Ken walked slowly through the dusty streets of the town, still aching from his last death but determined not to try stealing bread again. The sun beat down, but his mind was elsewhere — focused on survival, on finding another way to live in this endless cycle.
The town was noisy as usual. Merchants shouted, children laughed, and animals scurried between stalls. Ken's eyes darted around, looking for anything useful — food, shelter, or even just a friendly face. But everyone kept their distance, as if he were invisible.
He wandered down a narrow street lined with broken carts and torn banners. The shadows grew longer here, and the air smelled of smoke and sweat.
Suddenly, three rough-looking men stepped out from an alley, blocking his path. Their clothes were ragged, faces hardened by years of hardship.
One stepped forward — tall, with a crooked scar across his cheek. He grinned, showing yellowed teeth.
"Hey, city ghost," he said, voice low and mocking. "What's a skinny runt like you doing here? Got any coin to spare?"
Ken frowned. "I don't have any money."
The scarred man's grin twisted. "Don't play dumb. Everyone's got something to give."
Another thug, shorter but bulky, pulled out a rusty knife from his belt. "How about you hand it over before things get ugly?"
Ken's heart raced, but his face stayed calm.
"I said I don't have money," he replied firmly. "If you want to fight, then come on."
The third thug laughed. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But you're dead meat."
Ken braced himself as they lunged forward.
The fight was brutal but short.
Ken dodged a swipe and managed to land a weak punch, but he was outnumbered. The second thug slashed his arm with the knife, burning pain searing through his skin.
He tried to back away, but the scarred leader grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against a wall.
"Not so tough now, huh?"
Ken struggled but couldn't break free.
The thugs stabbed him multiple times — ribs, shoulder, stomach — until he collapsed, vision blurring, blood pooling beneath him.
As darkness closed in, Ken's last thought was bitter and cold:
"Not again..."
Ken woke up shivering, eyes burning from the cold.
He was lying on snow, beneath a pale gray sky.
His breath formed white clouds.
Around him stretched a vast, frozen mountain range — harsh and silent.
The chill bit through his clothes, and the wind howled like a living thing.
He sat up slowly, chest aching from the wounds he knew were gone but still haunting his mind.
"I... I'm somewhere else."
The endless desert and town were gone.
Only this cold, silent wilderness remained.
Ken wrapped his arms around himself, shivering.
"Soul Reset…"
He glanced down at his hands — clean and uninjured.
"It brought me here."
"And I survived."
His eyes scanned the horizon — white peaks rising sharply against the bleak sky.
A narrow path wound ahead, disappearing into the icy mist.
Ken stood, steadied himself, and took the first step forward.
"If this is the next loop... then maybe... maybe it's a chance to start over."