Chapter 91: Chess, Not Checkers

Makun stood at the edge of the bounded field, still hurt from earlier. He had been wounded by Cheryl. However, he had to listen. He could not faint right now.

They are the ones who attacked Zuri. They were after me. I need information from them. Why are they after me? Who is backing them? I need to know. He thought after hearing Orel’s earlier declaration.

Orel had rambled for a while, about him being knocked out, captured and brought to their boss. He had no idea what all of that meant.

Only if I could get more information. As soon as Makun had that thought, he heard Bol’s broken voice.

“How?”

The words came out ragged as Bol turned his head to look at Orel.

He wants to know what went wrong. Makun thought. Am I going to get answers?

Orel faced Bol, a smirk on his face. His eyes reflected a strange light, almost as if he looked at Bol with pity.

“How did I know?” Orel repeated. “Which part confuses you? That it was today? That you would target the shelters? That you would use a puppet to lure him out?”

He spoke casually, like he was speaking about the weather. He felt bored. Like dismantling this whole operation was child’s play to him.

“The seer,” Orel said. “Sunday, you visited her for questions, right? Questions about Makun.”

Sunday? Zuri? Was her place destroyed on Sunday? Just three days after my awakening.

Makun was scared. This was not about being a puppet. This fear was one directed at his enemies.

Bol and Cheryl were not from Naija City, not even from this part of the country. He could tell from how they spoke. However, three days after his awakening, three days after meeting the entity, they had traced him.

Traced him to Zuri’s place and asked about him.

Isn’t that too fast?

“That was a mistake. If you attack her, make sure not to fight. An alternative, maybe a bribe. It would have avoided the spiritual residue you left there.” He shook his head, like a parent disappointed by their child. “That spiritual residue alerted the VEB of Naija City.”

Makun shot a glance at Bol. The man’s eyes had widened as if that mistake was something they had not planned for.

What Makun did not know was that they had thought of it, but Zorak’s last connection to the Deep was what really alerted the VEB.

If they had not pushed to kill Zorak and Zuri after gaining the information, the devices used by the VEB would not have alerted them of spiritual activities.

“When I came here and read the report, it was simple.” Orel continued. He paced around, moving back and forth extravagantly with his hands behind his back. “Pattern recognition. I placed myself in your shoes and deduced.”

“Firstly, the fact you went to the seer meant you had lost what gave you access to his location.” Orel said, stopping mid-walk. “You knew his old location but could not find him. Probably had to do with his connection to the Deep.”

Makun was surprised. Could it be that they cannot trace me anymore? That was good news to him.

He had been scared earlier about how easily he had been located. It seemed that problem was solved.

He had no idea how much shrouding the entity had done to hide him from prying eyes.

He focused on Orel once more. He was getting a lot out of his explanation and it made sense.

“You probably interrogated his neighbors, got nothing, then attacked the seer,” Orel said. “Then you profiled and deduced.”

“You were searching for an unlucky bastard, with no friends, no family. Who had just been evicted and had met a seer who chased him away. Eviction meant no place or money. So you knew he could not afford the night at a hotel. Only choice left were the shelters.”

“The shelters were obvious. I mapped every one in the city. Calculated probability distributions based on location, proximity to mystic hotspots, and security levels.” He stopped midway. “Most importantly, once again I thought like you. You went from the shelters closest to his neighborhood to the furthest one.”

At this point Makun did not know what to think. He felt his head hurt as he listened to Orel. All of this had been happening and he had been ignorant of it all.

I need to be on my guard even more.

Which was a task for someone as paranoid as him.

“Seven shelters, seven days, from Monday to Sunday. Hope Rest Shelter had a 99% likelihood for Sunday.”

At this point Bol was defeated. Makun could tell. He had never expected to have someone trace down their every move, every thought from just a report.

“Sunday, we knew. We prepared a bait. Someone I knew despised Makun. I used some of my expensive equipment to brainwash him. Psyops, you know.”

“So when we thought we had control on him?” Bol, who had been quiet this whole time, forced himself to ask.

“Partially, partially. I had to make it just enough so you would not be suspicious.” He looked at Cheryl. “Puppet woman, you must have realized, riiiiight?” He asked, provoking her, who had mentioned killing him before.

Cheryl gritted her teeth, pissed at their current situation. But from her look, everyone present could tell she knew he was right.

The first sign was the questions. She had thought of it as the questions making Mark think too much, when it was just Orel’s plan to feign resistance to decrease their doubt.

The second sign was when Makun had gone into the shelter. Cheryl had slightly lost touch with Mark at that point. The connection was still there but minimal.

She had no idea how Mark had convinced Makun.

Orel pointed at Makun. “Riiiiight? If he knew how sharp, paranoid, and skeptical that guy is, you would have known you had no control of Mark.”

Makun’s eyes narrowed. Orel had already analyzed him from almost nothing. I should be careful around him.

But he knew Orel was right. The only reason he had followed Mark was because he mentioned Yime, Jorg, and the different organizations.

He doubted Cheryl had such information.

If Mark had said anything else, any other argument, Makun would not have followed.

“If I did not take control, then he would not have followed and I could not have dragged you out of your hiding place.” Orel smiled, arranging his tinted glasses. “However, he came out, knocked Mark out, due to you guys underestimating his strength. To be fair, he should not be an Apprentice. Can’t blame you for thinking that.”

Bol was totally lost at this point. Makun could see defeat in his eyes. He had accepted he was inferior.

“So we dragged you out, made you feel a sense of victory by capturing him, then TA-DA! We appeared. Good finale, riiiiight?” Orel finished, spread his hands and performed a little bow.

He stood up and arranged his glasses. “You never had a chance. You were playing checkers.” A smile crossed his face. “I was playing chess.”

Makun felt a chill run down his spine.

This man.

He had known Orel was MIO, that he was a Scholar. He had thought Orel was arrogant, insufferable, someone who enjoyed looking down on others.

He had not understood what Orel actually was.

This was not arrogance. This was certainty. Orel did not think he was smarter than everyone else. He knew he was. And he had the results to prove it.

Makun, who generally called himself smart, understood there were levels to this.

The Scholar Route… If he ever decides I am an enemy…

Makun did not finish the thought. The conclusion was obvious.

He would see nothing coming. Traps upon traps laid down for him. He would fall when he thought he had absolute control. Dangerous.

He went deeper in his thoughts. Orel was a third grade Adept Scholar. What about higher-tiered Scholars? How about those with extremely powerful sub-routes?

He had not yet understood the power granted by each of these routes the higher you climbed.

He shook his head, centering his thoughts on the battlefield. He was going to organize what he learned later. Right now he observed.

Jorg and Amelia had no reaction from beginning to end. Makun knew that for them to be here, they had to be aware of the plan.

Bol was shocked and discouraged. While Cheryl was angry. She was the puppeteer. Why was she being a puppet right now?

Makun noted all of their expressions, but he still had one question left.

Where is Yime?

As far as he knew, Orel was not the leader of the Houston Branch of MIO. Was this mission beneath her that she did not deem it worth her time?

He had no idea.

Orel straightened up, adjusting his orange glasses. The casual gesture somehow made him more menacing.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the game is over.”

He turned to Jorg and Amelia.

“Capture them.”

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