The alarm rings.
Tristan lets out a deep breath as he sits up on his bed, his hands shaking. He stands, walks to the bathroom, and splashes water onto his face. He stares at his reflection in the mirror—his breathing uneven, his hands still trembling.
The sound of the TV snaps him out of his daze.
Tristan leaves the bathroom and walks toward the living room, his gaze fixed on the screen.
"In this segment, we'll be going over the most recent gate and hunter news."
The same news report ensues. The same reaction.
He steels himself and heads to the gate. The battle follows—the same attack patterns, the same feeling of triumph.
Then comes the same overwhelming presence. The same helplessness before it. The same defeat at the hands of the dragon's master.
He sits on the floor once again, hopeless.
"…just who are you?" he mutters.
The alarm rings again.
He doubts. He reassures himself. He heads to the gate again.
The battle repeats—the same attacks, the same words, the same fleeting sense of victory.
Fear. Helplessness. Weakness.
All the same as before.
He collapses once more, his final words unchanged.
"…just who are you?"
This repeats another 681 times.
He jolts awake, his head throbbing, blood trickling from his nose. A flood of images crashes through his mind. He clutches his head in agony, his eyes squinting as tears form.
"Another weird dream…" Tristan mutters, his groans growing louder.
He gets up and walks into the living room. The TV is playing the same segment he saw in his "dream."
Fear consumes him. The despair and helplessness he felt during his first raid of the gate crashes over him once more.
His head pounds harder and harder.
"Should I call off the raid again?" Tristan mumbles. "But it's only two months until the gate breaks out."
"!"
All the worry vanishes at once.
"No," he mutters, a fiery glow igniting in his eyes. His resolve hardens as he clenches his fist.
"I'm strong enough now," he asserts. "I don't need to evolve. I just need to adapt."
The words of his master escape his mouth.
His brain feels like it's exploding—the toll of forcibly remembering his former deaths becoming painfully evident.
They enter the gate once more, the same narrow cavern stretching ahead.
The dragon descends.
"Here it comes!" Kade shouts as Jin and Mira ready their weapons.
A blur flashes past them.
Tristan dashes forward.
"W-What are yo—"
The sound of Tristan's sword cleaving through the dragon's two front legs cuts Kade off. The dragon shrieks in pain as it crashes face-first into the ground, the earth trembling beneath its weight.
It snaps its jaws open, charging a fireball.
Tristan steps back a single pace, slices the fireball cleanly in half with one vertical motion, then dashes back into close range. He spins to the right and decapitates the dragon with a wide, circular swing.
The battle ends in seconds.
Yet Tristan's grip on his sword tightens.
Confusion and disbelief are etched onto the faces of his teammates.
Tristan's eyes widen. Veins bulge across his face. His teeth grind together in anger.
In the distance stands a figure.
A far too familiar figure.
The ground cracks beneath Tristan's feet as he lunges forward, covering the distance in ten steps. Mana floods into his arms and blade as he slashes down at the dragon master.
The dragon master twists his body, narrowly evading the strike. The ground shatters under the force of the blow.
Tristan snaps his head to the left, his pupils glowing gold as he activates foresight.
Time slows.
"A downward sl—"
A kick crashes into Tristan's chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. He is sent flying into a distant wall, his ribcage shattering on impact.
He collapses, one hand clutching his chest as he gasps for air.
The dragon master gives him no time to recover, dashing in immediately.
Blood spurts from Tristan's mouth as he grits his teeth and activates foresight again. The slowed figure is already in front of him, a diagonal slash aimed at his chest.
He rolls to the left, narrowly avoiding the attack, his body skidding across the floor before coming to a stop on one knee.
He raises his head—
—and sees the tip of a blade inches from his face.
"Fuck," he mutters.
The blade plunges into his skull, killing him instantly.
---
The alarm rings.
The day repeats.
Their clash repeats.
His loss is rewarded with death.
Again and again.
After another 681 deaths—
The gate collapses behind them with an echo.
The dragon desc—
It's beheaded.
Tristan's blade carves cleanly through the dragon's neck. Its massive body crashes to the ground, the impact destroying the terrain beneath it.
Tristan lands atop the corpse, his gaze locked onto the figure approaching from the darkness.
Their eyes meet.
Tristan steps down from the dragon, his sword surging with golden mana. The dragon master unsheathes his own blade.
They approach each other slowly.
Boom.
They dash forward simultaneously. Dust erupts behind them as their swords clash, sparks flying. Their gazes remain locked.
The dragon master forces Tristan back with the impact, sending him skidding across the ground.
Tristan's eyes glow gold. He raises his sword, anticipating another clash.
