Jiggs' POV
"Champ..." The name barely left my lips, fragile as air, as I stood frozen—staring at the impossible figure now looming before us.
I couldn't move.
None of us could.
The silence that followed his appearance was deafening. It crushed the room like a vice, squeezing the breath from our lungs. Champ's body—no, this new body—shimmered like molten starlight, his golden skin etched with pulsing sigils that throbbed with each slow, inhuman breath. His muscles were coiled like sculpted steel. Precision. Power. Perfection.
But his eyes...
He didn't blink.
He didn't react.
He just stared—straight ahead. Blank. Unfeeling. As if our presence didn't register at all.
I glanced at Deux. He was stiff, wide-eyed, his mouth slightly parted like the words had died in his throat.
"Deux..." My voice quivered. "Can you still feel him? Can you still feel Champ?"
Deux slowly shook his head, eyes never leaving the unrecognizable figure before us.
"No," he said quietly. "Our connection is gone. It's like... it was never there."
Oh no... no no no—
This was bad. This was very bad. As if stopping Nihilex wasn't already a suicide mission—we now had a twisted version of Champ added to the list. A walking weapon.
Champ, you're not supposed to be the villain of your own story... Wake up, please...
"What did you do to him?!" Deux suddenly snapped, voice cracking with desperation.
Nihilex remained calm, eerily calm, as he replied, "I simply gave him what was always meant to be his. I corrected him."
"They injected him with the Omega Gene-Altering Formula," Melior said, grave and hollow. "His body's already undergone the change. He's no longer the Champ you knew."
"What do you mean?" Deux asked.
Melior's voice dropped lower. "His emotions... his empathy... the ability to love... it's all gone."
A chill swept through my spine like icy daggers. My knees nearly gave out.
"Champ..." I whispered, stepping forward as tears pricked my eyes. "Don't you remember us?"
Still nothing.
He stared at me like I was just part of the furniture.
"I'm Jiggs... your best friend," I choked out, voice trembling. "That's Deux, your boyfriend. Silver—your brother. Melior—he wanted to be friends with us, with you. Don't you remember?"
Champ didn't blink.
Didn't move.
Didn't feel.
And Nihilex—he just stood there beside him, a puppeteer proud of his perfected marionette.
Suddenly, feeling returned to my limbs. My breath hitched as I slowly rose from the floor, inching my way toward Champ. Carefully. Cautiously. I extended a hand, trembling but hopeful—
Champ lifted his hand too.
My heart skipped.
Then—
"Jiggs!" Silver shouted.
In a blur of speed, he tackled me backward just as Champ's fingers twitched with unnatural force. I hit the ground hard, staring up in stunned confusion.
"W-Why?!" I gasped.
"Look at his face," Silver growled.
I turned.
And what I saw shattered me.
Champ was smiling.
But not in any way I had ever known.
It was twisted.
Predatory.
Empty.
"He doesn't recognize us," Silver said. "If I hadn't pulled you away, he would've crushed your bones without hesitation."
"No... no this can't be happening." I whispered, panic rising like a flood. "How do we get him back?"
Melior stepped forward, face grim. "We might not be able to. The longer the formula remains in his system, the more it consumes what's left of his original self. Eventually... there'll be nothing left to save."
My breathing grew shallow. My heartbeat thundered.
Then, Nihilex took a step forward.
"Now, Champ," he said with bone-chilling calm, "show them what true Omega power looks like. Show them fear. Start... with your best friend."
My blood froze.
Nihilex pointed at me.
Even as I scrambled back, still sprawled on the floor, my legs locked in place. I couldn't run. I couldn't even scream.
Champ's gaze locked on me.
And I couldn't read him anymore.
"Run, Jiggs," Silver said, stepping in front of me. "Tell Mother. Tell Voder. Deux and I will try to hold him off."
"But—" I tried to protest, tears blurring my sight.
"Go!" Silver roared.
"I—Okay!" I cried, stumbling to my feet, heart shattering as I turned and ran—ran as fast as I could—while behind me, the sound of my friend's final breath slipped into something monstrous. Something no longer human.
Something no longer Champ.
...
...
...
Deux's POV
The moment Jiggs began to run, Champ moved.
He wanted to follow.
But Silver stepped in.
He blocked him without hesitation.
And for the first time... I saw it.
This wasn't the same Champ I had known, loved, fought beside. He was unrecognizable—not just in body, but in soul.
Gone was the warmth. Gone was the flicker of emotion I used to feel even before he said a word.
Now, he was empty. A blank slate. And I couldn't read him anymore.
"Face me, Champ," Silver said, voice steady but eyes blazing.
Champ inhaled deeply.
Then—
SMASH!
With one swing, Silver was sent hurtling across the room like a ragdoll, his body crashing into a reinforced metal wall. The sound echoed like thunder.
My breath caught.
He didn't move.
"Wh-What kind of strength was that...?" I whispered, staring at the dented wall where Silver's body had embedded itself, struggling to even lift his head.
"Nihilex has created a monster," Melior muttered beside me. "He turned Champ into something inhuman..."
Then—
Champ's eyes snapped to me.
My blood ran cold.
"Why don't you confront your Alpha now, Champ?" Nihilex's voice slithered through the room. "Overpower him. Break him. Reverse destiny itself. Make him yours. Show him what it means to be an Omega male dominating an Alpha male. Let him submit to you."
