The silence in the room was unnaturally deep now. The shot had been fired, and Jaya's blood still marked the cold floor of the adjacent chamber. The words "Congratulations, you won." still echoed faintly from the digital painting, like a cruel lullaby for the victor.
Vayunesh slowly stood up from his chair, the echo of his movement unnaturally loud in the stillness. His expression was calm, but not empty. His eyes gleamed with the sharpness of a blade honed over years—not by hatred or malice, but by precision. Calculation. Cold design.
He walked toward one of the many digital paintings embedded in the wall of his room—abstract, shifting illustrations that seemed almost alive. This particular one had always caught his eye, but now, it demanded his full attention.
Two beasts were locked in a battle high above the clouds, suspended in a sky that bled red and black. One was a monstrous avian—its feathers long, crimson, and fire-kissed, eyes sharp like obsidian knives, and a jagged beak that seemed built not to sing but to slice. The other was a twin-tailed lion, its body a shade of void-dark, with one tail blazing like ember and the other a cold, flickering shadow. They clashed midair, fury embodied in form—feral divinity against infernal instinct.
Vayunesh reached out and touched the portion of the painting where the bird's beak stretched outward. His fingers lingered for a moment, almost reverently. His lips curved into a soft, almost nostalgic smile.
"Strange," he murmured to himself, "how art sometimes understands us better than people do."
He withdrew his hand and turned back toward the bed in his chamber. With unhurried grace, he laid down, arms behind his head, gazing at the dark ceiling above him. His smile remained—not joyful, not smug, but content. Almost at peace.
But inside, his mind raced—not with guilt, nor regret. Only with anticipation. This was just the first game. The prologue. A simple speech-based showdown to test resolve, morality, and persuasion. And he had passed. Not just by chance—but with mastery.
Every move had been deliberate.
From feigning ignorance in the early minutes when the rules were not yet declared… to acting sympathetic once the game format was revealed. His pauses, his subtle emotional cues, his knowledge from the card that detailed Jaya's painful past—all were precisely chosen. He had sown the seeds of hope in Jaya's mind, only to then let him drown in his own desperation.
"I suppose I'll still fund his mother's surgery," Vayunesh muttered, not out of mercy but because he could. Because it would be interesting. Because power sometimes came in the form of control over life after death.
He chuckled quietly to himself. A dark amusement laced with arrogance, with confidence. No... with dominance.
And then, for a fleeting moment, he saw it again—those two beasts. Not on the screen. Not on the wall. But in his mind. Still fighting. Still locked in eternal war. The twin-tailed lion roaring, and the crimson bird screeching in reply as their claws collided in a cyclone of light and storm.
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he was smiling.
The ceiling above him had not changed.
But the battlefield in his mind had.
And the Game of the Masterminds had only just begun.