Sayon’s Crypt was an underground labyrinth that spanned over fifty miles. It was beautiful, a sign of the decadent wealth Telia Sayon had earned from kingdoms she saved from demon forces at the peak of the Thousand Year War. She was a woman who knew her own worth and was ruthless about it, squeezing kingdoms dry up until the day she died. As it turned out, she took all that money on a wild ego trip to build a labyrinth like an Egyptian pharaoh, building it in secret with all the builders living and dying there with their families. She started the crypt when she was twenty-five and carved the face into the mountain when she was fifty-eight—the year that she went to fight Agronus.

Like Telia, Sara finally understood why Sayon created the murderous labyrinth when she was twenty-five—the reason Telia didn’t want unskilled mages seeing her research. Yet Sara didn’t truly understand until she was sent back in time, and only once she was redoing the labyrinth at thirty-two did she truly appreciate it.

Raul and Emma would learn why soon enough.

Until then, they went through the preliminary trials, crossing hallways without touching the floors, maintaining barriers while moving—detecting magical traps. Being able to see and sense mana was a key takeaway from the trial, and without Emma (who could almost “see it” even without a divination spell), everyone in Jason’s Hero’s party would’ve died in the crypt. Yet at the end of it, they all learned Divine Eyes, which made the return trip comically easy—just as it was for Sara on the second run-through. Still, even if she did a speed run, it would take two days just to walk through it (as it snaked down like an anthill, and there were some trials that just took time).

Sara sat down as Emma and Raul studied magic circles in an ornate room dressed in gold. They were gravity spells that they needed to use to trap a 50-foot, self-repairing golem in the next room. Raul asked if he could just demolish it. Sara said, “Jason tried. You can only pass if the labyrinth detects the use of certain magics in finishing trials.” Raul grumbled and went back to learning. Sara wrote to Kyritus. She was doing that when she realized something was off, evidenced by her shaking hand.

Something’s wrong, Sara thought. Something’s definitely wrong…. She tried to activate her spatial ring. Nothing. I need to get out of here, but…. She looked at Emma and Raul. Could she trust them to make it through the labyrinth without dying? Probably. Yet what was the point of going through so much hell and doing so much fucked up shit if she wouldn’t stand beside the people she cared about?

The facts were simple: everyone said Daniel was a vegetable, and at the very least, he couldn’t walk. He was under intense surveillance, with people sniffing his room for arrays around the clock. Most importantly, only one person knew where Kyritus was—

—a trustworthy person who was a minor famous figure but not openly close to her by any stretch.

So even if Daniel woke up and magically healed, it’s not like he could get to Kyritus and Tiber. If he could do it, it would take months unless he instantly found Tyran (who was under the radar before, during, and after her setup) or went after Edico. Perhaps he could interrogate soldiers who went after Tyran and Rokus in the city, or perhaps any number of things could happen—but it was going to take time. And while Daniel could use Sayon’s teleportation network, it only moved north toward the demon capital of Drantal; Telsenlore was in the southwest region of the middle continent. If there were a race to get to them, Sara would win easily.

In short, even if Daniel woke up, regained his mind and body, found Tyran, and left, it’d still take him a week to get there via sliver glider, and he’d need travel permits unless he wanted to go on a murder spree. There was just no way that he could make it to Telsenlore before she could.

As Sara thought through it, she realized that she had already decided to go to Telsenlore directly after leaving the crypt. When she looked at the last line of her letter she saw it clear as day: “I’ll see you soon.”

2

Twelve hours before, Daniel slipped off his bed with chalk in hand. It was a pain to hide that chalk because nurses changed his clothing. Yet his saving grace was that they still used the hydration arrays on him, so when people were searching his room, he just put the chalk (which he had put a protective seal on) into his mouth and grunted as usual. That carried on until that night when he was leaving—

—one way or the other.

He started by drawing a sound-dampening array to limit noise, then drew a six-layer array on the floor. Once he finished, he waited for the second guard to leave and then slapped the ground and grunted.

