Kael gripped the sword with his hands trembling, blood still drying on his torn clothes. His breathing came shallow, and his whole body felt heavy as if it were going to collapse again.
But the figure stood before him, unrelenting, his blade gleaming faintly.
Kael swallowed hard, fear replaced by an ember of courage. He couldn't walk away. He wasn't sure why, but something within him did not let him give up. He tightened his grip on the hilt, forcing his legs to steady beneath him.
The figure tilted his head slightly, the motion almost dismissive. Without a word, he lunged again.
Kael raised the sword awkwardly in an attempt to block, but it was far too late. The edge of the figure's blade cut deep into his shoulder, sending a hot surge of pain down his arm. Kael cried out, staggering back as blood poured from the wound.
The second strike came in the very next moment, his legs were swept out from under him. He hit the ground hard, gasping as the breath was taken from his lungs. The next blow shattered his ribs, the sound a sick echo through the chamber.
Kael's screamed as the figure's sword pierced him once more, sliding through his side cleanly. Agony drowned out all thought. His body immediately spasmed uncontrollably as he was left on the edge of unconsciousness, his vision dimming.
Through the pain and white in his eyes, he saw the figure stand over him, his hand forcing Kael's mouth open once more.
The bitter, acrid potion burned its way down Kael's throat. His muscles swiftly seized as a scorching heat burnt through his body. The pain shot and twisted, but it did not kill him.
Instead, it stiched his broken body back together, leaving him drawing air in desperate gasps as his wounds disappeared as though they had never been.
Kael lay there for a moment, chest heaving, as the voice came again, cold...relentless:
"Again."
---
The cycle repeated.
Kael rose, holding the blade tighter each time. His attacks were clumsy, his footwork unsteady, and his defense practically nonexistent.
The figure tore through him with a ruthlessness, every strike was calculated to cripple without granting release. Bones broke, flesh was torn, and blood stained the ground under them.
But each time, as Kael's body was left broken, the potion would bring him back. His body healed, but his mind left fractured a little more with every defeat. And with each revival, the cryptic text would flash before his eye:
> ◇ 0.00016% memory unlocked.
> ◇ 0.00034% memory unlocked.
> ◇ 0.00052% memory unlocked.
The memories were flickers—images of battlefields covered in fire and blood, of towering gods with contemptuous gazes, and of a sword too massive to be real, shattered into fragments.
They came and went, leaving Kael disoriented and nauseous.
And even then, with every near-death experience, something changed in him...shifted.
His was no longer completely consumed by fear. His screams had gone quieter, his movements more intentional. His hands, previously unsteady and weak, began to hold the sword with a tighter grip.
The figure's blade fell upon him again and again, but Kael stopped flinching as much.
He stopped pleading for mercy.
---
On the twentieth attempt, Kael stood a fraction taller. His breaths were ragged but measured, and his eyes, once wide with fear, narrowed with determination.
He shot forward before the figure could make the first move. The strike was awkward, far too slow and telegraphed, but it was an attack nonetheless.
The figure swatted the blade aside effortlessly and delivered a punishing counterstrike. The tip of his sword slashed across Kael's chest, drawing a line of blood. Kael stumbled, but he didn't fall. He clenched his jaw and swung again, this time with more force.
The attack missed entirely. The figure sidestepped, almost lazily, before slamming the hilt of his sword into Kael's temple. Kael hit the ground hard, his head spinning as black spots danced in his vision.
The bitter taste of the potion greeted him moments later, dragging him back to consciousness. His lungs burned as he gasped for air, his vision swimming as the familiar text flashed again.
> ◇ 0.00102% memory unlocked.
---
The attacks continued. The defeats mounted. But something in Kael refused to break.
On what felt like the hundreath attempt, Kael moved differently.
His body reacted before his mind fully understood. As the figure's blade came down toward him, a faint tingle moved through his veins. It was subtle at first, like a whisper into a storm, but it grew louder, stronger.
He raised his arm by instinct, and with a sudden pulse, a translucent shield erupted in front of him.
The figure's blade collided with it, sending a shockwave surging through the air. The shield cracked on impact, fissures spreading rapidly across its surface, but it held.
For the first time, Kael wasn't immediately cut down.
The figure paused, tilting his head slightly as though in mild curiosity. His blade retracted, and silence held a moment.
Kael stared at the remnants of the shield, his breathing now uneven. His left arm ached where the energy had erupted, and the glow of blight danced across his skin before fading.
The figure finally let out a low, contemplative hum.
"Hmm."
Before Kael could react, the figure moved in a blur. The blade pierced Kael's side, slicing through flesh and bone with efficiency that was nothing if not brutal.
The shield hadn't been enough to protect him entirely. He gasped, his knees falling as the pain returned in full force.
The figure drew his blade free, letting Kael collapse. Blood pooled under him as he struggled to breathe, his vision going white.
The bottle, now familiar, was forced into his mouth again, and he choked on the potion as it assaulted his senses.
As the pain began to fade and strength returned to his body, Kael looked up at the figure, exhausted but determined. The figure found his gaze, silent for a moment before kicking the bloodied sword back toward him.
"Again."