Novel Full Chapter 150: Unexpected Wager (2)
Chapter 150: Unexpected Wager (2)
Independent quests are typically tied to key individuals. While not every named character has one, those of real significance tend to have at least one quest. Yet, in all the scenarios I’ve experienced, I’ve never come across an independent quest for Sophien—the most pivotal figure in this world.
“If you win, I’ll grant you a wish,” Sophien said.
I looked at Sophien. Her words held the force of a definitive declaration.
“Your Majesty, regardless of how it’s presented, offering to grant a wish—”
“Hmph,” Sophien scoffed at Kreto’s attempt to dissuade her, lifting a finger with a sharp flick. “However.”
That pale, slender finger pointed straight at me. It was clear she had taken my challenge to heart.
Sophien’s fingertip glowed faintly with a soft aura as she demanded, “And if you lose? What will you offer in return?”
I paused briefly, unsure if ten days of training would be enough to overcome her. The answer would only come once we faced off. But with this being Sophien’s independent quest, backing down simply wasn’t an option.
“I have nothing to offer you, Your Majesty,” I responded.
“What?” Sophien said, her brow knitting in displeasure. “You speak with such arrogance, and now you think you can walk away without facing the consequences—”
“As a noble of the Empire, my loyalty has always been pledged to Your Majesty. Should Your Majesty wish to claim anything from me, I am ready to offer it without hesitation. My desire has always been, and will always be, to serve your will.”
Sophien paused, her lips tightening as she leaned in, watching me closely, as if weighing my sincerity.
There wasn’t a hint of deceit in my words, not a trace of dishonesty. This was simply part of who I was. Deculein’s Elitism came from his unwavering belief in the hierarchy of bloodlines—while he looked down on those beneath him, he had only reverence and respect for those above.
To Deculein, no one deserved more respect than Sophien. His loyalty was steadfast, something he was designed to embody.
“… Enough,” Sophien muttered, clicking her tongue as she leaned back in her chair. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she snapped open the lid of the Go container. “Let’s see your playing strength, Deculein. White or black? The choice is yours.”
“I’ll take white, Your Majesty,” I said, selecting the white stones.
Kreto’s curiosity deepened as he glanced back and forth between Sophien and me, eager to see how things would unfold.
“Very well,” Sophien said as she placed the black stones in front of her, the quiet clatter of them filling the room. “Let the match begin.”
Sophien placed the first stone on the board, marking the beginning of the match.
Tap—
Sophien placed her first stone at the star point in the lower-right corner, a strategic opening move.
Tap—
I placed my stone on the star point in the upper-left corner, and without hesitation, Sophien followed with her move, placing her stone at the small point in the lower-left.
“Hmph,” Sophien scoffed as Kreto, notebook in hand, intently noted each move with focused attention.
Tap— Tap— Tap—
The Go stones landed softly, like raindrops tapping gently on the board. The early stages of the match unfolded without flourish, each move following the next in a quiet, steady rhythm…
***
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh—!”
Epherene and Sylvia dashed frantically, the ground trembling behind them with every heavy impact.
Boom—!Boom—! Boom—! Boom—!
A tiger. Its massive, muscular frame made the earth quake with every thunderous stride.
For the first time in her life, Epherene witnessed the sheer majesty and mana of a tiger. At last, she understood why the phrase “terror of tigers and disease” was so deeply ingrained in the continent’s lore—why the beast was so feared and why countless legends and tales revolved around it.
“Ahhhhhhh—!”
Epherene’s scream echoed through the air, her memories flashing before her eyes, her life rushing past like a comet streaking across a darkened sky. In the next instant, a sharp slap landed on her forehead.
“Quiet down, you fool.”
It was Sylvia. She had created a barrier behind them, likely in an attempt to stop the tiger. But with a single swipe of its paw, the beast tore through it as if it were nothing more than paper.
“Ahh—! That giant orange monster—!”
“Be quiet,” Sylvia said.
The barrier was nothing more than a distraction. As the debris scattered, it momentarily blinded the tiger. Seizing the opportunity, Sylvia erased the ground beneath its feet. The floor vanished in a heartbeat, like a swift stroke of an eraser, leaving the beast hovering in midair. The outcome was clear—the tiger would soon plummet into the void.
Grrrrrr—!
The tiger did not fall. Its paws pressed against the air as though it were solid ground, and with a powerful thrust from its hind legs, it ascended, soaring like a wave breaking free from the earth.
