Ethan was weak. Since Rewind was more of an auxiliary skill than a battle-ready one, Ethan's strength was no different from that of a typical civilian. No matter what weapon he wielded, the result was always the same—he couldn’t inflict even the slightest scratch on the Last Boss.

However, during one of his cycles, something changed his belief that the Last Boss was indestructible. Arthur, the Sword Hero, had left a mark—a sword lodged in the Last Boss’s left palm!

From just a glance, it was clear what had happened. In his last moments, Arthur had used his sword like a stopper, holding it horizontally as a final desperate act. He might have intended to wedge it against the monster’s palm to halt its attack, but what he didn’t expect was for the sword to pierce the creature's thick skin. Ironically, the very quality of the sword, meant to save him, had sealed his fate.

That sword became Ethan’s glimmer of hope. It was a weapon that had the potential to inflict damage on the Last Boss. If he could just get his hands on it, his chances of achieving a "victory" would soar.

"But how do I get it?"

Stealing it wasn’t an option. The strength gap between him and Arthur was insurmountable. The sword would decapitate Ethan before he could even reach its hilt. Moreover, after thousands of loops, one painful truth had become clear: trying to alter events before the Last Boss's appearance only accelerated his fate.

Ethan had tried explaining his ability, Rewind, to the heroes. He’d warned them about the Last Boss’s approach and shared details of its weaknesses. But no matter how he presented the information, at best, they half-believed him. No one took him seriously.

One day simply wasn’t enough time to convince them. And if he pushed too hard, he risked being labeled insane, leading to his death even before the Last Boss arrived.

In the end, Ethan set a rule for himself: Only change events that occur after the Last Boss’s arrival.

So, the only way to "legally" get the sword was after Arthur's death—specifically, when it got stuck in the Last Boss’s second-to-the-top left hand.

Ethan braced himself, despite his cowardice. But to coax the Last Boss into using a specific hand and then dodge its strike, all while extracting the sword, was nearly impossible. Yet, he had an advantage: habits.

After observing the Last Boss’s attack patterns for what felt like years, he had memorized its tendencies. He had learned which hand the Last Boss favored, which leg it stepped forward with first, and which head it turned to track noise. Minor details, seemingly irrelevant, but crucial to Ethan’s survival. These insights allowed him to last up to an hour against the monster—a feat that came with its own grim consequences.

Surviving longer meant his starting point in each loop was an hour further along. The messages he had scratched into the walls as markers became permanent, beyond his ability to change.

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The longer he fought, the less time he had to prepare. Despair gnawed at his resolve, but he clung to hope. The thought of Mary, the one person tethering him to sanity, kept him going. Without her, he knew he’d have descended into madness long ago—or worse, given up altogether, paralyzed by the fear of dying again.

How cruel fate was that the more he died, the more he feared death.

---

Ethan sprinted, his legs burning with exertion. Above him, the Last Boss’s massive legs slammed down in a frenzied attempt to crush him. For the last hundred deaths, this had been his method of survival—staying on the move.

'Right leg, 10 meters to my 3-o'clock. A hand coming down!'

By now, he felt like a prophet, anticipating the monster’s every move. After several minutes of evasion, the moment he’d been waiting for arrived.

GRAAAAAAAGH!

The Last Boss’s three grotesque heads let out a deafening roar, raising all eight of its arms high. Ethan’s heart pounded. This was the attack pattern he had been preparing for.

"NOW!"

As the hands slammed down, Ethan darted to a precise spot—where Arthur’s sword was lodged.

'I can see it!'

He narrowed his focus, his heart hammering in his chest. Timing was everything. Just as the hand descended, he leapt exactly 3.1 meters to the side, moving into a pocket where the shockwaves from the impact would cancel each other out—a makeshift safe zone.

The Last Boss roared again, all 24 eyes widening. Ethan knew what came next: the Instant Death Gaze. But before its gaze could lock onto him, he slid under the rising palm, grinning as his hand closed around the sword’s hilt.

"Perfect timing!"

The cold metal grip, shaped like a lion's maw, felt like victory in his grasp. With a grunt, Ethan pulled, and the sword came free with a spray of purple blood.

His breath caught in his throat. He had it—the Hero’s Sword!

Without wasting a second, he swung it at the Last Boss's palm. But, as expected, just having the sword didn’t make him a skilled swordsman.

"HAAH!"

CLANG!

The blade bounced off the monster’s tough skin, leaving no visible damage. Still, a wide, almost manic smile spread across Ethan’s face. With this sword, he finally had a fighting chance. The real challenge could begin: finding the Last Boss’s weakness.

SPLAT!

But in his elation, he let his guard down. A massive hand slammed into him, crushing him instantly.

Another death. But this time, he felt closer to victory.

With each loop, Ethan moved more efficiently. He had the eight-palm strike sequence down to an art form. Upon retrieving the sword, he would test every possible angle, striking at anything that seemed like a weak point.

But his experience came at a cost: recurring painful deaths.

Between battles, he practiced swordsmanship, honing his skills with whatever he could find. Each failure taught him something new.

Thousands of deaths turned into tens of thousands. He now fought the Last Boss for over an hour each time, before his body gave out. His movements became precise, almost mechanical, conserving energy as he attacked the monster's vulnerable points.

A punch came hurtling toward him, but Ethan sidestepped, using the arm to climb up to the creature's neck.

"I haven’t tried this part yet..." he muttered, swinging the sword.

The blade cut through the air, but something about the monster’s reaction was different. For the first time, it hesitated. Its massive form recoiled, as though... afraid.

Ethan’s eyes widened in realization. He had long since mastered the Last Boss's tricks, but this was no feint.

A dark grin spread across his face, his pulse racing with anticipation.

"THIS IS IT," he growled, his voice cold and unrelenting. "YOUR WEAKNESS!"