Hugo jolted awake, the memories of his st death clung to him like a suffocating weight. He could still feel the pain in his leg, the burn in his ribs, the helpless rage as Frank bled out in his arms. It didn’t matter what he did. No matter how many times he reset, Frank died.

  But this time, he would do better. When the fight started, he would focus on grabbing a gun as soon as possible. He had to get better at using it. That was his only way forward. The hours passed quickly as they prepped for the battle again. Hugo had long stopped trying to expin to Frank what was coming. It didn’t matter. He would never remember. But that didn’t mean Hugo had stopped trying to change the outcome. When the Encve arrived, he was ready. The fire raged below, casting flickering shadows against the walls as the station shook from the explosion. Screams echoed through the stairwell, and the first Encve soldier stumbled up through the thick smoke, weapon raised. Hugo didn’t hesitate. He swung the axe, killing the first man coming through. His eyes locked onto the pistol strapped to the man’s belt. Without wasting a second, he yanked it free. He had used it in previous loops, but his hands still weren’t steady. Still, he had no choice—he had to learn. This time, he knew what to expect. He had used it before—badly, but he had used it. His grip was steadier. His stance slightly more controlled. The next Encve member burst through the smoke, rifle raised. Hugo raised the pistol and fired. The bullet still went wide, but not as much as st time. The Encve soldier flinched, startled, before charging forward. Hugo fired again, this time hitting the man’s shoulder. The impact wasn’t enough to put him down, but it was something. As the soldier stumbled, Hugo lunged forward, finishing him off with the axe. Progress. Slow. Frustrating. But progress. The fight raged on. The traps took out more men, thinning their numbers. Frank’s rifle cracked through the air, nding every shot with deadly precision. Hugo moved through the battlefield with more awareness than before, dodging attacks he had once taken, nding blows he had previously missed. His body was learning, adapting. And yet… The moment came again. Frank staggered, clutching his stomach, blood seeping through his shirt. Hugo’s heart pounded. No. Not again. He rushed to his side, hands fumbling as he tried to stop the bleeding. “Stay with me, Frank. Just hold on.” Frank let out a sharp, weak chuckle. “Kid, I ain’t gonna—” The light faded from his eyes. Just like before. Hugo’s vision blurred with rage and grief, his breath coming in sharp gasps. He turned, gripping the pistol with white-knuckled fury. The Encve leader stepped forward, burned, bloody, but still standing. He sneered, wiping the blood from his lips. "Still kicking? You must really love losing." Hugo didn’t answer. He raised the pistol and fired. Miss. The leader smirked, stepping closer. Hugo fired again. This time, the bullet grazed the leader’s arm, drawing blood. A small victory, but not enough. The fight was over before it even started. Hugo was too furious to think straight. The leader overpowered him, smming him into the floor, pressing the barrel of his gun to Hugo’s head. “You never had a chance,” the leader murmured before pulling the trigger. Hugo gasped awake. The fire station. The traps. Salem curled up by the barricade. Frank downstairs. Again. His hands trembled as he pressed them to his face, willing the anger away. He was improving. He had sted longer this time. But it didn’t matter. Frank still died. Hugo wiped the sweat from his forehead, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He had to go again. He had to keep trying. The next attempt was better. He grabbed the gun earlier. His shots were slightly more accurate. He managed to nd a clean hit on one of the Encve soldiers, putting him down instantly. But Frank still died. The next time, Hugo adjusted his position, moving differently, avoiding a bullet that had killed him in the previous attempt. He used the traps more effectively, steering the Encve members into them instead of relying purely on force. But Frank still died. Attempt after attempt, Hugo improved. His shots became cleaner. His movements sharper. He anticipated the Encve’s strategies, countering them before they could even act. And yet, no matter what he did… Frank always died. By the tenth reset, Hugo sat on the floor of the fire station before the battle, staring bnkly at his hands. They no longer trembled from fear. Only exhaustion. Frank walked over, standing above him, frowning. “You look like hell.” Hugo let out a weak chuckle. “You have no idea.” Frank snorted, offering him a hand. Hugo hesitated, then took it, letting Frank pull him up. “You ready, kid?” Hugo looked at him, the weight of failure pressing down on his chest like a lead weight. Frank