"Auggghhh..."
Rudeus let out a long, satisfying groan, stretching his arms high above his head as he sat up in his plush, excessively large four-poster bed. His spine popped in a rapid, staccato sequence of satisfying clicks, releasing the deep, muscular tension that had built up overnight.
He didn't feel the debilitating, paralyzing agony of Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness today. The micro-tears in his muscle fibers had finally caught up to his punishing, borderline suicidal subterranean training regimen. Instead of pain, he felt a dense, coiled, explosive power resting just beneath his skin.
"Good morning, sunshine," Rudeus said to the empty room, a genuinely bright, predatory smile stretching across his aristocratic features.
He was in an exceptionally good mood. It wasn't because the morning air was crisp, or because the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows of his suite was beautiful. He was excited because today was the day of the highly anticipated First-Year Practical Combat Tournament.
And he wasn't excited because he had a burning desire to test his mettle against the other students, or to prove his worth to the spectating Imperial recruiters.
He was excited because today, under the official, legally sanctioned, highly publicized rules of the Academy's tournament, he was finally going to get the opportunity to absolutely, unequivocally beat his arrogant half-brother Aemond's ass into the dirt.
He threw the heavy, silken duvet off his legs and swung his feet onto the plush Persian rug.
"Ohh, well," Rudeus muttered, glancing at the ornate, magical grandfather clock ticking quietly in the corner of his suite. "The actual combat brackets for the tournament won't officially commence until 10:00 in the morning. So..."
He stood up, admiring the distinct, newly formed V-taper of his torso in the reflection of his pristine, recently replaced gilded mirror.
"I have so much time to properly prepare my mind and—"
Rudeus abruptly stopped, his hand freezing mid-stretch as he scratched the back of his messy, forest-green hair. A crucial, logistical detail from the Academy's tournament rulebook suddenly slammed into his consciousness.
"Right! How could I possibly forget?" Rudeus gasped, his eyes widening in a brief flash of panic. "Because this is an official simulation, we aren't allowed to bring our own personal, pre-enchanted heirlooms or family weapons into the arena to ensure a baseline level of fairness! I need to go to the armory and officially select the weapon I need to use for the exam! Let's hurry up!"
He didn't have a personal weapon anyway—his chipped Poignant Dagger had been completely vaporized by the sheer conceptual force of his Interfector Deorum strike against the Demon God—but he needed to secure a high-quality piece of standard-issue Academy steel before all the good equipment was hoarded by the early risers.
Rudeus immediately abandoned his leisurely morning routine. He practically sprinted into the lavish, marble-tiled bathroom.
He turned the enchanted brass dials, subjecting himself to a freezing cold, three-minute military shower to instantly shock his nervous system awake and constrict his blood vessels. After exactly twenty-five minutes of rapid bathing, aggressive towel-drying, and meticulous grooming, he stepped out of the bathroom.
He rapidly pulled on the designated, dark-grey practical combat uniform. The fabric was highly durable, interwoven with minor kinetic-absorption threads, but it felt incredibly tight across his newly expanded chest and biceps.
After securing his boots and adjusting his bracers, he grabbed a pre-packaged, high-protein roast beef sandwich from his enchanted stasis-box, shoved it into his satchel, and hurriedly marched out of his bedroom, stepping into the private foyer of his dorm suite.
As he swung the main oak door open, intending to rush out into the hallway, he nearly collided with someone.
Standing right outside his door, holding a massive, empty wicker laundry basket and raising a hand as if preparing to knock, was Maria, the timid dormitory maid.
She flinched violently, stepping back and immediately dropping her gaze to the floor.
Rudeus effortlessly, fluidly dodged her, his enhanced agility making the evasion look like a choreographed dance.
"Sorry! I'm in a massive hurry this morning!" Rudeus called out, not breaking his stride as he moved past her toward the grand staircase.
He paused for a fraction of a second, looking back over his broad shoulder.
"And oh—!" Rudeus added, raising a finger. "Don't bother coming inside to gather my clothes for the laundry! I already washed them and hung them to dry by the window yesterday evening! And you're welcome!"
