Cassian was already awake.
He didn't remember when he had opened his eyes.
He simply found himself staring at the ceiling, the wooden beams above coming into focus slowly.
"Unstable save file…? Memory corruption?"
"What does that mean?"
Min-jae stared at the words without blinking.
Up until now, he had assumed the loop would hold. That as long as the scenario remained uncleared, he could keep throwing himself into the blade.
However many times now, he'd lost count.
"Did I push it too far?"
Maybe the system wasn't infinite after all.
Who knows what would happen if he tried another reckless death?
Min-jae shook his head slightly.
"Yeah, there's no way I'm taking that risk."
He closed the warning window. The blue shimmer faded but the words stuck around his mind all the same.
Min-jae stood slowly, the wooden chair scraping faintly against the floor. He reached for a sword from the weapon rack early and turned toward the door.
He knew the internal timing by now, in about fifteen more minutes, the armored guy would show up and ask him if he was ready.
But Min-jae realized that he had been confined to this one room and arena, never bothering to look beyond it.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the corridor.
Sunlight spilled through the arched windows along the hallway.
For the first time since arriving in this world, he actually slowed down to observe.
He stopped by a window and looked outside toward the open town below.
The view almost took his breath away.
Crystal-horned draft beasts pulled on carriages along the main streets of the arena grounds, their hooves leaving small indentations of light on the stone path.
Stable hands moved between armored warhorses, brushing them down as if they were no more unusual than cattle.
Turning back to the arena venue itself, he saw a few other details that he'd never paid attention to from the game.
Wind charms hummed faintly along the stands, cooling the nobles who were seated beneath canopies while the common section remained baked in the sun below.
Merchants ran through the crowd with trays of roast meat skewers that reminded him that dying over and over really took a toll on his appetite.
Min-jae realized that this wasn't a cutscene or background art…it was a self-functioning world.
Back home, the loudest thing outside his dorm had been traffic and late-night arguments through thin walls.
No wonder he'd lost hours staring at a screen, wishing he could step into it.
And now he had.
Just… not under the circumstances he'd imagined.
The roar of the crowd swelled again, and Min-jae's gaze drifted toward a cluster of men gathered near a side railing.
A small board had been set up against the stone wall, names scrawled across it in chalk.
Odds written beside them.
He didn't need to step closer to know which side favored whom.
The protagonist's name was circled heavily, the numbers beside it in the four-digits range.
While Cassian D'Averne's?
3 bets.
Min-jae let out a faint huff.
"Figures."
To them, this wasn't a turning point in someone's life. It was a spectacle, just a money-making opportunity.
Min-jae reached into his pocket and was surprised when his fingers brushed against a few cold coins.
He pulled them out and stared at them for a moment.
It wasn't much.
Probably meant for a meal later.
"…That's it?"
He frowned slightly.
A noble's son carrying this little coin?
He didn't know the details yet, but the implication was obvious enough.
"Well, whatever."
Min-jae looked back at the board.
If he failed, there might not be another reset.
These coins wouldn't matter anyway.
Min-jae stepped forward and placed them on his own name.
The bookmaker barely looked up.
"Confident, are we?" the bookmaker responded. "Using your last amount of coin to bet on yourself is a power move to be honest."
Last amount of coin?
The thought had always lingered in the back of Min-jae's mind, but hearing this person talk about it confirmed the suspicion.
Cassian D'Averne, more specifically, the D'Averne house was likely a fallen noble family.
He had received a small slip recognizing he'd placed a bet. Just as he bent down to reach for the quill dipped in ink, something caught his eye.
Min-jae glanced sideways.
Not far from the betting board, half-shadowed underneath an overhanging arch, stood a hooded figure.
The fabric concealed most of her face, but he caught a glimpse of pale skin and blonde strands slipping free from beneath the hood.
She wasn't watching the arena.
No…she was watching him.
The moment their eyes met, she shifted slightly and turned away.
The hood dipped lower as she disappeared into the moving crowd without a word.
Min-jae stared after her for a second longer than he meant to.
"…What was that?"
The noise of the arena swallowed the question before it could settle.
By the time he straightened and handed the bookmaker his signed slip, the bearded, armored man was already approaching.
His gaze flicked briefly toward the betting board… then toward Min-jae.
He narrowed his eyes but said nothing further.
"Cassian D'Averne, are you ready?"
Min-jae hardened his expression as he adjusted the sword on his belt.
"Yeah. Lead the way."
***
The referee was already speaking the same rules he'd heard countless times.
