Kindred Outcomes

Chapter 12                                           

  No —No Gain「2」           

   <Starting Point of Error>(2)         

                ✧Kindred Outcomes✧

Twelve million. That’s the number I arrived at after what felt like an eternity of counting, cataloging, and attempting to make sense of it all. Twelve million possible outcomes, scenarios, paths—an unfathomable number that continued to grow as I tried to grasp the sheer complexity of the reality around me.

I don’t even know how long I’ve been here. The space, this 「Anti Void」, doesn’t care for the concept of time. It’s just a static pulse, a lingering hum that stretches on and on, with no beginning and no end. The paths I’ve walked, the choices I’ve made—everything feels like an endless repetition, a cycle I can’t break. But somewhere within that cycle, I started to count.

Infinite Possibilities.

One for every path I’ve crossed, every decision I’ve pondered, every version of me that could have been. It started as a simple observation, an idle curiosity. How many paths could exist within this distorted world? But as I wandered through the labyrinthine corridors of this fractured reality, the number became an obsession.

And so, for what must have been days, or maybe weeks, I kept track—taking notes, documenting every scenario I encountered, as if I could somehow understand the true nature of all this madness. Every path was a new choice, a new direction. The choices piled up, and so did the possibilities.

But no matter how much I counted, no matter how deeply I delved into the layers of possibility, the answer never seemed to settle. The possibilities… they didn’t just stop at twelve million. They kept stretching further, deeper, more intricate than I could keep up with.

I observed, cataloged, and learned. In this place, there exist more than five hundred thousand different kinds of jobs, across magical, medical, scientific, and other worlds I could scarcely comprehend. Some were simple—healers, craftsmen, scholars—others were absurdly complex, like conjurers of forgotten realms, alchemists who could shape the very fabric of existence. And there were countless others in between, each one offering its own path, its own narrative to follow.

But jobs weren’t the only thing that boggled my mind.

I started seeing something else—an intricate tapestry of choices, stretching out like threads in every direction. Seven million. No, maybe more. Each choice was a potential split in the road, a branching reality where the consequences of one decision rippled outward, affecting everything that followed. Each decision felt monumental, even though I knew in my heart that none of them mattered.

What was a choice when you had a billion possibilities? What was the significance of choosing when every possibility was already locked in place somewhere, waiting to unfold?

And then came the magic. Ten million types of magic. Ten million. The sheer scale of it was unfathomable. Some forms were elemental—fire, water, wind—others were more esoteric, bending space, time, or even thoughts. I came across mages who could conjure illusions so real they made me doubt my own perception. Wizards who could summon storms that turned the very air into a blade. But even that was only the beginning. The kinds of magic I witnessed were so vast, so intricate, they almost seemed to defy logic. One path, I found, was even dedicated to studying “the magic of possibility” itself—a form of magic that sought to manipulate the very fabric of potential outcomes.

The more I learned, the more I realized that magic wasn’t just power—it was a tool for shaping reality, for bending the rules, for rewriting the very nature of the world. And within this infinite web of possibility, magic was both a gift and a curse. How could you wield such power without losing yourself in the process?

But it didn’t stop there. There were powers too. Supernatural abilities beyond the mundane. A billion different ways to defy the laws of nature. Some abilities were small and subtle—reading minds, communicating with animals, controlling the weather—but others were far more terrifying. There were abilities that could tear apart the very fabric of space-time, powers that could shatter entire universes with a single thought. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. Every time I thought I understood the nature of this place, it would show me something new, something I couldn’t possibly have imagined.

Weapons—ten million of them. Some were physical, swords that could cut through steel, arrows that never missed their mark, knives that would return to their owner’s hand after every throw. Others were more conceptual, weapons that didn’t even have a form. Mental constructs that could destroy you with a single thought, or illusions that would make you fight against your own mind.

And then there were the worlds themselves—the infinite variety of realities, ranging from medieval kingdoms where dragons roamed, to post-apocalyptic wastelands, to futuristic metropolises with technology so advanced it bordered on the divine. Every world was a possibility, a space of infinite growth, filled with infinite choices. The line between past, present, and future blurred in this place. In some worlds, the laws of physics held, in others, they twisted like taffy. Some universes thrived on order, while others collapsed into chaotic entropy. Each one was a puzzle, a paradox waiting to be unraveled.

