The hall was louder than I expected. Chairs scraped the floor as students moved around, and the air smelled like paper, sweat, and cheap cleaner. Long tables were placed in rows, each with a chessboard in the middle. Pieces were already set, white and black facing each other like they had been waiting all morning.
I found my seat and sat down. The chair felt hard, and the board felt smaller than I remembered. Around me, people whispered.
"Isn't that the playground kid?"
"He looks different now."
I ignored them and rested my hands on my knees. *Focus,* I told myself. *This isn't training. This is real.*
A boy stepped in front of me and held out his hand. He had short hair and sharp eyes, the kind that never stopped moving.
"Ravel," he said.
"Nixxin."
We shook hands. His grip was calm and steady. That alone told me this wouldn't be easy.
The match began.
The first moves were quiet. We both placed pieces carefully, building our sides like walls. Ravel didn't rush. Every time I pushed forward, he answered smoothly, like he was already prepared. I felt pressure, but not panic. This kind of game was about patience.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
The board slowly changed. Pieces left. Space opened. Ravel leaned forward now, his calm face tight with focus. I noticed his fingers tapping the table when he had to think longer than usual.
*He's human,* I thought. *He feels it too.*
Near the end, he made a small mistake. Not a big one. Just a step too far. I didn't attack right away. I tightened my position and waited. When I finally moved, his shoulders dropped.
"…I see it," he said quietly.
A few turns later, he looked up and smiled tiredly. "Good game."
"Good game."
When he walked away, my hands were shaking. I hadn't noticed until it was over.
I sat back down to wait.
The second opponent approached with quick steps and an easy smile.
"I'm Mira," she said. "Don't hold back."
"I won't."
She played fast. Too fast. From the first move, she attacked, pushing forward and forcing me to respond. I was on defense almost the entire game. My pieces were trapped, my space limited.
Someone behind us whispered, "He's losing."
I heard it.
So did Mira.
She smiled wider and pressed harder. At one point, I was sure I had lost. My heart beat loudly in my ears. My hands felt cold.
*Calm down,* I told myself. *She's rushing.*
I stopped trying to win. I focused on surviving.
Minutes passed. Her moves slowed. She frowned, checking the board again and again.
Then she made one mistake.
Just one.
I didn't celebrate. I didn't smile. I fixed my position, turned the pressure back, and waited. When she finally realized what happened, her smile was gone.
"No way…" she whispered.
The end came suddenly. She stared at the board for a long time, then laughed softly.
"I almost had you."
"Yeah," I said. "Almost."
The third match was the hardest.
Halven.
He didn't smile. Didn't speak much. His handshake was stiff.
The game was slow. Painfully slow. Pieces disappeared until the board looked empty. Every move felt heavy. We both knew one mistake would end everything.
Time passed. My back hurt. My eyes burned.
At some point, I thought, *This could be a draw.*
Then I remembered my training. All those long hours. All those lost games.
I waited.
Halven didn't notice it at first. But when he did, it was too late. The balance shifted, slowly but surely. His breathing changed. He sat back, stared, then finally shook his head.
"…You're stubborn."
"I had to be."
When it ended, the hall felt quieter. Not because people left, but because they were watching.