“Lord Winters!” he said, coming in. Daniel was lying on his stomach on the floor, so the guard ran up to roll him over. Daniel rolled over himself, making the man stumble onto the array. The guard saw the circle and tried to yell, but Daniel activated it—and all the bones in the man’s body instantly dissolved. All that was left was a block of armor and clothing, a floating blob of blood, and a wad of muscle, skin, and bone.

This was the first stage of a Reconstruction Array: a spell for preparing human and animal building blocks for reassembling or chimerical research.

Daniel had never used it for personal reasons—

—but he had used it many times before.

He looked up and saw the open door. Using raw mana for telekinesis, he slowly shut it until it clicked. Then he rummaged through the armor pile, found the man’s dagger, unsheathed it, and took a deep breath as he put the tip against his right arm. He took three breaths to pump himself up—

—and cut from his wrist up his bicep. He yelped but held in a scream as he took his hemorrhaging arm and placed it on the reconstruction array. He activated the second layer, and suddenly, the guard’s muscle lifted, split, and entered his bloodied arm in a grotesque display he refused to watch even in the past. It felt even worse than it looked, and he thought he might faint from the feeling, but he kept strong, reveling in the feeling of gaining mobility back. Three minutes later, he had an arm that could bend and quickly make arrays.

Onto my legs…. Daniel thought, feeling his heart churning like a broken washer machine. Doing it once didn’t make it easier—it made it worse. It was like taking his first shot of liquor and then getting offered another. He wanted to hurl, but he needed his fucking legs! It was too late to back out. Any minute, the guards would come down the hall, and if he wasn’t out, it would turn into a bloodbath. He just murdered a man in cold blood—

—but that didn’t mean that he enjoyed it.

Daniel took a series of jagged breaths and then split his leg open, suppressing a harrowing scream before he activated the spell. It was even more grotesque to watch his legs and thighs bubble, stretch, and squirm. Yet when he could walk, he put aside his grievance. Aside from his bones, Daniel was cultivating a strong body constitution—which was changing his appearance. That’s how records worked—and this one belonged to a famous adventurer not too different from Rinus Kemot—the original wielder of the Godslayer. He felt strong, so he had no problem stripping naked by the halfway mark, slicing open his chest, and accepting this man’s muscle like molded clay. He then used wind blades to slash his ass and back, and then finally, he used a truly disturbing spell that shaved off his skull down to the smallest amount before using the guard’s bones to reconstruct a face like veneers on teeth. No one fucked with their skull—no one. But Daniel did. He spent years doing things that would make Sara’s skin crawl to learn forbidden magic from his past master. And oh, did he plan to pay that sadistic freak a visit. But for now, he was making full use of those skills.

Ten minutes later, Daniel was strong, healthy, and looked completely different than he did before. He strapped on the soldier’s armor and then activated the rest of the deconstruction array, which broke the human body into its building blocks—reducing it to dust. That included stripping iron and building from the man’s blood, leaving nothing but water floating in a floating blob. Daniel opened up the window and used a wind spell to blow all the dusted remains of the body into the wind.

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Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Where the hell is he? The General’s gonna kill us!”

Daniel panicked. The array was still there! He flicked his wrist on the water, churning it into a cyclone and then lowering it onto the floor. Then he jumped out the window as the water crashed down behind him.

3

Daniel had a lot to do, but first, he needed a drink. He needed his voice back. To reacclimate into the world. So he went to his Dreena District stash house for a bag of gold and clothing, changed, dissolved the armor, and hit the town with a brand new face and body.

He skipped past Lilli’s to avoid the past and chose a seedy-looking bar named Reger’s Bounty, a name it got from offering meals at the price of a reger (a common nuisance animal) tusk. That made things clear: it was an adventurer tavern.

Daniel walked in and sat at the bar, drawing attention from all the grizzled adventurers. A roughed-up woman wearing a shiner and track marks from drug use walked up to him from behind at the bar. “I need your money, but I don’t need it bad enough not to warn you.” She looked at the men and women wearing equal layers of leather armor and trauma, drinking twalla, cheeks flushed and dangerous. Then she looked back. “These people, they see a rich, good-lookin’ guy come in here, they say say to each other, ‘Fuck that guy.’ They agree. Yet they don’t fuck wit ‘em. Why? ‘Cause they’re not suicidal. But I’ll tell you a secret.” She looked at him seriously. “I need the money, so I’m gonna sell twalla to them all night. And as they drink, they’re gonna be thinking ‘bout their woes and needs and how stupid you are, and they’re gonna jump ya. It’ll be stupid. Might end up in prison. But it’s gonna happen.”

