"Aaaaaaa!"
For what felt like the thousandth time, I hit the ground at a speed so intense it should've splattered me across the stone floor by now. But no, I was fine—physically, at least. My patience? Nonexistent. My dignity? Don't ask.
I pushed myself up, rubbing my aching neck. "How many times am I going to get thrown into this hellhole?" I muttered, staring down the long, dimly lit corridor. The pillars rose around me like solemn guards watching my repeated failures with silent judgment. It was eerie, empty, and all too familiar. The chill in the air was heavy, as though it were a living thing, watching my every step. But what really killed me wasn't the corridor itself—it was the figure at its end.
Ashkart.
The one and only.
The Hero, frozen in time, standing with that blank stare, waiting. His golden hair seemed to shine even in the dim light, and his sword, unsheathed and ready, was pointed at the ground. But make no mistake—one step too close, and he'd use it with the kind of speed and precision that shouldn't be possible for anyone who was half a corpse.
"Okay, Hero," I mumbled, my voice a thin thread of determination, "we're doing this again."
I took a deep breath, and then I was off—sprinting, layering myself with every spell I could think of, the corridor blurring around me as I poured all of my strength into this one dash.
Swish.
My eyesight started spinning before I could even make sense of what had happened. The next thing I knew, I was staring at my own severed body lying on the ground beside me, blood still streaming from my neck.
"Ahhhh!" I screamed—at least, my head did, right before the entire scene reset, like some twisted save point.
I was back, stood at the beginning of the hallway, sweating profusely, my heart thumping in my ears. The hero remained motionless, his face as blank and unintelligible as ever. And I was aware that I would be here forever if I didn't try again.
"All right, one more," I muttered, gulping back the bile of annoyance that was building in my throat. "I'm done after one more. I'm going to burn this place down if I don't succeed this time.
Again, I dashed, spells blazing around me like a halo of magic—[Conceal], [Shield], [Shadow Step]. Each one layered on top of the last, a thick barrier of protection between me and that goddamned sword. This time, I wasn't holding back, giving every ounce of power I had.
I got closer, closer—
Swish.
Darkness.
When I opened my eyes, I was back at the start. My body reformed, and I slumped forward, feeling the crushing weight of each death in my bones. This wasn't just physical exhaustion. It was like my very soul was cracking under the pressure. I could practically feel my mind unraveling with each attempt.
"This… is ridiculous," I muttered, clutching at my hair, half-ready to yank it out. "I could be the fastest person alive, invisible, wrapped in layers of divine armor, and he'd still slice my head off like it's nothing."
I was tempted to just sit down, cross my legs, and wait for some divine intervention to fix this whole mess for me. But I couldn't. The path behind me was sealed tight, and I'd already tried every trick I knew to break it. The only way was forward—through him.
"Fine," I growled, pulling myself together. "If the hero wants me to keep dying, then fine. We'll go again, Ashkart. But this time, I'm not holding back."
I threw every defensive spell I had at myself, even the ones I usually reserved for doomsday scenarios. [Holy Ward], [Indomitable Will], [Draconic Protection]—all of them layered into a thick shell of magic, so heavy I could feel the power humming through me. I cast [Conceal] three times over, just for good measure, and threw in [Silent Step], [Divine Speed], and any other spell I could think of to make myself untouchable.
One deep breath, and then I was off.
My speed felt unnatural, the corridor blurring into a haze as I hurtled forward. This was it. This was the one.
I'd barely made it five feet from him before my head hit the ground again.
"Aaaaaaa!"
I screamed in frustration, clutching at my head when I reformed at the checkpoint once more. I could still feel the phantom pain from each slice, and it was beginning to feel as though my neck itself was cursed.
I paced back and forth, my mind racing, murmuring, "There must be a way through." "I'm not meant to use force to accomplish this. I've experimented with defense, speed, and stealth.
I let out a sigh and collapsed on the floor, gazing up at the corridor's lofty, arched ceiling. In addition to the recurrent fatalities, the task's sheer craziness made my head spin. There was no beating Ashkart. He was a wall of almighty power, with flawless reflexes. He was made to keep me from moving.
I almost joked to myself, "Perhaps he's just waiting for a better challenge." Then, though, a tiny, absurd thought crept into my head.
Maybe he wasn't expecting a fight at all. Maybe this was about something else.
I stood up slowly, my mind racing with ideas. Could it be that he was still holding onto some shred of humanity, something that would let me through if I could reach it?
"Alright, Ashkart," I said, stepping forward. "Let's talk, hero to hero."
But, of course, one wrong step, and I was back to where I started—minus my head.
"Aaaaaaaa!"
I'd tried everything: speed, stealth, begging, rationalizing. Nothing worked. Ashkart was as unmovable as a mountain, and I was starting to feel more like a pebble being crushed under his sword with each attempt.
This time, I approached with a different strategy. Instead of trying to bypass him, I knelt at the edge of the corridor, bowing my head in mock reverence. Maybe a bit of flattery would work.
"Please, oh mighty hero, allow me to pass through and save your kingdom," I said, even though my pride chafed at every word. "I don't seek to harm you. I only want to break the seal and put an end to this madness. Can you, great Ashkart, find it in your heart to—"
And, naturally, my head rolled across the floor before I could finish.
I respawned, standing up once more, the sarcasm dying on my lips. "Alright," I said through gritted teeth, "if that's how it is, Ashkart, then I'll just keep trying."
And I did. Again and again, I sprinted, evaded, and defended, each attempt a new version of failure. No matter how I tried to approach him, Ashkart was ready, faster than I could imagine. I'd lost count of the deaths, lost track of time. Each attempt felt more futile than the last, but I was far past the point of giving up.
Finally, as I stood once more at the starting line, my breath ragged, my vision swimming, I allowed myself a bitter smile.
"You might kill me a thousand times, Ashkart," I said, my voice low and fierce, "but I won't stop."
I took one step forward, then another, my heart pounding, my pulse steady.
"One more time," I whispered. And I meant it, even though I'd probably say the same thing a thousand more times after this.