And then—
Champ started walking toward me.
Deliberate. Mechanical. Unstoppable.
When he finally stood before me, our eyes met. But there was nothing behind his gaze. No flicker of recognition. No conflict. Just... void.
Then—
SMACK!
A brutal punch slammed into my gut, forcing me to stagger back.
Another blow followed, faster, more brutal—but I gritted my teeth, planting my feet.
I refused to fall.
I refused to fight back.
Because somewhere inside this monster, I knew... the real Champ was still there.
No matter how far buried, no matter how distorted—he was there.
And I wasn't going to hurt him.
Even if it killed me.
"Deux! Fight back!" Melior shouted. "Don't let him break you!"
"I can't!" I cried through clenched teeth, my body folding in pain. "I won't risk pushing him too far."
Because if Champ lost full control...
If he unleashed that power...
Omega's Whisper of Death.
One breath—one whisper—and everyone within his line of sight who he thinks as his enemy, would drop dead.
Right now, we are his enemies.
And when that moment came, we would die... so would he.
I couldn't let that happen.
He kept attacking me. Blow after blow. My body slammed to the ground, against walls, across the floor.
But I always stood back up.
Bruised. Bleeding. Barely breathing.
Still—I stood.
Because I had made a promise.
And I was going to keep it.
Just as his next punch came flying toward my face, I looked him in the eyes and said the words I knew he had to hear:
"No matter what happens, Champ... I'll never leave you. I'm still here."
And then—
For a fleeting moment...
A pause.
His fist hovered just inches from my face, suspended in the air like the final note of a song that refused to end. Time fractured around us. The air thickened. His knuckles trembled, ever so slightly, as though some invisible force—some buried fragment of himself—was fighting back from within.
He had stopped.
Not because he was ordered to.
But because something inside him—
remembered.
His eyes flickered.
A heartbeat.
A breath.
Then—
He moved again.
The fist came crashing forward, aiming straight for me—
But it never landed.
A blur sliced across my vision.
CRACK!
The sound echoed like a thunderclap through the chamber as a clenched fist struck Champ's jaw from the side, snapping his head sideways with brutal force.
He staggered.
And standing there, panting, bruised, trembling but fierce—
Was Silver.
Eyes blazing. Jaw clenched.
"Over my dead body," he growled.
Barely standing. Blood dripping from his mouth. Breathing like a man on the edge of collapse.
But his eyes burned with defiance.
"Deux! Fight for him!" Silver barked, stepping protectively in front of me. "Don't just take it! If you won't wake him up—I will!"
He turned back to Champ.
"And if you won't listen to him... you'll listen to me!"
Silver lunged, landing another punch—this time with everything he had.
But Champ retaliated.
THWACK!
Silver staggered as Champ's fist slammed into his ribs.
And then—
The fight exploded.
Silver and Champ clashed like titans—no choreography, no hesitation. Just raw, brutal power.
Silver struck with fury, shouting between each hit, "Wake up, Champ! I know you hear me!"
But Champ... defended. Every move was calculated. Efficient. Cold. He showed no anger, no pain, no anything.
And standing off to the side, Nihilex watched it all unfold, a wicked smile curling on his lips.
"Yes... that's it," he whispered. "Slaughter your own kind with your own hands, Champ. Show them what an evolved Omega truly is."
CRASH!
Another brutal impact.
I turned—just in time to see Silver fly across the room again, crashing hard onto the cold floor, his body writhing in pain.
He didn't move.
My chest clenched.
My throat burned.
I wanted to scream—but the sound was locked deep inside.
Silver had fallen.
And now, there was only me left standing between Champ—
—and the abyss.
"Deux, we need to get out of here while we still can," Melior urged, his voice sharp with panic. "We have to take Silver and run before Champ kills him."
But I hesitated.
If we fled now... I might never bring the real Champ back.
But if we stayed... Melior was right. Silver wouldn't survive.
"You can't reverse his mind like this," Melior added, his voice trembling. "Face it, Deux—he's gone. The gene-altering formula is devouring everything he used to be."
That was when I saw it—
Champ seized Silver by the head, lifting his entire body effortlessly, as if he weighed nothing. His fingers closed in with terrifying strength, and Silver's scream pierced the air—a cry so agonizing it shattered every wall of my resolve.
I saw it.
Champ was going to crush his skull.
No time.
I inhaled sharply, fists clenched so tight they trembled.
"I'm sorry, Melior..." I whispered. "But I'm not leaving him."
And then—I charged.
My body moved on instinct, heart screaming louder than thought.
I rammed my fist into Champ's side with all the strength I had, just enough to break his grip and send him staggering. Silver dropped from his hands like a ragdoll, and Melior dashed forward to catch him before he hit the ground.
I stared as Champ's body fell—then slowly rose again, golden light flickering around him as he stood, towering and unyielding.
And then...
I smiled.
A broken smile. A defiant one.
"I know you can hear me, Champ..." I said quietly, taking a step forward. "Do you remember when we first met? I told you I wanted to beat you fair and square, remember? No cheating. No shortcuts."
My fists clenched again.
"Well, here's your chance. You're stronger than ever. This is your best form. Fight me now—with everything you've got."
