Sam leaned forward, his body tense but his eyes calm, a single thought burning in his mind:
I am not going down like the last fifty times.
He waited, heart pounding in his ears, for Zorro to burst forward.
And Zorro didn't disappoint.
The hulking figure lunged with force that cracked the ground beneath his feet, his fist cocked back like a hammer about to fall. Dust flared in his wake, his green spiked hair bristling like blades of grass under a storm.
It was the same move, the same merciless pattern Sam had been forced to endure in his endless cycle of death. A straight, brutal punch aimed at his face.
Sam slipped away—dropping into his own shadow like water swallowing him whole. Zorro's massive fist smashed into empty air, the impact rattling nearby debris.
Half a second later, Sam surged upward, emerging behind him. He drove his fist into Zorro's ribs.
CLANG.
The blow did almost nothing. The steel body barely flinched.
But Sam didn't panic. Not this time. He had a plan.
Zorro whirled with frightening speed for his size, launching another punch. Sam vanished again, the shadow swallowing him just in time.
Through dozens of deaths, he had learned. He had studied. Every reset had sharpened his instincts, teaching him how to make the shadow respond faster, smoother. Now he could slip away at a moment's notice, vanishing before the killing blow landed.
Emerging once more, he twisted and launched a high kick at Zorro's head. His foot connected with the metallic jaw, sending a shockwave through his own bones. Pain lanced up his leg, but Zorro's head jerked to the side.
Sam didn't stop.
He followed with a flurry of strikes, ignoring the agony tearing through his hands. A punch to the temple. A jab to the nose. A sharp kick to the groin.
Each blow ripped his skin open against Zorro's hardened body, his knuckles splitting, his legs bruising. Still, he pushed forward.
How can I stop now, when I am so close?
"No matter what happens… even if my bones break and the blood in my body dries up—I will not stop until I get the hell out of this place!" Sam roared, forcing his body past its limits.
Zorro staggered under the onslaught. When he retaliated, his fists met only air as Sam dropped into the shadows, reappearing at impossible angles.
The battle became a deadly dance. Zorro's strikes tore through space, brutal but predictable. Sam, battered and bloodied, slipped, evaded, and countered—each move buying him precious seconds.
It looked as though his strikes barely scratched the surface. But in truth, Sam wasn't striking blindly. He was biding his time, targeting places that mattered—joints, nerves, soft spots even steel couldn't completely protect.
And then, finally, Zorro faltered.
His massive body lurched, his steps uneven, almost collapsing under his own weight.
Sam's lips curled into a grim smile. The repeated hits were paying off. Not all at once, but slowly, steadily—they had been wreaking havoc inside the monster's armored shell.
"Now!"
Sam darted forward, his fist cocked back. With all the strength he had left, he slammed his knuckles into Zorro's solar plexus.
The giant wheezed as the air exploded from his chest. His massive body buckled, crashing onto the ground.
"Ha… finally… he's down." Sam gasped, his shoulders sagging as adrenaline drained from him. His body trembled. Finally… I can rest.
But the nightmare wasn't done with him yet.
Zorro stirred. Slowly, impossibly, he pushed himself back onto his feet. His glowing eyes locked onto Sam with silent fury.
Sam's heart sank. That last strike had been everything. It should've finished him. But Zorro had hardened his torso just before impact, dulling the blow.
"I… I can't win." Sam's thoughts wavered, despair coiling in his chest.
But then, another voice rose inside him. No. I've come this far. I can't lose. Not here. Not now.
He clenched his fists, forcing his body to steady. Think, Sam. What's his weakness? He doesn't harden his entire body at once. Only the parts I hit. That means there are always places left vulnerable… if I can just hold him still long enough.
A crazy idea flashed through his mind. I've only ever used shadow drop on myself… but what if I tried it on him?
As Zorro lumbered closer, Sam reached out—not with his fists, but with his will. He focused on the shadow beneath Zorro's feet.
The moment he touched it with his mind, a strange sensation surged through him. The shadows weren't just empty darkness. They felt alive. Foreign. Like a wild beast waiting to be tamed.
Normally, mastering such a power would've taken days, maybe weeks. But endless deaths had forced him to adapt at lightning speed.
The shadows rippled.
Then, as Sam clenched his teeth and imagined them crawling upward, they obeyed.
Dark tendrils erupted from the ground, coiling around Zorro's massive frame. They wrapped his legs, his torso, climbing higher and higher until they bound him up to the neck.
For the first time, Zorro froze. His fists jerked helplessly against the dark restraints, his glowing eyes narrowing in rage.
Sam's heart pounded. It worked.
Without hesitation, he sprinted forward. The shadows trembled, their grip already weakening. He had only seconds.
He closed the distance. His arm drew back, fingers pointed like a spear.
The shadows flickered.
Sam thrust.
His hand drove straight into Zorro's eyes.
The giant let out a guttural scream as his massive body toppled backward, shaking the ground. The shadows dissipated. Silence returned to the ruined world.
"Finally… he's down." Sam panted, his lungs burning, his body barely able to stand. His vision blurred, his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground.
The last of his adrenaline drained away, leaving only exhaustion. Darkness claimed him.
---
Sam's real body jolted awake.
He lay tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, his face streaked with tears and snot. His blanket was on the floor, his pillow twisted out of shape. His chest heaved as he gasped for air.
"Ha… ha… ha… so it was just a dream." His voice shook as he looked around his dimly lit room.
The clock read a little past five in the morning.
"I never thought a dream could feel that real. Is it because of this?" Sam muttered, pulling the VR headset from his head. The strange device Pete had given him gleamed faintly where it connected.
"One thing's for sure—I'm not going back to sleep. Not after that." His voice cracked with lingering panic.
His jaw clenched. "That bastard Pete… he never warned me about this."
He sat in silence, trying to calm the storm in his chest. Slowly, his mind drifted back to the battle, replaying every desperate second.
"That last move… what should I call it? Instead of shadow dropping me, it bound him for a few seconds."
He rubbed his chin, still trembling from the memory. "Shadow grip? Shadow hold? Hmmm…"
A small smile crept onto his lips as the answer came to him.
"I've got it."
"I'll call it… Shadow Bind."
******