56
Chapter 56
Tap-.
Tap-.
...Tap.
Tap-.
...Tap.
Tap-.
Beatrice's pieces are dying rapidly. My Queen, who stormed into her territory, is tearing through her ranks single-handedly.
Rooks can only move in straight lines. When the Queen attacks from a diagonal, they become instantly helpless. Of course, they could move to evade.
The same applies to Bishops and Knights. Each has a specific weakness in their mobility.
In contrast, the Queen is a piece capable of omnidirectional attack. No matter where she's placed, she can keep almost any other piece within her strike range.
"...Good grief, I'm completely powerless."
"Keke."
"If I save the Rook, the Knight dies; if I move the Knight, the Rook dies... Tsk."
In terms of value, a Rook is worth more than a Knight. Beatrice, lacking experience in chess, moved her Rook forward three squares and sacrificed her Knight. She chose to save the Rook.
Tap-.
I immediately captured Beatrice's Knight. A short sigh escaped her lips. My Queen, now standing where the Knight had been, was putting Beatrice's white King in check.
If that were all, she could simply move the King to safety, but the real problem was that my Queen was also targeting the Rook she had just moved.
"Hmm, I suppose I have no other choice."
Beatrice chose to move her King. There was no other way. I immediately captured her Rook, and a similar situation unfolded again. My Queen was now eyeing both the King and the Knight simultaneously.
Beatrice's low groan drifted through the silence. Gulp, she swallowed hard. The momentum had shifted; the presence of my Chess skill, despite having only two pieces left, was clearly making her anxious.
After that, similar scenarios repeated themselves several times. Each time, Beatrice helplessly handed over her pieces, and the gap between us narrowed.
The phrase 'roaming the board freely' would be the perfect description. My Queen was the predator of the chessboard. An overwhelming predator at that.
Beyond the pieces themselves, the difference in skill was vast. I could see a future that was invisible to Beatrice, and every time my Queen moved about three times, one of Beatrice's pieces inevitably died.
And so, after exchanging dozens of moves.
Tap-.
Tap-.
Flinch-.
Tap-.
Beatrice began to flinch habitually the moment I even gripped the Queen. It was because she had witnessed her pieces being slaughtered repeatedly every time my Queen moved. Beatrice, who had started with a lukewarm attitude, was now completely absorbed.
An ingrained fear.
The terror felt by the weak.
The superiority felt by the strong.
Defeat, despair, awe, fear, helplessness.
Victory, glory, superiority, slaughter, excitement.
Chess is like a small-scale war. The emotions crossing between Beatrice and me surge across the squared chessboard.
Tap-.
And so, Beatrice's final defending piece has just died, leaving her with nothing but the King. It's checkmate. This is the result achieved by a single piece, exerting its power alone.
If Beatrice had even a bit of chess experience, such a performance would have been impossible; I'm glad things went as expected. I had gambled on the fact that a hardcore training maniac like Beatrice would never have played a game like chess.
"...I have lost."
Beatrice accepts her defeat cleanly.
As she removes her King with a look of regret, her brown eyes are filled with a profound sense of awe toward me. Or rather, a feeling she only perceived as awe.
"You are skilled. I am ashamed of my arrogance."
"Ahaha. I've played chess for quite a while."
"I never imagined I would lose to a single Queen. Truly impressive."
"I am quite impressive, aren't I?"
Despite losing, Beatrice offers me praise. Normally, I would have accepted it graciously, but praise isn't what Beatrice should be giving me right now.
"Impressive, right? The Queen."
"She certainly is. There's a reason she's valued at nine points."
"Tearing through the enemy lines alone and bravely dominating the board... the Queen is such a wonderful piece. Or perhaps, was it just my control that was good?"
"I would say it was both. The Queen's ability was extraordinary, and your skill was superb."
"Hmm...."
Good grief, nothing but praise.
Time to start the engine.
"How unexpected."
"What is?"
"I thought Dame Beatrice would be envious of me."
"...I simply lost due to a difference in skill. Why would I be envious?"
"Kekeke."
Her skin is thick as a wall.
Time to peel it away.
"And yet, for all your words, why does the emotion of envy drip so clearly from your voice, Dame Beatrice?"
"Stop talking nonsense."
"Nonsense? I'm just saying what I feel while looking at you. You even have a blush on your face. Be honest. You wanted to win, didn't you? Even in a small game like this, you wanted to be the victor, right?"
"Do not speculate. There is no way I would feel envy over something like chess. Though it's true I wanted to win."
"Does that mean you would feel envy if it were something other than chess?"
"...."
"The envy of the stiff-necked Dame Beatrice... I'm curious what exactly you're envious of. Shall I try to guess?"
When I first saw Beatrice.
When I heard her past.
And later, when I indirectly showed her the 'past Beatrice Constantino' through chess.
I recalled the image of Beatrice across those three memories.
"Actually, through chess, I wanted to show you who you used to be, Dame Beatrice."
"I suspected as much."
"Dame Beatrice, running wild like an invincible force among the countless soldiers and generals of the Nation of War, and the warriors of that nation feeling the terror of their lives being threatened. And Dame Beatrice feeling a strange sense of superiority. I tried to capture those three elements."
