For a split second, the world went silent. The triumphant System windows, the kneeling crowd, the weight of the Royal Signet in the old woman's hand... it all faded into the background. All that existed was the raw, furious certainty in Captain Valerius's eyes and the four feet of sharpened steel he had pointed directly at my chest.
My blood turned to ice water.
This was a new kind of problem. I had faced down a grieving father and a starving grandmother. Their weapons were words, their attacks were emotional. I had managed to counter them with my own improvised, B-movie dialogue.
But this guy? This guy had a very real, very large sword. And he wasn't here to talk.
"Soldiers!" Valerius bellowed, his voice bouncing off the stone walls. "Your king has been replaced by a weak-willed doppelgänger! For the good of the realm, seize him!"
The half-dozen Royal Guards scattered throughout the crowd, who had been kneeling just moments ago, now hesitated. They looked from their furious Captain to me, their faces a mess of confusion. Their loyalty was being torn in two.
My mind, however, was perfectly clear on one thing: I was about to die.
My Strength was 10. My Agility was 12. My list of skills was exactly one item long, and Method Acting wasn't going to stop a greatsword from turning my insides into my outsides. I was a teenager in a Halloween costume, and a man who looked like he could wrestle a bear for fun was about to charge me.
This was the end of the scene. And the end of the anchor.
'Deletion of the anchor.' The System's terrifyingly sterile phrase echoed in my mind.
Just as Valerius took his first heavy step forward, the ground shaking with the force of his advance, a familiar chime rang in my ears. It was the sweetest sound I had ever heard.
[Sufficient Acting EXP has been accumulated!]
[Total EXP: 50/100]
[Congratulations! Actor Rank has increased!]
[F -> F+]
A pathetic rank-up, but I'd take it. But then came the message that mattered.
[New Skill Branch Unlocked: ⚔️ Dungeon Survival]
["If you can't act your way out, fight your way through."]
[Threat Analysis: Lethal physical confrontation imminent.]
[Host's combat knowledge: Nonexistent. Probability of survival without intervention: 0.01%]
[Emergency Protocol Initiated: Granting foundational skill from [Dungeon Survival] tree.]
Another golden window flared to life, this one feeling less like a reward and more like a defibrillator being slapped onto my chest.
[Skill Unlocked: Stage Combat Lv. 1]
Type: Active
Cost: 5 Stamina per minute.
Description: This is not the art of killing; this is the art of looking like you can. Grants the user the muscle memory and instincts for performative combat. Focuses on dramatic parries, flashy evasions, and using the environment to create a spectacle. It won't make you a master swordsman, but it will make the audience believe you are one.
My eyes widened. It was a skill based on fake fighting. It was the most ridiculous, most useless-sounding, and yet most perfect skill I could have possibly received.
I didn't have time to think. Valerius let out a guttural war cry and charged, his greatsword held high. He moved with a terrifying speed, closing the ten-foot gap between us in a blink.
This was it.
'Activate Stage Combat!' I screamed in my mind.
A jolt, like a low-voltage current, shot through my entire body. My muscles tensed, not with fear, but with a strange, newfound potential. My legs bent into a low, balanced stance I'd never used before. The world seemed to slow down, just a fraction.
Valerius's sword came down in a brutal, cleaving arc meant to split me in two from collarbone to navel.
My body moved before my brain could even process the panic.
I didn't try to block. I didn't try to run. I sidestepped. It wasn't a clumsy, desperate scramble. It was a fluid, elegant pivot on the ball of my foot, a move that belonged more in a ballet than a brawl. The heavy velvet cloak swirled around me dramatically as the massive sword hissed through the air where my head had been a microsecond before, smashing into the stone floor with a deafening crash that sent sparks flying.
[+2 Acting EXP (Dramatic Evasion)!]
I stared at the system notification, my mind reeling. I got points for that?
Valerius roared in frustration, wrenching his sword free from the floor. He spun, swinging the blade in a wide, horizontal arc aimed at my midsection.
Again, my body reacted on its own. I didn't dodge backward. I dropped, one hand touching the floor for balance, the razor-sharp edge of the greatsword passing inches over my head with a murderous whoosh. I pushed off the floor and sprang back up, the motion feeling surprisingly natural.
[+2 Acting EXP (Acrobatic Dodge)!]
"He's toying with me!" Valerius bellowed, his face turning a shade of purple. To him, my panicked, system-guided movements looked like the effortless grace of a master teasing an amateur. The crowd gasped, their fear for my safety turning into awe.
But I knew the truth. I was just a puppet, and the Stage Combat skill was pulling the strings. My internal monologue was a high-pitched scream of pure terror. Holy crap, that was close. Don't fall. Don't trip. My stamina is draining. What the hell do I do?
I needed a weapon. My eyes darted around. The throne was too heavy. There were decorative suits of armor lining the walls, complete with swords, but they were too far away. Then I saw it. Hanging from a hook on the wall just a few feet away was a massive, heavy royal banner, a field of crimson embroidered with a golden dragon. The flagpole was at least seven feet long, made of polished dark oak and capped with a heavy, ornate brass finial.
It would have to do.
As Valerius charged again, I lunged sideways, my new skills giving me a burst of speed I didn't know I possessed. I grabbed the banner from the wall, the heavy fabric unfurling around me.
Valerius adjusted his attack mid-stride, thrusting his sword point-first at my chest.
