The silence in the arena was absolute, save for the faint, sizzling sound coming from Baron Kryll's backside.
Si-Yoon stood center stage, his skeletal chest heaving not from breath—since he had no lungs—but from the sheer, crushing adrenaline of having successfully spammed a D-tier spell until his opponent collapsed from annoyance and thermal burns.
He had won. He hadn't just won; he had accidentally established a reputation as a sadistic torture-artist who preferred slow, humiliating cooking over honorable combat.
I need to sit down, Si-Yoon thought, his vision swimming. I need to sit down, and I need a glass of water, and I need to figure out how to un-clench my phalanges from this staff.
He looked up at the viewing box. The vassals—Lyra, Mortem, the Orc-Lich Varr—were staring at him with wide, horrified eyes. Their expressions didn't say "Good job." They said, "Dear God, what is he going to do to us?"
This was the danger zone. If he showed weakness now, if he collapsed or celebrated like a giddy winner, the illusion would break.
He had to exit the stage in character.
Si-Yoon slowly lowered the Scepter of the Void. He didn't look at the defeated Baron. He didn't look at the crowd. He looked at his own hand, turning it over slowly, as if inspecting a speck of dust.
"Boring," he projected, his voice magnified by the [Improved Vocal Reverb]. The sound bounced off the stone walls, deep and hollow.
"I expected a challenge. instead, I received... a barbecue."
He turned his back on Kryll.
"Lyra. Mortem."
The two vassals vaulted over the railing, landing in the arena with a heavy thud, instantly kneeling.
"My Lord!" Mortem barked, his voice trembling with awe. "Your display of... thermal dominance! It was inspiring! The way you targeted the—"
"Silence," Si-Yoon cut him off, mostly because he didn't want to discuss the butt-burning anymore. "Take the Baron to the infirmary. Once he is healed, ensure he begins his duties. I want those nails."
"At once!" Lyra said, her eyes gleaming. "And for us? What is your command for the rest of the council?"
Si-Yoon paused. He wanted to say, 'Everyone go home and sleep.' But a Tyrant doesn't sleep.
"The defenses," Si-Yoon said, improvising. "This duel has revealed a flaw. Not in me... but in this castle."
He gestured vaguely at the arena walls.
"It is too open. Too welcoming. I felt a draft."
Lyra blinked. "A... draft, My Lord? This is an underground arena."
"A draft of disrespect," Si-Yoon corrected smoothly. "We are exposed. If a simple Baron can walk up to me with a scythe, what is to stop a Holy Knight? Or a thief? Or a very persistent door-to-door salesman?"
He slammed the Scepter onto the ground.
"Fortify the perimeter. I want traps. I want alarms. I want it so that nothing enters this castle without my explicit permission and a signed waiver. Do it now."
The System chimed.
[+20 SPP: Action perceived as 'Paranoid Overlord Tightening Security Protocol'.]
[Quest Generated: The Safe House.]
[Objective: Establish a Layer 1 Defense System for the Castle.]
"Traps..." Mortem murmured, nodding slowly. "You wish for us to construct the Labyrinth of Agony?"
"Call it what you want," Si-Yoon muttered, turning to walk toward the exit tunnel. "Just make sure it locks."
The walk back to his chambers was a blur. Every skeleton soldier he passed slammed their spear against their shield, a salute that sounded like thunder.
When the heavy doors of his room finally clicked shut, Si-Yoon didn't sit on the obsidian throne. He slid down the door, his bony legs splaying out in front of him.
"Oh my god," he whispered, his voice returning to its normal, raspy pitch. "I'm alive. I'm actually alive."
He looked at his status panel.
[Current SPP: 15] (Spent on the Aptitude Upgrade).
[Status: Exhausted (Mental).]
[Shadow Magic Aptitude: Grade D.]
He had survived the immediate threat. But as the adrenaline faded, a colder, deeper realization settled in.
He was trapped.
He wasn't just playing a role for a commercial. He was the CEO, the General, and the Lead Actor of a kingdom that the entire world wanted to destroy. And he had no script.
He pulled the Ballad of the Holy Hero book from under the desk. He flipped to the end.
The Skeleton Lord falls, his fortress crumbled, his darkness purged by the light of the Hero, erratic and unprepared.
"Unprepared," Si-Yoon scoffed. "Yeah, because the author didn't give me a budget."
He looked at the book again. Something bothered him.
In the novel, Baron Kryll was supposed to die in Chapter 40 during the "Civil War Arc." He was supposed to lead a rebellion that lasted six months.
I just ended it in ten minutes with a butt-fire spell.
Si-Yoon tapped his chin bone.
"If I changed that... what else changed?"
The story wasn't fixed. It was fluid. And if it was fluid, it could be broken.
Knock. Knock.
Si-Yoon jumped, nearly dropping the book.
"Who is it?" he snapped, trying to regain his 'Lord' voice.
"It is a humble servant, My Lord," a squeaky, rattling voice came from the other side. It wasn't Lyra or Mortem.
"Enter."
The door creaked open. A small skeleton, barely four feet tall, shuffled in. It was missing an arm, and its ribcage was wired together with rusty copper. It held a tray with a single, cracked cup.
"I... I heard the Lord was tired," the skeleton squeaked. "I brought... bone broth. It is... good for the calcium."
Si-Yoon stared at the little guy. This was a "Trash Mob." A Level 1 Skeleton. The kind heroes farmed for XP in the tutorial.
In the game, these things didn't speak. They just aggroed and died.
"You speak?" Si-Yoon asked, genuinely surprised.
The skeleton trembled, the tray rattling. "S-sorry! I will silence myself! Please do not cast me into the Void!"
Si-Yoon stood up. He walked over to the little skeleton. The creature flinched, expecting a strike.
Si-Yoon reached out and took the cup. It was warm.
"What is your name?" Si-Yoon asked.
"Name?" The skeleton looked confused. "I am... Unit 449."
"Unit 449," Si-Yoon repeated. He looked at the rusted wire holding the skeleton's ribs together. It was a shoddy repair job.
He's trying so hard.
Si-Yoon felt a pang in his chest, or where his chest used to be. He remembered his days as an extra on set. Standing in the rain for twelve hours, holding a spear, hoping the camera would pan past him so he could tell his mom he was on TV. Nobody asked his name. He was just "Soldier #3."
"Unit 449 is a bad name," Si-Yoon said softly.
He placed a hand on the skeleton's shoulder.
"From now on, you are... Boney. It's a classic."
"B-Boney?" the skeleton stammered.
"Yes. And Boney..." Si-Yoon pointed to the door. "Tell the others. Nobody disturbs me for eight hours. And tell Mortem..."
Si-Yoon looked at the cracked cup in his hand.
"...Tell Mortem that if anyone breaks into this castle and hurts my staff, I will use the big fire next time."
Boney's eye sockets widened. He straightened up, puffing out his wired chest.
"Yes! Yes, My Lord! I will guard the door! I will bite their ankles!"
Boney scrambled out, closing the door with reverence.
Si-Yoon sat back down, holding the broth. He didn't drink it—he couldn't digest it—but the warmth felt nice against his hand bones.
"Biting ankles," Si-Yoon chuckled darkly. "That's basically all we can do right now."
He opened the System menu.
[Defensive Assets]
- 1x Scepter of the Void
- 1x Burned Baron
- 10,000x Rusty Nails
- 1x Ankles-Biting Skeleton
"Okay," Si-Yoon breathed. "Let's build a defense."