The Hero Who Wasn't:Lord of Kingdoms

A Dance with Jest: When Madness Tests the Lion's Patience

After Valerius passed through the newly opened gate, he found himself in a more primal tunnel—raw stone walls, colder air. It felt as though the dwarves had never dug this deep before. The silence here was unsettling—the silence of a predator stalking its prey.

Valerius sharpened every sense, ready for anything. But the attack did not come from ahead or behind.

It came from his own shadow.

"Heehee!"

A childish, manic giggle echoed in Valerius's ears. From his shadow on the ground, a slick green shape rose—solidifying in an instant into a grotesque mockery of a man. It was vaguely humanoid, but stretched and twisted. Its skin was a sickly green, slick like a frog's. Its limbs were impossibly long and thin, and its mouth was an almost stitched-wide grin full of razor-like shards for teeth. Its eyes glittered with wicked, gleeful mischief.

Valerius wasted no time analyzing. The moment the creature appeared, his sword was already in motion. But the thing was faster. Its body flowed like liquid, dodging the slash—then its arm cracked out like a whip.

BOOM!

The strike slammed into the hidden energy barrier generated by Valerius's Golden Body skill. The golden shield shattered in a shower of sparks—but it absorbed the brunt of the impact.

Still, the raw force that struck him through the shock was enough to make Valerius take a single step back.

"This power..." Valerius muttered, eyes narrowing sharply. "Could this be the Emperor's lieutenant? Or perhaps… the Emperor himself, in another form!"

The green creature giggled again—and began to move, not like a warrior, but like a court jester dancing in a hellish masquerade. Its movements were fluid, chaotic—utterly unpredictable.

---

An Unpredictable Battle

The real fight began. Valerius fought with the expertise of generations of swordmasters—each move precise and lethal. But his opponent fought by the laws of madness.

The creature stretched its limbs like rubber—throwing punches from impossible distances. It spun about like a green whirlwind, flinging shards of bone like projectiles. Once, it even detached an entire arm, launching it like a missile—only for a new limb to grow back instantly.

"What a repulsive fighting style," Valerius thought as he sliced the flying arm mid-air.

It was terrifyingly fun—a challenge he hadn't tasted in decades. He had to use every ounce of skill. His hawk-like eyes strained to track the monster's insane trajectories. His agile body—enhanced by Kalia's doubled power—barely kept up with its impossible speed.

But Valerius was taking hits. Every punch or kick left deep bruises—even through his hardened skin. He felt his stamina draining rapidly, his health deteriorating. This was a battle of attrition—and that did not favor him.

"I've burned over half my endurance… lost nearly a quarter of my health already… and this thing is still laughing!"

Amid the chaos, Valerius realized something chilling. This creature… wasn't even trying to kill him.

Its strikes were strong—but they lacked that final killing intent. There were moments it could have landed a fatal blow—yet it chose instead to tumble away or giggle again.

It was playing.

"This bastard… he's enjoying this!"

The insult ignited the old lion's fury. "If you want to play—then let's play for real!"

He decided to end it. He dropped all caution and defense. In a sudden, reckless move, he ignored an incoming strike—letting the creature's claws rake deep into his shoulder, tearing flesh.

"Gah!" He spat blood—but he used that single moment he'd carved out.

He broke through his foe's guard, surged forward—his blade flaring with Kalia's doubled might—driving it straight for the creature's heart.

"DIE!"

---

End of the Game

The blade pierced the green monstrosity's chest clean through.

For the first time, the giggle halted. The creature looked down at the sword jutting from its torso—then up at Valerius. Its massive stitched grin remained—but its manic eyes were empty now.

"Heehee…" it whispered one last time—then its body began to melt.

It did not dissolve into dust or blood—but into a puddle of sticky green slime that evaporated rapidly—leaving only the scent of ozone and madness behind.

Valerius stood in the silent tunnel, panting heavily, blood dripping from his torn shoulder. He had won.

But there was no thrill of victory. Only a chill running down his spine.

"I won…" he thought, catching his breath. "…because what I faced wasn't truly fighting. It was just… playing. If it had fought seriously from the start, I'd be in a far worse state now."

He'd won—but just barely, against an enemy who hadn't taken the battle seriously.

He glanced down the deep darkness at the end of the tunnel—where the true Emperor waited—and realized what he'd just faced was only the warm-up… a joke before the real tragedy began.