Sweat beaded on Sarah's brow, dripping onto the cracked pavement before the Fountain of Sin. Her arms trembled slightly, but she held the plank position, body rigid just inches above the ground.

  Two hours. Two hours, she thought, her eyes flicking to the fountain's still surface. If my internal clock isn't completely screwed. A faint warmth spread through her muscles, the promised burn barely a whisper.

  These stat points... They were a cheat code, a shortcut to improvement without the grueling grind. Except for the whole dying part. That was a definite downside. Still, a little hard work never hurt anyone. Well, mostly.

  Pushing herself up, Sarah brushed off invisible dust, a wry smile twisting her lips. She crouched, cupping her hands to drink from the fountain. Her reflection stared back, a ghost of sadness lingering in her eyes, before the light blue water rippled and distorted the image.

  "Waters of Sin," she murmured, the name heavy with unspoken questions. "What am I supposed to do with you? And what awaits me on the other side of that damn door? Can't exactly bottle you up and take you with me."

  As the cool water slid down her throat, a notification flashed in her peripheral vision:

  You have drunk from the water of sin. HP, MP and Stamina recovery are increased by 500% for the next 2 hours.

  Sarah was bone-tired. The unfamiliar surroundings had initially triggered a flicker of primal unease, a vestigial instinct for vigilance. She'd almost chuckled at the thought of "stag duty" – a lone sentinel in this strange, silent place. There was no one to watch over her as she slept, and no one for her to watch over. She was utterly, completely alone.

  But the solitude, after the initial prickle of anxiety, settled into something almost comforting. She'd thoroughly explored the area, every nook and cranny, and found nothing. Well, almost nothing. There was the sentient door, of course, with its unsettlingly quick dismissal and implied threat. But even that seemed unlikely to be a problem anytime soon. It wasn't as if it was going to sprout legs and chase her. The thought brought a small smile to her lips. The quiet, the emptiness, the lack of immediate danger... It was strangely reassuring. She could finally let down her guard.

  Leaning against the cool stone of the fountain, she closed her eyes. Exhaustion claimed her quickly, pulling her down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  When she woke, her mouth felt like sandpaper and her back was stiff, a familiar ache that spoke of makeshift beds and less-than-ideal sleeping arrangements. It wasn't as bad as it usually was after a night against a wall, but it was still noticeable. As she stood and stretched, a thought drifted through her mind: Maybe another few points in Endurance would fix that.

  Sarah chuckled, the sound echoing slightly in the otherwise still chamber. Skill points? The absurdity of it all was almost comforting, a bizarre counterpoint to the equally absurd, yet undeniably refreshing, fountain she'd just drunk from.

  The magical water had banished her thirst and fatigue in an instant, but it hadn't done a thing for the weariness in her eyes as she glanced at her reflection. Rough around the edges, definitely. With a sigh, she scanned the room again, confirming her suspicion: nothing had changed.

  Restlessness gnawed at her. Sleep was out of the question, so Sarah sank back down, resigned to the familiar ritual. Time to kill meant time to delve into the endless details of her status screen. She'd read it a dozen times already, but maybe, just maybe, something new would jump out at her.

  It was a long shot, but anything was better than staring at the bare stone walls. Methodically, she began to reread the descriptions, starting with her title and skills, then moving on to everything else, even the most mundane entries. Everything had a description, no matter how pointless it seemed, even her name.

  - Name: Sarah-Jane Kemp

  The name given to her by the orphanage. Abandoned at birth.

  - Class: None

  Classes are a reflection of an individual. Who they are, what they want to be and what they can become are decided upon selection. Different from subclasses, of which a person can have many, only a single class is permitted at once. Skills that are learned through leveling up are tied to the soul and can still be used even if the class is switched

  Most descriptions were easy enough to grasp, but some meanings remained frustratingly elusive. How am I supposed to know what a subclass is when I don't even have a main class? she grumbled, rereading the confusing class description. Subclasses were absent from her status screen, likely due to her lack of a primary class, or some other unknown reason. Some descriptions were just plain weird, others oddly mystical.

  - Stamina

  The rate at which the host expends physical energy. The more you have, the longer you last. Greater effort depletes reserves faster. At your age, you should be capable of more. Get fit.

  - Magic

  The essence of creation, the foundation of the world. It resides within all living creatures. Even you. Mastering the elements is a daunting task, and only the truly devout will unlock its secrets.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Some were actually encouraging, even flattering.

  - Endurance

  The body's innate capacity to recover and adapt. It's not merely about how much punishment one can endure, but how quickly one rebounds. High endurance means faster injury recovery, resistance to poisons and diseases, and resilience against the corrupting influence of dark magic. Strive to be Unmovable!

  - Strength

  More than just muscle; it's the will to overcome, the unyielding spirit fueling physical action. It's the fire in the belly that propels a warrior forward, the unwavering resolve that allows blacksmiths to shape steel. It governs not only physical attack power, knockback resistance, and carrying capacity, but numerous other factors. Your muscles are quite lean. Have you been working out?

  And those cheesy catchphrases! Dorks!

  She suspected those last two descriptions reflected the extra points she’d invested in them.

  Sarah gauged the passage of time by the cooldown on (Immortality). Sixteen hours had passed since her death, leaving her eight hours to kill until the skill could be used again. She'd already scrutinized her status screen twice.

