Crack!

  Sticks snap underfoot as eight hooded figures push through the jungle. Machetes scythe foliage aside. The point man moves easy, posture loose, blade sure. Seven follow. Six sag, feet dragging. The last keeps up—tired, but less so. They look spent—brown cloaks sweat-darkened, flashes of lighter brown trousers and shirts showing through rips—all but the rearmost, who wears a gray cloak, only lightly soiled. Heat presses. Humidity clings. A faint ribbon of rot threads the fresh air.

  Parrots wheel overhead, not yet panicked. Monkeys move the same way—flowing away from something deeper in the trees.

  The point man stops. The second bumps into his back.

  “Si—?”

  A raised hand. Silence. The line settles into ready stances.

  Then his shoulders loosen. A figure steps from a tree’s shade, hood thrown back: a midnight blue cloak, long white hair to mid-back, golden eyes catching the dim light.

  The leader lifts both hands and peels back his own hood—dirt-brown hair, hazel eyes, a face too handsome for the rags.

  “Koln,” he says.

  The newcomer steps closer, calm and lean, hair longer than his kin’s. A small smile—there and gone. “Hein.” Koln nods, then flicks a glance toward the rear, where the gray-cloaked figure keeps pace.

  ***

  ‘Why?’

  Breath catches. Pupils pinch. The frown comes on its own.

  ‘My plan?’

  Sweat runs cold, hands tremble.

  The panther lies in two steaming halves. Corpses slump under paw and teeth. My mistake stands before me.

  I died. ‘They’re still dead?’ The reset—

  Why didn’t it—

  “Reset,” my shadow sneers, draping a cold imitation of an arm across my shoulders like we’re old friends.

  I turn toward him. Confusion knots with fear. Words don’t come.

  “There’s nothing confusing about this,” he says, amused. “It’s simple.”

  “Simple?” I mutter. My head races for a fix.

  “Yes, simple. Actions have consequences.”

  He meets my gaze with lightless, mocking eyes.

  “No. It’ll fix itself like the other times,” I say, trying to reassure myself.

  The shadow barks laughter, peeling his arm off my shoulders and clutching his stomach.

  While he laughs, the air splits—the colossus’ hair-coils spear down. I whirl to meet them. Gunshots roll from the line, chewing the horde. Rot and smoke thicken the air. I snap lightning around me and along my blade, then swing wide. Sparks spit. Arcs char the dirt. The coils retract, hissing. The shadow’s laughter dies with them.

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  “Ha—now you suddenly care. Care about them?”

  I stay quiet, mind racing, desperate for a way to fix this. ‘A way. Think.’ He paces in front of me.

  “Stop pretending you care about these people. You don’t even know their names.”

  He sighs and after a breath throws his arm up and pokes my chest. “You said it yourself. You don’t feel burdened by deaths.”

  I ignore him.

  He turns and walks around me.

  “The only reason you ever felt guilt is Riegt. He made you feel. You don’t feel.” He scoffs.

  “He amplified what was there!” I snap turning to him.

  He rolls his eyes. “Drop the act. No one’s buying it. The only reason they follow you is because they’re just too weak.”

  “You’re wrong. They’re more than that. I didn’t know,” I say, as he stops and leans over one of the dead soldiers.

  “Bullshit. I’m not wrong. Stop this foolishness and give up—on them.”

  He says emotionless.

  I turn toward the colossus. ‘There has to be a way.’

  “There’s no escape. This is permanent. So why not just give up?”

  He walks up beside me spouting in false pity.

  The colossus’ coils spear down.

  ‘Maybe this reset was a fluke.’

  ‘Yeah. A fluke.’

  My blade slips from my fingers. I let death take me.

  The coils tear me apart.

  He stares at my mangled corpse.

  I’m dead.

  ***

  “It’s futile.”

  I die resetting again.

  ‘I won’t accept this.’

  ***

  “You’re wasting time.”

  I die resetting again.

  ‘Is this truly the end for them?’

  ***

  I die again, trying to fix what I’d done.

  ***

  ‘I can’t reset this.’

  ***

  “You can’t run.”

  ***

  A tired sigh escapes me.

  “This is permanent.”

  I mutter under my breath staring at my mistake.

  “Yup. Look on the bright side. You never cared enough to know more, so they’ll stay nameless,” the shadow sneers, squatting beside a man crushed under the panther’s paw.

