Whoosh—
"Hey. WAKE UP."
Pain bloomed—no, erupted through Rynn's stomach and then radiated outward like wildfire. His entire body felt as if it were being pulled apart, tendons shredding, bones splintering, his nerves lighting up in raw white agony.
"AAAH—!"
He jolted upright with a strangled scream. Cold sweat glued his shirt to his skin. His chest rose and fell in ragged, desperate heaves. For a heartbeat he didn't even know where he was, until a heavy boot dug into his side.
"Tch. What a weakling."
The guard, same scarred face, same dead-eyed annoyance, looked down at him with contempt before kicking Rynn again. Compared to having your arms ripped off and your torso torn open by a dragon's teeth, the kick might've been nothing.
But psychologically?
It was everything.
Because it was real.
Rynn crumpled back onto the stone floor, trembling violently. He stared at his hands, flipping them over, then squeezing them into fists so tight they shook. He slapped his cheeks, his chest, his thigh, anything to verify that this wasn't another illusion before death.
But it only made everything more vivid.
'I… I'm alive? Oh my god. Oh my god!'
His breathing grew unstable, shallow, uneven. He crawled to the bucket beside him and vomited, barely holding himself upright. The stench mixed with the humidity of the cell, clinging to him, reminding him he wasn't in his bedroom, wasn't in front of a monitor, wasn't safe.
He looked at the half-reflection in the water, his new face blurred, distorted by mucus and tears.
A pathetic, terrified man.
A man who had died.
"Nonono… fuck, fuck, that wasn't real, it.. it was real." His voice cracked like glass.
The dragon's teeth.
The chains snapping.
The crowd cheering.
His body being torn apart.
The moment his consciousness was swallowed whole.
And then,
This.
Back in the starting cell.
He clutched his head, nails digging into his scalp.
"Did I… respawn?"
He whispered it like a prayer. Like a curse.
'No… If I did, the time wouldn't have changed… even in single player, Thorneheart doesn't shift its timeline… so then… what the hell is causing this?'
His mind frantically spiraled.
If this was a respawn, was it limited?
Was it punishment?
A glitch?
A curse?
A mechanic exclusive to this "Extreme difficulty"?
A God's disruption?
Each thought bred three more until his mind was drowning, until the weight of it.. the hopeless repetition of it, crashed into him.
I've seen this too many times.
Endless suffering.
Endless retry.
And for what?
Just so I can die again?
Tears welled in his eyes, real ones, hot ones, but he smacked himself, hard, snapping the emotion out before it could break him completely.
"Nope-nope. Not doing this. Not falling apart yet."
He inhaled sharply.
"First of all… priorities."
He sat up straighter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A strange silence settled, a kind of forced clarity.
'If I'm given a chance to endlessly retry… doesn't that make me… invincible?'
The thought was absurd.
Insane.
Dangerous.
But that danger sparked something in him, a flicker of life in a dead man's chest.
"…Yeah. That's right." His voice steadied, even if his hands didn't.
If he really resurrected…
If he really returned to the starting point…
Then he had infinite attempts.
Infinite information gathering.
Infinite chances.
He could survive the dragon.
Hell, maybe he could escape the arena entirely.
His fear didn't vanish, but it was smothered under layers of forced bravado, stitched together by desperation.
'If I can infinitely retry… then isn't dying just part of the process?'
A twisted logic.
A hollow confidence.
But it kept him from collapsing.
The thought of 'i can do it better than him' made him feel better, he'd seen endless media depict it, and he'd seen countless post saying 'i can do better', he felt like it was a chance to prove himself, but also to forget about it for a bit.
"The first priority… is information." He murmured, pacing slowly in his cell.
He rubbed at his temples.
Back in the real world, the wikis were massive, pages upon pages explaining mechanics, lore, hidden events, difficulty quirks. But Rynn had skimmed them. Barely. He was a roleplayer, a grinder, not a lore archivist.
He knew some things, but nothing about the inner mechanics of Silverstar's Arena. Nobody did. Even players said it was bugged, cursed, secretly impossible.
A million-dollar bounty was still unclaimed.
Ten years.
Zero survivors.
He swallowed hard.
'But I… have unlimited retries. Right? I… I think I do.'
His stomach tightened.
The arrogance was starting to feel like a mask, thin, fragile.
Still, he forced himself to push onward.
"Okay. Second priority… the layout."
He whispered to himself like he used to while grinding late at night, pretending to be cool, pretending to strategize instead of admitting he was just winging it.
'Gladiators… entertainment slaves… are usually kept in the lower chambers.'
