"Please... I'm gonna go crazy before we even finish this training. It's been two weeks already, you goddamn Demon Lord!"

  Zareth smirks, arms crossed. "Two weeks in, and guess what? You're still talking—despite your limbs being torn off and you still bleeding. So I'd say it's working just fine."

  "Ahh, fuck." Everything goes dark.

  And then—just like that—I’m healed again.

  I groan, rubbing my temples. "How long are we gonna keep doing this? This is seriously messing with my head."

  Zareth hums, amused. "Hmm… I suppose your progress has been fast."

  I can feel his grin behind his helmet. "How about a deal?"

  "A deal with a demon? Oh yeah, I should definitely take that, right?!" I snap, my voice dripping with sarcasm. My body still aches from the endless cycle of death and revival, but the frustration outweighs the pain.

  I glare up at him, my breathing ragged. "DO YOU THINK I’M STUPID?" I spit at him, my patience worn thin. The glob of spit lands near his feet, sizzling slightly against the black stone.

  Zareth tilts his head, unimpressed. "Hey… that’s not very nice." He steps forward, his towering figure casting a long shadow over me. "At least hear me out first."

  His tone is almost playful, but I can feel the weight behind his words. This isn’t just a casual conversation. There’s something dangerous in his voice—something that tells me I should listen.

  But do I really have a choice?

  I cross my arms, sighing. "Fine... go on."

  Zareth chuckles, clearly amused by my reluctance. "If you successfully dodge my attack even once, I will—" He lifts his helmet just enough to reveal one of his eyes, its eerie glow cutting through the dim light. He taps his left temple, his clawed finger resting just below his eye. "If you manage that, I'll give you a copy of my eye."

  I freeze. An eye? My mind scrambles to process what he's offering. He’s gonna give me that eye? A Sharingan?!

  I blink, staring at him. "Wait, seriously? That’s it?"

  Zareth’s smirk deepens. "So, what happens if I don’t?"

  "Simple," he says, lowering his helmet back into place. "I'll make you fight my tikbalang. How about that?"

  I frown. "Tik... what?"

  He lets out a low, sinister chuckle. "Oh, you'll see soon enough."

  Something tells me I really don’t want to find out.

  "Now, I'll give you ten tries. Let's start."

  Before I can even process his words, he swings.

  A blur of steel cuts through the air, and for a split second, I see the attack—his blade bending, the trajectory clear in my mind. I can dodge it.

  But my body is too slow.

  SLASH.

  Pain explodes across my torso as I’m sent sprawling backward. Blood drips onto the cold stone floor, my breath hitching from the shock.

  "FUCK, THAT HURTS!" I grit my teeth, forcing myself up. My wounds are already closing, but the pain lingers. "Again!"

  Zareth doesn’t hesitate. Another swing.

  I see it again—clearer this time. I know where it's going, know exactly how to avoid it.

  But my body still can’t keep up.

  SLASH.

  I crash onto my back, gasping. My vision swims, but I force myself to focus. I can do this... I just need to move faster.

  Zareth watches, amused. "Eight more chances. Try not to die too quickly."

  I groan, wiping the blood from my mouth. Yeah, yeah... easier said than done.

  "COME!"

  Another swing? Where is it coming from—the left? The right?

  My eyes dart, trying to track his movement. Shit—!

  A thrust.

  I see it. The blade lunges straight for me, aimed right at my gut. But my body—battered, sluggish, barely holding together—won’t move fast enough. If he had done this earlier, before the pain, before the exhaustion—maybe, maybe I could’ve dodged.

  Fuck!

  THRUST.

  The blade pierces through. Agony erupts in my stomach as the force sends me staggering back. My vision blurs, my knees buckle, and I barely stay conscious as the cold steel pulls away, leaving only searing pain in its wake.

  Zareth tilts his head. "Seven more chances."

  I gasp for air, blood dripping from my lips. I have to move... I have to keep up...

  I clench my fists, forcing myself to stand. "Again."