  He stands and dusts himself off. No dust—just mockery.

  “On second thought, this changes how I see you. Me? You. Yeah, you. You had countless days to learn these soldiers’ names—hell, enough time to dig up everyone’s darkest secrets—and you didn’t even try. And now, now you pretend you care. We don’t care. What’s there to be confused about?” He revels in it.

  His glee boils my blood. Worse, some of it’s true. I didn’t care, and now they’re dead. That’s on me. The number is small, but it changes everything—it means the anchor moved. I can’t fix this with a reset. They’re permanent—people I’m responsible for. Maybe the guilt is selfish. I didn’t even know them. So why do I care? Because it sticks.

  No, the permanent loss is significant, but it’s not just that; they died under my watch. They fought with bravery and valor, trying to hold to the plan I set while Alfrick gave the calls. In days they began to treat me as their leader—accepted my lead. Our bond was forged in blood and fire, through a siege that felt endless. For them it may have been a day; for me, days without number. Before I was strong enough, I watched them fight tooth and nail—for us all—even though I didn’t know every name. I knew their bravery and the loyalty they showed, undeserved. After the victory, the way they looked at me changed. I mattered to them. My grip won’t steady. The weight is clearer now; yet I don’t know how to bear it.

  That’s the problem. Emotion wasn’t and still isn’t my strong suit. Back on Earth I had feelings, but they were suppressed and muted—there, just faint. Since coming here, whatever seal was on me got ripped off. Now things hit that I never truly felt before, and I don’t always know how to respond.

  Yet knowing won’t raise the dead anyway. I can’t change this. Others still need me. The lesson came in blood—my doing. I’ll pay what I owe, even if I can’t make it right.

  “Fucking hell, now you’re just rationalizing it away. Don’t you get it? You’re useless. They’re useless. Give up. Why pretend you’re something you’re clearly not?”

  “I don’t know.” My grip tightens on my blade. “But I have to. I might not completely understand why, but these people deserve to live. They deserve the leader they imagine, and I will try—fucking pest.”

  He sighs and throws up his arms. “Yeah, well, we’ll see how that goes for you.” He slips away. My focus snaps back. Alfrick shouts.

  I turn. The blade snaps electric.

  A hair-coil whips down. I catch it on my edge and heave it aside. Control pushes out; mana pulls in. Lightning flares from skin and steel. I drop my stance and launch. Earth dimples, thunder cracks, and I tear toward the giant.

  Air burns. Rot burns. The flood burns in my wake. A blue-white streak drives for the colossus.

  ‘I won’t be lax. Not again. Not from hubris.’

  The colossus is close. I launch again. Earth craters. The horde rips and sizzles. Coils spear down. I knock one wide, snatch another. A third slices a shallow line across my side. I’m flung up. I pull every shred of mana I can reach. I’m above it. My blade swells with contained light. I shove inner mana into a gust and hammer myself down.

  The blade comes through. Coils spear to meet it—too slow. I cut one clean and carry the swing.

  It tries to slip. Too slow.

  Contact. A white blast blooms at the edge. Lightning jumps—splitting trees, burning the rotten ones. The colossus cleaves in half and collapses, crashing through its own horde.

  I hit the ground hard and stay there, panting. Flat on my back. Burned flesh edges out the rot.

  I burned too much.

  ‘If only I had burned this much earlier.’

  ***

  Gunshots pop behind me, cutting down the horde.

  People scuttle, grabbing supplies, getting ready.

  In front of me lie five bodies. Five people who died.

  People who died for no reason.

  Because I treated this like a game—like I was so powerful that if anything went wrong I could just reset it.

  Now there’s no fixing. It’s permanent.

  I stare at their shrouded shapes. My heart twists. My face feels hollow.

  A hand grips my shoulder.

  Alfrick.

  “Sir.” He looks at the corpses, then back to me. “Preparations are almost complete. I’m about to give the orders.”

  The first retreat. Almost a whole day of killing. After the colossus, the tide slowed, but we hit the threshold anyway.

  I turn to him. Whatever’s on my face, I don’t have a name for it.

  He sees it. “They fought bravely.”

  I glance back. “Yes, they did. Give the order. I have your backs.”

  ‘Don’t fail them.’

  Alfrick nods and lets go, moving off.

  I draw my blade and walk toward the line.

  ‘I won’t let them down.’