I said it was going to bleed.

  But first—I have to get stronger.

  My senses need to sharpen, my sphere more potent. My strikes? Faster. Deadlier. And I’ll need to prepare the battlefield.

  Step one is easy: clear the ground.

  Lay traps. Not because I expect to catch the damn thing—it’s too fast for that—but even a heartbeat of hesitation could give me just enough room. Enough to counter. Or survive.

  The prep takes four hours. Could’ve been faster, but I took my time. No sense rushing. If this isn’t the last loop—and it probably isn’t—I’ll shave that time down.

  Then comes the real work.

  Training the sphere’s good and all, but my usual sparring partners barely pose a challenge now. I can dodge them in my sleep—well, not literally. That’s still how I die.

  No, the Void Panther’s the only thing that can actually push me.

  So I turn to something else: refining my attacks. Sharpening them. I want each strike to land like lightning—fast, blinding, final.

  Which gets me thinking.

  Why not use lightning itself?

  Or wind—something fast. Something raw.

  Would it rip me apart? Probably. But it’s not like I’ve got a shortage of lives.

  Still, if I had the choice, I wouldn’t want to die. But that choice isn’t mine. Not while that Voidling keeps hunting me the moment I drift off.

  Between the two, I’d probably have more success with wind—I’m familiar with it. But lightning just feels right. Like it fits. Like it’s mine.

  Maybe it’s the nature of my mana. Maybe what Rainer said was true—maybe I’m built different.

  So I decide to try.

  Train lightning.

  My basic understanding? Lightning forms when water or ice particles clash and build friction inside storm clouds, creating an electrical charge—the bottom becomes negatively charged and boom—lightning strikes.

  How the hell do I replicate that inside my body?

  Let alone weaponize it?

  ***

  Loop after loop.

  Minimal progress—but not none.

  I nearly give up halfway through and switch to wind. Honestly? Wind’s easier. Easier to channel. Easier to weave.

  But the second I try to maintain both the mana sphere and wind-boost at the same time, things fall apart. The mana clashes. Maybe they’re too similar. Too close in nature. The overlap throws everything off.

  Someday I’ll balance it. But not yet.

  So I pivot back to lightning.

  Push forward. Refine.

  And in the meantime, my mana sphere? It’s grown sharper, tighter—sensitive enough now to catch even the Voidling’s deadliest attacks. I can dodge on instinct alone.

  The traps help too. Not in landing hits, but in opening space—just enough to breathe, pivot, reposition.

  The cleared ground makes a difference. No more tripping over roots, no more losing fights to terrain. Now, when I die, it’s because I messed up. Because I miscalculated. Because I blinked.

  Still my fault.

  But better that than chaos.

  And the fights are lasting longer now.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  That alone gives me hope.

  That maybe—just maybe—I can overcome this.

  And even if I can’t…

  I’ll spite my way through anyway.

  ***

  I don’t know how long I’ve been stuck in this loop.

  Could be double my original age by now—and I wouldn’t know.

  You’d think dying this much would shatter a person. That something inside would snap, unravel, break beyond repair.

  That I’d lose whatever made me human.

  But the truth is stranger.

  With every loop, I find more will. More hunger. More joy.

  Each night, I get to fight something that outclasses me in every way. A perfect predator. A living shadow I can barely track, let alone kill.

  And yet—

  I improve.

  Even if it’s by a sliver. Even if all I gain is half a second more to breathe. I’m better than I was.

  And every loop, it becomes clearer: this beast will die.

  And I’ll be the one to kill it.

  This isn’t hell.

  This is paradise.

  Here, any challenge can be overcome. Every death a lesson. Every failure a step closer.

  So maybe I have gone insane. Maybe I lost my humanity five hundred loops ago.

  Maybe I was never human to begin with.

  ***

  Strangely, I didn’t wake up yesterday.

  I woke up here—Swart’s realm.

  He’s sitting in front of me, cross-legged, chin propped on one hand like a bored schoolkid forced to watch a documentary on paint drying.

  I just sit there, waiting.

  Honestly? I want to go back. Back to my fight. My nightly war. Anticipation claws at my insides—the kind that tastes like lightning in your veins.

  But finally, Swart flaps his lips like a horse and groans,

  “Brrrthh—you’re really taking your time on this one. But, hey—I forgot to tell you something earlier. So, uh… when you meet another person? Just trust the man.”

  He lifts his fingers to snap me away again—classic Swart exit—but this time, curiosity spikes before he can finish the motion.

  “A man? Someone survived? One of the crew? I’m not alone on the island—?”

  He cuts me off with a lazy wave.

  “Hey now, what’s the point of the game if I spoil it? Just get it over with the kitten, okay? Can’t believe you’re still struggling. I know it’s cute and all, but really?”

  “Cute? That monstrous thing?” I scowl. “And since when am I supposed to be powerful?”

  Swart rolls his eyes like I’ve asked why water is wet.

  “You’re not powerful—but you’re stronger than any human. Honestly, with your bloodline, I figured this’d be over by now. Guess not. They gave me a damn faulty heir.”

  “Wait—bloodline? Heir? You knew this body’s father?”

  “This body’s? That’s your body, dumbass. Oh, it’s worse than I thought.” He sighs, genuine disappointment in his voice.

  “Well—I’ve chatted too long.”

  Snap.

  ***

  Strange.