  Darkness surrounds me, swallowing everything. For a brief moment, there’s nothing—no pain, no sound, just emptiness.

  And then—

  Healed.

  I gasp as my senses snap back, my body resetting as if the last wound never happened. But the phantom pain still lingers in my mind, a cruel reminder of how much I suck at this.

  "AGAIN!" I shout, forcing myself into position.

  Zareth doesn’t hesitate.

  This time, he doesn’t immediately swing. Instead, he takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his heavy boots echoing in the chamber.

  My muscles tense. He’s changing it up.

  A swing? A thrust?

  His blade moves—

  A slash!

  It’s aiming for my legs.

  My eyes widen. I see it. I can dodge it!

  My body reacts. Just before impact, I push off the ground, jumping—

  SLASH.

  I land hard, knees bending to absorb the shock. My chest rises and falls, my breath ragged. Did I…?

  I blink. I don’t feel any pain. No sharp sting, no blood pooling beneath me.

  I glance down—

  And freeze.

  A clean cut runs through my pants, right across my thighs. The fabric hangs loose, barely holding together. But my skin? Completely untouched.

  I look up, heart pounding. "I did it... I dodged!"

  Silence.

  Zareth stares at me, unreadable behind his helmet. Then, after a long pause—

  A slow, amused chuckle.

  "...Hah."

  A shiver runs down my spine.

  Oh, shit.

  Zareth steps forward, his massive frame looming over me like a dark monolith.

  I instinctively take a step back, but the cold stone floor offers no escape. His armored boots click against the ground, each step deliberate, controlled.

  Then—his hand rises.

  Panic surges through me. Shit—

  "DON’T HIT ME!" I throw my arms up, squeezing my eyes shut like a kid about to get scolded.

  Seconds pass. No pain. No impact.

  Cautiously, I peek through my fingers.

  Zareth is still standing there, completely unfazed. With an almost bored expression, he reaches out and effortlessly pushes my hands aside. Before I can react, his palm presses against my face.

  I tense, expecting something—cold, burning, maybe even soul-crushing agony.

  Instead… warmth.

  A strange, gentle heat spreads from his touch, seeping into my skin. It’s not the oppressive, suffocating power I imagined from a Demon Lord. It feels almost… soothing. Like the morning sun on a cold day.

  I blink in confusion. "What…?"

  "There," Zareth says, his tone as casual as if he’d just dusted lint off my shirt. He pulls his hand away and steps back, arms crossing over his chest.

  I slowly lower my hands, still reeling. "Is it… done?"

  His smirk widens slightly. "Check for yourself."

  I hesitate, bringing a hand to my face. The warmth lingers, tingling beneath my fingertips. Something feels different.

  I turn toward a nearby mirror, my breath hitching as I catch my reflection.

  My left eye—

  It’s red.

  Glowing, pulsating with an eerie crimson hue, swirling with a faint, arcane pattern.

  My heart skips a beat. My jaw drops.

  "SHARINGAN!"

  I nearly jump back, pointing at my own face like an idiot.

  Zareth just stares at me, utterly unamused. "Eh?"

  I spin around to face him, excitement buzzing through my veins. "What does this do? Isn’t this, like, an OP item or something?! Am I about to unlock some crazy eye powers? Can I predict attacks now? Copy skills?! Mind control?"

  Zareth squints at me like I just grew a second head. "...What the hell are you yapping about?"

  Zareth crosses his arms, watching my overreaction with mild amusement. "The only thing that eye can do is see through lies, improve your night vision, and enhance your ability to track enemy movements."

  I blink, the initial excitement fading slightly. "Oh."

  Well, that’s… less overpowered than I expected. No time manipulation, no copying skills, no mind control? Still, it’s not bad.

  I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I guess that’s more useful than the skill you gave me…" I glance at him and force a smirk. "Thanks, I guess."

  Zareth raises an eyebrow. "You're welcome, I guess," he mimics, clearly unimpressed.

