Lucian woke up in the same exact position again, and Drogas sitting in front of him, clueless, just like before.
But this time, it wasn't confusion that hit him first—it was dread.
Why? Why did they betray me...?
He looked at the familiar faces around him, the soldiers he thought he trusted, the ones he led, the ones he fought for.
But now there was doubt, creeping in like rot.
No. What if they're not even mine? What if they're not my soldiers at all...?
He remembered the Mushroom Town. They had all looked alike, quiet, helpful, even warm, and they had welcomed his army in without a single demand.
But now it clicked. They had numbers and they had time. They could've replaced them one by one.
Shit. They're not mine. They've been replaced... That's why no one moved. That's why they let me die.
So this time, when the soldier offered him the water again, Lucian didn't take it.
He didn't even speak. He just watched, watched everything like a cornered animal waiting for the trap to snap.
And it did.
Drogas took the bottle. He drank, smiled, talked casually... and then he began to choke. His body gave out fast—too fast—his knees hit the dirt, and his voice cracked as he begged, reaching for Lucian.
Lucian stepped forward, trying to grab him, trying to shake him, but Drogas was already going cold.
"No—no—come on—Drogas—!" he called out, but when he looked up, the others just stared again.
They're watching him die like he's nothing.
He backed away in panic, searching for any sign of help, but his chest tightened.
"Help him! Save him! Now!"
But as he stepped forward, something shifted on his right—too quick, too familiar—and before he could react, a blade tore through his side again, right between the ribs.
The pain knocked the air from his lungs, but worse than the pain was the realization.
He hit the ground, bleeding out for the second time, and his voice cracked as the tears came out louder than the words.
"WHY!? I SAVED YOU! I LED YOU! I FOUGHT FOR YOU! WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?!"
No one answered. No one helped. The trees just swayed above him as if the wind cared more than his men.
[Death Detected.]
[Death Count: 3]
[Loop Restarting…]
---
Lucian woke in the same damn spot again, back against the same tree.
Drogas was sitting right there beside like nothing had happened. But now, it wasn't just fear digging into his gut—it was distrust. Deep, violent distrust that made his skin crawl.
Why didn't Veyra help Drogas? She just stood there. Was she turned too...? No, she was with me all night. She couldn't have vanished without me noticing—unless... unless they did something while we slept.
His hands trembled slightly as he held his head. The loops were closing in now.
Three down, two left. Only three more after this before he was punished—or worse. He couldn't afford another blind attempt. He needed answers, not survival.
So he stood up fast—too fast—and turned to all of them.
"They're going to kill me!" he shouted.
"I don't know who, I don't know when, but it's one of you! Maybe more! Someone poisoned us before, someone stabbed me twice already, and it's going to happen again unless you drop your weapons right now!"
Some of the soldiers froze, and others just blinked, confused.
Veyra narrowed her eyes. She didn't look surprised. That scared him more than anything.
"I'm not joking! You all think I'm crazy? You're standing in the middle of traitors and you're just qui—!"
But before he could even turn fully, a sharp heat exploded through his lower back.
His whole body arched forward, breath stolen as he gasped.
No—
He turned halfway, just enough to see Drogas pull the blade out with a blank stare.
"Drogas... you...?" Lucian choked out.
"Why!?" he screamed, stumbling forward.
"Why are you with them!? What did I do to you!? I saved your family! I let you in! Are you a shapeshifter?! ARE YOU EVEN REAL?!"
He fell again, same dirt, same leaves, but the confusion was worse now.
No one moved. Not even Veyra. His army just stared, like statues in a nightmare.
This is wrong. All of this is wrong. I can't trust anyone. I don't even know who they are anymore.
His hands shook as he gripped the dirt, and this time, he didn't cry. He just breathed. Heavy, uneven, and furious.
[Death Detected.]
[Death Count: 4]
[Loop Restarting…]
It was his fourth death.
And this time—this time he didn't even breathe. He didn't speak. He didn't move recklessly. He didn't even look at anyone for more than a second.
Because he didn't know who was with him anymore.
I don't know who's real... I don't know who's mine.
He stood quietly.
Surrounded by people he once trusted, people he fought beside, and people who used to smile when they saw him.
Now they just watched.
He had to leave. He had to get away fast before something happened again.
So he faked it.
