They executed me at dawn.
The sky was still gray, the kind of gray that made everything feel unfinished. Like the world itself wasn't fully awake yet, but it didn't matter.
They didn't wait for the sun to rise.
Dawn was for endings.
I stood on the wooden platform with my hands bound behind my back.
The ropes cut into my wrists, rough and damp from the morning fog. Every breath tasted like cold iron and wet wood.
The square was full.
Not packed. Not crowded. Just occupied.
People stood there because they were supposed to. Some because they were curious. Some because executions were entertainment when life got dull.
None of them looked at me for long.
I wasn't worth staring at.
A banner hung behind the platform, fluttering weakly in the wind. The city crest was stitched into the cloth. Gold thread, polished, important. Everything about it screamed authority.
Everything about me screamed the opposite.
A man in ceremonial armor read from a scroll. His voice was loud, practiced, and empty.
"Kael of the outer districts. No registered talent. No guild affiliation. No contributions of record. Accused of resource theft and social disruption."
Social disruption.
That was what they called existing without value.
I lifted my head slightly. Just enough to see the crowd beyond the platform. Faces blurred together. Nobles wrapped in warm cloaks. Merchants pretending to look solemn. Guards standing stiff, bored.
No one shouted. No one protested.
Why would they?
Above my vision, pale blue text hovered. Clear, sharp, merciless.
[Status Window]
Name: Kael
Level: 1
Talent: None
Class: None
Affiliation: None
Threat Rating: Negligible
I had seen this screen thousands of times.
Every day when I woke up. Every time I trained. Every time I checked, hoping something would change. Anything.
It never did.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Level 1?"
"At his age?"
"How did he even survive this long?"
I clenched my jaw.
I had survived because I refused to lie down and die.
Turns out, that only delayed things.
The executioner stepped forward.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black armor dulled by years of use. His sword was massive, the blade wide and heavy. This wasn't a weapon meant for elegance.
It was meant to end things.
He didn't look at me with hatred. That would've been easier to accept.
He looked at me the way someone looks at a broken tool.
Something that should have been discarded earlier.
"Any last words?" the official asked.
The question wasn't for me. It was for tradition.
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
My throat felt tight. Not from fear. From the weight of knowing that anything I said would vanish into the air, unheard and irrelevant.
What last words could matter when your entire life hadn't?
The executioner raised his sword.
The crowd leaned forward slightly.
I watched the blade rise. Watched the edge catch the weak light of the sky.
And for a brief, stupid moment, I thought it.
So this is it.
The sword came down.
[WARNING]
The world froze.
The blade stopped inches from my neck.
The executioner frowned. "What?"
A sharp metallic hum filled the air, vibrating through my skull. The sword trembled violently, like it had struck an invisible wall.
Above my vision, the blue text flickered.
[ERROR: EXECUTION FAILED]
The executioner stepped back, confused. He tightened his grip and swung again, harder this time.
The sword shattered.
Metal exploded outward, fragments clattering across the platform and bouncing off the stone below. Gasps erupted from the crowd. Someone screamed.
The executioner stared at the broken hilt in his hands.
"What the hell is this?" he muttered.
I couldn't breathe. My heart hammered so hard it felt like it might tear through my chest.
The text changed.
[CRITICAL SYSTEM ERROR DETECTED]
[SUBJECT STATUS: INCONSISTENT]
The air grew heavy.
Pressure pressed down on everything, like the world itself was leaning closer.
Guards raised their weapons. Mages in the crowd stiffened, eyes glowing faintly as they activated detection spells.
Nothing happened.
Then it appeared.
[ERROR: SUBJECT SHOULD HAVE DIED]
That line burned into my vision.
Should have.
The platform cracked beneath my feet.
Light erupted around me. Blinding, white-blue light that swallowed the square, the crowd, the sky.
The last thing I heard was someone shouting my name.
Then everything collapsed.
---
I woke up choking.
Cold stone scraped against my palms as I gasped for air. My lungs burned like I'd been underwater for too long. I rolled onto my side, coughing violently.
Chains rattled.
The sound snapped me fully awake.
I pushed myself up and froze.
A narrow stone cell. Damp walls. Rusted chains hanging from iron rings. A familiar smell of mold and old blood.
My cell. My old cell.
I stared at my hands.
Younger. Thinner. No scars from the years that came after.
My breath turned shallow.
"No," I whispered.
Above my vision appeared the same screen.
[Status Window]
Name: Kael
Level: 1
Talent: None
Class: None
Exactly the same. The same useless screen.
I slammed my fist into the wall. Pain shot up my arm, real and sharp.
"Then what changed?" I demanded.
The answer came immediately.
[NEW PASSIVE DETECTED]
[DEATH DENIAL: LOCKED]
A chill ran down my spine.
Text expanded beneath it.
Condition: Subject cannot die until Minimum Narrative Threshold is reached.
Cause: Death at Level 1 violates systemic progression probability.
Warning: World hostility increased.
I stared at the words.
Narrative threshold? Systemic probability?
None of it made sense, but the warning did.
The world was going to correct this mistake.
Me.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Multiple sets. Guards.
Earlier than last time. Faster. Closer.
The torchlight flickered through the bars of my cell.
And the System whispered one final line, quiet but absolute:
[SURVIVE THIS TIME]
The cell door began to open.