired for the night. Black, still seated at the chess table, gave me a long, scrutinizing look.
“I get how you won the later matches,” he admitted, “but that first one? I don’t see it.” He was still puzzling over the rapid, four-move victory that had thrown Joe into a frenzy.
I simply smirked and shrugged. “A mystery for another time,” I replied evasively, rising from my seat and leaving him to contemplate.
As I walked down the empty corridor, a thrill ran through me, replaying the hidden mechanism behind that first victory. The truth? Aura sabotage. That first match was one-sided because, with a light touch, I’d been able to alter Joe’s aura just enough to steer him astray. Subtle enough to slip under even a veteran like him, it was a core aspect of my ability that I seldom revealed. By borrowing another’s aura, then returning it, I retained a thin connection—a barely detectable thread through which I could influence them subconsciously. Not total control, but small suggestions here and there. Enough to disrupt, to disorient, to make them miscalculate.
The real beauty was its near invisibility. Affecting someone’s aura from within their own subconscious was almost impossible to detect, like a mental fingerprint they didn’t realize was there. I could make their aura slip out of sync or even go berserk if I chose… though it was a hassle. But tonight, a little nudge here and there had been all I needed.
Just as I was nearing my quarters, I collided with someone in the hallway. A familiar figure with scruffy hair and a goofy grin stood before me: Geoffrey, looking as far from his usual self as possible. He wore a loud, Hawaiian-style shirt with a mix of neon flowers splashed across it, paired with some slightly worn beach shorts he must have picked up at Kaliya Beach Resort. The sight alone was enough to make me hesitate.
Geoffrey gave me a grin and leaned in conspiratorially. “Heard you’re a betting man, eh?” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How about a little game with yours truly?”
I glanced past him, intent on avoiding whatever he was trying to rope me into. “Not interested, Geoffrey. Move aside.”
He shifted, blocking my path with a casual stretch. “Aw, come on. Just hear me out!”
I narrowed my eyes, suppressing the impatience bubbling up. “Geoffrey, I’m giving you one last chance to move,” I said, my tone laced with warning, “or you will be moved.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender, but that mischievous grin stayed. “Easy, easy! Just listen for a second!” he pleaded, taking a step back with a chuckle. “You won’t regret it.”
I felt an instant wave of irritation wash over me as I looked at Geoffrey, standing there in that obnoxious shirt, grinning like he had just solved some great mystery of the universe. I didn’t trust him, and frankly, I didn’t like him. He’d always seemed the kind of guy who’d play the clown to mask ulterior motives, and I had little patience for people like that… well, with a few exceptions… but it wasn’t Geoffrey.
Still, since he insisted on blocking my path, I figured I might as well listen. But if this turned out to be some ridiculous attempt at a joke, I wouldn’t hesitate to make him regret it. It wasn’t like the airship had any no-kill rules in place.
Geoffrey winced, reading my expression a little too well. “Ooof, so much killing intent... chill down, man,” he said, chuckling nervously, though his grin didn’t waver.
I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of bet are you proposing, then?”
“Simple,” he said, straightening up with a casual shrug. “We take guesses on the theme for the next test. The closer you are, the more points you get for accuracy.”
I frowned, trying to keep my reaction in check. This wasn’t just some ridiculous idea—he had to know something, something that hadn’t been shared. That meant Geoffrey, annoying as he was, had information I didn’t. And that was worth listening to.
I crossed my arms, assessing Geoffrey’s proposal with a critical eye. He leaned in slightly, his grin widening, sensing I was at least intrigued.
“What’s the wager?” I asked.
“Information for information,” he replied smoothly, as if he’d already anticipated my question.
I felt my interest cool. “Not interested.”
Geoffrey chuckled, unbothered. “Oh, but I think you will be.” He leaned in a little closer, eyes gleaming. “It’s about the Elsewhere Cult.”
My expression hardened as I weighed my words. “What information are you looking for in exchange? And if this is really about the Elsewhere Cult, why don’t we just trade?”
Geoffrey leaned back with a sly smile as if savoring this moment. “Because, my friend, the information is worth a lot more if I hold on to it. Besides, I wouldn’t mind selling it to you later… after you lose.”
His arrogance grated on me, but he’d managed to bait my curiosity well enough. With stakes like these, he knew I wouldn’t back down easily.
I raised an eyebrow and asked, "So, why not just let me pay you double the information? I’d owe you a favor, too.”
Geoffrey shook his head, that infuriating grin never faltering. “While the offer is… tempting,” he replied, “I’m doing this for the thrill of it. It’s just more fun to bet.”
“Fine,” I said, cutting to the point. “What do you want?”
His eyes gleamed with a sudden intensity. “The location of Excalibur.”
For a moment, I just stared, and then I burst into laughter. Geoffrey stood there, watching in silence as I laughed harder and harder until my sides ached.
But the look on his face didn’t change.
It hit me then—he was dead serious. This bastard had the gall to demand something like that, as if he actually believed he’d get it. I chuckled, forcing myself to calm down, but my disbelief was all over my face.
“You really think I’d give up something like that?” I said, looking him up and down, sizing him up again. But the grin remained plastered on his face, irritatingly steady, like he’d just confirmed some suspicion he’d had all along.
I gave Geoffrey a hard look, searching for any sign of hesitation, but he held firm. "Fine," I said, my voice laced with resolve. "I’ll humor you and play your game. But we’re doing this right—the judge will be the airship captain.”
Geoffrey shook his head with a sly smirk pulling at his lips. “Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t trust the captain,” he replied smoothly. “I happen to know he owes you a few favors.” He let that sit between us for a moment, and then added, “Let’s have it locked up. We’ll put our guesses in a metal box, and it’ll be handed to a third party, someone neither of us has any ties to. We’ll open it after the exam, fair and square.”
I narrowed my eyes, mulling over his suggestion. He had anticipated every loophole I might have tried to exploit. I liked it less with every second, but there was no turning back. Besides, if he had something that valuable to offer, he’d have to put up or shut up.
“Deal,” I finally agreed.
Geoffrey’s hand shot forward, and we shook on it, the tension thick between us.