The dragon master feints a downward slash, leaps back a pace, then lunges forward with a thrust aimed at Tristan's heart.
Tristan tracks the movement, twisting around the blade's trajectory. He traps the sword with his sheath and drives his own blade into the dragon master's shoulder, severing his arm.
The dragon master channels mana into his weapon, shattering the sheath and extending his mana blade—cutting off Tristan's arm in return.
They retreat.
Tristan clutches his bleeding shoulder, his skin growing pale as blood pours out. His chest tightens with every breath.
The dragon master stands calmly, black blood dripping from his severed limb as he assesses Tristan.
Tristan looks up, groaning as his vision dims. He locks eyes with the dragon master.
Enjoyment is etched onto the dragon master's face.
With a snarl, Tristan charges.
The world spins.
His severed head tumbles across the ground.
The last thing he sees is the dragon master being attacked by his teammates as his vision fades.
"Bastard," Tristan mutters.
Death.
---
The alarm rings.
Tristan sits up in bed.
"Have I died?" he mutters, glancing at his trembling, sweat-soaked hands.
He dismisses the thought. After all, he had just woken up.
He washes his face and heads to the gate.
"This time, I'll definitely kill him," Tristan says, brows furrowed and fists clenched.
Kade looks at him, confused. "Kill wh—"
Tristan dashes forward.
His sword cleaves through the dragon's neck, and he lands atop its slumped corpse.
"What the fuck?" Kade mutters.
Tristan disappears into the darkness, a golden trail of mana following him. Sparks erupt as debris flies and dust clouds fill the cavern.
Thud.
Kade's eyes widen. His blood boils as Tristan's decapitated head hits the ground, the sound echoing through the cave.
He looks up and sees the reason.
The figure notices his gaze and turns toward them. They don't understand his words—
—but they hear his laughter.
"Y-you… YOU BASTARD!" Kade roars.
His body moves on its own. Shield raised, he charges. Jin attacks from the left. Mira from the right.
Futile.
With a single swing, all three are cut in half. Their organs spill to the ground as blood floods the cavern.
Death.
Again and again.
680 more deaths.
---
Tristan's eyes snap open.
His head throbs as new memories flood his mind.
He lets out a weak chuckle. "I guess I did die."
He stands before the door, his hand hovering over the handle.
"Should I stop?" he asks himself. "Can I really beat him this time?"
Doubt creeps in.
He grips the handle, opens the door, then slams it shut behind him.
"It's not a matter of can I beat him," Tristan says, fire burning in his eyes.
"I have to beat him."
They enter the gate. It closes behind them.
Tristan calmly unsheathes his sword, controlled golden mana flowing from it. He inspects the blade, then sends a vertical slash through the air.
"What are you—"
The sound of the dragon's severed body crashing to the ground cuts Kade off. The dragon is split cleanly in two, both halves steaming from the burning mana.
"All of you, stay back," Tristan says as he walks forward.
"What do you mean stay back?" Mira asks. "Aren't we clearing this together?"
"I won't repeat myself," Tristan says firmly. "Stay back. That's an order."
His voice reverberates as his body blurs forward, the ground cracking beneath his feet.
They clash.
Blow for blow, their pace perfectly matched.
"How do I beat this guy?" Tristan thinks as he blocks a strike aimed at his neck.
"I know I haven't gotten stronger—I regress every time—so how am I blocking him?"
He leaps back, unleashing a barrage of thrusts. Each one is deflected.
"!"
It clicks.
"I'm not blocking because I can track him," Tristan realizes. "I can't track these attacks."
A feint to the right—then a spin kick to the left.
"The only reason I'm dodging…" Tristan steps back, letting the kick pass, "…is because my body reacts on time."
He counters with a stab toward the dragon master's chest.
"It doesn't matter if I can't remember how I died," he continues. "My muscles remember. I've died to these techniques so many times my body was forced to learn them."
"I don't need foresight," Tristan declares. "I can rely on my reflexes."
His master's words echo in his mind.
Don't evolve. Adapt.
His blade pierces the dragon master's chest.
The dragon master tightens his muscles, trapping the blade.
"This fuckin' guy," Tristan scoffs.
In an instant, his left arm is severed.
The dragon master smiles.
Tristan roars, channeling all his mana into his sword.
"AGHHH!"
The dragon master's torso explodes, gore raining down.
Tristan kneels atop the corpse.
Victory is his.
He glances at his severed arm and scoffs. He raises his sword, its tip resting against his neck.
"What are you doing?! Stop!" Kade yells.
A smile spreads across Tristan's face. His fear of death is gone.
His teammates lunge toward him.
"One more time," he mutters—
—and drives the blade into his neck.
The alarm rings.