When the slumbering feeling receded like a tide, Serin once again found himself in the Precipice of the Divine Arena, amidst the mix of partial ruins and wreckage of what seemed like a bygone era and an enchanting divine realm.
The translucent panel opened up in front of his eyes, showing his stats, and back-to-back he was still in the Novice rank, with zero losses and thirty-nine wins.
In the past year, he had been summoned to the Divine Arena three to five times at random. He had the option to accept or decline; however, declining meant losing, and losing meant penalties—three back-to-back losses meant disqualification, or death.
Serin had no reason to refuse.
His gaze shifted to the corner of the panel, the number thirty-nine visible in his sight.
"Finally!" he thought.
Serin was excited. Through the wins, he had gained thirty-nine points. These points could be used to strengthen Divine Blessings. But more importantly, after one more win, he would be promoted to the Beginner Rank—with it would come another Divine Blessing.
The first Divine Blessing, Anchor, had been very useful for Serin, and he could see the potential it held for the future, when eventually he would be forced into dangerous situations. Serin did not have unrealistic expectations of living a leisurely life as a bastard Prince; he was well aware of what was coming, and that was why he was trying his fullest to be as prepared as possible.
Serin closed the panel with a thought and began walking—once again seeing the ruins of semi-collapsed structures scattered around, with murals etched on their surfaces.
After having been to the Church of the Order of the Holy Mother, Serin had grown more interested in the history, epics, legends, and mythos of Eidryth—the world he somehow found himself in.
This was why, this time, he stopped in his tracks upon seeing the fragmented, murky murals engraved on the stones. Then suddenly, he jolted, a thought crossing his mind.
"I'm so stupid!" Serin headpalmed.
Seeing the murals, he realized something he had been overlooking all this time.
Serin wanted to find out the reason why he was pulled into Eidryth, but all this time he had no clue where to begin.
His modern Earth mindset had clouded his thinking, causing him to subconsciously ignore an obvious truth for far too long—the fact that gods, entities beyond comprehension, existed on Eidryth. This meant that the reason for his transmigration was far more likely to be related to these gods than anything else.
Serin felt the fog clouding his mind clear slightly, even if only a little. He had never believed that it was merely a coincidence that a game like chess from Earth existed on Eidryth in such a strange and exact way.
It was even more suspicious that a chess Grandmaster like him—someone belonging to the top 0.1% of players—was pulled into such a world and then conveniently chosen as an apostle to compete in chess.
Serin's heart began racing. It was as though an invisible pressure descended upon him, the boundless ceiling above pressing down, threatening to crush his bones into dust. A chill ran down his spine. He felt like a puppet on strings, as if the darkness around him were closing in—engulfing him ever so slowly.
In this Divine Realm, all Divine Blessings, magic, and bloodlines were suppressed. Serin could not rely on his Anchor blessing to calm himself. An unprecedented panic washed over him, as if he were standing naked in an endless dark abyss, alone.
To distract himself, Serin took deep breaths and closed his eyes, thinking of the best moments from his past life. Moments later, after calming down a little, he decided to properly examine the murals on the huge, tattered, archaic stone walls—possibly from collapsed pavilions or temples.
On one stone wall, he saw a giant throwing a massive rock at ant-like figures. Winged creatures, almost like angels, hovered around the giant in the sky, trying to bind him from all sides with chains.
On another collapsed wall, he saw hordes of monstrous humanoid creatures marching forward with fervor—their fangs protruding, claws reaching out, as though at any moment one might stretch out from the mural, come alive, and shred him apart.
Serin saw many such murals. Vaguely, he recalled something from his memory related to this. He was not sure, but the depictions seemed similar to something from the Second Epoch.
The history of Eidryth stretched back tens of thousands of years, and this was only the known history. Serin could not wrap his head around what he was seeing—his knowledge was far too limited.
Fortunately, much of his panic had subsided. Feeling uneasy, he decided to leave the ruins and move to where everyone else was.
As Serin walked into the main lobby of the Precipice, he immediately drew all kinds of gazes. Unlike his first time, the gazes now lingered far longer, some never leaving him at all.
In the Novice Rank, Stockfish had become a celebrity. Everyone moved aside as Serin walked forward decisively. It seemed that others could perceive the aura emanating from him.
This truly couldn't be helped. Serin had initially decided to lie low and avoid making a big splash, but that would accomplish nothing. It would only delay his promotion if he intentionally lost for appearances—something he could not afford.
Not only that, but losing meant points would be deducted, leaving him with less currency to power up his Divine Blessings in the future.
The Divine Arena was secure and anonymous if one was careful, so there was no real harm in using the full extent of his skills.
Thus, the legend of Stockfish was born—a mysterious, unbeaten, unstoppable force rampaging through the ranks. It was no wonder people looked at him with admiration, fear, and even reverence.
Serin walked a little further, toward the hovering pavilions that never truly grew closer no matter how much one approached them, almost like a mirage.
He found a quiet spot. There was a chessboard on a smooth stone platform and a bench beside it. He sat down and opened the translucent panel.
In the left corner was an image of an eye. This was the spectator option for higher-ranked Apostles. Despite knowing this, Serin tried to access it, but to no avail. A "Restricted" pop-up appeared every time.
Serin was bored in the lower ranks. It was no fun. He was too strong for this level and wanted to see how Apostles of higher ranks played.
Time passed, excruciatingly slowly.
