{Judah}
He was stuck in a rut. He had been stuck for years. He understood this, and yet, it was oddly amusing, watching his opponent attempt to defend her pathetic army against his undefeated legions, seeing his knights demolish her infantry, his own foot soldiers moving to invade her territory in a pincer movement. It was all planned, she was simply too predictable, too complacent. He'd watched her multiple previous conquests dozens of times, working his Semblance into overdrive to win this victory, and then memorizing the fact her victories were brought upon by the same tactics, with only mild changes depending on her mood. And so, he threw away his old strategies, burning the notebooks that contained them, and filled a newly bought journal full of ideas on how to counter her, just like he did for all his other opponents. So, he'd be lying if he said he didn't take joy in ruining her attempt to become the winner of Mistral's Under Eighteen Chess Tournament. Her light green eyes, that were full of arrogance and joy at the beginning of the match, were now broken, and begging for this one sided war to end. However, the blue eyed youth instead smiled at her, and moved to cut off the retreat of her lone bishop with his own. She was trapped, almost all her pieces gone, and he had made sure that despite him losing nearly half his army, those easy victories meant that now, she had no choice but either tip over her King in front of the cameras and audience, or be overrun by his numerically superior force.
He waited, relaxing in his chair while his eyes watched her left hand move forward, and tip over her King. He blinked, just as the room erupted into loud comments from the reporters, the girl bursting into tears, and the sound of her concerned parents and brother moving to comfort her. And yet, all he heard, was the pleasant sound of her King rolling off the board. He sat up in his chair just as the first reporter left the family, and walked over to him. His smile dipped, but he nevertheless maintained it while standing up, brushing past the journalist, and extending his arm out to take his newest trophy, and ignoring the annoyed look the attendant gave him, before strolling out the building, his smile gone and his award and his newest war trophy in his pocket. He should take the award to his new living spaces in Atlas, as a show of intellectual superiority, and sheer, unrivaled, chess mastery. Personally speaking, he considered himself the obvious choice in all categories, so he wasn't surprised when Atlas Academy accepted his transcripts, and now it was only a matter of time before the Atlesian pilot messaged him to let him know that they were at Sanctum.
Judah glanced around, before walking home, his face bored now that the glorious battle was over. He knew that she, like him, was an orphan, had clawed her way to the top of the chess rankings and made it here, to their small village of Nighbrook. Judah sighed, almost feeling bad as he walked down the dirt streets and grime covered buildings, before stopping as he arrived at his cottage. He hurriedly entered, closing the door and locking all eight locks on the door and rushing to his room, packing up and placing his award inside his duffel bag alongside his clothes, rifle, chess board and pieces, and Dust. His Scroll pinged, and he absentmindedly checked it, seeing the Atlesian pilot had messaged him, and smiled, before exiting the house and walking to the Academy.
He arrived, vaguely registering the pilots words as he entered the airship and sat down onto the bench, placing his duffel bag on his lap before closing his eyes and preparing to rest, his visions of Atlas Academy and the people he would meet causing him to smile as he slept.
Judah smiled as he lost consciousness, knowing that with his training, The Branwen Tribe and those two twins that supposedly led it would die, it was all a matter of time.