Alista's immediate focus upon entering the silent, eerie temple was not the looming bell but the strange, broken floor. He began a thorough search of the structure. The absence of devotional objects was the first anomaly: no statue of a god, no traditional altar. Instead, the space was dominated by the immense, cold throne.
He quickly discovered the unusual floor pattern: a set of three concentric rings, etched into the stone, each containing a circle inside the last. The innermost circle was fractured, its pieces scattered like shrapnel.
'It seems these might be an Altar after all,' Alista hypothesized, his academic side overriding his soldier persona for a moment. He began the meticulous, time-consuming process of piecing the broken stones back together. His fingers traced the jagged edges, fitting each fragment into its neighbor until the inner circle was whole again.
The completed circle revealed a strange, incomplete symbol: a complex, multi-knotted design that looked vaguely like an infinity.
"Nope, not an Altar," Alista muttered, a frown creasing his brow. "But what is this symbol? I don't recall seeing anything like this." He pondered the intricate knots for a moment, the design triggering a faint sense of déjà vu that he couldn't quite place.
After realizing that esoteric knowledge wouldn't save him, Alista's focus snapped back to immediate survival. He began setting his trap. Using the remaining spoils of war—the wire, sharpened spears, poisons, and anything flammable—he meticulously planned a lethal maze. His design was sophisticated, intended to lure the agile, human-sized threat of Orphine, the Hunter, into a deadly web where her speed would become a liability.
With the traps carefully set and concealed, Alista positioned himself at the temple's entrance, acting as a deliberate and enticing bait. He waited, every sense acutely tuned to the unnatural silence of the forest.
The stillness shattered without warning. The ground began to tremble, the reverberations deep and guttural, shaking the very foundations of the ancient temple.
The sight that appeared was staggering, ripping his intricate plans to shreds. A huge fire giant—a colossal being wreathed entirely in raw fire, complete with burning horns—stormed out of the woods. The whole creature was an embodiment of inferno, a roaring, primitive force.
"Why do I have to fight a damn Hellboy?" Alista groaned, his entire trap strategy instantly obsolete. He had planned for a scalpel, and fate had delivered a sledgehammer.
He immediately turned and ran inside the temple, his retreat a lure designed to draw the giant into the narrow pathways he had established. The flame giant, a mindless engine of destruction, roared and stormed in after him. Alista sprinted through his own maze, desperately guiding the blazing creature toward the meager obstacles. He had set these snares for a subtle, agile slayer—not for a colossal, walking inferno.
Despite the profound mismatch, the giant stepped heavily onto one of his poisoned triggers. The poison arrows launched, piercing its thick, fiery hide. The effect was subtle but crucial: the giant began to slow down, its massive steps losing their terrifying momentum. The toxins were compounding, disrupting the flow of fire that animated its core.
Alista snatched up his salvaged sword and began to fight, weaving around the giant's lumbering, fiery swings. As the crude traps and poisons slowly started to take their inevitable toll, Alista's [Battle Analyzer] worked frantically, spotting the loopholes he could exploit in the giant's predictable, mindless attack patterns.
"I need to finish this fight as soon as possible," he grunted, the heat of the monster radiating off him in waves.
Finally, weakened and hampered by the toxins, the massive giant fell to its knees, its internal fire flickering dangerously low. Alista raised his sword, intending to plunge it into the giant's vulnerable core—the finishing blow that would earn him a reprieve.
But before the final strike could land, a sharp, white-hot pain erupted in his back. An arrow, fired with chilling precision, had pierced him, driving straight through his heart.
Alista tried to turn, his vision blurring, his focus failing. He saw the Slayer—Orphine—standing to the side, her bow lowered, coolly waiting for his demise. He crumpled to the floor, bleeding out onto the cold stone.
"How… did… you… get… here?" he choked out, the words ragged whispers.
Orphine stepped closer, her expression a mask of cold contempt. "You don't need to know, imbecile."
The darkness claimed him, a deep, silent void.
**********
Alista Tudor suddenly woke up with a dizzying lurch.
He was standing inside the temple, his surroundings exactly as they had been moments before the giant arrived. He was near the repaired inner ring.
He immediately checked his chest—the searing pain was gone, no wound remained. He scanned the temple. None of the traps he had set existed. His first death was a clean slate, except for the memory.
"There is no chance of dreaming," Alista stated, his voice low and shaken. "That means I am stuck in a loop? But how? What made it start?"
His gaze fell on the strange, repaired symbol on the floor.
"It seems I've got a similar situation to the Windflower Island in the Tomb of Ariel," Alista concluded, referencing his knowledge of obscure lore. The symbol, the reset point—it all clicked. He quickly ran through the events of his brutal demise, his [Battle Analyzer] processing the failure.
He realized the truth: Orphne had slipped through the chaos, using the Flame Giant as a distraction, and killed him when his guard was down.
"That means she must have either come with the giant or, using her dormant ability, she might have sent the giant to act as a bait," he speculated. He chastised his own expectation. "Why did I expect her to fight head-on? She is a Hunter after all; the direct approach is for fools."
His determination solidified. He moved to the entrance, his eyes hard. "I need to fight again, but this time, I need to set traps for the giant as well—something that will actually damage it, not just slow it down. And I need to watch out for Orphne at all times."
He looked down at the inner ring he had fixed, recognizing it as his escape clause and his prison. "There must be a place constraint here. I need to stay within this vicinity to trigger the loop's reset." He understood the mechanic: dying was irrelevant; failing to progress meant returning to this checkpoint.
Alista Tudor stretched his arm backward and cracked his neck, a grim resolve settling in his blue eyes. He was playing a new, darker game now—one where death was merely a temporary setback.
"Let's fight like Natsuki Subaru," he whispered, ready to embrace the knowledge of the failed future.
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