I don't remember my real name.
I don't remember who I was, where I came from, or what I did before arriving here.
And that emptiness…
That hole in my identity…
It comes back to me every time I wake up in this world.
There is no sun here.
No moon either.
And gears hang in the sky, frozen in place, like a giant mechanical timer waiting for me to wake up.
Even in the darkness, I recognize it.
It's the same place I see every time I close my eyes.
The same dungeon that splits my soul between two worlds.
"Every time I fall asleep in the real world, I wake up in this snowy field."
I've counted two thousand one hundred and ninety-three nights.
Six years trapped in the same loop.
"And when I die in this fake world, I return to the last place where I fell asleep."
It feels like someone is always watching me.
Testing me.
Waiting for me to fail again.
"How much of me is still left…?"
The question hangs there, trapped in silence.
For a few seconds, I see myself inside a room.
I notice the shape of someone sitting beside me…
"You're close to making it…"
I hear their distant voice.
A warm presence that always breaks apart before I can remember it.
Then I blink—and I'm back here.
I struggle to stand up, even though my legs feel fused to the snow.
When I finally do, I see the remains of other versions of myself.
A statue pierced through the torso by a spear.
A silent reminder of a past death.
I don't know which one.
Maybe death number forty…
Or seven hundred and thirty-two.
Or one of the very first.
This snowy field keeps the leftovers of my failed attempts.
Each statue proves that this world remembers every time I've died.
Every attempt where I failed.
To my right, I see another patch of disturbed snow.
I vaguely remember a shadow dragging my legs while I tried to hold on that time.
I don't know when it happened.
I only know the pain comes back every time I stop to look.
My fingers tremble.
My body remembers.
But the darkness turns the gears, and the light warns me: another death is probably beginning.
I can't stay still any longer.
A few meters away, five shadows watch me in silence.
They wait for me to move, like predators stalking prey.
They are the same fragments that have devoured me every time I woke up here.
I never understood why.
I don't know their purpose.
But when they appear, the same message always comes from the horizon:
[Take the weapons. Defeat the shadows or your life will be consumed.]
A sigh escapes my lips.
"…It didn't work the other two thousand times."
The moment those words echo, my instinct takes over.
There's no room to run.
No time to question the command.
Not in a world where every second decides my end.
The lights on the horizon flicker for an instant—so brief it could be a reflection.
But the uneasy feeling doesn't fade.
"Hunt or be hunted."
That is the rule of this world.
The law that lets me keep trying, just to avoid falling back into the abyss.
"No one fears being alone in the dark. They fear finding something they can't understand inside it."
Survival is the only way I can delay that meeting…
…avoid returning to that black ocean.
I bend my knees.
My joints are numb, but I can't step back.
Seconds away from death, obeying is my only way out.
"A new attempt."
I mumble as I dig up the curved swords buried inches away from me.
They sway with the wind, chained to the bandages wrapped around my arms.
I've held them more times than I can remember.
Even so, it feels like they knew me before I ever woke up here.
I wonder how many times they slipped from my hands as I died.
How many times I watched them fade while darkness swallowed me.
But they aren't the only ones who noticed my choice.
Just inches away, one of the shadows whispers too, its voice choking with echo.
"Did you… miss us?"
The movement was warped—over before I could blink.
I barely managed to cross my blades to block it.
The impact dragged me several meters, carving long lines in the snow.
My back slammed into a statue.
Its jaw was shattered, as if its final scream had been torn out before it escaped.
A version of me trapped forever in that moment.
I had no time to answer.
The shadow of a spear dropped from above.
The blade sliced through the air with a flash—so fast I barely leaned aside.
"Gugggh!"
I felt the edge graze me before it buried itself in the statue's face.
This was my chance.
The bandages tightened, guiding two slashes across its torso as the shadow pulled its weapon back.
The spear vanished without a sound.
The second shadow rushed me instantly, swinging its sword with a weight that made the ground shake.
When it struck, a cloud of white exploded upward.
A direct cut split the snow in half.
I stepped back and threw one of my swords at its twisted face the moment its guard dropped.
Then I charged in, stabbing with the second.
On impact, the blade shattered from the damage and vanished into the snow.
"Why does it always end like this…?"
At my feet, a pool of crimson spread.
It was blood from a previous death.
I recognized it by the broken statue pieces around it.
That time, it took too long for me to die.
But now, only a few minutes had passed.
"I hate slow deaths—"
A heavy blow cut my words short.