Boom—!
A shockwave erupted from its leap, the force rippling through the sky. When Epherene glanced back, her sanity wavered. The tiger wasn’t just running—it was tearing through the air itself, trampling the fabric of space as it charged forward.
“This way,” Sylvia said.
But Sylvia hadn’t made a mistake. She had never underestimated the tiger’s strength; she had been waiting for this very moment all along.
Boom—!
With precise timing, she erased the ground beneath them once more, just as the tiger’s claws narrowly missed grazing the top of her head.
Crash—! Crackle-crack-crack-crack—!
The tiger immediately crashed through the ceiling in pursuit, but Sylvia pressed forward without hesitation, clearing a path as they fled. She left behind scattered footprints, faint scents, and traces of mana in every direction, throwing the tiger off course.
Sylvia placed decoys and formed walls, shaping the surroundings into a labyrinth. However, she avoided setting traps that might provoke the tiger—fully aware that enraging such a creature would be a dangerous misstep.
“Huff. Huff…”
“Phew.”
They somehow escaped, both Epherene and Sylvia panting heavily, utterly drained after fifteen relentless minutes of chase.
“Wow, my heart’s pounding… Oh, right,” Epherene panted, still catching her breath. Then her eyes fell on Sylvia’s mangled fingers, torn and bloody. “Sylvia, your fingers…”
Sylvia silently waved her mana brush, and new fingers formed in place of the mangled ones, restoring her hand to its original state. She flexed them a few times, opening and closing her fist, then nodded in approval.
Epherene’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she asked, “Will they stay that way?”
“They’re part of me,” Sylvia replied. “The healing outpaces the mana use, so they’ll last permanently.”
“… I’m relieved to hear that.”
Sylvia remained silent.
Noticing Sylvia’s silence, Epherene hesitated before asking, “Where are we… exactly?”
“The Voice,” Sylvia said.
“The Voice?”
“A world you enter through the medium of a voice,” Sylvia responded.
“Ah! Demons?!”
Rohakan had explained it to her before—a world inhabited by demons, one that random individuals could enter at any time, using the medium of a voice as their gateway to the world of demons.
Epherene asked once more, “And that tiger we just encountered—what about it?”
“It likely came through someone’s voice as well,” Sylvia replied.
“… I see.”
That explanation clicked. After all, a beast’s roar could be considered a voice, too.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Epherene said as a thought crossed her mind. She reached into her pocket and pulled out two coins, their metallic clink echoing softly. They were the ones Rohakan had given her earlier.
“Where did you get those?” Sylvia asked, her surprise uncharacteristically evident.
“Rohakan gave them to me. What are they for?”
“Those coins are the currency used in this world.”
“… Ah. I see. Here, one’s for you,” Epherene said, offering one of the coins to Sylvia, who took it without hesitation. “So, what do you use them for?”
“Follow me,” Sylvia said, slipping the coin into her pocket as she stood up, guiding Epherene down the corridor.
They walked under a sign labeled Non-Combat Zone, crossing paths with a few people as they continued onward.
No one paid them any attention, but Epherene whispered a warning, “Hey, watch out for the tiger… it’s still around…”
“Here,” Sylvia said.
They soon arrived at a bustling area, reminiscent of a busy marketplace or plaza. Sylvia wove her way through the crowd, leading Epherene until they stopped before a shop marked with the sign—Soul Shop.
“You can spend the coins in places like this,” Sylvia said.
The store displayed an array of strange items, from Magic Elixirs and Potions of Maturity to Perfumes of Charm and even Voodoo Dolls.
… However, Sylvia’s attention was locked on a single display—The Voice of the Dead.
Epherene shot a careful glance at Sylvia before quietly saying, “Hey.”
Sylvia turned toward her, face unreadable, and simply asked, “What?”
“About… your mother… Did Professor really—”
Did Deculein really kill your mother?
Epherene wanted to speak, but her voice failed her. Unable to form the words, she simply lowered her head.
“I don’t remember,” Sylvia replied, her voice as cold and distant as ever.
“… Huh?”
“My mom’s voice.”
“… Oh.”
“I want to hear it again. I feel like it’ll help me remember.”
Sylvia’s voice was calm, almost detached, yet Epherene grasped the emotions behind it—though even saying she could grasp them felt like an overstatement. After all, she had been able to hold onto her father’s memory for years through video and voice messages.