The 「Anti Void」 was more than just a crossroads of possibilities. It was a nexus, a point where all realities converged. All these worlds, all these choices, all these paths—they were all interconnected in ways I couldn’t fully grasp. The more I tried to understand it, the more I realized just how futile it was to attempt to comprehend the vastness of it all.

The possibilities didn’t just exist in a vacuum—they depended on choices, on actions taken by the countless versions of me that wandered through this place. Every choice I made altered the course of these infinite paths, creating new futures, new possibilities. But no matter how many paths I walked down, I was always left with the same feeling—the overwhelming sense that none of this mattered. The possibilities were infinite, yes, but they were also meaningless. They existed only because they were chosen.

And yet… there was something strange about all of it. Something familiar. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had been here before. That I had walked these paths, made these choices, countless times, only to end up right back where I started. In a place where time didn’t flow and nothing truly mattered.

I was lost in my thoughts, drifting through the infinite maze of possibilities, when something suddenly pulled me out of the quiet spiral. The air—if it could be called air—felt thick with the weight of something new, something I couldn’t quite grasp.

I blinked, and before I could fully process what was happening, the space around me warped, distorting in ways that were far too familiar, yet entirely unsettling.

Then, like a glitch in a broken system, a blue window appeared in front of me. It flickered, sputtering like a dying signal, before the words took form.

[Tutorial Completed!]

[True Genocide!]

[Assistant Unlocked!]

[Ceil Unlocked!]

[Ceil will be helping you now!]

[Lost Memories Unlocked!]

A chill ran down my spine, though I wasn’t sure why. The words made little sense. My eyes darted over the screen, confusion clouding my thoughts. What the hell is this?

I stared at the blinking text, trying to make sense of it. Each line of it felt like a jigsaw puzzle I couldn’t put together.

What did that mean? Genocide. A word so heavy with meaning, yet it felt absurd in this context. What could be “true genocide” in a place like this? And why the hell was it showing up now?

Assistant? A tool? A guide? What kind of assistance would I even need in a place like this?

Ceil? That name felt distant, like a half-forgotten memory scratching at the back of my mind. But what did it mean? Who or what was Ceil?

What the hell does that mean?

My pulse quickened. Was I… forgetting things? Had I lost something important? Had I been trapped in this endless cycle so long that I had started to lose pieces of myself? The idea was terrifying. I couldn’t even remember when I had started losing things. I didn’t know what had been taken from me, or worse, if there was anything left to recover.

A sharp buzzing sound vibrated in the air, and the window flickered again, the words shifting into something even more unsettling.

[Main Quest: Unlock all Outcomes]

[Reward: Death]

That hit me like a ton of bricks(?).

Death. The word echoed in my mind, a reminder of everything I had been chasing, trying to escape from for so long. What was this? A sick joke? Unlock all outcomes? Reward: Death?

Was this the goal I had been walking toward all along? Was this… the end? The thought felt strangely comforting, like the final line in a book I had been reading for far too long. Death. The ultimate escape.

But it also felt wrong. Death wasn’t an escape, was it? It was supposed to be an end. A reward? How could death be a reward in a place where nothing made sense? Was this the universe I had been wandering through? Was this the 「Anti Void」 or was I simply trapped in a twisted version of my own mind?

I let out a bitter laugh. “How simplistic,” I muttered aloud, though I had no one to say it to. The glitchy blue window didn’t care about my frustration. It stayed stubbornly in place, flashing at me with a cold indifference.

I ran my hands through my hair, trying to make sense of everything. This wasn’t like before. This wasn’t just some twisted version of reality, or some glitch in the system. This felt deliberate. Everything about it felt like a game—a cruel game, and I was the unwitting pawn.

The fact that I could still think, still make choices in this moment, felt almost like a curse. It would be so much easier if I could just accept it all, let the void swallow me whole. But no. I had questions, too many questions. What was this world? What was my purpose here?

