He was back again, right at the moment when the bandits appeared over the hill, and this time, he only had four deaths left to save everyone. I can't waste a single one... not now, not ever...
Lucian sprinted harder than before, his katana ready, heart pounding as he dashed toward the village.
But then, horror struck—he saw the village in ruins, bodies everywhere, smoke rising like a dark cloud. His eyes caught the lifeless forms of his sister Clara and his mother.
No... no, this can't be happening again... I'm too late... I wasn't fast enough...
"ARGHH! I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU!" he screamed, gripping the katana tighter than ever.
With a fierce swing, the katana cut through the air, and a powerful gust of wind blasted forward, knocking down nearly all the bandits in front of him.
The raw force of his strike scattered their bodies across the ground.
But before he could celebrate, a sharp pain stabbed through his ribs—a blade plunged deep inside him.
Am I going to die again?
He collapsed, chest heaving, blood soaking his shirt, and then he forced his eyes open one last time. But this time, the system did not ping.
From behind him, a cruel voice rang out. "Let's make this kid a slave! He'll work for us! And get that katana—it's damn strong!"
No... I won't be someone's slave... not after all this...
---
Lucian stared blankly at the damp ceiling of the cave.
Cold droplets fell every few minutes, tapping against the hard stone near his head. His body ached.
His ribs were still sore, even if the wound had vanished in this new life. He had been forced to keep his eyes open, to stay alive, and to keep suffering.
He was now in a cage—no, worse than that. He was a slave.
His hands were tied behind his back, and his legs were chained to the wall.
The stench of the place clung to everything. All around him were children, some human, some elven, a few beastkin.
Their eyes were hollow, their faces sunken.
The bandits had turned them all into animals, locking them up and using them like they were tools.
Lucian had barely spoken these past few days. I just need one chance. Just one death.
He couldn't even die on his own. His arms were too tightly bound. He couldn't slam his head on the rocks without being spotted.
Every moment was spent pretending to be weaker than he was, hoping they'd slip up.
And then, one evening, the bandit leader entered the cave.
Lucian looked up. It was that bastard again—the one with the jagged scar on his face. His name was Drogas. His beard was tangled, and his hands were trembling.
Lucian narrowed his eyes. "Back again, huh? Come to cry like the pathetic animal you are?"
Drogas flinched. He grabbed the bars, knuckles turning white. "Don't talk to me like that, brat," he hissed. "You don't know what I lost."
Lucian spat blood to the side. "Oh yeah? What'd you lose? Your brain? Your balls? Or just whatever ounce of soul you had left?"
Drogas slammed his fist into the bars. "My son and wife were murdered by a noble's men, you piece of shit! You think I became like this for fun? You think I wanted to be a monster?"
Lucian didn't stop. His voice was low but steady. "They probably died hating you. And if they saw what you've done—what you've become—they'd wish they'd never known your name."
The bandit's face twisted. His eyes burned. "My son, Elias, and my wife, Mirra, they were all I had!"
"Then you should've died with them," Lucian growled.
With a scream, Drogas stabbed his blade through the bars.
The iron pierced Lucian's chest, slipping right between his ribs. Blood rushed out as Lucian gasped—but he smiled.
Finally.
[Death Detected.]
[Death Count: 2]
[Loop Restarting...]
Lucian stood on the snowy hill again, the cold wind brushing against his skin as he helped Ellowynne herd the goats down the slope.
She grumbled about the stubborn ones and kicked at the frozen ground, but Lucian didn't mind.
His hands were numb, his boots were soaked, and his body still remembered the sting of iron slicing into his ribs—but now, it all made sense.
So this is how the checkpoints work...
He remembered it clearly now. The reason he had been trapped in that awful prison last time, suffering for days, was because he had slept. That was it.
That was the checkpoint. It triggered the system to save his position.
So I just have to be careful. Don't sleep or rest. Or, well, I'm not sure if it's the truth...
This time, he wasn't going to let anyone die. Not Clara, not his mother, not even the other villagers.
And not Drogas.
He ran.
He knew where they would strike. He knew the exact path they would take, who they would kill first, and how it would end.
But not this time.
A little girl, no older than six, had just stepped out of her cabin. She was the first victim. He ran to her and grabbed her arm.
"Get inside, now!"
Then, he stood between the girl and the charging bandits. He took a deep breath. He tightened his grip on his katana.