He moved.
In a flash, he lunged toward me.
This time—I didn't hold back.
Our fists collided like thunder, echoing through the room with every strike. Blow after blow, our bodies clashed like titans, the air crackling from the sheer force of it. Every punch Champ threw was laced with something inhuman, something monstrous.
But I met him head-on.
For the first time in our lives, we fought.
Not side by side.
But against each other.
All those times I spent shielding him... I never imagined this moment.
But even now—every punch I threw wasn't to win.
It was to protect him.
I could still see pieces of him—buried under that golden skin, behind those lifeless eyes. The Champ who smiled. The one who laughed awkwardly. Who cared too much, even when he denied it.
If I could just bring him back...
Even for a second.
Even if his face had changed, if his heart had been rewritten—I would still love him.
The sound of our fists crashing together echoed like stormfronts colliding, shockwaves rippling through the floor with every hit.
And then—
"I'm done playing," Nihilex called out, his voice slicing through the chaos. "This show has gone on long enough. Champ, end him. Crush your Alpha."
Champ raised his fist.
And I caught it.
Our hands locked, strength against strength—but he was stronger. Far stronger.
He pushed down, slowly forcing me to my knees, my arms trembling from the pressure.
Then he raised his other fist.
I caught that one too—barely.
But his strength was relentless, and with both fists pressing down, my body buckled.
I couldn't hold him.
And then—
Silver struck again.
From behind, he grabbed Champ, dragging him back, locking his arms around him in a desperate grapple.
It took both of us now—just to keep him from breaking me.
"I can fight him," I whispered to myself. "But I can't bring myself to hurt him..."
Because no matter what he's become, he's still him.
He is my weakness.
The only one I've ever had.
"Deux! Dammit, fight back!" Silver barked, struggling to hold Champ in place. "That's not Champ anymore!"
Before I could reply, Champ drove his knee into my gut—
Hard.
Air escaped my lungs as pain exploded through my abdomen.
Then, in one seamless motion, he spun and kicked behind him—slamming Silver away like a ragdoll.
We both hit the floor hard. Gasping. Writhing. Helpless.
As I clutched my ribs, Champ approached.
Slow. Calm. Icy.
His shadow fell over me as he reached down, grabbing my collar and lifting me effortlessly into the air.
"Champ..." I croaked, throat tightening. "Can't you hear me...?"
No reply.
He just squeezed tighter—cutting off my air, his hand like an iron vice on my neck.
My vision blurred.
"Champ..." I gasped, barely clinging to consciousness. "Please... wake up..."
His fist drew back—
And just then—
A sudden scent. Familiar. Warm. Sharp.
And in the blink of an eye, a force tore me from Champ's grip.
"Mr. Voder?!" I gasped, as the older man yanked me behind him with swift, practiced motion.
"Hold on tight," he said sternly, shielding me with his own body.
Then—
"CHAMP!" a voice thundered from across the hall.
I turned—
And my heart stopped.
"NIHILEX! What the hell did you do to my son?!" Alaric roared, his voice laced with fury and betrayal.
Nihilex only smiled.
"Well, well... the traitorous brother finally shows himself," he mused, calm as a whisper. "I've waited a long time for this, Alaric."
Alaric's hands trembled as he faced his son—
This version of him.
"You've destroyed him..." Alaric whispered, barely holding himself together. "You forced him into this."
"Oh, come now," Nihilex chuckled. "He came to me willingly. He embraced his duty. You were the one who turned your back on destiny."
"You manipulated him!" Alaric roared. "Give me back my son!"
"He can never return to what he was," Nihilex replied smoothly. "That body, that mind... is now a vessel. He is the first true Omega male reborn. He will usher in a new era."
"This is madness!" Alaric snapped.
"To you, maybe. But to me—this is justice," Nihilex replied. "Champ... kill your parents."
"Alaric!" Voder shouted in horror.
Champ turned.
Locked eyes with his father.
And charged.
"Forgive me..." Alaric whispered. "Forgive me, my son."
Just as Champ's fist drew back to strike—
Alaric moved.
Lightning-fast.
Two fingers—index and middle—jabbed into precise pressure points on Champ's body. One near his collarbone. One under the rib. One behind the knee.
Champ staggered—
His body swayed like a tower struck by lightning.
His right knee gave out, slamming into the board with a heavy crack.
Both arms dropped limply to his sides,
Fingers twitching as if caught between obedience and rebellion.
And then—
He froze.
Like a statue carved mid-war.
Unmoving.
Unblinking.
A god paused between commands.
And for a moment—just a moment—we breathed again.
"He may not be stronger than Champ," Voder muttered, "but Alaric's skill is unmatched. He knows how to stop him... without harming him."
"Well done," Nihilex cooed. "Still the warrior, dear brother. But I won't stop. I can't."
He raised a hand.
"Champ—kill him."
Champ was trying to stand.
Despite his right knee buckling from Alaric's pressure point strike, he fought against it—dragging his leg behind him, each step a painful defiance of the body's limits. He wasn't giving up. He was still moving.
Alaric's eyes welled with tears.
He couldn't bear it.
His son—reduced to this. A creature in pain, controlled, dehumanized.
"That's enough!" Alaric shouted, stepping forward, his voice cracking. "Stop turning my son into a monster!"
