The demon who looked at him did not blink.
Steel descended.
Eiden moved—
Too late.
The blade carved across his collarbone instead of his throat.
Pain flared white-hot, exploding through his shoulder and down his arm.
He stumbled backward into another soldier, lost his footing, and fell hard into the mud.
The sky spun.
Boots thundered past him.
A shield slammed down inches from his face, catching a strike meant for his skull.
"Up!" someone shouted.
He rolled as another blade struck where his head had been.
Mud splashed into his mouth.
That wasn't memory.
That was luck.
He scrambled upright, gripping his spear incorrectly, fingers slick with his own blood this time.
The demon stepped forward again.
Same one.
Dark Armor trimmed in deep red.
No roar. No wasted motion.
Only calculation.
The battlefield noise dulled around them.
Not silence—just focus narrowing until the world contained only the two of them.
This one wasn't just fighting.
He was watching.
The demon feinted left.
Eiden reacted right.
Correct.
Then the real strike came from canter.
Too fast.
Steel punched through his ribs.
Clean.
Precise.
Air fled his lungs in a wet gasp.
The world narrowed to the heavy drum of his heartbeat.
Not again, he thought.
Not—
Darkness snapped shut.
Stone pressed against his palms.
"…successful resonance!"
Eiden inhaled violently, the air burning down his throat.
Same chamber.
Same incense.
Same argument about signatures echoing beneath the vaulted ceiling.
He didn't check his wound this time.
He knew it was gone.
His head felt heavier.
Not just tired.
Compressed.
As if something inside his skull had been stretched too far and forced back into place.
The ceremony unfolded around him.
Five glowing heroes.
No glow on him.
The priest approached.
"…No response."
The murmur rippled.
Almost identical.
But this time the priest's sleeve brushed the sigil earlier.
A small shift.
Eiden swallowed.
It's not replaying.
It's adjusting.
They were herded into the hall.
Flame.
Lightning.
Blessing.
Sword aura.
"Another failure," the king sighed.
The words sounded thinner now.
Or maybe his hearing was dulling.
As soldiers escorted him out, the world seemed to sharpen half a breath late every time he blinked.
That half breath terrified him.
Each death is taking something.
They handed him the spear again.
The same chipped metal.
The same indifferent nod.
He tightened his grip.
This time, he wouldn't just survive longer.
He would test it.
The march.
The ridge.
The battlefield spreading below.
He didn't look at the demon lines first.
He watched the human officers.
Watched their signals.
Watched timing.
The shove came.
He stepped aside.
The first spear struck someone else.
The clash erupted.
He moved toward the canter.
The horn sounded.
Retreat.
He moved immediately.
The wounded soldier called out.
This time he didn't hesitate.
He dragged him straight to the medic.
The man still died.
But sooner.
Cleaner.
Eiden stared at the still body.
So, survival isn't enough.
The second clash began.
The flank shifted differently again.
Subtle.
But wrong.
The demons weren't repeating themselves.
They were adjusting micro-tactics in response to the humans' formation.
He searched for the red-trimmed Armor.
There.
Left of canter this time.
Not cutting inward.
Watching.
The clash hit.
He ducked early.
Stepped back sooner.
Avoided the first blade.
Then he retreated two steps before he needed to.
The demon's follow-up strike cut empty air.
A pause.
Small.
But real.
The demon's eyes narrowed.
You remember, Eiden thought.
No.
That's impossible.
The third horn sounded.
Advance.
His head pounded harder now.
Thoughts dragged slightly behind motion.
Sound arrived late.
Movement followed thought instead of preceding it.
If I die again—
Will I even be able to react?
The third clash came heavier.
More aggressive.
The demon line pushed deeper.
A human captain fell—something that hadn't happened in the previous loop.
The formation destabilized.
Rynn appeared to his right, shouting orders.
She hadn't been this close before.
A demon lunged toward her blind side.
Eiden stepped in without thinking.
His spear thrust was clumsy but timely.
The demon recoiled.
Rynn glanced at him, surprise flickering across her face.
Then she turned back to the line.
The red-trimmed demon shifted.
Not toward the weakest point.
Toward him.
The realization was cold and immediate.
This isn't random.
He backed away pre-emptively.
The demon advanced deliberately, testing range.
First strike low.
He anticipated it.
Second high.
He blocked poorly—but enough.
The third—
He didn't remember.
Steel drove into his abdomen.
Different angle.
Different speed.
Adapted.
He dropped to one knee.
Warmth pooled beneath him.
The demon stepped closer.
Close enough to see his face clearly.
Not monstrous.
Not snarling.
Focused.
Curious.
The demon tilted his head slightly.
Recognition.
Not of a man.
Of a pattern.
You're the anomaly.
The thought hit harder than the blade.
Darkness swallowed him.
Stone.
Incense.
"…successful resonance!"
He woke choking.
His head felt like it was splitting open. The chamber lights seemed too bright.
The voices too loud.
His thoughts lagged visibly now.
Like watching himself think from half a second behind.
He gripped the stone floor.
Too many.
Too fast.
The priest's voice reached him delayed.
"…No response."
He forced himself upright.
Breathe.
Count.
Focus.
The demon isn't remembering me.
But the battlefield is changing.
Each deviation branches into something new.
Each reset adds instability.
And with each death—
He grows slower.
Not stronger.
Slower.
They led him to the hall again.
"Another failure," the king sighed.
Eiden barely registered it.
When they handed him the spear, his fingers almost fumbled it.
That hadn't happened before.
He stared at his trembling hand.
Delayed grip.
If I die too many times in one day…
Will I become unusable?
The march began again.
Mud.
Smoke.
Demons.
The red-trimmed soldier stood in the line.
Still.
Patient.
Eiden swallowed.
This was no longer about surviving longer.
It was about choosing when not to die.
Because each death was no longer free.
And somewhere across the battlefield—
A disciplined soldier had begun studying the anomaly.
The horn sounded.
Advance.
Eiden stepped forward.
And for the first time since arriving in this world—
He considered refusing to test fate again.