Two matches later, Nick was still in the competition, defying all expectations. He had outmaneuvered a quick-footed young man and outlasted a grizzled veteran, both victories secured in the chess rounds. Word spread fast—Nick wasn't just another challenger. He was a problem.
The villagers didn't take kindly to problems.
Every time he won, the hostility grew. The cheers for his opponents turned into jeers for him. To them, he was an outsider disrespecting their beloved competition. A midst the sea of scorn, only two voices stood out—Renn and Silas, his lone supporters against an entire village that wanted to see him fail.
From his high platform, the village leader remained composed, his piercing gaze never leaving Nick. He had watched every match with unnerving intensity, as if assessing something beyond the game itself.
The fourth match was about to begin. Nick's opponent was a blonde woman with ice-blue eyes and a smirk that hinted at trouble. She took her seat across from him, rolling her shoulders like a fighter loosening up before a bout.
"You're making enemies fast," she remarked, placing her first piece. "Let's see if you can make one more."
She played aggressively, pushing a pawn forward to unleash her queen—the move Nick used earlier in the tournament. He narrowed his eyes. She was playing him, testing him. He wouldn't fall for his own trick.
He adjusted his knights, reinforcing his defenses. The crowd roared in approval when she countered flawlessly, shifting her knight forward in an audacious attack. Unlike his previous opponents, she wasn't just playing to survive till the boxing round. She was planning ahead. Every move had a purpose.
This was real chess.
Before she could strike again, the buzzer sounded. It was time to fight.
They entered the ring, tension crackling between them. The crowd stomped and cheered, her name echoing through the arena. Nick hesitated—he had never fought a woman before. She, too, hesitated, knowing he had the advantage in raw strength. But hesitation had no place in the ring.
She moved first, feinting left before pivoting into a quick jab. Nick dodged, countering with a low kick that knocked her slightly off balance. He expected her to falter—she didn't. Instead, she used the momentum, rolling with the impact before springing back up and driving her fist into his ribs.
Pain exploded through his side. She was fast. Stronger than she looked. He barely had time to recover before she launched a spinning kick toward his head. He ducked just in time, catching her leg and yanking her down.
She hit the mat but rolled away, getting back up instantly. She wasn't just tough—she was relentless. The buzzer rang, signaling the end of the round, but Nick could already tell: this fight wasn't over.
They returned to the chessboard, breathless but unshaken. She moved immediately, capturing his knight with surgical precision. But Nick had been planning. He advanced his pawn, seizing control of the center and setting up a devastating trap.
She realized her mistake a second too late. His queen surged forward. The checkmate threat was imminent.
Desperation flickered across her face. She moved her bishop to block, but it was exactly what he wanted. Without hesitation, he struck, capturing her queen with his bishop. The crowd gasped.
The bell rang. The final round of boxing had arrived.
Due to her losing her queen, she entered the ring without gloves. No protection. No hesitation. Just grit.
The moment the fight started, she lunged, throwing a desperate punch toward his face. Nick reacted instantly, his fist meeting hers in mid-air.
A sickening crack echoed through the arena.
She staggered back, clutching her hand, her breath hitching in pain. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to scream. She refused to give them that.
Nick took a step forward, unsure if he should help, unsure if she'd even accept it. But the fight was over.
"I surrender," she hissed through clenched teeth. "I need a doctor."
Medics rushed into the ring, lifting her onto a stretcher. Nick stood frozen, staring at his own hand, his heart pounding. He hadn't meant to break her. He had only been defending himself, but now… now it didn't matter.
The villagers erupted into chaos. The boos became roars of fury. Some tried to push past security, their anger boiling over. A cheater. A brute. An outsider who had no place here.
Nick turned toward the high platform. The village leader was still seated, watching the storm unfold with an unreadable expression.
Nick had won, but morality had its own rules. He hadn't expected it to happen like this, but no matter—he was in the finals, and the crowd's boos were louder than ever. The weight of their hatred settled over him like a thick fog, suffocating and inescapable.
His final opponent was Abatus, a towering, muscle-bound fighter with a cold stare and a reputation for brutality. His presence alone was enough to make the air feel heavier. The crowd loved him. They wanted blood, and Nick knew they expected him to provide it.
They sat at the board, the tension between them almost unbearable. The chess clock ticked like a bomb waiting to go off.
Nick, playing white, opened aggressively, bringing his queen out early, but Abatus played defensively, developing his knights instead. Nick capitalized on an opening, capturing Abatus's knight with his queen and retreating, gaining an early advantage. The match felt eerily similar to his previous fight, but Abatus had learned. He maneuvered his knight twice, deliberately sacrificing it in front of Nick's queen, shielding his king from an impending attack. It was a bait, and Nick could see the trap forming, yet he still hesitated. He had a free knight in front of him, a chance to press his advantage.
Just as he reached for his piece, the bell rang, shattering the moment like a crack of thunder.
A chill ran down his spine. He had no chance in the ring against Abatus.
The crowd erupted into chants of "ABATUS! ABATUS! BEAT HIS ASS!" Their voices rang through the arena, a violent symphony of rage and anticipation. Even Silas and Renn remained silent, knowing that cheering for Nick would only make things worse. His stomach churned, but there was no time to dwell on it.
The fight began. Abatus wasted no time, lunging at Nick with a slow but devastating punch. Nick dodged, barely escaping the force of it, but before he could react, another fist crashed into his stomach, sending him to his knees. The crowd roared with excitement, celebrating his pain. The world tilted, his breath left him in ragged gasps. He tried to stand, but a brutal kick sent him sprawling to the ground, his nose spurting blood like an open wound.
The bell rang, but the damage was done. Abatus smirked, towering over him like a god of war, before rolling Nick out of the ring like discarded trash.
Nick had only one chance—win the next chess round or be destroyed in the next fight.
Back at the board, he moved fast, taking Abatus's knight, but the crowd's endless booing rattled him. Every second felt heavier. Abatus played carefully, setting up a slow, methodical defense, waiting for the next bell. It was clear he was in control, dictating the pace, forcing Nick to play on borrowed time.
Nick saw an opening. He moved his queen to the e-file, setting up an unstoppable attack. This was it. The final blow.
Abatus, confident, made a sacrifice—his queen to protect his king. But he missed something.
Nick slid his queen to the far-left square, lining up a direct diagonal strike on the black king. Checkmate was in his grasp. He gripped the piece tightly, ready to end it—but his hand wouldn't move.
His eyes darted toward the leader, who was watching closely, his expression unreadable. Their gazes locked for a brief moment. The leader raised an eyebrow, as if challenging him to proceed. Nick was about to win, so why couldn't he do it? His fingers trembled over the queen, the deafening screams of the crowd crashing over him like a tidal wave. The echoes of the past surged forward—three years ago, the same suffocating pressure, the same unshakable fear.
He let go of the piece, his breath caught in his throat.
The bell rang.
"I surrender!" Nick shouted.
The crowd exploded in celebration. Champagne bottles popped. People cheered wildly. Renn and Silas rushed to his side.
"What happened? You were about to win!" Renn asked, confused.
Nick said nothing. He clutched his bloody nose as Renn helped him up and took him to the hospital.