Past Arc 10

Gyulie's hand seized the piece and placed it back on the board without hesitation.

—Mm.

The opponent seated across from Gyulie let out a small groan at the move.

Time passed in silence.

—Resign.

The opponent did not move a piece and resigned.

—Indeed. I had some confidence in my skill, but to be utterly, completely overwhelmed... it’s oddly refreshing.

The words were not spoken to mask disappointment. The opponent smiled, genuinely pleased despite having lost.

Fodouei reached toward the board, attempting to reset the pieces to their initial positions.

—Still playing?

Gyulie spoke with a faintly irritated tone, as Fodouei eagerly sought to continue the match.

She had come to meet Syrius, yet the one who greeted her was the old man before her—still forced to be the opponent in the game.

"Time is abundant. Spending a little on an elderly man nearing the end of his days incurs no penalty."

Indeed, Gyulie, as a dragon, had time in excess.

Playing until Fodouei was satisfied would not be considered wasted time.

Dragons and humans perceive time differently.

A human lifetime is a moment to a dragon.

Humans regard time as finite. Dragons regard it as infinite.

As the dragon herself had said, one could devote oneself entirely to the game until the end of a frail, short-lived human life.

Still, Gyulie thought, watching Fodouei, despite speaking of a short remaining lifespan, the old man seemed stubbornly determined to survive.

Gyulie resigned herself and continued playing against Fodouei.

The game being played between the two is an ancient board game.

Similar to chess or shogi on Earth.

It differs in that it features a greater variety of pieces and a larger board, resulting in greater complexity.

Consequently, a single match requires a significant amount of time.

Professional matches last up to five days.

This match is the seventeenth in the series.

Of course, such a number of games cannot be completed in a single day.

Gyulie has requested meetings with Syrilis over several days, each time playing against Fodouei.

Fodouei’s objective is clear.

He is preventing Gyulie from meeting Syrilis.

Anyone would notice such an overt intent.

Yet Gyulie, aware of this, has no choice but to comply with the old man’s intentions.

This is consistent with her previous actions.

Without demonstrating her sincerity, Fodouei’s trust cannot be earned.

One could meet Sariel if one wished to.

There is no means to stop the dragon, Guriel, no matter how much Fodui attempts to interfere.

But that will not do.

Gyulie must gain the approval of the elder before her.

Not as a dragon, but as someone on the same level.

Without convincing this old man on equal ground, the right to see the same thing as Sariel will surely be denied.

Gurie believes this.

—

The game is already a complete and total victory.

"Stop is not an option?"

Waiting is an illegitimate tactic. There are few moments in life where waiting yields results. That is precisely why humans fear making mistakes.

Upon reflection, he recalls that Fodui had never once initiated a wait.

Yet humans make mistakes. Mistakes inevitably occur. By accumulating these errors, rules are established to prevent further mistakes, gradually reducing their number. Human history is thus the history of mistakes. And from the lessons of that history, we exist today. Even so, mistakes do not disappear.

As he spoke, Fodui moved a piece.

Gyulie immediately countered with a move, returning the turn to Fodui.

Yet Fodui entered deep contemplation, his hand pausing for some time.

And I have not suffered defeats in vain. Each defeat, each failure—learned from. Now, I apply those lessons. This move is the result.

Fodui declared aloud, then moved the piece.

Gyulie responded instantly, shifting one of his own pieces to block the move.

…Even if one eliminates all errors, that does not guarantee a path to the optimal outcome. This is a clear example of that.

The way one phrases things matters.

After seventeen matches, one fact has become clear: Fodui is always quick with his words.

He speaks on topics ranging from trivial banter to subtle remarks that unsettle Gyulie—throughout the game.

Language is said to be humanity’s greatest invention. Human history is, in essence, the record of endlessly twisting logic.

No. That is incorrect.

He often begins speaking in a manner that is difficult to distinguish between sincerity and jest. This makes it easy to be misled by his words.

“There is nothing unusual about it. Because of the absolute existence of dragons, we humans have never relied on force. The final arbiter is force, but the crucial part is the battle of words preceding it. We spent our time twisting logic, figuring out how to persuade the opponent. That is why our tongues have become so sharp.”

“Blame history for your sharp tongue? And please refrain from subtly blaming us dragons.”

In contrast to Gurye’s exasperated expression, Fodooi laughed cheerfully.

“Truly. I’m awed by your constant complaints.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I can win this one.”

The sarcastic remark was lightly dismissed. Fodooi instead grinned, moving his piece with smug confidence.

Gurye immediately countered, forcing the smirk from his face.

“I won’t lose in the game, but I don’t feel I can beat you in words.”

“Indeed. The difference in thought processing speed between human and dragon is undeniable. No matter how many times I challenge you, winning the game is impossible. Strange. Though we use the same mind, I have no chance of victory in games, yet I feel no defeat in argument. Dragons excel in raw calculation, but humans prevail in cunning. That must be it.”

Fodooi stared at the board, yet still wore a faintly pleased expression.

There is no doubt the dragon is great. Yet no matter how great a dragon may be, it must possess weaknesses compared to other creatures. Dragons lack the cunning of humans. They do not need it. They are strong enough without it. They defeat most opponents simply by confronting them directly, openly. No need for deceit. No need for underhanded tactics. That is why dragons never developed such tricks. But that very lack is their complacency. They dismiss lesser beings, and thus fall prey to human deceit. Yes, right before my eyes, a dragon is now struggling—having been lured onto the human battlefield, of its own accord.

Fodooi spoke, as though enjoying himself.

Though the board showed victory, Gyuirei felt an unavoidable sense of defeat in Fodooi’s words.

As if dancing upon the palm of an insignificant, frail old man—viewed from the dragon’s perspective, it was nothing more than that.

And objectively, it was correct.

The dragon, itself, was being manipulated by a lesser being—humanity.

“Humans are cowardly. And more foolish than dragons believe. They accumulate errors throughout history, yet still fail to learn. They keep making the same mistakes. Repeatedly. And worse, each mistake makes them more cunning. Thus, the damage from each error grows greater. A lesson meant to reduce harm, yet it only increases it. How absurd.”

Even as he was rolled about on that palm, Gyuirei’s attempt to face Fodooi from a human perspective was, in fact, a test.

The threshold test required to confront Syrilis.

You have learned the perspective of humanity, despite being a dragon. Even so, it is difficult to claim you truly understand humanity. As I said earlier, humans are far more foolish than dragons assume. It is this foolishness that Lady Sarriel has confronted for a long time.

Fodooi moves a piece.

Gyuirei moves his own piece just as Fodooi releases his.

"Resign."

Fodooi acknowledges his defeat with a serene expression.

"Both divine and human perspectives—only someone with your duality might bring change to Lady Sarriel. Humanity alone can no longer suffice. Yet divinity alone is not enough. One must be divine, yet capable of understanding humanity."

This is the greatest advice a loser can offer a victor.

And a prayer.

"Please, take care of Lady Sarriel."

Gurie did not respond to the old man’s earnest plea with affirmation or denial.