didn’t know. Would never know. Hugo sat at the edge of the second floor, staring down at the ruined cityscape. The sun was starting to set, casting a dull orange glow over the skeletal remains of buildings in the distance. The fire station was eerily quiet, the calm before the inevitable storm. Frank sat a few feet away, cleaning his rifle with slow, practiced movements. He didn’t know what was coming. He never did. Hugo exhaled, rubbing his eyes. He had tried this fight over and over again, and every time, Frank died. It didn’t matter how fast Hugo was, how sharp his aim became, how well he used the traps—they were always overwhelmed. And now, after his twentieth reset, exhaustion settled deep in his bones. Maybe he needed to stop thinking like a soldier. Maybe, for just a little while, he needed to stop trying to win. Frank gnced up from his rifle, raising an eyebrow. “You got something on your mind, kid?” Hugo hesitated. In all these loops, he had never taken the time to just talk to Frank. It had always been about surviving, fighting, making sure they stood a chance. But he realized now that he didn’t really know him—not really. “Why’d you stay in the apartment complex?” Hugo asked, keeping his voice even. “Before all this started.” Frank let out a short huff, as if surprised by the question. He finished assembling his rifle and set it aside before leaning back against the wall. “Didn’t have a reason to go anywhere else,” he said simply. Hugo waited, expecting more, but Frank didn’t eborate. “No family?” Hugo pressed. Frank’s jaw tightened. He was silent for a long moment, then exhaled. “Had a wife. Mary. She passed a year before this whole mess started.” Hugo blinked. He hadn’t expected him to actually answer. “She was the social one. Always wanted to go pces, meet people,” Frank continued, staring off into the distance. “Me? I liked things quiet. Didn’t much care for crowds or new faces.” He paused, then chuckled dryly. “Guess that worked out in the end, huh?” Hugo didn’t know what to say. He had spent so much time focused on fighting, on survival, that he never considered what kind of life Frank had before all this. “You miss her,” Hugo said, not as a question, but as a statement. Frank’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Every damn day.” Silence stretched between them. Hugo had seen Frank die so many times now, but in this moment, he was just a man reminiscing about a life long gone. And Hugo—despite all his resets, all his attempts to change things—could do nothing to save that part of him. For the first time in what felt like forever, Hugo didn’t feel like just another survivor trapped in a loop. He felt like a person again. And for a moment, that mattered more than the fight ahead. Frank let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “What about you, kid? Got someone out there?” Hugo hesitated. He could have lied. Could have brushed it off. But he didn’t. “No,” he admitted. “I used to, I think. But now… it’s just me.” Frank nodded, as if he understood. “Guess we both got no one,” he said. Then, after a beat, he gave Hugo a small smirk. “Except that damn cat of yours.” Hugo let out a breath of ughter, gncing over at Salem, who was curled up on a nearby pile of supplies, his tail flicking zily. “Yeah. Guess I do.” Frank stretched, cracking his neck before standing up. “Alright. That’s enough sentiment for one day. We got a fight to win.” Hugo nodded, feeling something settle in his chest. He knew what was coming. He knew that Frank would die. But for this moment, at least, he wasn’t just trying to save a man he barely knew. He was trying to save a friend. Hugo didn’t know how many times he had pulled the trigger anymore. Each loop blurred into the next, every bullet fired becoming more precise, every movement becoming instinct. He no longer panicked when he aimed. His grip was firm, his stance solid. He could fire, adjust, and fire again before his enemies even had time to react. The first few resets had been sloppy, each shot missing its mark, each wasted bullet costing him precious time. But now? Now, he was a killer. He wasn’t just fighting to survive anymore—he was fighting to win. But no matter how many men he killed, no matter how quickly he cleared the room, Frank still died. It didn’t matter how much faster he got, how many new tactics he tried, or how well he anticipated the Encve’s movements. Frank always took a bullet. Frank always bled out in his arms. Frank always died. By the 42nd attempt, Hugo felt like he was losing his mind. The moment he woke up, he stayed where he was, staring at the ceiling of the fire station. His breathing was steady, controlled, but inside, his thoughts churned with a numb, hollow exhaustion. The weight of every reset pressed down on him, suffocating, inescapable. He had done everything. And he had failed. Hugo pushed himself up, moving through the now-familiar motions. The same preparations. The same checks. The same inevitable cycle that always ended in failure. He found Frank by the window, checking the rifle scope as he always did. “Kid, you look like hell,” Frank muttered without looking up. “You sleep at all?” Hugo hesitated. Then, for the first time in 42 attempts, he answered honestly. “No.” Frank’s brow furrowed slightly. “What’s eating at you?” Hugo exhaled slowly, gripping the strap of his backpack. