The Checkmate Gambit
The exhibition hall was alive. It felt almost like the people themselves had transformed. Just taking off her glasses and letting her hair down had completely changed Aurora's impression to that extent. The space itself seemed to converge around her. She alone shone vibrantly amid the black-and-white photo, violently seizing the very concept of attention with her mere presence.
Elduin, facing her, froze in place for a moment. Bewilderment bloomed in his sharp eyes, and no sound escaped the mouth he'd opened to speak.
"Uh.... um.... th-that...."
The prince who had just moments ago brimmed with charisma, leading his people, was gone. In his place stood only a flustered young man at a loss for words. Elduin floundered, repeatedly reaching out with his hand only to pull it back.
This was the power of Aurora's gift: Fascination. Even I, who had some inkling and prepared my mind, couldn't stop fixating on the aura radiating from her beside me.
Aurora's gaze passed over Elduin, turning toward the survivors behind the barricade. The male survivors, who had been propping up the barrier in terror just seconds ago, stared at her with the exact same entranced look—robbed of their attention by her overwhelming presence.
"Prince Elduin...."
Aurora's voice was clear and pure. No, it was the same as always. It was just that her intense presence made my brain perceive her voice as something special. And surely, I wasn't the only one feeling that way.
"This danger we're facing won't vanish just by waiting. No matter how sturdy the barricade, the threat of the monsters outside remains unchanged. So.... we must venture beyond it and take them down, even at great risk. To resolve the danger, we have to throw ourselves into it."
"Uh, w-well, that is...."
"I'm Aurora Victoria. Please call me Aurora."
"Ah, yes. Miss Aurora. Your words certainly have merit.... but it's far too dangerous. Everyone here, yourself included, are ordinary people without professional combat training. It's neither moral nor logical to lead them into peril. We should leave the monsters to the experts and hold out here...."
What? That actually makes sense? He wouldn't even pretend to listen when I said it. What's with the attitude shift?
Elduin desperately tried to string together a rational argument, but his voice had lost its usual firmness, trembling faintly. Surprisingly, Aurora didn't interrupt, waiting patiently for him to finish. She even nodded in agreement.
"I understand. If that's how you feel, Prince...."
As Aurora nodded, Elduin's face lit up.
"Then hurry inside the barricade...!"
"No. If that's how you feel, then I'll take them down myself."
"No. Not alone."
"Ah, right. With Mr. Allen, that makes two of us."
"...Ha?"
At those words, Elduin's face drained completely white.
"That's absurd! Facing those monsters alone...!"
Who said alone? I'm here too, you know.
Elduin's rational judgment clashed violently with his instinctive urges. But Aurora, unconcerned with his turmoil, simply stepped toward the ghost stories. Watching her, he closed his eyes briefly and drew a deep breath.
"Very well! As Miss Aurora says, we can't hide forever! I can't skulk behind as a prince of a nation while she risks her life against the monsters! The barricade is nearly complete anyway—no major issue without me. I'll help too!"
"Prince Elduin! Let me help as well!"
"Allow us to join you!"
Starting with Elduin's declaration, Muchia Leoporte and the other male survivors began emerging from behind the barricade one by one.
"Good! Those unharmed or with minor injuries! Those confident in their physical abilities! And those willing to stake their lives for others—rise up! Everyone, come out and fight with me!!"
"Woooaaahhh!!"
They rose, trying to stage a touching scene, but to me watching from a step back, it looked like pure comedy. They spoke of standing for the greater good, but at their core, they were merely enthralled by Aurora's Fascination, driven by desire. The urge not to leave her in danger alone, male pride refusing to cower behind her, or the burning wish to impress her. It was ridiculous, yet it perfectly illustrated the intensity of her gift.
This is practically a hypnosis app.
That's how I had framed this loop from the start. One step from capturing the king, but not enough turns left. No line of play led to checkmate within the remaining moves.
The solution was simple. If my pieces couldn't deliver checkmate, introduce a new one.
That was all.