Without hesitation, he ran to Champ and wrapped his arms around him—clutching him in a tight embrace, as if by sheer force of love he could pull him back. He didn't flinch. He wasn't afraid of what Champ might do.
And for a heartbeat—
Champ froze.
"Champ..." Alaric whispered.
"Don't stop!" Nihilex barked. "Kill Alaric! Kill your mother!"
With his arms still limp from the paralysis, Champ suddenly threw his head back, neck arching violently. He was going to use the only weapon he had left—his skull.
"Alaric! Get away!" Mr. Voder screamed from behind. "He's going to headbutt you!"
But Alaric didn't move.
He held on tighter. Willing to take the blow. Willing to suffer.
That's when Silver, broken and barely standing, pushed himself up with the last shred of his strength—and launched himself forward.
He tackled Alaric to the ground—just in time.
Crack!
Silver's own forehead collided with Champ's in Alaric's place. Bone against bone. Both staggered.
And now, sitting on the ground, Alaric could only watch—his heart in pieces—as his two sons fought one another.
"Please... stop..." Alaric choked, hands trembling as he covered his mouth. "Champ... Silver..."
The sight was unbearable.
"You'd really hurt our mother, Champ?" Silver spat, voice filled with pain and disbelief. "Do you even recognize what you're doing?!"
His rage erupted. He leaned in for another blow, trying to slam his forehead into Champ's again—but Champ retaliated, locking him into the clash.
Blood began to drip between them, running from their bruised skin.
Forehead against forehead. Brother against brother.
"You can't even strike him, can you?" Nihilex said with a smug grin. "He's the perfect weapon—one none of you are willing to destroy."
Mr. Voder turned to Alaric, voice low and desperate. "What do we do? I can't... I can't bring myself to hit him. He's still my son..."
Neither could I.
Even if I had the strength—even if I had the shot—I couldn't do it.
"I'll stop you instead..." Alaric muttered through clenched teeth.
Then he ran straight toward Nihilex.
But the Omega King didn't flinch.
He only smiled.
Alaric's fingers curled into attack position—ready to deliver another precision strike.
But—
Champ moved.
He threw himself between them.
Blocking the blow.
"Champ?!" Alaric gasped, frozen mid-attack.
Nihilex chuckled darkly. "Do you see now, Alaric? You think you can stop me, when even your own son protects me?"
"This isn't of his own will!" Alaric snapped. "You've poisoned his mind!"
"And yet he obeys. And he always will," Nihilex said calmly. "But this... this is starting to bore me. Let's change the game."
"What are you talking about?" Alaric narrowed his eyes.
"You know me, brother. I was never one for brute force." Nihilex tapped the side of his temple. "You know my battles are fought here... with the mind."
"What do you want, Nihilex?" Alaric asked, voice hard.
A smile curled on Nihilex's lips.
"My favorite game... Battle of wits and strategy."
Alaric's eyes widened. His breath caught.
He already knew.
"I want to play chess with you," Nihilex said, like a devil offering a deal. "Just like we used to when we were children."
"Chess?" I asked, confused.
Alaric exhaled sharply, his gaze narrowing.
"What are you planning, Nihilex?" he demanded.
"This isn't just any chess match," Nihilex said. "This... is a Human Chess Match."
"A what?" I muttered, stunned.
"A battlefield where we control the pieces," Nihilex explained. "You'll use your allies. I'll use mine—Champ, and the soldiers of Verilios. And we will command them, just as a king commands his court."
"Alaric knows how to play?" I whispered.
"Yes," Mr. Voder answered gravely. "But if his opponent is Nihilex... this will be a deadly game."
"If you win," Nihilex continued, "Champ will be freed from my control. He'll be yours again."
"And if I lose?" Alaric asked darkly.
"You all become mine. My servants. My sacrifices. Every one of you will die at my feet."
"Don't trust him, Alaric!" Mr. Voder said quickly. "Even if you win, he won't keep his word!"
"You're wrong," Alaric replied. "Nihilex... always keeps his word."
He looked at us—at me, at Silver, at Jiggs still trembling with awe—and nodded.
"I won't let him win," Alaric said with fire in his voice. "I know how Nihilex plays. I've seen his tactics before."
"You really think I'm still the same boy you used to beat at every match?" Nihilex said with a sly grin. "You wound me, brother."
And then—
Snap!
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
The ground rumbled. The air shifted. The light dimmed.
The room changed.
In an instant, glowing neon light flooded the floor beneath us—forming a massive, pulsating chessboard that stretched out in all directions.
Two glowing circles appeared at opposite ends—the thrones for the two players.
"Whoa..." Jiggs gasped in awe. "Verilios tech is insane..."
"Now, Alaric," Nihilex said, stepping toward his circle. "Choose your champions. Your allies including some of my soldiers will be your pawns, rooks, knights, bishops... and I will command my pieces—Champ and the soldiers of Verilios."
"You have five minutes," he added, voice dripping with venomous anticipation. "Choose your army well."
The game had begun.
And it would be nothing like the games they played as children.
...
...
...
Jiggs' POV
"Is this for real?!" I gasped, eyes wide as the glowing chessboard pulsed beneath our feet. "It's like we've been sucked into a video game! It's so cool—except... I don't know whether I should be amazed or absolutely terrified!"
