Valen's steps echoed in the hollow landscape, each one reverberating in the dead air. He didn't know where he was headed, and he didn't care. The path ahead was as empty as his thoughts, stretching out into the horizon like the rest of his life—endless, aimless, and without purpose.
But there was something different about this place. It wasn't just the silence that enveloped him, or the grayness of the world. There was a weight to it, an oppressive force that hung over everything. It was as if the world itself was watching, waiting for something.
"You have been chosen," the voice came again, as distant as before, but now with a slight edge, a pressure in its tone that cut through the air. "You will not be allowed to simply drift. You will fight. You will fail. And you will try again."
Valen's eyes flickered for a moment, but he said nothing. There was no anger, no confusion—just the dull acceptance of something that had been decided for him long ago. Fighting, failing, trying again. It was all just the same cycle. It had always been the same.
The ground beneath his feet shifted, a faint tremor running through the earth. He stopped, his gaze unfocused, staring at the nothingness ahead. In the distance, something moved. A shape, dark and looming, almost too far to make out clearly, but undeniably there.
It wasn't the first time Valen had encountered such things in this world. The creatures, the twisted figures that had once been men, the corrupted beasts that roamed the broken earth—they had been his enemies. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
Another step, and the shape became clearer. The towering figure had a grotesque, half-human form, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, and eyes that glowed with an eerie red hue. It lumbered forward, its movements jerky and erratic.
Valen didn't react. He didn't need to. He had fought creatures like this before. His mind had already shut down, going through the motions without any need for conscious thought. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword as the creature grew closer.
When it was within range, it lunged at him, its monstrous claws slashing through the air. Valen's body moved automatically, dodging and striking with mechanical precision. There was no fear in his heart, no anticipation. Only the cold knowledge that this battle, like all the others, would end the same way—his victory, hollow and unearned.
He struck again. And again.
Each blow landed with a sickening thud, the creature's roars fading into the background as if they were part of the environment itself. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Valen stood over the beast, his sword buried deep in its chest.
The silence returned, more oppressive than before. Valen didn't look down at the creature. He didn't look at anything. His chest barely rose and fell with shallow breaths. Another victory, another lifeless body to add to the pile.
But then, something caught his attention. The air shimmered slightly, and before he could react, the world around him began to fold. The earth trembled once more, and he found himself back where he had started. The wasteland. The ruined cities. The dead silence.
"Again," the voice whispered, so soft he almost didn't hear it. But he knew what it meant. It had always meant this. "Again, you will fight. And again, you will fail."
Valen's eyes, cold and unreadable, swept over the landscape once more. He didn't speak. There was no point in asking why. There was no answer that mattered. No explanation that could make sense of this endless, pointless cycle. The battle was inevitable. The failure, too.
He had known this would happen.
With his sword still in hand, Valen walked forward, already preparing for the next fight. The next failure. The next loop. And so it would continue.