Without waiting for her bewildered response, he turned the corner and broke into a light, highly efficient tactical jog down the marble corridor.
In his past life, maintaining absolute control over his personal gear and hygiene was a fundamental requirement of Soldier discipline. Furthermore, he didn't want any of the maids poking around his suite, potentially stumbling across the heavily encrypted, treasonous escape maps and lore notes he had drafted in his diary. Doing his own laundry was a small price to pay for operational security.
Maria stood completely frozen in the hallway, clutching her empty wicker basket to her chest. She stared blankly at the empty space where the notoriously demanding, aristocratic 'Defect' had just stood.
She let out a long, deeply melancholy sigh, her shoulders slumping in profound dejection.
"That's... that's literally my job, y'know," Maria whispered to the empty air, her lower lip trembling slightly.
She felt an overwhelming sense of existential dread and profound uselessness. The nobility were supposed to be hopelessly, pathetically dependent on their servants for every basic function of daily life. If Lord Rudeus was suddenly apologizing, being polite, and meticulously doing his own laundry... what use was she? She was deeply saddened, feeling as though Rudeus had effectively stolen her entire occupational role within the Academy's ecosystem.
***
The Imperial Academy.The Grand Coliseum - Sector 7 (Practical Armory).07:23 AM.
Rudeus didn't just jog; he utilized the two-mile distance from the East Wing Noble Dormitories to the Grand Coliseum as his mandatory morning cardiovascular warm-up. He ran with long, measured, ground-eating strides, regulating his breathing in a perfect, rhythmic four-count pattern.
He arrived at the massive, open-air staging area located just beneath the towering stone bleachers of the Coliseum. This was the primary armory where the students were required to select their standardized, non-enchanted weaponry for the upcoming simulated tournament.
As he stepped out of the morning mist and into the armory courtyard, he spotted a highly familiar, broad-shouldered figure organizing a massive rack of training swords.
"Ohh, hey there, kiddo!"
Avalon Pendletree turned around, a bright, welcoming grin splitting his rugged face. He wiped a smear of weapon grease from his cheek with the back of his calloused hand.
"Why are you out here so early? The brackets haven't even been posted yet," Avalon asked, his vibrant brown eyes observing Rudeus closely.
Rudeus came to a halt, resting his hands on his hips. He deliberately exaggerated his breathing, bending forward slightly.
"Haah... haah... haah!" Rudeus gasped, putting on a mild theatrical performance of exhaustion to mask his true stamina levels. "I realized I completely forgot to come down here yesterday to choose what specific weapon I need to use for the tournament! Haah!"
Avalon raised a thick, highly impressed eyebrow. He looked past Rudeus, staring down the long, winding cobblestone path that led all the way back to the main campus.
"Wait a minute. Did you just run all the way from your dormitory in the East Wing all the way up here to the Coliseum?" Avalon asked, genuine astonishment coloring his boisterous voice.
"Yeah?" Rudeus replied, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.
"You know, you are really something else, kiddo. That is magnificent," Avalon praised, shaking his head in disbelief. "Because running from your dorm, up the incline, all the way to this sector is already incredibly far for a seasoned athlete. Hell, even I need to take a quick breather for like a minute when I run that route in full kit! But you! You really just ran from your dorm all the way up here like it was nothing, huh?"
Avalon threw his head back and laughed, a rich, booming sound that echoed off the stone walls of the armory.
"Geez. Next time, kid, you really don't need to panic and hurry up so intensely. Look at the time." Avalon pulled a tarnished silver pocket watch from his leather tunic, flicking it open. "It's exactly 7:23 in the morning right now. The armory doesn't even officially open for the students until eight."
Avalon reached down to his heavy leather belt, unhooking a large, military-grade metal canteen. He tossed it through the air.
"Here. Catch your breath and have some water before you collapse."
Rudeus snatched the heavy canteen out of the air with effortless, lightning-fast reflexes, catching it perfectly by the strap.