  I roll my eyes. "Hey, don’t get me wrong, this is cool and all, but I was expecting something more... I don’t know, world-breaking? Maybe a reality-warping eye or some insane magic amplification?*"

  He scoffs. "Be grateful, human. You wouldn’t even last a second with power like that."

  I grumble under my breath, turning back to the mirror, still mesmerized by the eerie glow of my new eye. Maybe it’s not game-breaking, but something tells me this is going to come in handy.

  Without warning, a portal bursts open beside us, swirling with dark energy. The sheer force of it sends a chill down my spine, and before I can stop myself—

  Thud.

  I land on my ass.

  Zareth glances down at me, his expression unreadable. Then, with a smirk, he tilts his head. "Scared?"

  I scowl, quickly scrambling to my feet, brushing the dust off my clothes. "Tch. No. Just— I wasn’t expecting a damn void to rip open next to me!"

  He lets out a low chuckle before turning toward the swirling abyss. "Relax. It’s just my storage." He gestures for me to follow. "Come."

  I hesitate, staring at the portal. The swirling mass of darkness looks anything but safe. My gut tells me this is the kind of thing you step into and never come back from.

  I take a deep breath. Screw it. If he wanted me dead, he had plenty of chances already.

  Steeling myself, I step forward.

  "AHHH! MY EYES!!"

  The moment I step through the portal, a blinding light assaults my vision. I stumble forward, arms flailing as I desperately cover my face.

  "Why the hell is your storage so bright?!" I groan, squinting through my fingers. "I thought this was supposed to be some dark, ominous void or something!"

  Zareth tilts his head, looking completely unfazed. "Is it?"

  I peek through my hands, my vision slowly adjusting. Instead of the shadowy abyss I expected, I find myself standing in an enormous, gleaming white space—like some kind of divine vault.

  "What the—why does this look like a damn angel’s treasury?!"

  Zareth just shrugs. "I like to keep things organized."

  "Now, look around and see if anything catches your eye… only weapons," Zareth says, his tone firm.

  I glance at him, then take in my surroundings. Weapons of all kinds line the walls—swords, spears, axes, daggers, bows—each one radiating a distinct presence. Some are neatly displayed on racks, while others float mid-air, pulsating with energy.

  "Any weapon, huh?" A grin creeps onto my face.

  I step forward, hands brushing over the hilts and handles as I walk past them, trying to decide. A sword? Classic. Daggers? Fast and deadly. A bow? Long-range might be useful. A spear? Good reach.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I stop in front of a rack, tapping my chin. What kind of fighter do I even want to be?

  "Wait, what am I even thinking about?" I shake my head, scoffing at myself. "I should definitely just pick the coolest one!"

  Zareth sighs, arms crossed. "Can you just pick faster? I don’t have all day."

  I shoot him a glare. "Hey, this is a big decision! You can’t just rush the process of choosing my ultimate weapon."

  He tilts his head. "Oh? So you plan on actually surviving long enough to make use of it?"

  I roll my eyes and turn back to the racks. "Yeah, yeah, keep talking, demon lord. We’ll see who’s laughing when I find the perfect weapon and kick your ass with it."

  I scan the endless selection of weapons, eyes darting from one masterpiece to the next. Some of them glow with eerie energy, others hum with restrained power.

  Then, something catches my eye.

  Resting on a stand at the far end of the room is a weapon unlike the others. A long, sleek black blade with jagged crimson veins running along its surface. It pulses—almost like it’s alive.

  I take a step closer, feeling an odd pull toward it. My fingers itch to reach out. "Now this looks badass."

  Zareth hums behind me. "Oh? That one, huh?"

  I pause, narrowing my eyes at him. "What? Is there something wrong with it?"

  He chuckles. "Not wrong, just… interesting. That blade was once wielded by a warrior who slaughtered thousands. A cursed weapon, bound to its wielder’s soul. If you pick it, there's no going back."

