"Strange—"

Dodon's predictable opening words died on his lips as my fist slammed into his jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone on metal reverberated through the chamber as the Imperial Executor crumpled to the floor, his helmet clattering away to reveal a stunned and disoriented face.

No time for pleasantries, no time for theatrics. This loop was all about efficiency, about gathering information and pushing my skills to the limit.

'Divine Identification.'

I hammered the mental command, the blue screen flashing before my eyes as I cycled through Dodon's information, searching for anything, anything at all, that might give me an edge as the windows opened and closed in rapid succession.

Name: I̶m̶p̶e̶r̶i̶a̶l̶ ̶E̶x̶e̶c̶u̶t̶o̶r̶ ̶D̶o̶d̶o̶n̶

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Titles: I̶m̶p̶e̶r̶i̶a̶l̶ ̶E̶x̶e̶c̶u̶t̶o̶r̶,̶ ̶M̶a̶n̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶M̶a̶s̶s̶a̶c̶r̶e̶,̶ ̶P̶a̶r̶a̶m̶o̶u̶n̶t̶ ̶E̶v̶i̶l̶,̶ ̶O̶n̶e̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶2̶0̶ ̶P̶e̶r̶p̶e̶r̶a̶t̶o̶r̶s̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶6̶ ̶G̶r̶e̶a̶t̶ ̶M̶a̶s̶s̶a̶c̶r̶e̶s̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶I̶n̶n̶o̶c̶e̶n̶t̶, Compulsive Liar

Danger Level: ██████████████████

The glitching titles, the unreadable Danger Level… It was infuriating.

A surge of movement snapped me out of my thoughts. The guards, their initial shock giving way to a cold fury, were closing in, their swords flashing, their eyes burning with a murderous intent.

I tried to dodge, my newly acquired skills kicking in, but there were too many, their attacks too precise, too relentless. Three minutes of desperate struggle, a whirlwind of steel and pain, and then… darkness.

Pain Tolerance (Body) is now level 34!

Back to square one. Dodon's "Strange" echoed in the chamber, but I barely registered the sound. My focus was on the guards, on their movements, on the lethal dance of their blades.

'Blessing Inventory.'

New Unlocked Blessing Available:

Movement Skill Aptitude (Passive) (x3): Increases the rate at which you gain experience in all Movement Skills by x3.

‘Duplicate,' I noted, a surge of anticipation coursing through me. 'Let's see what we can do with this.'

I slotted the blessing, adding it to the existing one.

(1/3)

'This time,' I thought, gritting my teeth, 'I dance. Or at least… avoid getting skewered long enough for them to get bored.'

Offense? Forget it. My punches were about as intimidating as a wet noodle on a cardboard plate. My sole focus was on one thing: not dying immediately. Again.

Some of the guards closed in, a wall of steel and scowls. Six seasoned warriors, their movements honed by years of training, their eyes fixed on me with a predatory gleam. And in the center of this storm of impending violence stood me, Raymond Draws, former programming teacher, current lab rat in a cosmic game of death and more death with small bits of stupid in between.

The first attack came from the left—a blur of silver as a sword arced towards my head. I flinched, throwing myself to the side in a move that was more panicked spasm than calculated dodge. My foot caught on a loose piece of floor bricking, sending me sprawling to the ground just as the blade whistled harmlessly past my ear, ruffling my hair with its passage.

I scrambled to my feet, heart hammering against my ribs, a strangled yelp escaping my lips. A spear thrust whizzed past my face, missing my nose by a fraction of an inch as I stumbled backward, tripping over my own feet and landing in a tangled heap.

'This is insane,' I thought, my breath coming in ragged gasps. 'I'm going to die. Again. And it's going to be hilariously pathetic this time.'

But then, a strange thing happened.

Dodge (Movement/Body/Combat/Mind) is now level 10!

The notification blinked into existence, a beacon of absurdity amidst the chaos.

I stared at it, utterly baffled. 'Did I just level up my dodge skill by… falling on my ass?'

