The Unintended Consequences of Victory
Could anyone reject the birth of a supernova? Of course, I wasn't forcing them to play Baduk. But no one could escape this place now. The board was already set.
The surroundings boiled with excitement. The lingering afterglow of the championship victory was brief; in an instant, the atmosphere shifted to the prelude of a "mega-match."
A rising star who had swept through the Elian Cup with unstoppable momentum had thrown down the gauntlet to the existing Ten Grandmasters, the absolute best players in the kingdom.
From the audience's perspective, watching me bow my head and receive tutelage from one of the Ten Grandmasters would have been a decent event. Instead, the new star had charged at the old guard, essentially declaring, "Father. I am succeeding the throne." A mildly interesting exhibition had transformed into a blood-soaked, legendary deathmatch.
Would any spectator refuse to watch this? Would even a single person say, "Um, excuse me, but I don't think this is right"? Highly unlikely.
"Waaaaaaah!"
"Whoaaaaaa!"
Roaring cheers erupted. Even though the ten Elders hadn't accepted the match yet, the crowd was already in a frenzy. No one could turn back this tide.
If they refused right here and now? If they turned their heads and muttered something like, "We don't have the time"? It would look exactly as I said—like they were running away out of fear of losing.
It was a disgrace that these dwarfs, with their noble pride, could never endure.
I could see the Elders' faces practically twitching with the urge to give me a harsh lesson. Yet, exercising patience until the very end, they looked to someone for cues. The Elder Dwarf standing in the center opened his mouth in response to the other Elders' gazes.
"Let us see your skills."
His words were brief, but they carried a clear expression of acceptance.
"We shall see who is mistaken."
He took his seat.
Screeech—
With a collective scraping of chairs, all ten sat down at once. The gong-striker at the side of the stage quickly took the cue and struck the gong.
Gooooong—
As if announcing the start of the battle.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Stones were placed onto ten Baduk boards one after another. The signal that the match had officially begun.
This was no ordinary match. A one-versus-ten showdown. An unprecedented form of play. It meant a single person was fighting on ten battlefields simultaneously.
No matter how genius one's intuition for Baduk was, defeating one or two opponents in this setup was usually the absolute limit. A once-in-a-century genius might defeat them all if they played them one by one in a tournament. But not like this.
There was only one condition. Ten minutes, given equally to everyone.
But there was a trap in the word "equal." The moment an opponent placed a stone, my timer would immediately start ticking. Ten boards. Ten opponents. In reality, the actual time I could use was barely over a minute.
On top of that, these were all Elder Dwarfs. And among Elder Dwarfs, they were individuals who had been hailed as prodigies and geniuses since childhood. Intuition that could foresee thousands of moves. Creativity that transcended established joseki. These were people who had risen to the rank of "Elder" solely through sheer skill.
Rapid play was second nature to them. Against such opponents, I had to spend less than a second per move while calculating the state of every single board.
By all accounts, the match was heavily stacked against me. That was why their faces already brimmed with confidence. They looked completely at ease.
However, those relaxed expressions began to crumble bit by bit as time passed.
Clack.
The moment an opponent placed a stone.
Clack.
In less than a tenth of a second, I immediately responded.
Clack. Clack.
The sounds of stones hitting the boards echoed almost simultaneously. Every single game progressed without a single hitch.
The Elder considered the weakest among them bowed his head in silence.
"I resign."
123 moves.
At first, the spectators thought of it as merely a commendable effort by a rising star. No one actually expected the newcomer to defeat all the Elders. But this was only the beginning.
Clack— 132 moves.
Clack— 142 moves.
Clack— 154 moves.
One after another, the Elders fell. Their faces, once held high by pride, stiffened in succession. Anyone who knew even a little about Baduk understood how utterly absurd this result was.
164. 172. 182.
By this point, the atmosphere had completely transformed. *A monster.* The crowd looked at me as if they were beholding something beyond comprehension. Yet, in their eyes, there was not just fear, but also a strange sense of anticipation.
Ten games. Remembering every single move. Reading every flow. Calculating every possibility. A single individual doing it all. Because they could not comprehend it, he felt all the more overwhelmingly transcendent.
An all-clear. The rising star was now just one step away. The battlefield had narrowed down to a duel between just two people.
253 moves. The last man standing. The white-bearded Elder Dwarf.
Now, I understood why the other Elders had seated him in the center, and why they treated him like their representative. The ethos of this tournament was, after all, a place where status was determined solely by skill. They hadn't shown him respect simply because he was old.
The old man's Baduk was close to perfection. His tactical skirmishes were exquisite, and his reading of the board was profound. Even Jiri had gasped in admiration.
[Is this human... wait, is this dwarf actually a functioning clump of organic matter? Well, even so.]
Clack.
The outcome was clear. My timer hadn't changed much from the start. Since I had played against ten people simultaneously without a single moment of hesitation. 7 minutes and 21 seconds. Conversely, the old man's clock read 1 minute and 2 seconds.
Clack. Clack.
My stones were placed. His hand, which had been responding within seconds, gradually slowed down, and then...
Clack.
It stopped completely.
For a long while, holding a stone in his hand, he kept his head lowered.
"...I have lost."
