With a deliberate, almost ceremonial gesture, I moved my pawn, a small, dark pebble, to d5. The sound, a soft scrape against the earth, echoed in the stillness, a quiet declaration of intent that hung in the cool night air. The firelight flickered, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to mimic the strategic movements unfolding on our makeshift board.
Sarah, her brow furrowed in concentration, her eyes narrowed in a silent struggle against the complexities of the game, moved her queen, a polished, iridescent leaf, to a4. The leaf, catching and reflecting the fire's warm glow, seemed to shimmer with an inner light, a testament to her focused determination. A subtle tremor in her hand, barely perceptible, betrayed the mental effort she was expending, the weight of each decision pressing down on her.
Undeterred by her queen's aggressive advance, I moved my bishop, a slender, intricately patterned twig, to c6, once again placing her prized piece in jeopardy. The twig, casting a long, skeletal shadow that danced with the firelight, seemed to point a silent accusation, a subtle challenge to her strategic prowess.
Her response was swift, yet held a moment of hesitation. She moved her bishop, a vibrant cluster of deep green leaves, to g4. The leaves, rustling softly in the still night air, seemed to whisper a warning, a subtle threat that hung in the smoky haze. The firelight danced across their delicate surfaces, highlighting their intricate veins, transforming them into miniature works of art, momentarily distracting from the tactical implications.
The tension in the air was palpable, a silent current that crackled between us, as tangible as the warmth of the fire. With a decisive move, I moved my knight, a gnarled, dark twig, to e2, capturing her bishop. The twig, snapping softly as it landed on its new square, seemed to relish its small victory, a silent predator seizing its unsuspecting prey.
Her reaction was immediate, a swift and decisive counterstrike that spoke volumes about her tactical awareness. She moved her rook, a sturdy, elongated twig, to e2, recapturing her lost piece and simultaneously taking my knight. The rook, landing with a soft thud that punctuated the silence, seemed to assert its dominance, a powerful force reclaiming its territory. The firelight gleamed off the smooth surface of the rook, making it appear almost metallic, a silent weapon forged in the heart of our woodland arena.
"How can you say that we are the weakest?" I asked, the question echoing in the hushed stillness of the forest, a note of disbelief in my voice.
"Because Silph said so," she replied, her voice low and steady, her gaze unwavering. "Reincarnators get a lot of time to improve their skills. Apart from this, they also have some unique skills. And when it comes to heroes, their training is done by the best people of the kingdom. Also, the god sends them here with special skills and weapons."
Her words painted a vivid picture of the daunting challenges we faced, a stark contrast to the seemingly peaceful setting of our forest encampment. The fire crackled, sending sparks spiraling into the inky blackness above, like miniature stars mirroring the vast and unknown dangers that lurked beyond our small circle of light.
"But it's also true that we have a lot of potential, isn't it?" I asked, seeking a glimmer of hope in the face of what seemed like overwhelming odds.
"Yes, but—" she began, her voice trailing off, a hint of hesitation clouding her usual confidence.
"But?" I prompted, leaning forward, eager to understand the unspoken reservation that lingered in her tone.
"You won't understand," she said, her voice laced with a hint of melancholy, a sense of possessing knowledge that was just out of my reach.
Undeterred by her cryptic words, I focused my attention back on our game, the familiar patterns offering a sense of grounding in this strange new reality. With a decisive move, I shifted my queen, the shimmering leaf, to b2, applying direct pressure on her rook and subtly shifting the dynamic of the game.
Sarah paused, her brow furrowed in deep thought, the firelight reflecting in her narrowed eyes as she meticulously weighed her options. "I don't know," she finally admitted, her voice laced with a hint of uncertainty that was rare for her.
"It's alright," I reassured her, my gaze steady, offering a silent encouragement. "If we are the weakest, then we will just have to work the hardest. Right?"
"How are you so optimistic?" she asked, a genuine hint of wonder in her voice, as if she were trying to decipher a hidden strength within me.
If only she knew the kind of situations I had navigated in my past life.
"It's just like that," I replied with a shrug and a small, knowing smile playing on my lips. "By the way, do we have any special cheating ability, you know, just the two of us?"
"Maybe..." she said, her voice trailing off again, this time with a hint of intrigue dancing in her eyes, as if a secret was about to be revealed. "I think there are 2."
"And which are those two?" I asked, my curiosity now fully piqued, eager to uncover any advantage we might possess.
"The first one is fake status," she explained, her voice taking on a slightly more technical tone, as if recalling information she had learned. "We can change our status by going into settings so that people will not be able to know our actual status."
"Hmm, I don't think this can really be called an ability," I remarked, a hint of skepticism in my voice. It felt more like a clever trick, a way to conceal information, rather than a true power.
"Okay, what else?" I asked, eager to hear the second, potentially more significant, ability that she had alluded to.
"The second is leveling," she said, her voice laced with a hint of wonder, as if she were still processing the implications of this unique trait.
"So it's like that," I mused aloud, a flicker of understanding dawning within me.
"By the way, Sarah," I began, shifting the conversation to a more pressing matter, "do you think we should tell others that we are from Japan?"
"No," she replied immediately, her voice firm and resolute, leaving no room for doubt.
"I also think so," I agreed, a sense of shared understanding passing between us. The less people knew about our origins, the better, at least for now.
The silence that followed was broken only by the soft scrape of a piece moving across our earthen chessboard. Sarah, with a swift and decisive motion, moved her rook, the sturdy twig, to b2, placing my queen under immediate threat.
"By the way," I began again, my voice laced with a hint of playful curiosity, trying to lighten the somewhat serious mood.