Chains wrapped around my legs, tearing into my skin.
The shadow yanked hard, dropping me instantly.
"Ggyuuh!"
I knew what came next.
"Not this time…! No!"
I shouted, driving one sword into the ground.
The shadow pulled with everything it had, but I was tired of losing.
So I threw the other bandage, yanking its chain toward me.
"Just give up already!"
A sharp pain shot through my arm, forcing my teeth together.
I planted my feet into the frozen ground.
The bandage and chains trembled—like a thread about to snap between us.
The shadow pulled back, dragging the chain toward its blurry shape.
I did the same.
A desperate move… but enough to throw it off balance.
When it slipped, I seized my chance.
I filled my lungs, bent my knees, and pulled as if I were ripping its existence apart.
It was one second.
That was all I needed.
The shadow released its chains and lunged as a last resort—but with a double slash, I cut straight through it.
That made three.
I was exhausted, but I couldn't stop now.
I had only reached this result four hundred and sixty times before.
It felt like the gears had turned just a little more than usual.
"I know…"
My breath echoed across the snow.
"You're coming next—"
I didn't finish.
The fourth shadow appeared right in front of me.
It held a massive scythe, reflecting the light of the gears.
The air grew colder, enough to make my fingers tingle.
I knew her well.
Every trick she used to fool my focus.
Every slow spin disguised as a killing blow.
The same pattern.
Every time I reached this point.
I didn't hesitate.
I jumped aside as the blade brushed my neck.
My body moved on instinct.
I slid one sword along the ground, tangling its edge with the bandage.
The opening was there—clear as a crack in ice.
My second sword rose, ready to strike.
"It's over for you—!"
My shout died mid-word.
Pressure hit my lower back, forcing me to my knees.
This had never happened before.
"Gyugh…"
Just for an instant.
The fifth shadow had teleported behind me.
The twin edges of its curved blades slid between my ribs and pierced my stomach.
The air left my lungs in a whisper.
My swords fell.
The scythe shadow stood in front of me again.
Its blade flashed, cutting my hands, and for a moment—it almost mimicked a human gesture.
Then it bowed.
I had lived this moment two hundred times.
The sound didn't come from its mouth, but from a fracture in the air, vibrating through my broken ribs.
Distorted laughter.
The curved-blade shadow laughed too.
"Die… Die… Die…"
They whispered together, copying my voice with warped echoes.
They had no mouths, but I could feel it.
I could hear them playing with my body.
Their laughter sounded just like the first time I died here.
Their claws lifted me high into the air and sank into my abdomen.
For those seconds, time slowed.
The wind passed through the statues of my past corpses.
Some were so old they were hard to recognize.
Others looked so recent, the pain was still carved into my face.
"Is this… how I'll end…?"
Then my torso was sliced into countless cuts, as if they enjoyed that I was still awake.
I tried to kick them.
It was useless.
One of them had already destroyed my legs— ripping apart what once kept me standing.
I tried to scream.
I couldn't.
My throat was gone.
I tried to fight back.
My hands didn't answer.
How many more times…?
My arms vanished next— one torn from the shoulder, the other ripped away below the elbow.
And still, I didn't faint.
I couldn't.
This world always wants me to see everything.
My body being eaten.
My weakness tearing me apart.
The pounding of my heart.
But I was still there.
Watching... Thinking.... Suffering.
How much longer will this continue…?
That was my last thought before my gaze fixed on the endless horizon.
For a moment, I didn't know if it was a hallucination—
—but I saw a smile forming across the sky.
Anyone would have died long ago.
But things don't work the same here.
When the final bite came, my face was covered by absolute nothingness.
The same shadowy veil.
Another inevitable step.
Another cursed habit.
I didn't know if I was falling or floating.
But I knew it was the same black ocean waiting after the shadows.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't speak.
The darkness choked every thought away.
Then I saw it again.
A white, humanoid shadow standing in the void.
Its shape was blurred, almost weightless.
The Observer.
That's what I named it.
It always appeared after my death.
Its hollow eyes stared into me, examining every fragment of my soul…
…perhaps deciding if I still had value.
A slight tilt of its head—and it faded away.
"One… more…"
It said, its voice echoing inside me before vanishing.
It was the first time it had ever spoken.
I didn't know if those words meant contempt…
…or an invitation.
In a blink, tentacles burst from the abyss, tearing my skin apart until every part of me was erased.
This was my last death.
Number two thousand one hundred and ninety-three.