....
The human history exhibit zone was already a pandemonium. Display cases for relics lay shattered long ago, and the ancient, dust-covered artifacts moved with anachronistic life, pouncing on defenseless visitors.
"Hoo! Don't you think you're a thousand years too late to start moving?!"
Splat!
Amid the screams and chaotic clamor, Rone plunged fearlessly through the ghost stories. She feigned nonchalance, but tension etched her face. She fully leveraged her gift against the exhibits' horrors, her small frame belying impossibly agile, powerful movements as she systematically destroyed them.
As she rampaged, survivors' gazes locked onto her, fueling her Stage Constitution—their attention invigorating her body further.
She swung her wooden stick to shatter a flying porcelain piece, then stomped a clay statue that looked at least a millennium old into pulp.
But even enhanced by her gift, a human body had limits. Unlike her club advisor's specially acquired ability, her innate gift—remarkable as it was—couldn't transcend human bounds.
As the fight dragged on against the endless onslaught, Rone's stamina ebbed. Her breaths grew ragged, movements slowed. Muscles screamed, sweat poured like rain.
"Ngh...! Not yet, not yet...!"
As the exhausted girl paused to catch her breath, the 'noose of the gallows' lunged from thin air. She shielded her neck instinctively, but it coiled viciously around her ankle instead.
Snap!
"Wha...!? That's my ankle, not my neck!"
Already worn out, Rone's slip was perfectly exploited by the gallows' noose. Instantly bound, she flipped upside down into the air, left defenseless amid the horrors.
In that desperate moment, she squeezed her eyes shut.
Ah, so this is as far as I go....
Even crushed by terror, her comrades' faces flashed through her mind.
The rest.... I'll leave to everyone. I trust you, Mr. Allen.
She closed her eyes, awaiting death.
But it didn't come.
Boom!!
Thud! Thud! Thud!
"Kweeeek!!"
What arrived instead was a ridiculous dinosaur covered in feathers. With heavy vibrations, the colorful beast smashed through obstacles, revealing itself.
"Miss Rone! Are you okay?!"
Rozalia Soline, astride the dinosaur, shouted urgently at the dangling girl.
"Ahh.... What do I do? This goofy dinosaur's starting to look kinda cool."
Rone let out a weak laugh of relief.
"That's why I said just buy time."
Rozalia scolded, maneuvering the dinosaur's massive foot to crush the gallows.
"Hmmm.... Still, better to thin out the ghost stories a bit, right?"
"Sigh. Don't blame me if you die!"
With a sigh at Rone's recklessness, Rozalia commanded the dinosaur to sweep the remaining horrors from the human history zone.
Her gift allowed her unconscious, heartfelt beliefs to manifest reality. Normally hampered by strict limits—hard to trigger, impossible to force consciously—but not now.
She was willfully activating it to tame the dinosaur.
Because this differed decisively from the murder hotel or misfortune letter incidents. The outcome—manipulating ghost stories to taste—was similar, but the process was reversed.
She'd failed with the misfortune letter because she consciously tried to distort it, believing herself false and the letter true.
But now, she believed she'd restored the dinosaur's 'proper form' from its 'warped' state by the ghost story. Simply: the ghost story was wrong, she was right.
She consciously knew her gift altered it, but if she believed the change natural, why wouldn't it activate? The ghost story was flawed, she was correct—no doubt meant pure, untainted resentment.
In the hotel or letter cases, consciously or not, she was 'unnaturally' twisting them—realization nullified or canceled the effect.
Now, with reversed logic but same result, success here allowed sustained or further strengthening even upon realization.
Ghost stories arose and persisted on imagination and belief. What if one person's overwhelming imagination and faith rejected and redefined it?
That was unfolding now.
"Kweeek!!"
Overwritten by Rozalia's pure wish, the dinosaur trampled the exhibits without hesitation.
Thus, the Paranormal Investigation Club members began eradicating ghost stories in their assigned zones.
At last, the moment of checkmate approached.