But as I stood there, contemplating the meaning of it all, something changed. A new presence, a sensation, something cold and knowing washed over me. It wasn’t like the normal distortions I’d seen before. This was… different.

I felt it before I saw it. Something in the air, shifting.

A voice whispered through the noise. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it.

[You’re ready.]

I froze. The voice wasn’t comforting. It wasn’t like someone offering a helping hand. It was… flat, mechanical. Like something with knowledge far beyond my own, but no compassion. No warmth. Only an empty, calculating certainty.

I stepped forward, almost instinctively. What else could I do?

The blue window remained, floating in front of me, seemingly waiting for something. Waiting for me to make a decision.

I hesitated. If this was my final choice, what was there to lose? Perhaps I had been chasing death for too long, and now that it was staring me in the face, it didn’t seem so terrifying anymore. Was I tired? Yes. Tired of running, tired of dying and coming back again, tired of the constant loops and the endless paths. Maybe this was it—the final end. The release.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the weight of everything settle on my shoulders. All the memories—whatever was left of them—rushed back in fragments. Faces, places, fleeting moments that made no sense but somehow felt like they mattered.

When I opened my eyes again, I made my decision. It was time to face whatever lay ahead. This time, I would embrace it, whatever it was.

[ 「If this is what it takes to end it all…」 ] I muttered to myself. [「Then I’m ready.」]

I stood at the edge of the path, the distortion rippling through the air like the flutter of a torn sheet in a windless room. The world around me bent, folding in on itself in strange and inexplicable ways. It was as if the very fabric of existence was being stretched and pulled by invisible hands, rearranging the space between me and the path. There was a hum, a quiet buzz in the air, like electricity. My steps were slow, unsure, as if I was testing the ground for something—maybe some kind of trap.

The path itself was unclear, veiled in an eerie shimmer, and as I stepped forward, I felt an unsettling sense of déjà vu. The glowing blue window appeared before me, its glitchy form flickering like a dying flame, flashing lines of code across my vision.

[Possibility 62816: A Ruined World]

[Difficulty:???]

[Rank: B]

[Reward: 「̷̡̢̢̡̢̛̯̭̠̟̱̙͎͓̙̗̗̺͎͔̟͉͓̯͉͓̾͛̇̓̐͌̿̂͛͆͒̌̓͛̆̑͐͂͊̓̊̒́͒̀̆̄̅͆͒̎̋͌̄̇̉̈̓̂̍̏̽̓͌̕͘͘͝「Ṗ̸̡̧̧̙̥̲͇̣̺̲̘̼͓̺̤̪̫̖͙̳̺̰̘͈̜̏̌͗̓͊̕̚ư̸̢̧̡̢̱̻̘̖͔̦̺̻̞͈͙̜̝̺͔̬̱̲̗̩͚̥̹̫̲͉̻̤͔̯̖̺͎̝͎̜͊̈́̌́̈̔̈̉́͗͌́͐̐́̿̊͛̿́͑̓̾̓̔̈́͐̆͊̈́̿́̚͝͝p̸̛̛͕̠̣̖̮̲̝͔͈͙̗̔̑́̅̄̄́̔͆̽̂̐̿́̄̽͑̍̉̒̇͗͒̑͒͗̃̈̓͒͐͋̈́̇͑̾̕̕͘͘p̵̧̨̧̛̙̯͍̰̼̬̖͚͕̝̺͚̣͍̤̦͇̲͓̬̭̯̤̣̲͎̞̮̬̩̠̭̪̖̼̾̊̎́͒̍̾̈͑̆̾́̏͗͆́̑̈́̏͗͒̿́́̓̑͂͗͗͌̃͊̈́̿̈̏͌̔̌̔̿́̔̕̚͜͠e̴̢̥͔̎ť̷̡̛͚̲̪͔͉̲̣̯͚̮͍̻̱̥̠͙̝̳̙̳̬̖̼̞̰̗̺͕̮̳̩̯̫͙̜͉̪̙̱̟́̇͛́̈́̃̽̒͋̐̽͊̓͒̿̏̓̃͊̀̆̏́̊̉͛̓͑͐͑̕͘͘̚͜͜͠͝ȩ̷̛̤̠͍͈̳̜̲̣̱̪̘̞͖̦̖̯̩̻̥͎̒̿́̆̔̈̇̏̕͝e̶̛̛̛̛͓̝̪̲̖̪̭͖̩̪̠̝͈̻̘̤̲̱̮͎̪̘̝̼̞̪̰͉̥̲̝̜̥͎͂̈́͛̐͂̆͐̎̋̍͒̒̏̓́͐̽̅̅̽̀͛͑̋͂̈́͌͛̿̑͗͘̚̕͘̕͠ͅr̵̨̧̧̨̼͙̣͓̫͙̤̟̝̻͇̟͕̰͉͖̭͈̣̲̦̪̭͍̖̾̑̈͗͆͒͛̍̋́́͜͝」」̸̧̧̛̘̲̟̟͖̯͖͙̟̘̽̏̂̅̈́̐̃͋̍́̈̌̍̏͋͐͌̿̋͌̿̿̋͗̑̾͌̓͊͗̅̀͗̆̎̈́̔̍̓̓͗̃͆̚̚͘͜͝͝͝ͅ]

