Capítulo 34: The Weight of Expectations
Elio, utterly exhausted, scans the room with furrowed brows, his breath heavy. His eyes dart around the dimly lit space, frustration creeping in. "Uriel?" he mutters under his breath, a hint of irritation seeping into his voice. His shoulders sag as he glances at the doorway, wondering where the elusive figure could have vanished to. He rubs his temples, exhaling deeply, trying to regain his composure.
Meanwhile, in another room, the air is thick with tension. Arata and Uriel sit across from each other, their eyes locked in an intense, unblinking stare. Neither moves, their expressions hardened, almost predatory. The room feels colder, quieter, as if holding its breath for what comes next. It's a silent battle, not just of wits but of will, their faces mirroring the determination of two gunslingers in a standoff. The only sound is the soft clinking of chess pieces as they methodically execute their strategies, their movements slow, deliberate, like coiled springs waiting to release.
"Checkmate!" Uriel announces with a calm certainty, his voice cutting through the silence. Arata exhales deeply, his shoulders dropping as disappointment washes over him. His eyes linger on the board, replaying the steps in his mind, searching for the missed opportunity. With a furrowed brow, he finally looks up at Uriel. "Why are we playing chess instead of training?" he asks, frustration evident in his tone.
Uriel meets Arata's gaze with an unwavering calm. "It's to build your mental fortitude," Uriel explains, his voice steady and patient, as though he's delivering a lesson Arata can't yet fully grasp. Arata frowns, rubbing his forehead as if trying to massage the confusion out of his mind. "I have no idea how this will build my mental fortitude," he admits, his voice laced with doubt.
Uriel, unfazed, casually taps the shield badge pinned to his chest. "You have 10-15 days to beat me, so take your time," he says with a slight smirk. The badge gleams under the dim light, a symbol of Uriel's mastery. "If you beat me, I will give you my badge." He holds it up for Arata to see, the emblem reflecting a sense of pride and responsibility. It's more than just metal; it's the representation of Uriel's authority and mentorship over Arata. Butter's cat badge, which Arata earned, feels small in comparison.
Uriel turns and walks away with calm, purposeful steps, leaving Arata alone with his thoughts. Arata takes a long, deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. "Mental fortitude, huh?" he mutters to himself, the words heavy with uncertainty. Without missing a beat, he drops to the floor, balancing on one hand as he starts doing push-ups. Each movement is slow and deliberate, his muscles straining as his mind races. Doubt creeps in with every push-up. His body is strong, but his mind, he wonders, is it up to the challenge? "Was this the right choice?" he questions himself, his breath coming in steady, rhythmic paces.
Somewhere else, tension simmers in the air. 'You missed once again!' Paulie's voice cuts through the silence, firm but not unkind. Carly grits her teeth, frustration gnawing at her as she watches the cardboard target zoom across the distance, moving far too fast for the human eye to track. Even in her enhanced Ringmaster form, Carly struggles to keep up with its erratic speed, her aim faltering with each attempt.
Her breath quickens, and anger rises like a flame. 'THIS IS FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE!' Carly's shout echoes across the training ground, her hands gripping the sniper rifle so tightly her knuckles turn white. Every miss feels like a failure, a reminder that she hasn't yet lived up to her mother's expectations.
Paulie, unshaken, watches Carly with a calm, almost serene expression. 'It's not,' she responds with a quiet certainty, her voice steady and unruffled. Carly spins around, disbelief and irritation flashing in her eyes. 'Oh really? Can you do it?' she snaps, challenging her mother, the weight of her words heavy with defiance.
Paulie chuckles softly, her confidence unshaken by her daughter's frustration. She steps forward and gently takes the sniper rifle from Carly's hands. The weapon feels familiar in her grasp, a creation of her own design, built during her time as a Ringmaster. There's a connection between her and the rifle, a shared history that Carly can't yet understand.
