Chapter 52

  The sound of the morning bell rang.

  "It's earlier than usual," Michael grunted.

  Francis was already out of bed. The Jaguarkin and Pantherkin were dead in his mind, their patterns memorized, their weaknesses catalogued. He'd killed them both in a single loop. Now it was time to find new challenges.

  "Where are you going?" Michael asked, watching Francis dress with mechanical efficiency.

  "Out," Francis replied.

  He was through the door before his brother could respond.

  ***

  The journey to the army camp had become routine. Francis moved through familiar terrain without thinking, his mind already on the battlefield ahead. By late afternoon, he was approaching the military encampment.

  Guards moved to intercept him. Francis drew his knife and drove it into his forearm. The guards recoiled, then stared as golden threads of energy knit his flesh back together.

  "I need to see General Stenson," he said, wiping the blood away. "Tell him someone who can kill Elite beastkin is here."

  The summons came within fifteen minutes as it always did.

  ***

  The war council assembled in the command tent. King Baxter, Queen Auri, General Stenson, and Priscilla. Francis had given this speech enough times that he could recite it in his sleep, his ability to reset upon death, the thousands of loops, his purpose here.

  "He speaks truth," Queen Auri confirmed.

  "What do you need?" Stenson asked.

  "Same as before. Plate armor, enchanted shield, permission to engage your Elite threats." Francis paused. "And information. I've killed the Jaguarkin and Pantherkin in previous loops. I need to know what other Elite beastkin your scouts have reported."

  Stenson's eyebrows rose. "You've killed—" He stopped himself, processing. "Right. Previous loops."

  "Our scouts have reported an Elite Rhinokin near the siege beasts," King Baxter said slowly. "Massive creature, heavily armored, carries a hammer the size of a man. It guards those giant beasts they mount their catapults on. We've lost enough troops trying to get close enough to damage the siege equipment the first few times that we never attempted it again." He shook his head. "If you're looking for a challenge, that one will provide it."

  Francis had seen that Rhinokin before. In the loop where King Baxter had led the final charge, he'd watched the king kill it at great cost to himself. But that loop had reset. None of them remembered it.

  Francis nodded. "Then that's where I'm going."

  ***

  The smiths had his equipment ready by morning. Francis strapped on the plate armor with practiced efficiency, tested the weight of the enchanted shield, and secured his borrowed sword at his hip. The routine was so familiar now that he barely thought about it.

  Jaguarkin and Pantherkin first. Then the Rhinokin.

  He'd use the pair as a warm-up, push his Quick Attack and Flurry a little higher, then move deeper into enemy territory to find the real challenge.

  ***

  The Jaguarkin and Pantherkin died in under ten minutes.

  Francis didn't even take a serious wound. He knew their patterns so intimately now that fighting them felt like sparring against predictable training partners. The Jaguarkin's overhead strikes, the Pantherkin's flanking maneuvers, the coordination between them—all of it was catalogued in his mind, countered before it could become a threat.

  He killed the Jaguarkin with a thrust through its throat, then caught the Pantherkin's desperate charge on his shield and drove his blade through its chest. Two Elite beastkin, dead in the time it would take most soldiers to finish breakfast.

  [ Quick Attack Increased - 56 ]

  [ Flurry Increased - 33 ]

  Good. But not enough.

  Francis cleaned his blade and kept moving. The siege beasts were still far ahead, and he had a Rhinokin to find.

  ***

  The deeper Francis pushed into enemy territory, the thicker the resistance became. Wolfkin packs harried his flanks. Tigerkin warriors challenged him in ones and twos. A group of regular rhinokin tried to pin him in.

  He killed them all.

  His sword was unstoppable. Francis used Quick Attack to close the distance before enemies could react, and Flurry overwhelmed their defenses with rapid strikes. His regeneration kept wounds closing, golden threads working constantly as claws and blades found gaps in his armor. He was so much stronger than when he'd first fought here.

  Then he saw the siege beasts.

  It had been a while since he had seen them, and he once again remembered that they were enormous. Each was easily fifty feet tall, with gray leathery skin and massive spiked trunks. Catapults and ballistae were mounted on their backs, crews of beastkin swarming over the equipment, loading ammunition, adjusting trajectories. Spikes jutted downward from their legs, designed to prevent exactly what Francis intended to do.