I stared at the window, my brow furrowing as I processed the words. A ruined world? A world, destroyed? That… that didn’t sound appealing. In fact, it sounded like a nightmare, something I had been running from for what felt like an eternity. Yet, the allure of the unknown tugged at me. A puppeteer? What could that possibly mean? Was it a power? A curse? A weapon? I had no way of knowing, and frankly, I didn’t care anymore.

I stepped forward, drawn by the strange power of the words and the unsettling calmness they inspired. There was no turning back now, not when the path seemed to be calling me forward, beckoning me with promises of something—something I couldn’t quite grasp but desperately needed.

The world around me folded even further, the distortion worsening with each step I took. It felt like I was wading through thick, heavy air, every step seeming to stretch time and space. I could feel the weight of every choice, every moment, hanging in the air. *But that’s just it, isn’t it?* A feeling of inevitability settled over me. The path was already decided; I was already on it.

The distortion stretched, warping the ground beneath me into something unrecognizable. The familiar feeling of *not quite real* gnawed at my mind, the edges of the world flickering like a broken television screen. The closer I got to the center of the path, the more fragmented the world became.

And then—just like that—it happened.

I was back.

The guillotine stood before me again, gleaming in the strange light, the crowd’s whispers rising in a cacophony of distorted voices. The knight’s presence was unmistakable, standing there in his dark, imposing armor, his spear glowing with an unnatural flame. It was as though nothing had changed at all. The world, the crowd, the looming blade—they were all the same as they had been. But it wasn’t. I ‘knew’ it wasn’t.

I glanced at the blue window again, now shimmering beside me in the air, mocking me. The words appeared again—those same damned words, the same offer.

[Possibility 62816: A Ruined World]

[Difficulty:???]

[Rank: B]

[Reward: 「Puppeteer」]

I had no time to comprehend it. The knight grabbed me, dragging me forward. The crowd’s chants filled my ears, louder now, almost deafening. This… this wasn’t happening. It wasn’t real. Not again. Not now.

I was back, back at the guillotine. Back to the moment of my execution.

The knight’s grip on my arm tightened, his face hidden behind the cold, unfeeling helmet. His movements were robotic, unfeeling—he wasn’t even human anymore. He was a thing, a manifestation of my own twisted fate. And it wasn’t just the knight that felt wrong. The air was thicker this time. The ground beneath me felt heavier. Even my thoughts felt sluggish, as though time itself was pushing against me.

This wasn’t real… My mind screamed. I already died. I already died.

But even as I thought it, a sinking sensation filled me, a gnawing certainty that my words were pointless. I wasn’t escaping this. Not this time. The guillotine was coming for me again, and I had no power to stop it.

I stared up at the blade, the cold steel gleaming with an almost predatory gleam. I could see the reflection of my own face in it—eyes wide, mouth slack, full of fear. Was this really happening?