Paulie brings the rifle up to her shoulder, her movements deliberate and smooth. She peers through the scope, her eye narrowing with laser focus. Her breathing slows, her body still as stone. One eye remains shut, as motionless as the rest of her. Every muscle in her body is perfectly aligned, minimizing any unnecessary movement. She inhales deeply through her nose, her mouth sealed shut, her focus razor-sharp.
BANG.
The gunshot echoes through the air, and the fast-moving target jerks violently as the bullet strikes it square in the head. Carly stands frozen, her eyes wide with shock. 'What the…' Carly mutters, her voice trailing off, stunned by what she just witnessed. Her mother had pulled off the impossible, a feat Carly hadn't been able to achieve even with her Ringmaster powers. The disbelief in Carly's voice lingers, her mind racing to grasp the gap between them."
As for Arata, the days dragged on, each one blurring into the next as he pushed his body to its limits. His physical training was rigorous—muscles aching, sweat pouring—but it was nothing compared to the mental exhaustion that weighed him down. Every evening, Arata faced off against Uriel in chess, playing nearly ten matches a day, each one ending in his defeat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't manage to win even a single match. The repeated failures began to chip away at his spirit, leaving him feeling hollow and drained.
Arata's mind raced with strategies, desperate to find a weakness in Uriel's play. He tried focusing on Uriel's queen, thinking that by eliminating the most powerful piece, he could gain an upper hand. But it was a trap. Every time he went for the queen, Uriel would lure him into a corner, and within a few moves, Arata would find himself in checkmate. The realization stung. The queen wasn't the key to victory—it was a decoy.
Frustration gnawed at Arata as he switched tactics. In one match, he successfully captured Uriel's queen early on, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest. For a brief moment, he thought he finally had the advantage. But Uriel's knights quickly dismantled his defenses, cutting through Arata's pieces with precision. It didn't matter that the queen was gone—Uriel's knights were all he needed to claim victory.
Another time, Arata thought he had neutralized Uriel's knights, feeling confident as he watched them fall. But just when he thought he had gained ground, Uriel's bishops swept across the board like swift, silent assassins, leaving Arata cornered once again. It was as if every piece Uriel controlled held more power than Arata could comprehend. No matter what Arata did, no matter how many strategies he devised, Uriel was always ten steps ahead.
The constant losses began to take their toll. Arata could feel his mind fraying at the edges, the weight of nearly a hundred defeats pressing down on him. Every time he sat down for another match, a sinking feeling took root in his gut. His confidence had long since eroded, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. The chessboard no longer felt like a game; it felt like a battlefield where Arata was endlessly outmatched, fighting a war he couldn't win. The mental strain seeped into everything he did, turning his once-sharp focus into a cloud of doubt and fatigue.
One night, a sudden gust of wind stirred Arata awake. He blinked groggily, only to see the Queen standing by the window, her figure bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Her presence felt both ethereal and commanding, as if she were a part of the night itself. Without turning to face him, she broke the silence. "You don't know how to play chess?" Her voice was gentle, almost curious, as she gazed out at the moon.
Arata sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Not really. I never took an interest in that game," he admitted with a small shrug, his voice tinged with a hint of weariness. But then, a thoughtful expression crossed his face. "Though, this... oddly feels soothing, you know?"
The Queen tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Hmm?" she murmured, finally glancing at Arata.
"It reminds me of when I was a kid," Arata said quietly, his gaze distant as he delved into a long-forgotten memory. "I have this vague memory of a strange uncle who always wanted to play chess with me. I don't remember much of my childhood before my family adopted me, but there are fragments... little pieces of who I was." He chuckled softly, though there was a hint of sadness behind it. "I remember getting so frustrated. I never beat him either."
The Queen's expression softened as she turned back to the moon, her eyes reflecting the distant glow. "Uriel..." she began, her voice trailing off in a fond recollection. "He used to love playing chess with Sheena and her son." A quiet chuckle escaped her lips as she spoke of Uriel, her tone filled with a kind of bittersweet nostalgia. "Uriel never beat Sheena, but he did beat her son a lot."