"Drogas!!" Lucian shouted from across the field.
The bandits halted for a second. Drogas, sitting on a stolen horse, looked down at him from the hill. "Who the hell are you?!"
"I know your son's name, Elias, and your wife, Mirra. I know they were taken by nobles. And I know if you attack this village, they'll die!"
Drogas froze.
The other bandits looked at each other, confused. "What's he talkin' about?" one of them muttered.
Lucian stepped forward, not shaking, not flinching. "If you burn this village, the route you take will be seen by the patrol scouts. You'll be hunted. And they'll kill them both. You'll never see Elias again."
Drogas' eyes widened. "How... How do you know that!? How the hell do you know they were captured!? I never told anyone! How do you know about Mirra!?"
"Because I'm telling you the truth," Lucian said. "Because I've seen it all happen. And I'm giving you a chance to stop it."
There was silence. Just the crunch of snow under boots.
Drogas dismounted slowly. His hands were shaking. He dropped his sword.
The rest of the bandits gasped. "Boss? What are you doing?"
"I..." Drogas looked at them, then at Lucian. "I can't risk losing them."
Lucian walked toward him, the girl now safe behind him. "You'll come with me. You'll help me take down the nobles. We'll free your family together. But if you touch one innocent life again, I'll end you myself."
Drogas nodded, tears in his eyes.
And just like that, the army of bandits stood still. Confused, but no longer attacking.
Lucian exhaled, a long breath he didn't know he was holding.
All those loops. All those deaths. They were worth it.
---
Lucian stood in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection.
The face looking back at him still felt unfamiliar—white, pale skin, black hair that fell over green eyes.
I have to save everyone. No matter what. I can't fail again.
Next to him, Drogas leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
His big frame filled the room, and even though his face was weathered and rough, there was something softer in his eyes now.
He had changed.
Drogas had gathered 200 of his most loyal men. They were scattered across the outer hills, and their hideout was filled with supplies, blades, and five feral mounts—Ravogons, large wolf-like creatures with armored fur and bone-tipped tails.
They could run fast and strike like spears, and Lucian knew he'd need them.
He looked to the side, at the wooden wall beside his bed. There, carved in with a knife, were the numbers that haunted his mind:
11 months left.
That's all the time I have before Guinevere is tortured.
He traced his finger across the numbers.
And to stop it, I'll need more than luck. I'll need an army.
Then, he heard soft footsteps behind him. He turned. A girl stood in the doorway.
She had a slender build, long dark blue hair tied into a short braid, and sharp grey eyes that didn't flinch.
She wore black leather armor and a blade strapped across her back.
"You're here, Master..." she said, bowing her head slightly.
Lucian nodded. "You're earlier than I thought."
Earlier, during the reward screen, he had chosen the harem option.
Not for lust and not for pleasure.
He didn't have time for that. He needed generals—women with power, skill, and loyalty. But I can't form deeper bonds with any of them until I get my class.
The system wouldn't allow him to level or deepen relationships without a class. And until then, he was just a strategist with a legendary blade and a goal hanging over his soul.
The system interface opened beside her:
---
[Name:] Veyra
[Age:] 20
[Class:] Silent Blade – Assassin Variant
[Abilities:] Shadow Step | Blade Recall | Kill Mark
[Likes:] Hot springs, perfect silence, spicy soup
[Dislikes:] Betrayal, broken promises, loud chewing
[Loyalty Modifier:] Obedience + Purpose = Loyalty Growth
[Bond Status:] Unlocked – First Companion Registered
[Quality of Life Features:]
Combat Sync: Enabled
Inventory Access: Shared
Safe Zone Alert: Enabled
Title Interface: Locked
---
Lucian closed the interface and looked her in the eyes.
"I need you to lead the bandits."
She blinked. "You trust me to command that many?"
"I trust people who don't waste words," he said, walking past her. "You'll answer directly to Drogas. Use the Ravogons for patrols and keep the men in line. If they disobey, kill the leaders. The rest will follow."
She didn't hesitate. "Understood."
He turned toward the wall again, looking at the numbers.
Eleven months. That's all I've got. I have to build the force. I have to take down the nobles. I have to save Guinevere. And I have to make sure I don't die in the process.
"I'm putting everything on the line," he muttered under his breath.