The city of Valenhall was beautiful at night, in that "trying too hard to impress" kind of way.
Gas lamps lined the cobblestone streets of the Upper District, where nobles lived in mansions that could house fifty families but only held three people and their servants. The Middle District was more practical—shops, taverns, the occasional brothel trying to look respectable. And the Lower District, where I lived, was all cramped houses and cracked streets, the kind of place where dreams came to die quietly.
The Celestial Academy sat on the eastern hill, overlooking everything like a pompous guardian. White marble towers that caught the moonlight, making the whole structure glow. Pretentious, but effective.
Beyond the city walls lay the Thornwood Forest—dense, dark, and full of things that wanted to eat you. And somewhere in that forest, hidden by centuries of neglect and aggressive vegetation, was the Old Shrine of Kaelith.
Nobody came here anymore. The god Kaelith had been forgotten after the Third Divine War, his followers scattered, his name erased from official records. But the shrine remained, covered in moss and silence.
Perfect place for secrets.
I arrived at 11:45 PM, early because I needed to prepare. The shrine looked exactly as I remembered from seventy-three different timelines: a circular stone structure, partially collapsed, with pillars that had once been carved with divine scripture now worn smooth by time and weather. The altar in the center was cracked, stained with centuries of rain and bird droppings.
Romantic, really.
I stepped into the center of the shrine, feeling the residual divine energy that still clung to this place. Weak, but present. Gods didn't truly die; they just faded until someone remembered them.
"Alright," I muttered, rolling my shoulders. "Let's see if this body can handle what I need it to."
I closed my eyes, reaching deep inside myself.
In a normal person, mana sat in the core—a small reservoir of energy located roughly where the solar plexus was. You cultivated it through meditation, expanded it through training, and used it through force of will.
My mana core was different.
127 deaths. 127 regressions. Each one had left a mark, a scar, a fragment of power that refused to fade. My core wasn't a reservoir anymore. It was an ocean, compressed into a space the size of a marble. An ocean that wanted to explode outward, that strained against my control every second of every day.
I'd learned to suppress it. Had to. Otherwise, people would sense the sheer wrongness of my existence.
But here, alone, I could let it breathe.
I released the first seal.
Power erupted from my body like a physical force, creating a shockwave that blasted outward. The grass within twenty feet flattened. The moss on the stones vaporized. The air itself seemed to warp, shimmering with excess energy.
My body screamed. Sixteen-year-old muscles and bones trying to contain the power of someone who'd fought gods. Pain lanced through every nerve.
"Fuck," I gasped, dropping to one knee. "Forgot how much this hurts in a young body."
I pushed through the pain, standing slowly. Mana crackled around me, visible as purple-black lightning that arced between my fingers and danced along my skin.
"Better," I muttered. "But not enough."
I reached deeper, past the first seal, past the second, to the place where I kept my greatest shame and my greatest strength.
The Knights.
In Loop 84, I'd reached the pinnacle of power. I'd become not just strong, but transcendent. And in my desperation to save a world that was already doomed, I'd done something forbidden.
I'd split my soul.
Three pieces, given form and purpose. Three knights, each one a fragment of my power and personality, each one carrying a portion of my 127 lifetimes of experience.
The ritual had nearly killed me. Should have killed me. But I'd survived, and so had they—my perfect soldiers, my ultimate weapons, my greatest regret.
When I died in that loop and regressed, I'd thought they were gone.
I was wrong.
They'd regressed with me, sleeping in my soul, waiting to be called.
"I know you're awake," I said quietly. "I can feel you. Judging me. Mocking me. Wondering when I'll stop being a coward and summon you."
The air in front of me rippled.
"Well?" I spread my arms. "Here I am. Let's get this reunion over with."
Three forms materialized, condensing from shadow and mana, each one kneeling before me.
**The First Knight: Mordain, the Unyielding.**
Seven feet tall, clad in black armor that seemed to absorb light. A massive greatsword strapped to his back, easily six feet long and probably weighing two hundred pounds. His helmet covered his face completely, but I could feel his gaze—cold, analytical, merciless.
He represented my tactical mind. My ability to plan, to calculate, to make the hard decisions. Every strategy I'd learned across 127 loops, compressed into one being.
