Pain. That's the first thing I feel. A searing agony tears through my body as I lay on the cold, blood-soaked ground. My fingers twitch, grasping at the broken sword buried in my chest. The metallic taste of my own blood fills my mouth as my ragged breaths slow.

I failed. Again.

Above me, the sky is a swirling void, painted crimson by the light of the shattered moon. The Demon King, wreathed in black flames, looms over me, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

"This is the end, Ren." His voice is deep, mocking. "You fought well, but you were always meant to fall. Just like the other times."

My fingers curl into a fist. My body is broken, my mana drained, but my mind is still intact. I can feel it—the weight of 999 deaths pressing down on my soul.

Every betrayal. Every loss. Every moment of despair.

For years, I've fought against fate. Every time I die, the world resets. I wake up at the same starting point, stripped of everything except the memories of my past lives.

And every time, I try. I train. I adapt. But no matter how strong I become, the Demon King always wins.

My vision blurs. My body is giving out. This is the 999th death. My next regression… will be the last.

A cold laugh escapes my lips. "You think this is over?"

The Demon King raises an eyebrow. "You can't even stand."

I grit my teeth. I've played defensively for too long. Always gathering allies. Always preparing. But this time… this time, I won't hold back.

I won't try to win. I'll make sure the Demon King never sees his next sunrise.

With the last of my strength, I force my lips into a smirk. "Enjoy your victory. I'll be back."

The Demon King frowns. "What are you—"

I stab the broken sword into my own throat.

A wave of darkness swallows me whole.

I gasp, bolting upright. My body is drenched in sweat, my breathing ragged. I'm alive.

The familiar scent of damp wood fills my nostrils. A small, candle-lit room. The creaky bed. The wooden desk covered in old parchment.

I know this place. My first checkpoint.

I turn my head. There, hanging from the wall, is a rusted blade. My first sword.

I exhale sharply. My hands tremble—not from fear, but from raw, unfiltered rage.

999 deaths. 999 failures.

This is my last chance. There will be no more retries.

This time, I won't hold back. No more alliances. No more hesitation.

I will become the monster the world fears.

And I will kill the Demon King first.

[Final Regression Activated.]