[ Death Count: 45 ]
I let out a long sigh.
Forty-five deaths.
Forty-five failures.
At this point, I'm not even angry anymore.
Just tired.
Every time I thought I'd figured something out.
Every time I thought I'd finally found a way to survive.
And every single time...
I died.
The first few deaths were almost embarrassing.
- - -
After proving that time rewound, I thought the solution was simple.
Don't mention his name, don't mention things I shouldn't know.
In short, act like a normal child.
Easy.
Except...
I wasn't a normal child.
The first death after that realization lasted less than a minute.
I approached him.
Acted scared, confused.
Everything was going perfectly.
Then he asked me a simple question.
"Are you afraid?"
The words spoken didn't come from his mouth but rather rang in my head. He was using telepathy.
Why, I don't know, and I didn't have time to ponder about it.
I immediately answered yes.
In that moment, he killed me.
At first, I didn't understand why.
Then it hit me.
My voice never shook.
My heartbeat never changed.
I said I was scared.
But my body said otherwise.
Weird, because in that moment I really was scared.
Ok, let's change that, I thought.
The next death lasted longer.
Much longer.
I thought I'd fixed the issue.
This time I forced myself to panic.
Forced myself to act frightened. I didn't show an inch of resistance or confidence in my step.
Then he started walking.
Where, I don't know. What I did know is that I had to follow him. It'd be suspicious if I didn't, so like a child with no one to turn to, I began to follow him.
I didn't even notice my mistake.
Onyx did.
The battlefield was filled with broken weapons.
Ruined armor.
Corpses.
I let myself be at ease for a while and actually took a look at some of the weapons.
I identified the make of a sword sticking from the ground.
A swordsmith technique from centuries ago.
For a race that wanted peace, they sure knew how to forge weapons.
Before I knew it, I was transported back into the void.
Apparently, seven-year-olds aren't supposed to recognize ancient equipment, let alone take an interest in it.
Who knew.
Another time, I survived nearly an hour.
An entire hour.
At the time, I thought I had finally done it.
Then we were attacked.
Or at least... I thought we were.
A piece of burning debris fell from the sky.
Instinct took over.
I moved before I even thought about it.
The exact movement needed to avoid it.
A movement refined through countless battles.
Onyx watched the whole thing, then he killed me.
There were other deaths.
Far too many others.
With each death, I adjusted my plan, making sure that any mistakes I made would not be carried into the new plan.
At some point, a random question surfaced in my mind.
When did I stop fearing death?
The question caught me off guard.
The first time I died, I was terrified.
The second time wasn't much better.
Even the tenth death made my stomach twist.
But by the twenty-first death, the thought of dying barely affected me.
- - -
"...Huh," I mutter to myself back in the present.
When did that happen?
At what point did death become normal?
A bitter smile forms on my face.
"Well."
My voice sounds strangely calm.
"I've never had someone push me this far before."
The smile disappears.
The light beneath my feet begins to spread once more.
A moment later, the battlefield returns.
The crimson sky, the mountain of corpses, the rivers of flame—everything is exactly the same.
Just like every other time.
I begin walking.
Eventually, the broken stone structure comes into view.
Just like every other death.
And just like every other death—
He's there.
Standing motionless atop the stone, almost like he was waiting for someone.
Almost like he knew I'd come.
I approach slowly. I act confused as always, scared as always, pathetic as always.
Everything proceeds exactly as it has dozens of times before.
Until—
A thought suddenly appears.
A desperate one and outright ridiculous, though.
But after forty-five deaths, desperation is all I have left.
Before I can stop myself, I mutter quietly.
"...You must be lonely."
For the first time, Onyx reacts.
Only slightly.
But enough.
My eyes widen.
That got his attention.
I continue before I lose my nerve.
"I mean..."
I scratch the back of my head.
"You've been standing here every time I've seen you."
The words leave my mouth slowly.
"Always alone."
The battlefield becomes silent.
The flames seem quieter somehow.
For several seconds, Onyx says nothing.
Then—
"...Lonely."
This is the second time I've heard him speak, not telepathically but with his own mouth.
But the way he said that word, it's like he hasn't heard it in a very long time.
I nod.
"If I stayed in one place forever..."
I lower my head.
"I think I'd get lonely too."
Silence.
For a moment—
A single moment—
I think I've done it. I've found something. Not the warrior, not the executor, but rather the person behind the armor.
Then Onyx speaks.
"...Interesting."
My heart begins pounding.
Interesting?
Then he slowly lowers his gaze.
Our golden eyes lock onto each other.
And suddenly—
With a single step, he appears in front of me.
"...Who are you?" he asks.
Not the child.
Me.
The real me.
For the first time in forty-five deaths...
I don't have an answer.
A golden flash fills my vision.
Darkness follows.
...
[ Death Count: 46 ]
My eyes open.
The void greets me once more.
For several seconds, I don't move.
Then I slowly raise a hand and cover my face.
"...Right."
My voice sounds tired.
Very tired.
I let out a long breath.
"Negotiation won't work."
The words feel strangely relieving.
Like I've finally accepted something.
No lies.
No acting.
No tricks.
No negotiations.
Just the cold, hard truth of reality.
Slowly, I lower my hand.
Golden eyes appear in my mind.
That impossible armor.
That impossible strength.
That impossible existence.
A small smile forms on my face.
"Alright then."
I rise to my feet.
I tried talking to the person behind the armor, but if even that won't work, then—
"...I'll kill the beast instead."