Maybe the system had a quota to fill for "most improbable survival scenarios." Or maybe the universe just loved a good slapstick routine. Whatever the reason, the message was clear: the more wide my movements, the less likely I was to end up as a shish kebab.

Embracing this newfound wisdom, I transformed the summoning chamber into my personal circus of the absurd.

I spun like a top that had lost its axis, my arms flailing wildly. I ducked and weaved with the grace of a newborn giraffe on roller skates. I leaped and bounded with the coordination of a drunken kangaroo. It was a performance that would have made a mime weep with envy, a chaotic circus show of flailing limbs and panicked yelps.

A guard, his face contorted in a snarl, swung his sword in a wide arc aimed at my head. I twirled with my eyes widening in focus, and threw myself to the side in a desperate roll. I landed hard on the unforgiving stone floor, my shoulder screaming in protest, but the blade missed me by a good foot.

Dodge (Movement/Body/Combat/Mind) is now level 15!

Another guard charged, spear held low, his eyes narrowed with murderous intent. I let out a “Woah!”, jumped to the side with all the grace of a startled cat… and promptly tripped over a stray helmet that had belonged to Dodon who was currently taking a nap on the floor.

I crashed into a pile of discarded armor, my limbs tangled in a mess of metal and leather. The spear, aimed for my chest, embedded itself harmlessly in the stone wall behind me with a sickening thud.

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Yes, harmlessly, all the way up to the grip, in stone.

Dodge (Movement/Body/Combat/Mind) is now level 20!

The notifications kept popping up, a surreal counterpoint to the sound of clanging steel and frustrated roars of the ones who kept getting hit instead of their actual target.

'This is actually working?' I thought, a giddy laugh bubbling up from deep within my chest. 'I'm dodging attacks by looking like I've never used a single one of my limbs for their intended purpose in my life?'

It was absurd. It was ridiculous. But it was also undeniably effective. For some unknown, cosmically comedic reason, my complete lack of coordination and spatial awareness seemed to be throwing these highly trained warriors off balance.

For a while, at least.

Dodge (Movement/Body/Combat/Mind) is now level 36!

Then, about a minute and a half in, something clicked. My movements, while still far from graceful, were becoming more deliberate, more controlled. The flailing was turning into actual dodging, the panic into a strange, exhilarating sense of flow.

'Oh,' I thought, 'I think I'm actually getting the hang of this.'

The realization came a moment too late. Exhaustion, the inevitable consequence of pushing my body to its limits, was starting to set in. My movements were slowing, my reactions becoming sluggish.

The guards, their frustration reaching a boiling point, were starting to adapt, to anticipate my increasingly predictable movements.

The end was inevitable. But I had learned something valuable. Sometimes, the best way to survive was to just freaking move until I leveled up.

Three and a half minutes. That was all I managed this time. But it was progress. Significant progress.

Pain Tolerance (Body) is now level 39!

—

"Strange…" Dodon said, his voice flat as he tilted his head in confusion.

"Strange, indeed, motherfucker!" I shouted, a surge of defiant energy coursing through me as I sifted through my mental menus.

'Blessing Inventory.'

New Unlocked Blessing Available:

Combat Skill Aptitude (Passive) (x4): Increases the rate at which you gain experience in all Combat Skills by x4. Increases Combat Skill Endurance by x4.

'Another duplicate!' I thought, a feral grin spreading across my face.

I slotted the new blessing, my focus narrowing to a razor-sharp point.

(1/3)

At the exact same time as Dodon's words finished falling and my shout finished echoing, my fist slammed into his face. The satisfying crunch of cartilage and bone echoed through the chamber as he crumpled to the floor, his helmet clattering away.

The chamber erupted into a whirlwind of violence. But this time, I was ready.

Steel clashed against steel, the air thick with the clang of blades and the thud of armored bodies. I moved with a speed and precision that surprised even me, my fists a blur of motion, my body a conduit for instinct and honed reflexes.

Brawling (Body/Combat) is now level 44!

Exercise (Body) is now level 25!

Counter (Combat/Body/Mind) is now level 1!

I wasn't just dodging anymore. I was fighting, striking, countering, my every move fueled by a cold, calculated fury.

