Pain shot through Kael's body as he hit the ground hard. His ribs screamed, but they weren't shattered this time.

  Progress.

  The Crystalline Manticore's tail swept overhead, missing him by inches. A dodge that would have been impossible just one loop ago.

  "Got you now!" He thrust Marcus's spear forward, catching the beast in its crystalline shoulder. The C-rank weapon actually penetrated the monster's hide.

  Then everything went wrong.

  The Manticore grew.

  Crystalline plates split and reformed across its body, expanding outward as muscle mass doubled. Its dull amber eyes blazed with inner fire.

  Status notifications cascaded across Kael's vision:

  "Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Kael managed.

  A crystalline paw the size of a wagon wheel turned him into paste.

  He woke up staring at his ceiling again.

  Pre-dawn light filtered through his window, painting Auren's ever-present smog in shades of neon purple and gold. Despite the phantom pain echoing through his reconstructed body, grim satisfaction settled in.

  "Progress," he muttered, sitting up. "Finally, some actual progress. Managed to dodge that tail strike, landed a real hit..."

  His expression darkened.

  "Who knew the damn thing could transform? No way it's officially ranked as 'D.' That was at least high C-rank power. Someone in Dungeon Assessment is getting fired." He paused. "You know, if I ever live long enough to file a complaint."

  His status window flickered to life:

  That last part was definitely new. Either that or he was finally cracking. Both seemed equally possible.

  "The spear technique is definitely the right path," he mused, starting his pre-death exercises. "My sword would be useless against those crystal plates even if I had actual talent with it. Can't have [Mana Slash] when your mana control is better suited to lighting birthday candles."

  He glanced at his stats.

  "Two hours until guild hall. Time to make them count."

  His body hit the floor. Push-ups came first as he analyzed his latest death with scientific detachment.

  "Transformation triggers after first real damage. Need to be ready for the speed increase. Need more strength just to survive the patterns." He grunted between reps. "Also need to figure out who thought putting a transforming crystal death cat in an E-rank dungeon was a good idea."

  An hour later, his muscles burned.

  But something was different.

  Subtle changes that wouldn't show in his stats but might mean the difference between death and... slightly delayed death.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  At this point, he'd take it.

  The guild hall scene played out like always. The bet. The shocked faces. The borrowed spear.

  Then something clicked.

  He paused mid-thrust. "Didn't get [Dash] until much later last time. The physical conditioning must have helped."

  The System's concern about his life choices could wait.

  "Impossible," Marcus muttered from the sidelines. "He has the [Swordsman] class. How is he picking up spear forms that quickly?"

  The enforcer's eyes narrowed. "He's different from this morning. Stronger. More focused." She crossed her arms, checking her wrist terminal. "Something's not right here. No one improves this fast without some kind of temporal anomaly or divine intervention."

  Kael nearly dropped the spear.

  She couldn't know. Just coincidence.

  He focused on his practice. The spear felt more natural with each move, his muscles remembering deaths that hadn't happened yet.

  "Time's up," the enforcer called. "Everyone, form up!"

  The battle unfolded exactly as before.

  Right until the Manticore opened its maw and unleashed a beam of crystalline energy.

  Kael became very surprised cosmic dust.

  His eyes snapped open. Rage coursed through him.

  "A BEAM ATTACK? Are you SERIOUS?" He sat up, fury radiating from every movement. "A D-rank monster in an E-rank dungeon that can not only transform but has a BEAM ATTACK? What's next, is it going to pull out a sword and start quoting philosophy?"

  His journal appeared in his hands - a habit from loops ago. The paper would reset, but writing helped him think.

  "Seventeen deaths. Let's make them mean something."

  His pen scratched across the page:

  Move Set: Crystal Slash (ranged) - "Because what's a little atomic annihilation between friends?"

  Rending Claws (dash attack) - "Standard issue 'tear the E-rank into ribbons' move."

  Tail Sweep - "The only honest attack in its arsenal. I appreciate that about it."

  Berserker Mode - "Bigger, stronger, but slower. Finally, a silver lining."

  He stopped writing.

  Something clicked.

  "Wait. That's... that's it. Four moves. Seventeen deaths and I've never seen it do anything else." His mind raced. "The beam has that throat glow tell. The claw dash always starts with its right paw. The tail sweep has that crystalline chime..."

  He jumped up.

  "And when it transforms, it gets stronger but slower. I've been running away when I should be pressing the advantage!"

  His status window flickered mockingly:

  But for the first time, those stats didn't seem like a death sentence.

  "It's not about getting stronger," he whispered, a determined smile forming. "It's about knowing how to fight."

  He grimaced immediately. "I'm never saying that ever again. Too cliché. Even for someone stuck in a time loop."

  Pre-dawn light filtered through his window. Two hours until guild hall.

  Two hours to prepare for loop nineteen.

  "You seeing this, you nameless bastard?" Kael called out. "Finally figured out your pet's little tricks. Hope you're enjoying the show."

  Kael's eye twitched. "Oh, fantastic. Now you're actually talking to me? Going to give me some cryptic advice while you're at it? Maybe a riddle? A prophecy about my destiny?"

  "Glad I could provide some amusement," Kael muttered, starting his training routine. "Just you wait. Loop nineteen is going to be a different story entirely. Might even survive long enough to file that complaint about dungeon classifications."

  [The Nameless One observes.]

  [Loop Eighteen: Complete]

  [Death Counter: 17]

  [Pattern Recognition: Achieved]

  [Status: Increasingly Entertaining]

  [Note: Subject's Sarcasm Levels Reaching Critical Mass]

  As Kael prepared for his nineteenth death, he couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere, a god was eating divine popcorn while watching his repeated failures.

  At least he was getting better at dying with style.