"I guess I won.
Somewhere between wildly mashing buttons, crying in Latin, and trying to master a majestic longsword that apparently has the accuracy of a drunk pigeon, I emerged victorious. The swords lit up, some glowing figure gave me the nod, and boom—'YOU WIN.' Do I know how? Absolutely not. Do I care? Also no.

Fair fight? Not even remotely. The final showdown was three-on-one (guess who was the one), and before that, it was a tag team buffet of two-on-ones. At some point, I think the enemies stopped fighting me and just started hosting a roast. One guy monologued for so long I had time to check if my fridge light still works.

But hey, I didn’t show up for balance. I showed up to press buttons dramatically and hope something cool happened—and it did!
To my enemies: solid effort. To my teammates: lol what teammates?
And after all that effort, the game still subtly hinted that I should probably not apply to sword-fighting school. Which is fair. My technique is 80% flailing and 20% yelling 'HYAAH!' at the screen."