Our team huddled on one end of the board—Team Alaric—gathering for a strategy meeting, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.
"If I may," Melior said, his voice calm but firm, "let me play in your place, Alaric. I've studied Nihilex's patterns. There were times he played chess against me. I can read his strategy."
"I know," Alaric replied gently, "and I trust your mind, Melior. But this... this is brother against brother. And it's Champ at stake. I need to be the one he faces."
A beat passed.
"Then I trust your decision," Mr. Voder said solemnly, his eyes heavy with concern.
"Wait..." I raised a finger hesitantly. "Isn't chess just, like... if you're eaten, you're off the board? Nothing crazy?"
I barely got the words out when—
Nihilex's voice cut through the silence.
Even though I'd spoken in a whisper... he heard me.
"Oh, I forgot to mention..." he said with a wicked grin. "As gamemaster, I make the rules. And in this match, once a piece is captured—it dies. Literally. The piece that defeats them will kill them on the spot."
My stomach dropped.
"If anyone disobeys the commands of their player," Nihilex continued, "all chess pieces on both sides will be executed immediately."
"WHAT?!" I shrieked. "Why the hell is death part of chess?!"
My knees nearly gave out. A moment ago I was geeking out—now I was ready to back out and cry under a table.
Alaric inhaled sharply and stepped forward—his expression hardening.
He wasn't playing anymore.
This was war.
"Deux. Silver," he began. "You'll take the Rook positions."
"The Rooks represent unyielding strength and unwavering stability. Silver, you're a living battering ram—an offensive juggernaut. And Deux... you're the silent wall. Controlled. Unbreakable. When you move... you strike in straight, devastating lines."
Silver grinned with feral glee.
"Just give me someone to smash, Mother," he said. "I'll handle the rest."
"I will follow," Deux said with quiet resolve. "For Champ."
"Melior," Alaric turned, "you'll be my Bishop. Bishops strike diagonally—logic outside the lines."
Melior pushed his glasses up. "You see in straight lines, Nihilex," he muttered. "I see fractals."
"Voder," Alaric said softly, "you'll be our King. You're the heart of this family. If you fall... we lose. We will protect you no matter what."
"If that's what you ask of me..." Voder said, voice tight.
I blinked, tilting my head. "So that makes me... a pawn, right?"
"No," Alaric said. He turned to me, his gaze steady.
"You're the Queen."
"I'M WHAT?!" I squealed. My heart leapt straight out of my chest. "But—I can't fight! I don't even know how to kill! And you're putting me in the most important spot in the whole game?! Are you crazy?!"
I practically started stomping in place like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
"Why me?! Put Mr. Voder in my place! I'll take the King position and just sit there like a fancy paperweight!"
"Relax," Alaric said, his voice surprisingly calm. "There's a reason I chose you. A Queen moves anywhere. Attacks from any side. Unpredictable. Chaotic."
He pointed at me.
"You're all of that, Jiggs."
"Why does that sound like an insult?!" I whined.
"If Nihilex plays two steps ahead," Alaric added, "I'll play four. You'll understand soon enough why you're the Queen. Don't worry—within the board, you'll be granted power. Enough to fight... enough to kill."
I swallowed hard.
"Still not comforting!" I cried.
Before I could panic more, Nihilex turned with a wicked glint in his eye.
"Time's up," he announced. "Planning phase is over."
We all looked up as he stepped onto his glowing circle at the end of the board.
"And because I'm not as deceitful as you think, Alaric, I'll let you choose. Do you want black or white?"
Alaric's eyes burned.
"I'll take black."
"Then I'll take white," Nihilex replied, grinning like the devil had just sealed a pact.
The battlefield was set.
The pieces were chosen.
And now—
The game of death was about to begin.
Within seconds, Alaric stepped into the glowing obsidian circle—his side of the board. As soon as he did, the platform beneath him pulsed with brilliant light, and a disembodied voice echoed around us like a game announcer straight from a virtual arena:
"Player Alaric: Recognized."
Across the board, standing tall in his eerie white circle, was Nihilex—cloaked in dark robes that fluttered dramatically even though there was zero wind. He looked like the CEO of Death Chess Incorporated, complete with smug villain energy.
"Player Nihilex: Recognized."
And just like that, we all began to move.
Not of our own will.
It was like invisible strings pulled our limbs—our bodies responding not to our minds, but to the mental commands of our player.
For us, that was Alaric.
Our stoic, brooding, emotionally constipated (but low-key hot) Omega mom.
Nihilex controlled his own living chess pieces, and one by one, we began to glide across the neon-lit grid and take our positions.
My body was ice-cold. It wasn't just the overwhelming darkness surrounding us or the unsettling hum of machinery—it was the tension.
The kind that made your bladder nervous.
"Are you certain of your pieces?" Nihilex called out, smirking from across the board.
Alaric didn't answer. He just stared straight ahead—expression unreadable, soul armored.
As the Verilios soldiers marched to their positions, I glanced across the board—
And my heart dropped.
"Wait—WHAT?! They made Champ their Queen?! That's cheating! I'm not fighting him! I REFUSE to get murdered by my own friend!" I screamed.
"You won't," Alaric said softly.