  I stare at the blade, heart pounding. Bound to my soul, huh?

  I smirk and grab the hilt. "Sounds perfect."

  The moment my fingers wrap around it, a shock runs through my arm, a deep, guttural whisper echoing in my mind.

  Found you.

  "Heh… Found me? Nah, I found you!" I grin, tightening my grip on the hilt.

  With all my strength, I try to lift the blade—

  …But it doesn’t budge.

  "Huh?" I blink in confusion, then pull harder. Nothing.

  "COME ON!" I plant my feet firmly and try again, veins popping out from my arms. Still, the damn thing won’t move.

  Frustrated, I adjust my grip for one final attempt, but my sweaty hands betray me. The sword slips from my grasp—

  CRASH!

  The sound of shattering ceramic fills the room. I slowly turn my head to see the remains of a once-beautiful vase scattered across the pristine white floor.

  "Uh… was that important?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

  Zareth lets out the longest, most exhausted sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose.

  "Really? Really?" He rubs his temples. "Are all humans this stupid?"

  I shrug. "Hey, in my defense, that thing was way heavier than it looked."

  Zareth mutters something under his breath, probably debating whether killing me now would save him future headaches.

  "Use your fucking eye, moron!" Zareth groans, pointing at me like I’m the dumbest creature he’s ever seen.

  I blink. "My eye? How?"

  "YOUR LEFT EYE! The red one! HOLY—" He cuts himself off, exhaling sharply like he's trying to keep himself from strangling me.

  I pause, processing his words before realization finally clicks. Oh.

  Lifting my left hand, I cover my right eye and focus through my newly acquired demon eye. Immediately, the world shifts. The sword in front of me is no longer just a weapon—it’s alive. I can see faint, glowing threads of energy wrapped around it, binding it to the ground like invisible chains.

  "So that's why I couldn’t lift it…" I mutter.

  Zareth crosses his arms. "Took you long enough."

  I smirk, cracking my knuckles. "Alright then, time for round two."

  This time, I see where to apply force. I grip the hilt, channeling my strength into the gaps between the bindings. The chains resist, but I push through, feeling them strain and crack—

  Then, with a final surge of effort—

  SHINK!

  The sword lifts.

  A pulse of dark energy surges through my arm as the weapon fully detaches from the ground. My heart pounds. The blade is warm in my grip, almost like it's… breathing.

  Zareth watches, intrigued. "Huh. So you’re not completely useless after all."

  I hold up the sword, admiring its wicked design. "Damn right. Now… what’s it called?"

  The moment I ask, a whisper echoes in my mind.

  "Nyxrend."

  I lift the sword, admiring its sleek, menacing design. "Now this is badass."

  I give it a small swing, feeling the weight, the balance—yeah, this thing is dangerous.

  Excited, I shift my foot slightly—

  WHOOSH—

  I immediately slip.

  "SHIT—!"

  Before I can process what’s happening, the blade slices clean through a hanging piece of cloth behind me. The severed fabric flutters to the ground, cut so smoothly it looks like it was done with a laser.

  Zareth just stares at me. Long. Silently. Judging.

  I slowly straighten myself, gripping the sword with both hands as if that was totally intentional. "Uh… yeah. Precision? On point."

  Zareth drags a hand down his face. "Why did I waste a perfectly good eye on you…"

  "Anyway." Zareth claps his hands together—

  And suddenly, the world around me shifts.

  The floor beneath my feet vanishes, replaced by solid black stone. The air is thick, almost heavy, and the sky above is a swirling mass of dark clouds. Jagged mountains stretch into the distance, and eerie torches flicker with blue flames, casting ghostly shadows across the field.

  Zareth's voice booms across the space.

  "Welcome to my training ground!"

  His words echo, bouncing off the massive obsidian walls.

  I take a slow spin, looking around. "Cool! Cool!" I nod approvingly. "Very evil overlord aesthetic. But… uh…" I glance around again. "Isn’t there supposed to be, like… training equipment?"

