The pair made their way to the palace, a rhythm in their steps born out of years of familiarity. As they walked, they crossed paths with Zeno, who was moving in the opposite direction. Following him was a young boy with spiky white hair and sharp blue eyes that held a mature light.
As they came level with Haruto, Zeno and the boy, Killua, bowed in respect. "Your Highness," Zeno greeted, though his voice held a note of informal familiarity that reflected their bond.
Haruto returned the nod with a simple, "Zeno." His gaze shifted to the boy, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Are you still raising them with torture and poisons?"
Killua flinched visibly at the mention of torture and poison, his fingers clenching instinctively at his sides. The Zoldyck family was renowned for its extraordinary pain tolerance and immunity to poisons, largely thanks to their harsh upbringing. However, this knowledge didn't make the reality any easier to stomach.
Zeno merely chuckled, seemingly unbothered. "It's our way, Haruto," he said, a hint of defensive pride in his voice. "He's stronger than any other kid his age."
Haruto regarded the boy, a frown marring his features. "Strength is not solely physical, Zeno. There is much more to it." With a final nod to both, Haruto continued on his path, leaving Zeno and Killua behind.
Haruto entered the first room where an elderly man awaited him. The man was lean with a shrewd gaze, his fingers gnarled from decades of playing board games. Upon Haruto's entrance, the man rose from his chair and bowed deeply.
"Your Highness. It is my honor to be challenged by a person of your magnificence," he said, his voice quivering slightly.
Haruto raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Cut the flattery. Show me your mastery in the game of chess."
For a moment, surprise flashed across the elderly man's face, swiftly replaced by a spark of delight. The chessboard was already set up on a table between two plush chairs. Taking his seat across from Haruto, the old man made his opening move.
The game was over quicker than anyone would have anticipated. Haruto's strategy was flawless, his command of the chessboard absolute. He navigated the man's defenses with an almost bored air, pressing his advantage ruthlessly until the old man had no choice but to concede defeat.
Haruto rose, inclining his head slightly in acknowledgement of the game. The old man looked up at him, a mix of awe and defeat in his eyes. "Your prowess is...unmatched, Your Highness."
The words hung in the air as Haruto exited the room, Canary at his side.
The next room housed the master of backgammon. A middle-aged woman this time, with sharp eyes and a determined set to her jaw. She too was defeated with relative ease. Her strategies, though clever, were unable to stand against Haruto's relentless analytical mind.
Go, Shogi, Checkers, each game in succession fell before Haruto's prowess. Masters, all renowned for their skills, could do nothing but acknowledge Haruto's superiority in the face of his relentless victories.
In the final room awaited a youthful man, barely in his twenties. His game was Wei-Chi, an ancient game of strategy and precision. The young man was a prodigy, touted as one of the greatest Wei-Chi players of the generation. But even his prodigious talent was not enough.
Throughout the game, Haruto's face remained as impassive as stone. His moves, carefully calculated, showed his absolute control over the game. The youth tried to counter, his brows furrowed in concentration, but with each passing minute, Haruto's advantage became more apparent.
Finally, the young man let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. He looked up at Haruto, a rueful smile on his lips. "It seems I've met my match. You truly are magnificent, Your Highness."
In the corridor, Canary stood silently as Haruto exited the last room. His face bore no hint of triumph or satisfaction, as if the string of victories were simply expected.
The corridor was filled with a tense silence, only interrupted by the soft echo of their footsteps against the polished stone floors. Haruto's irritation was palpable, hanging thickly in the air and causing Canary to hesitate. Yet, she had been with him for too long to let her fear hold her back.
"My King-"
"Haruto," he corrected sharply, not looking at her.
She swallowed, before pressing on. "Haruto, there is one other game master in the castle."
He paused, his gaze turning towards her. The intense scrutiny of his stare was enough to make anyone falter, but Canary held her ground, her loyalty unwavering.
"Who?" His voice was curt, reflecting his impatience.
"It's a young girl, the reigning champion of Gungi." Canary's voice wavered for a moment before she collected herself. "But…"
"But what?" Haruto's eyes narrowed slightly, a clear signal for her to proceed.
"She is...odd. Childish and overly talkative. Her language lacks formality and she seems to lack basic common knowledge." Canary's words were cautious, treading the line between useful information and unwanted judgment. "It's possible her Gungi mastery is not that impressive. It might just be that few people are well-versed in the game."
A brief silence filled the space between them. Then, Haruto's voice cut through, determined and resolute. "Take me to her."
Canary bowed in assent before leading the way to another room, her heart pounding in her chest. This girl was unlike the masters they had encountered thus far, and she couldn't predict how Haruto would react.
Upon entering the room, Haruto's gaze landed on a small figure in the middle of the room. A young girl with thick, messy white hair was hunched over a Gungi board. Two sections of her hair were tied into unkempt ponytails, and she held a walking stick by her side, indicating her blindness.
Haruto faltered, an odd sensation washing over him. It felt as if something deep within him stirred, a long-lost memory trying to claw its way to the surface. A sudden, intense wave of pain surged through his mind, forcing him to take a step back and brace himself against the wall.
As Haruto grappled with the burning pain in his chest, the world around him seemed to blur. Every echo of the voice ripped through his mind, pulling him into a whirlpool of old, forgotten memories. The pain seemed both agonizing and familiar, like a call from a past life.
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