As Marcus strolled through the streets of the riverways, he half expected to be suddenly skewered by a glass spike. It led to him being rather on edge—as time drew nearer to the night of the masquerade, he felt a personal tension mounting.

He liked the thrill. He wouldn’t trick himself into complacency—his respawn wasn’t free of consequences, and he wasn’t naive enough to believe time travel would be either.

Making sure to avoid the route that he had taken with the two other men—he had declined Augustus’s job offer this time—the hero navigated back toward the casino. He was returning from the waypoint at the docks.

Not only would it be useful for traveling between the forest encampment and the city, freeing up his spawn points if the loop continued past the battle at the masquerade—he was curious to see whether the addition of the pathway to his map would be preserved once time inevitably reset.

As Marcus neared the casino, he suddenly cursed himself. The day prior, he had decided that he would mirror his previous actions as closely as possible—he didn’t want to give himself away to the enemy yet—but he had already changed a major decision.

Oh well.

Upon entering the casino, he decided he would relax with a drink out on the second floor deck. While he wouldn’t go through the interrogation with Augustus, he would seek out Chloe at approximately the same time as he had previously.

As he made his way to the bar, he slowed down to admire the stunning interior decoration. He still wondered how they grew the trees and how they pumped water up to the fountain. Marveling at the silver, glass adorned branches arcing overhead, he failed to notice Berret’s approach.

“Hey, do you know what’s up with Augustus?” The swordsman had his brow furrowed. “I had a few questions for him, but he brushed me off quite brusquely.”

Marcus shrugged without stopping, and Berret moved to follow beside him. “How should I know? I just got back from the city waypoint.”

“Oh, so that’s where you were.” Berret paused. “Lilian was going to go tomorrow.”

There was no one attending the bar at the moment, and Marcus wasn’t inclined to wait for someone to show up, so he stepped behind the counter and poured himself a glass of rum and purple fruit juice. Berret eyed him skeptically, eyebrow raised.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.”

Taking a sip, Marcus shrugged again. “Nobody to serve me, nobody to stop me.”

There were almost no other people out on the first floor—Marcus saw only two patrons, a middle aged woman and an elderly man. The two were engaged with a dealer in a game of blackjack.

“Looks like folks are clearing out,” Berret remarked.

Nodding, Marcus took another sip of his drink. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been trying to shoo them out in preparation for the masquerade.”

Berret cocked his head. “There’s an event tonight?”

“I overheard some people talking about it,” Marcus lied. “I would check with Augustus, but I think you might need to stay somewhere else tonight.

The swordsman nodded. “What about you? Do you have a place in mind?”

Marcus thought back to his private suite. “Oh, I most certainly do.”

After relaxing on the deck and making light chatter with Berret for about a quarter of an hour, the hero decided it was time to seek out the costumer. Once again, he found Chloe in the back rooms—though he failed to surprise her this time.

“Oh, hey, you’re one of the new guys, right?” Marcus gave her a small nod. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, not much, just a little favor.” She narrowed her eyes, and Marcus raised his hands placatingly. “I need a masquerade outfit. For tonight.”

Relaxing, the chubby woman scanned him from head to toe with a critical eye. “Hmm, I might be able to help…” She grinned. “You weren’t actually invited were you.”

“Not exactly.”

“Well then, let’s see what we can do. You’ll owe me though.”

Despite the desire to experiment with new outfits, Marcus replicated his previous masquerade costume exactly. It took slightly less time this loop, as he already knew exactly what to look for and where to find it. Once satisfied with himself, he thanked Chloe and exited the outfitting room.

After checking that no one was in sight in the main area of the casino, he climbed over the front desk again, marked down his Richard Stroker alias in the hotel ledger, and retrieved the key to his suite.

Upon reaching the third floor and entering his room, Marcus made straight for the book case. He didn’t feel like having another drink this time, and there wasn’t much else to do until the event began. It was the perfect opportunity to catch up on some casual reading.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Fortunately, he still remembered his place. By the time the sun was setting and the chatter of the first guests began wafting up from below, he had finally finished the ridiculously long introduction. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to begin the first chapter.

Setting the book aside, Marcus put on his mask and stepped out onto the balcony. Ignoring the half dozen or so people mingling about on the deck below, Marcus fired a thread up to one of the stylized stone parapets of the building’s rooftop.

Hoisting himself up, he clambered over the edge, rolling over the precipice and landing on his back on the slanted copper roof. Sitting up to a crouch, he peered back over the edge. No one appeared to have seen him.

Cautiously, he began skirting around the edge of the rooftop, looking for a place to hide. On impulse, he scooted higher up to where the stained green copper gave way to wide panes of glass. Warm light shone from below—leaning over, he could see the tops of the trees and the walkways arcing above them.

Sliding back down. he continued his search for a decent hiding spot. He wanted to catch the assassin unaware, not the other way around.

At the far end of the roof he found a small stone alcove. Not necessarily satisfied but lacking other options, the hero hunkered down and waited.

----------------------------------------

Dawn broke. Marcus rubbed his tired eyes and silently cursed. It had been a long and boring night—no one had shown up. The glass rooftop never shattered, no one demanded he come forward, and there was no battle within the heart of the casino.

