Wheezing, Martin almost didn’t notice the bus driver’s call for all students to depart. As he got off and tried to walk to the small building in front of him, the events from last night kept playing in his mind.

The knife, sharp and red, being ripped out of his throat. The serrated edge looking even nastier in the moonlight. The knife, plunging towards his brain-

‘Stop,’ he angrily thought to himself. He could feel himself stumbling to the right, heading into the forest, away from all this.

Happy thoughts. The time he got his computer. His first win at a game of Uno. The moment when he found out he could use magic-

A serrated edge. Designed for ripping away chunks of flesh when the dagger was pulled out. Blood, flowing from his veins as the-

“ENOUGH!”

The receptionist frowned. She thought she had heard something. It … sounded like muddled shouting? ‘Oh, dear. That’s not good.’ She got up and opened the door, looking outside.

There was nothing there.

Martin leaned against the tree, panting. He had sprinted all the way around the school, into the forest right behind.

Death … hurt.

Well, really, the process of being killed hurt, and not just physically. It … just felt wrong that his life could have been taken away, just like that. Life should be harder to snuff out. All it took was one knife. All it took was one sharp object to enter his throat, ending him. If he hadn’t had the time loop, everything he had worked for, to live a real life, would have been for naught.

His hopes, dreams, ambitions, ended just because he saw something he wasn’t supposed to.

Because he was definitely not supposed to see the ghosters, teleporting around as they did. He wasn’t supposed to be able to use magic. He wasn’t supposed to be able to go back in fucking time. This was unfair. He didn’t even do anything. He had stayed still, done nothing, nothing at all, to warrant this. His only crime was seeing them. And for that, he paid with his life.

This is bullshit.

The fear from his death was slowly fading away, being replaced by intense anger. Just because they didn’t want to be seen, they killed him. Snuffed out his existence. He had done nothing wrong. He hadn’t even spoken before that damn knife-

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Red, slick with blood, the knife withdrew from his throat. The ghoster holding the blade, indifferent to the suffering he had caused, stabbed again, aiming for his head-

-had done that. Had killed him.

Why?

For what reason was he dead?

He bore witness to magic.

For that, he died.

Unfair.

These people operated above the law, seeing how easily they had killed him. They were strong, and he was weak. That was why he died. He was weak. The law only matters in a society of equals, where it could be enforced.

He was definitely not equal to those killers.

Why?

Because they could speak magic words when no one else can?

Unfair.

If they could speak magic words, he could too.

If he could die, they would too, hallucinations be damned.

Martin slowly walked into the forest.

Last time, he had napped under a tree while waiting for something to happen, and had seen the ghosters because of that. So, it reasonably followed that he would do the same thing.

He picked the same tree as the one before. At least, he thought it was the same. It had the same split in the trunk of the tree, at least 20 meters in the air. He quietly attempted to hide, in the same way he had done before.

The sun slowly moved across the sky.

To Martin, it seemed to be chasing a cloud that was floating in the same direction. It made him so sleepy. The cloud, serenely drifting across the sky without a care in the world. He suppressed a yawn as he fought his eyes, which were trying their hardest to close. Just a little bit of sleep, his body murmured. It’s not like anything is going to happen for a while anyway…

His body went limp as his eyes closed, and all went black.

The knife that had stabbed him, red and gory, flew at his head, guided by the hand holding it. Only this time, it was moving slower. He caught the blade out of the air with reflexes that surprised both assailant and victim, and yanked it free of the ghoster’s hands in the moment of confusion. The ghoster took a step back, confused. Martin smiled, as he spun the dagger around and plunged it into the man’s cranium-

Martin was instantly on high alert, as if he wasn’t sleeping mere moments before. His eyes flew up to the sky, checking the time.

It was almost sunset.

Black shadows materialized over him, as if they hadn’t been there before. The ghosters were assembled all around him. After what seemed like an eternity, he saw the lead ghoster put a finger to his lips.

Finally.

He strained his ears, but couldn’t make out what the lead ghoster had said before he disappeared. One by one, the other ghosters teleported away as well.

Shit.

He’d have to be closer next time.

Speaking of which…

He turned around, staring down the ghoster that was swinging at him with a knife, the source of those hallucinations, his killer, and lifted a palm, whispering, “Astrogarth.”

Glowing white half-shackles, following by chains, erupted from his hands, slamming into his would-be assailant and pinning him to the tree directly behind him.

The ghoster froze with surprise. Then he frantically attempted to escape his imprisonment.

Martin walked closer.

And closer.

Upon close inspection, the ghoster was clearly a human. He had a human-shaped body, and clearly had snow blue eyes. The rest of his body was wrapped in a strange grey cloth, much like a mummy. The ghoster suddenly stopped struggling, as if resigning himself. He stared Martin directly in the eye.

“Telest.”

He disappeared, as Martin whirled around, seeing the knife that had snuffed out his existence flying straight towards his neck. Gone were his thoughts of revenge, as he desperately attempted to duck. It wasn’t enough. He saw the approaching knife, and mentally cursed, knowing he couldn’t avoid it. How could he have been so stupid, knowing the ghoster had a teleportation ability? Did his anger over his death blind him that much? What was he expecting, that the ghoster would just give up?

And for the second time in one day, Martin died, regretting his actions.