The Inferno—a labyrinthine prison beneath the arena. Dark. Filthy. Filled with unstable prisoners, reckless guards, and dangers that didn't exist in the normal game map.
It wasn't meant to be explored.
It was meant to trap.
Rynn's throat went dry.
'It's dangerous. It's insane. I don't even know if the respawn is guaranteed…'
His heart thudded in his chest, painfully loud.
His palms shook.
His knees felt weak.
"…But if I don't try… I'm going to die again."
He sucked in a breath. Or tried to. It came out shallow.
"Alright. Alright. We do this. I, I do this."
He stood.
Barely.
One shaky hand on the cold stone wall, he walked to the cell bars. He peered out, looking down the long hallway.
Left led deeper into the guard patrol path.
Right led down toward the complex unknown.
The guard earlier had come from the left.
"…Right it is," Rynn whispered to himself, forcing a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.
A smirk that trembled.
A smirk that cracked with fear underneath.
But he stepped forward anyway.
Because what else could he do?
Because he had to.
Because dying wasn't the worst thing anymore.
'Dying without improving… without surviving… that was worse.'
Rynn inhaled, then exhaled, and began walking.
One step toward life.
One step toward death.
One step toward whatever this cursed world was shaping him into.
Endless retries, maybe.
Endless fear, definitely.
But for the first time since arriving, buried under dread and shaking limbs, a thin, dangerous thread of hope pulsed in his chest, that everything will be alright.
***
The corridor felt like it stretched into infinity, a rotting throat swallowing him deeper with every hesitant step. The air grew heavier the farther he walked, thick with the stench of mildew, rust, and old blood baked dry on stone. Each flickering torch cast warped shadows across the walls, walls that bore stains he didn't want to identify. Some splatters were rust-red, some a darker brown, and disturbingly… some were a smeared, sickly black.
Rynn hugged his arms around his stomach.
'At least they're dry,' he tried to reassure himself. The words did nothing.
His bare feet slapped against cold stone, echoing down hallways of empty cells. Every few steps he forced himself to glance behind him, unable to shake the crawling sensation across his spine, like he was being watched… or stalked. But each time, there was nothing. Just hollow darkness.
Minutes blurred into nearly an hour. Each identical corridor eroded his confidence a little more. No guards. No prisoners. No signs of life. The silence became its own kind of torture.
Just when he was beginning to wonder if he somehow wandered out of the arena's dungeon entirely, a soft groan broke the void.
"Ugh…"
Rynn nearly tripped on his own feet.
A body lay sprawled across the stone floor just ahead, massive, bulky, certainly male. Not bodybuilder huge, but still someone who could probably break Rynn in half with one hand. The man's skin was pale, waxy, and his limbs twisted unnaturally. Dead. Definitely dead.
But Rynn's gaze caught on the man's hands, they were clenched tight around something. Something small. Something glinting faintly.
Rynn froze.
'Should… should I try grabbing it? It could be useful. Might even be something that helps me survive.'
His heart hammered painfully.
'If I die doing it, it won't matter, I'll just… respawn again, right? So… I should be good.'
He crouched carefully, inching toward the object the corpse clutched, swallowing hard as he reached out.
Then,
"BAH!"
"AAH—!"
Rynn fell backward so hard the air blasted out of his lungs. The "corpse" twisted, flinging itself upright with impossible speed, tongue lolling out like some deranged specter. Then came laughter, guttural, ragged, broken laughter that echoed down the halls like nails scraping metal.
"HAHAHA! Look what we have here…"
The man—no, the monster of a man rose to his full height. Seven feet tall, broad-muscled like a barbarian sculpted from stone. His hair was a light flaxen color, tied carelessly into a long ponytail. But what struck Rynn most were the two massive black eyepatches strapped over his left eye, crossed over each other in a crude 'X'. His unshaven jaw twitched with manic amusement.
He cracked his neck. "Hey, Ronnie! Get over here. You think we can squeeze some Chimes outta this runt?"
Footsteps thudded forward, heavy like boulders smashing into the ground. A second man emerged from the shadows, slightly shorter but built like a fortress. Muscles bulged under his skin like they were trying to break free. His ears were pointed, dark elf heritage, maybe, and one was torn halfway off. A thick, jagged scar bisected his chest.
"I think he's new, Boss," Ronnie grunted, rubbing his chin. "You can't squeeze milk out of an unborn cow."
The tall one, apparently Boss, clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers.
"Damn, you're right. No Chimes from him then."
He paused.
"But what about his organs? Surely Eli can harvest those?"
Ronnie's eyes gleamed.
"Boss… you're a genius!"
