Darkness.
Not the poetic kind with twinkling stars in the backdrop. Nah. Pure void. The type that makes you wonder if you're a soul drifting in a cosmic toilet bowl.
Then—ding.
The system's cold, robotic voice echoed in my skull:
[Welcome to the Life and Death Trial.]
I flexed my knuckles, bone cracks echoing. "Alright then. Let's speedrun this shit."
A faint glow appeared in the distance, shaping itself into a massive battlefield. Stone walls. Open plains. Banners fluttering. And in front of me—soldiers. Dozens at first. Shields up, swords gleaming, armor polished like they were about to be poster boys for 'Generic Medieval Army Monthly.'
Their commander, a guy with way too much eyeliner, pointed at me. His voice trembled with both fear and false courage.
"Kill that monster!"
They charged.
Swords clashed against my leather armor, but instead of pain, I felt… tickles. Imagine a toddler smacking you with a pool noodle. That was the vibe.
I sighed. "Oh yeah… stats sealed. Great. Guess we're doing this the hard way."
I swung my stone club, and the first line of soldiers crumpled like breadsticks under a steamroller. Limbs, shields, and egos shattered alike.
XP farming time.
---
Wave After Wave
The system didn't waste time. After the first group, another formed. Not dozens—hundreds.
"Form ranks!" someone yelled, trying to sound epic.
A man stepped out, chest puffed up like he was auditioning for a villain role. "Be honored, beast! For I, Sir Voldemort Van Helsing, shall be your executioner!"
I froze mid-swing. "…bro. What?"
I actually rubbed my visor. "Voldemort… Van Helsing? Pick a franchise, my guy. You can't just mash random edgy names and expect me to take you seriously."
He raised his sword dramatically, inhaling like he was about to monologue.
Splat.
One swing. Instant roadkill. His final word?
"Ah."
I stared at the corpse. "…Really? That's it? Not even a cool death line? Man, you disappoint me."
The waves kept scaling. Every batch was ten times larger.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Millions.
Each with the same recycled one-liners.
Fat guy: "You shall fall before my blade!"
Bald guy: "Prepare to die, monster!"
Skinny guy: "I am your doom!"
Ugly guy: "For the realm!"
I dragged my club like a janitor cleaning up trash. "Do y'all copy-paste your lines from the same scriptwriter? Switch it up, man. At least throw in a 'Yo mama' joke."
Still… not all were clowns.
One scarred veteran with a beard so thick it could tank sword slashes actually pushed me back. I grinned. Finally—something resembling a challenge. For about thirty seconds. Then he, too, got flattened.
But then—
---
First Death
BOOM.
A cannonball erased my torso.
I blinked. "The fuck?"
These weren't medieval cannons. They were modern, rapid-fire, magic-boosted artillery. Imagine a howitzer cosplaying as a wizard. That's what hit me.
Fifteen rounds later, one finally splattered my head across the dirt.
Respawn.
And again.
And again.
100 times. 1,000 times. 10,000 times.
Every method of death you can imagine? I lived it. Arrows in the eyes. Spears through my ribs. Burned alive. Drowned in tar. Vaporized by railguns. Crushed under stampedes. Even got assassinated mid-respawn once.
I was basically the system's crash-test dummy.
---
Ten Thousand Deaths Later
The system finally threw me a bone.
[Title Acquired: Friend of Death.]
Buffs Unlocked:
+40% all stats when facing 5+ enemies
+50% recovery rate
+30% crit chance
I blinked at the glowing screen. "…Finally. Took you long enough, asshole."
I scrolled my list of titles. Too many to count. [Punching Bag of Destiny]. [That Guy Who Just Won't Die]. [Respawn Speedrunner]. Whatever.
Then the real grind began.
Wave after wave, corpses piled higher than skyscrapers. I slaughtered until my arms burned, until my sanity frayed. At some point, I lost track.
Until—
[Congratulations. Host has slain 125 trillion foes.]
[Advancing to Final Battlefield.]
Light engulfed me.
---
The Heavenly Knights
I materialized on a plain soaked with blood.
In front of me: an army. No—THE army. Rows upon rows of armored legends. Their presence alone made the air heavier. These weren't fodder. They were killers.
[Host has encountered the Heavenly Knight Order. Good luck.]
A grin cracked my face. Finally.
"Now this… this is worth my time."
Their commander raised his blade. "CHARGE!!"
Tens of thousands surged forward. Their formation flawless, movements sharp like they were one giant organism.
I swung my club. Each arc of destruction erased hundreds of lives. Ground cracked. Blood misted the air.
And yet… they didn't falter.
---
Sir Gilbert
From their ranks, one stepped out.
He wasn't flashy. No glowing armor. No edgy one-liners. Just steel eyes, steady breathing, and an aura that made my instincts scream.
"Be honored, beast," he said, voice like granite. "For I, Sir Gilbert, Commander of the Heavenly Knights, shall be your opponent."
I tightened my grip. This one… wasn't a joke.
His aura erupted. His knights followed suit, their collective power pressing against me like a tidal wave.
"Finally," I muttered. "A fight that matters."
---
Years of War
We clashed.
His spearhead formation struck like lightning. Coordinated stabs aimed for my vital points. Arrows blotted the sky, turning daylight into a storm of death. Traps exploded beneath my feet.
I died.
Over and over.
But every death taught me. Every kill fed me.
I learned to predict spear thrusts by the twitch of a knight's shoulder.
I learned to counter mass arrow barrages by spinning my club into a hurricane wall.
I learned to track Gilbert's footsteps even in the chaos, his killing intent like a beacon.
100,000 deaths later, I could dismantle entire units with a flick of my wrist.
Yet Gilbert… Gilbert remained.
Every time we fought, he adapted. He read me as much as I read him. His sword clashed with my club, shockwaves ripping the battlefield apart.
CLANG!
Our weapons met again. Sparks. Sweat. Blood.
His eyes burned into mine. "You are no monster. You are a warrior."
I grinned through cracked lips. "Finally, someone gets it."
---
The Fight That Never Ends
For what felt like decades inside this twisted trial, we fought.
Me versus him.
My endless resurrections against his undying will.
Neither yielding.
Neither backing down.
And deep down, I knew—this was only the beginning.
Because beyond Gilbert, beyond the Heavenly Knights, beyond this battlefield… lay a world where even a thousand-meter giant like me was just "human-sized."
And if this was the warm-up?
The real story hadn't even started