Julius squinted at the rising sun through the narrow window of the guard barracks. Another day at the eastern gate awaited, and for a moment, the thought of routine—the predictable march of carts, merchants, and travelers—brought him a small, comforting relief.
Except… something felt different.
He rubbed his temple, trying to shake the unease. The memory of yesterday—or was it several yesterdays?—lingered like a shadow at the edge of his mind.
The adventurers. The sword. The laughter. The five copper coins.
No, that part wasn't familiar. Not like the usual merchant complaints or farmers grumbling about taxes. That… that felt like a memory that shouldn't exist.
Bram appeared behind him, slamming his boots on the wooden floor.
"Still staring, Julius? Or are you trying to meditate through your first morning?"
"Morning," Julius muttered, forcing a smile. "Everything's fine."
Bram raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "You sure? You look like someone just tried to sell you a cursed sword."
Julius ignored the comment. He couldn't explain it, but he felt… watched. Not by the city, or the merchants, or even the travelers. Something else. Something expectant.
He shoved the thought aside and grabbed his spear. Routine, he reminded himself. Focus on the gate. Focus on the road.
The first caravan of the morning appeared, wagons creaking and horses stamping their hooves. Julius greeted them with the same neutral nod he always did.
"State your business," he said automatically, even though the words felt like a reflex rather than a choice.
The merchant—a stout man with a sun-creased face—spoke the usual complaints about taxes and city fees. Julius barely listened, his eyes scanning the horizon.
And then he saw them.
Five adventurers, their armor still gleaming like it had just been polished in some faraway city. They moved differently this time, more calculated, more aware. One of them, a boy with a crooked sword, whispered something to the others and pointed directly at Julius.
A chill ran down his spine.
Something in his chest tightened—not fear, not exactly—but a deep, uncanny recognition. It all felt too familiar. He knew this.
And then it hit him.
The memory:
The sword cutting across his chest.
Falling into the dirt.
The laughter.
Five copper coins.
Not once, but… multiple times.
Julius staggered slightly. He gripped the spear tighter, as if holding it could anchor him to reality.
"Bram…" he whispered, voice low. "Have you… ever felt like… something's… repeating?"
Bram laughed. "Like deja vu? Come on, kid. You've been staring at the same road for three years. Of course it feels like it repeats."
"No," Julius said, shaking his head. "I mean… not like that. I mean… events. People. Everything. Like… I've been here… before. Exactly like this."
Bram paused, one boot half-raised, the other foot planted firmly on the floor. He squinted at Julius, frowning.
"You're talking nonsense. Just eat your breakfast, drink some water, and don't overthink things. Trust me, thinking too much out here will get you killed."
Julius nodded, but the uneasy feeling only grew. His eyes drifted back to the adventurers, now standing a few yards away, casually watching him.
Something about their stance, their expressions, the way they whispered to each other—it wasn't normal.
Julius's mind raced. He remembered the repeated pain, the laughter, the coin drop… every time.
And for the first time, a single thought echoed clearly:
I'm not like the others.
Something inside him had changed. Something fundamental. And he didn't know if it was a blessing… or a curse.
The adventurers stepped closer. The boy with the crooked sword smirked.
"A level 5 fodder" he sneered.
Julius tightened his grip on the spear.
"Level 5..." he muttered under his breath
And deep down, something stirred in the back of his mind—something ancient, sharp, and impatient.