Kairos sat in silence, his fingers interlocked beneath his chin. His expression was unreadable, but the weight of his thoughts was evident.
"You didn't want him to suffer like you do?" Valkos asked his tone low.
Kairos remained silent. He did not need to answer. The truth lay bare between them.
"I understand what you mean," Valkos admitted after a long pause. He stood up and went into his room. Moments later, he returned carrying a chess mat and a plastic container filled with chess pieces.
"I know you're not in the best of moods, but care for a game?" he asked as he began clearing the floor, pushing aside books and papers.
Kairos exhaled slowly. "Sure thing, Instructor." He joined in clearing the space.
Once the floor was set, Valkos carefully spread the chess mat and placed the pieces in their rightful positions. "That should do," he murmured, more to himself than to Kairos.
Kairos settled across from him. "Shall we begin, Instructor?"
"Let's see if you can still humiliate me," Valkos said, cracking a wry smile.
The game began. Kairos moved with precision, his strategy flawless. Four moves later, the match was over.
"Smothered mate," Kairos announced in a low voice.
Valkos sighed, rubbing his temples. "Playing with you is pointless." He stared at the chess mat. "It's like you've mastered every possible outcome. You only needed the knight to end me."
"It's not just mastery," Kairos explained. "It's about improvisation."
Valkos scoffed. "Improvisation, huh? Funny. I don't think I've ever seen you improvise in this game. No one has ever forced you to."
Kairos opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. Valkos was right. No one had ever put him in a situation where he needed to adapt. He had always relied on his knowledge, his calculated methods. But what if…?
An idea sparked in his mind. "What if I play you blindfolded?"
Valkos chuckled. "You think you can beat me without seeing the board? That's pushing it, even for you."
Kairos said nothing. He reached for a cloth from the couch and tied it around his eyes. "Let's find out."
Valkos stared at him in disbelief. "You're serious?"
Kairos nodded. "I'll call out my moves. You'll execute them exactly as I say. But I don't need to know your moves. Just play."
Valkos hesitated, then smirked. "Alright. Let's see how this goes." He reset the pieces.
The match began again. Kairos opened aggressively, attempting to end the game in four moves—Scholar's Mate. But this time, Valkos had protected his king.
"Are you sure that wasn't checkmate?" Kairos asked.
"No, boy."
Kairos tried again. He cycled through every strategy he knew, but something felt off. Without sight, he could not predict the board's shifting state. He was playing by memory, not by adaptation. And then—
"Checkmate!" Valkos declared, his voice brimming with triumph. He moved his queen, delivering the final blow. "I never thought I'd say this, but I finally beat you!"
Kairos removed the blindfold. The chess mat came into focus. The checkmate was unmistakable. A faint chuckle escaped his lips. So, this was the flaw he had ignored.
He had lost—not because Valkos had improved, but because he himself had never practiced improvisation. When thrown into an unfamiliar situation, he faltered. The very principle he believed governed the game was nothing more than a self-imposed limit that he had not bothered to practice.
A bitter realization set in. This was why he could not save Gilen. He had relied solely on manipulation, but what use was that in Gilen's situation? He had needed something more—an alternative path, an adaptation to the circumstances. But he had none.
Kairos had been sanctimonious, preaching about personal growth, adaptability, and facing reality. Yet, when it mattered most, he had failed to apply his own philosophy.
He exhaled, leaning back against the wall. If he truly wished to take down the Demon Kingdom and end its oppression, he needed more than just intellect. He needed to improvise, he needed not only individuals he could manipulate, but also allies—people who shared his vision, who could challenge him, push him beyond his limits.
Kairos looked up at Valkos, a newfound determination in his eyes. "Instructor… thank you."
Valkos raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For teaching me a lesson I should have learned long ago."
Valkos smirked, though he had no idea of what Kairos really meant. "Took you long enough, kid."
After a while Kairos rose to his feet. "Instructor, I'm leaving now," he said, his voice low. "I need to get home. I'm sure Mya and My—"
Instructor Valko raised a hand, stopping him mid-sentence.
Kairos sighed. "My mother is waiting for me."
"It was good having you here, Kairos," Valko said. His tone was calm, yet firm. "And remember—don't let what happened to Gilen drag you down." He paused. "Your mother and sister need you to be strong. You're the only man in the house." Valko placed a heavy hand on Kairos's shoulder. "Males don't have the luxury of showing weakness. We carry our burdens in silence."
Kairos nodded. "I understand, Instructor."
He turned, opened the door, and stepped outside. The door shut behind him with a quiet thud. He stood still for a moment, staring at it, his thoughts lingering on Valko.
Instructor Valko never spoke about his past. Yet, in his own way, he had always looked out for Kairos. Not just as a teacher, but as something more—scolding him when he was wrong, guiding him when he was lost.
Kairos exhaled and walked away.