Arata listened intently, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. The Queen smiled faintly, her mind drifting to the past. "I remember Sheena's son saying he would one day beat Uriel," she continued, the memory bringing a soft warmth to her voice.
"What happened to Sheena and her son?" Arata asked gently, sensing the importance of the story but not wanting to pry too deeply.
The Queen's demeanor shifted, her tone becoming more serious as she considered his question. "I will tell you someday, Arata. When everyone accepts you. When everyone trusts you," she said solemnly. "It's not a matter for me to share alone but for each and every one of us."
Arata nodded slowly, respect in his eyes as he understood the weight of her words. "I understand," he replied, his voice filled with mutual respect for her choice.
The Queen sighed softly, her eyes searching Arata's face for any sign of doubt. "I will understand if you want to drop out of this challenge right now and—"
Before she could finish, Arata cut her off, his voice calm but resolute. "I won't." His eyes met hers, filled with a determination that struck the Queen deeply.
She blinked, taken aback by the familiar intensity in his gaze. "The same eyes... the same look Sheena had when she rescued us..." the Queen whispered, almost to herself. Her voice trembled slightly, as if old wounds had been reopened. She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Ryuki Arata... Can I ask you something?"
Arata's heart skipped a beat. He sensed the weight behind her question, and a knot of unease tightened in his chest. "Go ahead..." he said, swallowing hard, bracing himself for what was to come.
The Queen's eyes searched his face, her expression unreadable as she asked the question that had been lingering in her mind. "Are you by any chance... Sheena's son?"
Her words hit Arata like a heavy weight, the question hanging in the air like an unanswered riddle. He felt a strange pressure in his chest, a mixture of confusion and uncertainty swirling inside him. After a moment, he smiled—a small, bittersweet smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I don't know whose son I am, Queen," he said softly. "All I know is... the parents that raised me, they are the most important to me. I don't remember anything beyond the time they found me... buried under some rubble and saved me at a hospital."
His words trailed off, a quiet sadness lingering in the air as he reflected on the few memories he had. "That's all that I remember," he finished, his voice calm but laced with an unspoken yearning for the answers he couldn't find.
The Queen nodded slowly, understanding his pain. "Sorry... weird question," she murmured, forcing a small, fake smile that didn't quite hide the conflict in her heart. She turned to leave, her footsteps quiet as she began to walk away.
Before she could exit the room, Arata's voice stopped her. "I will defeat Uriel," he declared, his tone firm, filled with renewed determination. "Five days is more than enough."
The Queen paused, turning back to look at him. This time, her smile was genuine, filled with both pride and hope. "Good. I expect nothing less from you, Arata," she said, her voice warm as she took her leave.
Arata sat on the floor of his room, his mind racing with possibilities. He brought out the mobile Butter had given him. The device was old, scratched around the edges, but functional. No SIM for calls, but it had internet access. He stared at the screen, his reflection distorted by the faint light from the screen. Chess videos. Hundreds of them. Arata clicked on one, then another, absorbing strategies, tactics, and techniques as if they were lifelines. He watched intently, eyes narrowed with concentration. His fingers traced the moves on an imaginary board, mimicking what he saw.
By the time the sun began to rise, Day 11 had arrived. Arata walked into the room where Uriel waited, the board already set up, pieces gleaming in the morning light. Arata's gaze was different—more focused, sharper. He opened with a bold move, trying to put Uriel on the defensive right from the start. For the first time, Uriel's brow furrowed slightly, acknowledging the pressure Arata was applying. But Uriel's responses were swift and precise. No matter how much Arata pressed, Uriel seemed to find a way to neutralize every threat. By the end, Arata had lost again, but this time, something was different. The frustration he usually felt was muted. He had learned something.