**The Second Knight: Selene, the Phantom.**
She looked human, mostly. Five and a half feet, dressed in dark leather armor that seemed to shift and flow like liquid shadow. Twin daggers at her hips, a bow across her back. Her face was covered by a mask that showed only her eyes—bright silver, like moonlight on water.
She was my adaptability. My survival instinct. Every dirty trick, every backdoor, every exploit I'd discovered. She could kill a man fifty different ways and make each one look like an accident.
**The Third Knight: Azrael, the Breaker.**
He was the smallest, barely six feet, but something about him made the air itself feel heavy. No visible armor, just a simple black robe. No visible weapons, but his hands crackled with raw destructive energy—the kind of power that didn't just kill, but unmade things.
He was my rage. My frustration. My despair. Every time I'd wanted to burn the world down rather than save it. Every moment of "fuck it, let it all end." Pure, concentrated destruction.
"Master," Mordain spoke first, his voice deep and resonant. "You've kept us waiting."
"127 loops," Selene added, her voice like silk over steel. "Sleeping in your soul. Do you know how boring that is?"
"I could feel you suffering," Azrael said quietly. His voice was soft, almost gentle. The most dangerous kind. "Dying again and again. And you never called us. Why?"
"Because you're a mistake," I said bluntly. "A desperate gambit that worked once and cost me everything. I regressed, you came with me, and now I'm stuck with three fragments of my soul walking around judging my life choices."
"We don't judge," Mordain said. "We observe."
"Same thing."
"Is it?" Selene tilted her head. "You've spent 127 loops trying to be the hero. Trying to save everyone. Trying to be good. How's that working out?"
"I'm alive. The world's still spinning. Good enough."
"You're alive," Azrael agreed. "But are you living?"
I hated that they were right. Hated that they could see through me so easily. Of course they could—they were me. The parts of me I tried to suppress.
"I didn't summon you for therapy," I said. "I summoned you to make a point."
"To whom?" Mordain asked.
"To whoever shows up tonight. Two people know about this meeting. One claims she can help me escape destiny. The other wants to know my secrets. Either way, I need them to understand something."
"That you're dangerous," Selene guessed.
"That I'm done playing games," I corrected. "That if they push me, if they try to force me down the hero's path again, I'll push back. And when I push back..." I gestured to the three of them. "Well. You get the idea."
"You're bluffing," Azrael said. "You won't hurt them."
"I know. You know. They don't know. That's the point of a bluff."
Mordain stood, his armor creaking. "The princess approaches. From the south. She's alone but armed. Hidden dagger in her left boot, another at her lower back."
"The anomaly is already here," Selene added, melting into shadows. "Watching from the eastern tree line. She's been here for twenty minutes."
"Should I kill them?" Azrael asked hopefully.
"No, you psychopath. Go back to being intimidating and silent."
He shrugged, settling into a meditative stance. Power continued to crackle around his hands.
I heard footsteps. Saw Sarah emerge from the tree line, slightly out of breath, her eyes widening as she took in the scene.
Me, standing in the center of a ruined shrine, mana crackling around my body like a living thing. Three armored figures kneeling around me like I was some kind of dark lord.
"Holy shit," she breathed.
"Good evening, Your Highness," I said casually. "You're late. Midnight was two minutes ago."
"I—what—who are they?" She pointed at the knights, her hand trembling slightly.
"My insurance policy. Don't worry about them."
"Don't worry about the—there are three heavily armed individuals surrounding you and you're glowing with enough mana to level a city block!"
"Am I?" I looked down at myself. "Huh. Yeah, I should probably dial that back."
I pulled the power in, resealing it layer by layer. The lightning faded. The pressure in the air eased. My knights remained, silent and watchful.
"Better?"
"No! Nothing about this is better! What's happening? Who are you really?"
"That," came Luna's voice from the shadows, "is exactly what I'd like to know."
She stepped into the shrine, completely calm despite the situation. If anything, she looked amused.
"Nice show," she said to me. "Very dramatic. The kneeling knights are a good touch. Really sells the 'mysterious powerful being' vibe."
"I thought so." I gestured for them both to come closer. "Since you're both here, let's make this efficient. Sarah wants answers. Luna wants something from me. And I want both of you to understand exactly what you're dealing with before we go any further."
They approached cautiously, stopping about ten feet away. Smart. That was outside my immediate striking range—if I were a normal person.
"First question," Luna said. "Those three. What are they?"
