I woke up screaming.
... Or tried to.
What came out was a dry, hoarse croak. The sound of vocal cords scratched by smoke, sulfur, and perhaps something worse.
First came the heat. Oppressive and humid. The air so thick it was suffocating, thick with the smell of minerals, old earth, and that characteristic odor of something burning... me.
Then, the cold. Cutting. Sliced through the vapor like a blade, bringing the bite of the icy wind and the electric smell of ozone.
My eyes cracked open.
The world spun, blurred, duplicated, fragmented as if I were looking through shards of glass.
Just stone, uneven, and a dark place.
Water too... no, not just water. Boiling water. I was half-submerged in a bubbling, hissing natural pool, fed by some thermal vein deep in the mountain.
Above, stalactites. Rows of them. Hanging like prey in the mouth of some gigantic predator, dripping condensation that crackles when it hits the surface.
Beyond, the entrance to a cave. Wide open and Irregular. Through it, I could see the storm still raging. Lightning cutting across the sky. Snow swirling in violent spirals.
I'm alive.
The thought felt heavy. Wrong. How? I tried to sit up and, suddenly, the world spun.
A nausea, worse than any loop of motion sickness, worse than dying, worse than anything, coursed through my stomach like a physical wave. My body felt wrong.
I'm not hurt. I'm not broken... More like different, if I may say so.
Heavier and denser. As if I were wearing someone else's skin and it didn't fit me right.
I looked down.
My right hand, gripping something. Knuckles of white fingers. Fingers clenched in a deadly grip around a faint, pulsating crystal that seemed to have fused to my palm.
And to my left... Nothing.
'Just a stump.'
Cauterized and with a furious look. The raw, bubbling flesh, healing with grotesque and visible speed. Like watching a time-lapse video of a healing process that should take weeks, but happens in seconds.
'It's not magic. Not the clean kind, anyway.'
It was something biological, aggressive like a cancer forced to be useful. The pain came a second later. Not localized. Merciless, attacking me all over my body.
A symphony conducted by the burning nerve endings where my arm used to be. I tried to scream again. But only that hoarse grunt escaped my lips.
'So... any text?'
Burning before my eyes. It wasn't the clean, blue interface of the Academy. It was an erratic red. Flickering like corrupted data struggling to load.
[SYSTEM INTEGRATION: CRITICAL]
[HOST BODY ASSIMILATED]
[Analyzing...]
The words pulsed, then Glitched and reformed again.
Name: ...a nameless slave... (Designation: Anko)
Class: Slave Knight (Shinobi of the Divine Priestess)
Fate: To become a demon and slaughter the Divine Blood.
Talent (Intrinsic): [Semi-Immortal], [Mark of the Slave], [Joy of Killing]
Divinity (External): [Possessed], [Blessed by Light]
Status: Severe trauma. Left arm severed. Mana circuits overloaded.
I read slowly. I let each word sink into my mind.
'Nameless. Slave. Demon.'
Then, beneath it all, just a single line in a calm, golden font, superimposed on the red corruption like sunlight piercing through smoke:
[Grace]: Be possessed by the Firekeeper.
I just stared. Then I laughed... or tried to. It came out as a wet, bubbling cough that tasted of copper and ashes.
"Well," I rasped. "Look at that."
I let my head fall back against the stone.
"Fine. Let's play this game."
...
My mind drifted.
I couldn't hold onto the present. The pain was unbearable. Then, it pulled me back... to the Fall.
I remembered the absence of gravity, weightlessness. Soldiers screaming as they plummeted into the blue immensity. The abyss opening like a mouth.
... and me.
Acting on instinct. On something else. Something that wasn't quite me but lived in the spaces between my thoughts.
Remembering the sword, the jian stolen from who-knows-where, I simply pushed everything aside and plunged the katana I had in my hand into the ice wall.
Soon, the metal screeched against the stone. Sparks flew all over my face. My boots smoked as I tried to brake.
But gravity doesn't want to negotiate. I was falling fast... to fast. The kinetic energy building and building. One impact and I'd be turned to mush
I need a brake. I need a cushion. I need something!
"...Pretty please hold up there."
Desperate and stupid enough to beg an inanimate object. But the sword answered. Not with words... with warmth?
The blade became translucent. Veins of liquid gold emerged from my hand onto the steel. A vibration and a harmonic resonance followed, making my teeth chatter and my bones ache.
'Fuck my luck. I created my own death flag.'
The ice didn't melt. It sublimated, passing from a solid state to vapor in an instant, the pressure increasing, the rock cracking, the sword acting as a capacitor absorbing energy from something it couldn't contain.
... it was going to explode!
Even so, I channeled everything into this. Not mana, I didn't know how. Just Willpower. Pure and Stubborn. The same refusal to die that kept me sane during eighteen years of cycles.
'I want to live. I hate this prison. I'm disgusted with this fate.'
Then I pointed the blade downwards. I tried to use the jet of force as a thrust.
BANG.
Not an explosion. A complete blackout.
A sphere of pure, golden, burning force expanding from the tip. Sound gone, replaced by vacuum. Followed by a shockwave.
Like being struck by a train made of sunlight and fury. The recoil didn't stop me. It launched me. Sideways. Leaping through the air like a stone in water. Piercing through ice, rock, ancient sediments.
The last thing I remember was my left arm getting caught on a sharp rock, a snap followed by excruciating pain and a deep darkness.
...
Back to the cave.
The memory faded. Only a phantom pain remained in an arm that no longer existed.