Day 12 began with a sense of anticipation. Arata entered the room with newfound confidence. His movements across the board were quicker, more decisive. He had started recognizing Uriel's patterns, anticipating his counters. As the game unfolded, Arata began to seize small advantages—an extra pawn here, a better position there. His heart raced as he gained material, taking Uriel's knight in a trade that left him in a stronger position. But when the endgame arrived, Arata's inexperience showed. He struggled to close out the match, missing key opportunities, and Uriel pounced on his mistakes with surgical precision. Another loss, but closer than ever before.
Day 13 felt different from the start. Arata's mind was sharp, the strategies he had studied began to align in his head. Every move he made felt more deliberate, more calculated. He watched Uriel closely, searching for any sign of weakness, any opportunity to exploit. The game was intense—each piece moved with purpose, each capture a step closer to victory. For the first time, Arata felt like he was in control. He cornered Uriel's pieces, forcing him into tough decisions. Arata's heart pounded in his chest, excitement coursing through him as he sensed his first true chance at victory.
But then, it happened. One misstep—a single blunder that cost him a critical piece. He froze for a second, disbelief washing over him. The realization hit like a punch to the gut. Uriel capitalized instantly, turning the tables with cold precision.
"FUCKKKK!!!!" Arata roared, slamming his fists against the ground. His chest heaved with frustration, his face contorted in agony. He had been so close—victory was right there, just beyond his reach.
Uriel, calm as ever, looked at Arata with a small, knowing smile. "You almost had me there... You have a good mental fortitude. Keep going, and you might defeat me someday… Maybe even in the next two days."
Arata's anger slowly melted away, replaced by a quiet determination. He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He finally had it within his grasp—the victory he had been craving for so long. And now, with everything he had learned, he knew it was only a matter of time.
Day 14 began with a mixture of hope and dread. Arata walked into the room where Uriel awaited, his body sore from the relentless training, his mind clouded from hours of sleepless nights. The chessboard was no longer just a game to him—it had become a battlefield, a war of willpower. As they played, Arata found himself getting close again, moving his pieces with newfound confidence, but then, just like before, a simple blunder would undo all his efforts. His hand would hover over the pieces, shaking with hesitation, and every mistake felt like a dagger to his spirit. Uriel, unflinching, countered each blunder with ruthless efficiency. Arata's frustration built up inside him, a pressure cooker on the verge of exploding.
Day 15 arrived, and with it, the weight of knowing that this was his last chance. Ten matches remained, and Arata was determined to make every move count. But as the hours ticked by, each game ended the same way—with Uriel's calm voice declaring checkmate, and Arata staring blankly at the board, wondering what went wrong. Each loss chipped away at his resolve, but his stubbornness refused to let him quit. He couldn't—this wasn't just about the game anymore. It was about proving something to himself, to Uriel, to everyone who believed in him.
Uriel sighed after the tenth match, disappointment etched in his features. "Should've known I put too much trust into you. I thought you could defeat me—"
Before Uriel could finish, Arata interrupted, his voice hoarse but resolute. "One more…" His eyes were locked on the board, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
"What?" Uriel looked at him, confused.
"I SAID ONE MORE MATCH!" Arata's voice erupted, filled with desperation and determination. Uriel hesitated but relented, setting the pieces back in place. They began again, and again, Arata lost. But this time, he didn't sigh or show frustration. Instead, he looked up at Uriel with fire in his eyes. "Another…I want another."
Uriel's brow furrowed, but he obliged. Match after match, Arata kept losing, each defeat a blow to his pride. But instead of giving up, he demanded more. "Another!" he repeated, his voice strained but unwavering. The cycle continued—Arata losing, Uriel resetting the board, over and over, until they had played nearly thirty matches.
