Pain was routine.
That was the first thing I learned in the Dragon Pit.
Not how to fight.Not how to survive.Not even how to beg.
Pain.
The chains cut into my wrists as I hung above the arena floor, suspended like rotten meat waiting to be thrown away. Below me, the pit stretched into darkness, lit only by torches embedded into black stone walls. The flames flickered against old bloodstains that never fully washed away.
The nobles in the stands laughed.
They always laughed.
"Slave 317!" someone shouted. "Try not to die too fast this time!"
I didn't answer.
They liked it when we screamed.
So I stopped giving them that.
The Dragon Pit was built in layers.
At the top sat the nobles, draped in silk and gold, placing bets on how long we would last.
Below them stood the guards—iron armor, whips at their belts, expressions carved from stone.
And at the very bottom?
Us.
The livestock.
We were ranked even among slaves.
The strong ones were sent to fight each other.
The clever ones were sold elsewhere.
The unlucky ones were fed to dragons.
I was the third category.
Slave No. 317.
Property of the Blackscale Arena.
The guard to my left yanked the chain violently, forcing my head up.
"Look alive," he sneered. "The Overseer is watching."
Of course he was.
He always watched.
The Overseer stood in a private balcony above the arena. Unlike the nobles, he never laughed. He observed.
Measured.
Calculated.
Tall. Broad shoulders. A long black coat embroidered with silver dragon scales.
Rank 5 Hunter.
Executioner of escapees.
I had died by his hand three times.
Once beheaded.
Once burned.
Once crushed under gravity magic until my bones folded inward.
He never rushed.
He never hesitated.
He simply ended problems.
And I was a recurring one.
The first time I died, I thought it was over.
The dragon's fire had melted skin from bone.
I remembered the heat entering my lungs.
I remembered not being able to scream.
Then darkness.
Then—
I woke up here again.
Hanging in chains.
Above the pit.
I thought I was hallucinating.
The second death confirmed it wasn't.
The third made me terrified.
By the fourth, I understood something simple:
Death was not the end for me.
It was a reset.
But only to this moment.
Always this moment.
Chains.
Darkness.
Laughter above.
"Drop him."
The command echoed across the arena.
The guard kicked my ribs before releasing the mechanism.
Just for fun.
The chains unhooked.
For a brief second, I floated.
Then gravity claimed me.
The fall wasn't high enough to kill.
They had calculated that carefully.
Broken bones were fine.
Instant death was not.
I hit the ground hard enough to black out for half a breath.
The impact sent cracks through my spine.
Before I could roll, something shifted in the shadows.
Heavy.
Scaled.
Breathing.
A juvenile fire dragon stepped forward, its body nearly twice my size. Its wings were still underdeveloped, but its claws were not.
The crowd quieted slightly.
Anticipation.
I pushed myself up on shaking arms.
This one again.
Red scales. Scar across the snout. Missing one horn.
It had killed me twice.
The dragon lowered its head.
Sniffed.
Recognized.
Its golden eyes narrowed.
It remembered.
Predators always remember prey that struggles.
I forced myself to stand.
Around the edges of the pit, other slaves were chained to the wall, forced to watch.
That was part of the lesson.
Fear spreads better when observed.
Slave 289 avoided my gaze.
He would be next week's entertainment.
If he lived that long.
The dragon exhaled.
Heat washed over me.
Not full flame yet.
A warning.
The nobles began shouting bets.
"Thirty seconds!"
"A minute!"
"Look at him—he's shaking!"
They were wrong.
I wasn't shaking from fear.
I was exhausted.
From dying.
Over and over.
From remembering every scream.
From feeling my body burn again and again.
There are some things the mind should not survive.
But mine did.
Every time.
I rushed forward.
Not because I thought I could win.
Because running made it chase slower.
I had learned that in death number five.
The dragon swiped.
Claws tore through my chest.
Warmth flooded down my torso.
I staggered but didn't fall.
Not yet.
The crowd roared approval.
Blood made it exciting.
The dragon opened its jaws.
Fire gathered at the back of its throat.
I could see the glow building.
I knew exactly how long it would take.
Three seconds.
I had timed it before.
One—
I stepped closer.
Two—
I grabbed its lower jaw, uselessly trying to push it away.
Three—
Flame.
Fire swallowed me whole.
There is no poetic way to describe being burned alive.
It is not quick.
It is not clean.
It is suffocating.
Skin splits before it melts.
Air becomes knives.
The body tries to inhale and only drinks flame.
I heard the crowd cheering faintly.
He lasted longer this time.
Good show.
My knees collapsed.
Vision blurred.
I fell backward into darkness.
Again.
Silence.
Then—
Cold.
A familiar sensation.
Weightless.
No pain.
No heat.
Just empty black.
I waited.
For the reset.
For the chains.
For the laughter.
I almost hoped this time it wouldn't happen.
That maybe death had finally decided to keep me.
But then—
Light pierced the darkness.
Not torchlight.
Blue.
Sharp.
Artificial.
A voice echoed in the void.
Not from above.
Not from outside.
Inside.
[Anomaly Detected]
The words pulsed in the dark.
I frowned.
That was new.
[Reincarnation Loop Confirmed]
Loop?
[Host Designation: Slave No. 317]
Yes. That part was correct.
[Abnormal Death Count: 8]
Eight.
So I had miscounted.
[Condition Threshold Achieved]
The darkness around me cracked like glass.
Fragments of black fell away.
Behind them—
Lines of code.
Symbols.
Spinning mechanisms of light.
I felt something vast turning.
Watching.
Adjusting.
[System Integrity Compromised]
[Administrative Authority: Missing]
[Fallback Protocol Engaged]
My heartbeat quickened.
This had never happened before.
Every other time, there was only reset.
Pain.
Chains.
Dragon.
Death.
But this—
This was different.
[Initializing…]
The blue light intensified.
I felt weight return to my limbs.
The sound of metal.
The smell of blood.
The distant laughter.
The arena.
I was back.
Hanging in chains.
But the world looked… sharper.
More defined.
As if a veil had lifted.
In front of me—
A translucent blue window flickered into existence.
The guards hadn't noticed yet.
The nobles were still arguing about the previous round.
My breathing became shallow.
The text stabilized.
[Welcome, Host.]
[Hidden Protocol Activated]
[Unique Skill Preparing for Installation…]
The chain jerked as a guard prepared to release me again.
"Smile for the crowd, 317!" he mocked.
I didn't look at him.
I stared at the window.
My mind raced.
This was new.
This was not part of the loop.
Was this why I kept returning?
Was I broken?
Or was the world?
The mechanism clicked.
The chains began to release.
The dragon below shifted in the darkness, unaware.
The Overseer leaned forward slightly from his balcony.
Watching.
Always watching.
The blue window brightened.
Final lines appeared.
[Skill Acquired: ???]
[Name Unlocking…]
[DEVOUR]
The chains detached.
I fell.
And for the first time—
I did not feel despair.