Chapter 529: Lost (5)
[TL/N: Read my new work - Detective Conan: I'm a Succubus?!]
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"There is no bad move at every turn, no misstep at every pass. This means that both placing pieces at the center and making jumps are valid strategies," Schwi explained calmly.
Meanwhile, Remilia watched Little Fran with curiosity. Seeing the girl's enthusiasm, she couldn't understand why Fran was so fascinated by Go.
"Because Big Brother said my emotions are unstable, and learning Go can help me calm down," Fran said matter-of-factly. "Not just me—even Sister Yoshino was asked by Big Brother to learn it."
Go was indeed an excellent method of cultivating discipline and patience. Alexander had encouraged both Fran and Yoshino to study the game, believing it would benefit them.
——
Inside Go Room 12, the match continued. Alexander observed Fujiwara, who was taking deep breaths, staring intently at the board in front of him.
White—9-4! Break!
"Alexander! 9-5! Capture!"
Fujiwara gripped his fan tightly, his gaze fixed on positions 4 and 8, waiting to see if his opponent would reinforce.
White—8-4! Accepted!
"Alexander! 10-3! Respond!"
Fujiwara exhaled in relief. He had been at a disadvantage, but his goal now was to prevent White from building momentum. If he could trap the white stones within his own territory, he could slowly erode them.
White—2-6! Break!
Black—7-2! Capture!
White—2-3!
Black—6-1! Capture!
With this move, Black successfully captured a white stone, closing the gap from his earlier disadvantage.
But then, an unexpected shift occurred—White suddenly redirected the battle to the lower-left corner!
White—3-16! Take!
Black—2-16! Respond!
Watching this shift, a group of professional players in the chess room fell into deep thought.
"White should play 2-15 to pull and cut. That way, he should be able to survive."
"Right. Black should respond with 2-17 to connect—this forms a live shape, and White's best setup would be in the 10-17 area."
Their reasoning earned nods of approval, but Schwi, standing quietly at the side, shook her head.
"Wrong," she murmured. "White won't move like that. He'll play 8-2."
Her words drew curious glances from the others.
"Isn't this the time to pull?" someone questioned.
Before they could finish their sentence—
White—8-2!
Black—8-1! Pull!
The room fell into stunned silence.
As the pieces fell, Fujiwara's eyes widened.
For a brief moment, he saw a roaring lion, its bloody maw devouring the board. A relentless predator, attacking from all sides.
Yet, instead of fear, a wild excitement surged through him.
Yes! This is the feeling!
This is what he had been searching for!
Only an opponent like this could push him to his absolute limit.
"Come on," Fujiwara muttered, gripping his fan tighter. "This game is exhilarating, Alexander! I can feel it—if I can defeat him, I might just discover a true Hand of God!"
Alexander chuckled.
This version of Alpha Dog had evolved far beyond what it once was. Stronger, sharper—far more terrifying than when it had defeated the world champion back then.
If Fujiwara could actually win, perhaps he really could find the Hand of God.
Click.
A piece landed.
Click. Click.
One by one, the stones fell, time slipping away with each move. The black and white pieces crisscrossed the board, mirroring the eternal struggle of yin and yang.
Finally, the endgame arrived.
In the viewing room, Remilia sat to the side, yawning from boredom. Beside her, Kanna had already dozed off, while Schwi, Fran, and a crowd of professionals remained fixated on the match.
And then—
"The dog won."
Schwi's voice carried no surprise. From the beginning, the outcome had been inevitable.
At first, Fujiwara had fought on equal footing with Alpha Dog, but as the match progressed, their gap became increasingly apparent.
Fujiwara (Black): Remaining time—15 minutes.
Alpha Dog (White): Remaining time—1 hour, 38 minutes.
Despite his skill, Fujiwara was only human. His processing speed simply couldn't match a machine. While he spent time analyzing moves, Alpha Dog responded instantly, forcing Fujiwara into a downward spiral as the clock ticked away.
The less time he had, the lower the quality of his plays.
Final Score
🔲 Black: 184 points
⚪ White: 177 points
Black lost by ¾ of a point.
Alexander turned toward Fujiwara, studying his expression.
At that moment, he couldn't tell what Fujiwara was thinking.
So, he simply asked—
"Well? Did you find it?"