"Superiority! How cruel and barbaric war is! How could you say that one feels superiority while fighting a war!"
Beatrice leaped to her feet to refute my words. To her, for whom the war with the Nation of War remained a kind of trauma, the story I was bringing up now was certainly unwelcome.
But I did not stop talking.
"Didn't you know? Humans are inherently barbaric. While killing people in war, they feel repulsion at taking a life, fear for the life fading before them, and an instinctive thrill from trampling those weaker than themselves. The world calls that last feeling superiority."
"You have me all wrong! I am not such a beastly person! I took up the sword simply because I wanted to protect the Holy Nation and my family! There was no other intent!"
"Is that so? Then why were you polishing that Greatsword?"
"...!"
When I first saw Beatrice, she was quietly singing a hymn while polishing the Greatsword with a handkerchief.
The Greatsword that had pierced her father's heart.
"Normally, people tuck things that remain as trauma into some corner and never look at them again, don't they? Why were you polishing that Greatsword so preciously, Dame Beatrice?"
"That is because it is my father's keepsake...."
"At the same time, it is the sword that ended your father's breath. Isn't it strange? That you treat a sword, which is essentially your enemy, with such care."
"...."
"Almost like someone who is ready to fight at any moment."
The initiative of the conversation had shifted to me. And Beatrice's resistance had diminished.
I continued.
"There is another strange point. When you spoke of your past, Dame Beatrice, you clearly said, 'I became a knight because I wanted to receive my father's love.' You said your father 'treated you coldly because he wanted to help you achieve your dream of becoming a knight.' If so, until you hoped to become a Holy Knight, Your Holiness must have treated you kindly, right?"
"...That is correct. Long ago, my father was a good man."
"Huh? Then the story becomes a bit strange. For Dame Beatrice, who was already receiving plenty of love, to say, 'I'll become a knight because I want to be loved!' Wouldn't it make more sense if you became a knight thinking, 'My father, a great knight, is so cool!'?"
A Holy Knight is a being who must not harbor desire.
Serving the Lord and the Seven Great Saints, they prioritize the cultivation of both mind and body, unlike ordinary warriors who focus only on military power.
Beatrice herself hadn't known. More accurately, she had been deceiving herself.
About her own true feelings.
"The Pope, whom you observed from a close distance since childhood, was the strongest in the Holy Nation. He crushed all foreign invasions with force and always raised the glorious flag of the victor. People go wild for the legends of a hero. They project themselves onto that 'hero,' not the loser. They want to be intoxicated by the winner's emotions and long for the superior position of the victor looking down on the defeated. Young Dame Beatrice must have been the same."
"...."
"Don't be ashamed. Superiority is a natural feeling for any human being. Why? Because humans are beasts too! Feeling superior by trampling those weaker than yourself, or feeling pleasure while watching those below you dance for your amusement—these are all innate human desires! There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of!"
"...."
"A one-man army, a hero boldly driving back the onslaught of enemies! That's who you wanted to be! To be precise, you craved the awe and the fear in their eyes as you pushed them back! And the admiration and longing that followed! It's a lure so powerful that anyone would want it! Put your hand on your heart and think. When you swept through the Warriors of the Nation of War with Lucifer's power, did you really feel no sense of superiority?"
Beatrice, as a priest, has a conscience.
Normally, it's the kind of conscience that raises one's moral standards.
But right now, it is a hook designed to drag out her ugly inner thoughts.
"With a single swing of your sword, dozens of people were sent flying! With a single punch, hundreds collapsed! Did you really feel nothing? That sense of becoming something great! That instinctive superiority the strong feel among the weak! Can you honestly swear that you didn't feel even a shred of it? Haa, haa..."
Perhaps because I had been talking so excitedly, my throat felt dry. As I paused to catch my breath, Beatrice, who had been listening in silence, finally spoke.
"That is not true."
"Kekeke."
"Even if I did feel it, I am a Holy Knight. I cannot be proud of harboring such vulgar desires."
"Good grief, you're so dishonest. You really are interesting."
Beatrice calmly denied my words.
I guess this isn't enough to sway her. She's not an easy target.
Then again, to tempt a rigid Holy Knight like Beatrice, I would need more preparation.
So, I prepared more.
In the form of a real-life version of the chessboard we just played on.
ROAR-!
SHRIEK-!
"Hmm? Monsters are howling. Which ones are they?"
"Oh, it looks like there's more than just a couple of them."
It seems Aru carried out the mission I gave her perfectly. With a light extension of my senses, I could detect hundreds of monsters within range.
As expected of a Black Wyvern. The lure is definitely effective.
"Kugh... Is this where I meet my end?"
"Huh? Why would this be where you meet your end, Dame Beatrice?"
"Because the enemies are swarming. I have no intention of fighting. I would rather die as I am. I am not even worthy of killing those monsters."
"A person's mind can change at any moment."
Rumble-.
The ground shakes. A massive legion of monsters is charging toward this spot. I stood up, gripping the trump cards in my pocket.
"I'll go ahead and fight first. Whenever you've made up your mind, please come out, Dame Beatrice."
"I clearly stated that I will not fight."
"I'll let you feel it again—the sensation of a strong person roaming among the weak. As a bonus, I'll help you find the meaning of your life."