The battlefield was drenched in blood.
The Head Hunters fought viciously, cutting down knights and adventurers alike, but Nathaniel Everhart carved through them like a force of nature.
His sword glowed with divine power, every swing cleaving through mercenaries as if they were nothing. Where he stepped, the ground itself seemed to reject death, pushing back against the carnage.
But Lynn didn't hesitate.
He met Nathaniel's blade head-on.
Clang!
Their swords clashed, the impact sending shockwaves through the air. Lynn's arms burned from the sheer force, but he grinned.
"This guy is ridiculous."
Nathaniel's movements were precise, honed by years of training, but Lynn fought dirty.
A feint—Nathaniel dodged.
Lynn kicked a corpse at him, forcing him off balance.
A stab—Nathaniel parried.
Lynn grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it into his eyes.
A slash—Nathaniel blocked.
Lynn twisted, using the momentum to dislocate the man's wrist.
Nathaniel gritted his teeth in pain. For the first time, he was struggling.
Lynn laughed.
"You're not invincible, boy."
His sword found Nathaniel's side, piercing through armor. The golden glow around him flickered. Blood seeped from his wound.
Nathaniel stumbled.
Lynn raised his blade for the killing blow—
And then cold steel pierced his back.
His body jerked. A sword had gone straight through his chest.
Lynn's breath hitched.
He looked down at the blade jutting out from his ribs.
A voice behind him.
"How dare you bandit try to kill my sworn brother!"
Lynn's vision blurred, but he laughed softly. He knew this voice. Another main character.
Cassius Alden.
The noble prodigy, the sword genius, the one fated to stand beside Nathaniel as his greatest ally.
"Of course. The script isn't that easy to break."
Lynn stumbled forward. Blood filled his lungs, but his smirk never left.
Nathaniel was panting, on the verge of death. If Cassius had been one second later, he would have been dead.
"So close."
Lynn turned his head slightly, eyes locking with Cassius. His grin widened.
"We'll cross paths again."
And then his body fell on the ground, lifeless.
Blood soaked the earth. The once-dominant Head Hunters were in chaos.
Their leader—Red Wolf—was nowhere to be found.
Their strongest warrior—Gord—had just fallen.
Panic spread like wildfire.
"W-Where's Red Wolf?!" one of the mercenaries screamed, barely parrying an adventurer's sword. "Where the hell is the boss!?"
No answer came.
Instead, death did.
Nathaniel Everhart, though wounded, pushed forward, his sword blazing with divine energy. Every swing cleaved through men like paper.
Cassius Alden moved like a phantom, his sword silent, merciless, precise.
One by one, the Head Hunters fell.
Nyssa, gritted her teeth. "We need to regroup! Find Red Wolf! He'll fix this!"
But the men were already breaking.
Their numbers—once overwhelming—were being culled.
A veteran hunter, Dagen, roared in defiance and charged Nathaniel—only for the hero's blade to tear through his skull.
Another mercenary, Orin, attempted to flee, but Cassius cut him down mid-step.
Bodies piled.
The once-mighty Head Hunters were being slaughtered like animals.
Still, Nyssa refused to run. Not yet.
She scanned the battlefield.
"Where are you, Red Wolf?"
Her fingers clenched around her dagger. He had to be here. He wouldn't abandon them.
Would he?
Nyssa's breath came in ragged gasps as she parried a knight's blade, barely managing to shove her dagger into his throat.
Blood sprayed, but she had no time to think.
The Head Hunters were dying. One by one.
Their strongest were dead. Their formation had crumbled.
And worst of all—their leader was nowhere to be found.
The name echoed across the battlefield, screamed by desperate men.
"Red Wolf! Where are you!?"
"Boss, we're getting wiped out here!"
"We need orders—DAMN IT!"
But no one answered.
The realization settled like ice in Nyssa's gut.
Something was wrong.
Red Wolf wasn't the type to run. He wasn't the type to abandon them.
Then, like a horrible puzzle piece clicking into place, it hit her.
She turned, eyes wild.
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
"…He's dead?"
That was when Cassius struck her down.
His sword buried itself in her back, and the last thought in her mind was the one she feared the most.
"Sister please stay alive."
The Head Hunters, one of the most feared mercenary groups in the kingdom, were no more.
Cycle of Death
Darkness.
Then—pain.
Lynn gasped awake, his body jerking as if he'd just been thrown back into existence. His lungs burned, his fingers twitched, and his mind reeled from the sensation of returning to life.
He was back in the old, rotten hut. The air was damp, the wooden walls cracked. Just like before.
He sighed, sitting up as the system's familiar voice chimed in.
[System Evaluation Complete]
Death Performance: A+
Cause of Death: Slayed by a main character
Impact: Inflicted a mortal wound on the protagonist, drastically altering the story's flow.
Reward: +12,000 Dead Coins
Additional Notification:
The Goddess of Misfortune, Lira, is pleased by your chaotic interference.
You have received her blessing: [Unlucky Death]
Effect: If not careful, you will die in the funniest way possible.
Lynn stared at the notification.
Then he groaned, rubbing his temples.
"Unlucky Death? Really?"
Of all the blessings he could get, he received one that ensured he'd die in the most ridiculous ways imaginable.
"So what now? Am I going to slip on a banana peel and snap my neck?"
Still, the A+ grade was nice. 12,000 Dead Coins wasn't bad either.
Lynn exhaled and opened his inventory.
[Dead Coins: 25,000]
He had enough to buy something useful.
But first—he needed a plan.
Nathaniel was wounded, his plot armor had been pushed to the brink, and the Head Hunters were annihilated.
Lynn leaned back, smirking.
"This was never meant to happen."
The protagonist was supposed to be untouchable. But now? He was one step closer to breaking fate.
But that also meant—fate would push back.
And thanks to Lira, he had a feeling his next death would be even funnier than the last.