"Hmm?" she responded, her eyes flicking up from the board, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
"Why did you take my queen earlier?" I asked, a teasing tone in my voice.
A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes as she replied, "How about I become your queen instead?"
"No need," I retorted with a chuckle, the warmth of the fire reflecting in my own amusement. The playful challenge in her expression was infectious.
"Check!" she declared, her voice ringing out with a triumphant note, her rook now bearing down on my king.
"Yeah, yeah," I conceded with a hint of mock resignation, already plotting my next move.
I moved my rook, another sturdy twig, to b8, intercepting her attack and capturing her rook in the process.
She then moved her rook, a different twig, to f1.
"Why didn't you take my defenseless bishop earlier?" I asked, genuinely curious about her strategic decision.
"Sorry, but I have no interest in getting checkmated so soon," she replied with a wry smile, her eyes sparkling with intelligence.
It was remarkable how well she remembered which natural object represented which piece. Despite the unconventional playing materials, she hadn't made a single blunder so far. "I respect you, Sarah," I said sincerely.
I then moved my pawn, the small dark pebble, to d4, opening up new possibilities for my remaining pieces.
She responded by moving her rook, yet another twig, to c1.
I countered by moving my bishop, the slender twig, to b5, pinning her knight.
She then moved her rook to e1.
I moved my rook to e8, mirroring her move.
She surprised me by moving her bishop, the cluster of green leaves, to e8, blocking my rook.
I then advanced my pawn, a small pebble, to h4.
The firelight danced in Sarah's eyes, reflecting a playful mischief that warmed the cool night air. A comfortable sense of camaraderie, forged in the shared strangeness of our situation, crackled between us, a silent understanding that transcended the unusual circumstances.
"Oh," I said, my curiosity suddenly piqued by a different thought, "can you show me healing magic?"
"Yes," she replied, a hint of eagerness lighting up her features. "But whom should I heal?" A thoughtful pause followed, her gaze sweeping across our small clearing. "Idea! How about I heal you after biting your lips?"
My eyebrows shot up, a mixture of surprise and amusement swirling within me. "Are you a vampire?" I asked, a playful grin spreading across my face.
A flicker of genuine confusion crossed her features. "Vampires bite lips?" she questioned, her voice laced with innocent curiosity.
"I dunno, leave it," I replied, waving my hand dismissively, a chuckle escaping my lips at the unexpected turn of the conversation.
Sarah's gaze lingered on me, a strange mix of curiosity and something akin to exasperation in her eyes. "Why did you chuckle?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of suspicion. "It would've been good if it's for what we were talking about, but it's not because of that."
She punctuated her words by moving her pawn, a small, dark pebble, to f5, advancing her position on the board.
I countered with a swift and strategic movement of my bishop, the slender twig, to b5, putting pressure on her knight once again.
"Stop! I don't want to play anymore!" she suddenly declared, her voice a mix of frustration and playful surrender.
"Really?" I asked, a hint of amusement in my voice. "We are very close to the end. Maybe you also realized that you cannot defeat me."
"You're one of the most selfish people I've ever seen," she retorted, her eyes flashing with mock indignation.
"Why so?" I asked, feigning innocence.
"If there was someone else, he would have let me win!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation.
"No, I don't think Luca would do that," I replied, a hint of a smile playing on my lips as I recalled our friend's competitive spirit.
"Can you stop talking about him already?" she demanded, her voice rising slightly. "I believe that he brainwashed you!"
"Look, when I had no one, then Luca stood by me," I said, my voice firm and straightforward, a note of gratitude coloring my tone. "I can't forget what he did for me!"
"Fine," she said, her voice laced with a hint of resignation. "Now if you need help, just call him. Since I'm not going to help you anyway."
"By the way," I said, smoothly changing the subject back to our earlier discussion, "since I have won this game, I can go on the magic route, right?"
She reached out and placed her hand on my cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle, like that of a concerned guardian. "Leon, Leon, Leon," she said, her voice laced with a hint of concern, "I don't think you'll be able to go further with magic."
She reiterated her earlier warnings about the inherent vulnerabilities of magicians in this world, the lengthy casting times that left them open to attack, the reliance on incantations that could be easily interrupted. "Magicians are very weak," she emphasized. "If you are a magician, it will take you at least fifteen seconds to cast a spell. That much time will be more than enough for your enemy to kill you. Even after all that, if you manage to use the spell, what is the guarantee that it will even hit the enemy? The heroes who have chosen the magician class always have to stay under tight security because it's very easy to kill them."
"So what do you want me to be then?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by her strong conviction.
"Swordsman, or assassin," she replied, her voice firm and unwavering.
"Because they are good in close combat?" I asked, stating the obvious.
"Look, this world is not like the world of games or animes," she explained, her voice earnest and serious. "Here, the enemy will not politely wait for your spell to be completed. Apart from this, Silph told me that people always attack magicians and healers first because they are considered high-value targets."
"But you said that if I win in chess then you'll let me become a magician," I countered, a hint of playful defiance in my voice, reminding her of our earlier agreement. "I'll become a magician, and you become a swordsman, and after that, you can protect me."
"Alright," she said, a glint of challenge returning to her eyes. "Let's make a bet."
"What kind of bet?" I asked, intrigued by her sudden shift in tactics.
"You learn magic, and I will learn swordsmanship," she explained, her gaze intense. "After two months, we will fight to see who is stronger. If I win, then you'll leave the magician class aside and become something else. Okay?"
"Granted," I replied, meeting her gaze with my own determined look. The stakes were set.