Instead of thousand possibilities - part 8 - Sand full of blood

This is the eighth chapter of the chess story “Instead of a Thousand Possibilities.” If you haven’t read the first seven yet, now’s the perfect time to dive in.

I’m not entirely sure whether I should spoil what’s coming in this chapter, so I’ll leave you with just one clue: The Elephant Man makes another appearance.

 !Content warning: This part of the story contains vivid scenes with a lot of blood.!

INSTEAD OF THOUSAND POSSIBILITIES - PART 8 - SAND FULL OF BLOOD

The statue of the chess king stood just a few steps from Ray — but reaching it wasn’t simple. You couldn’t just walk in. Blocking the path were new versions of stone general chess pieces, part slingshot, part deathtrap. Where rubber should’ve stretched between wooden arms, a band of live electricity shimmered, straight out of a riot baton. It sparked from tiny chrome vents in their wooden frames.

But the stone generals weren’t the only ones guarding the building. There were also soldier pieces — each wearing a hard marble helmet laced with mesh. Then the sergeants, able to fire part of their own bodies like arrows — tethered on a cord, so they could yank it back. And finally, chariot pieces, shaped like cannons, ready to launch heavy cannonballs straight into flesh.

Ray couldn’t push through. He just couldn’t. Not yet.

Then the ground began to tremble.

Behind Ray, crowds of chess pieces and chess folk surged forward, chanting as one: "The regime will fall, this is their checkmate. The regime will fall, the first check begins." Ray understood. His assassination of a high-ranking piece had ignited something. The rest realized — we can rebel. Sure, a few showed dissent, but no one dared back them. Fear ruled them all.

So Ray was punished — thrown into cruel whip duels. And when the alibabarider chess piece died, no one truly led the matches anymore. No master, no brutal consequences for disagreement. But the murder — that was the turning point. It made them believe that together, they could win.

It hit the pawns first. The ones who once served alibabarider, who now saw a chance to turn. There were about fifteen hundred chess people in the wasteland now, and even more chess pieces — at least twice that. Most were weak. The strongest stood with the king, who watched the chaos unfold from his building’s window.

Then he summoned the ancient general chess piece and his camel caravan. A deafening sound rang out, echoing through the desert. It was a call to the wildebeats.

This battle wouldn’t be easy — but it wouldn’t be hopeless either. Most of these chess folk had journeyed far to get here, drawn by vengeance. The king had power — Xiangqi's horse had made the trip too. Even the chess duck and Berolina would’ve joined him, if not for the fact that they lived in water.

Ray’s side had its own champions: grasshopper pieces, the elephant man, the chancellor pieces, and tiny amazonas chess pieces, hardly larger than ants.

For one long moment, they all stared each other down. Then they ran.

The moment they clashed, it wasn’t like watching a battle — it was like witnessing a storm shred its way across a battlefield made of bone and blood. From behind the rebels, a battered cart charged through the crowd. A general wielded a jagged piece of metal gate — stabbing through chess folk, smashing through chess pieces like they were kindling.

From the rear came the wildebeats — tearing through warriors with their horns, biting bodies in half, drinking deep from the open wounds. One wildebeat even devoured a pawn alive — screaming, kicking, until there was nothing left.

Ray forced himself forward. He had one goal: reach the king, beat him in chess, force him to open the portal and end this war. But guarding that building were the strongest pieces of all: stone general, soldiers, sergeants, and chariots. Many were busy fighting, but if they saw him — it’d be over.

Groups of soldiers carried massive cannonballs to reload the chariots. When one fired — it was carnage. The ball crushed rebels in a single blow, splattering the ground with blood and pulp. It rolled through the crowd, obliterating anything in its path. When it stopped, it was soaked red, nearly glistening.

Some rebels found themselves trapped underneath the cannonball. The only silver lining? It took fifteen full minutes to roll back to the chariot piece — but there were two of them.

If anyone got close to the stone generals, they were met with a blast of electricity. Bodies hit the ground, twitching violently until death — or combustion, if they were wooden chess pieces.

Soldiers charged like battering rams, crashing into others with their helmets at terrifying speed, snapping bones. They tore through the wooden bodies of pieces — splinters flew, and organs spilled.

And the sergeants? They fired their own heads like arrows. So fast, they usually didn’t pierce — they sliced enemies in two.

Ray couldn’t get past them. They were distracted — but if he made the wrong move…

He turned. One chess man tried fleeing the battle. Xiangqi’s horse galloped after him — then bit off his head. Another man sprinted past Ray — and a sergeant’s flying head cleaved him straight down the middle.

Ray didn’t want to be here. Not in this horror. Not in this cruelty.

He wanted to run, curl into a corner, cry himself into silence.

But he couldn’t. Not now. If he wanted to escape, he had to act. If he wanted to survive — he had to wait for the right moment.

Suddenly, the chancellor pieces took to the air — colliding with enemy pieces in bone-jarring hits.

The rebels managed to kill the entire camel caravan. Then, they ripped the trailers apart, using every piece as weapons — iron grates, jagged planks. Many mounted grasshopper pieces and hurled metal scraps at the enemies, stabbing through their bodies like throwing knives.

The tiny amazonas chess pieces swarmed wooden foes like termites — burrowing deep until there was nothing left but gaping holes.

And then came the elephant man.

He charged the stone general and drove a tusk deep into his body. Blood spilled from the wound — but the tusk got stuck. He couldn’t pull away.

A sergeant fired.

Its arrow-head struck the elephant man’s skull, piercing straight through.

Ray couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to scream. Wanted to collapse.

But he didn’t.

Because now… he had a chance.

He ran. Somehow — he made it inside.

Ahead stood massive lava stone doors. Luckily, unlocked.

Ray pushed them open.

A long hall stretched before him, almost endless. At its far end — another doorway.

No handle. Just a hole in the wall, dripping thick yellow lava that flowed deep into the earth.

Ray approached, wondering how to pass through.

Then — he heard it.

A sound. Someone else was here.

Someone who could walk through lava like it was water.

If they didn’t know Ray was inside… maybe he had the advantage. Maybe he had time to find another path.

But time was running out.

He heard a hand grasp the lava stone door's handle.

Someone… was entering the hall.

Continued story here

© Laura  Choanozoa (a pseudonym and the author’s trademark), all rights reserved.

A FEW WORDS FROM THE AUTHOR

Dear reader,

 As you’ve probably noticed, this isn’t the final part of the story. As I mentioned at the end of the previous chapter, unlike in Dragon Wasteland, this story doesn’t yet include the additional sections with chess-related insights or the more detailed A Few Words from the Author. These will either appear at the end of the final chapter or be published separately on the blog afterward.

 If you enjoy my stories, feel free to join my Discord server—there you'll get access to exclusive tales I haven’t shared anywhere else, plus a bunch of other perks, many of which I talk about in this video.

In any case, thank you for taking the time to read this part. If you have any questions or feedback, feel free to let me know in the comments.

Thank you!