“Wait, how?” Kassandra asked, completely baffled by Ludwig’s placement in the finals.
Ludwig couldn’t help but flash her a knowing smile, leaving her to figure it out on her own.
“Regardless, this gives him a good shot at grabbing the orb. Please do—I don’t want to study for the exams anymore,” Hoyo groaned, half-serious.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ludwig replied nonchalantly. For him, the entire tournament was more of a casual distraction than a test of skill. His true concern lay elsewhere—the ominous chains he’d seen earlier, and the unsettling feeling of souls being tampered with. Something darker was happening behind the masquerade’s festivities.
Kassandra, however, seemed far more invested, nervously tapping her foot as the minutes dragged on. Her tension seemed to grow with every passing moment.
Finally, the announcer’s voice broke through the low murmur of the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, the King’s Gambit Tournament has reached its final match! Please direct your attention to the main chessboard, where our final contenders will compete for the grand prize!”
Ludwig stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. “I’ll head to the final table,” he said, walking toward the board set at the center of the venue.
“So many people are watching,” Hoyo muttered as he scanned the crowd. Though the number of spectators had thinned since the start of the tournament, a decent crowd of enthusiasts remained, discussing strategies, analyzing matches, or eagerly awaiting the final showdown.
Kassandra leaned forward, eyes narrowing as she spotted Ludwig’s opponent. “That’s her…the daughter of the House Urbaf,” she said softly, more to herself than to anyone else. Her voice carried a mix of awe and concern. As she had just lost to her earlier.
As Ludwig took his seat at the board, his opponent arrived shortly after. She strode confidently to her side of the table, her ornate rapier clinking softly as she rested it against the edge of the table. Her mask, a delicate creation of ivory and gemstones, gave her an air of elegance and authority.
“You made it,” she said, her tone cool but with a hint of amusement.
Ludwig didn’t bother with pleasantries. He focused on arranging his pieces, his movements calm and deliberate.
“You know something, don’t you?” she pressed, lowering her voice.
He glanced at her briefly before murmuring, “Too many ears.”
Understanding his meaning, she didn’t push further. “I see…” she said quietly, her expression unreadable behind her mask.
The referee approached. “Are you both ready to begin?”
“Yes,” she said, her tone steady.
“Go whenever,” Ludwig added, his voice as calm as ever.
“Have you agreed on sides?” the referee asked.
“I’ll take black,” Ludwig said without hesitation.
“I’ll take white, then,” she replied.
The referee nodded. “Very well. Best of luck to both of you.”
As the game began, Ludwig quickly noticed her skill. She was a decent player—her moves were calculated, and her strategies solid. Yet, cracks began to show as the match progressed. She made small but critical mistakes, likely a result of her divided focus.
“You’re pretty scatterbrained,” Ludwig remarked after exploiting a weak opening.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice tinged with irritation.
“You’re not focused,” Ludwig said simply, moving his knight into a stronger position.
Her hand hesitated over the board. “One of my teammates isn’t doing too well,” she admitted, frustration evident in her tone.
“And your being distracted isn’t helping him,” Ludwig countered as he continued to reinforce his position.
Her jaw tightened as she moved another piece by vocal command. “Then tell me what you know,” she demanded.
“Like I said, too many ears,” Ludwig replied, his voice unwavering.
“No one would dare go against my house,” she said, her tone sharp.
“They sure as hell can at this event,” Ludwig shot back. “Remember, you’re not the daughter of Urbaf here. You’re just another person with a mask.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she made another move. “Check,” she said.
Ludwig frowned slightly but didn’t let it show.
“Seems like this is the end,” she said with a small smile.
“Is it?” Ludwig replied, calmly repositioning his knight to block the check.
She seized the offensive, pressing her advantage and claiming several of his pawns. “You seem distracted yourself,” she said. “I’ve seen you beat others in two or three moves. Why not here?”
“Doing the same trick over and over gets boring,” Ludwig said as he moved another piece into position.
“For me, what’s boring is the way you’re defending without any counterplay. That’s another pawn down,” she said triumphantly.
“Pawns are made to be sacrificed,” Ludwig said, his tone cool and detached.
“Even pawns can become queens,” she retorted, moving her own queen forward. “Not everyone deserves to be sacrificed.”
Ludwig’s lips curved into a faint smile as he positioned his queen near hers, blocking her next check. “And even a queen,” he said, “can be sacrificed.”
Her confidence faltered for a moment. “That just loses you the game. I still have an advantage,” she said, swiftly capturing his queen.
“Check,” she declared. “You die next move.”
Ludwig didn’t move his king. Instead, his hand hovered over his knight, repositioning it to block the check once again.
“You’re prolonging the inevitable,” she said as she took his knight, eliminating one of his last defenses. “Now your queen and knight are gone. Who will protect your king?”
Ludwig didn’t respond immediately. His gaze flickered over the board, his expression unreadable. Then, with deliberate precision, he moved his bishop into play—a piece she hadn’t accounted for.
Her eyes widened as realization dawned.
“How did it feel?” Ludwig asked, his voice calm but laced with a quiet intensity. “That short-lived hope of yours?”
The bishop’s move, supported by his remaining knight, clamped her king into an inescapable checkmate.
She stared at the board in disbelief. “H-how… no, you sacrificed your queen and knight just to pull my own queen out of position?”
Ludwig leaned back slightly, his voice even. “She was the only piece that could’ve protected your king. And you were too blinded by the sight of victory to notice that you had no allies left defending it. Everything is to be sacrificed for the king.”
Her hands trembled as she stared at the board, the reality of her loss sinking in. The crowd, which had been murmuring softly, erupted into applause and cheers.
Ludwig stood, offering her a faint nod before turning to leave. For him, the game was over. But the questions he had about the strange occurrences at the masquerade remained unanswered—and he intended to find those answers.
