I Became the Commander in a Trash Game Who Copies Skills

Chapter 20. Deployment (1)

In poker, there’s a rule where you selectively reveal your cards.

It’s called Seven Card Stud.

On the first turn, you get three cards and reveal one.

Over the next three turns, one card each.

On the final turn, you get one hidden card.

The last players standing compete with seven cards.

The key is the first turn.

You choose which of the three cards to reveal.

A strong card or a weak one—it’s your call.

The realm of psychological warfare called bluffing.

“Hey, mercenary. Any last words?”

Here’s a tip.

In any game requiring bluffing, this applies universally.

If you have a strong hand, act weak.

Lure the opponent into a bigger mistake.

If you have a weak hand?

Simple.

Act as strong as you can.

“None? Figures. A mercenary chasing a priestess' tail.”

If necessary, hypnotize yourself.

As if the universe’s energy is yours.

The better your bluff, the more likely the opponent will back down.

Winning without fighting.

Especially effective in reality, where the stakes are a single life.

Everyone wants to live.

The paladin swung his sword.

“Die.”

“Let go! Noble One…!!”

[I activated Holy Aura.]

[I activated Imperial Knight Swordsmanship.]

Clang!

The swords clashed.

The white auras on both blades repelled each other like magnets.

I quickly withdrew, waiting for the next strike.

But the paladin seemed to lack fighting spirit.

After one clash, he leaped back.

“Holy Aura!”

His pupils dilated.

His mouth agape.

He was clearly rattled.

Understandably.

A paladin’s Holy Aura or a priest’s miracle was proof of divine blessing.

“I never imagined… a brother.”

Such religious skills were badges of status.

Even in the game, acquiring them was no small feat.

You had to devote yourself to the religion, build faith through prayer or deeds,

and wait endlessly for a divine blessing that might never come.

In a harsh reality, few welcomed such waiting in a game.

Seeing my aura, the paladin’s attitude flipped 180 degrees.

Lowering his sword, he asked cautiously,

“…What’s your name? Your affiliation?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Back to the start.

I’d played my strongest card, Holy Aura.

So, I had to act as strong as possible.

Strength here meant status, not might.

Not only was it uncertain I could beat a paladin without Vampire School spells, but killing one near the church would be insane.

The church was a hierarchical structure.

I could win without crossing blades.

The question was which status to assume.

The answer was already set.

“You won’t state your affiliation…”

“Talking down?”

Let’s instill some manners first.

“Does the doctrine permit speaking down to brothers?”

“…Your affiliation first.”

“Emenser 4:2. Treat all brothers and sisters as yourself. Philip 18:9. Those under the same light are limbs of the church, to be treated as your own body.”

“I…”

“Paladin Code, Article 11. A paladin uses respectful language with brothers.”

“…May I know your affiliation?”

Confusion clouded his eyes.

His mind must be full of question marks.

Wielding Holy Aura freely while disguised as a mercenary.

Speaking casually yet citing scripture and doctrine precisely.

“My affiliation? You really want to know?”

Even a dim-witted paladin would know who in the church could pull this off.

A fleeting clarity of fear passed through his confused eyes.

He’d found the answer.

Correct.

The one thing a necromancer like me feared most.

“Y-You’re… an inquisitor…!”

“Quiet.”

“Y-Yes, sir!”

An inquisitor who judged heretics.

A high-ranking one capable of undercover work.

The paladin, pale as death, dropped to one knee.

“I-It was a mistake. I swear, I never meant to…”

“Silence. Want to cause a scene?”

“…I’m sorry.”

I sheathed my sword and crossed my arms.

I stared down at him silently for a while.

A superior’s silence unnerved a subordinate.

I shifted my gaze to Alina.

The paladin’s squires had already let her go, at a loss.

A quick glare, and they dropped to the ground.

Alina’s expression was stiff from the unexpected turn.

I winked at her subtly and asked the paladin,

“Do you know who Acolyte Alina is?”

“…The heiress of the Pewin Viscounty.”

“Yes. Viscount Pewin is one of the church’s greatest patrons.”

“….”

“You understand what I’m saying.”

The paladin nodded slowly, head bowed.

I approached and leaned down, whispering in his ear.

“Know your place, paladin.”

[I activated Lord’s Unyielding Mind.]

Softly.

But with authority.

