The Board Beneath the World
The sound of the Gungi pieces echoed softly across the vast hall, yet beneath that calm rhythm, something had shifted.
"2–4–9. New Ninja."
Komugi's voice trembled—just slightly.
For the first time since the game had begun, her fingers hesitated above the board. The move was bold, unorthodox, born not from certainty but instinct. Across from her, the old champion did not react immediately. He remained still, his hands folded, eyes half-lidded, as though listening to a melody only he could hear.
Then he smiled.
Not mockery. Not arrogance.
Curiosity.
"3–4–7," he said calmly. "Silent Crescent."
A move no manual described.
The pieces shifted, forming a pattern Komugi had never seen before. Her breath caught in her throat. The board, once familiar, now felt like foreign territory. The air around them thickened, as if the game itself demanded silence and respect.
Edrin, standing nearby, felt it too. He did not understand Gungi—not truly—but even he could sense that something monumental was unfolding. The background music, once pleasant, grew dull and oppressive, its rhythm aligning with the tension on the board.
Two champions.
One balance.
And a limit about to be tested.
Far below, the elevator doors slid open with a metallic sigh.
Meruem stepped forward.
The underground chamber was vast, circular, and lined with towering shelves of ancient tomes etched directly into the stone walls. Runes glowed faintly between them, symbols older than any known language. At the center stood the cube.
Transparent.
Perfect.
And alive with Nen.
Inside it, the creature moved.
The guide from the entrance was already there, standing calmly beside the prison as if he had been waiting.
Meruem's eyes narrowed.
"So," the guide said softly, his voice echoing unnaturally. "You were not meant to be here, honored guest."
Meruem did not turn to him.
"What is that creature doing here?" Meruem asked. "And why is it imprisoned beneath your city?"
Silence.
Then the guide's tone hardened.
"This place is not open to outsiders. I must ask you to leave. Now."
Meruem's tail slipped free from beneath his garments.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
It swayed once.
Twice.
The air cracked as it cut through it, not striking—yet announcing its presence. A quiet declaration of identity.
The guide exhaled.
"I see," he murmured. "So you are of the same species."
The man removed his coat, letting it fall to the stone floor. Beneath it, his body was carved like a weapon—back, arms, abdomen, legs—all forged through years of discipline and sacrifice. This was no merchant. No caretaker.
Nen surged around him.
From the aura emerged a chain, its end forming a vicious spiked ball, humming with lethal intent.
"I regret this," the guide said, eyes cold. "But you have seen too much. And more importantly… your existence is a threat to human civilization."
He struck.
The chain lashed forward with explosive speed.
Meruem stepped aside.
The weapon smashed into a wall of books, pulverizing stone and ancient texts alike before embedding itself deep into the underground structure. Cracks spiderwebbed across the surface.
Again.
Again.
Each strike carried conviction, not rage. The man believed in what he was doing.
Meruem moved calmly, almost lazily, evading every attack with terrifying precision. His Ten was fully active now, a quiet, invisible pressure wrapping his body like an unseen crown.
Inside the cube, the imprisoned Chimera Ant stared in awe.
Nen.
One of their own… wielding Nen.
Until now, he had believed it a power exclusive to humans. His world trembled at the realization.
Above them, the Gungi board had become a battlefield.
Komugi's breathing grew shallow. The old champion's move had fractured her formation. Every path she tried to calculate led to collapse.
Yet her eyes shone.
She leaned forward.
"2–6–8," she whispered. "Hidden Wing."
The board shifted again.
The spectators could not follow—but they felt it. The atmosphere twisted, pressure building like a storm about to break. The old man's smile widened, amused, impressed.
"So you've found it," he murmured.
Their minds clashed, unseen and absolute.
Below, the guide altered his stance.
The chain retracted, hovering protectively around him. His Nen condensed, sharp and disciplined.
"You monsters destroy balance," he declared. "We have fought too long to protect this world."
Meruem stopped moving.
For the first time.
"You misunderstand," Meruem replied. "Balance does not belong to humans alone."
He stepped forward.
The guide attacked again—faster, stronger.
Meruem caught the chain.
Barehanded.
The impact shattered the stone beneath his feet.
Shock rippled through the chamber.
The guide's eyes widened—but only for a moment. He pulled back, retreating several steps, breathing heavily.
"So it's true," he muttered. "A king."
The imprisoned Chimera Ant pressed against the cube, his voice raspy.
"You… you are different."
Meruem did not answer.
His focus shifted.
A realization settled into his mind.
This was not a random prison.
This was a containment point.
A secret meant to stay buried.
And the man before him was not acting alone.
Above, Komugi froze.
She saw it.
A line.
A single move that could decide everything.
Her hands trembled—but she smiled.
"3–9–1," she said softly. "Final Thread."
The board fell silent.
The old champion closed his eyes.
For a long moment, neither moved.
Then he laughed quietly.
"So this is your limit," he said. "And beyond it… your strength."
Edrin swallowed.
The clone of the King, hidden in the reception hall, watched intently.
The game was no longer just a game.
The elevator chimed.
Meruem turned.
The doors opened behind him.
The guide stiffened.
Another presence had arrived.
Someone else was watching.
And whatever lay beneath Valmeris was no longer hidden.
The battle—for the board, for the underground secret, for the future balance between species—had only just begun.