I Got Reincarnated as a Gluttonous King with a System

The silence after the fight was deafening.

The nobles who had not fled stood frozen at the edges of the room, staring at me as if I might attack them next. The coppery smell of blood clung to the air, thick and nauseating. I wanted to move, to run, but my legs felt like lead.

Then it appeared.

A faint chime echoed in my ears, and a glowing window materialized before me, floating in midair like something out of a video game.

STATUS WINDOW

Name: Alaric Varelius

Title: King of Varestia

Level: 7

Health: 42/100

Mana: 25/60

Strength: 15 (+3)

Agility: 12 (+2)

Endurance: 10 (+1)

Intelligence: 13 (+2)

Charisma: 18 (+4)

Unique Skills:

Gluttony (Active): Absorb stats, skills, and memories from slain enemies.

Regression (Passive): Return to a fixed point upon death, retaining all progress.

I stared at the floating window, with my heart pounding inside my chest. No, this was no dream. Nor was it a hallucination. The pain; the blood; the glowing letter was all too real.

It didn't feel like mine, though. King Alaric Varelius. I repeated the name in my head, testing its weight. It sounded regal, commanding, completely out of place with the person I used to be.

But there it was-written in glowing gold for everyone to see. My name. My title. My. stats.

Numbers that meant nothing to me but made me remember one thing, the +3s and +2s beside the attributes didn't seem normal. This is the work of Gluttony, isn't it? I gulped hard as the screams of the assassins flash through my mind.

"Level 7," I muttered under my breath. "What does that even mean?"

Another window seemed to answer it.

SKILLS GAINED

Blade Proficiency (Tier 1)

Stealth (Tier 1)

Memory Fragment Acquired

I hardly had time enough to realize the words before the world changed direction.

All this-the blood-soaked room, the nobles, even the torches flickering on the walls-all of it dissolved in a cold, blank emptiness.

Then came the voices.

"You think I don't see what you're doing?"

It was not my voice, although it issued from my mouth. It was harder, more demanding, dripping with venom. Alaric's voice.

I stood—or rather he did—in the same throne room, though of course it looked different. Cleaner. Wanner. The air was loaded with tension, the visages of the nobles on every side of me overshadowed and obscured.

But one man stood out. Tall, with sharp features and an air of practiced arrogance, his robes embroidered with the crest of a noble house I didn't recognize, were as elaborate as his smile.

"Now now, Sir Majesty," said the man soothingly while spreading his arms, with false innocence. "Why do you ever need to think me a conspirator? Am I not devotedly always serving the crown?"

"Faithfully," Alaric echoed, his voice bitter. "Yes, so faithful that you've siphoned funds meant for the city guard to line your own coffers. So faithful that your estates expand while my people starve. And so faithful that you would dare raise a blade against your king in the shadows of this very court."

The noble stiffened, his mask slipping for a second.

"You've overstepped, Eravon," Alaric continued, stepping forward. His crimson eyes brimmed with fury. "You think I'm blinded?" he said. "You think I don't understand the poison you have sowed, the alliances you made? You and your lot want the crown? So then come and take it.

The scene ended in blur of motion—a sudden flash of steel, a choking gasp, and the sensation of falling.

I jolted back to reality, gasping for air. 

My knees hit the cold stone floor as the weight of the memory crashed over me. My chest heaved and sweat trickled down my temple, despite the chill.

It wasn't mine, but it felt real—so real it left a phantom ache in my ribs where the blade had pierced me. That name. Eravon. I looked up at the nobles still lingering in the corners of the room. Their faces blurred together, but I swore I caught a flicker of fear in their eyes.

Did one of them know that name? Were they part of this. conspiracy? I had no idea what the kind of world I had thrown myself into was, but surely it was clear that - My fists were clenched, and the metallic smell of blood stung my nose. 

Alaric had enemies. And now, so did I.