A guard lunged, his sword a silver arc aimed at my chest. I twisted my body, the movement fluid and precise, years of accidental practice culminating in a single, instinctive dodge. My fist slammed into his armored side, the impact sending a jarring shockwave up my arm.

Counter (Combat/Body/Mind) is now level 10!

Another guard came at me, his spear thrusting forward like a viper's strike. I ducked under the blow, my hand instinctively reaching out, my palm slapping against the flat of the spearhead. The force of the impact almost ripped my arm from its socket, but I held firm, redirecting the spear just enough to send it whistling past my ear.

Barehanded Parry (Combat/Body/Dexterity) is now level 1!

It was a fluke, a lucky accident. But the system didn't care. It rewarded results, not intentions.

The battle raged on, a chaotic ballet of steel and fury. Ten minutes in, a burly guard with a scarred face bore down on me, his sword raised high. I danced back, my movements precise, my body light on its feet. But my foot caught on a loose stone, sending me stumbling.

'Shit!'

Off-balance, I instinctively threw out my left arm, my palm slamming against the flat of the blade just as it was descending. The impact sent a jolt of pain through my arm, but I held my ground, redirecting the sword just enough to send it scraping past my shoulder.

Barehanded Parry (Combat/Body/Dexterity) is now level 8!

This time, it wasn't an accident. It was a deliberate act, born of instinct and honed by the relentless pressure of the time loop.

Brawling has evolved!

Martial Arts (1 Evol)(Body/Combat/Mind/Movement) is now level 1!

Dodge has evolved!

Evasion (1 Evol) (Movement/Body/Combat/Mind/Dexterity) is now level 1!

Combat Endurance (Body/Combat) is now level 1!

The notifications flooded my vision, but I barely registered them. My focus was on the fight, on the ebb and flow of the battle, on the relentless pressure of the guards' attack.

The weaker guards were starting to falter, their breaths ragged, their movements slowing. I pressed my advantage, driving them back with a flurry of punches and kicks, my strikes landing with increasing force and accuracy.

But even with my boosted skills, I was still outmatched. They were too many, their attacks too coordinated, their armor too thick. Every blow I landed was met with a dozen in return.

And as exhaustion crept in, as my movements slowed, I knew that the end was inevitable. But I had tasted a sliver of hope, a glimpse of what I might become.

'Next time,' I thought, gritting my teeth against the rising tide of pain, 'next time I'll be ready.'

—

A full hour of relentless combat. The air hung thick with the stench of sweat and blood, the floor slick with a mixture of both. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, my lungs burned with each ragged breath, but I pressed on, driven by a primal instinct for survival.

And still, I hadn't managed to kill a single one of them.

The guards, even the stronger ones, were starting to flag, their movements becoming sluggish, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. But their armor held, their discipline remained unbroken. They were like machines, relentless and unyielding, their every attack a testament to years of brutal training.

'Damn,' I thought, my vision blurring with exhaustion, my knuckles raw and bloodied. 'This is going to be harder than I thought.'

I stumbled back, my foot catching on a loose stone. The world tilted, my balance faltering. I was running out of time, the inevitable end looming.

One last scan. One last desperate attempt to glean some information, to understand the enemy I was facing.

'Divine Identification.'

I focused on Dodon, his unconscious form sprawled on the floor like a discarded puppet. This time, the information was clear, unwavering, stripped of the usual glitches and obfuscations.

Name: Imperial Executive Dodon

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Titles: Pampered Noble, Compulsive Liar, Fifth Son of Count Hod, First Confinement Layer Commander

Danger Level: Pyrrhic Victory

'Pyrrhic Victory?' My lips twisted into a bitter smile. So, he was a fraud, a weak link masquerading as a powerful leader.

The realization, instead of bringing hope, filled me with a cold dread. If Dodon was this weak, and he was in charge… what the hell awaited me deeper in this twisted hellscape?

A tremor ran through the floor, barely perceptible, yet sending a primal shiver down my spine. It emanated from behind me, a silent wave of power that felt vast, and utterly malevolent.

'What the—'

—

“Strange…”