I dragged myself out of the water. Inch by inch. My remaining hand gripping the rock.
This body... Anko, it was athletic, lean, muscles defined by hunger and survival. But it was on the edge.
"At least alive," I murmured, trying to inject a bit of bravado into the humid air. "Handsome? Maybe under allthe dirt."
I leaned against a stalagmite and began searching my pockets with trembling fingers.
"Looting myself, how ironic."
The shinobi armor was ruined, the leather boiled and torn. But the pouches were intact.
I laid everything out on dry stone.
Inventory:
1. Three blue crystals [Rough-cut. Pulsating with cold light. Dense. Heavy. Currency? Batteries? Explosives? Unknown.]
2. A dubious potion [Clay vial. Stoppered with wax. Smelled like rotten eggs and mint. Healing? Poison? Bad booze? Gambling with my life wasn't appealing.]
3. A whetstone [Simple. Worn. Useless to a one-armed man with no blade.]
4. A handbook [Dark leather. Filled with handwritten notes in a language I shouldn't understand but somehow did. Not a manual. A ledger. Names. Dates. Locations. Targets? Debts? Contracts?]
And finally... the sword or what was left of it.
At the bottom of the pool, the broken katana was dissolving. Not rusting. Not melting. Disintegrating into light.
Sparks of gold. Tiny geometric cubes. Rising through the water like fireflies. They spun. Glowed. Then drifted toward me. I flinched. Expected pain.
Instead... warmth.
They sank into my chest. Embedded themselves in the breastplate like decorative studs.
Soul-bound weaponry? Biotrackable tech?
"I'll think about it later," I sighed. "When my brain stops leaking."
I tried to recall my old life. Marketing strategies. Quarterly reports. The escape plan.
It felt distant. Like a movie I'd watched years ago. Someone else's story.
'Who divides the loot after a raid?'
My thoughts were fragmenting. Exhaustion pulling at me like a tide. I slumped against the rock. Let the heat seep into my bones.
... and slept.
...
I woke with a start. Heart hammering. Metallic taste on my tongue. Still here.
The cave. The storm. The boiling water.
And the empty space where my arm used to be.
I reached for it instinctively. The stump was smooth now. Shiny. Pink like new burn tissue.
[Semi-Immortal] was terrifyingly efficient.
"Guess the kid had some skills," I muttered.
Then the interface flickered back.
Glitching. Unstable. Like bad software on a dying machine.
[Class: Slave Knight]
[Talent: Mark of the Slave]
The words mocked me.
"Shit! Dammit! Or, fucking, Holy God of mine."
I groaned. Really needed better profanity for this world.
'A Slave? Me? The Great Me?'
It wasn't enough to be dragged into a frozen hellscape. Wasn't enough to be mutilated.
Now I was property.
Stamped with the one label I despised more than anything.
"To become a demon and kill the Divine Blood."
I recited the Fate line.
"Terrible job description. No benefits. No retirement plan."
I looked at the jagged rocks nearby. The urge rose...dark, seductive.
'End it. Slash your throat. Reset the loop.
My hand found a sharp stone. Grip tightened. Just one quick cut.
... I hesitated.
'Wait.'
I looked at my stump. At the storm outside... I fell, crashed and slept. Then, woke up.
"I didn't die tonight."
The realization hit harder than the fall... No reset. No "Good morning, Kai." No invisible walls.
The Loop was broken.
The stone fell from my hand. A sound bubbled up. From a chuckle to a laugh. Then a cackle that echoed off damp stone and made something in the darkness shuffle nervously.
My mood swung violently, like a pendulum breaking from its chain.
From suicidal despair to wild, electric ecstasy. I pushed my remaining hand into the air. Forced my battered body to sit straight.
Flashed a victory sign at the uncaring ceiling.
"Finally!" I roared, voice cracking. "Finally out of that damn whore of a Loop!"
I looked at my missing arm. At the Slave brand on my status. At the cold wind biting through the cave mouth. I was crippled. I was enslaved. I was lost in a demon-infested war zone... but I was Free.
"What bad could happen now?" I asked the darkness, manic grin stretching my face. "I've already lost everything."
I let my head fall back. Closed my eyes.
— Not in defeat... in anticipation.
"That just means I have everything to gain."
A burden I hadn't realized I was carrying for centuries, for lifetimes, for eternities lifted from my shoulders.
The future was terrifying. Dark. Full of pain... And it was beautiful.
"Everything else," I whispered, letting sleep pull me under again, "is a problem for later."
Somewhere in the dark, text bloomed across my vision.
[Grace]: Trial Phase 2 – Initiated.
[Status: Critical but stable.]
[Anko's body is adapting to Firekeeper's soul.]
[Warning: Host rejection possible.]
[Estimated time until full synchronization: 72 hours.]
[New Objective: Survive until dawn.]
[Secondary Objective: Reach the Ashen Temple before the Asura finds you.]
[Tertiary Objective: Do not lose the other arm. You'll need it.]
I didn't open my eyes. Just smiled in the dark.
"Grace," I mumbled. "You're a real bitch, you know that?"
A pause.Then... she answered.
[Grace]: I've been called worse by better men.
[Sleep, Firekeeper.]
[The real Nightmare begins tomorrow.]
I laughed softly. And let the darkness take me.
[Dawn arrives in 8 hours.]
[The Asura is 47 kilometers away and closing.]
[The Divine Blood has noticed your survival.]
[Someone is coming.]