"I'll be right back," he said. "I need to take a piss in the woods."
They nodded. Veyra gave a slight smirk.
Is that the real her...? Or just a mask again...?
He walked into the trees slowly, step by step. And his heart was hammering, because this was the moment. Every time he turned his back, someone came.
But maybe this time—just maybe—he could—
SHINK!
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
A blade drove straight into his lower back.
His knees hit the ground before he even screamed.
"WHAT IS HAPPENING!?" he roared, twisting around. "WHY!?"
But no one answered.
He looked up—and it wasn't Veyra. It wasn't Drogas. It wasn't even someone he recognized.
It was one of the soldiers who trained under him, who bowed every morning, who drank his wine with gratitude.
And now?
Now he was holding a bloodied blade and walking away without saying a word.
Lucian screamed, not just in pain, but in raw, trembling confusion.
"WHY ARE YOU AGAINST ME!?! WHAT DID I DO!?"
He hit the ground again. Hands shaking. Blood flooding through the moss. Body twitching.
"I HELPED YOU BECOME STRONGER!! I TRAINED YOU!! I FED YOU!! I FOUGHT FOR YOU!! I LED YOU HERE!!"
He dragged himself forward—but no one came.
Not even to finish him off.
They just let him die alone.
[Death Detected.]
[Death Count: 5]
[Loop Restarting...]
---
It was his last chance.
If he died now, if he failed here, the quest would shatter and his life would collapse into another one, far from this, and he'd lose every bond, every face, every ounce of trust he earned.
All progress gone—just like that. The thought alone made his heart scream.
So the moment he returned to that same cursed place, he didn't wait, didn't breathe, didn't even try to think.
He just ran. He ran hard through the fog, through the dirt, through the blinding green of the mushroom trees and the heartbeat pounding inside his head.
I can't die. I can't die again. I won't.
Then, footsteps. Light footsteps but fast.
He turned once and saw her—Veyra. And her eyes weren't just focused. They were determined.
"Why are you chasing me!?" he shouted, stumbling.
She didn't answer.
"Veyra, stop! Why!? WHY!?"
She kept running.
"You're one of them now!? I trusted you! I—DON'T DO THIS!"
But her sprint turned into a leap, and then—
"AGHHHHHHH!!!"
The blade punctured his side again. She stabbed him—clean and deep—and pulled the weapon back like it meant nothing, like he was nothing.
His legs collapsed and his vision twisted. The warmth of blood was rushing too fast now, soaking everything.
He crawled. He clawed at the dirt.
Please stop… someone stop this.
But she just walked.
Then, as he leaned against the base of a giant tree, lungs wheezing, ribs screaming, he looked up—and she was right there again.
The same face, but something was different.
"Veyra...!!!!" he shouted, voice cracked. "COME BACK!! PLEASE!!"
Her eyes flickered.
And suddenly—like someone had shattered a glass cage—she dropped her blade.
Her face shifted.
"M-Master?" she said. "Are you alright? You're bleeding—who hurt you?"
Lucian's eyes narrowed, and tears built up before he could stop them.
You... you're the one that hurt me.
But he didn't say that.
Instead, he reached for her hand—bloodied and trembling—and held it tightly.
"Veyra…" he said, "how much pain do you carry right now?"
She blinked, confused. "What...?"
"Take as much sand as you need from the ground," he said, barely breathing, "...as much as your pain weighs."
Veyra hesitated, but then knelt, grabbed both hands into the dirt, and picked up a massive handful of sand, so much it spilled out between her fingers.
"I'm sad that you're hurt, Master," she whispered. "And I'm scared… I don't understand what's happening… I feel like something inside me broke, and I can't fix it…"
Lucian smiled faintly, tears streaking down his bloody cheeks.
"Don't worry… Veyra…"
He cupped his hands over hers, letting the sand fall between their palms.
"I'll carry all of it."
She froze.
"All of the pain you'll have right now... won't exist. You won't remember this. Not the blade, not the hurt, not the screams. I'll carry it instead."
Her eyes shook.
Lucian kept going, even as his voice failed him. "I'll carry everyone's pain. All of it. And I'll save everyone... at the end... even if it kills me."
Then—
[Death Detected.]
[Death Count: 6]
[Quest Failed]
[You Will Be Transmigrated To Another Body]
He collapsed against her, and this time, she held him tight.