"Promise me that or I swear I'll poop right here, right now!" I wailed.
Then—
FLASH!
All the neon lights exploded in brightness.
A signal.
The match had officially begun.
The battlefield glowed with a deadly elegance. The grid shimmered like starlight on black glass.
Mr. Voder stood calm, fists clenched, the heartbeat of our team.
Deux looked like he was carved out of steel—still and deadly.
Silver paced restlessly, like a lion held back from the hunt, eyes blazing with fury.
Melior's gaze scanned everything, tracking the board with machine-like calculation.
And me?
I was sweating, shaking, and very, very close to peeing and pooping at the same time.
"I hate this," I whispered to no one in particular.
The rest of the board was filled with Verilios soldiers—faceless, cold, replaceable.
And yet... I couldn't take my eyes off the Queen on the white side.
Champ.
My chest tightened.
"Tell me, Alaric..." Nihilex called out, his voice like silk dipped in poison. "Do you remember the first game we ever played together?"
"You cheated," Alaric said flatly. "And I let you win."
Nihilex chuckled, "As it should have been."
"White player's turn."
The system voice echoed.
Nihilex grinned, then gave his command.
"Pawn at C2... advance to C4."
One of his soldiers stepped forward, every movement deliberate.
The metallic clink of his armor was like the ticking of a death clock.
With every step forward, the tile beneath him lit up blood red.
System Voice: "Move confirmed."
"Black player's turn."
A chime rang softly.
Alaric exhaled next to me.
"Pawn to D5."
One of our Beta soldiers began to march forward—nervous, shaky, but brave. His armor shimmered as he stepped into the light.
And then...
"White player's turn."
Nihilex's grin widened.
"Pawn from C4... eliminate pawn at D5."
I didn't even have time to shout.
The Verilios pawn lunged forward—and with a sickening CRUNCH, his halberd stabbed through our pawn's chest. Blood sprayed across the board.
He didn't stop.
He stabbed again.
And again.
Until there was nothing left but a broken body lying on a crimson tile.
I staggered back. My legs turned to jelly.
"WHAT KIND OF GAME IS THIS?!" I screeched. "Can I please—PLEASE—sit this one out, Sir Alaric?! I'm allergic to death!"
I looked down at the dead body still steaming in the center of the board.
We hadn't even lasted one round.
What the hell was this?
"Black player's turn."
Alaric said nothing, but I could see the calculations ticking behind his cold gaze.
If I were him... I'd reinforce the center. Tighten the grip before Nihilex seizes control. His next move should be—
"Black knight, move to C6," he said.
YES! That's what I was thinking too!
A smart move. The knight leapt over the board and landed with a thud.
Strategic. Clean. Controlled.
"White player's turn."
"Knight to C3," Nihilex commanded.
He was playing aggressively—trying to seize the board.
"Black player's turn."
"Knight to F6," Alaric said.
Another bold move.
Now we had two knights covering the board's heart.
It did three things: pressured the center, prepped for defense, and screamed, I am calm and calculated and you can't break me.
It was a war of intellect.
Of presence.
Of dominance.
"You don't disappoint," Nihilex cooed. "You're still good at this, Alaric."
"White player's turn."
"Pawn to E4."
And just like that... he made a mistake.
He pushed the pawn too early. Too deep.
It was vulnerable. Wide open. And the knight on F6... was ready.
"Black player's turn."
Alaric's lips barely moved.
"Knight on F6—take the pawn at E4."
I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard the sound—metal piercing flesh.
A Verilios soldier screamed—a sound sharp and guttural, like metal scraping against bone.
I snapped my eyes open.
He was already down.
His body collapsed in a heap of armor and bloodless flesh, limbs sprawled like a broken marionette. No twitch. No final gasp. Just stillness.
Lifeless.
Then something unbelievable happened.
Nihilex flinched.
Not much—but enough.
The corner of his eye twitched, barely a ripple beneath his composure. His obsidian fingers, always so elegantly poised, curled—just slightly—into trembling claws. And for the first time since this nightmare began, he blinked.
A full, deliberate blink.
He didn't scream. Didn't lash out. Didn't crack.
But I saw it.
We all saw it.
That one micro-movement was the equivalent of a scream in his world.
Because Alaric... wasn't just here to survive.
He was playing to win.
And Nihilex knew it.
He was here to destroy a legacy.
To reclaim his son.
To rewrite fate.
And the board...
Was just getting started.
...
Fast-forward.
Not a gentle one.
Not the kind where the montage is cute and backed by a heroic anthem.
No.
This was bloodshed in high speed.
Verilios soldiers collapsed like dominoes made of flesh and armor.
Our Beta allies were shredded, one by one, as if the board itself demanded sacrifice.
Even Melior's bishop square was painted with red streaks—blood—while he mumbled equations to himself like a stressed-out professor mid-breakdown during exam week.
"If diagonal control collapses at B4, then theoretically—oh gods, I need a triple espresso," Melior muttered, hands twitching as he tried not to scream.
He wanted to shout strategy—but he couldn't.
Not in this game.
Because if he spoke too loudly, Nihilex would hear it.
And anything said aloud... became his advantage.
So we could only do one thing.
Trust Alaric.
And then—there was Champ.
Still standing.
Motionless.
Beautiful and terrifying.
