Orion had died one hundred and thirteen times.
No—
to be precise, he had watched the only people who ever treated him like a human die one hundred and thirteen times. And each time, he stole a fragment of their soul just to keep breathing.
Name: Orion
Class: Servant
Rank: E
Current Master Count: 113 → 114 (pending)
The Abyss did not have a sky.
It had a ceiling—
a churning mass of black clouds knotted together like exposed organs, leaking violet lightning that dripped downward like blood from an open wound. The ground beneath Orion's knees was a graveyard of shattered armor and powdered bone. Every breath tasted of rust and regret.
He knelt, palms pressed flat against cold shards of steel, waiting.
THUD.
THUD.
Bootsteps. Heavy. Deliberate.
A mountain of black iron stopped before him.
Crimson eyes ignited within a helm shaped like a dragon's skull. The presence alone bent the air.
The new master.
Name: Kargan
Class: Berserker
Rank: A+
Temper: Catastrophic.
Kargan looked down at Orion the way one might look at a blood-soaked rag discarded after battle.
"So," he rumbled, voice like gravel dragged across steel, "you're the Servant that refuses to stay dead."
Orion did not answer. Servants were not paid to speak unless commanded.
Kargan snorted. "Fine. From now until you break, you're my shield. Stand."
Orion's body moved before his thoughts could rebel.
Chains carved into his soul constricted—
[PROTOCOL LAW #2 ACTIVATED]
You must obey every direct order.
He rose.
Kargan spat to the side. "Name?"
"Orion, Lord—"
"Don't call me Master," Kargan snapped. "Makes me want to puke. Call me Lord Kargan."
"Yes, Lord Kargan."
Satisfied—or simply bored—Kargan turned his back and began walking toward the distant screams of war.
Orion followed.
Three steps behind. One step to the left.
The position of a Servant.
Close enough to intercept any blow aimed at the master's spine.
Far enough that no one could mistake him for an equal.
They crossed a battlefield layered with yesterday's corpses. Some still twitched; shadows took longer to die than flesh. Orion stepped over a Soldier-class shadow whose face had been crushed inward.
Its hollow eyes followed him.
He recognized that stare.
He had worn it for his first thirty masters.
Kargan stopped abruptly.
"Listen, rag," he growled. "The Winged Monarch's legion is pushing again. We're the rearguard."
Orion remained silent.
"That means we die first so the important people can retreat." Kargan turned his head slightly. "You understand?"
"Yes, Lord Kargan."
"When I say block, you block. When I say die, you die. If you hesitate even once, I'll carve the Protocol out of your soul and feed it to the hounds."
A grin split the dragon helm. Tusks gleamed.
"Clear?"
"Crystal clear."
Kargan laughed and kept walking.
Orion followed.
He had done this one hundred and thirteen times.
He would do it again.
The battle began without ceremony.
One moment—silence.
The next, the horizon split open with a shriek of torn reality, and an ocean of white-winged shadows poured through.
Seraph Knights.
The Winged Monarch's elite.
Each one worth a hundred shadows like him.
Kargan roared with laughter and charged.
Orion ran after him.
FWOOM—!
Arrows of condensed holy fire rained down like judgment itself. Kargan swatted them aside with a greataxe the size of a warhorse.
Orion stayed in his shadow.
Literally.
His body flickered between solidity and smoke—
the single mercy granted to Servant-class. He consumed almost no mana. Disposable. Replaceable.
A Seraph Knight dove from above, six wings blazing. Its spear aimed straight for Kargan's heart.
"BLOCK IT, SERVANT!"
The Protocol snapped Orion's spine straight.
His legs moved.
He threw himself forward.
SCHLK—!
The spear punched through his chest.
Pain was familiar.
He cataloged it. Indexed it. Filed it away.
Orion clamped both hands around the spear, anchoring it in place.
The Seraph Knight froze, porcelain mask tilting in disbelief.
A Servant… resisting?
Kargan's axe answered.
CRACK—!
The knight's head flew.
Black blood sprayed across Orion's face—his blood, the knight's blood. It all tasted the same.
He collapsed.
HP: 3 / 1200
The hole in his chest steamed as shadows began the slow, agonizing work of knitting flesh together. Only masters received instant healing.
Kargan didn't look back.
They kept moving.
Ten minutes later, it happened again.
Then again.
Then again.
By the time the main army had retreated, Orion had died four times in miniature. Each time he was used as a living wall. Each time he crawled back together just slowly enough that Kargan never noticed the truth—
He was getting stronger.
Every death taught him something.
Every corpse whispered its final skill into his ear.
He hid the growth.
He always hid the growth.
Because if the Abyss learned a Servant could steal power, they would erase him permanently.
The rearguard dwindled.
Nineteen shadows remained.
Kargan was drenched in blood, laughing like a god drunk on slaughter.
Then the final wave arrived.
Heavier.
Sharper.
At its head rode a Seraph Captain.
Rank: S.
Six wings unfurled. A halo burned above its helm like a dying star.
Kargan's laughter died.
The Captain leveled a lance of pure light.
Kargan's voice cracked. Just once.
"Servant—block it!"
Orion stepped forward.
This time—
The Protocol did not move him.
He chose.
His body destabilized, half-smoke, half-flesh, and he planted himself directly in the lance's path.
FWOOOOOM—!
White.
Then black.
Then the familiar cold.
Orion opened his eyes in the place between deaths.
A void.
Floating violet runes drifted like embers in deep water.
The System spoke—cold, genderless, and only for him.
⊳ Shadow Designated "Kargan" has perished.
⊳ Commencing Memory Inheritance Sequence…
⊳ 1% transfer authorized.
⊳ Skills Acquired:
«Blood Rage»
«Iron Skin»
«Reckless Charge»
⊳ Unique Memory Fragment Obtained:
"The first time I held my daughter."
The memory struck like a blade.
A tiny shadow-girl, barely reaching Kargan's knee, tugging at his cloak.
"Daddy… will you come home this time?"
The monster knelt, tusks hidden behind a clumsy smile.
"I always come home, little flame."
He had lied.
Tears Orion should not have been able to shed slid down his cheeks—
and evaporated before they fell.
The battlefield slammed back into existence.
Orion rose.
Kargan's corpse lay at his feet, greataxe beside a severed arm.
The Seraph Captain was already turning away. One more dead barbarian meant nothing.
Orion picked up the axe.
It was heavier than sin.
A small notification bloomed—visible only to him.
⊳ Master Count: 114 → 113
⊳ Current Rank: E → E+
⊳ Hidden Achievement Unlocked: «One Who Carries Regret»
He looked at the retreating Seraph host.
Then at the axe in his hands.
Then at the sky that had never shown mercy.
Orion whispered the words he had spoken one hundred and thirteen times before—
But this time, his voice broke.
"Thank you… for your memories."
Next time, he would not block.
Next time, he would be the one who charged.
He tightened his grip on the axe and began walking toward the war that would never end.
Behind him, Kargan's corpse dissolved into black mist, already preparing to be reborn somewhere else—
With no memory of his daughter.
Orion did not look back.
There was no one left to apologize to.