Zeke slew tens of thousands of harpies. Every time he left the plaza, he would walk in a straight line only to somehow end up back in the same place. Each return was met by a repeat of the same situation he’d already overcome. He killed the monster pretending to be Julio and his thuggish henchmen, then overcame the Abby-monster – or rather, his lust for her – and destroyed the harpy queen.

Over and over until he lost track of time.

Or anything else, really. As he sank ever deeper into his most primal state, Zeke fully leaned into his most defining characteristic. He’d never set out to become a battle junky. At first, he’d only fought when absolutely necessary, but as his time in the caves wore on, he’d begun to enjoy it.

The feeling of overcoming an enemy, of winning a battle – that was almost as addictive as the ultimate victory that killing his foes represented. It was more than that, though. The struggle itself was his true drug of choice. It encompassed the back and forth of battle, but it also included the pain – both in terms of what he caused and what was inflicted upon him. He was no masochist, but he couldn’t deny that it held an addictive quality all its own.

Being broken down and remade was the final piece of the puzzle. Taking blows that should have killed him, then forging ahead as his magical abilities rebuilt him – it made him feel like an unstoppable god.

That was the case even before he’d braved the Tempest, and as he found himself in an endless loop fighting his way through the ruins of a long-abandoned elven city, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning into it. Was it magical manipulation of his mind? Maybe. But there was just as much of a chance that it all came from within. After all, he’d never shown much restraint when it came to battle.

The other side of lust never truly tempted him. Even when the rescued Abby-monster was even more blatant with her intentions, Zeke never wavered. He knew the truth, and what’s more, his relationship with the real Abby had never really been based around that sort of thing.

Indeed, back when they’d met, he’d been so starved for attention that he would’ve probably imprinted on just about anyone he stumbled across. Did it help that she was an incredibly attractive woman who looked like she was in his age range? Sure. But that wasn’t the primary motivation for latching onto her as strongly as he had.

After all, spending years alone with nothing but murderous trolls for company had a tendency to foster desperation. He’d needed human companionship, and she was the first person he had met who could meet that need.

The romance came later, but even then, it was more about proximity and habit than lust or love. Both of the latter were present – at least to some degree – but enough time had passed that Zeke could look at the situation without the rose-colored glasses he’d worn back then.

Still, there were moments of temptation. Dozens, in fact – especially as the loop wore on into multiple weeks. At times, he wondered just how far the Abby-monster might go with the illusion. Would she let it go all the way, only to pounce when he let his guard down? And if so, what was the harm in letting it happen? He knew he could kill her. So, why did he continue to resist?

Of course, it was a stupid idea.

Zeke knew that down to his core. Yet, it was still tempting enough that he considered it. And at the end of each consideration, he vowed, “Maybe next time.” Usually, that came even as he ripped the creature apart.

Or crushed it.

Or clubbed it to death.

He killed it in a hundred different ways, revealing its true nature. Yet, each time he returned to the plaza, he was once again tempted to let the temptation win. He overcame it every time, but it grew more difficult with every passing day.

As had been the case in the Plains of the Forgotten, he lost track of the passage of time. He knew weeks had gone by, but after that, it devolved into one long blur of battle and blood. He did take time to rest, and he even discovered that harpy meat tasted a lot like chicken, but with his high endurance and vitality, mundane necessities had become mostly optional. He slept to reset his mind, and he ate to break up the monotony.

In those moments, his thoughts were clearest.

Divorced from constant battle, he was free to try to think of a way to escape the loop. And yet, when the time came to move on, he always ended up returning to his previous pattern. Trek through the ruins, kill harpies, murder the Abby-monster, then rinse and repeat.

At one point, Zeke had thought his love of fighting was tied to the positive reinforcement of gaining levels and new skills. Yet, now that he was at the peak, and there was no Framework rewards waiting at the end of each kill, his battle lust had yet to wane. That led him to realize that, while the Framework’s rewards definitely provided some incentive, the true motivation came from within.

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It had always been in him.

Even going back to when he was a baseball player striving to reach the peak of his game, it had been there. It took a different form, but he’d felt it all the same. It was about domination and winning, not levels and skills.

Or maybe it was all wrapped together, and Zeke was misinterpreting ingrained habits with inherent traits. Regardless, those traits were the only reason he’d managed to survive as long as he had, and he knew that escaping the elven city was never going to happen if he tried to suddenly embrace a doctrine of pacificism.

The very notion was silly.

The world in which he’d been reborn was a violent one. Sure, there were people who’d managed to live lives devoid of combat. Millions – perhaps even billions – of them, in fact. Yet, their weakness – and that was what it was, regardless of morality – made them vulnerable. If they offended the wrong person, then their journey would end.