  Zareth lets out a low chuckle. "You don’t need equipment."

  Something rumbles beneath me.

  I freeze. "Uh—?"

  Then, the ground explodes.

  A massive clawed hand bursts out, followed by a second. The earth cracks and crumbles as a monstrous figure rises—a hulking beast with molten veins glowing beneath its obsidian-black skin. Its eyes, burning with crimson light, lock onto me with pure bloodlust.

  "That—" Zareth points lazily at the creature. "—is your training equipment."

  I gulp. "...Can I get a refund?"

  "Don't worry, he's weaker. Just get a feel for your weapon," Zareth says, his tone casual, as if I didn't just get thrown into a death match.

  "A feel, huh? Bet." I crack my neck and tighten my grip on the sword.

  I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and— just like in the anime— I dash!

  The wind rushes past me, my body moving faster than I expected. The world blurs for a split second before I open my eyes, heart pounding.

  "Woah, I actually dashed." A grin tugs at my lips. "This is sick!"

  Then—

  SWING.

  A massive, clawed arm comes out of nowhere, faster than I can react.

  "Shi—!"

  BOOM!

  The impact sends me flying. My body crashes into the wall with a force that shakes the entire arena, knocking the breath out of my lungs.

  I slump to the ground, groaning. "Okay—ow." My ribs definitely feel bruised, if not cracked.

  Zareth lets out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. "You dashed. Congrats. Too bad you forgot to dodge."

  I cough, pushing myself up onto shaky legs. "Noted."

  The monster snarls, molten veins pulsing as it turns toward me again. Its crimson eyes gleam with a hunger that tells me one thing—it’s not done yet.

  I tighten my grip on the sword, my left eye glowing faintly as I focus.

  "Alright… round two."

  "This time, I'll make use of my eye!" I declare, shutting my right eye to focus entirely on my left.

  I take off, sprinting toward the monster.

  Through my enhanced vision, I see it—its muscles tensing, the telltale shift in its weight. It's gonna slam down!

  I react instantly, sidestepping to the right just as its massive fist crashes into the ground, sending debris flying. Dust clouds my vision, but I don’t hesitate—I grip my sword tightly and swing with all my strength.

  CLANK!

  The impact reverberates up my arms, making them go numb.

  Shit. My eyes widen. "It's harder to slice than I thought."

  The monster barely flinches, its thick, stone-like skin barely scratched. It growls, shifting its focus entirely onto me.

  Zareth scoffs from a distance. "Yeah, no shit. Maybe try aiming instead of just swinging like an idiot?"

  I grit my teeth. "Not helping!"

  The monster roars and raises its arm for another attack. I barely have time to react—but this time, I'm ready.

  "A slam again?" I mutter under my breath, watching the monster’s hulking arm rise into the air. Its grotesque muscles bulge, veins pulsating as it prepares to bring down its massive fist.

  I don’t move yet.

  Wait for it…

  The air grows thick with tension. Dust swirls around my feet as the ground trembles beneath me. I tighten my grip on the sword, feeling the weight of it in my hands.

  Wait for the impact. Time the jump.

  SLAM!

  The force of the impact nearly throws me off balance, but I use the shockwave to my advantage. As the earth cracks beneath its fist, I launch myself into the air, propelling forward onto its massive arm.

  Don’t stop moving.

  I sprint up the beast’s arm, my feet barely finding grip on its rough, stone-like skin. The vibrations from its muscles twitching threaten to throw me off, but I push forward, focusing entirely on my footing.

  And then—I see it.

  An opening.

  A vulnerable spot just below its thick, plated neck—where the flesh looks softer, more exposed.

  Now’s my chance!

  I grit my teeth and tighten my grip on the sword.

  Swing.

  SLASH!

  A strange sound fills the air—

  "Zzzzzttt!"

  A crackling sensation rushes through my blade, and suddenly, everything feels different. My arms tingle with an unfamiliar energy. The moment my sword slices through its flesh, it doesn’t just leave a scratch—it cuts through far deeper than I expected.