What had changed?

Thinking back to his actions this time and the first time, Marcus had a suspicion. The main difference in this loop was that he hadn’t taken Augustus’s delivery job—and thus he hadn’t been present for the attack in the marketplace.

The same two people had attacked both times, so it only made sense that the events were causally related.

Scooting along the edge of the rooftop, Marcus made his way back to his personal balcony. He almost sprained his ankle when he dropped down—normally he was better at landings, but it had been a long night indeed, and he was rather sore from his cramped positioning.

As he stood up and stretched, he considered what to do next… he really wasn’t quite sure. Should he try to track down the assassins, or the Warden? Or should he begin his first official workday as one of Salieri’s henchmen? He could even abscond with Lilian and Berret…

Marcus stepped over the the threshold back into the suite and died instantly.

His nearby spawn point refused to activate. Instead, the hero was greeted by a gentle wave washing over his body and the morning sun warming his wet, sandy skin.

He sat up and groaned. Already? It seemed that the Warden was as bad at avoiding death as he was—assuming that the reset was triggered the same way again this time.

Standing up and dusting himself off, Marcus sighed. There was only one way forward—he would do it all again.

And this time, he would take up the manager on his offer.

----------------------------------------

It was the night of the masquerade for the third time, and Marcus was once again crouched in the small stone alcove on the casino rooftop. He had made sure to repeat the events of the attack in the marketplace as precisely as possible, and he desperately hoped that the two assassins would show up—if they didn’t, he would go on the offensive during the next attack. If time reset again, that is.

If the current loop continued, he would be forced to reevaluate his strategy.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. Catching sight of a slender woman in a carved wooden mask creeping along the rooftop, Marcus remained deathly still. It appeared that she had climbed up on the same side that he had, and he waited until she positioned herself right at the edge of the glass, just about at the midpoint between his suite and his current position.

Several minutes passed in tense silence. Finally, the glass shattered, and Marcus began to stealthily crawl towards her.

“Marcus Vinecelli!” Her announcement was impressively loud, even out in the open. “Show yourself, and no one gets hurt.”

The hero was almost to her position when the reedy man called up. “Or what?” His voice sounded thin and muffled from up on the rooftop. “And who the fuck is Vinecelli?”

Now that he was within just a few paces, Marcus decided it was time to make his move. Mustering an air of casual indifference, the hero spoke. “You called?”

The masked woman whirled around with a spray of bits of broken glass. One landed in Marcus’s right eye, and he slid down the roof with a yelp.

“Fucking hell!” He cursed as he heard the woman approaching him from above. He clutched his hand to his face. “Watch it there! I could have sworn you said no would get hurt!”

Stooping to a crouching position , she grabbed him by the shoulders, picked him up, and slammed him back down. He lost his grip on his face and was forced to blink, causing further pain and irritation to his injured eye.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

Licking his lips, Marcus leaned his head back and attempted to relax. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind that. This eye is killing me, you know. I could do with a quick reset.”

Her grip tightened. Thinking quickly, Marcus continued. “You want to know what I know about the delivery, right? I can’t tell you anything if I’m dead.”

Despite her mask covering the entirety of her face, Marcus wouldn’t be surprised if the assassin grinned. “Right. You talk, maybe you get to live.”

“Eh, you’ve already killed me once so far…” well, twice, technically… “Here’s what I think you should do.” Her grip tightened even more, and the hero could feel the force of her glare boring into him. ” Use that fancy little epic mark. Then we’ll meet in my suite, and you can bring your robed friend with you.”

The woman’s grip loosened for a fraction of a second. “How the fuck do you know about—never mind, here’s how it’s gonna go…”

Having had enough, Marcus activated his galvanic channeling mark. Lightning surged between him and his attacker—but only one of them experienced the shock. Using her sudden incapacitation to free himself, Marcus leapt to his feet. “I told you how it’s going to go. Now if you want to talk like civilized people, I’ll be waiting in my sweet. Room 307.”

Before the masked woman could recover, Marcus stepped up onto the parapet and jumped. The night air whistling by his tumbling form was quite refreshing—he almost wished that the moment would last, but it only took a few seconds for him to reach the ground.

Respawning in the center of his suite, he took a moment to stretch and crack his neck. Removing his mask, he picked up his history book and flipped it open to the first chapter. He had made it to the second page when a cacophony of screams—monstrous and human—erupted from below.

The hero grinned. It seemed that the assassin had followed his instructions.

He had almost read through to the third page when a knock at the door alerted him to the presence of a visitor. “Come in, it's open.”

The heavy wooden door slowly pivoted open to reveal the masked woman. Marcus eyed her skeptically. He was going to be rather irritated if she insisted on attacking him again.

Closing his book, he stood up and gestured toward the bar. “Care for a drink?” He had to raise his voice to be heard clearly over the din of the sudden battle. “The whiskey isn’t too bad.”

Leaving the door ajar, the assassin cautiously stepped in. “So,” she began, her voice measured and level. “Are you willing to answer some of my questions?”

Marcus tilted his head. “It depends.” He grinned. “Are you willing to listen?”