Chapter 10: The Chessboard of Fate

A massive board stretched out before Luke, etched into the stone floor like the bones of some ancient giant. He could still see the trapdoors opening, burned into his memory like the afterimage of lightning.

For a split second, he considered making a run for the chest. Or leaping onto one of the statues lining the walls. But his body already knew what his mind refused to accept: that wouldn’t work. This challenge didn’t play by human logic. No shortcuts. No tricks. No exploits.

If he stepped on the wrong square, the floor would reject him. Simple as that. This wasn’t a test of cleverness. It was a test of understanding. He looked down. Alternating tiles: light and dark. He stood on a light square. His breathing picked up. Sweat trickled down his spine.

I thought this was just about grabbing the key!

His gaze shifted toward the throne. The boss sat there—still as a statue, silent as a corpse in regal repose. Luke’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession. He glanced back. The barred gate still sealed the exit.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

Panic hit like a storm surge. His thoughts spiraled. Vision narrowed. Breathing turned ragged. And then…

“Pay attention.” The voice boomed from all directions at once.

He spun around, startled. The statues. All of them. Mouths open. Eyes locked on him.

“We will speak only once.”

Luke forced himself to meet their gaze. They weren’t just statues. They were judges. Witnesses. Executioners. The voice, now a chorus, spoke in unison: “I am the most common piece. I always move straight at first… but I can become something greater. What am I?”

His heart froze. A riddle?

“Now make your move.” The sound of grinding stone echoed across the temple. Statues turned, pointing toward the chest.

Move? This was a game?

Before he could think any further: “Ten… nine.”

The countdown began. The voices grew louder with every beat. “Eight.”

The board trembled beneath his feet.

Oh god.

“Seven.”

His thoughts were slipping. Board. King’s Game. Riddle. Move.

“Six.”

He couldn’t breathe. His lungs seized.

“Five.”

“Four.”

His heart pounded like a war drum.

“Three.”

“Two.”

The riddle spun through his head: “I’m the most common piece. I move straight at first. But I can become something greater.” The final number loomed like a blade. In a burst of instinct, Luke jumped two squares forward.

“One.”

And all the other tiles dropped. Trapdoors. Darkness. But the square beneath his feet held. Solid. Stable. Everything else slammed shut again. Quiet. Undisturbed. Like nothing had ever happened. Luke stood frozen, staring at the void that could’ve been his grave. Then, slowly… triumph crept into his mind like a warm wind through a frozen field.

It worked.

He could hardly believe it. The answer had been simple: Pawn. Now he understood how the game worked. He had to solve the riddle, identify the piece it described… and then move to one of the squares that piece could reach, based on his current position.

The name King’s Game was the hint. This was a chessboard. The riddle revealed the piece. The move was up to him. The pawn could move two squares forward on its first move. That’s what saved him.

The statues stared at him with hollow eyes. “I am a piece that always leaps over others and has a peculiar movement. Who am I?”

Their stone heads turned slowly, pointing once again toward the chest.

“Make your move.”

“Ten.”

The countdown echoed like the toll of a bell before an execution.

“Nine.”

“Eight.”

Luke froze. His mind exploded with possibilities. It’s the Knight!

The piece that moved in an L-shape. But unlike the Pawn, the Knight had multiple directions. His options multiplied—and he was lost in all of them.

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“Seven.”

“Six.”

The ground vibrated beneath him. Even the square he stood on began to tremble. The trapdoors groaned. Where do I go?!

“Five.”

“Four.”

Luke looked at the statues, desperate for a clue. They all still pointed toward the chest. He drew in a long breath. Shut the panic down.

“Three.”

“Two.”

And moved. A jump forward, then a sharp right. He traced the mental L mid-air and landed on the new square.

“One.”

Trapdoors slammed open. The abyss stared back at him—cold, silent. Almost… patient. But the square under his feet held firm. So did one other, just one—the only one that followed the same pattern.

I did it.

The Knight could reach up to eight squares depending on position. Luke filtered for the one that advanced him closest to the goal and gambled. Luck stayed with him. His heart didn’t. It raced, wild and unchecked.

The statues turned again. “I am a piece that always stays on one color, yet moves freely in one direction. Who am I?”

They pointed.

“Ten.”

The floor shook.