  I land on the ground with a hard roll, panting. My arms tremble, my hands still gripping the hilt of my sword tightly. My breaths come in ragged gasps.

  I look up—my enhanced eye sharpens the details. The wound on the monster’s neck isn’t just a gash. It’s deep. Far deeper than before. My sword shouldn’t have been able to do that.

  I stare at my own hands, my chest rising and falling rapidly. "What the hell?" I whisper. "Why was that so much stronger?"

  Zareth chuckles from a distance, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh? Looks like you’re finally waking up."

  My gaze snaps to him. "Waking up?" My voice is laced with suspicion. "What did you do?"

  He smirks, his crimson eyes gleaming behind his helmet. "Nothing. That’s all you, kid."

  I clench my fists. My mind races. Did something change? My grip feels tighter, my stance lighter. It’s like my body is adjusting—adapting.

  Then it hits me.

  My eye.

  I blink, focusing on my left eye, the one Zareth had given me. It hums with an odd sensation, as if it’s burning, seeing more than it should.

  I stare at the monster’s wound, then at my sword. Did I just… predict the perfect strike?

  Zareth's grin widens. "Figure it out yet?" He tilts his head mockingly. "That eye isn’t just for decoration, dumbass."

  "Now, your final quest before I send you to the human world," Zareth announces, his voice calm yet firm.

  I blink. Wait, what? "Sorry—what? You're already sending me to the human world?" I stare at him in disbelief. "Aren’t I supposed to be your warrior? You literally dragged me into this mess!"

  "Well, yeah," he shrugs, leaning against his massive sword. "But here’s the thing… being the 14th Demon Lord—" he clears his throat, "ahem the weakest Demon Lord— I don’t exactly have much more to teach you."

  I narrow my eyes. "So, what, you're just throwing me out? Sending me off like some failed experiment?"

  Zareth chuckles. "Not exactly. The human world is where the real fights happen. And honestly, you’ll learn more there than you ever could under me. Plus," he waves a hand dismissively, "if you’re lucky, you might even receive a Divine Blessing."

  That makes me pause. "Divine Blessing?" I repeat, furrowing my brows. "Wait—hold on. Wouldn’t a god sense that you summoned me? Wouldn't they—oh, I don’t know—smite me on sight?"

  "Nah…" Zareth waves off my concerns like they’re nothing. "Gods are arrogant. They only pay attention to people they personally deem important. You're not on their radar yet."

  I cross my arms. "Gee, thanks. That’s reassuring."

  A heavy thud shakes the ground as something drops from above. Dust scatters, and I instinctively step back, gripping my sword.

  Standing before me is a towering creature—half-man, half-horse. Its elongated limbs stretch unnaturally, its powerful, sinewy muscles shifting beneath its dark, almost ethereal skin. A twisted grin spreads across its equine face, sharp fangs glinting in the dim light.

  "A… Tikbalang?" I mutter, my grip tightening.

  "Ah, so you do know your myths," Zareth smirks. "A demon beast from your world, known for tricking travelers and leading them astray. They’re fast, ridiculously strong, and damn hard to kill."

  I swallow hard. In Philippine folklore, Tikbalangs are said to lurk in dense forests and mountain trails, playing cruel tricks on humans, sometimes even driving them insane. Their speed is almost supernatural, and some tales claim they can become invisible or warp reality around them.

  And now, one of those monsters is staring me down.

  "Your final quest," Zareth announces, stepping back as if this is nothing to him, "is to survive against this."

  The Tikbalang lets out a chilling, distorted neigh, its glowing eyes locking onto mine. My heart pounds.

  "...Oh, shit."

  The Tikbalang tilts its head, letting out a guttural, distorted chuckle. Its long, clawed fingers twirl two curved daggers—each blade gleaming under the dim light. The creature's hooves clack against the stone floor as it slowly circles me, exuding an eerie confidence.