"Yeah. Thanks, Professor," Rudeus nodded respectfully. He unscrewed the cap and took several long, measured sips of the cold, crisp water, letting the chill soothe his throat.
"You're entirely welcome, kiddo," Avalon smiled, turning back to the massive racks of steel and iron. He gestured expansively with his arm. "Now, come over here. Take your time and find what specific weapon suits your personal combat tastes. I just finished oiling and arranging them."
Rudeus capped the canteen, tossed it back to Avalon, and stepped forward, entering the sprawling aisles of the outdoor armory.
"Hmm," Rudeus murmured, raising a hand to touch his chin as his crimson eyes critically scanned the dizzying array of standardized weaponry.
There were hundreds of weapons meticulously organized by class and weight. There were racks of elegant longswords, heavy broadswords, rapiers, halberds, pikes, battleaxes, and rows of pristine, beautifully crafted recurve bows and heavy crossbows.
'What should I use?' Rudeus thought inwardly, his tactical mind shifting into high gear as he ran his fingers lightly over the cold steel blades of a row of standard infantry swords.
'I don't like swords. They require too much finesse, and against heavily armored opponents or monsters with thick hides, an unenchanted blade will simply glance off or chip. And neither do I want to use spears.' He moved past the polearms. 'Too much required operational space. If a fast opponent gets inside the optimal striking range of a spear, you are effectively disarmed.'
He continued walking, bypassing the racks of massive, two-handed greatswords and the archery section.
'Nor do I want a greatsword; too slow for my current agility build. And bows are entirely out of the question. I am a Vanguard close-quarters specialist, not a cowardly backline sniper.'
He paused near a table displaying an assortment of wicked-looking curved blades and daggers. He ran his thumb over the edge of a trench knife, feeling a brief pang of nostalgia for the weapon he had used alongside Amanda.
'Nahh... not quite suited to my current tastes for this specific tournament,' Rudeus analyzed, shaking his head.
Even though Rudeus had extensively utilized daggers and combat knives in his past life on Earth, and had even used them during his brutal 'warming up' sessions with Amanda, he really didn't want to use them in an official arena setting. Daggers required getting intimately, dangerously close, and they lacked the sheer, overwhelming stopping power required to instantly incapacitate a magically shielded noble.
He needed something brutally pragmatic. Something that didn't rely on cutting an artery, but rather on utterly shattering the structural integrity of his opponent's bones and magical barriers.
Then, as he reached the very back of the armory, gathering dust in a dark, neglected corner, his eyes locked onto a single, isolated weapon resting on a wooden rack.
It was a weapon that seemed like absolutely no one else in the entire aristocratic academy had ever wanted to touch.
"Wait. Why is there only one single weapon of this specific type over here, Professor?" Rudeus asked, his voice echoing back toward the front of the armory.
Avalon wiped his hands on a rag and walked over, peering over Rudeus's broad shoulder at the weapon in question.
Avalon shrugged his massive shoulders. "I honestly don't know, kiddo. The aristocratic students here simply don't want to use a brutal, unrefined weapon like that. They consider it 'barbaric' and lacking in 'noble elegance'. They would much rather choose flashy swords to show off their swordsmanship forms, long spears to maintain distance, heavy axes if they are brutes, or bows and crossbows to avoid getting their hands dirty."
"I see..." Rudeus nodded slowly, a dark, incredibly satisfied grin spreading across his face.
He reached out and firmly grasped the leather-wrapped haft of the neglected weapon, lifting it from the rack.
It was heavy. Incredibly, wonderfully heavy.
'Right. How could I possibly forget?' Rudeus thought inwardly, his inner nerd momentarily overriding his hardened soldier persona. 'This is the exact same type of weapon that the Dark Lord Sauron used in The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit prologues.'
The weapon he had picked was none other than a massive, pitch-black, solid iron Six-Flanged War Mace.
It was an instrument designed for pure, unadulterated blunt-force trauma. The head of the mace consisted of six thick, angular flanges of hardened steel designed to bite into plate armor, shatter shields, and completely pulverize bone upon impact, regardless of the angle of the strike. Because Sauron had always been his absolute favorite fictional antagonist in his past life, and because there was only one single weapon of this brutal classification in the entire armory, the choice was divinely ordained.
