London was no longer the city of hope it once was. Since Caius Albright's defeat in the "World Chess War," the city had become a grim shadow of itself, controlled by Russian soldiers who treated the people of London like puppets. Amidst the chaos, a skinny teenager, Elias Albright, walked slowly through the narrow alleys. His clothes were torn, and the soles of his shoes were barely holding on.
His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten anything in two days except for a piece of stale bread he found in a trash can. "Is this what life's like as the son of a national chess champion?" Elias muttered, staring at a worn-out coin in his hand.
He headed toward the black market, a place where all kinds of illegal activities thrived—from selling stolen goods to small-time gambling. In one corner, he heard the excited cheers of a crowd.
"Chess?" Elias walked closer, curiosity tugging at him. A group of men had gathered around a small table, with a chessboard in the center. Money was scattered across the table as players took turns challenging an old man who looked like an expert.
"Just five pounds to challenge him!" one of the spectators shouted. "Win, and you double your money!"
Elias patted his pocket. Five pounds was all he had left. It was crazy, but his empty stomach urged him on. With a false sense of confidence, he stepped up to the table.
"This kid wants to play?" a large man sneered, laughing.
"Why not? Maybe the kid's a genius, just like his old man," another man chimed in, making everyone burst into laughter.
Hearing his father's name, Caius Albright, only made Elias clench his fists in anger. "I'll play," he said firmly.
The game didn't last long. Elias opened with a reckless move, leaving his pieces vulnerable right from the start. Within ten moves, his opponent smirked and said, "Checkmate."
Elias froze. His money was gone. The crowd erupted in cheers and jeers.
"Even Caius's son can't play chess! Like father, like son—total failure!" someone shouted.
Elias felt his blood boil. "Shut up! I just made a mistake!" he yelled back, but the taunts only grew louder.
He kicked the chair in frustration, but his opponent just smirked. "Kid, this isn't a game for idiots. Go home and learn how to be a proper person first."
Angry and humiliated, Elias slammed his fist on the table, causing a commotion. In the chaos, his eyes landed on the pile of cash sitting at the edge of the table. Without thinking, he grabbed a handful of notes and ran.
"THIEF!" shouts rang out behind him as Elias sprinted as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. The men chasing him were bigger and faster, but desperation pushed Elias forward.
He darted through narrow alleys, climbed over trash bins, and finally found a hiding spot behind an old, crumbling building. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he clutched the stolen money tightly in his hands.
From his hiding spot, he could hear the men yelling after him.
"Not only is he a thief, but he's also Caius's loser son! Like father, like son!"
"The Albrights are just a family of failures! Keep them away from a chessboard forever!"
Their words cut deep. Elias felt tears stream down his face, though he wasn't sure if it was from exhaustion, anger, or shame.
He eventually found a place to sleep—a dark alley that reeked of garbage. His stomach was still empty, and the money he stole wasn't enough for a decent meal.
From his pocket, he pulled out a wooden chess king, a piece that once belonged to his father. On its base, the name Caius Albright was carved.
"This chess piece is worth more than I am right now," Elias muttered, spinning the piece between his fingers. "Dad, you lost the game, but I lost at life."
He looked up at the night sky, where only a few stars were visible. The taunts from earlier played over and over in his head, but something else stirred within him—an ember of anger and a burning desire to prove everyone wrong.
Clutching the chess king tightly, Elias made a silent vow. "I'm not letting our name get dragged through the dirt anymore. If I have to become a chess master to shut them all up, then so be it. Just watch me, world."
That night, Elias fell asleep with an empty stomach but a new sense of purpose. In that dark alley, the chess king in his hand became a symbol of slow but certain revival. He knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy.
[ ELIAS' TURNING POINT ]
London was as gloomy as ever, but that morning felt colder for Elias Albright. His stomach growled in hunger, but he was used to it. Clutching his father's chess king piece tightly in his hand, he wandered back to the place that was once his home.
What used to be his house was now nothing but ruins, filled with broken wood and shattered glass. This was where he used to play with his siblings, listen to his father's stories of chess victories, and eat dinner under candlelight. Now, it was just a graveyard of bitter memories.
Elias rummaged through the wreckage—not for nostalgia, but for anything useful. He pried open an old box, nearly buried beneath the rubble. Dust filled the air as he pulled it out.
"Huh? What's this?" Elias muttered, carefully opening the box. Inside, he found an old, worn-out book, its cover barely holding together.
On the front, the title read: "The Albright Gambit: Chess Strategies by Caius Albright."
Elias' heart pounded. This was his father's book, filled with notes and strategies that made his name famous. On the first page, a handwritten inscription read:
"For the Albright family—Chess is both an art and a weapon."
Elias held the book in his trembling hands. "Dad…" he whispered.
That night, he returned to his shelter in a narrow alley. Under the dim glow of a streetlamp, he opened the book and began to read. Every page was filled with chess diagrams, notes, and strategies.
"Openings are like the gates of war," Elias murmured, reading a section about the first moves. "If you make the wrong step, you're dead."