Julius woke early, even before the bell at the barracks rang. The eastern gate looked the same—the dusty road stretching into the horizon, the same merchants setting up their carts—but nothing felt the same to him.
He had survived yesterday. More than that, he had remembered. Every strike, every mistake, every death—like a loop now stored in his mind. And the strange, insistent voice in the back of his head whispered possibilities he had never considered.
What if I could predict them?
Bram arrived with his usual slow, creaking steps, yawning loudly. "You're up early. Trying to impress the sunrise or just hoping the gates close themselves?"
Julius shook his head. "I… I need to try something. Alone."
Bram grunted. "Suit yourself. Don't break anything. The city doesn't like paying for repairs."
Once Bram was distracted, Julius moved to the gate. He didn't check the road for approaching travelers—he knew the patterns now. The wagons, the horses, even the adventurers—they all moved with predictable rhythm. He had seen it all. Hundreds of loops in his mind, each one marked with the exact motions, mistakes, and timing.
Julius picked up a pebble from the ground. Tiny, harmless, nothing more than a stone. He held it in his hand and remembered the way a player had tripped over it once, losing balance for a split second.
He tossed it gently, watching it roll toward an approaching cart. The horse stumbled slightly. The driver cursed, but the cart stayed upright.
Yes… I can influence them.
Julius's heart raced. Every movement, every object, every detail could be used—not just to survive, but to control outcomes.
He experimented further. A loose board in the fence? He nudged it slightly. A traveling merchant's bag? Adjusted just enough to spill a few coins onto the ground. Small, insignificant things—but they caused reactions. Reactions he could predict.
Hours passed. Merchants came, travelers passed, and adventurers lurked in the distance, observing. Julius barely noticed them. He was testing, learning, growing.
Then came the real test.
The same quintet of adventurers appeared again. Their armor gleamed, their eyes sharp, scanning. They hadn't forgotten him—or perhaps they remembered the unusual skill he had shown.
The boy with the crooked sword stepped forward, smirking. "Guard," he said casually. "Back for more"
Julius didn't answer. He simply moved slightly to the side, shifting his weight, adjusting his grip on the spear. And then, almost unconsciously, he guided the pebble he had hidden in the dirt just right under the adventurer's foot.
The boy stumbled, barely catching himself. A split second was all Julius needed. He nudged his spear forward, not to strike, but to guide. The sword's next swing clanged harmlessly against the spear and spun the adventurer off balance.
The other four exchanged worried glances. "He's… he's thinking ahead," one muttered.
Julius felt a rush—like a spark igniting something deep inside him. The memories of his deaths weren't just reminders of pain. They were tools. Patterns he could recognize, manipulate, and eventually control.
Bram's voice called faintly from the barracks. "Everything okay down there?"
"Yes,everything is fine" Julius said quietly, though his voice barely carried. He knew this was only the beginning.
For the first time, he allowed himself a small, cold thought: I won't just survive next time. I'll shape what happens. I'll win.
And somewhere deep in the back of his mind, that strange, insistent whisper returned, sharper than ever:
Good. Now start learning. They are your teachers… and your prey.