  And standing guard at the base of the nearest beast was the Elite Rhinokin.

  Francis stopped moving.

  The creature was massive—easily fifteen feet tall, nearly twice the size of the regular rhinokin he'd killed on his way here. Its hide was covered in thick plates of natural armor that looked harder than steel, and in its hands it held a hammer that must have weighed as much as Francis did. The head of the hammer was the size of a barrel, reinforced with metal bands.

  That's what King Baxter killed in that final loop. That's what nearly took him with it.

  The Rhinokin saw him. Its eyes, small and dark in that massive head, fixed on Francis with an intelligence that surprised him. This was a veteran, a creature that had survived countless battles and killed countless enemies.

  It raised its hammer and bellowed a challenge that shook the ground.

  Francis charged.

  Quick Attack carried him across the distance in a blur, his sword driving toward a gap in the creature's armor near its knee. The Rhinokin's hammer came around in a sweep that would have crushed him into paste, but Francis ducked under it, felt the wind of its passage, and drove his blade home.

  The sword bounced off.

  Not deflected, bounced. The natural armor plating was so thick that his blade couldn't penetrate it, even with a full thrust behind it. Francis barely had time to process that information before the Rhinokin's backswing caught him in the chest.

  The impact sent him flying. His plate armor crumpled inward, ribs cracking, and he hit the ground hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. Pain exploded through his body as his regeneration struggled to address the catastrophic damage.

  The Rhinokin didn't give him time to recover. It crossed the distance between them with terrifying speed, hammer raised for a killing blow.

  Francis rolled. The hammer cratered the ground where he'd been lying, sending up a spray of dirt and stone. He kept rolling as the Rhinokin swung again and again, each impact close enough that he felt the shockwaves through his body.

  His regeneration worked frantically, golden threads flooding his chest, trying to knit bone and repair organs. He got his feet under him and retreated, creating distance, buying time to heal.

  The Rhinokin pursued. It was relentless, its hammer swinging in patterns that Francis couldn't predict, and couldn't read. He'd spent hundreds of deaths learning the Jaguarkin and Pantherkin. He didn't know this creature at all.

  He caught a glancing blow on his shield and the force-redirecting enchantment flared, but even redirected, the impact drove him to his knees. His left arm went numb from the shoulder down.

  Too strong. Can't block it directly.

  Francis tried to circle, tried to find an opening, but the Rhinokin tracked him with that unsettling intelligence. It didn't overextend. It didn't leave gaps. Every swing was measured, controlled, and designed to herd him toward the massive legs of the siege beast, where he'd have no room to maneuver.

  He went for the eyes. Jumping into the air and used Quick Attack, Francis’s sword thrusting at the creature's face, the one part that wasn't covered in armor plating.

  The Rhinokin tilted its head and took the blade on its horn. The impact jarred Francis's arm, and before he could recover, a massive hand closed around his sword arm and squeezed.

  Bones shattered. Francis screamed as his forearm was crushed, his sword falling from nerveless fingers. The Rhinokin lifted him off the ground by his ruined arm, holding him up like a doll, and brought its hammer around.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The last thing Francis saw was the barrel-sized head of that hammer filling his vision.

  ***

  The sound of the morning bell rang.

  "It's earlier than usual," Michael grunted.

  Francis lay still for a moment, processing. The Rhinokin was in a different class than the Jaguarkin and Pantherkin. It was stronger, more durable, and smarter. His sword couldn't penetrate its armor. His shield couldn't fully absorb its blows. And it was fast enough that he couldn't simply avoid it forever.

  Need to find weak points. Joints, maybe. Eyes. Under the arms.

  He dressed and headed south again.

  ***

  Same guards. Same demonstration. Same war council. Same equipment.

  Francis killed the Jaguarkin and Pantherkin in eight minutes this time, then pushed toward the siege beasts with renewed purpose. He had a theory about the Rhinokin's armor—specifically, about the gaps where the plates met at the joints.

  The creature bellowed its challenge as he approached. Francis studied it more carefully this time, noting how the armor plates overlapped at the shoulders, elbows, and knees. There were gaps there—small ones, but still there.