He looked like something sculpted by a god—then rebuilt in a tech lab by someone with control issues and unresolved trauma.
His skin pulsed with a faint, golden glow—like embers beneath glass.
His eyes were vacant.
Lifeless.
Not even a flicker of recognition.
No blink.
No twitch.
No soul.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't feel.
He stood there, a vessel of raw power barely caged, humming with restrained violence—like static bleeding from a broken star, threatening to detonate at the slightest touch.
Then—
Chime.
A soft tone echoed across the field.
The lights dimmed. The board held its breath.
The next turn had come.
System Voice: "Black to move. Rook piece eligible."
Deux and Silver turned.
They stood like armored titans—storm clouds waiting to be unleashed.
"Say the word," Deux said, eyes narrowed.
"I've been itching to kill since move one, Mother," Silver grinned, his knuckles cracking.
Alaric hesitated.
Only for a breath.
But in a battlefield ruled by seconds, even the slightest pause could mean everything.
His gaze hovered over the glowing board, scanning the rows of light, the positions, the possible sacrifices.
Because whichever Rook he commanded next...
Would enter Champ's lane.
A straight path.
Unavoidable.
A direct confrontation with the one piece none of us wanted to face.
It wasn't just a move—it was a line in the sand.
A gamble.
A blood pact.
A choice between death... glory... or both.
My chest tightened.
I held my breath without realizing it.
Even Mr. Voder—gentle, merciful Mr. Voder—tensed behind his King's square, his normally relaxed hands now clenched into trembling fists.
This was no longer a match.
It was the moment.
The axis of fate tilting.
The board teetering on the edge of reversal—or total collapse.
And then—
Alaric lifted his gaze.
Slowly. Deliberately.
His eyes, shadowed by the weight of the war, met the battlefield not with fear—
But with something deeper.
Gravity. The pull of fate tightening around him.
Love. Fierce, unspoken, etched into every breath he took for those he protected.
Consequence. The understanding that one wrong move wouldn't just cost a piece—
It would cost everything.
He didn't tremble.
He didn't hesitate.
He stood as he always had—
An unshakable storm on the edge of silence.
His voice, when it came, was smooth but weighted—like steel draped in silk.
"...Silver. You're up."
He hadn't even finished speaking when—
BOOM.
Silver exploded forward like a cannonball with muscles, charging across his lane toward an enemy Bishop. He tackled the poor Verilios piece and began pounding him without mercy.
Left.
Right.
Crunch.
Blood.
"I volunteer to move every turn! Just let me finish them all off myself!" he shouted mid-punch.
Blood sprayed. The Bishop's helmet cracked.
And Silver stood panting—grinning like a man who'd just won a lottery for violence.
Now, the battlefield had shifted.
Team Alaric had more pieces on the board.
The advantage had tipped.
Silver's rampage had created momentum.
And if Alaric played this right—if he kept pushing—
He could force Nihilex into a corner.
But then... Nihilex whispered something.
"Queen," he said with a grin, "eliminate the Bishop."
My heart stopped.
"Wait—hold on!" I yelped, panic clawing up my throat.
Champ moved.
Fast.
Too fast for the eye to track—
A golden blur streaking across the board like a lightning bolt dressed in war.
He didn't walk.
He pierced the battlefield—
Slicing through light, space, and sound like a bullet forged from godfire.
And he was headed straight for—
A Bishop.
There were two in his path.
One of them... was Melior.
Melior stiffened, hands trembling, whispering formulas under his breath as if equations could shield him from death.
He squared his shoulders, bracing for impact.
But—
Champ bypassed him.
He didn't even glance.
Instead, he veered with cold precision toward the second Bishop.
Closer.
Easier.
And without a single pause—
He struck.
"I thought that was it. I thought that was my last theorem," he whispered, eyes clenched.
Nihilex smirked.
"It wouldn't be any fun if you died too soon, Melior," he said darkly.
But now—
Now Champ stood squarely in the same row as Deux.
They were in the same lane.
Facing each other.
Two unstoppable forces.
Locked in a line.
And next up—
Black's turn.
If Alaric chose to strike...
He could end the game.
Champ was exposed.
Right there.
Deux could lunge forward and take the Queen.
But—
The cost?
Deux would be eaten by a Knight in retaliation.
A suicidal trade.
Nihilex had done it on purpose.
He placed Champ where we could kill him—but not without losing someone in return.
A cruel, strategic trap.
Alaric exhaled.
I turned to him in terror.
"Don't tell me... he's going to command Deux to attack?!" I gasped. "He'll die!"
Alaric's jaw tightened.
And then—
"...Deux," he said.
I froze.
"No, no no—!"
But he didn't give that order.
"Move to C5," he commanded.
Deux shifted—not toward Champ, but to another tile.
And then—
System Voice: "Check. White player's turn."
We all blinked.
"...Wait. What?" I said.
Then—like lightning behind my eyes—
It hit me.
A blindspot. A single misstep in a game of gods and monsters.
In Nihilex's obsessive push for control—his hunger to dominate every line, every square—
He overreached.
One of his pawns, inched too far forward. A subtle move. A quiet advance.
But in doing so...
He left a hole.
And in that hole—
Stood his King.
Right there.
Directly in Deux's line of fire.
No shield.
