"It's okay. Just a death."
"What do you mean by 'just'?"
"I meant what I said." A broken mirror reflected my face. Unkempt silver hair. Dirty face and a grievous wound etched through my left eye. What I hated in each death was watching my ethereal face become ugly at the end. So, I always tried to avoid reflective materials around me.
Alas, not this time. A shadow of a sword flashed in my eyes. Then the world around me turned upside down, leaving a headless body in its path.
[You have died…]
And it repeated. Again and again until I could kill that abomination. It was difficult, but not impossible. A little more death… that was all I needed. After all, I was someone blessed by death… no… perhaps feared by death.
Before returning to the last checkpoint, my thoughts wandered into that day… a day which changed my life as a slum rat.
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