“Protecting Acolyte Alina is fine. It’s a paladin’s duty. But that doesn’t mean you can burden her. Stay far and out of sight.”

“…Yes.”

“If her lips speak your name negatively again…”

I deliberately trailed off.

Standing straight, I stepped back and nodded for him to leave.

He bowed and fled with his squires.

“…Phew.”

Only after their shadows vanished did I let out a held breath.

Damn this luck-based garbage game.

I navigated the crisis well…

But it felt like the misunderstandings kept piling up.

As I clicked my tongue, Alina approached cautiously.

“An… inquisitor?”

“What? No, that’s…”

“Oh, truly, you were chosen by God…”

…The misunderstanding deepened a bit.

***

After the midnight incident, time flew by.

“Shields up! Advance!”

“Advance!”

[The swordsmen activated Spear Wall: Advance.]

“Disperse! Prepare individually!”

“Individually!”

[The crossbowmen activated Disperse Formation.]

Morning training showed progress.

The mercenaries’ movements improved daily.

Not flawless, but unified enough for basic maneuvers.

For a band with varied skill levels, it was a success.

“Great job, everyone!”

“Haha! See, we can do it!”

The lieutenants and members were thrilled.

A good sign.

They felt accomplishment in growing together.

Rolling in the dirt daily had tightened their bonds.

It wasn’t just the members who grew.

[Acquired a trait.]

[Basic Stamina]

[The stamina of an average adult male.]

Over two weeks of training earned me a new trait.

Unlike [Initiate’s Mana], this was gained through pure effort, no elixir.

Honestly, it felt more exhausting than rewarding.

I lost count of how many times I nearly passed out.

The feeling of breathlessness was almost familiar.

“That’s why Warrior’s Insight is so overpowered.”

Traits were as hard to earn as skills.

Especially level 4+ skills required talent to even approach.

Acquiring them with one glance was absurd.

And mastering them instantly? Beyond reason.

There were restrictions, though.

During training breaks, I experimented with Karen.

The “combat” condition seemed trickier than expected.

Boom!

Five arrows slammed into my mana shield in succession.

Karen used [Rapid Shot] on me.

The arrows flew too fast to see.

Some even pierced halfway through the shield.

“Captain!”

“….”

What’s with the panic?

“Are you okay?”

“…Yeah.”

I wasn’t dead, so I was fine.

But seeing arrowheads inches from my face…

How many would be okay with that?

“Let’s stop training here.”

“No! Am I really getting kicked out…?”

Karen teared up and sank to the ground.

I wasn’t planning to fire her—why did she keep assuming that?

I calmed her down and sent her off, then sat cross-legged in the training ground.

After two weeks of experiments, I reached a conclusion about Warrior’s Insight’s “combat” condition.

“There needs to be killing intent.”

Training and combat were distinct.

No matter how realistic mock training was, one thing was hard to replicate:

The intent to kill.

The instinct to survive.

Combat meant one side died.

That mindset was different from training.

A single swing failing to kill meant it was your turn next.

Even duels or sparring couldn’t fully capture that urgency.

That subtle difference dulled weapons.

Skills couldn’t reach their full potential.

“Most skills are combat techniques, so it’s a convincing theory.”

Non-combat skills’ conditions were unclear, but…

Trying to acquire skills through sparring was a dead end.

“Olif, a high-ranking knight, could swing with killing intent… but the risk is too high. Better hold off for now.”

Not just because his sword could kill me.

I had to keep Warrior’s Insight a secret.

It absorbed swordsmanship, spells, and miracles indiscriminately.

It went beyond mere “talent.”

If I kept using my allies’ secret techniques, someone would eventually find it suspicious.

Doubts could arise from within or without.

They might recall the Burken Fortress incident.

Was I the one who used [Infernal Meteor]?

The Imperial Church was merciless toward the Vampire School.

The next day, an inquisitor’s bullet would be in my head.

“It sounds extreme, but it could happen.”

This was the “Inferno difficulty” reality.

Most probability rolls went against me.

That’s why I had to head to the battlefield.

A place where countless spells and techniques were displayed, where no one would suspect my acquisitions.

“…Phew.”

I steadied my breathing and closed my eyes.

Feeling my mana pool slowly expand, I sank into meditation.

A week later, The conquest war’s departure ceremony was held.