Awareness filters in, and I force myself to roll out of the way just in time. Something in my body aches, like I've pushed it too hard; I've never started a loop like this before, but I don't have time to think about it.

Two tries left.

I don't bother with Temporal Echo. I can use it — I can sense it in the way the skill resonates, some strange feeling deep in my mind. I can call up the version of myself from the fifth loop and have him take care of the mantis.

But there's no point. I don't even take a step back this time.

I don't need to run if I know exactly what the mantis-monster's weakness is.

Chitin snaps with a crack, and I pull the scythe out of the ground. I have leverage the mantis doesn't — I can twist it out. It swings its other hand at me, and I try to dodge. I still have some memories of how this mantis behaves, how it fights. I have an advantage here.

I don't completely manage it. I'm rattled, and the ache within me is persistent. I don't know what it is, but I have a good guess: the use of Second Wind, straining again and again against the interface's crushing power...

It's a new goal to put on my map. I need to find a way to stop the interface from doing that.

Thankfully, Tough Body handles what little of the attack I do take, and it glances off my arm, leaving only the thin red line of a shallow cut. My movements are almost mechanical — I force myself to climb up the mantis, remind myself that it's a threat, even though my thoughts are still focused on the crows and what was done to them.

The scythe plunges into the mantis monster's eye, and I feel nothing.

[ You have defeated a Broken Horror (Rank E)! +1 Strength credit. +1 Durability credit. +1 Reflex credit. +1 Firmament credit. ]

It's not enough.

The credit rewards are decreasing as I get better, and the mantis is distinctly weaker than its harpy counterparts, even though they're at the same rank. It's still an improvement over using Temporal Echo, I suppose; I don't seem to get the credits for anything my echo does. It's a tool in a fight, but not a replacement.

But even doing this myself, it's not enough. There are twelve harpies, and it took me everything I had just to kill two. I didn't even get a Speed credit for this one, and that's the one I need to bank next.

I take a breath.

The air around me thrums, and I ignore it, calling up the interface map. There's a small line over it now, with small hour markers designating little sections and a green dot slowly moving along it. A red dot at the twelve hour mark is labeled with Lost Harpies (Rank E).

A small hope begins to die when I see it. The raid is going to trigger whether I'm there or not, it seems, and I can't avoid it just by going somewhere else. I'd thought that if the battle was too rough, I could evade the raid entirely, and focus my efforts on getting stronger before I tried again. Or, alternatively, if I could just manage to survive, then I could spend the rest of the loop training, giving myself more time.

But the interface has me cornered. The raid looks like it'll trigger no matter what I do, and it kills me if I fail.

It puts me in a time loop and then it gives me a time limit. There's a certain irony in that.

Just in case, I ask. "Is the Lost Harpies raid triggered by proximity?"

There's a small pause, as if the interface is deciding whether or not it should answer me, and then:

[ Raids are set events that happen based on the amount of time that has passed since the last reset. ]

Figures. I try not to dwell on it, and instead set out towards the Cliffside Crows; the rank on the map still reads as N/A, which tells me that danger rankings don't take raid events into account. Raids are just things that happen.

Just another thing to be wary of.

There's something about this loop that feels... different. I can't pinpoint what it is exactly. Maybe it's just that ache inside of me, that strain from using Second Wind the way I did. I don't think that's what it is, though. Now that I'm thinking about it, my fifth loop felt much the same, and there was a pressure that was missing in my sixth loop that's now back in the seventh.

Nothing is obviously different, though. I keep an eye out as I traverse through the now-familiar forest, a little put off by how easily I've adapted. I try to move quickly — I want to push Speed to at least fifty credits before banking it, and I'm close to that milestone — but I don't want to exhaust myself before the raid, especially since I suspect Second Wind won't be so easy to use again.

Plus, I want to learn whatever it is that old crow said he'd teach me. Maybe he'll know what the deal is with Firmament. He'd said something about how my Firmament was weak...

...I never did ask for his name.

It doesn't take me that long to reach the Cliffside Crows again, though I have to stop and gather some food and drink on the way. My clothing snags on the wood and branches as I do so, and I grimace in irritation — this is going to be a constant problem, since my clothes reset every time I die, and I was wearing pajamas when I fell asleep.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

At least I'm wearing my shoes. I certainly hadn't worn them to bed. A small mercy on the part of the Integrators, perhaps.

I don't thank them for it.

Unlike before, I don't get immediately accosted by the old crow, perhaps because this time it's still early morning when I arrive. The village is considerably more lively, though — instead of the crows all being inside their huts, they're outside, moving around and chattering brightly with one another.

I see a mother washing some laundry in a river that runs off to the east, in a direction I haven't been yet. I see two adults challenging one another off to the left, squawking at each other and dancing around what looks like a small box on the ground. I see some children playing near the center of the village, in what could charitably be called the village square.