A victory that left no room for denial. After keeping his eyes closed for a moment, the old man smiled gently.
"Sarne."
The white-bearded old man called out to her.
"You said earlier that it wasn't a heresy... You were not wrong."
"...!"
Sarne's eyes widened. He looked at her and continued.
"The one who was closed-minded was me. Baduk should never be bound by rigid forms. I created my own style of Baduk because I hated that very constraint... yet in the end, I had become the exact kind of adult I despised most in my youth."
"No, that's not true...! G-Grandfather...!"
"Heheh. You have grown so much, Sarne."
He gently reached out, and Sarne, her face flushed with emotion, threw herself into his embrace.
Watching their embrace, I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Thank goodness things had wrapped up nicely.
"The winner! Making his debut in the Elian Cup! The rising powerhouse who seized the championship with an undefeated streak, the new supernova!"
"The man who proved his absolute might by defeating all of the Ten Grandmasters! Cai-mu-mu-mu-mu! Do-yooouuu-neeeesss!"
The announcer's shout reverberated. At that moment, the plaza was swallowed by an explosion of cheers.
"Waaaaaaah! Doyunes! Doyunes!"
My ears rang from the noise.
The day after the match.
Sarne headed toward Doyunes's mansion with light, excited steps. Since the Elian Cup, her relationship with her grandfather had been restored, and she had finally gained the recognition she had yearned for so desperately.
"My eyes were sharper than your grandfather's."
"You have talent, Sarne."
Those words kept echoing in her mind. *Hehehehe.* Skipping lightly up the stairs, she asked a servant.
"Is Doyunes in his office?"
"Lady Sarne? Yes, the Prophet is... but—"
"It's fine! I'll be quick!"
Cutting the servant off, she flung the office door wide open.
"Hey, Doyun—es! I came up with an absolutely brilliant move today! So, let's play a... huh...?"
There were two men inside. One was Doyunes. And sitting opposite him was a very familiar figure. One of the Ten Grandmasters. To Sarne, he was her maternal uncle.
"...Uncle?"
"Ah, Sarne. You're here."
"...What are you doing here, Uncle?"
"More importantly, Sarne. My eyes were truly opened that day. To think you had grown into such a splendid young lady... and here I was, foolishly telling you that you were 'still lacking.' Your uncle is truly sorry."
Doyunes watched us and nodded with a warm, pleased expression.
"Your uncle is a bit busy right now, so let's catch up and have a good talk later."
"Uh... yes, Uncle."
It's fine. I can just play with him next time.
The next day.
"Doyunes! ...Huh?"
"Sarne?"
"Uh... Aunt?"
"It's always so wonderful to see you so energetic, Sarne. Yes, children should run around and play. My goodness, when did you grow up so much...?"
"Ehehe. Thank you."
Ah—by the time she snapped out of it, the door was already closed.
The day after that.
"Doyunes!!!"
"...Sarne?"
A familiar, far too familiar voice.
"Uncle?"
"What a booming voice! Bwahahaha! Indeed, a true leader must have a powerful voice! I heard you were put in charge of the Third Army. Congratulations, I'm so glad your father finally recognized your hard work."
"Ehehe... it's not that big of a deal..."
Ah—only after the door clicked shut did Sarne realize. *Déjà vu.* Every time she went to see Doyunes, her relatives put her on a pedestal. And by the time she came to her senses, the door was already closed.
So, this time, she made up her mind. No matter what they said, she would brush them aside. With a resolute, deadpan expression, she threw open the door—only for her fiercely raised eyebrows to instantly droop.
"...G-Grandfather?"
"...Ah, Sarne, you're here? It feels like only yesterday you were a tiny child..."
No. No, no, no. No blessings or sweet talk allowed—
Absolutely not. Even if it was her grandfather. Sarne stared straight ahead with unwavering determination.
"Grandfather! Today is the day Doyunes and I are supposed to play Baduk."
Her lips were set in a stubborn line. Seeing this, her grandfather spoke slowly.
"Ah, of course. It would be terrible for a grandfather to steal his precious granddaughter's time."
It worked.
"By the way, Sarne?"
"Yes?"
"It was your birthday recently, wasn't it? Let's see, you must be thirteen now..."
"Wha-wha-wha-whaaaaaa?!"
"So, thirteen..."
"Aaaah! No! Noooo!"
Doyunes was staring at her with a bizarre look. Her face grew redder by the second.
"G-Grandfather!!!"
"Did you call me, Sarne?"
"I... I think it would be much better if you and Doyunes played Baduk today."
"Is that so?"
"I-I have some urgent business to attend to, so I'll be going now!"
Screeech—click.
Closing the door behind her, Sarne slid down against the wall and collapsed to the floor. She bit down hard on her handkerchief.
Suddenly, she remembered the finals. The moment when the Ten Grandmasters had Doyunes cornered. A wave of deep regret washed over her. *I should have just agreed that his style was a heresy.*
She should have sided with the Ten Grandmasters, shouting, "Doyunes's moves are just reckless gambles that defy all joseki!" and pushed him into a corner.
Stupid mouth.
As she tapped her own lips in frustration, the sound of Doyunes and her grandfather laughing together drifted through the crack of the door.
"...I didn't want things to turn out *this* well."