"Pieces of my soul given form and will. My knights. My soldiers. My shame." I glanced at them. "Say hello to the nice ladies."
"Your Highness," Mordain inclined his head toward Sarah. "Lady Anomaly," he nodded to Luna.
"Charmed," Selene purred from the shadows, now perched on top of a pillar somehow.
Azrael just stared, his hands still crackling with destructive energy.
"You split your soul," Luna said flatly. "That's... that's forbidden magic. Ancient magic. The kind that drove the Archmagus Valdrin mad before he destroyed his entire kingdom."
"Yeah, well, Valdrin was an amateur. He split his soul into seventeen pieces and lost track of twelve of them. I only did three, and I know exactly where they are." I tapped my chest. "Right here. They don't exist independently. They're extensions of me. My power, my knowledge, my skills, all neatly packaged into convenient warrior forms."
"That's insane," Sarah whispered.
"That's Tuesday for me, sweetheart." I turned to face them fully. "Now. My turn for questions. Sarah, you found records of a Marcus Vale who died three years ago. How?"
She pulled out a folder from her bag. Always prepared, this one. "Academy archives. There's a memorial hall for fallen heroes. Your name is there. Marcus Vale, graduated top of class ten years ago, died fighting Demon Lord Azkaros three years ago. The dates don't make sense, but the name, the description, even the—" she pulled out a sketch. "Even the face matches."
She held up the drawing.
It was me. Older, scarred, tired. But unmistakably me.
Loop 96. The one time I actually won.
"That's impossible," I said, taking the sketch. "When I regress, everything resets. People forget. Records change. The timeline corrects itself."
"Apparently not completely," Luna said, studying the sketch with interest. "There are scars in time. Places where the regression doesn't quite take. The memorial hall is a divine space, blessed by the God of Remembrance. Maybe that's why the record survived."
"Or maybe the universe is trying to tell me something."
"That you're destined to die fighting the Demon Lord?" Sarah asked quietly.
"That destiny is bullshit and I'm tired of following the script." I handed the sketch back. "Which brings me to you, Luna. You said you could help me escape. How?"
She smiled, that mysterious, infuriating smile. "There's a place. Beyond the edge of the known world. Past the Forsaken Isles, past the Dead Zone, past even the Void Sea. A place where the universe's rules don't apply. Where destiny can't reach."
"Sounds made up."
"It's real. I've been there. It's where anomalies like me come from." She stepped closer, her violet eyes intense. "But getting there requires power. A lot of it. And a key. A specific key that's currently locked in the deepest vault of the Celestial Academy."
"Of course it is," I muttered. "Because nothing is ever easy."
"Wait," Sarah held up her hand. "Before we talk about escaping to mysterious places, can someone explain what 'regression' means? Because I'm still very confused about the whole 'died 127 times' thing."
I looked at her. Really looked at her. This sheltered princess who'd climbed through my window, tracked me to a creepy shrine, and was now standing in front of three literal fragments of my soul asking for explanations.
She deserved the truth. Or at least, a version of it.
"Alright," I said, sitting down on the cracked altar. "Storytime. Once upon a time, there was an idiot named Marcus Vale who got caught in a divine ritual gone wrong. The ritual granted him the ability to regress—to return to a fixed point in time when he dies. That point being his sixteenth birthday. Every time I die, I wake up in my bed, age sixteen, with all my memories intact."
"How many times?" Sarah asked.
"This is loop 128. I've died 127 times. Lived through 127 different versions of the next twelve years. Fought in 127 different wars. Loved and lost more people than I can count." I met her gaze. "In seventy-three of those loops, I knew you. In forty-two of them, you died. In my arms, most times. So forgive me if I'm not enthusiastic about making friends."
She went pale.
"That's..." she started, then stopped. "I don't know what to say to that."
"Say nothing. That's what most people do when faced with uncomfortable truths."
"Does that include me?" Luna asked. "What happened to me in those loops?"
"You weren't there. You're the first genuinely new thing I've encountered in 127 loops. Which means either you're the universe's way of changing the game, or you're something even more dangerous."
"Both," she said cheerfully. "I'm very dangerous. But I'm also your best shot at freedom."
Mordain stepped forward. "Master, her soul signature is unstable. She exists partially in this reality and partially in another. She's telling the truth about being an anomaly, but her intentions are unclear."
