Lucian sat in silence. The forest was still cold yet he wasn't shivering.
Then, the voice returned.
[Welcome, Lucian Wrenford.]
[You have entered the Realm of Vorhalla.]
[You are now bound as a Servant of the Royal Line of Meranne.]
He stared into the air where the words shimmered faintly. They weren't floating letters, they were thoughts pressed into his mind, soft and distant like they came from something beyond him.
A servant? he thought. Royal line?
The voice continued before he could think further.
[You serve under Lady Guinevere Von Meranne, the rightful heir to the throne of Vorhalla.]
[Your mission: locate and protect her from imminent death.]
[Failure will result in immediate dissolution of existence.]
His throat tightened. "Protect her? I don't even know where I am…"
The system ignored his words. Its tone was neither kind nor cold.
[You are bound to her fate. Her life sustains your cycle. Her death will end it.]
Lucian looked around again. The forest stretched endlessly. The light above was red, like blood diluted through mist.
He tried to steady himself. "Guinevere Von Meranne…" he whispered, tasting the foreign name.
Images began to form in his mind, not his own, but memories not belonging to him.
Vorhalla was the kingdom of the western continent, Memorin, built from marble and ash.
It was a kingdom of towers reaching into the clouds, ruled by King Roderic Von Meranne. He had six children, each born of different queens. Among them, Guinevere, the youngest and the king's dearest.
She had hair pale as frost, eyes of faded blue, and a voice the king once said could calm the storms. The people adored her. The nobles envied her.
The memories deepened, playing like a story carved into the fabric of time.
When the king lived, Guinevere walked behind him during every council, quiet but always present. Her siblings, nobles hardened by corruption, smiled before him but whispered after.
The first prince, Cassian, called her "the king's puppet." The second, Mordain, said she was "the shadow that eats the crown."
But the king ignored them all.
He gave Guinevere his seal, the one carved from pure white crystal—the mark of succession.
From that day, the court turned cold. Servants bowed to her in daylight but spit at her shadow by night.
Lucian saw the backstabbing feasts, the broken oaths, and the quiet isolation of a girl born into poison.
Then the memory shifted into the king's death.
Roderic Von Meranne was found lifeless in his chambers. His personal doctors said that he died due to poisoning, which meant someone assassinated him.
The court erupted, and the first to be accused was Guinevere, obviously.
"She wanted the crown!" one of her brothers shouted. "She murdered our father to take it!"
The others joined, but no one defended her. As expected of the nobles that hated her because of the previous king's favoritism.
Lucian saw the chains clamped on her wrists and the bruises on her skin as they dragged her through the throne hall.
Her siblings smiled, knowing they achieved their goals.
Cassian took the throne. Mordain became his blade. The others became wolves, circling her cell, feeding on her suffering.
The guards beat her.
The maids refused her food. They stripped her of her name, calling her "the White Witch" and laughing as she trembled in the cold stone dungeon.
And through all of it, she didn't beg. She didn't scream. She just stared at the torchlight above her head, whispering one thing over and over.
"I will not die here."
Years passed in the flash of memory.
One night, she escaped.
A fire burned through the east wing of the castle. No one knew who helped her or how she fled, but by dawn, Guinevere Von Meranne was gone.
The memory faded, leaving Lucian standing in the quiet forest again, his hands shaking.
"So that's it…" he whispered. "She's on the run."
[Correct.]
The voice returned.
[Guinevere Von Meranne has escaped the capital of Vorhalla. She is currently being pursued by royal knights under Prince Cassian's command. You are to intercept and protect her within three days.]
"Three days…" Lucian murmured. "I don't even know how to find her."
[Guidance will be given. Survival is your own responsibility.]
A faint pulse spread through his body like a second heartbeat not his own. His surroundings shifted slightly, and in the distance, a faint blue glow shimmered between the trees.
He took a slow step forward. "So I really have to do this…"
Fear crawled in his stomach. He was no fighter. Back on Earth, he couldn't even save his sister without dying. Now they expect me to protect a princess?
Still, something inside him steadied. The same feeling he had when Clementine cried and he stood between her and the gun. He didn't want to die again. But he couldn't just stand still.
[Do you accept your role as Servant of the Death Loop?]
He stared at the words burning faintly in the air. "Do I even have a choice?"
[No.]
"Fine. Then… I'll do it."
The forest wind stirred, as if the world itself acknowledged his answer. The light above flickered.
[Task Confirmed.]
[Current Objective: Locate Lady Guinevere. Protect until the death cycle ends.]
[Note: Every death reshapes your path. Failure will erase you entirely.]
Lucian clenched his fists. Death loop… so it wasn't a dream after all.
He began walking toward the glow ahead. His body felt light but fragile, as if he was still half-ghost.
