Chapter 40

  Another death had come at the hands of the alpha. After three weeks of training in Tules he took the chance to see if he could kill it without dying. The answer was still no.

  Francis was leaving the forge when Kerhi intercepted him. She didn't speak, just gestured for him to follow, and the intensity in her expression told him this wasn't optional. They walked in silence through the camp until they reached a quiet spot near the edge of the settlement, far enough from curious ears.

  "What is this bond I sense between us?" Kerhi asked, turning to face him directly. Her blue eyes held something Francis couldn't quite name—confusion, maybe, or frustration. "Every time I see you looking at me, I can feel it. Like you know me in a way you shouldn't, like we've shared something I can't remember."

  Francis felt his chest tighten. This was the moment he'd been dreading and anticipating in equal measure. He could lie, deflect, or make some excuse. But looking at Kerhi's face, seeing the genuine confusion there, he found he didn't want to.

  "Because we have," Francis said quietly. "Shared something, I mean. Multiple times. You just don't remember."

  Kerhi's hand moved to the axe at her hip, an instinctive action. "Explain what you mean."

  Francis took a breath and began. He told her about the loops, about dying and resetting, about living the same spans of time over and over. He explained how he'd met her dozens of times, how they'd trained together, fought together, how she'd become someone he trusted in timelines she couldn't remember.

  "I know things about you," Francis continued, watching her reaction carefully. "About your fighting style, about the way you think, about what drives you. Not because I've manipulated you or spied on you, but because you've chosen to share those things with me. Multiple times. Each time we meet, we start over, and each time you eventually decide I'm worth trusting."

  Kerhi was quiet for a long moment, her jaw working as she processed what he'd said. "This is madness," she finally said, though her tone suggested she didn't entirely disbelieve him.

  "It is," Francis agreed. "But it's also true."

  "And these conversations we've had, this trust you claim I've given you..." Kerhi's eyes narrowed. "Have you taken advantage of that knowledge? Used what I've told you to manipulate me in these loops ?"

  Francis shook his head firmly. "No. I didn't want to do such a thing. It would be wrong." He met her gaze directly. "We both understand what it's like for others to see us as dangerous, as outsiders. You've been judged for being a woman warrior in a society that respects strength, and I've been judged for being a southerner in the north. I wouldn't do to you what others have done to us."

  Kerhi studied him for several moments, and Francis could see her weighing his words, testing them against what she'd observed. Finally, something in her expression shifted, not quite acceptance but perhaps understanding.

  "I believe you," she said slowly. "Or at least, I believe that you believe what you're saying. And I can feel something between us, something I can't explain." She rolled her shoulders, a gesture Francis had learned meant she was making a decision. "So prove it to me. Show me you can fight the way you claim you've learned to fight."

  "How?"

  A fierce grin spread across Kerhi's face. "We hunt. Together. And we don't hold back."

  ---

  An hour later, Francis found himself standing at the edge of Ursaloth territory with Kerhi beside him. She'd changed into her battle gear—the spiked armor he remembered from their first fight, leather wrappings with metal points on her fists, forearms, knees, and boots. She looked like a weapon given human form, beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.

  "The packs usually hunt in groups of six," Francis said, checking his axes. He'd switched from swords for this hunt, wanting to match Kerhi's style. "Two of us against Ursaloths is suicide by normal standards."

  "Good thing we're not normal," Kerhi replied, her grin widening. "I want to see what you can really do, Southerner. No holding back, no playing it safe. We fight until we can't fight anymore."

  Francis felt something stir in his chest—anticipation mixed with a strange kind of joy. How many loops had it been since he'd fought alongside someone who truly understood what he was capable of? Who didn't need him to hide or pretend to be weaker than he was?

  "Let's go hunting," he said.

  They moved into the territory together, and it didn't take long for the Ursaloths to find them. Two of the massive creatures emerged from behind ice formations, their white fur rippling in the wind. These weren't the alpha or its guards—just regular pack members—but they were still deadly.

  "Left one's mine," Kerhi called out, already moving.

  Francis took the right, his axes coming up as the Ursaloth charged. The beast was fast, faster than most people expected something that large to move, but Francis had fought these creatures hundreds of times. He knew their patterns, their tells, the way they favored their right side on opening attacks.

  [ Quick Attack ]

  [ Power Strike ]

  Both axes bit into the Ursaloth's shoulder, drawing first blood. The creature roared and swung its massive claws, but Francis was already moving, rolling beneath the strike and coming up behind it. His axes found the back of its knee, hamstringing it, and the Ursaloth stumbled.

  A glance toward Kerhi showed her fighting with a savage joy Francis had rarely seen. She wasn't just fighting the Ursaloth—she was dancing with it, weaving between its strikes and landing devastating counters. Her spiked fists found vulnerable points with brutal precision, and each impact drew a roar from the creature.

  Francis finished his opponent with a slash to the throat, then immediately moved to help Kerhi. But she didn't need help. As Francis approached, she ducked under the Ursaloth's swing, drove her spiked knee into its stomach, and followed with an uppercut that snapped the creature's head back. It collapsed, and Kerhi stood over it, breathing hard and grinning like a maniac.