  "Daggers? Oh, come on," I mutter, forcing a grin despite the tension tightening my chest. "Why does a monster like that need weapons?"

  "Because I enjoy the hunt," the Tikbalang hisses in a raspy, almost human voice.

  The moment it speaks, my instincts scream at me—move.

  A blur.

  I barely see it shift before my body reacts on its own. My feet push off, dodging just as a dagger slices through the air where my throat was a second ago.

  Fast.

  I hit the ground and roll, feeling my heartbeat hammering in my ears. The Tikbalang lands gracefully where I stood, its red eyes glowing like embers. It flicks the blade, sending a thin line of blood splattering against the floor.

  Wait—blood?

  I glance down. A thin cut burns along my cheek.

  Shit.

  "You dodged the kill shot," Zareth comments from the sidelines. "Good. But it won’t miss twice."

  The Tikbalang lunges again—this time, from my blind spot.

  My left eye flares to life.

  Everything slows down—not to a crawl, but just enough for me to process it. I see the shift in its muscles, the flicker of movement from its dagger-hand.

  It’s aiming for my ribs.

  I pivot. The blade grazes my side instead of skewering me, but before I can counterattack, the other dagger comes sweeping in from below.

  I twist mid-air—too late.

  Slash!

  Pain burns across my arm as the second dagger carves through flesh. I grit my teeth, hitting the ground hard. The impact sends a jolt through my back, knocking the breath out of me.

  "Not bad," the Tikbalang muses, licking the blood off its blade. "Your eye gives you an advantage... but your body is too slow to keep up."

  My fingers curl tighter around my sword. I exhale, forcing my racing heart to steady.

  "You talk a lot for a glorified horse," I taunt, rising to my feet. Blood drips down my arm, but I ignore it. "Let’s see if you can back it up."

  The Tikbalang grins. "Gladly."

  It vanishes again.

  No—not vanishes, just too fast for my normal vision to track.

  But my left eye catches it.

  There—behind me!

  I spin around, raising my sword just in time.

  Clang!

  Sparks fly as our weapons clash. The impact rattles my arms, but I don’t let up. I push forward, twisting my blade to break the lock.

  The Tikbalang doesn’t retreat. Instead, it uses the force to spin mid-air, bringing its second dagger toward my neck in a reverse grip.

  I duck.

  The blade barely misses. But before I can capitalize on the opening, the Tikbalang kicks off the ground and flips over me, landing behind my back.

  My stomach drops.

  I react on instinct—dive forward!

  A dagger whistles past my shoulder, missing by inches.

  I hit the ground and roll, barely avoiding another strike as the Tikbalang comes at me like a relentless storm.

  It’s too fast. I’m reading its movements, seeing the openings, but my body isn’t fast enough to counter.

  Dodge. Duck. Block. Roll.

  I’m managing to keep up—but only barely.

  My breathing turns ragged. My body aches from the cuts and near-misses. The Tikbalang, meanwhile, looks completely unfazed, as if this is just another game.

  Zareth sighs. "If this is all you’ve got, I might as well start digging your grave."

  I grit my teeth. "Shut up."

  There has to be a way.

  I scan the battlefield. There’s nothing to use—no terrain advantage, no distractions. Just me, my sword, and this speedster with knives.

  Think.

  The Tikbalang dashes in for another attack.

  I see it. Left side.

  I pivot—but this time, instead of dodging, I take a gamble.

  I swing my sword before the Tikbalang even reaches me.

  It’s reckless. It’s risky. If I miss, I’m dead.

  But—

  CLANG!

  My blade meets one of its daggers mid-strike, deflecting it just enough for me to shove forward.

  The Tikbalang stumbles back, caught off guard.

  Got you.

  I press the advantage, slashing toward its chest—

  Too slow.

  It catches my sword mid-swing.

  My eyes widen.

  "Predictable," it sneers.

  With monstrous strength, it twists my sword away and drives a knee into my stomach.