  Right before I felt like I was finally going to beat the “kitten”—he shows up.

  Nothing is a coincidence.

  I spend the entire day in meditation, tuning every part of myself to a single purpose: to slay this sleep-dwelling demon.

  I hone each breath, each thread of mana, every flicker of thought—refining instinct into weapon, anticipation into fire.

  Time crawls, thick like honey—but my excitement doesn’t waver. It boils in my veins, bleeding into tremors I can’t quite suppress.

  But with each pulse, my resolve sharpens.

  Victory feels close enough to taste—sweet, electric, inevitable.

  When night falls, I slip into my frond-pile bed, drifting off just enough to trigger the loop. Half-conscious sleep—a technique I’ve perfected over the countless nights I’ve died. A shallow state, just enough awareness to register the sphere’s warning.

  Ten meters. That’s how far my mana sphere reaches now. A full dome, reactive, whisper-sensitive. It doesn’t just detect—it understands.

  And I do too. My instincts, once foreign and jarring, now bend to my will like a limb I was born with.

  Inside me, the new power waits—lightning, coiled and hungry. Forged for this night.

  I lie still, playing dead.

  The trap is set.

  Waves crash on distant rocks. Insects chirr their nightly chorus, filling the void with soft, uneven static.

  Then—

  The world falls silent.

  Every sound dies in an instant.

  Even the wind holds its breath.

  The sphere twitches. Barely. But I feel it.

  And then—

  It strikes.

  A claw rips through the air, aimed for my skull.

  Missed.

  Because I moved.

  Another swipe slices from above. I roll beneath it.

  Left. Right. Below. Above. Claws lash in rapid succession, a flurry of death—but I’m already gone. Vaulting, flipping, slipping through impossible gaps.

  The panther lunges, maw open wide.

  I vault over it, twist midair, land behind.

  It turns—just in time for my fist to crackle with lightning.

  Crackle—

  Impact.

  My punch slams into its side, arcs of blue racing down its ribcage. It skids, paws digging furrows five meters wide.

  Not a kill. But damage.

  It knows I’m different now.

  It circles, silent again, gauging me with those abyssal eyes.

  Then—luck.

  One of its hind legs drops into a pit trap.

  I don’t hesitate.

  Mana floods my limbs. Lightning pours through every muscle, surging from soles to fingertips. My legs explode off the ground—I become a bolt in human shape.

  My hand sharpens into a blade—pure arc-charged edge.

  I zip through the air.

  It tries to dodge.

  Too late.

  My blade slices across its back—a clean cut, not lethal, but deep enough to matter.

  It roars—a soundless vibration more than a voice—and retaliates. A claw rakes across my forearm. Not deep, but it stings.

  I grit my teeth. Blood drips—but I’m faster.

  I move again, charging for a second strike.

  This time, it vanishes—gone in a blur of shadow.

  I close my eyes again, letting the world shrink to the bounds of the sphere.

  The waves keep crashing. The insects keep chirring.

  Like this isn’t a duel to the death.

  I breathe. Focus. Wait.

  The sphere trembles—louder this time. Its once-perfect stealth is fraying.

  Then—

  Strike.

  From behind.

  But I’m ready.

  I raise my arm, wrapped in protective mana—charged now, laced with electricity. His claw crashes into it, the impact jolting down to my spine. My heels dig trenches in the dirt as I’m pushed back, but he gets a taste of my trap—lightning snaps up his paw. Not enough to wound. Enough to stun.

  I grab him. Drag him closer.

  My face inches from his.

  I sharpen my other hand—every arc of lightning wrapping it into a spear of living energy.

  And I strike.

  Time slows.

  My heart pounds like a war drum. I’m about to end this.

  Finally.

  My lightning-blade punches forward, aiming dead-center at his chest.

  It connects—

  Shockwaves burst out, rippling with arcs so violent they blur my vision. Blinding, deafening—like a god cracking thunder into the earth.

  But when the light fades—

  He’s still standing.

  Not impaled.

  Not fried.

  Just… dazed. Alive.

  Something stopped me.

  I blink the light from my eyes, trying to make sense of it—

  And then I see it.

  An arm.

  A man’s arm, gripping mine.

  He stopped me.

  Rage erupts—burning, scorching—like hellfire poured straight into my veins. It doesn’t just ignite; it consumes, roaring through my body with blistering fury, blinding thought, searing reason.

  This isn’t interference.

  This is theft.

  Who dares steal my victory?!

  The fury that follows is volcanic. Uncontainable. Like someone had ripped a child from a parent—or buried my years of suffering beneath a stranger’s boot.

  I fought. Loop after loop. Died over and over to reach this moment.

  And it was mine.

  Mine.

  And some hooded bastard just took it.

  My mind snaps. Reason gone. I tear free of his grip and lash out—

  But I never see the counter.

  A blur.

  Then I’m airborne.

  I slam into the ground hard enough to crack the earth—something in my ribs gives. Pain floods every limb—raw, immediate—stripping the rage from me in a single breath.

  I can’t move.

  I can barely think.

  The world dims.

  Before the blackout takes me, I glimpse him—

  A hooded figure, standing over me.

  Cloak flaring in the wind.

  A stylized sun crest glints on his chest—the same one carved into the ruins.

  And his eyes—

  Gold.

  That’s all I see before the dark swallows everything.