  "More," she said simply.

  Three more Ursaloths arrived, drawn by the sounds of battle. These were more cautious, circling the two fighters and looking for openings. Francis and Kerhi moved instinctively into a back-to-back position, covering each other's blind spots.

  "On your left," Francis called out, sensing movement through his enhanced Perception.

  "I see it," Kerhi replied. "The one behind you is preparing to charge."

  The Ursaloths attacked simultaneously, trying to overwhelm them with coordinated strikes. Francis met his opponent's charge head-on, using [Iron Wall] to absorb the initial impact. The force of the collision would have shattered a normal person's bones, but Francis's enhanced Body stat and defensive skills turned it into something manageable.

  [ Warrior's Resolve ]

  The damage he'd taken fed power back into his body, making him faster and stronger. With the added power his core provided, Francis pressed the attack, his axes moving in patterns he'd refined over hundreds of deaths. The Ursaloth tried to defend, but Francis was relentless, each strike building on the last until the creature's guard crumbled.

  Behind him, he heard Kerhi roar—not in pain but in exultation. She was in a state of berserker rage, her movements becoming increasingly aggressive and powerful. Francis risked a glance back and saw her tear into her opponent with savage efficiency, her spiked fists leaving bloody trails across its white fur.

  The third Ursaloth tried to take advantage of Francis's divided attention, lunging at him from the side. Francis saw it coming through his Battle Sense and twisted, bringing his axes up to intercept. The impact jarred his arms, but he held firm.

  [ Riposte ]

  The defensive move flowed seamlessly into a counter, his axe finding the gap in the Ursaloth's natural armor. The creature howled and staggered back, giving Francis the opening he needed to finish it.

  "Behind you!" Francis shouted to Kerhi.

  She was so lost in her battle fury that she didn't react fast enough. The Ursaloth she'd been fighting swung its massive paw toward her head, a blow that would crush her skull if it connected.

  Francis moved without thinking, throwing himself between Kerhi and the strike. The Ursaloth's claws caught him across the chest, tearing through his armor and into his flesh. Pain exploded through him, but Warrior's Resolve converted it into power, and his Life Core was already working to heal the damage.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "Watch yourself!" Francis growled, finishing the Ursaloth with a brutal overhead strike that split its skull.

  Kerhi blinked, some of the battle fury fading from her eyes as she registered what had just happened. "You—"

  "Later," Francis interrupted. "More coming."

  Two more Ursaloths approached, these ones larger and bearing scars that marked them as experienced fighters. Francis and Kerhi shared a look, and something passed between them. They understood each other and trusted their back to one another. The kind of connection that came from fighting side by side.

  They moved as one, flowing around each other's attacks and covering each other's weaknesses. When Francis overextended on a strike, Kerhi was there to guard him. When she threw herself recklessly at an opponent, Francis intercepted the counterattack. They weren't just fighting together—they were fighting as a unit, each anticipating the other's movements.

  [ Axe Increased - 36 ]

  [ Life Core Channeling Increased - 36 ]

  The notifications appeared as Francis buried his axe in the last Ursaloth's chest. Seven dead in total, their white forms scattered across the frozen ground. Francis was bleeding from a dozen wounds, his armor torn, and his muscles screaming from exertion. But he was grinning, and so was Kerhi.

  She looked wild, blood-spattered, and fierce, her eyes still burning with battle joy. She took a step toward another ice formation, where Francis could sense more Ursaloths gathering.

  Then a roar split the air, deeper and more powerful than any they'd heard so far.

  The alpha.

  The massive creature came toward them along the battlefield of ice. It was easily half as large as some of the others they'd fought. Its scarred hide spoke of countless battles, and its eyes held an intelligence that made Francis's skin crawl. This wasn't just a beast. This was a warrior who'd earned its position through strength and cunning and had claimed life multiple times.

  "Yes," Kerhi breathed, her whole body tensing for another fight. "Finally, a real challenge."

  Francis grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "No. We retreat. Now."

  "What?" Kerhi turned on him, her eyes still wild with battle fury. "We can take it! Together we can—"

  "No, we can't," Francis said firmly. He stepped between her and the alpha, meeting her fierce gaze with his own. "I know what that thing can do, Kerhi. I've fought it before, died to it before. We're not ready, and I will not watch you die today."

  The alpha took a step forward, and Francis pushed more power through his Life Core threads, ready to buy time for their escape if needed.

  "If you don't pull back," Francis said quietly, his eyes never leaving Kerhi's, "I'll never share a moment like this with you again. In any of my loops."

  Something in his tone, or perhaps the absolute certainty in his words, cut through Kerhi's battle fury. The fire in her eyes diminished, replaced by frustration and reluctant acceptance. She nodded once, sharply.

  "Next time," she said. "Next time, we take it down."

  "Next time," Francis agreed.

  They retreated together, moving quickly, putting distance between themselves and the alpha. The massive Ursaloth watched them go, its roar echoing across the frozen landscape, not pursuit, but acknowledgment. A challenge for another day.

