"...Ashes?"
Astaroth frowned, staring at the gray wisps swirling in the air.
Ashes. Not dust. And no fire had been used—so why?
"Where did this...?"
His words cut short as my fist crashed into his face from behind.
"Ugh!"
He stumbled, brain rattled from the blow.
"What...?"
Blood dripped from his nose as he glared at —disbelief painted all over his face.
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
He shouldn’t. I shouldn’t even be standing.
A hole the size of a lon had been blasted through my chest. Heart, lungs—obliterated.
But now... it was gone. Like it never existed.
"Hah," he laughed, low and stunned.
"A power that can heal a wound like that instantly, even with the heart and lungs ripped out..."
His eyes narrowed.
"A blessing."
Yeah. That’s what he was thinking.
A blessing from the gods—sothing heroes were supposed to have. Not cadets. Not soone like .
"So, you had more than one trick up your sleeve," he muttered. "That blue liquid... and now a blessing. Not the kind of twist I was hoping for."
He tried to bait . "Ah, could you at least tell the na of the blessing? I’ve never seen one that can heal sothing that fatal."
"You sure talk a lot," I spat.
I stomped forward, sword in hand. I didn’t have ti for his gas.
Three minutes.
Three minutes left until the Stigma amplifier ran out.
Once it did—this fight was over. And not in my favor.
I pooled every drop of amplified mana into the edge of my sword.
It humd. Pulled in the light. The blade turned pitch black.
Sun Sword.
Fifth Form: Black Spot.
Less range than the higher forms, but stronger. Focused. Deadly.
I roared and slashed.
The sword flew, a black streak of condensed death hurtling toward him.
"Khh!"
Astaroth scrambled, conjuring a violet barrier of demonic energy.
But—
Krrrrk! Crack!
My blade tore through the barrier like paper. Straight for his heart—
Or so I thought.
"Hah. That was close."
His chest shimred, warping like a mirage. The blow missed its mark.
"Honestly... it’s amazing," he said, admiration twisted with scorn. "How can you penetrate my barrier with that little mana?"
He was right. Even after drinking that cursed elixir, my mana wasn’t impressive—two, maybe three tis that of a regular candidate. Not enough.
Not yet.
"But, well..." he said, relaxing, "that’s not sothing I need to worry about right now."
His eyes flicked to Iris.
His real goal.
"Oh, and by the way," he added with a grin. "You’re not the only one with tricks."
His Stigma flared.
Veins, black and bulbous, surged across his upper body like roots. Violet energy spread like a disease, corrupting everything it touched.
The space itself warped—like heat off stone.
"The Blessing of Distortion," he said, smiling as the air twisted around him.
"Given to by the Demon God."
A space-warping curse of a blessing.
He spread his arms, looking at like I was so trivial test.
"Let’s see whose blessing the gods favor more—yours... or mine."
Snap.
The warped space lunged toward .
Crack! Crunch!
I didn’t even have ti to scream.
My limbs bent the wrong way.
My skull caved in.
My insides spilled out through shattered ribs.
"Kyaaaah! Dale, no!" Iris’s voice pierced the chaos.
I died.
I know I did.
My body—just a heap of flesh—hit the ground, twitching like a puppet with cut strings.
"Let’s see you co back from that," Astaroth muttered.
He turned his back.
Smug bastard.
Swish!
Ashes swirled. My blade slashed at him.
His eyes went wide. "What...!"
"Do you have so kind of blessing of immortality?" he demanded.
I gritted my teeth. "Who knows."
Technically, it was the Blessing of Revival. But immortality? Close enough.
"Ridiculous," he muttered, shaking his head.
Still trying to make sense of it.
He raised his hand. Smirked.
"Just because you can’t die... doesn’t an you can beat ."
Crack!
The space warped again. My body split in two—top from bottom.
"Khhh!"
It hurt. God, it hurt. But I revived.
Every ti.
And each ti, the agony compounded.
"How many tis can you co back, I wonder?"
Snap.
My body shattered again.
"Damn it...!" I hissed, trying to move.
Dodging in this warped hell? Impossible.
Still—I lunged, swinging my sword.
Clang!
It bounced off his demonic shield.
The Stigma amplifier was gone.
I felt it—the power draining from . Mana cooling like extinguished coals.
’It’s over,’ I thought.
Crack. Snap. Crunch.
He kept breaking .
Shattering .
Again and again.
I died. Revived. Died. Revived.
The pain... it burned through my mind.
And then—mories. My old life.
The life where I was powerless.
Where I could do nothing.
’It was always like this.’
People thought this blessing made invincible. But they didn’t understand.
’Even if an ant is immortal, it’s still just an ant.’
Pain doesn’t stop just because death does.
"Ha, haha! Amazing!" Astaroth laughed, stomping on the ground. "Over a hundred tis, and you still regenerate!"
He sounded delighted.
A purple whirlwind exploded and shredded again.
Ashes. Heart. Regeneration.
Rinse. Repeat.
"Ha, what is this...?" he muttered now. Disgust crept into his voice.
But before he could finish again—
"Stop! Stop it already!"
Iris stepped in.
Her body blocked his path—mine.
"That’s enough," she said. "Haven’t you done enough already?"
"Hm. But Dale’s life hasn’t ended yet, has it?"
"Was your goal to kill Dale?"
"...Well..."
He hesitated.
Clicked his tongue.
"I wanted to test how far the blessing could last. But I suppose... that’ll have to wait."
He turned to her.
No.
"Stop... Still..."
I tried to stand. I stumbled. Fell again.
Mana gone. Muscles torn.
I couldn’t even walk straight.
"Damn it."
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
I’d co back to the past to change things.
To be different.
And yet—I was still powerless.
Still just a pebble at the river’s edge.
My legs were crushed. My will in tatters.
’This ti too... again...’
I was going to lose everything.
Again.
Just like before.
"Dale..."
Her voice.
Iris looked back at and smiled gently.
"...Thank goodness."
Like she had no regrets.
Like it was all okay.
My mind—blank.
’Thank goodness?’
For what?
She was about to lose her life. Her eyes.
If I hadn’t stepped in—she might’ve only lost her sight.
But now—
Because of ...
She was going to die.
And still—
She said she was thankful?
I couldn’t understand.
Why didn’t she run in our past life?
Why was she standing here now?
Why block ?
Why—?
’Why, why, why, why...?’
Why could she smile at the end?
"Ugh, ugh..."
I rose again.
No mana.
No strength.
My mind—a ragged thread about to snap.
Even breathing hurt.
Still—
"Thank goodness... you say?"
I stood.
Trembling legs planted firmly.
Hands shaking as they gripped my sword.
"Who are you to say... it’s thankful?"
I’d never understand her reason.
But one thing was clear:
’Iris saved my life.’
One life.
One pebble.
She gave hers to protect it.
So now—
Fwoosh!
Flas erupted from the Stigma on my chest.
Mana flared—alive again.
"Now it’s my turn."
BOOM.
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