Min-jae didn't hear any of it.
It all blurred into background noise.
Across from him stood the protagonist.
One hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.
But this time, the protagonist tilted his head slightly.
"You seem composed," he said, voice carrying clearly despite the noise.
Min-jae held his gaze.
"Thanks."
The signal dropped once more, and the fight began.
As always, the protagonist moved first.
To the crowd, it must've looked instantaneous, a blur crossing the sand in a single breath.
One moment he stood across the arena, the next he was already behind Min-jae, blade thrusting forward in a clean motion meant to finish the duel in one strike.
But Min-jae had seen this opening too many times to mistake it now.
Before the blade could pierce through his back, Min-jae pivoted sharply, turning on his heel with his sword already rising to meet the attack.
Their blades collided in a violent burst.
The impact reverberated up his arms, but his grip held this time. He had learned that much. The thrust that had killed him dozens of times slid off the edge of his blade instead of punching through his chest.
For the first time since this nightmare began, he wasn't a step behind.
The protagonist's expression shifted into confusion.
But the next attack came anyway.
A sharp arc aimed cleanly at Min-jae's head, forcing him to either block or lose vision in a single blow.
Min-jae raised his sword instinctively, steel screeching as the edge glanced off.
The follow-up was immediate.
The blade dipped mid-swing, twisting toward his ribs in the same breath. Min-jae shifted his weight backward, letting the edge slice through empty air where his body had been.
He died to that follow-up twice already.
The third attack came low.
A leg sweep meant to take him off his feet.
Min-jae stepped back just enough, using the spraying sand from the attack to leap backwards, creating distance.
The crowd's reaction shifted.
What had begun as eager anticipation now carried a note of confusion. This wasn't the swift execution they had been promised. Cassian D'Averne was still standing.
Across from him, the protagonist lowered his blade slightly.
Min-jae adjusted his stance, shoulders rising and falling in controlled breaths. His arms burned faintly from the repeated impacts. He kept his gaze locked on the other boy's shoulders.
Then something changed.
The protagonist stepped back half a pace.
His sword tilted downward, the tip brushing the sand.
A faint blue sheen began to trace along the steel. At first, it looked like reflected light.
Then the glow deepened.
It clung to the sword's edge, like a veil that had wrapped around the blade.
"No way…"
"He's forming Intent already?"
"That kid's a genius…"
Min-jae felt it before he fully understood it.
What the hell? He's never done this before?!
The protagonist's eyes met his, the earlier curiosity in his gaze was gone, replaced by killing intent.
"Sorry," he said evenly.
"I'm going to get serious."
Min-jae's eyes widened, his feet moving, but it was already too late.
The blue-lined blade pierced through his side, steel punching past ribs and muscle and into his body.
The world seemed to slow.
For a moment, there was no sound…just the cold reality of steel embedded in his body.
His sword hung by his side
His knees threatened to buckle.
"So this is it…"
His vision blurred at the edges.
"Even after all that, I couldn't beat him."
The thought hovered there in silence.
But then, something inside him rejected it.
Who decided that?
I'm going to fail? Who decided that?
The words didn't come out of his mouth.
The quest never said to win, it said survive.
And he was still standing despite it all. The blade was still in him—
Which meant the distance between them was nothing. Min-jae's fingers tightened around his sword.
If the script expected him to fall here—
Then he would tear through it.
Even if it cost him everything.
"I REFUSE to be condemned by this fate—!"
A faint tremor ran along his blade, forming itself a thin silver shimmer along its edge.
Min-jae stepped forward, pain exploded through his body, but he didn't care.
He drove his sword forward with everything he had left.
Steel tore through cloth, then through flesh.
The faint shimmer of his blade flared violently before breaking through. The protagonist staggered back in shock.
A deep cut split across his chest, blood soaking in the fabric of his clothes.
Min-jae swayed where he stood.
The sword was still lodged in his side.
His own blade slipped from his fingers and fell into the sand.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
The protagonist took one step forward.
Then his knee hit the sand, falling over. Min-jae felt his own legs give out at the same time.
The crowd was silent.
The referee hesitated only a fraction of a second before rushing forward, hands raised.
"The duel is concluded—!"
"Neither combatant can continue. The result—is a draw!"
The silence turned into pure chaos.
But Min-jae barely heard it.
A strange, hollow laugh almost escaped him, but he didn't have the strength.
"…I did it."
Darkness crept in slowly this time.
As his body finally gave in, one last thought drifted through him:
I finally did it.