  He didn't charge directly. Instead, he circled, staying at the edge of the Rhinokin's range, forcing it to turn to track him. The creature was patient, but Francis was more patient. He'd spent hundreds of deaths learning enemies. He could spend a few minutes studying this one.

  When the Rhinokin finally committed to an attack, Francis was ready. He dodged the hammer sweep and dashed in low, his sword driving toward the gap at the creature's knee joint.

  The blade sank in. Not deep, maybe an inch, or maybe two, but it was the first wound he'd managed to inflict. The Rhinokin roared in pain and anger.

  There. That's how I hurt it.

  But the Rhinokin adapted. It stopped turning to track him, instead backing toward the massive legs of the siege beast to protect its flanks. When Francis tried to circle, it anticipated the movement and cut him off with hammer swings that forced him to retreat.

  He went for the knee joint again. The Rhinokin was ready. It shifted its weight, closing the gap with its armor plates, and Francis's blade scraped uselessly across hardened hide. The backswing caught him before he could disengage.

  He managed to get his shield up this time. The force-redirecting enchantment absorbed most of the blow, but 'most' still meant his arm went numb and his feet left the ground. He hit hard, rolled, and came up to find the Rhinokin already closing.

  The fight lasted another two minutes. Francis scored one more wound—a shallow cut on the creature's shoulder—before a hammer blow caught him in the hip and shattered his pelvis. He went down and didn't get up.

  The Rhinokin stood over him for a moment, studying him with those intelligent eyes. Then it raised its hammer.

  ***

  The sound of the morning bell rang.

  Francis didn't hear Michael's greeting. He was already cataloguing what he'd learned. The Rhinokin could be wounded at the joints, but it adapted quickly once it understood your tactics. He needed to vary his attacks, keep it guessing, hit different weak points so it couldn't protect them all.

  Same journey. Same guards. Same demonstration. Same council. Same equipment.

  The Jaguarkin and Pantherkin died in seven minutes.

  [ Flurry Increased - 34 ]

  Francis reached the siege beasts and found the Rhinokin waiting. This time, he didn't circle. He charged directly, feinted at the knee, and went for the elbow instead.

  His blade found the gap and sank deep. The Rhinokin's arm spasmed, its grip on the hammer faltering for just a moment. Francis twisted the blade and pulled it free, then dove away from the retaliatory swing.

  The fight became a brutal exchange. Francis darted in and out, targeting joints, accumulating wounds on the creature while it tried to crush him with that massive hammer. His regeneration worked constantly, golden threads closing gashes and mending cracks. He took hits, a glancing blow to the shoulder that dislocated it, a strike to the thigh that cracked the bone, but he kept fighting, kept learning.

  [ Pain Resistance Increased - 68 ]

  [ Strong Bones Increased - 65 ]

  The Rhinokin was bleeding from half a dozen wounds now, its movements slowing as damage accumulated. Francis saw his opening, a moment when the creature's weight shifted to its wounded leg, and committed everything to one attack.

  [ Quick Attack ]

  [ Power Strike ]

  He drove his sword into the gap at the Rhinokin's hip joint and pushed with everything he had.

  The blade sank to the hilt.

  The Rhinokin screamed, a sound of genuine agony that Francis had never heard from it before. It collapsed onto its wounded leg, hammer dropping from its grip, and Francis pulled his blade free to strike again.

  He never got the chance. The Rhinokin's hand shot out and caught him around the torso, lifting him off the ground. Even wounded, it was still impossibly strong. Its grip tightened, and Francis felt his ribs crack, felt his armor crumple inward.

  The Rhinokin pulled him close, those dark eyes boring into his. Then it squeezed.

  Francis's world went red, then black.

  ***

  The sound of the morning bell rang.

  "It's earlier than usual," Michael grunted.

  Francis stared at the ceiling, thinking. He was getting better at wounding it. Perhaps even killing it. One more wound, maybe two, and the Rhinokin would have died be killable. But the creature had enough strength left to take him with it, even with a sword buried in its hip.

  Need to finish it faster. I can't let it grab me.