He chose it because, after all, it spoke wholly and completely to his current identity. He was the villain of this story. He should arm himself like one.
'It seems you are also being completely rejected, isolated, and ignored by everyone in this stuck-up academy, huh, buddy?' Rudeus whispered inwardly, his thumb caressing the cold, black iron of the six flanges. 'We have a lot in common.'
Avalon stared at the boy, his brow furrowing in genuine concern as he watched Rudeus heft the brutal, ugly weapon.
"Tha-that's the weapon you are going to choose?" Avalon asked, his voice filled with skepticism. "Are you absolutely sure, kiddo? You know, you could use something significantly better. Something faster. A mace like that is incredibly slow, and it requires a massive amount of physical torque to swing effectively."
"Nah, this is purely, perfectly suited for my specific needs, Professor," Rudeus replied.
He swung the heavy mace in a casual, one-handed figure-eight pattern. Despite Avalon's warnings about the weight, Rudeus manipulated the heavy iron as if it were made of balsa wood, the newly forged muscles in his forearm rippling with effortless control.
Rudeus turned to face his instructor. He smiled, his crimson eyes locking onto the heavy iron flanges of the mace.
"It's perfectly suited to brutally crush the skulls and kill my opponents," Rudeus stated, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a sudden, terrifyingly authentic weight.
Avalon's vibrant brown eyes widened to the absolute limit. He physically took a half-step backward, genuinely alarmed by the cold, murderous sociopathy radiating from the teenager.
"Wh-what?!" Avalon stammered, his hand instinctively dropping toward the hilt of his own sword.
Seeing the genuine alarm on his favorite character's face, Rudeus immediately dropped the intense aura. He threw his head back and let out a loud, boisterous laugh, slapping his knee with his free hand.
"Hahahaha! I completely got you, Professor!" Rudeus laughed, pointing the handle of the mace at the stunned instructor. "Look at your face! That was a joke, y'know! I'm not going to kill anyone in a school tournament!"
Avalon stared at him for a long, tense second, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. He let out a long, heavy, incredibly relieved sigh, running a hand down his face.
"By The Goddess, kid. Don't joke around with a deadpan delivery like that. I thought you had finally snapped under the pressure," Avalon grumbled, shaking his head. He looked back at the brutal weapon. "Fine. Then is this your final decision? Is that the weapon you choose to register for the brackets?"
Rudeus nodded firmly, resting the heavy head of the mace against his shoulder.
"Yeah. I'm locking it in. After all, this weapon speaks to my soul."
"I see. I see," Avalon nodded, pulling a small ledger from his tunic and quickly jotting down Rudeus's name next to the inventory number for the mace. "I'll register it under your name. Just... try not to actually shatter anyone's spine tommorow, alright? The medics have enough paperwork."
"I make no promises. Then, goodbye for now, Professor. I will see you tomorrow at the opening ceremony," Rudeus offered a casual wave of his hand.
He didn't put the mace back on the rack. He strapped the heavy iron weapon securely to a leather loop on his left waist, letting it rest comfortably against his hip.
He turned and walked away, heading back out into the morning mist toward the main campus.
Avalon stood in the armory, leaning against a weapons rack, watching the broad, confident back of the green-haired boy disappear into the fog.
"Haah..." Avalon exhaled, a profound sense of bewilderment washing over him. "To think that even a high-born Blackfyre—a family known for their elegant, destructive magic and refined swordsmanship—would actively choose a brutal, unrefined trench-mace. He is really different, huh..."
Avalon paused, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"No."
Avalon corrected himself, a sense of awe mingling with a strange, protective apprehension.
"He isn't just different from his family. He is entirely different from all of us."
***
The Imperial Academy.The Grand Botanical Gardens - Eastern Quadrant.08:15 AM.
Rudeus was walking briskly through the lush, perfectly manicured pathways of the academy's grand botanical gardens. The morning sun was finally burning away the last of the mist, illuminating the vibrant, magical flora that bordered the cobblestone path.