By now, Uriel's patience was wearing thin. His once steady hands moved with slight hesitation, the fatigue of the endless matches starting to weigh on him. His mental fortitude, usually unshakable, began to crack under the relentless pressure of Arata's demands. Arata, on the other hand, had entered a trance-like state. Each loss no longer felt like a setback; it was fuel for his resolve. His movements became sharper, his mind clearer, as if the act of losing was hardening his focus.
Then, in the final match, something clicked. Arata saw it—a path to victory. His hands moved with newfound precision, his mind blocking out every distraction. The room was silent except for the soft clinks of the chess pieces being moved. And then, finally, it happened.
"Checkmate…" Uriel's voice faltered as he stared at the board in disbelief.
Arata blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, it hit him all at once—the realization, the overwhelming sense of victory. He jumped up from his seat, fists pumping in the air. "YESSSSS!!!!" he screamed, his voice echoing through the room, pure joy and relief flooding through him. All the exhaustion, the frustration, and the doubt melted away in that single moment of triumph.
Though Uriel's face was hidden in the shadows, the slight lift in his posture and the way his shoulders relaxed gave away the smile he couldn't suppress. Despite his typically stoic nature, even he couldn't deny the pride swelling within him at Arata's progression. This moment wasn't just a victory for Arata; it was a testament to the grueling path he had chosen to walk—a path that Uriel had guided him through, pushing him to his limits. Without a word, Uriel reached into his pocket and carefully placed the shield badge on the table. The metal gleamed under the dim light, a symbol of Arata's hard-earned achievement.
Uriel's footsteps echoed softly as he turned to leave. He paused at the door, his back to Arata, and in a voice laced with quiet satisfaction, he simply said, "Good job." Then, without waiting for a response, Uriel disappeared into the corridor, leaving Arata alone in the room.
Arata stood there, staring at the badge for a long moment, the weight of everything that had just transpired sinking in. He reached out slowly, his fingers trembling slightly as they closed around the cool metal. He lifted the badge to eye level, inspecting every detail, every scratch, and every engraving. This wasn't just a piece of metal to him—this was a symbol of the mental fortitude he had built, the struggles he had endured, and the progress he had made. A small, genuine smile crept onto his face, a mixture of relief and pride. He held the badge tightly in his palm, feeling its solid weight, a reminder of his victory.
"Two down," Arata whispered to himself, his voice steady, filled with determination. He allowed himself one final glance at the badge before tucking it safely away. "Three to go…" His smile widened slightly as he turned toward the door, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
Arata clenched the badge tightly in his fist, the weight of it reminding him of the immense mental struggle he had just overcome. Uriel's challenge had pushed him to the brink, testing every ounce of his patience, focus, and resolve. But now, as he stared down the path ahead, he knew that this was only the beginning. The real battles were yet to come, and the worst mentors were still waiting in the shadows.
He could feel a shift in the air—a sense of looming dread. Cheese and Lance were still out there, their lessons shrouded in mystery. Unlike Uriel's cerebral torment, Arata sensed that what lay ahead would be far more brutal, more raw, and perhaps even more devastating. His mind wandered to the thought of what kind of trials they had in store for him. What new challenges would they force him to face, and would he be ready when the time came?
As Arata looked around the empty training room, the silence weighed on him. He wasn't the only one on this journey. Elsewhere, his allies were fighting their own battles, each of them training relentlessly to grow stronger. The distant sound of gunshots, metal clashing, and the grunt of exertion echoed faintly through the corridors. Everyone had a purpose, whether it was to be prepared for the coming war or to ensure that when Arata needed them, they'd be ready to stand by his side. Their own struggles ran parallel to his, and though they were apart, their shared goal unified them.
Arata exhaled deeply, pushing back the creeping fatigue that threatened to consume him. This was just the beginning, he reminded himself. He could feel it in his bones—every muscle, every thought, and every emotion was preparing for what was to come. The battles, the trials, and the burdens—they would all weigh heavier as time went on. But now, standing in this quiet room with Uriel's badge in his hand, he was ready to face whatever lay in the shadows.
This was just the beginning.
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