He stared at the table, his gaze fixed on the newly revealed pieces.
Standing tall in the center of the wooden surface were a queen, a king, and two bishops.
Positioned directly in front of them, as if guarding their superiors, were two Knights.
These were the true core of the army.
They stood with a silent, heavy dignity that seemed to command the space around them.
All that remained to complete the set were the eight pawns and the board itself... the final items that Number 7 was currently delivering through the night.
The atmosphere in the warehouse grew even more still.
One of the men slowly stretched out his hand. His fingers, long and pale, closed around the Queen. He lifted the piece into the air, holding it against the dim light.
With a slow, rhythmic motion, he began stroking the surface of the piece, feeling the cool, smooth texture of the material against his skin.
His eyes narrowed as he examined the craftsmanship. These were not mere toys; they were vessels of history and power.
On the side of the obsidian-black queen, something caught his attention. He turned the piece slightly, his thumb brushing against a hidden detail. There, engraved with microscopic precision upon the stem of the piece, was a distinct animal.
The carving was so lifelike that it felt as though the creature might spring from the stone at any moment.
The man narrowed his eyes, bringing the obsidian piece closer to the dim light.
As he looked closely, he could finally see the details of the engraved animal.
It was not a whole creature, but merely half of one... a fragment of a larger design.
The most prominent feature was a large, majestic wing that seemed to stretch toward the edge of the stem.
Shocked by this discovery, he immediately reached out and grabbed the other pieces from the table.
One by one, he examined them with a frantic energy. His suspicions were confirmed.
Every single piece had an animal engraved upon it, but none were complete.
They were all halves, specifically the left side of various creatures.
"What's wrong?" the other man asked, his confusion growing as he watched his partner's sudden agitation.
Even the woman, who had been focused on her walkie-talkie, looked up. Her merchant's smile faltered as she sensed the shift in the air.
"These aren't what we wanted," the man stated. His voice was no longer arrogant; it was filled with a deep, hollow panic.
"What do you mean?" The woman asked before the partner could even open his mouth.
Her confusion was genuine, her professional mask cracking for the first time.
The man didn't answer her directly. Instead, he handed the pieces over to his partner.
The second man took them, and as his eyes scanned the engravings, his expression changed instantly.
The arrogance vanished, replaced by a pale, trembling mask of fear.
"Who did you say is delivering the other pieces?" the man asked, his gaze snapping back to the woman.
He looked directly into her eyes, his tone now thick with a sense of sudden panic.
The woman, feeling the chilling change in the men's behavior, reached down and swept up the pieces from the table to examine them herself.
She turned them over in her gloved hands, looking at the half-completed animals and the strange wings.
She stared at the engravings for a long time, but she remained confused.
To her, they were simply beautifully crafted artifacts.
She couldn't understand why these high-standing men were suddenly reacting with such terror to a few incomplete drawings.
"He's called Seven, one of our best agents. What's wrong?" the woman asked, her curiosity finally rising to the surface.
She felt a prickle of unease at the way these two powerful men had suddenly lost their composure.
"And what exactly is wrong with these pieces?" she added, her voice sharpening.
With a careless flick of her wrist, she tossed the obsidian carvings back onto the table.
They landed with a sharp, brittle crk sound, sliding across the wood like discarded junk.
"Damn it... why am I so unlucky?" the man on the left muttered.
His frustration was palpable as he pressed his palm against his temple, as if trying to soothe a sudden, throbbing headache. The arrogance that had defined him earlier had completely evaporated, leaving behind a man who looked haunted.
"Why did you bring these pieces to us?" the other man asked, his voice shaking.
He didn't look at her; his eyes were fixed on the door of the warehouse, watching for any movement in the dark.
"We only asked your organization for an ancient chess set. Not this. We did not ask for this!" he continued, his voice rising in pitch as panic began to take hold of his senses.
"What do you mean? What are these?" she demanded, no longer attempting to hold back her questions.
She looked from the terrified men to the half-engraved animals on the table.
The silence of the warehouse seemed to grow heavier, punctuated only by the distant, frantic hum of her own heart.
"Why are you acting like this?" she added, her gaze searching their masked faces.
"Why are you making it seem like the world is ending over a few incomplete carvings?"
"How do I even explain? I don't even know where to begin," the man muttered to himself, his fingers trembling as he began biting his nails with frantic frustration.
The composure he had held earlier was completely shattered. He turned to his partner, his eyes darting toward the exit.
"Arnold, we need to leave. Immediately."
The man now identified as Arnold remained frozen in place, his expression as pale as if he had just witnessed a ghost.
He clenched his left arm with such force that his knuckles turned white, his gaze fixed on nothingness as if he were being drowned by a flood of terrible, suppressed memories.
"Arnold!"
"Arnold!"
The repeated, sharp calls finally jolted him from his trance.
He looked at his partner, his eyes glazed with a layer of cold, paralyzing panic.
Without another word, both of them stood up abruptly, as they moved to flee the warehouse.
"Don't move."
The sudden yell from the woman sliced through the air.
When they turned in her direction, they found the barrel of a gun leveled directly at them.
Her hands were steady, her posture professional and lethal.
"If you move even an inch, I will shoot," she warned, her gaze as cold and indifferent as a frozen lake.
"What are you doing, you b****?" Arnold yelled at her.
He tried to reclaim his mask of arrogance, but the panic remained visible, deep in the trembling of his pupils.
"It is all your fault if we all die tonight! It's because of you... yeah, you are the one at fault!" He was clearly losing his mind.
In a fit of desperate rage, he lunged forward, trying to run to her side to choke her.
The sharp crack of the firearm echoed through the cavernous warehouse, a deafening sound that cut off his breath.
"I said... do not move," she repeated.
Her tone was flat, devoid of any heat, as she watched the dark blood begin to soak through Arnold's trouser leg and run down to the floor.
"You—"
Both Arnold and his partner spoke in unison, their voices filled with shock.
But the words were quickly drowned out by Arnold's scream, a high-pitched sound of agony that filled the empty spaces of the warehouse.
__________________________________________
Hello guys, Ashburn here.
I'm just a new, aspiring author trying to bring my imagination to life.
Hope you enjoy the story and support me.
If you have a minute, I'd love it if you could leave a review, it really helps the webnovel reach more people.
Thanks for reading! ☺️☺️. (And don't mind the title..)