Evan Thorn had always imagined his death would be a slow, quiet thing. Old age, maybe. A peaceful bed. Not this.
Not bleeding out in a ditch while smoke rolled over the hills and the sky turned the color of a dying fire.
The battlefield was chaos—shattered shields, broken blades, and the distant thunder of something colossal tearing apart the defensive lines. Evan's lungs burned. His vision swam. His fingers trembled around the hilt of a sword that suddenly felt too heavy for him to lift.
He was seventeen.
He was a trainee.
He was not supposed to die on his first real mission.
Yet here he was, blood pooling beneath him, the world fading into a distant, drowning quiet.
A shadow fell over him.
A massive armored beast—no, not a beast, a man. The towering enemy knight looked as if he was carved from obsidian, each plate of his armor glowing with sickly red lines. He raised a blade wider than Evan's head.
"This is the end, child," the knight rumbled.
Evan couldn't argue.
He closed his eyes.
The blade fell—
—then stopped.
Not because someone blocked it.
Not because the knight hesitated.
Because time itself froze.
The smoke halted mid-air.
The flames paused mid-flicker.
The war cries around him became muffled echoes swallowed by a sudden void.
A voice—mechanical, cold, and impossibly ancient—spoke inside his skull.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING…]Welcome, Host #2071
System Activated: TEN-THOUSAND RETURNS
Return Count: 1 / 10,000
Primary Directive: SURVIVE THE DEATH THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE OCCURRED.
Evan's heart stuttered.
"What—what is happening?"
The world distorted. His vision shattered into fragments. The colors drained away until everything became white.
He felt himself dissolve.
Fall.
And then—
He woke up.
THE MORNING BEFORE HE DIEDBirdsong.
The smell of bread baking.
The warmth of sunlight gently touching his face.
Evan shot upright in bed, gasping so hard he nearly threw up. His heart thundered in his chest. Sweat soaked his shirt.
"No… no, that was… I died. I died—"
His small wooden room was intact. His sword leaned against the wall where he always left it. His training uniform lay folded on his desk. Outside, the village bells chimed softly—four days before the battle.
Exactly four days.
"What the hell…"
A shimmering blue panel snapped into existence in front of him like a summoned spell.
[RETURN COMPLETE]Return Count: 1 / 10,000
Condition to Break the Loop: Unmet
Hint: You died before you were meant to.
Evan stared.
"You—You brought me back? Why? How?"
No answer.
The panel dissolved.
He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping on his boots as he rushed to the window. He shoved open the shutters.
Life.
Normal life.
Children running.
Merchants calling out offers.
Soldiers chatting near the well.
His best friend Lira laughing with an armful of apples she probably didn't pay for.
Alive.
Everyone alive.
The battle—the massacre—wouldn't happen for another four days. But he remembered every detail of it. The screams. The collapse of the left flank. The enemy knight's blade.
He felt himself breathe out shakily.
"Okay… okay. I'm alive. Somehow."
A slight buzzing hum returned to his ears.
A new panel appeared.
[BEGINNING OF RETURN #2]Your death has been recorded.
Your timeline has been restored.
All choices from this point forward will shape your next death.
"Next—? Excuse me?!"
Another line blinked in.
[You may die up to 10,000 times]He froze.
"Ten… thousand…?"
THE FIRST ATTEMPT TO CHANGE FATEBy the time Evan stumbled out of his home and into the sunlit street, he had one thought burning in his skull:
I'm not dying again.
I'm stopping that battle.
Somehow.
He sprinted toward the training yard where Captain Roran drilled the recruits every morning. Roran was a hard man—muscle packed onto muscle, graying beard, eyes sharp enough to see lies before you told them.
Evan skidded to a halt in front of him.
"Captain! You have to listen—there's going to be an attack in four days."
Roran raised an eyebrow. "An attack?"
"By a corrupted knight and his forces—they're coming from the eastlands. They'll break through the valley pass, and the entire left flank will collapse—"
"Thorn," Roran interrupted, "what in the seven hells are you talking about?"
"I—I saw it! I lived through it! I died in it!"
Roran stared. Not angry. Not skeptical.
Concerned.
"Evan, did you hit your head?"
"No! I was there! I remember everything!"
"An 'obsidian knight'? An entire corrupted army? Son, that sounds like tavern tales."
"It's not! You have to believe me—"
But he didn't.
And that was the problem.
Because four days later, despite Evan's warnings…
Despite him trying to evacuate civilians…
Despite him attempting to sabotage the scouting orders…
Despite begging, yelling, even crying—
No one listened.
And the battle happened exactly as before.
He died again.
RETURN #3He woke up screaming.
The sun in the same place.
The birds singing the same song.
Lira stealing the same apples.
"Gods damn it—!"
A system panel chimed softly.
[RETURN COUNT: 3 / 10,000]Condition to Break the Loop: Still Unmet.
Hint: Survival requires correction, not avoidance.
"What does that even mean?!"
But the System did not answer.
He had no teacher.
No guide.
No explanation for why he was chosen.
Only death.
And return.
Again and again.
TRYING AGAIN AND AGAINReturn #4:
He tried to flee the kingdom. A border patrol caught him. Dead.
Return #7:
He tried to assassinate the enemy commander early. Failed. Dead.
Return #12:
He tried to hide in the mountains. A monster ate him. Dead.
Return #19:
He tried to convince the king personally. Guards arrested him. Dead.
Return #26:
He tried to train harder. And harder. And harder. He still died on the field.
No matter what he did…
No matter which path he took…
He always ended up back in his bed with that same chime echoing in his skull.
[RETURN COUNT: 26 / 10,000]Hint Update: You cannot stop the battle. But you can survive it.
"Survive it," Evan whispered. "Not prevent it."
The System wasn't giving him a choice.
He would fight.
Whether he wanted to or not.
But this time…
He would fight with knowledge no one else had.
He would fight with skill earned through death after death after death.
He would fight with the advantage of living the same four days twenty-six times.
And he would win.
Or die ten thousand more times trying.
Evan tightened his fists.
"Fine. If I can't stop the battle… then I'll become strong enough to live through it."
He didn't realize then:
This was only the beginning.