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Frank snorted. “Try me.” Hugo looked at him. Really looked at him. Then he decided. “I’ve been here before.” Frank raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, no shit. We’ve been holed up here for a couple days.” “No,” Hugo said, shaking his head. “I mean—I’ve done this before. This fight. This exact moment. This conversation.” He swallowed. “Forty-two times.” Frank’s face twitched slightly. “The hell are you talking about?” Hugo’s fingers curled into fists. “Every time I die, I wake up right back here, before the fight starts.” His voice wavered, frustration bleeding through. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve changed how we fight, where we stand, how I move, how I shoot. I’ve gotten better. I’ve killed them faster. I’ve taken out more of them before they even knew we were here. But no matter what I do, Frank…” His throat closed up. “You die. Every single time.” Frank stared at him. His expression unreadable, guarded. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Frank let out a low, humorless chuckle. “That’s one hell of a story, kid.” Hugo’s jaw clenched. “I’m not joking.” Frank exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but maybe you need a break. You been running on fumes for days now—” “I know exactly what’s going to happen,” Hugo cut in sharply. His voice was raw, edged with exhaustion. “In a few hours, the Encve is going to show up. They’re gonna move to the back entrance first, because that’s the easiest way in. We’ll let them get inside before setting off the first trap.” He gestured vaguely to the room. “The ones outside will try to fnk. I’ll kill the first guy coming up the stairs. You’ll take out the second from the window before he even makes it to the door. The tripwire will take out another, but there’ll still be too many. You’ll get hit. You always get hit.” Frank’s lips pressed into a thin line. Hugo kept going. He couldn’t stop now. “I’ve seen you die over and over again,” he said, his voice shaking. “I’ve tried to stop it. I’ve pushed you out of the way. I’ve taken the bullet for you. I’ve thrown myself into the fight faster. I’ve tried running. I’ve tried hiding. Nothing works.” Frank was silent. Hugo exhaled, his body trembling from the weight of it all. “You think I don’t want to just move on? You think I don’t want to just get this over with? But I can’t. I can’t just let you die.” His voice cracked. “Not again.” Frank sighed. He sat down heavily on one of the broken chairs, rubbing his temples like he was nursing a headache. “Damn, kid…” he muttered. Hugo waited. Finally, Frank looked up, his gaze searching, uncertain. “If this is true,” he said slowly, “why tell me now?” Hugo swallowed hard. “Because I don’t know what else to do.” Frank studied him for a long time, as if trying to gauge whether he had finally lost his mind. Then, to Hugo’s surprise, the old man just sighed. “Alright,” he muttered. “Say I believe you. Say you really are stuck in some kind of loop.” Hugo’s heart pounded. Frank leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “Then let me ask you this, kid.” His voice was quiet, serious. “Have you ever asked me if I want to be saved?” Hugo’s breath hitched. Frank held his gaze. “Maybe the reason you can’t save me is because it ain’t meant to happen.” Hugo shook his head. “That’s not—” “I’ve been running from death for longer than you’ve been alive,” Frank said, a sad sort of smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And if this is how I go out—fighting, not rotting away in some forgotten room—then maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” Hugo clenched his fists. “That’s bullshit.” Frank chuckled. “Probably.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, kid. I don’t pretend to understand what you’re going through. But if I really don’t make it… if I never make it…” His voice softened. “Then maybe you gotta figure out what you’re supposed to do next.” Hugo looked away, his chest tight. For so long, he had been consumed with saving Frank. But what if he couldn’t? What if this wasn’t about saving him at all? Frank pushed himself up with a groan. “We got a fight coming. You still gonna try?” Hugo exhaled slowly. Then he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “One more time.”