  Pain explodes in my gut. My vision flashes white.

  I crash to the ground, coughing up air.

  The Tikbalang looms over me, spinning its daggers. "That was clever. But not enough."

  I wheeze, forcing myself to move. "Screw you—"

  A dagger thrusts down toward my chest.

  Last-second reaction— I yank my sword up, deflecting the blade just enough for it to graze my side instead of piercing my heart.

  But my body is spent.

  I can’t move fast enough. I can’t keep dodging forever.

  The Tikbalang knows it, too.

  "This is over," it whispers, raising its second dagger for the killing blow.

  I watch it, my vision blurring.

  Is this it? Is this where I die?

  No.

  I refuse.

  I won't go down like this.

  I focus everything into my left eye.

  For a split second—everything sharpens.

  I see every single movement of the Tikbalang’s body—the tension in its muscles, the subtle flicker in its stance.

  I see it.

  A tiny opening.

  A split-second chance.

  The moment the dagger plunges down—

  I roll, twist my sword upward, and stab forward.

  A sharp, wet piercing sound.

  Silence.

  The Tikbalang freezes.

  My blade is buried deep in its side.

  For the first time, its expression falters.

  "You—" it gasps.

  I grit my teeth and shove the sword in deeper.

  Blood drips from its mouth as it staggers back, clutching the wound.

  "You… actually…" The Tikbalang exhales sharply. Then, to my shock—

  It grins.

  Zareth claps slowly. "Not bad. Looks like you're not completely useless."

  I fall back onto the ground, gasping for breath. My entire body feels like it's on fire.

  The Tikbalang chuckles weakly, still gripping its wound. "Heh… Not bad, human. Not bad at all."

  I glare at Zareth. "I hate you."

  He just smirks. "Welcome to the real fight, kid."

  "Yeah, well—"

  Heal.

  "A—fuck, I died again."

  I groan as I sit up, the pain from my wounds vanishing instantly. It's my third death in this stupid training session. Every time I get stabbed, crushed, or knocked out, Zareth just waves a hand and yanks me back to life like it's some casual game respawn.

  Zareth sighs, rubbing his temples. "Listen, Elric ‘Eli’ Dela Cruz. Out there, I won’t be able to bring you back to life, so you better not die."

  "Yeah, yeah, I got it." I wave him off, still catching my breath. "No dying. Big deal. Like I have a choice—"

  He glares at me. "You think this is a joke?"

  I freeze.

  The air suddenly feels heavier.

  Zareth walks over, his towering presence making me instinctively tense up. For the first time since I met him, there's no amusement in his crimson eyes—only cold, sharp intensity.

  "You think you can afford to be careless?" His voice is quieter, but heavier. "The human world isn’t some playground where you get infinite retries. You die once—just once—and that’s it. No second chances. No retries. You’re gone."

  I swallow hard.

  I want to crack a joke—something to lighten the mood. But his stare pins me down, forcing me to actually listen.

  "You’ve been fighting monsters that I’ve weakened for you." Zareth continues, his tone cutting like a blade. "But in the real world? No safety nets. No ‘Heal’ after you die. If you hesitate—if you slack off for even a second—you’ll be nothing more than another corpse rotting on a battlefield."

  The weight of his words settles in my chest like a stone.

  For the first time, the reality of my situation truly hits me.

  This isn't a game. This isn't some anime fantasy where the hero always survives because of plot armor.

  If I die… that’s it.

  No respawn. No coming back.

  I exhale, my grip tightening around my sword.

  "Alright," I say, my voice steady. "Then let’s go again."

  Zareth raises an eyebrow. "You sure? Another death might—"

  "I said, let’s go again." I meet his gaze, my stance firm. "If I only have one life, then I better make damn sure I’m strong enough to keep it."

  For a second, he studies me. Then, finally—he smirks.

  "Now that’s more like it."

  He snaps his fingers.

  Another monster drops down.

  This time? No holding back.