"What is this place? Why am I here? No... no, this can't be possible! I was dead, wasn't I?!"
Raymond's consciousness was trapped in a storm of terrifying questions. All around him was absolute darkness—a cold, endless void with no boundaries, no direction, and no sign of life.
He could neither feel his body nor move a single finger. It was as if he had been thrown into the deepest part of the universe, reduced to a formless existence, a lone specter capable only of thought.
The final seconds of his death were still carved into his mind: the cracking of bones, the armor tearing apart like paper, the warm scent of his own blood, and the most horrifying sight of all—his body being split in half, his organs spilling into the mud. The pain was so real that even without a physical body, his mind screamed in silence.
"Is this the afterlife? Am I going to remain in this darkness forever?" he thought, sinking deeper into despair.
How much time passed was unknown—seconds, or perhaps entire centuries.
Then, from far away, a faint flicker of light appeared. It cut through the darkness like a blade, slowly expanding until it filled his entire perception.
The light was so bright that it became painful for his eyes, which had grown accustomed to absolute darkness.
"What is this?.. Heaven? Did I… end up in heaven after such a terrible death?"
But as the light grew closer and warmed his eyelids, Raymond realized it was nothing more than sunlight.
He suddenly opened his eyes and took a deep, desperate breath, like someone who had just escaped suffocation. Cold air burned his throat.
He was lying there.
He shot up immediately, scanning his surroundings like a madman.
This place… it was the same. The same wide plain, the same green bushes, the same grassy field. This was exactly where the massive bear had mercilessly destroyed him.
Yet now, there was no sign of the beast. No blood. No traces of battle. Everything was clean and peaceful, as if nothing had ever happened.
Raymond was on the verge of losing his mind.
His body trembled uncontrollably as he grabbed his hair and screamed at the top of his lungs:
"WHAT... WAS THAT?! I was dead! I saw it with my own eyes! How... how am I alive again?!"
The pain from that moment was still spinning in his head.
With shaking hands, he lifted his black armor and checked his body. He touched his skin—smooth, intact, and completely unharmed. No wounds. No scars. No pain.
Nothing.
It was as if the horrifying experience had been erased completely.
Still unable to accept reality, he checked himself again and again, pressing his fingers over the exact spot where the beast's claws had torn him apart.
But there was nothing.
"So… was it just a nightmare?" he whispered, stammering.
But when his eyes fell on his pouch and inventory, his voice froze.
No.
If it had been a dream, why were his items still here?
All ten bottles of slime mucus he had obtained, and his coins—they were all intact.
The System had punished him for his plan, yet it had not taken his loot.
Raymond paced in circles like a madman, unable to process the contradiction.
At that moment, a cold, flickering System screen appeared before him:
[Player has used 1 Respawn attempt]
[Remaining attempts: 2/3]
Raymond's eyes widened violently as he read the message. A strangled sound escaped his throat.
"What?! Respawn attempt?! So… I really did die. And if I die just two more times… everything is over?! What the hell kind of ridiculous system is this?!"
He shouted into the empty field, but the System gave no response and simply faded away.
Raymond forced himself to breathe slowly, trying to stabilize his heartbeat. The cold air and the reality of what had just happened slowly brought him back to his senses.
He had no choice but to stay calm. Panic would only lead to death.
"So… I really do have a respawn ability like in a game," he muttered, analyzing the situation with a colder tone.
"But unlike games, my lives are limited. Only three chances… and I already wasted the first one because of a stupid mistake."
He looked toward the distant city walls.
Mark's earlier words now felt like absolute truth: every step here could lead to death, and mistakes were unforgivable.
The System had killed him but left his loot behind—a silent, terrifying warning.
Raymond exhaled sharply and reopened the System interface. The familiar three options appeared:
[Check Status]
[Complete Quests]
[Ask Questions]
This time, he didn't hesitate. He selected the third option—[Ask Questions].
As soon as the System switched to communication mode, Raymond clenched his teeth and asked:
"Why didn't the System warn me earlier that what I was about to do was a violation? Why didn't it stop me before I even started?!"
The blue screen flickered, and a cold response appeared:
[The System is not obligated to warn players about incorrect actions or rule violations in advance. The System only provides warnings when the player is in immediate danger or when life-threatening conditions are detected.]
Raymond's expression darkened even further as he read it. Anger boiled in his veins.
"What kind of absurd system is this?!" he shouted.
The System ignored his rage and displayed its standard description:
[This System is designed to assist players in rapid growth through special quests.]
"Then listen to me," Raymond said, his gaze sharpening, voice turning cold and controlled.
"Who is behind this System? Who controls it?!"
The screen flickered for a few seconds, as if searching for data.
Then a short, cold answer appeared:
[No answer found.]
That final response broke the last restraint in Raymond's mind. He punched the glowing screen with all his strength, but his fist passed straight through the hologram.
The System flickered once more and disappeared entirely.
Raymond stood there in silence, slowly lowering his clenched hand.
Then he turned toward the city gates.
Behind him lay the field of his death—no longer just a battlefield, but a place carrying a terrifying secret: death itself had not been final.
He returned to the city and walked straight toward the Player's Guild.
The guild hall was still crowded as before. He approached the registration counter.
The receptionist greeted him with the same polished smile.
"Good day, respected Player! Welcome to the Guild!"
Raymond did not look into her eyes. He had already realized she was nothing more than a system-controlled construct.
Without a word, he placed the ten glass bottles onto the counter.
"Can I sell these to the guild?" he asked calmly.
The receptionist examined them and replied in the same emotionless tone:
"Of course. Each bottle is worth 10 copper coins. That makes a total of 1 silver coin. Do you accept?"
Raymond nodded.
One silver coin was transferred to him. His total became 9 silver coins.
Without another word, he left the guild.
Outside, the sun was slowly sinking beneath the horizon. The sky had turned deep red, and evening shadows were spreading across the city.
He returned to his rented inn room.
Inside, it was empty. Mark was still nowhere to be seen.
Raymond locked the door and sat on the edge of the bed.
The image of his death replayed again and again in his mind—the bear's claws, the tearing of his body, the warmth of blood, the cold void afterward. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it again.
"I died… I really died…" he whispered into the empty room.
His body trembled with exhaustion.
Without even changing his clothes, he collapsed onto the bed.
System rules, respawn limits, and the uncertainty of tomorrow pressed down on him.
Fatigue and emotional collapse finally overtook him.
Raymond soon drifted into a deep, heavy sleep.