Each step echoed faintly, swallowed by the quiet forest.
He looked down at his hands. They were steady now. The cowardice still lingered, buried deep, but he could move.
The glow ahead flared brighter, like a distant beacon.
Somewhere beyond those trees, Guinevere Von Meranne, the hated princess, the fallen heir, was still running for her life.
And Lucian Wrenford, a dead boy bound by death itself, was now the only one meant to reach her.
Lucian stared at it, his breath steadying. "If I die again," he whispered, "I'll make sure it means something."
As he said it, something inside him clicked.
His heartbeat calmed. The fear dulled into a sharp focus. He locked his jaw and started running.
The branches whipped against his arms as he pushed through the forest, the sound of his steps echoing against the damp soil.
Then—
"—You…"
A voice came from ahead.
Lucian froze.
A figure stumbled out from between the trees.
A girl in torn white clothes, her hair long and pale like snow, sticking to her cheeks. Her breathing was heavy, each exhale sharp and strained.
Mud clung to her dress, her knees scraped. But her eyes—those faded eyes—still burned with defiance.
Guinevere Von Meranne.
She looked up, shocked at first, then relief flickered in her expression. "You're alive…"
Lucian blinked. "Alive…?"
Her voice trembled as she stepped closer. "I thought you died. They told me they killed you at the gate."
He stared at her, words caught in his throat. She remembers me.
Then came the sharp ache in his head—flashes of someone else's memories, blurring into his own.
He saw himself kneeling before her in a golden hall, wearing black armor with the crest of the Meranne line on his chest.
The voice that wasn't his spoke clearly:
"Your safety is my oath, Lady Guinevere. My name is Eiden Cross."
He saw training yards, quiet patrols at her side, secret meetings in the garden when she was locked away. The old Eiden had served her until the day the castle fell.
Lucian gripped his head, breathing hard. Eiden… that's the name of this body.
Guinevere looked at him with confusion. "Eiden? Are you—"
He cut her off softly. "Call me Lucian."
Her brows furrowed. "Lucian?"
"It's… my name now." He forced a small smile.
She hesitated but nodded. "Very well… Lucian."
Before he could say anything more, the familiar chime of the system echoed in his mind.
[Quest: Protect Guinevere Von Meranne]
[Objective: Escape the Western Forest and reach the border of Vorhalla.]
[Death Limit: 5.]
His heart skipped. "Death limit…?"
The words faded, replaced by another message.
[Failure to protect or exceeding death limit will result in true erasure.]
[Rewards: Hidden.]
Lucian clenched his fists. "Five…" he muttered. "Five times, and I'm gone for good."
He swallowed. It wasn't the first time he'd seen death. But it was the first time he knew it was coming for him again and again. I really have to die for this system to work...
Guinevere's voice pulled him back. "Lucian, what's wrong?"
He looked at her, forcing his expression calm. "Nothing. We have to move."
She nodded, still catching her breath. "The knights… they're close. Cassian sent them. They'll find us if we stay here."
Lucian looked at the faint trail of crushed leaves behind her. There were footprints and broken branches. They were too exposed, and could lead the knights to them.
He grabbed her hand without thinking. "This way."
She hesitated only for a moment, then followed as he led her deeper into the forest.
The trees grew denser. Every sound like the rustling of leaves or the crack of a twig, made his pulse quicken.
This body remembers fighting, he realized. His steps were steady, almost instinctive. But his mind, his real mind, was terrified.
He had seen too much death. Every scream replayed in his head like broken echoes. I hate this… seeing people die…
Now, he was the one walking toward it.
They stopped near a stream, the water reflecting the sky. Guinevere knelt, washing the dirt from her hands.
Her voice was soft but firm. "They won't stop, you know. Cassian won't let me live."
Lucian stared at the water. "Then we'll keep running until we can't."
She looked at him for a moment, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but then a faint noise cut her off.
Hooves of horses.
Lucian turned sharply. In the distance, through the fog, shadows moved between the trees.
"Already?" he muttered.
Guinevere stood, eyes wide. "They found us."
The sound grew louder.
But then the ground began to tremble slightly. The echo of marching boots joined the rhythm.
Lucian's breath caught.
It wasn't dozens. It was hundreds.
The forest filled with light as more torches appeared through the trees, spreading in every direction like a sea of fire.
Knights on horseback, soldiers in black armor bearing the crest of Meranne.
"They brought the whole division…" Lucian whispered.
Guinevere's face paled. "Cassian wants me dead tonight."
Lucian tightened his grip on her hand. "Then we need run, no matter what."
The forest roared with approaching soldiers. The glow of torches surrounded them, and Lucian felt that cold weight press against his chest again.
He didn't know how many times he'd die before this ended. But he knew one thing.
He couldn't let her die here.