Daniel took a deep breath and leaned in. “I….” He coughed, using a raspy voice that didn’t match his chiseled face. “Am having… a really… really… bad night.”

“Um….” She snorted and looked at the staring adventurer. “That’s just startin’ if you don’t get the fuck—”

Daniel flicked a griffin on the bartop with a metallic clang. The coin rattled back and forth, getting faster and faster before coming to a stop. He had the entire bar’s attention as he put his finger on it. “I’m giving you this… no matter what. But you’re… gonna…” He cleared his throat. “Clean up a lot of broken bodies. Now get me a tres.”

The bartender smiled mockingly, putting her finger on the gold coin and sliding it into her hand. She deposited it into a safe (which was bolted to the floor) and grabbed the fanciest bottle of liquor in the whole damn place, and put the half-full bottle down on the bar. “Drink up, ‘cause you just challenged all of them.”

Daniel turned and saw men and women cracking their necks and grinning. Then he pointed at a rocks glass. “Give me one of those.”

“It’s dirty,” she said.

“Just… fucking let me drink, lady.”

She shrugged and gave him the glass, and he poured it out as a large man who looked like a railroad worker came up, sporting a large gut and huge meaty arms that could probably stop a bull if it wasn’t charging.

“Let me finish my drink,” Daniel said. He finished pouring, lifted the drink, and right before he sipped it, the man grabbed his hand and slammed it onto the table. The house burst into laughter.

“Sorry, kid,” the man said. “I don’t know if I could sleep at night knowin’ I heard that broken body nonsense and didn’t call it.”

Daniel took a deep breath, the type that raised the chest and made people think of Zen and yoga. Then he nodded. “I’ll be honest… with you.” Daniel cleared his throat. “I don’t typically like… hurting people. I don’t get off on people’s pain. But I just… have… So. Much. Fucking. Rage… within me right now. And I think I came here here lookin’ for an excuse to fuck… people… uh—”

The adventurer swung his massive fist at Daniel. Daniel ducked and grabbed the man’s arm, stood, grabbed the man’s hair, and slammed his head on the bar top with enough force to break a table. He facilitated the whole process in body aura, so it cracked the wood and the man’s skull, leaving his body sliding to the floor like a dead fish. To other people, it probably looked like a knockout, but Daniel doubted he would wake up without at least some cognitive impairment. Perhaps he just wanted someone to suffer like he did. Whatever it was—it’s what happened.

Daniel repoured his drink. “Nope, didn’t make me feel better.” He sighed and took a sip. “But it was better than nothing.”

A group paid and left. A third group lifted drinks and drank. One man chuckled—two told him to hush. Then, everyone waited for the next big guy to come challenge Daniel, but he didn’t. Instead, a woman stood, creating an electric atmosphere amongst the adventurers. This blonde was highly reminiscent of how Sara was when she fought Agronus. She was jagged to the core with a face carved out of wood like some far west totem pole, and she was wearing her kill count on her like a fucking coat. She was perfect.

Daniel took a drink. “I don’t hit women.”

“Even if they’re attacking you?” she asked.

“Then I hit women.”

“So what’s the difference?”

“I don’t need to hit you.”

“Then why don’t I give you a reason.”

“You can try.”

She did—but he released so much magical pressure that the bartender blacked out and crashed behind the bar, knocking down a few glasses. Like Sara, he also had a core—Halkon’s core. And like Sara, he had suppressed it to the level of his peers. Yet once unleashed it was rather fierce and left the entire bar feeling fridged as people looked at him like a demon.

The blonde leaned against the bar, taking deep breaths, swallowing after every four.

Daniel reached into his pouch and dumped ninteen griffins on the counter, weaved his hand through them to split it in half and pushed ten near her. “Sleep with me.”

She laughed. “Do I look like a whore?”

Daniel took a drink. “No.”