"Of course I am."
They both laughed, loud, proud, and horrifyingly casual. As if they were discussing cutting fruit for dinner instead of tearing open a terrified newcomer.
Rynn?
Rynn was trying not to collapse onto the floor and vomit again.
'Organ harvest? What the hell, what the hell what the hell what the HELL.'
His breathing hitched. His fingers shook uncontrollably. His legs felt like wet noodles glued to the ground. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but he was frozen, caught between fight, flight.
Boss cracked his knuckles.
"So, kid… you wanna make this easy or hard?"
Rynn gulped, voice failing him completely.
Boss grinned widely. Too widely. "Hard it is."
He stepped forward.
Rynn stumbled back. His palms hit the stone wall behind him.
Ronnie pulled out a wickedly curved dagger. "Don't worry, we'll be gentle."
"That's a lie," Boss added cheerfully.
Rynn's heart felt like it was about to rupture.
He opened his mouth, maybe to scream, maybe to beg, but no words came out. His throat locked tight.
Ronnie advanced another step.
Boss tilted his head. "He's shaking. HAH!."
Rynn's vision blurred.
Not again.
Not another horrific death.
Not another moment of helplessness.
But something sparked in him. Not courage. Not bravery. Just raw, survival-driven desperation.
His hand shot to the ground, grabbing the nearest thing he could, a loose, jagged piece of stone. He didn't even think.
Boss blinked. "Huh?"
Rynn hurled the stone directly at his face.
It bounced off harmlessly.
There was a long, silent pause.
Boss slowly turned his head back to Rynn.
"…Ronnie."
"Yeah, Boss?"
"Did the brat just throw a rock at me?"
"Sure did."
Boss cracked his neck again. "Good. Haven't stretched in a while."
They both stepped forward.
Rynn's heart plummeted past despair, past terror, straight into the abyss.
'Oh god. I'm gonna die again.'
'THINK RYNN THINK! YOU NEED TO SURVIVE DAMN IT!'
His mind was a blender of panic and nonsense. His pulse hammered so loud it drowned out everything else. Two giants blocked the hall, muscles like boulders, hands like meat cleavers, and grins that promised a slow, creative death.
Run?
Against men who looked like they jogged while carrying oxen for fun?
Impossible.
Fight?
Against two walls with legs?
He'd have better luck punching a mountain into submission.
At this point even fainting from fear sounded like a reasonable strategy.
But then,
Something sparked. A terrible idea. A stupid idea.
Possibly the worst idea he'd ever had.
But… an idea.
His breath steadied. Just a little.
'O-Okay. Okay. What's something that I regularly do back then? Roleplay! Yes, if I use all my accumulated experience being a mysterious master I can probably bluff them right?.. r-right?'
Holy cope.
He straightened his spine.
Boss and Ronnie paused mid-step, watching.
Rynn raised his hand dramatically, palm facing the ceiling as if summoning cosmic power. His voice dropped an octave—unnaturally deep, overly theatrical.
"Hoh? You insects dare approach me?"
Boss blinked.
Rynn continued, sweeping his arm in a grand arc like an anime villain in rehearsal.
"To defy me—the great—uh—Shadow Sover—Sovereign of the Abyssal… Realm… You are courting DEATH!"
His voice cracked twice.
Ronnie squinted. "Boss… what is he doing?"
Boss muttered, "I think… he's having a stroke?"
Rynn pressed on, fully committed now that he'd crossed the line of no return. He pointed at them dramatically.
"Kneel, mortals! For your souls tremble before my forbidden—dark—uh-FLAME—DESTRUCTION ARTS!"
He thrust his hand forward as if about to unleash a catastrophic spell.
Nothing happened.
A pebble fell off the ceiling. That was the only effect.
Silence.
Long. Painful. Suffocating silence.
Boss and Ronnie stared at him blankly. No fear. No hesitation. Not even confusion. Just deadpan, exhausted disappointment, as if Rynn had personally offended them by wasting their time.
Ronnie rubbed his temples. "Boss… is this kid… stupid?"
Boss sighed. A deep, soul-weary sigh. "Ronnie, I think… he thinks he's scary."
Rynn held the pose.
Boss approached slowly and placed a massive hand on Rynn's shoulder.
"Kid… stop."
Rynn froze.
Boss nodded sympathetically. "Just… stop. It's embarrassing for all of us."
Then, with absolutely no hesitation, Boss chopped the side of Rynn's neck.
"Night-night."
Everything went black instantly.
As his consciousness faded, one final defeated thought floated up:
'…I died of cringe.'
Then—
Whoosh~