The second march to the battlefield felt shorter.
It wasn't.
Eiden simply knew where it ended.
Same spear. Same warped shaft. Same Armor biting into his shoulders.
Even the mud felt familiar—thick, reluctant, eager to drag boots under.
The soldier beside him cracked his neck.
"First time?" the man asked.
Last life, Eiden hadn't answered.
This time he did.
"Yeah."
"Don't worry," the soldier said. "You only panic for the first few minutes."
Eiden said nothing.
He already had.
They crested the ridge.
The battlefield opened below—mud-slicked earth, smoke hanging low, human ranks barely holding formation.
Across the field, the demon army advanced in perfect synchronization.
Shield wall.
Horn signal.
Measured pace.
Last time, he had stared.
Last time, someone shoved him forward—
Three.
Two—
He stepped sideways.
A body stumbled into the space he would have occupied.
The demon spear pierced that man cleanly through the stomach.
The sound was identical to his memory.
A soft, final exhale.
Eiden's throat tightened.
That was supposed to be me.
The clash erupted.
Metal screamed. Men shouted.
Someone slipped and vanished under boots.
Move when they move.
Stop when they stop.
Be smaller than the chaos.
A blade swung high.
He ducked before it reached him.
The soldier behind him didn't.
The scream cut short.
Eiden's breath came uneven.
This is what surviving looks like.
It didn't feel heroic.
It felt like stepping out of someone else's place in line.
A horn sounded.
Retreat.
Last time, he hadn't even registered it.
Now he moved immediately, backing uphill with the others.
A demon shield clipped his shoulder; he stumbled but stayed upright.
They reached the ridge.
The demons stopped cleanly and reformed without chasing.
Professional.
The humans collapsed into scattered clusters of exhaustion.
Eiden bent over, hands on his knees.
Alive.
Longer than before.
That should have felt like victory.
Instead, it felt like standing on borrowed seconds.
His head throbbed faintly.
Not from impact.
From strain.
The memory of his death pressed against him like a second skull.
Thoughts came a fraction slower than they should. Sounds lagged half a beat behind movement.
Sleep deprivation.
He hadn't died in this loop yet, but the rewind still clung to him.
Half a second late is still late.
A wounded soldier lay nearby, clutching his side.
"Help—" the man rasped.
Eiden froze.
In the first life, he hadn't survived long enough to see this part.
The after.
The quiet bleeding between battles.
He stepped toward the man—then hesitated.
If the line collapses again…
If I get caught out of position…
A flash of memory struck him—
Mud.
Heat.
The spear inside him.
He forced himself forward anyway.
He dragged the wounded soldier toward a medic.
The mud resisted with each step.
"Over here!" Eiden shouted.
The medic rushed over.
"Press there!"
Eiden obeyed, hands slick and shaking.
The wound was deep.
The soldier's breathing grew wet.
Eiden swallowed hard.
Not mine.
Not mine.
The medic worked quickly—cloth, pressure, binding.
The soldier stopped shaking.
Stopped breathing.
Eiden stared at the open eyes.
Alive moments ago.
Now still.
The medic didn't look up.
"Next time," he said flatly, "don't hesitate."
Eiden stepped back slowly.
He had hesitated.
Even knowing the future, he hesitated.
A shadow fell over him.
"You moved early."
He looked up.
A woman stood there, Armor cleaner than most, stance steady even in mud.
A mercenary crest marked her shoulder.
Short dark hair. Sharp eyes.
Rynn.
He hadn't met her in the first life.
"You didn't freeze," she said. "That's rare."
"I did," he replied quietly. "Just faster."
Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer than necessary.
"Stay near the canter next push. Edges collapse first."
He already knew.
But hearing it from someone else made it real.
A horn sounded.
Advance.
He repositioned toward the middle of the formation.
Less glory.
More bodies between him and death.
The clash came again.
He stepped back before a shield bash connected.
Pivoted when a blade swept low.
Not skilled.
Not clean.
Just informed.
The demon line shifted.
Slightly.
Different angle.
Different pressure.
His stomach tightened.
That hadn't happened before.
Another horn pattern cut across the field.
Unfamiliar.
The right flank reacted too slowly.
The demons pivoted harder.
The human line buckled inward.
Something changed.
The world wasn't repeating exactly.
It was adjusting.
A demon broke through the right side and cut toward the canter.
Toward him.
Different Armor from before.
Different eyes.
Same calm evaluation.
The blade came fast.
He reacted.
Not fast enough.
Steel sliced across his ribs instead of entering his stomach.
Pain flared hot and immediate.
He staggered back, breath leaving him in a sharp gasp.
Alive.
Still alive.
A soldier shoved him behind the line.
"Fall back!"
He obeyed.
They retreated to the ridge again.
Eiden dropped to one knee.
The world tilted.
His thoughts blurred for a moment.
Not from blood loss.
From strain.
For half a second, he didn't understand where he was.
That half second terrified him more than the wound.
If I die again…
How much slower will I be next time?
The medic bound his side quickly.
"You'll live," the man muttered.
For now.
Rynn crouched beside him.
"You adapt fast," she said.
"Feels like guessing," he replied.
She studied him.
"Most don't guess right twice."
A third horn sounded.
Another advance.
Eiden closed his eyes briefly.
Same day.
Same save point.
If he dies now—
He returns to the summoning chamber.
Loses this progress.
Loses Rynn's recognition.
Loses the extra seconds earned.
He stood.
The world wavered, then steadied.
His head pounded harder now.
Thoughts misaligning slightly with motion.
He gripped the spear.
Canter.
Move.
Don't freeze.
Remember.
They advanced.
The clash struck again.
He ducked under a swing he expected—
But something followed it.
A second blade from the opposite side.
He hadn't seen that before.
The soldier beside him fell in two broken movements.
Blood sprayed across Eiden's face.
Hot.
Real.
The demon who struck did not look at the fallen man.
He looked at Eiden.
Directly.
Not random.
Not incidental.
Intentional.
The demon's head tilted slightly.
Assessing.
Recognition flickered in those dark eyes.
Eiden's breath stalled.
That's impossible.
The demon stepped forward.
The battlefield noise dulled around him.
His thoughts lagged.
Half a second.
The demon moved inside that delay.
Steel descended toward his throat—
And Eiden realized something far worse than dying.
The world wasn't just reacting.
It was learning.