"When have anyone's intentions ever been clear?" I stood. "Fine. Let's say I believe you, Luna. Let's say I help you save your sister. Then you help me get this key and escape to your mysterious no-destiny land. What's the catch?"
"The catch," she said slowly, "is that the key is guarded by a Trial. A divine trial that judges the worthy. You'd have to prove yourself."
"Prove myself how?"
"By being honest about who you are. What you've done. What you've sacrificed." Her smile faded. "The Trial of Truth sees everything, Marcus. Every sin, every regret, every dark corner of your soul. Can you face that?"
I laughed. Bitter and sharp. "Lady, I've spent 127 lifetimes running from myself. What's one more confrontation?"
"Then we have a deal?"
I looked at Sarah. "And you? Why are you here? What do you want?"
She straightened, meeting my gaze with surprising determination. "I want to help you. I want to understand you. And I want..." she hesitated. "I want to be someone who matters. Not because of my title or my bloodline. Because of me. And I think... I think being around you will force me to become that person."
"Being around me will get you killed."
"Maybe. But at least I'll die as myself, not as a princess playing pretend."
Damn it. She was sincere. I could see it in her eyes.
I turned to Mordain. "Analysis?"
"The princess is untrained but talented. She could be useful. Or a liability."
"Selene?"
"She's got potential," the shadow knight said from somewhere above us. "Good instincts. Decent stealth for a noble. She climbed to your window without anyone noticing, after all."
"Azrael?"
The destroyer was quiet for a moment. Then: "She reminds me of someone you loved. Loop 112. The mage with silver hair."
"Aria," I said softly.
"Yes. She had that same look. That determination to be more than what she was born as." He tilted his head. "You couldn't save her. Maybe you could save this one."
"I'm not looking to save anyone."
"Liar," all three knights said in unison.
I glared at them. "I hate that you're me."
"We know," Mordain said. "We hate it too."
I turned back to the two women. Sarah, nervous but determined. Luna, calm and calculating.
Two paths. Two choices. Two ways my attempt at escaping could go horribly wrong.
"Fine," I said finally. "Here's the deal. Luna, I'll help you save your sister. In exchange, you help me get that key. Sarah, you can... I don't know, tag along? Try not to die? Learn whatever lessons you think you'll learn?"
"Deal," they both said immediately.
"Great. Now that we've established this terrible idea, let's set some ground rules." I held up one finger. "First: What happens at this shrine stays at this shrine. No one learns about my knights, my power, or my regression ability. Agreed?"
They nodded.
"Second: I'm not a hero. I'm not going to save the world. I'm not going to fulfill some grand destiny. I'm going to help Luna, get the key, and disappear. Anyone who tries to stop me will regret it."
"Understood," Luna said.
"Third: If you get in danger because you followed me, that's your problem. I'm not responsible for your safety."
"Harsh," Sarah muttered.
"Honest," I corrected. "I've watched too many people die trying to follow me. I won't be responsible for more deaths."
"We accept your terms," Luna said. "Now, shall we seal this with a proper contract? A mana oath, perhaps?"
"No oaths. Oaths are how you get trapped." I dispelled the mana around me completely, letting the knights fade back into my soul. "Just... don't make me regret this. Please. I've had enough regrets for several lifetimes."
Sarah stepped forward, extending her hand. "I promise I won't be a burden."
I looked at her hand for a long moment. In forty-two timelines, she'd died. In thirty-one of those, it was because she knew me.
But this wasn't those timelines. This was loop 128. Maybe, just maybe, things could be different.
I shook her hand.
"Welcome to the worst decision of your life, Princess."
She smiled. "Can't be worse than my father's attempt to marry me off to the Duke of Westmarch."
"Oh, you sweet summer child. Give it time."
Luna clapped her hands together. "Excellent! Now, let's discuss the plan. My sister, Celeste, is currently studying at the Academy. She doesn't know about the demon attack yet—it won't happen for six months. But we need to start preparing her now."
"Start?" I frowned. "You want me to train her?"
"Among other things. She needs to be strong enough to survive. And you're the best teacher I could ask for."
"I'm not a teacher."
"You've trained others in past loops, haven't you?"
She had me there. Loop 45, I'd run a combat academy. Loop 72, I'd been a mentor to the hero's party. Loop 98, I'd single-handedly trained the kingdom's entire military.