“… Yeah. I understand, I really do,” Epherene said softly as she reached out and rested a hand on Sylvia’s shoulder.
Sylvia quickly shrugged off the gesture, her eyes narrowing in clear displeasure.
“Ahem, my bad,” Epherene muttered, awkwardly clearing her throat before shutting her eyes for a brief second and…
“I think I’ve discovered something interesting. Take a look—this stone has a magic code hidden inside,” Drent said.
“… Oh?”
The scene shifted in an instant. Epherene blinked and found herself alone—Sylvia had disappeared, and she was now back on the special floor of the Mage Tower, far removed from the World of the Voice.
“Look at this,” Drent said, thrusting a notebook toward her. “I’ll explain everything.”
Only one coin remained in her hand, not two. This meant it wasn’t just a dream.
“Hey, Leaf. Look at it.”
Epherene smirked at being called Leaf again, casting a glance up at Drent. A pulse beat sharply at her temple, veins forming a cross-like pattern beneath her skin.
“No, Drent, stop calling me Leaf-you-tard, it’s not like I wanted to be late! You won’t believe what just happened—there was a tiger, a real one!”
“… What are you talking about? … And why’d you call me a retard? I’m your senior, after all, you know—”
“I didn’t call you that! I just said to stop calling me Leaf-you-tard, because tardiness is key, and I really hate being late!”
“You once again called me a retard—”
“Then don’t call me Leaf-you-tard, Drent.”
“… Okay. I’m sorry.”
***
“… Hmm.”
Meanwhile, Sophien observed Deculein carefully. His posture at the Go board was as graceful as a poised crane, and each movement, as he placed the stones, carried an air of quiet elegance and precision.
In the distant Eastern Archipelago, they referred to Go as the game of the sages, and the way Deculein moved evoked the grace of the ancient masters illustrated in old scrolls.
His skill was more than just a display—it was exceptional. From his opening strategies to his mid-game tactics and the rhythm of his moves, everything about his play stood out. It was hard to believe that all of this had been refined in only ten days, the level of mastery seeming beyond what anyone could achieve in such a short span of time.
Tap—
To make things stranger, his abilities became even more refined as the game progressed. By the 98th move, in the middle game, his style had transformed, becoming more fluid and natural compared to the start of the game. The rate of his improvement was astonishing.
Although victory was still within her reach, the notion that he had reached this level in just ten days felt almost impossible.
Tap—
Sophien’s body tensed as she watched Deculein’s moves. It wasn’t the fear of losing, but something unfamiliar—a sense of encountering a talent greater than her own, a feeling she had never experienced.
In magic, swordsmanship, and even scholarly pursuits, she had never come across anyone with more potential. Even if others currently surpassed her in skill, she knew she had no Ceiling—no limit to how far she could grow.
However…
Tap—
For the first time in over a century, an unfamiliar emotion stirred within Sophien. In this game of Go, at least, it seemed possible that this man could surpass her…
Tap—
Sophien deliberately left a weakness at the junction between the right side and the center of the board, a trap artfully disguised as an inviting misstep. The brilliance of her strategy dawned on her all at once.
To any observer, it appeared like a careless error, but once her opponent made his move, he would find himself trapped in an inescapable web. She leaned back into her chair, calmly awaiting the inevitable. And just as she anticipated, Deculein took the bait, falling squarely into her carefully laid trap.
“Hmm…”
Tap—
Deculein placed his white stone on the board, the soft click of stone meeting wood resonating through the room. The sound carried a quiet sense of satisfaction to her.
“… Not bad,” Sophien remarked, reclining slightly in her chair as a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
“Is that so?” Deculein responded.
From that moment, the momentum of the game shifted sharply. Deculein, unaware of the trap he’d fallen into, continued to push against the ko[1]. Sophien, on the other hand, skillfully sacrificed pieces of her territory, patiently waiting for the right time to strike.
Then, with a single, calculated move, she captured him completely. The game was over. Deculein’s white stones were immobilized—trapped, with no space left to breathe.
“Is it finished?” Sophien asked in a low, steady voice.
After a brief pause, Deculein calmly placed his final stone in the corner, signaling his defeat. His resignation was measured, composed, and unshaken.
“Oh!” Kreto exclaimed, his eyes shifting between Sophien and Deculein in awe. Though still a beginner, Kreto could see from the Empress’s expression that Deculein had fought remarkably well.