  He was close. A few more attempts, a few more deaths, and he'd have the Rhinokin's patterns memorized like he had the Jaguarkin and Pantherkin. Then he could move on to the next challenge.

  Francis knew from his previous loops that there were other Elite beastkin in the Southern Kingdom's enemy forces. A serpentkin with deadly venom. Bearkin archers that operated in pairs near the siege beasts. The magical lizardkin that had killed him during that final battle.

  Each one would be a new puzzle to solve. Each one would push his skills higher.

  Francis got out of bed and started dressing.

  ***

  Four more deaths to the Rhinokin.

  Four more trips south, four more demonstrations for guards who didn't know him, four more speeches to a war council that had never heard his story. Four more times killing the Jaguarkin and Pantherkin as a warm-up. Four more brutal fights against that hammer-wielding monster.

  But with each death, Francis learned more. He learned that the Rhinokin favored its right side when attacking. He learned that it would sacrifice its left arm to protect its throat. He learned that if he wounded its legs badly enough, it would drop to all fours and charge like a bull.

  On the fifth attempt, he killed it.

  The fight lasted nearly twenty minutes, an eternity compared to the Jaguarkin and Pantherkin, but Francis emerged victorious. His armor was destroyed, his body covered in wounds that his regeneration was struggling to close, but the Rhinokin lay dead at his feet.

  [ Quick Attack Increased - 57 ]

  [ Power Strike Increased - 64 ]

  [ Guarded Stance Increased - 45 ]

  [ Life Core Channeling Increased - 45 ]

  Francis stood over the creature's corpse, breathing hard, and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He remembered watching King Baxter fight this thing in a previous loop—remembered the king barely surviving the encounter. Now Francis had done it too. Not as cleanly, not without dying multiple times, but he'd done it.

  More to go.

  He collected a trophy, the creature's horn, too distinctive to be mistaken for anything else, and began the long walk back to the command tent. The war council would want to see proof of what he'd accomplished.

  And then he'd ask them what their scouts knew about the other Elite threats.

  ***

  General Stenson turned the horn over in his hands, studying it. "This is from the Elite Rhinokin. The one that guards their siege beasts."

  "It took me five attempts," Francis said. "That thing hits harder than anything I've fought."

  "Five deaths to kill one of their most dangerous creatures." Stenson set the horn down. "That's remarkable."

  "It's progress." Francis looked at the king. "What else have your scouts reported?"

  King Baxter exchanged a glance with Stenson. "There's been reports of a serpentkin in their eastern ranks. Our scouts say it's venomous. The soldiers who've encountered it don't survive long enough to give detailed reports. Fast, too. Faster than anything that size has a right to be."

  "I'll find it."

  "And there's the lizardkin caster," Priscilla added quietly. "The one that's been devastating our front lines with magic. We've lost thousands of soldiers to its spells."

  Francis nodded slowly. He'd faced that lizardkin before. Well, not really. It had simply killed him during the final battle in a previous loop. Magic required different tactics, different preparation. He'd need to think carefully about how to approach it.

  "One at a time," he said. "I'll work through them all."

  "And your skills?" Stenson asked. "You mentioned Quick Attack and Flurry."

  "Getting closer. Quick Attack is at 57, Flurry at 34. Still a ways from the merge, but I'm making progress."

  "Keep pushing," Stenson said. "Blade Tempest will change everything."

  Francis intended to.

  ***

  Francis stood at the edge of the encampment, looking toward enemy territory. Somewhere out there, the serpentkin waited. And the bearkin archers. And the lizardkin caster.

  Each one would require deaths to learn. Each one would push his skills higher. And when he'd killed them all, when he'd mastered every Elite beastkin the Southern Kingdom had to offer, he'd take that knowledge back to the North.

  The observer was still out there somewhere, still watching, and still adapting. But Francis was adapting too. Growing stronger and learning more.

  Quick Attack to Elite. Flurry to Advanced. Then Blade Tempest.

  And then, maybe, he'd be ready.

  Francis turned back toward the command tent. Tomorrow he'd reset, and the Rhinokin would be alive again. The Jaguarkin and Pantherkin would be alive again. All of his trophies would vanish.

  But his skills would remain. His knowledge would remain. And that was all that mattered.

  The grind continued.