rogue_5

No need to explain it to me. Getting humans to understand one's thoughts is one of the most difficult things under heaven. You speak, but words fail you. They listen, but they do not comprehend. I've seen it many times before.

So leave it to me. I am rather skilled at understanding them and making them feel understood.

Aiya, I don't know when it started, but we've been using the word 'human' when we talk now. It's rather strange.

Yet, without these humans, where would we twelve have come from? The more you think about it, the more it makes sense.

In truth, I've been thinking of something lately, brother, and I may have to trouble you to come up with a strategy.

We twelve have interlinked hearts. If one of our siblings were near, we would know who it is.

But humans are not the same. Even blood relatives may fail to recognize one another, given enough time.

And so, they devised something they call a 'name'.

Special syllables, coupled with characters. The two form a union, one that becomes a unique symbol.

Like intertwined points, but rather more complex.

They're easy to remember, for yourself and for others too. What do you think?

I'd rather not be called 'the Fifth Sui' by humanity my entire life. As if Its mark were still on me.

The ones who create characters helped me think of one to use as a name. Could you read this for me, brother?

I shall write it and recite it for you.

The characters 'Ji' and 'Ye', 'luck' and 'page', come together to form 'Jie'.

Yes, that's right~

It's short and sweet.

Also... It feels somewhat different from communicating by thought alone.

When sounds reach the ear, it is a touch more sincere.

Are there any characters you fancy, brother?

It's rare to see you without words or thoughts. I suppose I'll have to do it for you. Reluctantly, I might add.

Since you love looking out into the distance, how about 'Wang', 'to gaze'?

No laughing; I put a lot of thought into it. When plans do not falter, it's called 'full,' and a full moon is a beauty to gaze at. To observe the future from the present is to look into the distance, and to look into the distance is to gaze. How about it, does it not suit you?

Let me try it out first—

Wang.

It sounds good when read aloud, right?

Now that we're set on this character, anyone on this land will see your jet-and-chalk hair and your yin-and-yang eyes and know what to call you.

Hmm...

Wait, let me see if I can think up anything even more fitting.

Choosing a name is not something to take lightly. Just as how your strategies cannot succeed with only a single move on the board, right?

You say my words have a hidden meaning? I don't know what you mean~

As it so happens, I brought along a human game today.

A board of nineteen lines against nineteen, with myriad variations.

It's a good opportunity to see how your plans play out on a concrete object, brother.

Choose, black or white.

Black... A move for every occasion, letting you win even when behind. Very much your style.

I'll start then~

Yet another loss, yet another sixty years.

As usual, Wang watches the old mandarin he had been playing weiqi with slowly get up and shuffle towards the brazier to warm his hands.

'The next game, I leave to the Grand Tutor who comes after me.'

'You are resigning?'

'Heh, duty and devotion until one's dying day. But after this cycle of sixty, I fear I will not have the strength to come to this temple to play this game with you, with every commoner of this land on the line. The court will select a suitable opponent for you.'

'And as for me...' The old mandarin tends to the fire for a moment before returning to the board.

'There are many grand affairs under Heaven. Matters pertaining to the bestial Sui require a careful touch. Naturally, other concerns will require observation as well. Yan is vast, and your family is not the only thing we must worry about.'

'But it's rare to have the time to chat. So, weiqi failure, anything you wish to speak of, outside of official business?'

Wang looks at the empty board in front of him. He reaches over to his opponent's bowl of stones, taking out a white stone and handing it to the mandarin.

'Why, you... Very well, a quick game.'

The Grand Tutor chooses white, Wang chooses black. Half an hour later, the Yanese minister places a white stone onto the board and departs the ancient temple that acts as Wang's prison, his face relaxed.

After the Grand Tutor leaves, Wang does not tidy the board, but rather sets it aside, stones and all. He takes an empty board and recreates the game of heaven and earth he just lost, move by move, until he validates his theory—

Some of the tactics that arose were completely different from the ones the Grand Tutor usually employed.

Weiqi has always been a game of two players, so where did these novel tactics spring from?

Besides, this game used Yan's domain as the board, and the land's every commoner as the pieces. Not as simple as a game of black and white stones within a square.

The Grand Tutor is certainly unaware of this. After having played against him for decades, Wang knows everything about the man. If he does not know, it is likely the court of Yan is not intervening either.

If the one behind this is the Grand Tutor's successor, then the result should be clear in the next game. If not... Wang deliberates, then begins to plot.

The black stones strike first, making their moves before settling into place. This cycle of sixty years, win or lose, a hundred-and-eighty-one black stones shall be laid out, with only one goal in mind.

He will force White out onto the board.

Two weiqi players are having a game in a pavilion. The black-clad player as Black, the player in the white robe as White. The game has reached its midpoint, and the black-clad man calculates his next move. If he were his former self, he would have made his move long ago, but now—

'What say you, Mr. Wang?'

Wang continues to ponder the changes atop the board.

Ever since the bestial Sui matter had been settled, he and his siblings have lost their powers. His 'cunning plans' are scattered, and he is no longer able to calculate past, present, and future like he used to. The exhaustion and pain after overthinking oft remind him that he is now a mere mortal.

Wang places his stone.

It is now the white-robed youth's turn to ponder, giving Wang the chance to relax. He is surprised by this unfamiliar feeling. Was it a fluke, or has he become complacent? He cannot say for sure. Soon, doubt winds its way around his heart once more. His opponent places his stone, in a place he did not consider.

And so begins another round of endless deliberation by him.

Things have changed. He can no longer reckon the millions and billions of variations of the board with a single glance. But this game is one he must win...

He must obtain that scroll, one devoid of ink and paint.