  ---

  The healing tent was warm and smelled of herbs. The shaman working on Francis's wounds muttered disapprovingly about reckless southerners, but she worked efficiently, her healing magic knitting torn flesh and mending broken bones. Kerhi sat nearby, her own wounds being tended to, and Francis caught her watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read.

  When the healers finally released them, Kerhi stood and gestured for Francis to follow. They walked through the camp in silence, and Francis realized she was leading him toward the warrior quarters, toward her tent.

  "Kerhi," Francis said carefully. "Are you sure—"

  She laughed, a sound that was part amusement and part something else. "You haven't earned that yet, southerner. But perhaps in time."

  She pushed aside the flap and gestured for him to enter. Francis hesitated for just a moment, then stepped inside.

  The tent was larger than Francis had expected, with furs covering the ground and weapons hung on the support poles. But what caught his attention was the collection of carved figures arranged on a small shelf—animals, warriors, scenes from battles. Each one was detailed and beautiful, clearly the work of someone with great skill and patience.

  "You made these?" Francis asked, genuinely surprised.

  Kerhi moved to stand beside him, her earlier battle fury now completely gone. "Every warrior needs balance," she said softly. "The fight cannot be everything, or it consumes you. The carving reminds me that there is more to life than blood and violence."

  Francis picked up one of the figures—a wolf mid-howl, captured in perfect detail. "These are incredible."

  "My mother taught me," Kerhi said, and Francis heard the weight in those words. "Before she died in battle. She said that warriors who only know how to destroy will eventually destroy themselves. We must also know how to create, how to build, how to see beauty in the world we fight to protect."

  Francis set the wolf down carefully, understanding now why Kerhi had brought him here. This was trust, real trust, not just the camaraderie of battle but the sharing of something personal and precious.

  "Thank you," Francis said. "For showing me this. For trusting me with it."

  Kerhi nodded, then moved to a chest in the corner and pulled out a wineskin. "Drink with me. We earned it after that fight."

  They sat on the furs, passing the wineskin back and forth. The liquid burned as it went down, warming Francis from the inside. For a while, they didn't speak, just sat in comfortable silence and let the tension of battle drain away.

  "The things you told me earlier," Kerhi finally said. "About the loops, about living the same time over and over. I still don't fully understand it, but I believe you. And I think..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "I think that's why I feel this connection to you. Some part of me remembers, even if my mind doesn't."

  "Maybe," Francis said. "Or maybe it's just that in every timeline, you and I recognize something in each other. Kindred spirits, or something like that."

  Kerhi snorted. "Kindred spirits. That's very poetic for a Southerner who just spent the afternoon covered in Ursaloth blood."

  "I contain multitudes," Francis said with a grin.

  They talked as the afternoon faded to evening, sharing stories and observations. Kerhi asked about his life in the south, about Michael, and what drove him to push himself so hard. Francis asked about her training, growing up in the north, and what she wanted beyond battle and glory.

  It was the kind of conversation Francis rarely had anymore—genuine, unguarded, without the weight of his secrets pressing down on every word. Kerhi knew about the loops now, knew about his ability to reset, and instead of fear or suspicion, she'd responded with curiosity and understanding.

  "I should go," Francis finally said as the light began to fade. "

  Kerhi walked him to the tent entrance. "Tomorrow," she said, "we train again. But next time, we push further. I want to see what you're really capable of when you stop holding back."

  "You saw that today," Francis said.

  "No," Kerhi replied, her eyes sharp. "Today I saw you protecting me, fighting cautiously because you were worried about my safety. Tomorrow, I want to see you fight the way you would if you were alone. The way you fight when death doesn't matter."

  Francis felt something cold settle in his stomach. "That's not who I want to be around you."

  "Perhaps not," Kerhi agreed. "But it's who you are, Francis. The loops have made you into something more than just a warrior. You're death that keeps coming back, and I want to see what that really means."

  She was right, Francis realized. He'd been holding back around her, not wanting to reveal the full extent of what hundreds of deaths had done to him. But if Kerhi was going to be someone he could truly trust, she needed to see all of it—the good and the terrifying.

  "Alright," Francis said. "Tomorrow, no holding back."

  Kerhi grinned. "Good. Now go."

  Francis stepped out into the cold evening air, his mind churning with everything that had happened. The battle with the Ursaloths had been exhilarating, but the conversation afterward, the trust Kerhi had shown him—that meant more than any victory in combat.

  He headed back toward the barracks, his body aching pleasantly from exertion and healing, his thoughts already turning to tomorrow. No holding back, Kerhi had said. She wanted to see what he was really capable of.

  Francis smiled to himself in the darkness. If that's what she wanted, that's what he'd show her. And maybe, just maybe, having someone who understood the full weight of what he carried would make the burden a little lighter.

  If over four hundred deaths since he started this new grind had taught him something important, it was that trust was worth more than any skill increase or stat improvement. And with Kerhi knowing his secret, truly knowing it, Francis felt less alone than he had in hundreds of loops.

  Tomorrow would bring more training, more fighting, more deaths. But tonight, Francis had something he hadn't had in a long time—a friend who knew the truth and accepted him anyway.

  That was worth fighting for.

  ?