Arn

Arn was at an impasse. He was sure he couldn’t stay in his cot cave or armory hall, there was no food, and he was beginning to feel the early pangs of hunger. However, he wasn’t sure he could take the lava lizard. More importantly, he was too afraid to try.

Now that he was out of crisis mode, he had an opportunity to reflect on his past two experiences of dying. Each time he thought about fighting the lizard, its wide jaw and endless teeth paralyzed him. He knew it was just a trick of his mind, that the beast had a normal amount of teeth for its mouth and that it was killable. After all, he had managed to stab it with his spear. In theory, he should be able to kill it. Theory can kiss my ass though. I can’t do it.

What if I don’t need to actively fight it though? What if I cheat? A plan began to take shape in Arn’s head. He went back into the armory and searched for what he needed. If I can’t fight it head on, why don’t I just shoot it to death? He grabbed a bow off of a rack on the wall and attempted a dry fire. As he pulled the string around three-fourths of the way taut, he hit a brick wall of tension. He couldn’t muster up the strength to pull the sting back the remainder of the way.

Giving up after about five minutes of failed attempts with the bow, Arn looked for another solution. If I can’t pull a bow back, then I definitely can’t throw a spear that far right? Moving back towards the rack of spears, he realized that the spear he had used in his last run at the lava lizard was back Alright, so the armory refills itself? Either that or I’m in a time loop, but that’s not happening. I refuse to believe it. Would the system really put me in a time loop just to complete a quest?

Finding no point in continuing that line of thinking without any evidence, Arn set about throwing some spears for practice. Modeling what he’d seen Olympians do on tv, he threw three spears. He found that the further he tried to throw, the more ridiculously bad his aim was. Clearly, Arn had no talents when it came to physical feats. As he paced back and forth collecting his spears, his eyes fell on the answer to his prayers.

Seated beautifully between two barrels of bolts, was a crossbow. Its elegantly carved wood, its gorgeously thick string, its stunningly bright brass trigger, called to him. It would be what gave him his edge. That fucking lizard would die today and Arn would get his answers! Behind the crossbow sat an empty quiver that was the perfect size for the bolts. He picked up the crossbow, and placed its tip on the ground. Placing his foot on the stirrup at the front, he used his entire body to pull back on the string and caught it behind two metal protrusions midway up the crossbow’s length. Once the string was loaded, Arn picked up and loaded a bolt. Imagining that a shield on the other side of the hall was the lizard's head, he took aim, fired, and missed by a few inches. That’s fine, I have time to practice. Arn spent the next several minutes practicing his aim until he hit the shield seven out of every ten shots. Filling and equipping a quiver full of bolts, he moved on to the next step of his plan.

Then he went ahead and looked for a set of armor that didn’t hinder his ability to shoot. The system had only given him a potato sac as clothing whenever he awoke and he already had firsthand experience about how being poorly protected ended. He found a set of leather armor that he could wear. The leather itself didn’t seem too protective, but on the inside of the sleeveless tunic had several sturdy pockets filled with smaller iron plates. Arn removed plates until he could manage the weight comfortably. He then selected a pair of trousers made of cloth. The leather paints were, to put it gently, fucking awful. They were tight, itchy, and limited his ability to make a tactical retreat. Lastly, he selected a simple pair of comfortable leather boots.

Finally, Arn was ready. His plan was simple: shoot the lizard through a crack in the door, shut it to reload, then rinse and repeat until it was dead. He made his way over to the door, and in order to not talk himself out of acting, he immediately cracked it open and stuck the end of the crossbow through. This time, the lizard was standing near the center of the room. The sword it had before was gone, it now held a mace almost as tall as it was. It looked around the cavern slowly, making several rotations, looking for something. Is it looking for Anna’s doppelganger?

When Arn had last fought the lava lizard, he realized that the thing it was killing was not his wife. For one, it didn’t bleed when it was torn apart. It also lacked a connection that Arn searched for. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt in his very essence that it was not his wife when he looked into its eyes.

Maybe, it’s already dead this time, or maybe it’s gone, either way, the lizard is next. Arm took a deep breath, aimed, and paused for several seconds trying to get his shaking under control. Fuck, this is awful. I want to go back to the cot. Why do I have to do this? While he fought his internal battle, the lizard found what he was looking for. He and Arn made eye contact for a brief moment, before Arn panicked and fired his bolt wide to the left.

He attempted to shut the door, but as he reached for it, something flung it open and a force shoved Arn right into the cave. Scrambling backwards, he slammed his back into a now closed door and made the horrifying discovery that there was no handle for him to reach. The door faded into nothingness and in the next moment he turned to hear gut-wrenching laughter.

The lizard moved on Arn quickly, crossing half of the distance in the time it took for Arn to even look down to reload. By the time he got his foot into the stirrup and grabbed the string, a painful blow knocked Arn to the side. He had been hit on the side of his chest. The armor in the area had cracked and caved in, but it did take most of the blow, saving him at the cost of a bruise and an iron plate. Arn rolled to the side, his crossbow had fallen from his hand during the impact, so he grabbed a bolt and swung wildly at the lizard, hoping to catch it in the eye. It simply moved a few inches from the arc of the bolt's trajectory and swung its mace towards Arn’s unarmored face. The last thing he felt before death was a piece of spiked metal ripping chunks off of his head before removing it entirely from his neck.

