Steel clashed through the canyon, echoing off the jagged cliffs as Lirion struggled to keep his footing. Dust and blood blurred his vision, but he pressed on despite his exhaustion.
His towering, black-armored opponent moved with deadly precision, each swing heavy with lethal intent as he advanced. Lirion parried desperately, the sound of clashing metal mingling with the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat.
He had faced death four times before, but this time felt different. The memories of past falls, failures, and endless repetitions weighed on him like chains, hindering his progress.
Even as he fought, he knew that this was not merely a battle but another cycle of the sentence forced upon him. Each fight, each fall, and each life ended was part of the inescapable punishment for what he once was, a god who judged and destroyed recklessly.
An unexpected swing of his opponent's blade caught Lirion off guard, and he stumbled and crashed against the jagged rocks below. Pain tore through his ribs and arms, leaving him gasping for breath.
He tried to rise, summon strength, and call forth some fragment of power from his past divinity. But there was nothing. His mortal body could not withstand this blow.
Above him, his adversary's shadow loomed, sword poised for the final strike. The world narrowed to a single point, the inevitability of death.
Then, darkness fell.
Not the black of night or the shadowed corners of a canyon, but true nothingness. Absolute, infinite, complete.
Lirion's senses struggled to reassert themselves. There was no ground beneath him, no air to fill his lungs, no weight to anchor his body. He was suspended in a void that defied all understanding.
Panic rose within him. He tried to move, to resist, to call upon whatever power he still possessed. Everything failed.
He could only stare into the endless void and whisper to himself.
"Fifth."
His voice sounded strange and foreign in the silence.
"Fifth time."
The recognition of repetition settled over him like a heavy shroud. The weight of every past failure pressed in from all sides. The void remained indifferent.
The emptiness shifted.
A subtle distortion rippled through nothingness, acknowledging his awareness. A figure began to emerge, not from the void, but within it.
It was immense, silent, impossibly vast.
Elydrion.
The god who cast him down. The god who stripped him of divinity. The god who sentenced him to this endless cycle.
Lirion felt the presence before he fully perceived the form. A weight of eternity pressed against his mind, a gaze measuring every arrogance, every failure, every flaw.
"You again," Lirion said. His voice was hollow, rough with bitterness. "Fifth. Do I even count anymore?"
Elydrion shifted, barely.
"You count," the god said. The voice echoed without sound. "Every life. Every fall. You live. You die. You witness. You endure."
Lirion swallowed. The repetition crushed his chest.
"I endure," he said. "But what good is endurance when everything I touch disappears? Every world. Every life. Every bond. Gone. What lesson is there in endless loss?"
Elydrion remained calm and unyielding.
"It is not for you to judge," the god said. "You are not meant to understand. You are meant to experience. To live among mortals. To care. To witness the fragility of what you once held in contempt."
"You will not find absolution. You will not find release. Only the weight of living and knowing that loss is inevitable."
Lirion clenched his fists. Frustration boiled within him. He wanted to shout, to strike, to demand justice or mercy.
It was pointless.
That futility was familiar.
Elydrion's presence was not for bargaining or defeat. It was a reminder of the sentence.
The void stretched on, silent and eternal. Lirion sank to his knees, tasting the punishment that would define countless lifetimes.
Silence pressed between them, heavier than any battlefield. Memories flooded his mind, faces he had known, worlds he had shaped and destroyed.
Elydrion remained still, patient, immovable, the axis around which the cosmos turned.
"You think you understand loss," Elydrion said at last. "But you have only observed it. Now, you will experience it. Not as a god. Not as a judge. As a man."
"You will learn its weight."
Lirion ground his teeth.
"What if I refuse?" he asked. "If I refuse to care? Do I die again? Do I start over? What's the point if I can't change the outcome?"
Elydrion's form shimmered slightly.
"You will endure," the god said. "Your refusal changes nothing. You cannot cheat the sentence. You cannot bargain. You can only live. Slowly. Painfully. Inevitably."
Lirion laughed, hollow and bitter.
"There is nothing to learn from losing everything," he said. "No victory. No redemption. Everything I touch dies."
Elydrion was silent.
The truth settled like frost. There was no comfort. No reprieve. This was not cruelty.
This was life.
"You speak as if this is cruel," Elydrion said. "It is consequence. You once wielded life and death recklessly. Now you will understand its fragility."
"You will endure not through power, but through living."
Lirion lowered his head. Resistance had long since carved its futility into his soul.
"Do not look to me for mercy," Elydrion said. "You will not find it. The next world awaits. There, you will act. You will decide. You will live among mortals."
"You will not control the outcome. But your choices will weigh upon you."
"Go, Lirion. Endure."
A pull tugged at his essence. The void folded and stretched, revealing a shimmering passage.
The next world waited.
Lirion inhaled, though there was no air. He closed his eyes. Elydrion's gaze lingered for a moment, then vanished.
Then, light came.
Light tore through the void, harsh and blinding. Lirion raised his arm as solid ground formed beneath his feet.
Air filled his lungs. Thick with the scent of flowers and earth. A cool breeze brushed his skin.
Life.
He took a step forward. The mortal body responded sluggishly, weighed down by limitation. Every muscle ached, every movement a reminder of what he had lost.
Strength. Divinity. Control.
Shadows moved within a dense forest. Birds called. Voices echoed faintly. An orchestra of life surrounded him.
"Another world," he muttered. "Another sentence."
Before him, a path wound through towering trees with obsidian-dark bark. Leaves shimmered in unfamiliar hues beneath a canopy that blocked the sky.
The sight stirred memories of worlds he had destroyed.
Redemption felt like a lie.
He was not here to redeem himself.
He was here to live.
Figures emerged from the undergrowth. Humanoid. Simply clothed. Children clung to their parents, eyes wide with fear.
A young man stepped forward, a bow slung over his shoulder.
"Who are you?" he asked.
Lirion studied him carefully.
"My name is Lirion," he said. "I come from far away."
The villagers exchanged uneasy glances. The weight of responsibility settled on him before he had taken his place.
It always did.
He stepped onto the path. The wind carried the scent of wildflowers and something dangerous. His hand brushed a sword that was not yet there.
For the first time in ages, he felt the pulse of mortal life.
Fragile. Temporary. Heavy.
He walked forward.
The world awaited him.