Finally, the timer reached zero, and Serin disappeared from the Precipice, once again finding himself in the familiar Colosseum. His opponent stood across the board in the opposing pavilion.
The opponent opened their system panel, eyes widening as they realized they would be facing the legendary "Stockfish."
A bitter laugh escaped their mouth. With a heavy heart, they opened the communication channel and said, "Of all people… had to be you, Stockfish."
"I wish you luck," Serin replied, knowing full well that no amount of luck would help his opponent. Looking at their information, he sighed in relief. Fortunately, they were not on two consecutive losses.
Serin recalled his first opponent in this world—Feller of the Republic. He muttered inwardly, feeling a pang of guilt. Unfortunately, Feller wasn't the only one who had died because of him.
Serin shook off the thoughts and focused on the massive chessboard between them.
When the game began, Serin had the white pieces.
The chess pieces moved on their own as the two Apostles willed them.
Serin chose to play the Fried Liver Attack. As amusing as the name sounded, it was a tricky opening to deal with for black, especially for those unfamiliar with it.
He would never use such an opening against a fellow Grandmaster, but against an amateur, it posed no problem.
The Fried Liver Attack followed after both sides played the King's Pawn two squares on the first move. Serin developed his knight and bishop to their natural squares—toward the center. His opponent did the same, though they developed both knights instead.
Serin thought he had caught his opponent off guard when, on move four, he advanced his knight, threatening the pawn adjacent to the opponent's King. To his surprise, the opponent correctly responded by advancing the Queen's Pawn two squares.
"Opening theory is surprisingly well known in this world," he thought.
The game soon descended into chaos. The black King was lured into the center of the board. On the battlefield, this would be equivalent to a King charging bravely into combat, only to be cut off from support and beset from all sides by enemy blades.
The black King was unsafe, but achieving this had required Serin to sacrifice his knight. Now, he had to prove it was worth it. Of course, this line had been played millions of times on Earth—and perhaps even on Eidryth.
The difference was that Serin already knew the correct response to any move his opponent could make.
Slowly but surely, he launched attack after attack relentlessly, caring little for his own pieces. As long as he checkmated the enemy King, the game would end.
As expected, the opponent eventually failed to calculate accurately and quickly enough. The black King was checkmated in the center of the board.
The mechanical voice announced the result coldly. The communication channel opened. Thoroughly defeated, the opponent appeared on a screen before Serin.
"Heh, guess I can brag a bit—faced that Stockfish fellow, didn't I?" the opponent laughed bitterly.
"You played well. Be careful in your next game," Serin warned. He had nothing more to say.
The opponent suddenly scowled. "You're a noble, aren't ya? Fairness my ass! You lowlives must've found a way to rig the gods too!"
The channel abruptly closed.
"What a ragequitter…" Serin thought.
Then he froze. Only after the game ended did Serin realize that several figures were seated quietly in the audience, watching the entire match.
An uneasy feeling crept over him. With a thought, he left the Colosseum.
[ Congratulations! You have met the conditions for promotion. You will be transported to the Divine Shrine. ]
In an instant, Serin found himself in a completely unfamiliar place. He looked around—and froze. An endless void surrounded him, occasional flares of light flickering as star-like dots appeared and vanished.
In front of him—no, below him—he could see the ruins, the chessboards, the vague silhouettes, the endless grand hall, and its massive pillars holding the heavens.
The void stretched endlessly in all directions—yet beneath him, the Precipice remained, not held by space, but suspended within a lower layer of existence.
Serin knew where he was. It was a hovering, unreachable pavilion high above—a celestial monolith.
The pavilion drifted in absolute stillness.
Serin stood upon a circular platform of dark stone, its surface etched with faint, ancient lines that pulsed weakly beneath his feet. There were no walls, no ceiling—only an endless void in every direction, broken by distant fragments of light.
Then he noticed them.
Shadows gathered at the edge of his perception.
Not one.
Not two.
Many.
They did not approach, nor retreat. Tall, indistinct silhouettes stood suspended in the darkness, their forms blurred as though reality itself refused to define them. Some felt vast and crushing, others distant and cold. None spoke. None moved.
Yet Serin knew.
They were watching him.
A crushing pressure settled on his chest—far heavier than anything he had felt in the Arena. This place allowed no deceit, no borrowed power. His Divine Blessings lay dormant. Even his thoughts felt exposed.
A presence descended.
The cold mechanical voice echoed in his mind—oddly comforting this time.
[ Rank Promotion Confirmed. ]
[ Novice → Beginner. ]
[ Victory Record: 40 Wins, 0 Losses, 0 Draws ]
The symbols beneath Serin's feet flared briefly.
[ The Lady of Justice Has Blessed You. ]
The shadows shifted—subtly, almost imperceptibly. Invisible forces seemed to weigh him, whispers brushing against his consciousness.
Power surged—not violently, but deliberately—threading through his being and reshaping something fundamental. Pain followed, sharp but brief, before vanishing.
[ Uncommon Blessing Acquired – Righteous Standing ]
[ Evaluating Results… ]
[ Unbeaten Streak Confirmed. Bonus Reward Initiated. ]
Serin's heart skipped a beat.
[ Rare Blessing Granted – Precognition. ]
Before he could fully grasp what he had received, the platform beneath him dissolved.
The figures receded into the void.
The shrine dimmed.
Reality shattered into light as Serin was expelled from the Divine Shrine—sent back to the world below, carrying something new within him.