  "This shit blows!" Sarah shouted, the echo of her voice bouncing off the unseen walls of her would-be prison. No longer worried about unseen observers, frustration boiled over. The rooms were empty, save for the one guarded by the talking, murderous door. She was trapped, bored, and utterly at a loss.

  "Might as well work out," she muttered. "Training's never a bad idea." She began stretching, methodical and thorough. Legs, arms, core – each position held for ten seconds, the tingling sensation a welcome distraction. She repeated the sequence on the other side, then shook herself loose. "Right, here we go!"

  Determination, fueled by boredom, propelled her. She began jogging around the small room, setting a steady pace. Sarah was one of the few who actually enjoyed a pre-workout run, and with her pulse elevated, she knew this session would be a good one. She craved the burn.

  For over an hour, she ran, varying her pace, reveling in the newfound benefits of her improved Endurance stat. The thought of what a few points could do was intoxicating. Eventually, the dizzying effect of circling the fountain forced her to utilize the corridors instead.

  Why did I think running in circles was a good idea? she thought, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

  Properly warmed up, Sarah launched into a full-body workout. The fountain became her makeshift gym – tricep dips, elevated push-ups. Limited by the lack of equipment, she stuck to the basics: push-ups, sit-ups, tricep dips, burpees, squats. Each repetition was a small act of defiance against her confinement.

  Four hours later, exhaustion hit her like a wave. But it wasn't in vain. A notification flashed in her mind:

  < You have pushed past your limits. +1 Strength and +1 Endurance.

  "This place is weird," she panted, "Kind of cool, pretty lonely, and very fucking weird." She stood, and her stomach rumbled in protest. It was surprising that only now, after so many hours and a grueling workout, was she feeling the pangs of hunger.

  Back on base, she, the 5'2" girl with dark brown hair, was known as "the glutton." She could easily put away three full servings, even more after a PT session. The image of the fire behind the murderous door, and the feast she imagined waiting there, filled her mind.

  Dejection settled over her. No food, no options. Sarah slumped to the cold ground, the vision of that imaginary feast dancing behind her eyelids. She could almost smell the roasting meat, hear the crackle of the fire. The contrast between the imagined warmth and the cold reality of her situation was almost unbearable.

  Waking with a jolt, Sarah felt the lingering fuzz of unwanted sleep. She’d drifted off, damn it, and now the price was due. The cooldown on (Immortality) had expired, the countdown to her next… Demise… Complete. This is going to suck, she thought, the understatement of rhis lifetime.

  Dragging her feet, she shuffled down the corridor, each step a testament to her utter lack of enthusiasm. She aimed for what she desperately hoped was the final death of this particular cycle – until, of course, the sweet release of old age finally claimed her. I fucking hate this place, she thought, the sentiment echoing in the sterile silence.

  The door, predictably, had reverted to its original, unsettling form. The intricate criss-cross pattern and golden circles coalesced into the same mocking face that had sneered her away last time.

  "Back again, Demon?" The golden lips moved, but the words seemed to lag, creating a creepy, disjointed effect.

  "Who are you calling Demon? I'm not the talking murder door. You're the one with the face on its… Surface.” Sarah retorted, not expecting a profound philosophical debate, but unable to resist the jab.

  "I am far from such a… Thing. I am a magical being, not the lowly creature you imply." The door’s voice dripped with disdain, as if the very idea of being labeled a demon was an insult.

  "Whatever. Doesn't change the situation. So, are we doing this or what?" Sarah just wanted it over with. She yearned to move on, to escape this recurring nightmare, even if only temporarily. She was tired, bone-tired, soul-tired, of this macabre dance with death.

  "You have more spirit this time, I see. As such, I'll be considerate and only take your legs. What do you think of my price?" The offer took Sarah aback, not that she'd ever agree. As much as the thought of dying again made her stomach churn, the idea of losing her legs felt infinitely worse. Besides, she'd never make it through in time without them. The doors would slam shut, and he'd be laughing at her again. Not today.

  "That doesn't quite suit me," Sarah replied, stalling. "Why is the price lower than before?" She was still fuzzy on the specifics of her (Immortality) skill. Resurrection was incredible, but would it work on just parts of her? And even if it did, how long would it take for her legs to grow back?

  "I do not mind taking all you have," the voice boomed, laced with something that sounded suspiciously like petulance. "Especially if that is what you desire. I have heard some demons even enjoy that sort of… Activity."

  Gotcha, Sarah thought, a small, grim smile playing on her lips. "Come on then," she taunted. "I bet I can get through this time before you close up, you… Crafty corridor blocker."

  The air crackled. "How dare you! Someone like you has no chance of entering the sanctuary, not while I am here. I will destroy your body and soul for that insult! You will not use your demon magic this time, Beast!"

  Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Sarah briefly wondered why nothing was happening, then remembered another one of her awkwardly acquired skills. As time snapped back to normal, her body was once again engulfed in crimson lightning, far more intense than before. Her taunt had clearly hit a nerve.

  She screamed, the sound cut short as her vision vanished, followed swiftly by her body. The overcharged attack, fueled by the relic's wounded pride, obliterated her. There was nothing left of Lance Corporal Sarah-Jane Kemp.

  The doors, having fully opened to unleash the devastating blast, slammed shut. "Stupid automated functions," the relic grumbled, then, its voice dripping with smug satisfaction, it considered the now-nonexistent demon. "Showed her. Nobody calls me a corridor blocker! Bitch."