The Herald of the End did not belong here.

  In every previous loop—all one hundred and thirteen of them—the first three days of the journey were a slog of predictable bandit ambushes and environmental hazards. The "Herald" was a mid-game boss, a gatekeeper that usually appeared at the gates of the Shattered Citadel, weeks into the quest. Seeing it now, standing by a minor roadside shrine just four hours after leaving the capital, was like seeing a shark in a bathtub.

  "Kaelen?" Valen’s voice was small, shorn of its usual bravado. The squirrel he had been feeding had long since bolted. "That... that looks like a very large man. Is he part of the welcoming committee for the next village?"

  "Stay back, Valen," Kaelen said, his voice a low vibration in his chest.

  He didn't draw his standard-issue steel sword. It would snap like a toothpick against the Herald’s void-forged plate. Instead, he reached into the empty air, his fingers brushing against the shimmering gold text of his new, glitched interface.

  [SOUL-BURNING GAUGE: 1.2%] [WARNING: TEMPORAL ANOMALY DETECTED.] [THE SYSTEM IS ATTEMPTING TO RE-STABILIZE THE NARRATIVE BY ELIMINATING THE OUTLIER.]

  "The Outlier," Kaelen whispered. "That’s me."

  The Herald moved. For a creature that looked like it weighed half a ton, it moved with the terrifying fluidity of spilled ink. Its massive mace, wreathed in violet flames, swung in a horizontal arc that would have turned both Kaelen and the Prince into a fine red mist.

  Kaelen didn't parry. He couldn't. Instead, he used a technique he’d spent forty loops perfecting: [Point-Blank Evasion]. He dropped to his knees, the mace whistling inches above his head with a shockwave that cracked the stone of the shrine behind him.

  "Valen! The woods! Now!" Kaelen roared.

  "But I can help! My 'Radiant Strike' is—"

  "YOUR RADIANT STRIKE IS A FLASHLIGHT, VALEN! RUN!"

  For once, the sheer terror in Kaelen's voice overrode the Prince's ego. Valen turned and scrambled into the brush, his golden greaves clattering noisily.

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  The Herald didn't chase him. Its helmet—a solid piece of iron with no eye slits—tilted toward Kaelen.

  [ATTEMPTING TO FORCE RESET...]

  "Not today," Kaelen grit his teeth. He felt the 1.2% in his Soul-Burn gauge begin to itch. It felt like liquid fire under his skin, a memory of the future where he was a god of the blade. "I’m tired of the stable, you overgrown tin can. I’m tired of the manure. If I’m going back, I’m taking a piece of you with me."

  Kaelen lunged.

  He moved faster than a Level 1 Bodyguard should have been capable of. His internal clock, tuned by a century of resets, told him exactly when the Herald’s recovery frame would end. He stepped into the beast's reach, his dagger—a humble iron tool—aimed for the narrow gap at the Herald’s throat.

  The Herald didn't flinch. It caught Kaelen’s wrist in a gauntlet made of cold stars.

  The sound of Kaelen’s radius snapping was loud in the quiet clearing. He didn't scream. He had felt his bones break in a thousand different ways. Pain was just data now.

  [HEALTH: 12/45] [CRITICAL INJURY: SHATTERED RIGHT ARM]

  "Is that all?" Kaelen wheezed, his eyes burning with a sudden, golden light. "Because I’ve got a hundred years of spite built up, and I only need one percent."

  [SKILL ACTIVATED: SOUL-BURN (OVERCLOCK)] [CONSUMING 1.0% OF THE GAUGE...] [EFFECT: TEMPORAL OVERLAP. ACCESSING LEVEL 99 SUB-ROUTINE FOR 3 SECONDS.]

  The world froze. The violet flames on the Herald’s mace turned into static.

  Kaelen felt his broken arm knit together with phantom energy. For three seconds, he wasn't a Level 1 grunt in the Royal Guard. He was the Sentinel of the End. He didn't use a blade. He used his hand.

  He slammed his palm into the Herald’s chest plate.

  BOOM.

  The shockwave leveled the shrine and stripped the leaves from the trees for fifty yards. The Herald, a creature designed to be invincible at this stage of the "game," flew backward, its chest plate caving in like a crushed soda can. It hit a massive oak tree and shattered into a thousand shards of obsidian.

  Kaelen collapsed, the golden light fading from his eyes. His arm was broken again—worse this time, the bone protruding through the skin. The "Overclock" was a loan, and the interest was paid in flesh.

  [ENEMY DEFEATED: HERALD OF THE END] [LEVEL UP!] [LEVEL UP!] [LEVEL UP!] ... [CURRENT LEVEL: 12] [WARNING: THE VOID KING IS ANGRY.]

  "Kaelen?" Valen peaked out from behind a tree, his crown lopsided. He looked at the smoking crater where the shrine used to be, then at his bloody, broken bodyguard. "Did... did you do that?"

  Kaelen tried to speak, but his throat was full of copper-tasting blood. He looked at the blue screen floating in front of him.

  [NEW OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE THE NIGHT.] [THE LOOP IS NO LONGER STABLE. DEATH MAY BE PERMANENT.]

  Kaelen’s eyes widened. The one thing he had counted on—the safety net of the reset—was fraying.

  "Highness," Kaelen managed to choke out. "Get the... first aid kit. And for the love of the Gods... don't pet any squirrels."

  He passed out before he hit the ground.