Pa!

Ka-da—

Pa!

Ka-da—

Professor Montreya sat cross-legged beside the stone platform, leaning his head and staring at the chessboard on the platform, moving the chess pieces slowly.

Except, he was the only one beside the chessboard.

Every time he moved a piece, the timer on the side of the chessboard would automatically emit a crisp ’ka-da’ sound, after which the chessboard silently rotated a full circle, presenting the other side of the game to the player.

"—When I realized Nyah’s experiment had failed, I immediately wanted to seek your advice, Professor."

In the dim cave, Thomas silently knelt behind the professor’s side, his body mostly engulfed in the cave’s shadows, and his voice was particularly subdued against the monotonous background sound of the timer’s ka-da: "...I didn’t know what to do. But in the end, I restrained this thought. Because I knew this trouble was brought upon by myself, so the final decision must be made by me. That’s why I didn’t tell anyone. This way, at least I can control this matter...or rather, keep this matter’s troubles within my scope."

While speaking, he kept his head down, and others couldn’t see his expression.

His left hand held a raven mask, and his right had two wide-mouth bottles placed beside him, one containing a transparent amber in which was embedded a thumb-sized piece of fresh flesh, and the other a blood bag surrounded by crushed ice, light white mist gathered at the mouth of the bottle, seemingly ready to spill out at any second.

Ka-da—

The timer sounded again, the chessboard turned smoothly once more, Professor Montreya picked up the black stallion piece, pondered for a long while, and ultimately did not place it down: "...You mentioned ’control’, do you know what control truly is?"

Thomas raised his head, taking a glance at the professor who was engrossed in his game.

This mode of conversation was very familiar to him, as professors at school always took this tone, so he knew his answers were not important; what the professor wanted to say next was the key.

"...Just like playing chess."

Sure enough, the thought flashed through the former assistant’s mind, making his ears stand straighter.

"—Most people think ’control’ is the player controlling the pieces on the chessboard, but for truly powerful players, control means controlling the win or lose of the board. If you want to win games, and keep winning, the only way is to play against oneself."

Saying this, Professor Montreya placed down the knight piece and whispered: "—Checkmate."

The White Queen sighed deeply, took off her crown, and threw it at the feet of the black horse, the black pieces on the chessboard cheered in unison while the white pieces fell to the ground, sobbing.

"—In this game, I am the black pieces, and I am also the white pieces."

The professor looked meaningfully at the slightly distracted young warlock: "I can win, and I can lose; for me, winning or losing is irrelevant to the result; it’s just a choice. With enough time, I can even achieve a double win. Like how Wallace Stevens said — I am the world I walk through, my sights, sounds, and feelings come from myself — the only thing to note is not to focus excessively on one’s own identity. When your gaze is limited to one color, it becomes easy to overlook the other color’s pieces."

"How do I play against myself then?" Thomas couldn’t help but ask.

Professor Montreya shook his head.

"In the current game, both you and Gan Ning have already lost your white pieces’ identity."

He waved his hand, and the pieces on the board instantly ceased cheering and crying, neatly rearranging themselves within the crisscrossed squares, the Black Knight sheathing his longsword, the White Queen picked up her crown: "...But playing only black pieces isn’t all bad. Black has the advantage of the first move; every step you take will prompt the white pieces to carefully respond.

Back to this incident.

You were like a white pawn on the board that suddenly turned into a black piece, approaching the White Queen unexpectedly, catching everyone off guard. And now you want to shoulder this responsibility on your own, is it possible? The white pieces won’t lay down their arms because a black piece wants to take responsibility, and the black pieces won’t choose peaceful coexistence with the white pieces just because they gained an ally. So, stop talking childish nonsense, put on your mask, and become a true raven."

Thomas picked up the mask on his left side.

He sighed lightly.

The rhythmic sound of chess playing filled his ears.

When the timer ’ka-da’d once more, Professor Montreya suddenly spoke: "Tom, do you know why I like ravens?"

"Because they’re often misunderstood as ominous," Thomas answered without hesitation.

"That’s one reason, but not all."

The professor nodded, then shook his head: "Because these lovely elves symbolize wisdom, art, and the harmony between magic and nature. They stand on Odin’s two shoulders, one representing thought, the other memory; during those dark thousand years, they saved the mortal world on the brink of collapse. Do you remember the phrase I often told you? Death turns us into angels, making wings sprout from our shoulder blades, which used to be raven claws.

I don’t expect you to save the world.

But I hope you can be like the two ravens on Odin’s shoulders, maintaining the balance between rules and freedom. I know you always thought I was strict, wanting rules in the lab, so this loss of control makes you a bit fearful.

This emotion is unnecessary.

For true ravens, acting at will isn’t wrong as long as you know you’re still within the pre-set rules. Just like our laboratories outside school — all sorts of signs show they’ve departed from school rules, but you and I, and the other ravens, all know these experiments still adhere to our original rules.

So, stop blaming yourself.

Furthermore, this adventure wasn’t without value; you’ve sacrificed yourself to provide us with the most precious experimental material we’ve longed for, which holds significant meaning for us all.

If you wish to learn something from my years of life experience, I’d say, you’re more likely to regret not doing something at a certain point than regret what you’ve already done."

Clearly, this final statement was about something else.

Thomas, feeling much better now, showed a hint of blush: "...Don’t you think we were wrong?"

"In many choices, whether the result is right or wrong, doing it is better than not doing it." The professor moved the white bishop one square, glancing at the assistant looking slightly disheveled: "—Don’t kneel here anymore, go change into a new robe, use a new robe to greet the brand-new world outside."