“… Just ten days, and you’ve already come this far,” Sophien said.
With Black’s 153rd move, Sophien secured victory by resignation, though the win brought little satisfaction. As she considered the match, she recognized that Deculein’s earlier arrogance and boldness had, in fact, been well-founded confidence.
“In two months, you could become a worthy opponent.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied calmly, his composure unshaken.
Sophien frowned slightly and said, “You may leave now. Since your challenge had some grounds, I’ll let you off without punishment this time.”
“How about a best-of-five match?” Kreto proposed suddenly. Both Sophien and Deculein turned toward him.
“A best-of-five?” Sophien repeated.
“Yes, Your Majesty. A single game seems far too brief. I’m certain neither of you feel fully satisfied with only a single match. A proper challenge—a best of five—would be fitting. And I, for one, would take the chance to learn by watching you both.”
Sophien drummed her fingers softly against the Go board. Across from her, Deculein silently examined the layout, his eyes drifting over the arrangement of the stones as if replaying each move in his mind.
After a brief pause, Sophien said, “What about it, Deculein? Do you believe you can win against me in a best-of-five?”
Deculein raised his eyes, a flash of light cutting through the blue, sharp as lightning and said, “Yes, Your Majesty. One more loss will be enough to learn. After that, I’ll be able to secure three consecutive victories.”
“Ha.”
Sophien found his arrogance entertaining. Still, for the first time in her life, a trace of uncertainty crept in—there was a chance she might lose. But backing down had never been her way, and defeat was not something she ever feared.
“Good. But if you lose, be prepared to wager your life,” Sophien said with a smile and Deculein nodded calmly in response.
***
On the way back, as we drove through the quiet streets…
“… Oh. It appears this move… must be the critical mistake that’s been made, wouldn’t you say?” Kreto remarked from the seat beside me.
I nodded as Kreto pointed to the 143rd move—Sophien’s trap. I hadn’t seen it coming, but now that I’d learned from it, I wouldn’t fall for the same set up twice.
“Yes, Your Highness. Had I not been caught in the trap, the mistake would have been Her Majesty’s. A rather unfortunate outcome. … A rather unfortunate outcome,” I said.
“Ohh… How impressive. You have mastered the art of strategy, a skill deserving the highest admiration.”
Kreto, who had been admiring moments before, suddenly tensed, his expression growing serious as he asked, “Professor.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Might I ask something that has just come to mind?”
“Of course, Your Highness. You may ask whatever you wish.”
Kreto cleared his throat and swallowed, his discomfort clear. He glanced out the window before casting a quick look at the driver. Whatever was bothering him, I couldn’t quite place it.
To my surprise, he even cast Silence and asked, “Do you, by any chance, hold deep affection for Her Majesty?”
As it was not a particularly difficult question, I responded without hesitation, “Of course, Your Highness. I have always held Her Majesty in the deepest regard.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. Every citizen of the Empire feels the same, of course, ” Kreto took a deep breath and continued, “… What I’m asking is whether your deep affection for Her Majesty is rooted in love—a romantic nature—rather than in respect or loyalty alone?”
I hesitated for a moment, momentarily stunned. But before I could gather my thoughts, he said something even more unusual.
“Well… to be somewhat direct, I’m referring to something resembling a marriage engagement. I hear you are even arranging to dissolve the current one.”
Our eyes locked, the silence thick with tension. As the moments stretched on, Kreto’s face flushed, growing redder with each passing second. He looked as though he might explode.
After a moment, I broke the silence and replied, “Such a notion is beyond me, Your Highness. How could I ever entertain such a thought? I would not dare presume so.”
Kreto let out a strained laugh and said, “Haha, haha… Surely, that’s not the case, right?”
“Certainly, Your Highness. If I may, what has led you to ask such a question?”
“… Um, Her Majesty has directed me to inquire directly because, if you hold deep affection of this kind, it could lead to… delicate consequences.”
I struggled to conceal my disbelief, but with a calm expression, I replied, “Her Majesty must be mistaken. I hold no such feelings, not in the slightest.”
“Ah, what a great comfort that brings me.”
Just then…
“Meow—!”
I heard a faint sound of a cat meowing somewhere.
1. In the context of the game Go, ‘ko’ (呼) refers to a situation where a player can capture a single stone, but if they do, the opponent can immediately capture back, creating a repetitive cycle known as a ‘ko fight.’ ☜