Chapter 7

Thus, even by Divinitag’s rules, he wasn’t considered to be unable to act and didn’t become Titan’s servant. Titan hadn’t realized that, and it played havoc with the deity’s final calculations. “Yow,” Fay said. “You don’t hold back with the smashing, do you? Nobody said I don’t feel any pain…” He wiped away the blood that threatened to get into his eyes. From so high in the sky that even Titan had to look up at him, Fay gazed down toward the surface. All the buildings in the Divinitag playing field lay in ruins. “You think it doesn’t matter if I come back, because it’s still three of our people versus sixteen of yours, and that means you win, right? You’ve got it backward. We’re the ones who fulfilled the victory conditions, Titan!” “Hrar!” Fay pointed down at Titan. “Time to compare answers. The other game that’s been hidden under Divinitag this entire time is… “…Othello!” Divinitag—the name made you think of tag first and foremost, but the moniker itself was a trap, a mind game designed to lead unsuspecting humans astray. And the idea that you had to play hide-and-seek to avoid discovery was a falsehood, too. The truth was something else again. “The god chases, and the people run. People become the god’s servants, and the other people try to save them. It’s obvious: the god is moving first, and then the people move second,” Fay said. Titan watched him but didn’t make a sound. “Then there’s the way the servants’ torsos change color. In other words, they’ve been flipped over to a side of a different hue. That was the biggest hint of all.” One: each side took alternating turns. Two: when a piece was flipped over to the opposing side, half of it showed the opponent’s color. By this point, it was pretty clear: this was describing the game of Reversi, popularly known as Othello. “In other words, the first player—that’s you—is dark, and the second—that’s us—is light. The winner is determined by how many pieces each player has on the board at the end of the game. And the board…” “…is this town, right?” The massive god, Titan, peered at the ground. A young woman stood there, her vermilion hair streaming behind her. “Your meep is awfully clever,” she said. “I never dreamed the hint would be right in the explanation. ‘A square field’!” The arrangement of the city itself was another hint. The blocks, divided by evenly spaced streets, were like the spaces on a gigantic game board. That was why Titan had chosen to play here. By turning that idea around, you understood. A game of Othello ended when the board was full, and you couldn’t play anymore. In Divinitag, the game concluded when you couldn’t play anymore because the board had been leveled. “So the game’s over. Now the question is, who has more pieces on their side, right? Dark or light? The god or the humans?” Leshea said. “Huff… Puff… Fay! How could you treat a senior apostle like this?” Asta came running up, her breath ragged. Counting her, the light or human side had three pieces—nowhere near Titan’s sixteen. It had been desperate right up until the end of the game, however… “We had one chance. One thin ray of hope for turning this all around: chaining.” What if light could flip over a bunch of dark pieces all at once? The classic Othello upset. Divinitag included the same rule, even if it was expertly buried. “N… No…” “But why? Titan didn’t even touch us!” When Titan had tagged Asta and the Vice Captain, two apostles nearby had flipped, too, as if a curse had spread to them. At the time, Fay had thought maybe there was an area of effect for the tag, but he’d reexamined that idea. “If this is Othello, then that explains it. Asta used wind magic and pinned three apostles to the building, right? That wasn’t about keeping them from moving. It was to line them up between her and Titan.” It formed a row: dark (Titan), light, light, light (humans), dark (Asta). That’s why when the Vice Captain was flipped, so the two subordinates went too. “I just borrowed a page from your book,” Leshea said. “While Fay was busy distracting you.” Pompf, she clapped Asta on the shoulder. “After I jumped out the window, I went running for this young lady’s hiding spot.” “We split up. I just need to draw off the humans downstairs, right?” “Yeah. Exactly half each.” Seven apostles had chased after Leshea. They couldn’t have known that she wasn’t running away from them—she was running toward the hidden Asta to link up with her. It had all been an ambush. Asta had used her wind magic on the apostles following Leshea, slamming them against the building and forming another row: Light (Asta), dark, dark, dark, dark, dark, dark, dark, light (Leshea). Then they’d only had to tag one of the dark pieces, and the seven people sandwiched between Asta and Leshea all flipped over to the light, human side. “I lured you here and trusted it would work,” Fay said. There had been nine light pieces (breakdown: Leshea, plus eight apostles, including Asta). Then, at the very end, the human victory was sealed with Fay’s regeneration. Ten light pieces (Fay, Leshea, and eight apostles including Asta). Nine dark pieces (Titan, plus eight apostles). “………Out……” There it was. The god, who wasn’t supposed to be capable of human language, voiced a stumbling confession of defeat. As Fay began to fall from the sky toward the ground, Titan caught him in its gigantic hand and set him gently beside Leshea. The next thing Fay knew, Titan was gone, and its Elements had disappeared. The game was over. Titan, it seemed, was pleased.