Two hours ago, Wang saw the scroll in a gallery. It boasted no calligraphy or painting, but everyone who saw it said they could see an indistinct likeness of somebody on its blank face. The moment Wang stepped forward to buy it, another did as well to inquire the price. The two had come forward at the same time, and neither was willing to acquiesce, so they moved to a pavilion in the gallery's rear court to wager it all on a game of weiqi.

By the time they enter the endgame, the sun is about to set. The proprietor of the gallery gives them lamps, stepping forward to peer at what are to be the deciding moves of the game, but the one who is about to place his stone does not move, confusing even the proprietor. Just as he is about to head off, Wang stretches a hand out to his opponent.

'I thank you for your grace.' The white-robed youth wipes the sweat off his brow, placing his stone down on the board before grasping Wang's hand with both of his.

'You're both evenly matched. Not going to keep the game going?'

'No need. I'm sure Mr. Wang here is like me. After running all the calculations, we both know how it will end, right?'

Wang nods.

'Then my scroll—'

The white-robed youth takes the scroll from the proprietor, then solemnly presents it to Wang.

Wang frowns, unsure of what plans are brewing in his opponent's mind.

'Our battle over the scroll earlier was simply because I saw you were a man who knew weiqi, sir, so I came up with this pretense to have a chance to play. If I have offended you, then I beg your forgiveness.'

'I don't know weiqi at all.' Wang stands to receive the scroll, taking out his wallet at the same time to pay the proprietor for the scroll. 'I've simply placed a lot of stones over a long time. You get a knack for it. Besides, this game was my—'

'Just some mutual education, sir. No need to worry about wins or losses.' The white-robed youth interrupts Wang. 'I've loved weiqi ever since I was a child, and while I have some talent, winning more than I lose, lately I find myself more interested in calculating the variables on the board rather than worrying about victory. From our game, I can see that although you're a little rusty, sir, you come up with strategies deep and tactics wide, and a great many of them as well. I've very much enjoyed myself.'

'If we ever meet again, I hope to have another head-to-head match with you. I must be off to Baizao to take an examination. Farewell.'

Wang looks at the board in front of him and continues to think, placing black and white stones according to his calculations.

It is just as both he and the youth surmised: it was clearly to be his loss, yet—

If he had taken the point where the youth had placed his final stone, where Wang was about to place his stone before he passed his turn, then there had been the possibility of turning things in his favor.

Wang bids farewell to the gallery's proprietor before finding an inn to stay at.

Many years ago, Wang had an opponent he played for a long stretch of time, but he did not know their identity. They played white as well, and were locked in combat with Wang over that game of heaven and earth, equally matched. Being able to meet someone similar was a miracle, but Wang had no mind to pry. He had more important matters at hand.

Wang unfurls the scroll, its surface completely blank.

He takes off the amber pendant he wears, and places it atop the scroll.

Within the amber is a tattered scrap of paper. Before the portrait at Jianzi Shrine fell apart completely, Yi enclosed its final scrap within the petrified sap, before leaving it to Wang.

Now, it has become the only clue he has to search for his kin.

The amber glides across the scroll, revealing the silhouette of a woman.

Things he had forgotten for years upon years upon years now wind their way through his mind once more.

The bestial Sui has faded away, but his siblings have become ordinary folk. Is there not the possibility that, somewhere out there in Great Yan, his younger sister who had been forgotten by all is now like them, lingering upon this land in the form of a mortal?

The will from the deep earth is now wholly returning to the deep earth. Turning reality into void, void into reality, They abandoned Their bestial forms and became the mountains and rivers of the land. Then, null became all, the mountains became Its skin, the rivers Its blood vessels, and this land became Its entirety. It is Terra. A Feranmut known as Terra.

Like a fowlbeast hatching out its shell, It tears through the Starpod enveloping It, struggling to break away from the tethers of gravity, floating off into the depths of the heavenly abyss, free yet lonely. It will persist in this flight, for thousands, tens of thousands of years. Time is of no concern to Terra. It need only be patient, and await the day the threat no longer exists.

Having inferred the game state up to this point, the stone in Wang's hand does not yet fall. The hulking, ash-white supercomputer cluster watches him with its unwavering, inorganic eyes. Like any good audience, it spectates in silence. At least, until now, when Wang hesitates. Upon its screen appears a series of words:

SUCCESS RATE: 0

After a long pause, a square decimal point appears beside that numeral representing absolutely nothing, followed by many more zeros, before finally, at the tip of the countless zeros, nothings, and naughts, a higher digit appears to wrap it up. This is its calculation, and it matches Wang's own: the single precious chance to succeed, less than a hair's breadth from ruination.

Wang rolls the stone between his fingers. At his feet, masses of discarded stones have piled up into a miniature mountain. An ending like this, claimed from the hands of an invincible enemy, would be considered a draw. More than ten thousand calculations, more than ten thousand defeats. This draw was not so easily won...

But in the end, Wang tosses this stone into the pile too.

To carry out new calculations?

The audience attempts to display puzzlement on its screen.

Wang ascends to the Shadow-Moon, sitting before that audience, seeking a way to reap a great benefit for Terra. Or rather, to use an expression his sibling was fond of, to reap a great benefit for the mortal realm they yearn for, one of endless variety and joy. If Terra were to turn null into all, all Terrans would become Its proxies. Even if It successfully escaped from calamity, and the mountains returned to mountains and the earth to earth, how many could separate themselves from that chaos of mingled wills and return to being people? His sister already knows well the suffering of being trapped in inescapable, muddy waters. If she could know of this plan, worry would appear in her eyes, and she would stroke the hair by her temples—her habit when about to dispense sage advice. Even if there were a slim chance of hope, but civilization would be annihilated, she would never accept it, even if he devised a way for his family to remain.