“Any last words?” The voice that spoke was distorted, as if it was being filtered through something that shouldn’t be.

I opened my mouth, ready to spit something sarcastic out, but it was the words I hadn’t expected that came instead. “Reset.”

The moment I spoke, the world around me fractured. Time snapped back, folding in on itself, twisting and distorting again as if reality itself couldn’t bear the weight of my words. I blinked—and suddenly, I wasn’t at the guillotine anymore.

I was back—‘again’. The world around me was the same, but different. The distortion had faded, the static now only a faint buzz in the background, and the guillotine was no longer looming over me. I was standing in front of a new window, this one with a completely new message:

[Checkpoint: Reset Successful]
[Last Save: The Execution Platform]

It was almost laughable.

How? How is this possible? I felt the surge of panic that I had long buried claw its way to the surface, but it was replaced almost immediately by a twisted sense of acceptance. I can’t die. Not like this. Not in this place.

The strange sense of calm settled over me again as I realized—this is what I wanted. I had wanted to escape the endless loops. And now, I had been given a way out. I could reset, I could save, and I could die over and over again—if I wanted to.

But what did I want? What did ‘any’ of this mean?

The world twisted again, the edges of reality flickering like a dying light. I didn’t have time to process it, didn’t have time to question it. The moment I muttered the word reset, everything started to collapse. The guillotine was coming again, but this time, I wasn’t going to fight it. I wasn’t going to run. I didn’t have to.

The blade descended.

And I died.

But this time, I could feel it—the cold, the finality, the understanding that no matter what, no matter how many times I reset, I would always end up here. I would always be trapped in this cycle, unable to break free.

And maybe—just maybe—I never wanted to escape at all.

“Reset”, A small mutter escapes my mouth.

I woke up again. Same place. Same cold stone beneath me. The air smelled of stale death, thick with the heavy scent of fear. The guillotine loomed over me, its cold steel blade gleaming like an eternal promise of finality. The crowd, faceless and unforgiving, chanted in unison, their voices echoing in the oppressive silence of the space. The knight stood there, as motionless and lifeless as ever, his spear flickering with an eerie, unnatural flame.

I wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t *anything* anymore. At least, not in the way I once understood it. It had become routine, like an endless loop I couldn't break free from.

The knight grabbed me again, his cold fingers closing around my wrist with unrelenting strength. The crowd’s voices grew louder, building in volume, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. They were waiting for the execution. For my death. Again.

"Any last words?" he asked, his voice cold, detached, just like everything else here.

This time, I just shrugged, a hollow smile playing at my lips. “Yeah, sure. Same as always. Do your worst.”

The knight didn’t respond. He never did. With a practiced motion, he dragged me toward the guillotine, the ground feeling like it was stretching under my feet. I stared ahead, not caring. Not caring about the blade. Not caring about the crowd. It was all just noise, a constant, irrelevant hum in the background of a world that didn’t exist.

And then, it happened. The blade dropped. The world went black.

Reset.

I blinked, the light of the strange void greeting me again, as if I had been asleep for a fraction of a second. The knight was gone, the guillotine was gone. The whole execution was just a memory now, like a shattered reflection in a cracked mirror.

I rubbed my face, trying to focus, trying to get my bearings. But it didn’t matter. I had been here before. I had *always* been here. The world was static, broken, and unchanging, a loop that stretched beyond my comprehension.

I stood up slowly, as the familiar text flashed before me.

[Main Quest: Unlock All Outcomes]

[Reward: Death]

I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. "Yeah, no kidding," I muttered to myself, knowing full well that no matter what I said or did, the end result was the same. Death.

Reset.

The next reset came and went in much the same manner.

This time, when the knight seized me, I looked up at him, that familiar coldness in his eyes.

“Any last words?” His tone was a monotone, as if he were reading from a script.

I rolled my eyes. “Same as last time. Go ahead, make it quick.”

I stood there, feeling the weight of the crowd’s stares, their judgments. They didn’t matter, I knew that. But it didn’t stop me from feeling that ache in my chest. A twinge of something that wasn’t quite fear but wasn’t quite apathy either. It was strange, but the sensation was becoming familiar.