There was no time to think. I held the flagpole like a quarterstaff. The instincts from the skill took over. I angled the pole downwards, catching the flat of Valerius's blade with the solid oak shaft.
CLANG!
The impact shuddered up my arms, a brutal, bone-jarring shock. My hands went numb, but I held on. Valerius's thrust was deflected, his sword sliding harmlessly past my ribs.
[+3 Acting EXP (Improvised Parry)!]
"You would defile the royal standard?!" Valerius roared, his fury reaching a fever pitch.
"I am repurposing it!" I yelled back, my own voice surprising me with its steadiness. The adrenaline was a fire in my veins. This was insane. I was fighting for my life with a glorified curtain rod.
What followed was a blur. A deadly, terrifying dance. Valerius attacked with the brutal efficiency of a trained killer, each swing a powerhouse blow. I, on the other hand, moved like a character in a movie. My skill didn't give me strength; it gave me flair. I didn't block his attacks head-on. I deflected them, using the length of the flagpole to redirect his momentum. I spun and twirled, the crimson banner a flowing, distracting shield. I wasn't fighting him; I was performing around him.
[+1 EXP]
[+2 EXP]
[+1 EXP]
The EXP notifications were popping up with every move, a constant stream of validation that I was doing something right. The crowd was mesmerized. The other guards, who had been ready to seize me, now stood frozen, watching the impossible duel unfold.
But I was fading. Fast. A new system window was blinking red in the corner of my vision.
[Warning: Stamina is critically low (2/11)!]
[Skill: Stage Combat will deactivate in 10 seconds.]
Ten seconds. I had ten seconds before my body forgot how to do all this fancy spinning and I was left standing in front of an angry man with a very big sword.
I couldn't win a battle of attrition. I had to end this now. I needed a final move, a showstopper.
Valerius, sensing my fatigue, lunged forward, abandoning his wide swings for a quick, precise thrust aimed directly at my throat.
The skill screamed at me to dodge, to pivot away. But Evan Cross, the guy who relied on his wits, saw an opening. It was a stupid, insane gamble.
Instead of dodging, I stepped into the attack.
I dropped the heavy bottom end of the flagpole, letting it hit the stone floor. Using it as a pivot, I swung the top end... the heavy brass finial... in a tight, powerful arc, putting every last ounce of my strength into it.
At the same time, I leaned my head to the side. The point of Valerius's sword shot past my neck, so close I could feel the cold kiss of the steel on my skin.
My move was slower, but his was over-extended.
The brass dragon head at the end of the flagpole connected squarely with the side of Valerius's steel gauntlet.
CRUNCH!
The sound was sickening. Valerius screamed, not in fury, but in pure, unadulterated pain. His grip failed. The greatsword, his symbol of power and authority, clattered to the floor, ringing like a funeral bell in the suddenly silent hall.
He stared at his hand, his fingers bent at an unnatural angle. He looked up at me, his eyes wide with disbelief.
I stood there, chest heaving, leaning on the flagpole for support. My arms felt like jelly. My stamina was completely gone. But I was alive.
I had won.
But the objective wasn't to win. It was to convince.
The king's persona, now a familiar presence in my mind, supplied the next move. It was the only move left.
I let the royal banner clatter to the floor. I stood empty-handed before my defeated captain. Valerius instinctively braced himself for the killing blow.
But I didn't move to attack. Instead, I looked him in the eye, my gaze steady despite my exhaustion.
"Your loyalty is to the crown, Captain Valerius," I said, my voice quiet but firm, echoing the king's authority. "And I respect that. More than you know."
I took a step forward, closing the distance between us. I offered him my empty hand.
"But your loyalty must be to the kingdom first. Not to the flawed, foolish man who wears the crown. I have been that flawed man for too long. Help me be the king this kingdom deserves. Help me protect our people. Not from me. But with me."
Valerius stared at my outstretched hand, then at my face. His hard, stoic expression crumbled, replaced by a storm of conflicting emotions. Doubt. Hope. Confusion.
He slowly, painfully, knelt. He bowed his head, a gesture of submission that felt more significant than winning the fight.
"My king," he choked out.
The rest of the guards immediately slammed their fists to their breastplates and dropped to one knee. The entire crowd, which had been standing in stunned silence, knelt in a great, rustling wave.
The silence in the throne room was absolute. It was the silence of total victory.
Chime.
[Scene Complete: The People's Court!]
[Final Performance Review: Overcame a physical threat through performative combat and a climactic display of mercy. The character arc of the 'Repentant King' has been solidified.]
[Audience Approval is at MAXIMUM!]
[Bonus EXP Awarded: +75 Acting EXP!]
[Total EXP: 160/200 -> Level Up!]
[Actor Rank has increased!]
[F+ -> E-]
Another wave of that warm, empowering energy washed through me, replenishing my stamina and soothing my aching muscles. I was getting stronger. Not by lifting weights, but by acting. This was the weirdest RPG I had ever played.
Just as I thought I might finally get a moment to breathe, a final, ominous window appeared.
[Main Scenario Quest Updated!]
[Final Act: The Coronation of the Penitent King.]
[Objective: The people and the military have been swayed. Now you must win the approval of the Royal Court. Survive the political machinations of the nobility and secure your right to rule.]
[Warning: This is a social stealth and dialogue-based scene. Combat skills are ineffective. One wrong word could lead to a 'Bad End': Execution by Poison.]
I stared at the message, a new kind of cold dread seeping into my bones. I had survived a mob and a duel.
But now, I had to deal with politicians.
***