No backup.
No escape.
The King was exposed.
Vulnerable.
And doomed.
And for the first time...
The game didn't feel impossible.
It felt winnable.
"YES! GO GO GO!" I shouted, nearly jumping out of my square like a caffeinated squirrel.
Across the board, Nihilex's gaze sharpened like a blade.
His jaw tightened, the muscle twitching just once.
There was no smug grin this time.
No arrogant chuckle.
No theatrical monologue or dramatic flourish.
He just stood there.
Silent.
Still.
Stone.
And in villain terms?
That was rage.
Pure. Boiling. Contained.
Because when a villain doesn't gloat?
It means they've been wounded.
And now—they're recalculating how to make you bleed for it.
And then—
Nihilex made his move.
To protect his king, he sacrificed another piece.
A smart defensive play—on the surface.
But Alaric wasn't done.
Without hesitation, he advanced Deux once more—
And struck.
System Voice: "Check. White player's turn."
Nihilex was cornered again.
Piece by piece, Alaric was dismantling him.
With calm. With calculation. With purpose.
"Black player advantage... Predicted victory threshold: 81%."
"YES!" I yelled. "We're kicking villain ass!"
But then—
Nihilex smiled.
That snake. That stitched-up Omega tyrant with a god complex and a cheat manual.
"How predictable," he said smoothly. "Even when you're winning, Alaric, you cling to the rules. Admirable, really. You haven't changed a bit."
His grin widened.
"But you know I'm the game master... and that means I make the rules."
Alaric's eyes narrowed, locking on him like a blade waiting to cut.
"I'd like to introduce a new rule," Nihilex declared.
"Cheater!" I shouted without thinking.
Nihilex's head snapped toward me. His finger pointed.
My soul almost left my body.
"JOKE! JOKE ONLY!" I squeaked, smiling through pure fear.
He raised one hand.
Snap.
Just one sharp sound—
And reality cracked.
The board screamed.
Lights burst.
Tiles shattered.
The air rippled like the game itself was glitching, tearing at the seams.
System Voice (glitching): "Warning. Unauthorized Override. Rule Construct Rewriting."
"Oh HELL no! You can't rewrite the board mid-match!" I shrieked. "You're losing! This is sore loser energy at its peak!"
But Nihilex wasn't even looking at me anymore.
His eyes were locked on Alaric.
"You've proven your tactics, Alaric. Bravo. But this was never about intellect," he said. "This is about instability. Chaos. Instinct."
He raised his hand again, this time higher.
"So let's see how your Queen does in your place. I challenge... the Queen."
Wait.
Queen?
That's ME.
Hold on.
Since WHEN do chess games have challenges?!
This isn't a party game!
Before I could scream, a blinding white beam shot from the board—
BOOM.
Alaric was teleported from his pedestal.
And a beam of light suddenly struck me.
"He's rewriting the system!" Alaric shouted.
System Voice (glitching): "New player designated... Beta Subject... Jiggs."
My heart stopped.
My square lit up.
Everything around me froze.
The air went silent.
I was no longer a piece.
I... was the player.
In the span of a heartbeat, reality bent—twisting like glass under heat.
The world glitched.
Colors inverted.
Sound folded inward.
And when the light settled—
Alaric and I had switched places.
He now stood where I had once trembled—on the Queen's square, tall and radiant, like a blade forged from memory and fire.
And me?
I was on the pedestal.
The command post.
The eye of the storm.
The mind behind the army.
The grid pulsed beneath my boots like a living thing.
My friends stood frozen in position—waiting for direction.
Their lives... now in my hands.
Mr. Voder stood tall as the King—our anchor.
Our heart.
My army was wounded.
Exhausted.
But unbroken.
And across the battlefield...
Nihilex grinned.
Like he just handed a loaded gun to a Beta with anxiety issues and watched for fireworks.
"You're unrefined. Emotional. Unstable," he sneered at me, "That's why this will be... entertaining. One mistake, and your loved ones die."
His voice turned cold.
"This swap is final. You'll be the player until the game ends. Let's see if a Beta like you... can handle the weight of war."
I stared.
Frozen.
Shaking.
But then—I looked at Alaric.
Now the Queen.
He met my eyes.
And smiled.
"I told you, Jiggs... I have to think four steps ahead," he said. "I knew Nihilex would change the rules mid-game. This was one of the possibilities I predicted. I thought—what if he forces a new player?"
He took a breath.
"And you were my first choice."
My throat clenched.
Tears pricked my eyes.
"You trust me that much?" I asked.
"I trust your mind," Alaric said. "The same way Champ trusts you. You're unpredictable, brilliant... and exactly what this game needs."
A lump rose in my throat.
I wiped my eyes.
Straightened my shoulders.
And then—
I grinned.
"Big mistake, Omega King," I said, stepping forward, voice full of heat. "I may be scared of blood and suck at punching, but when it comes to brain games?"
I pointed at him.
"I am the chaos. I am the curveball."
I lifted my chin.
"I'm the Mysterious Man—the genius Beta mastermind of Aurivelle."
Cue dramatic lights.
Cue electric pulse through the board.
Let the second half begin.
Jiggs versus Nihilex.
And this time—
It's personal.
Mind versus mind, battle of wits and strategy!
End of Chapter 50