“Same as always, huh?” I muttered, still feeling the sarcasm pour out of my mouth, the words coming easily, almost like muscle memory.

And once again, the blade fell. My world went dark.

Reset.

By the hundredth reset, the irony was starting to feel less like a joke and more like a cruel punishment. It was as though the universe—or whatever this place was—was forcing me into a script I had no part in writing. I didn’t even need to open my eyes anymore to know what was happening.

The knight’s cold grip. The audience’s chants. The blade falling. My death.

“Do you ever get bored of this?” I asked one time, as I lay there waiting, pretending the fear didn’t grip me. “I mean, really, does it ever get old for you?”

There was no response. There never was. The knight wasn’t real. The crowd wasn’t real. Nothing was real. The loop just continued.

Reset.

The thousandth reset came like an old friend, its predictability almost comforting. The knight grabbed me again, his hand a vise around my wrist. The crowd’s chants began to rise, their voices swelling in unison.

“Any last words?” His voice was a cold echo in the distance, detached, empty.

I was growing tired of this. The sarcasm felt like a broken record, spinning on repeat, grinding my thoughts into dust. I let out a deep breath, staring up at the knight with a mixture of annoyance and apathy. “Yeah, I’ve got something. You can take your sword and shove it up—”

But before I could finish, I kicked the knight hard in the chest, a surge of defiance coursing through me for the first time in… forever. He stumbled back, surprised, but it didn’t matter. His grip had loosened for the briefest of moments, just enough for me to break free.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I had control.

I rushed toward the guillotine, my heart pounding. The crowd’s chants grew louder, their anger now tinged with confusion. But I didn’t care. The blade wasn’t my enemy. No, it was the knight. The knight, the one who always controlled everything, the one who was as much a prisoner in this cycle as I was.

I threw myself at him, desperation fueling my actions. I tried to break free, to escape—anything—but before I could get too far, he grabbed me again, dragging me to the execution block.

“No,” I whispered to myself, my voice cracking. “Not again.”

He pushed me down, locking me into place. The weight of it all, the hopelessness, came crashing down on me. I could feel it—the crushing inevitability, the pointlessness of this cycle.

The blade hovered above me once more, cold and unfeeling.

But this time, I didn’t feel the same fear. This time, I knew what had to be done.

“Reset.” I muttered, a final, defiant command.

The blade fell, but as the world went dark, something changed. Something inside me. It wasn’t just the reset. It was… something else. Something deeper.

And I waited for the reset to come. For the loop to begin again.

But this time, I didn’t feel like I had to play along anymore.

I wasn’t sure how many times it had been, but by the tenth thousandth reset, the repetition had lost all sense of time. It wasn’t about minutes or hours anymore; it was about the endless, suffocating cycle of dying and coming back again. The sensation of death had become numb, a constant that blurred with each reset.

I woke up again, just as I had countless times before. The same cold stone beneath me, the same sky above, and the same executioner standing before me. The knight, the one whose face I could never see, always there, always silent. His hand was gripping the flaming spear again, his presence looming like an unshakable force, a reminder that nothing in this place would change unless I forced it.

The crowd was there again too. The same faceless mob, their voices rising in a chant I couldn’t escape, couldn’t drown out. Their eyes boring into me, their hatred palpable, as if they were waiting for my final breath.

I wasn’t afraid anymore. Or maybe I was, but it didn’t matter. Fear had lost its meaning here, just like everything else.

The knight moved, grabbing me with the usual iron grip, dragging me toward the execution block. I tried to break free, but his strength was unyielding, his purpose unwavering. He wasn’t real. None of this was.

But that didn’t stop me from resisting.

“Do you ever get tired of this?” I sneered, trying to wrench free from his grasp. “Or is this just some sick game for you?”

He didn’t respond. He never did.

When I reached the guillotine, I could feel the weight of inevitability pressing down on me, but I refused to go quietly this time. No more.

I kicked the knight in the shin, my foot connecting with his armor. He didn’t flinch, but I wasn’t expecting him to. Still, the small act of defiance felt like a tiny victory. As he began to force me down onto the block, I twisted in his grip, trying to break free again.