Zeke had seen that from the very beginning, and it had been cemented in his first visit to civilization back in the Mortal Realm. Beneath its façade of civility, Bastion was a cesspool where the strong oppressed the weak.

Perhaps it wasn’t so different from Earth. Zeke hadn’t had much chance to experience what his home had to offer. Not before he’d died. Yet, even he’d been aware that the rich and powerful exploited those beneath them. That was the nature of humanity. Maybe it was the nature of all sapient beings.

The only cure was to become powerful himself, and then he wouldn’t be subject to their whims. That meant he needed to progress, to escape the loop and move on to the next challenge. Otherwise, he wasn’t any better than all those wretches back in Bastion – the ones who’d been conned into funneling their power to a self-styled goddess who couldn’t have cared less about them.

That seemingly simple realization was what broke the loop. His drive to remain unexploited was stronger than Hell’s machinations.

Zeke blinked.

The ruins themselves looked the same as ever, but they were absolutely covered in blood. The path he’d taken through the city bore a thick carpet of corpses. Most looked like harpies, but there were plenty of other variants as well. Some were human. Elves. Dwarves. Thousands of them, all intermingled with the monsters’ bodies. And Zeke knew he’d killed them all.

With the clarity of having broken free of the illusion, he remembered thinks more clearly. Most of the attacks he’d endured were not attacks at all. Instead, they were people running to him for help. They’d only wanted a savior.

Zeke fell to his knees, distraught at his actions.

But it only took him a few moments to push that aside. Instead, he focused on his previous revelation. If those people had been more powerful, they wouldn’t have needed rescuing. They would have saved themselves.

It was a harsh thought, but it was true.

Still, there was no shortage of guilt that he simply could not escape. The only solace was that they probably weren’t real. It was a scenario created by the current circle of Hell, meant to elicit emotions and break him in an effort to halt his progress.

It was difficult to remember that when he was looking at a three-deep carpet of bloody and rotting corpses that he had created.

Zeke pushed himself to his feet, then set off through the city. At first, he followed his previous path, which made a wide circle through the city. Every inch was covered in bodies that he studiously ignored. Even so, he was forced to push them aside if he wanted to make any progress.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he was back at the plaza, and the same scenario that he’d overcome a thousand times presented itself to him. Without even knowing it, he’d continued the loop. Aware of the illusion or not, his feet had naturally found the same path.

The solution was clear.

If he wanted to escape, he needed to discard his instincts and consciously control his actions. Falling into his normal, trance-like state that often characterized his battles – especially against seemingly endless hordes – was no longer an option.

So, after dealing with the situation in the plaza – again – Zeke moved on. This time, he made a point to avoid taking the same paths. Fortunately – or horrifyingly, if he thought about it – his previous routes were all well marked by plenty of bodies, so they were easily avoided.

Still, the first few times Zeke took that tactic, he still ended up back in the plaza and killing the Abby-monster. But he continued on, maintaining his focus even when his every instinct told him to sink into the trance-like battle lust that had characterized his time in the ruins.

And then, suddenly, he broke through the outskirts of the city. He was climbing a slope before he even realized that things had changed. More importantly, his mind came into sharp focus, and for the first time in a long time, his thoughts were entirely clear.

He was horrified by his previous thoughts as much as his actions. It was one thing to kill tens of thousands of people, but it was something altogether to justify it by saying that it was all okay because they should’ve been stronger. The only solace to be found was that it probably wasn’t real.

But even that wasn’t entirely accurate. Zeke knew that Hell was not devoid of its own population. In all likelihood, those people he’d killed were others who’d attempted the descent. Or maybe they were simply doomed to this circle of Hell due to the sins of their past life. Whatever the case, there was a good chance that they weren’t the figments he’d hoped they were.

Which only served to augment his horror.

Was he always a monster? Or had he been manipulated into becoming one? Did it even matter? Not to the people he’d killed. Certainly, even in the Mortal Realm, he’d left a trail of victims behind. And that had only grown in the Eternal Realm, and by an exponential number. His wars had killed hundreds of thousands. Millions, maybe. And even more had been affected. Certainly, he’d tried to save some of them. He’d taken prisoners when possible. But at the end of the day, because of his choice to go to war – more than once – people had died.

He had to bear the weight of that on his conscience, and his actions in the ruins he’d just left behind were no different. They just added to his burden.

Those thoughts spurred him on, and he climbed the slope to the summit, only to see that he was on the lip of a crater. A vast desert stretched out before him, though it wasn’t a normal landscape. Instead, enormous crystals floated in mid-air, glinting with power and promise.

Zeke trekked forward, intent on investigating.

Or maybe he just wanted to leave the horrors of the ruins behind. Either way, his steps were hurried as he stepped into the arid desert.