He was walking happily, a genuine spring in his step.
"Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm..."
Rudeus was quietly humming a jaunty, upbeat military marching cadence under his breath. As he walked, his left hand rested comfortably on the cold iron flanges of the heavy war mace strapped to his waist, his fingers casually tapping out a rhythm against the metal.
He was in incredibly deep thought, meticulously running through a series of complex tactical scenarios in his mind. He was calculating the exact physical force required to break Aemond's knee without accidentally severing the femoral artery and killing him.
But as he rounded a large, blooming hedge of silver-leafed hydrangeas, his tactical daydreaming was abruptly shattered.
Standing roughly thirty yards ahead, admiring a rare magical orchid, was a young woman. Even from this distance, her signature, cascading silver-blue hair and her incredibly expensive, tailored uniform were unmistakable.
It was Princess Veronica Adnelia Van Rosania.
Rudeus stopped dead in his tracks. His humming ceased instantly.
'Uhh uhh. Nope. Absolutely not today. Not this time,' Rudeus thought, his internal alarms blaring.
He had absolutely zero desire to engage in another screaming match, receive another slap, or get bitten by the feral royal. He needed to preserve his excellent mood.
Without making a sound, Rudeus smoothly pivoted on his heel, executing a flawless, 180-degree tactical retreat. He intended to slip quietly down an intersecting gravel path and find an entirely different route back to the main academic halls.
"WAIT!"
The sharp, authoritative, and highly annoyed voice sliced through the tranquil ambiance of the garden, freezing him in place.
Rudeus closed his eyes, tilting his head back toward the sky. He let out a long, silent, agonized groan. His stealth had failed.
He slowly turned his head, looking back over his shoulder.
Veronica had abandoned the orchids. She was standing in the middle of the cobblestone path, glaring directly at him.
"Are you really, genuinely trying to run away from me?" Veronica demanded, her voice echoing with aristocratic indignation.
She took a few steps toward him. She raised a delicate, perfectly arched eyebrow, planting both of her gloved hands firmly on her narrow waist in a posture of absolute authority.
"Are you running away from your own politically mandated fiancée, Rudeus?" Veronica challenged, her oceanic blue eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Rudeus sighed heavily. The pleasant morning was officially ruined. He slowly turned his body completely around to face her, his hand dropping from the hilt of his mace to rest casually in his pocket.
"I-I wasn't running away. I just suddenly remembered that I forgot something important back at the armory, y'know?" Rudeus lied smoothly, offering a highly unconvincing, dismissive shrug.
"Really?" Veronica pressed, refusing to let him off the hook. She took another step closer, still holding her waist, her expression radiating profound skepticism. "You expect me to believe that you casually decided to execute a military about-face the exact second you laid eyes on me because you 'forgot' something?"
"Yea-yeah..." Rudeus started to formulate another excuse, but his patience evaporated. He dropped the pretense entirely.
"Fine! Yes! I admit it! I am actively, purposefully running away from you!" Rudeus replied, his voice rising, clearly annoyed by the confrontation.
"Why is that?" Veronica demanded, her pride stinging.
She didn't wait for his answer. Driven by a sudden, incredibly uncharacteristic surge of aggressive frustration, she marched the remaining distance between them. She completely breached standard aristocratic personal space boundaries, stepping directly into his guard.
She reached up with her gloved hands and forcefully grabbed the lapels of his dark-grey combat tunic, pulling him slightly forward.
"Are you scared of me?" Veronica asked, her voice dropping into a low, mocking, incredibly teasing tone as she looked up into his crimson eyes.
She was trying to assert dominance. She was trying to reclaim the power dynamic that had been shattered in this very garden just a day ago. She expected him to blush. She expected him to stammer, apologize, and revert to the trembling, pathetic defect he used to be.
Rudeus didn't blush. He didn't stammer. He looked down at her small hands gripping his uniform, and then looked back up into her eyes, his expression utterly deadpan.