They're kicking a ball that looks like it might just be a bunch of forest debris gathered into the rough shape of a sphere; there are twigs, leaves, and no small amount of dirt. It's surprisingly durable, given that fact. I'm surprised it hasn't broken apart already, and that it's light enough to kick at all. Another Firmament enchantment?

And then I notice something, and my breath leaves me for a fraction of a second.

One of them is holding a colorful stick.

I see his face more clearly, now — bright and innocent, with surprisingly large eyes — and I try not to think about his neck snapping as he hits the ground, the crate crashing down over him. I grip the mantis scythe in my hand just a little tighter.

I need... I need to find the old crow.

The moment I step into the village, half the crows around me stop, staring at me curiously. The kids keep playing — they don't seem to care that I'm here — but an older woman approaches me. I assume. I'm not great at identifying crow age.

"You!" she says, and for a moment I worry that she remembers; that she thinks that I failed them. There's no reason that should be the case, but the interface hasn't shown a great respect for the rules of time so far. That worry dissipates when she continues. "Trialgoer?"

"Yes," I confirm. Hopefully the rest of the village shares the old crow's sentiment about helping me.

"Good!" the old woman fluffs her feathers. "Name Mari. Yours?"

"Ethan." I pause for a moment, and she looks at me expectantly. "Pleasure to meet you?"

I don't know how I'm supposed to greet crow elders. Obviously, the greeting isn't exactly right, because she snorts at me and flaps her wings twice, as if agitated. "Bah. Don't know what I expected. Younglings."

"Is there... something else I should have done?" I ask politely. I can't help but feel like I'm wasting time, though — I still remember the fight, the people of this village dying all around me.

But I doubt she's going to be more inclined to help me if I'm rude.

"Bah!" she says again, and this time she waves her wing in a more conciliatory sort of gesture. "Can't expect Trialgoer to know our ways. Come! Tarin wants to meet you!"

I hope Tarin is who I think it is.

She brings me to a very familiar-looking hut — I pay attention to where in the village it is, this time, even though most of the huts look the same. If I have to try to beat the raid a third time, I'll run directly to his hut. Save as much time as I can.

"Well?" Mari squawks at me impatiently, and I realize after a moment she's been waiting for me to enter first. I duck into the entrance of the hut, pushing the folds of cloth away, and she walks in imperiously after me.

There's no sign of the old crow, but Mari doesn't seem to care. "Husband!" she calls, and when there's no response, she sighs.

I feel a familiar thrum, and watch as Mari takes an even deeper breath. I clap my hands over my ears just in time.

"HUSBAND!"

Even with my hands over my ears, the call is loud, and the shockwave pushes me back a bit.

But not a single piece of furniture moves, to my surprise. I blink — they must be far more reinforced than I thought.

A pile of blankets in the corner that I'd assumed to be exactly that suddenly shifts, and I watch a familiar old crow climb out. He makes an irritated sort of grumble. "Was having good sleep," he mutters. "Noisy."

Mari smacks him over the head. "Trialgoer here."

"What?" The old crow — Tarin, I remind myself — looks around wildly. Right past me. "Where?"

Mari sighs. "Eyes."

"Oh." A weaker sense of power, focused on the old crow's eyes, and he looks at me. "Aha! Trialgoer! Come! There is much to learn!"

And then he pauses and frowns. "Wow. Your Firmament weak. Much work needed."

I actually feel a little offended this time, but I shake my head. "We don't have time," I say, and something about the urgency in my voice seems to reach him, because he sharpens a little bit, staring at me. I'm not sure exactly what to tell them — telling them that I've been going back in time might be a little awkward, but for all I know, they already know about the nature of the Trial — so I opt to cut to the heart of the matter. "There's going to be a raid soon. In about..."

I check the map. "Ten hours," I say. It had taken me about two hours to get here, even moving fast. I was less tired than I thought I would be for two hours of exertion — I'd been pushing myself pretty hard. An effect of Tough Body?

"What raid?" Tarin squawks at me, cocking his head. I take a moment to parse his question.

"Harpies. Twelve of them. They come down from the cliff—"

"No. What raid?" Tarin repeats. "Raid is food? Raid is water? Explain!"

"A raid is an attack." I clench my fists, frustration boiling over for a second — not frustration at him, but at the situation. Tarin's talked about their planet being used for the Trial, and about it being an honor, but it's sounding more and more like they haven't really been filled in on the nature of the trial. "Twelve harpies come down and attack the village in ten hours. You need to evacuate your village. I can't protect you all, and you can't fight them off."

Tarin stares at me. "You sure."

It's not a question. I nod, and he narrows his eyes at me. "How you sure?"

"I... I've seen it." How am I supposed to answer that question? "I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's part of my Trial. I have to go through things again and again. I've been here. I've fought. You all — we all died."

If they evacuate, I'll have more time. I only failed the raid when they were all dead. If I just had the time to fight them all...

Maybe if we run. Maybe if we all run, we won't fail the raid. It'll give me the time to train until I can take out all twelve of the harpies, and Tarin can help me train.

As long as I can convince him what I'm saying is true, anyway.