The experience of dying, and being resurrected again and again through the time-reversing mechanism of the Time Stone's magic…
It was something I never thought, never dreamed, I would ever feel.
Honestly, just living in another person's body, in another world, was already beyond anything I could have imagined. Not even in my strangest dreams did I ever see something like this.
But now, I am inhabiting the body of Stephen Strange—once a brilliant surgeon, whose hands trembled so badly in the first weeks that he could barely hold a phone without dropping it. And yet, he grew into the Master of the Mystic Arts…
Throwing his life away to halt the advance of the Dark Dimension, pouring body and soul into the fight against Dormammu—with spells, with the powers of the Ope Ope no Mi, with Observation Haki and Armament Haki.
And now, I've already traded away ten lives. Each time, I've managed to endure a little longer. Now I can stretch the battle against Dormammu to two minutes and fifteen seconds before dying—my body crushed, my heart pierced, my brain shattered, or stretched into limp noodles by the process of spaghettification, like matter falling into a black hole.
Dormammu still doesn't realize he's trapped in a time loop. He repeats the same lines, trying to tempt me into joining him. But… there's no way I'll ever yield.
Because I have two promises carved into my soul, etched into my heart, that keep me steady and immune to the temptations of the Lord of Darkness.
The first: a promise to Corazon—that I would be a good person. And my definition of "good" is clear: to protect the world, to shield every life from the Dark Dimension, by any means necessary.
The second: a vow Stephen Strange made to himself, just before losing consciousness as his car plunged into the river—that if he survived, he would change. He would be kinder to everyone. He would stop being arrogant, stop being prideful, stop letting his ego rule him.
That must be why, the moment I awoke in his body, I felt the urge to change myself. That determination still lingers, influencing my own soul—me, a fifteen-year-old boy named Law from North Blue. My spirit fused with his, carrying the same desire: to make this body, this life in this world, into something better.
And to "be kind to everyone" clearly means sacrificing myself, offering my life as the guardian of the gate between the Dark Dimension and Earth, blocking Dormammu from devouring this world.
With these two powerful vows driving me, I can keep fighting!
Round Eleven.
I raise six layers of Seraphim Shields around me. Even though maintaining them drains my focus so much that I can only cast two or three strong spells within ten seconds before needing to pause and steady my breathing, the Cloak of Levitation eases the burden of dodging Dormammu's unpredictable attacks.
My Observation Haki has sharpened. I can now sense Dormammu's will, feel where he's directing his dark energy. But predicting how he'll shape it, or from which direction he'll strike, is still nearly impossible. He might gather energy to my right, but then shift it across dimensions and hurl a barrage of spears from behind or the left.
It's like groping for a needle in the ocean—something nearly invisible even with eyes wide open, lost in sand, swept into coral crevices by the tide. And now I'm searching blindfolded.
Still, it's good training. By releasing waves of magic outward like a radar, I refine both my detection and my Haki.
Corazon once said: training Haki under pressure, when body and mind are desperate to survive, makes you grow by leaps and bounds. Half-hearted practice is like giving a child sandpaper to sharpen a knife—it takes forever. But real battle is like handing that knife to a master sharpener with a whetstone.
Each fight with Dormammu has wrung out every ounce of potential from Stephen's body and my soul as Law. But the truth remains: a human under fifty years old, against a being who has ruled the Dark Dimension for millennia…
It's like a ten-centimeter frog at the bottom of a ten-meter well. No matter how hard it jumps, it will never reach the rim.
But I don't give up. Even if I can't leap out in one bound, I'll climb, inch by inch, clinging to the walls. Even if I fall, I'll grit my teeth and climb again. My finish line is not the rim of the well—it's forcing Dormammu to yield to my persistence, binding him in this time loop.
If that means letting him abandon Earth to conquer other worlds instead… so be it.
It's like passing the burden to other living beings. But as a child of Earth, I must protect my own world first. Someday, when I'm stronger, I'll face Dormammu fully. If I can.
The Crimson Bands of Cyttorak!
Red energy from the Cyttorak Dimension bursts from my hands, denser and stronger than before—thirty percent more potent than in my first life in this dungeon. My mastery has grown with each death.
"Unbelievable. You wield Cyttorak's power at a level equal to ten years of training in your world," Dormammu sneers, his face bound tight like a parcel ready for delivery.
"I've practiced a lot," I reply curtly, squeezing the bands tighter, hoping to crush his head. Deep down, I know it's impossible—but it's worth testing if I can hurt him.
"No matter how much you train, you'll never defeat me! Hahaha!"
His evil laughter echoes as black spears—like the one that pierced my heart in my first death—manifest by the hundreds, raining down.
Even with six Seraphim Shields, I have to release the Crimson Bands and focus everything on defense. But it's like spears stabbing into an eggshell. No matter how thick, humans always find a hammer to crack it open.
"Ugh… even with full power, the Seraphim Shields can only hold this long? Still… this time I lasted two minutes and eighteen seconds. Three seconds longer than before. That's progress. Next round, if the black spear rain comes again, I'll use the Image of Ikonn to create a decoy, turn my real body to stone, then swap with Shambles to another spot. But all of that has to happen in a split second…
Alright then. Next round. Life number twelve… fight!