"No. I am not even remotely scared of you," Rudeus replied, his voice dripping with dry, caustic sarcasm. He offered a cold, patronizing smirk. "It's just that your face is damn annoying to look at this early in the morning."
He openly mocked her right back.
Veronica's oceanic eyes widened in shock. The teasing smirk was instantly wiped from her flawless face, replaced by a flush of genuine, fiery indignation.
"Tsk! That wretched, sharp tongue of yours..." Veronica hissed, violently clicking her tongue against her teeth, her grip tightening on his lapels.
"Is that all you wanted?" Rudeus asked, his tone shifting from sarcastic to completely cold and businesslike. "Because if you literally only called me over here to try and establish some weird physical dominance and mock me again, then I really need to hurry up and get out of here. I'm incredibly busy today, and I don't have time for your childish games."
Rudeus raised his hands. With zero hesitation and a complete disregard for gentle handling, he grabbed her wrists and forcefully, effortlessly peeled her gloved hands off his collar, stepping back to reestablish his personal space.
He turned his back on her, fully intending to walk away and leave her fuming in the flowers.
"Wa-wait!" Veronica shouted, her voice suddenly losing its authoritative edge, cracking with a sudden, desperate panic.
Rudeus stopped, but he didn't turn around. He just sighed toward the trees.
"I need..." Veronica stammered to his broad back, her hands hovering awkwardly in the air.
"You need what, Princess?" Rudeus asked, slowly turning his head to look at her over his shoulder, raising a single, highly skeptical eyebrow.
"I need..." Veronica tried again, her face turning an incredibly dark, mortified shade of crimson.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"Argh! Why is this so incredibly hard?!" Veronica groaned, violently gritting her teeth, her fists clenching at her sides. She looked clearly, profoundly annoyed with herself.
"Hard what?" Rudeus pressed, sensing her profound discomfort and deciding to twist the knife a little. He turned fully around, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Is it hard that you, the untouchable, independent royal, have to actually swallow your pride and try to ask someone for help? And worse... you have to ask a man for help, Princess~?"
Rudeus delivered the line in a sickeningly mocking, sing-song tone, perfectly weaponizing her established 'Man Hater' complex against her.
Veronica didn't snap back. She didn't shriek or attempt to slap him again. She just stood there, her face burning, staring furiously at the cobblestones.
Rudeus let out a long, disappointed sigh.
"If that's really all you have to say, then I'll go. Have a nice life staring at the ground."
He turned around and took a decisive step down the path.
"WAIT!"
Veronica lunged forward. She didn't grab his collar this time. She reached out with both hands and desperately grabbed the heavy, muscular fabric of his shoulder, her grip trembling.
Rudeus stopped. He looked down at her hands on his shoulder, then looked into her face.
Veronica looked up at him. The haughty arrogance was entirely gone. She let out a long, shuddering sigh, her oceanic eyes filled with a terrifying, profound desperation that Rudeus couldn't quite comprehend.
"Be my partner?" Veronica whispered, the words rushing out of her mouth as if she were tearing off a bandage.
Rudeus stared at her, completely blanking for a full three seconds.
"Partner for what?" Rudeus asked, raising a deeply confused eyebrow.
"For-for..." Veronica stammered, her gaze dropping back to his chest.
She suddenly looked incredibly, uncharacteristically small. To Rudeus's absolute bewilderment, the First Princess of the Empire began to shyly, nervously twiddle her index fingers together, a massive pout forming on her delicate lips as she struggled to voice her request.
"Be my designated Vanguard partner for the First-Year Simulation Exam next day after tomorrow!" Veronica finally shouted, closing her eyes and practically bracing for an impact.
Rudeus stood there in absolute, unadulterated shock.
He stared at the girl. He was shocked by the sheer absurdity of what she had just requested, and he was even more profoundly shocked to witness this arrogant, terrifying royalty acting like a shy, blushing schoolgirl twiddling her fingers.
'This... this should absolutely not be happening,' Rudeus thought, his mind racing frantically as the internal alarms blared at maximum volume.
His encyclopedic knowledge of the game's canonical lore violently rejected the current reality.