"Fine. But I'm not going easy on her."
"I wouldn't expect you to." Luna's smile returned. "Oh, and Marcus? One more thing."
"What?"
"Your roommate at the academy. Damien Cross."
"What about him?"
"He's going to try to kill you in the frst week."
I blinked. "Come again?"
"In every timeline where you attended the academy, you and Damien had a... complicated relationship. Sometimes rivals, sometimes friends, sometimes enemies. But in this timeline?" She shrugged. "He's been paid by a third party to eliminate you. They see you as a threat."
"Who?"
"That's what you'll need to find out. But I'd recommend not sleeping too soundly in your dorm room."
"Fantastic. Anything else I should know?"
"Yes, actually." Luna's expression turned serious. "The Demon Lord. Azkaros. He's already moving. Gathering his forces. Building his army. Whatever timeline you're remembering, he's ahead of schedule this time."
My blood ran cold.
"How far ahead?"
"Instead of twelve years? You have eight. Maybe seven if we're unlucky."
Seven years.
Seven years until the world ended.
Seven years until I'd have to face Azkaros again.
Unless I got that key and disappeared first.
"Well," I said, laughing without humor. "Isn't that just perfect."
Sarah looked between us, clearly lost. "I feel like I'm missing important context."
"You are," I told her. "And if you're smart, you'll keep missing it. The more you know, the worse it gets."
"I'm not very smart, apparently."
"No," I agreed. "Neither am I. That's why we're all standing in a creepy shrine at midnight making terrible life choices."
Luna stepped back toward the tree line. "I'll be in touch. The academy starts in three days. Try not to die before then, Marcus."
"No promises."
She vanished into the shadows.
Sarah and I stood there in awkward silence.
"So," she said finally. "That was a lot."
"Yeah."
"Knights made of your soul. Regression. Demon lords. Mysterious anomalies. Just a normal Tuesday for you?"
"Pretty much."
"I'm going to need therapy after this, aren't I?"
"Probably." I started walking toward the forest exit. "Come on. I'll walk you back to wherever you're staying. Wouldn't want you to get eaten by something."
"How chivalrous."
"Don't get used to it."
We walked in silence for a while, following the path back toward Valenhall. The city lights glowed in the distance, warm and inviting. A lie, like most warm and inviting things.
"Marcus?" Sarah said quietly.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you. For trusting me with this. For letting me see the real you."
I didn't have the heart to tell her that she still hadn't seen the real me. That the real me—if such a thing even existed anymore—was buried under 127 lifetimes of scar tissue and survival instincts.
"Don't thank me yet," I said instead. "Wait until you survive the first week."
"Always so pessimistic."
"It's called realism. I've earned it."
We reached the edge of the forest. Sarah's carriage was waiting there, discreet and unmarked. Of course she'd thought ahead.
"Same time tomorrow?" she asked with a slight smile.
"There's no same time tomorrow. This was a one-time thing."
"Right. Of course." She climbed into the carriage, then leaned out the window. "But if there were a same time tomorrow, hypothetically, where would it be?"
Despite myself, I smiled. Just a little.
"The old training grounds behind the academy. Dawn. Bring comfortable clothes. If you're going to tag along on this suicide mission, you need to at least know how not to die immediately."
Her face lit up. "You're going to train me?"
"I'm going to teach you how not to embarrass yourself. Big difference."
"I'll take it!" The carriage started moving. "See you at dawn, Marcus!"
I watched her go, shaking my head.
127 loops, and I still couldn't learn to keep people at arm's length.
"You're getting soft, Master," Mordain's voice echoed in my mind.
"Shut up."
"She's going to die," Azrael added helpfully. "They always die."
"I said shut up."
"But she's cute when she smiles," Selene teased. "You noticed that, didn't you?"
I cut off the mental connection with all three of them.
Being haunted by fragments of your own soul was exhausting.
I made my way back home, slipping through the streets like a ghost. Years of infiltration training across multiple loops made it easy.
Tomorrow, the academy. My roommate who apparently wanted to kill me. A princess who thought she could handle my world. An anomaly with mysterious motives. And a demon lord who was ahead of schedule.
Just another day in the life of a regressor who couldn't stay retired.
"I should've stayed dead," I muttered.
But I hadn't.
And now, for better or worse, loop 128 was officially in motion.