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Arn once again woke up rolling to the floor and laid in the fetal position. He stayed that way for some time, sobbing and trying to come to terms with his death. Every failure was another weight on his mind. What was I thinking about when accepting the system’s proposal? This was supposed to be fun god damnit! He decided to stay there and cry through his frustrations. Eventually, he got too tired to do even that and began planning again.

That moment repeated itself often. Arn would go come up with a plan, prepare, practice, and then it would fall apart. Sometimes he would try a ranged attack, other times, a spear, and eventually, he tried to sneak up and stab the lizard in the back. Each one of these ended in misery and then death. The cycle would continue on and on. Wake up to painful heat, cry, plan, fight, die, repeat.

The creature that pretended to be his wife, Arn learned, was impossible to save. No matter how quickly he ran into the room, or how prepared he was, the lizard killed her and he could only watch. His mind knew that she wasn’t real, that his real wife was somewhere else, but watching someone who looks exactly like the love of your life, screaming your name, crying for help takes its toll.

Arn also learned several other things during his constant reincarnations. He learned that it was not the same lizard every fight. In one fight, the lava lizard he faced was missing an eye. In another, it had a missing arm. No time loop, whoo!

The door was another issue, when it was opened, Arn had exactly ten seconds to leave. If he tried to stay, some mysterious force would throw him into the room. After the door closed, it disappeared. In one reincarnation, Arn had tied a rope to several heavy items in the armory room in an attempt to keep the door open, that hilariously backfired as every single item flew out with him and several impaled him. Even the lizard chose not to attack him in that life. Instead, it sat and laughed as Arn slowly bled to death.

Lives began to blur together. Arn began to practice different weapons. Not in an attempt to win, but out of curiosity. He wanted to see if he had any talent with a particular spear, sword, or mace. He wondered if he was more of a ranged attacker, or a melee guy.

At around one hundred forty deaths, he began to feel numb at the sight of the fake Anna’s death. He no longer saw her as a person, simply a stage prop intended to elicit a response out of him. Then, he forgot that she existed altogether. He hadn’t forgotten his wife, or his previous life, but they now seemed like distant memories, rather than some pressing crisis. Eh, if I ever see her, she’ll get over it, I’m sure. It was also around this time that he figured out his weapons of choice!

He learned that he preferred two styles of weapons. His first choice was a classic longsword, it provided momentum, offensive power, and reach. The latter was very important, as it meant he could last just a bit longer by avoiding the sharp claws of the lizards. Arn found himself using the longsword time and again, selecting it without even thinking on some occasions.

The second set was every MMO tank’s favorite loadout, sword and board. Arn wielded an arming sword in his right hand, while he attached a heater shield to his left. At first, he thought a kite shield would suit him better, as most of the heater shields were too small. After some trial and error he discovered the perfect one. Take a kite shield, cut off the rounded top to give it a straight edge. Then shorten it just a bit from the bottom, not too much, just enough for it to be held above the shin but also below his neck, and you had his go to shield. It was made of wood, and reinforced with steel and rivets. At first, he simply used it to block claw attacks, but after an experience when a lizard attempted to burn him as soon as he entered the room, he was pleasantly surprised to learn that the shield held up to fire. Whether that was due to magic, or good design, he didn’t know, nor did he care.

Arn continued focusing on improving himself, death, after death, after death. As it turns out, he was actually getting better. Just after death two hundred ten or so, he reached a moment of vindication. Till that point, even when he could wound the lizard, he could never land a decisive blow, whether due to his clumsiness, or poor decision making, he’d die before he could do so. This death was different. He had pushed the lizard into a wall, and as it reached up to slice at his shield arm, Arn ducked rather than block. As the lizard missed its attack, Arn capitalized by stabbing its knee with the bottom of his shield and slicing off the creature’s off-hand using his sword. His victory was short-lived, however, as instead of using that moment to finish off the lizard, he hesitated, too shocked at the moment to do anything. Of course, the lizard jumped on his shoulders, used its remaining arm to knock off his helmet, and tore his face to shreds.

When Arn entered the lizard's cave again, he found two lizards instead of one. FUCK, YES! You bitches need two people to take me down! His smug attitude only angered the lizards and solidified the torture he was about to endure, but he didn’t care. Something had changed, he had proven his ability to grow. The difficulty of his quest had also just taken another bullshit level up. If one enemy was hard, two were next to impossible. I wonder if I could win though? Imagine the look on their faces if I kill one of them.

It took another three hundred deaths for him to manage to do just that. He attacked instantly, forgoing any attempt at defense to throw his full focus on one lizard. He killed it, only to be tackled down and have his brain bashed in. After that point, Arn stopped keeping count. He could finally admit it, he was enjoying himself. A small part of him knew that with each death he was falling further and further into madness. He began to boo when the lizards chose to kill fake Anna in mundane ways, shouting, “Y'all sent better twenty kills ago!” and, “Bring back the other guys! THEY knew how to instill fear!” Strange what you get used to.