'In the original storyline of the game, even though this event takes place five years before the main plot actually starts... Princess Veronica definitively, canonically enters this simulation exam completely solo. I know this for a fact. It's explicitly stated in her backstory. It's a core part of the mechanics—it's entirely the student's own choice whether they want to enter the simulation with a designated partner or go in solo to prove their absolute individual superiority.'
Rudeus narrowed his eyes, staring at the trembling girl before him.
'So what the absolute hell is happening right now?! She is genuinely, actively asking me to be her partner? Worse, she is a woman who canonically possesses a severe "Man Hater" complex and violently despises my very existence. This is a massive, inexplicable deviation from the established lore.'
Rudeus didn't know about her System. He didn't know about the terrifying 'Bad Ending' she had been forced to watch, or the mandatory quest parameters she was currently forced to fulfill under the threat of death. He only knew that this deviation spelled unpredictable danger to his own survival plans.
Rudeus slowly shook his head, his expression hardening into an absolute, uncompromising refusal.
"No can do, Princess," Rudeus stated flatly, his voice brokering absolutely zero room for negotiation. "I have already made up my mind. I am going into the simulation entirely solo. So, you are going to have to choose someone else to drag down with you."
He casually waved his hand, dismissing her entirely, and turned to walk away.
But Veronica didn't let go. She tightened her grip on his shoulder, her nails digging into the fabric of his tunic.
"Plea-please..."
Veronica's voice cracked.
Rudeus paused. He looked back over his shoulder.
To his absolute horror, massive, heavy tears had begun to well up in her oceanic blue eyes, spilling over her lashes and rapidly tracking down her flushed cheeks. She wasn't throwing a tantrum this time. She was genuinely weeping.
'Please, for the love of God, don't tell me she is actually weaponizing crying to try and manipulate me into agreeing,' Rudeus groaned inwardly, letting out a heavy, incredibly tired sigh.
He turned around to face her, hardening his heart. He was a veteran. He had watched good men die screaming. The tears of a spoiled Princess were not going to alter his tactical trajectory.
"Look, Princess," Rudeus said, his voice entirely devoid of sympathy, cold and clinical. "As I explicitly just said, I want to enter the simulation solo. And furthermore, since you actively, visibly hate me, and I actively, visibly despise you back, there is absolutely no logical reason why we should ever be partners in a life-or-death simulation. We would end up killing each other before the monsters even got to us. So..."
He reached up and firmly detached her trembling hands from his shoulder.
"Try to find some other pathetic, sycophantic noble to convince to be your meat-shield partner. I am not interested."
Rudeus turned his back on her for the final time and began to briskly walk away down the cobblestone path.
Veronica stood alone on the path, watching his broad back retreating.
Panic—pure, blinding, existential panic—seized her heart. She violently clenched her fists at her sides.
She knew the stakes. If she failed to secure him as a partner, she would instantly fail Objective 3. If she failed the objective, the System would enforce the penalty. Her ultimate demise would happen. The horrifying 'Bad Ending' she had watched in the void—Amanda's severed head, the cold pistol in her mouth—would become her inescapable, guaranteed reality.
She couldn't let him walk away. She had to offer him the one thing he couldn't refuse.
"I'LL—I'LL ANNUL OUR MARRIAGE CONTRACT!" Veronica shrieked at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing wildly through the serene botanical gardens.
Rudeus's heavy combat boots stopped dead on the cobblestones.
His crimson eyes widened to the absolute limit. He slowly, very slowly, turned his head to look back at her.
"Wh-what." Rudeus stated, entirely baffled, questioning if he had actually heard her correctly over the sound of his own racing thoughts.
"I said, I will officially, legally annul our Imperial engagement if that's what you truly want!" Veronica shouted, her voice shaking with desperation, tears streaming freely down her face. She took a step toward him, throwing her royal pride entirely into the dirt.
"I will take the entire blame! Just please... just please be my designated partner for this simulation exam."
She stepped closer, clasping her hands together in front of her chest.
"Please..."
