In a grand hall in the heart of London, the entire world watched with bated breath. This wasn't just an ordinary chess match. No, this was a war. On one side of the table sat Caius Albright, The UK's national chess champion. With his silver-streaked hair and charismatic demeanor, he was known as the "King of England" in the chess world. On the other side was Ivan Dragovich, a Russian Grandmaster who looked like a Soviet stone statue—cold, sharp, and emotionless.
"Whoever wins takes the world," Ivan said, placing an hourglass on the table.
"And whoever loses, loses everything," Caius replied with a faint smirk, though his hand trembled slightly.
The match lasted six grueling hours. The chessboard became a battlefield, with each chess piece serving as a silent soldier carrying the weight of a nation. Caius opened with his favorite strategy, The English Opening, but Ivan countered with The Russian Defense—a move that oozed Soviet dominance and arrogance.
Cheers erupted from the crowd outside the hall, but inside, there was only silence. Every second ticked by like a knife slicing through the soul. Caius could feel the pressure mounting. Ivan wasn't just playing chess; he was playing with Caius's mind.
"Your final move, Mr. Albright," Ivan said, his thick Russian accent laced with quiet menace as he held his last chess piece.
Caius stared at the board, calculating every possibility—but there was only one outcome.
"Checkmate," Ivan said in a low, commanding voice.
Caius gripped his head, sweat dripping down his brow. He had lost. The UK had lost.
Before he could utter a word, the doors to the hall burst open. A group of Russian soldiers stormed in, their weapons aimed directly at Caius. Ivan gave a single nod, and without warning, gunfire echoed through the hall. Caius collapsed onto the chessboard, his blood staining the very pieces that had been his soldiers moments ago.
The UK now belonged to Russia.
Elsewhere in the city, now under Soviet control, a skinny teenager sat in a tiny room. His name was Elias Albright, the youngest son of Caius. Elias didn't know how to move forward after what had happened. Honestly, he didn't even care.
"Life's just like chess," Elias muttered to himself, stirring a bowl of instant noodles. "Except I'm not the king, or the queen, or even a knight. I'm just… a useless pawn."
Elias was the kind of person who couldn't be bothered to care. After the event known as the "World Chess War," he became a sarcastic, worn-out kid who was fed up with life.
"Imagine… my dad dying because of chess. Chess, of all things! Couldn't it have been something more serious?" Elias chuckled bitterly, glancing at an old chessboard in the corner of his room—the last board his dad ever used.
But that chessboard had its own secrets. Sometimes, Elias felt like the pieces were watching him. But he couldn't be bothered to figure it out.
"My life's basically chess puberty—no direction, no strategy, and full of checkmates," Elias muttered, slurping his almost-hard noodles.