Auren stood for a few moments, just staring at the empty metallic shell that, only seconds ago, had nearly obliterated him. To say nearly felt like an insult to the truth—it had succeeded in every brutal sense of the word.
Each death still echoed like a twisted memory, and what unsettled him most was that he'd lost count. The number no longer mattered. He'd died—again and again—and rose each time.
If there was anything the battle had given him, it was this: confidence. Auren had gained the unsettling assurance to face death head-on. The more he died and came back, the more dying began to feel... normal.
It was a strange comfort. A creeping realization that, maybe—just maybe—death wasn't an enemy. Maybe it was his ally. Maybe it was his power.
But even as that thought settled in, another stirred from the shadows of his mind. What if it was all a lie? A trick? A cruel ruse that had a limit?
What if one day, he wouldn't return?