“Then why the fuck would you ask?”

“’Cause you look like someone who can handle some rough sex. And I don’t want to roll the dice with some whore’s sanity.”

Her face turned stern. “You talkin’ torture.”

“I don’t do torture. I just want vanilla sex so good my back looks like a cat’s scratching post.”

She snorted and laughed and scoffed and said, “You talk some mean game.”

“Did I mention I’m a virgin?”

Her laughter increased. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” He was.

“Then why’re you worried.”

“Look down.”

She did and found the varnished bartop cracked. Then she nodded a few times and said, “Fair.”

“So?”

“Yeah.” She put the side of her hand on the table and pushed the coins back to him. “But I ain’t a whore.”

Daniel smiled.

“But I better get an orgasm.” She did. Five. Daniel was like a savage animal, and she was curled up in the fetal position afterward, breathing hard and laughing, shedding layers of stress like a starving cat that finally got a meal.

As for Daniel, he stared at the ceiling of some random inn’s room, chest rising and falling, libido drooping, looking beyond the ceiling in a state of shock. He had just spent four hours fucking that blonde in every position imaginable, treating her like she was Sara, choking her as he came every single time. He felt like a serial killer, and he absolutely hated himself for it.

How the hell'd it come to this? an inner voice asked, speaking to him from some strange future tape recorder. You got what you wanted, didn’t you?

That was true, wasn’t it? Daniel spent half a decade questing and learning arrays, searching for a way to bring Emma back from the dead—

—and he succeeded.

He planned to kill Jason and Mary—now they were dead. Sure, Sara had just replaced them as a tyrant, but he couldn’t bring himself to think that she had truly replaced Psycho and Sadist. Sara’s actions were dark, but they weren’t motivated by the shit that made those two tick. Ever since she arrived, she wore her moping depression like a fucking coat. It was the worst thing about her. Most days, Daniel wanted to hold her head underwater until the bubbles became less frequent, then pull her head out at the last moment and yell, I gave you a second chance, so enjoy it, you fucking cunt! But that was mostly because she was the reflection of himself. While he was hiding his strengths and knowledge, he honestly hadn’t changed all that much. In the eyes of others, sure. He was turning out to be a real team player, someone dependable and confident and likable. Emma even talked to him like a friend at the end there, but….

Daniel grabbed the bottle of Tres off the nightstand and poured himself a glass. He stole a second bottle from the knocked-out bartender on his way out. He hoped it’d be good enough to temper the rage, like dipping red-hot iron into a barrel of water and watching it turn to steam. He took a drink.

It didn’t help.

Somehow, it all wasn’t enough. Daniel tried to see it as enough, though. He really did. Emma was alive. Raul was alive. Jason and Mary and Escar were dead. The Dreena District was doing well and Agronus would die without casualties (probably). The heroes were united so the war would probably go smoothly, too. It was everything he dreamed of, and he wanted it to be enough. He actually did… but it wasn’t. Now that he had decided to redo it all over and be the hero, he realized something important—that’s what he wanted all along. Emma was just a positive excuse that let him rake through bottomless trenches of muck to accomplish his goal. And the goal he wanted and dreamed of and wished for over the years, fighting endlessly, traveling, learning, searching, and practicing for, was to be the hero himself. Or at least part of the party. To get up there with Sara and Emma and Raul and fight the demon king, charm Emma, fall in love, and be a legendary warrior. To be someone and be beloved, strong, resourceful, and great beyond comparison. It was a fantasy—his fantasy—and Sara fucked it up.

And even if he looked back on his last act, trapping Sara, stealing Qualth, and then running away to build power and kill Agronus—

—his whole motivation was to reset time without Sara there. Even then, even delusional and bright and cheery and hopeful he was planning to do just that.

Daniel took another drink to temper his emotions. He didn’t think that he could be a well-meaning person anymore. He had snapped. And that feeling of orgasming in a woman after being bold and decisive—

—it felt good.

For the first time, Daniel Winters felt free. Not in a good way, but free. Like a savage animal that was released into the wild and was just happy to live and feast and roam the world. It was dark and lonely. But it was a helluva a lot better than the hell he just went through.