But then, as if he’d been expecting it, the knight brought the spear down. The tip of it blazed with a fierce flame, and before I could even comprehend what was happening, it slashed across my side.

The pain was immediate, a searing, white-hot agony that tore through my body. I screamed, my breath catching in my throat. It felt real. It hurt. The sensation was new, unfamiliar, and it knocked the wind out of me.

I collapsed to the ground, the blood dripping from the wound as I clutched at my side. The knight stood over me, his cold gaze unwavering.

“You still haven’t learned,” he said, his voice as empty and lifeless as always.

But I had learned. I had learned so much in this endless cycle.

As the pain began to fade, my body shifting back into the void once more, I realized something.

I wasn’t just accepting death anymore. No, I was fighting back.

Reset.

I came back again, the same stone beneath me, the same cold air surrounding me. This time, the pain lingered longer in my memory, as if it had left an imprint on me. I could still feel the heat of the spear against my skin, the sting of the slash. But now, I knew what to do.

I would make him pay.

The cycle started again, and this time, I was ready.

When the knight grabbed me, his grip still as firm and cold as always, I didn’t resist with mere words. I fought back. I kicked. I twisted. I elbowed him in the gut. The crowd roared, their chants growing louder as I struggled, but I didn’t care. I had to get free. I had to.

The knight’s spear gleamed in the light, and I saw the flicker of flame as he swung it toward me. This time, I saw it coming. I dodged, ducking just in time, the heat of the flame brushing against my skin. I grabbed his wrist, twisting it with all the strength I could muster.

For a brief, glorious moment, I felt the knight falter. But he was quick. Too quick. The spear swiped toward me again, cutting a gash across my arm. I hissed in pain but didn’t relent. No more. No more running.

I forced his arm down, my hand gripping the shaft of the spear, and for the first time, the knight seemed to lose his composure. His expression remained unchanged, but the way he jerked back, the way his grip faltered for just a second— it was enough. I yanked the spear from his grasp, pulling it into my hands.

The world slowed as I held the weapon in my hands, the fiery tip still glowing with an intensity that matched my own fury. The knight stood before me, his hand now empty, his body rigid as if he were waiting for me to act.

Without thinking, I thrust the spear forward, aiming for the knight’s chest.

The metal tip pierced his armor with a satisfying screech. The knight staggered back, his grip tightening around the empty air, as if trying to hold onto something that was no longer there. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to feel victorious, but for the first time in a long time, I felt… something. Power? Control? Or maybe it was just the faintest glimpse of hope.

But before I could savor it, before I could process what had happened, the world around me began to distort. More knights appeared, appearing out of thin air, surrounding me.

I had no choice but to fight.

But before I could raise the spear again, one of the knights drew a sword and swung it toward me. I tried to block it, but my movements were sluggish, my body still reeling from the last battle. The blade connected, cutting across my shoulder, and I fell to the ground, my vision swimming with pain.

Before I could even catch my breath, the world twisted again. The pain in my shoulder faded as my body reset, but this time, something was different.

I was back in the guillotine chamber again.

Reset.

I didn’t give up. I kept fighting. I kept pushing through. Each reset felt like a death, each failure an opportunity to learn. But the cycle never seemed to end.

I died by magic—crushed by a spell so powerful it tore my body apart.

Reset.

I died by suffocation.

Reset.

I died by burning.

Reset.

I died by electrocution.

Reset.

I died by sword—a quick, merciless strike that severed my head clean from my body.

Reset.

Each death, each attempt, became more agonizing, but I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. The path was endless, but I had some control now. I would break this cycle.

At the hundredth reset, I was beginning to lose track of the differences. Every time I died, every time I reset, I felt like I was unraveling just a little bit more, a piece of me slipping away. But the pain of it— the sharp, burning agony of each death— was nothing compared to the feeling of finally breaking free.

I would escape.

The question was not if, but when.

✧

Arc 1:No pain —No Gain    

Act 1 : < Starting point of error > 

Which one ever is in  ‘ ✧ ’  is the chapter name.