Kairos hit the cobblestones for the third time, the alley's filth greeting him like an old enemy. Naked again, heart slamming against ribs that felt too fragile for this nightmare loop. *Demon comes after the guild fight. Shack's a death trap.* The shouts from the street were already starting—Mira's footsteps pattering closer. No time to waste.
He scanned the alley like a man possessed, spotting the loose grate over a sewer mouth half-buried in muck. *Hide first. Ambush.* Kairos pried it up with raw fingers, nails splitting, and slid into the stench-choked tunnel just as Mira rounded the corner, bread clutched tight.
From the darkness, he watched the thugs chase her down—same script, scarred leader barking orders. They grabbed her hair, sword rising. Kairos exploded out like a rat from hell, tackling the leader into the wall before the blade could fall. Brick met face with a wet *smash*. Mira yelped, knife flashing to gut the second thug.
"Move!" Kairos snarled, grabbing her wrist. No time for heroics. They bolted, but he veered sharp—*not toward the square*. "Sewer! Trust me!"
Her eyes bugged. "You're mad—"
"Demon in the shack. Run!"
She didn't argue. They plunged into the grate, splashing through knee-deep sludge that burned Kairos' skin. Behind, hooves thundered—Lirien's riders again—but the tunnel muffled the horns. Mira gagged, paddling after him. "How'd you *know* about a demon?"
"Lucky guess." *Third time's the charm.* They crawled until the flow spat them into a wider chamber, bioluminescent fungi casting eerie green glows on dripping walls. Rats the size of cats scattered.
Mira slumped against a ledge, wringing out her rags. "Bread's ruined. You owe me double, summoned boy." But gratitude flickered in her hazel eyes. "Name's Mira. Thief, survivor. You?"
"Kairos Vale. Gamer, dead man." He forced a grin, probing his thigh—no wound this loop. *Echo?* A faint tingle hummed in his veins, like static before a storm.
She laughed, sharp and real. "Dead man fights good. What's your deal? Magic? Prophecy kid?"
Before he could dodge, a ripple stirred the water. Low growl echoed. Mira froze. "Sewer stalker..."
From the murk rose the demon—same horned horror from the loop before, but smaller here, slime-sheathed, red eyes like coals. Grin split its maw, fangs dripping acid. *Weakened underground. Good.*
It lunged at Mira first. Kairos shoved her aside, grabbing a rusted pipe jutting from the wall. *Swing for the horns.* He cracked it across the beast's snout—solid hit, ichor spraying. The thing screeched, claws raking air.
Mira joined, knife plunging into its flank. "Bleed it!"
They danced death in the sludge—Kairos bashing skull, her slicing tendons. But the demon adapted, tail whipping to coil Kairos' leg. Acid burned through flesh to bone. He screamed, vision blurring as it yanked him close. Fangs hovered at his throat.
*Not enough.* "Mira—eyes!"
She jammed her blade into its socket. Howl shook the tunnel. Kairos twisted free, pipe spearing the maw. Gush of black blood. The beast thrashed once, then stilled.
Panting, they collapsed. Mira bandaged his leg with her scarf—hasty, tender. "You're not normal. Felt that tingle when you hit. Like... echoes."
Kairos met her gaze. *She's sharp. Test deeper.* "Ever die in a dream? Wake up knowing it was real?"
She shivered. "Too many times. Slums eat kids." A pause. "Stick with me. We'll hit the black market—sell demon parts. Real coin."
They surfaced in a quieter warren, dawn painting the slums gold. Mira led to a hidden stall, haggling like a shark for silver from the demon's horn. Kairos pocketed a fang—*souvenir?*—feeling that tingle again, stronger. Veins under his skin faintly glowed blue, then faded.
Word spread fast. By noon, they holed up in a cleaner shack—Mira's backup spot—with stew bubbling. She chattered about Lugnica's rot: five royal candidates vying for the Dragon Throne, half-elf Lirien hated for her ears, demon cults rising. "You got power, Kairos. Use it right, we eat like kings."
He nodded, but unease gnawed. *Save her. Build from here.* As night fell, he stepped out for air. Alley shadows deepened unnaturally. Footsteps—not Mira's.
A cloaked figure emerged: tall, hooded, insignia of a three-eyed skull. "Echo-bearer. The Witch's Cult welcomes you."
Kairos tensed. *Cult? Already?* The man drew a curved blade, whispering, "Die, and begin."
No warning. Steel sliced his throat clean. World spun red. Mira's distant scream.
Darkness. Reset.
Same alley. Naked. Rage boiling. *Fourth. Cult knows. They're the real threat.*
⚔️ To be continued!