She looked up at him, deploying the ultimate, devastating weapon in her arsenal: she hit him with the most pathetic, desperate, wide-eyed "puppy dog eyes" he had ever seen in his entire life.
Rudeus stared at her, completely paralyzed.
He let out a long, slow sigh, his tactical mind immediately abandoning the previous plan and pivoting to analyze this massive new variable.
'Wait a damn minute. That's actually not a bad idea at all,' Rudeus thought, his gears grinding rapidly.
'If I accept her desperate proposal... if I agree to carry her through this simulation exam as her partner, then she will officially annul the engagement. And if the engagement is officially broken...'
Rudeus's crimson eyes gleamed with a sudden, brilliant realization.
'It will give me a 100% guaranteed chance to escape this Empire without the Royal Vanguard actively hunting me down as a missing high-value political asset! I won't have to fake my death! I can just walk away as a free, unattached man!'
It was the golden ticket he had been desperately searching for.
Rudeus turned fully around, squaring his shoulders. His expression hardened into a serious, uncompromising mask.
"Fine. I will accept your offer to be your partner," Rudeus stated, his voice ringing with authority. "But—!"
"But what?!" Veronica gasped, swiping a tear from her cheek, relief warring with anxiety.
"You will be the one to hold absolute, total responsibility for the political fallout of the annulment! Not me!" Rudeus demanded, setting the uncompromising terms of the contract. "You will tell the Emperor it was your decision. You will deal with my father. I take none of the blame."
Veronica stared at him. The weight of what she was agreeing to crashed down upon her. Taking the blame for breaking an Imperial decree would infuriate her father and potentially destabilize the northern borders.
But it was infinitely better than putting a gun in her mouth.
For a grueling, tense minute, the garden was completely silent save for the rustling of the leaves.
Finally, Veronica let out a heavy, resigned sigh.
"Fine," Veronica agreed, her voice trembling but resolute. "I will be held entirely responsible for the annulment. But—!"
Her oceanic eyes hardened, flashing with a desperate fire.
"You must absolutely promise me that you will be my partner. You cannot back out. Because if you don't—!"
"I never go back on my word, Princess. Especially since you offered me such an incredibly nice deal," Rudeus interrupted smoothly.
He didn't wait for her to finish. He walked briskly back toward her, closing the distance between them in three long strides.
He didn't bow. He didn't offer a polite handshake.
He reached out and firmly grasped the lapels of her pale blue silk dress—the exact same aggressive, dominant gesture she had used on him minutes earlier. He pulled her slightly forward, forcing her to look up into his terrifying, crimson eyes.
"After all," Rudeus said, leaning down until his lips were mere inches from her ear. His voice dropped to a low, incredibly dangerous, conspiratorial whisper that sent shivers down her spine.
"That annulment is the absolute only thing I have wanted from you from the very first place."
He pulled back slightly, locking his eyes with hers.
"Do we have a firm, unbreakable deal, Princess?" Rudeus asked, his voice cold and final.
Veronica swallowed hard, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She looked into his eyes and saw no love, no hesitation, only ruthless calculation.
"Yes," Veronica whispered softly, her voice barely audible.
Rudeus immediately let go of his grip on her collar. He took a step back, smoothing his own tunic.
He offered a casual, incredibly insincere two-fingered salute, turned on his heel, and walked away down the cobblestone path without looking back.
Veronica stood alone in the botanical garden, watching him disappear. Her chest was heaving, her dress was slightly rumpled, and her heart was racing.
Suddenly, the air in front of her shimmered.
The familiar, glowing blue System window popped up, hovering perfectly in her line of sight.
[Congratulations on successfully completing Objective Number 3.]
[ 3 out of 4 Objectives left to be accomplished to avert your Demise. ]
Veronica stared at the glowing white text. A massive, shuddering breath of profound relief escaped her lips.
Despite the humiliation, despite the terrifying deal she had just made with the devil she used to torment... she had taken the first real step toward surviving.
Slowly, tentatively, a genuine, hopeful smile spread across Princess Veronica's face as she looked at the glowing window, the morning sun finally feeling warm against her skin.