[Loop: 1]

Grey stumbled into his dorm room, feeling like he had just run a marathon. Uphill. He had spent the last few hours with Zuri, climbing through a dank and dark tunnel and he felt like it. He was still processing what he had seen: thousands of tents, hundreds of siege engines, and dozens of war beasts. He had also seen the banners of Sulamarr, the red dragon against a golden field, and felt a surge of contempt for his own race. He had always hated humans but apparently, he was developing a feeling of specific antipathy for Sulamarr in particular. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the unfounded arrogance they displayed on the world stage.

Humans were worthless creatures and had no business displaying jingoism of any kind.

He was a human, yes, but also (and most importantly) was not one of them. Regardless of his body, he was not a Squishy, a weak and short-lived creature that relied on numbers and technology to compensate for their lack of magic. He was Grey, the reincarnated soul of a being that ate eldritch and ancient gods for breakfast, a being that had witnessed the birth and death of countless worlds. The Keeper of Secrets and the Architect of Strange Fates. He had once wielded power and knowledge beyond his current imagination, but now he was trapped in a frail and mortal body, forced to start from scratch in a world that was unfamiliar and hostile to the continuation of his sanity. The absurdity of it all rankled him to no end.

He hated it. He hated being pathetic and weak. Paper could cut him now and he would bleed. He hated being ignorant. His mind was feeble and required him to sit comatose in sleep for a significant portion of each day-night cycle. He hated being dependent on his human mother. He even hated having to be looked down on by his step-father, Qiran, who while not exactly a friend, might be one day. Or so Grey hoped. It was often difficult to befriend a true dragon. Nonetheless, Grey had done it before and so knew such could be done.

At any rate, Grey hated being human and all the shackles and limitations that came with it. It made him literally scream with rage and fear some days. Even that sickened him. His own panic made him feel worthless.

Which was disgusting and ridiculous. He was a dragon, a god, a devourer of worlds, a shapeshifter that took and stole any form, magic or mystery that pleased it.

Not any more.

If he were still himself, or even a shadow of the Power he once was, Grey could have easily turned the current time-loop situation to his advantage. That was what he did. He minded the variables, twisted the fates, played his cards so perfectly the whole deck was rearranged. Yet, he had hardly made any progress towards any goal at all in the past year. His humanity and the accompanying mortality seemed to ruin everything they touched, everything he tried. As things stood, gaining from what he had learned today would prove a challenge.

Yet, there was still clear opportunity. The time-loop that Zuri was stuck in was a rare and precious phenomenon, one that could be exploited for Grey’s own benefit. The logic he needed to follow was simple. Since Zuri did not know how he traveled between loops, Grey couldn’t emulate whatever he was doing. However, if Grey could convince Zuri to cooperate with him, he could use the loop to accelerate his research indirectly.

Grey had a theory that souls, or something like them, existed in this world. If they did, he was certain they could be extracted and stored, perhaps creating a source of power or of computation that he could use for his own purposes; there had to be some force or structure that imparted draugr with their memories and minds. Isolating it was the key. He also had another conception that corpses could be reanimated and controlled with his own magic, creating an army of undead servants loyal and obedient to his will. If draugr could rise naturally, then surely there was a way to raise them by artifice. It was quite possible there existed a way to tailor their personalities and intellects to fit his agenda. Maybe even a way to build loyalty into them.

So many theories, so little time and resources to test them. That was the crux of the problem.

He hardly noticed when he collapsed onto his bed, but despite his aching tiredness he immediately swung his fifteen-year-old legs off and began idly kicking them. It helped to move in this body when he was thinking. Another flaw in the design of his flesh no doubt.

He needed Zuri's help. Non-debatable truth.

The trick would be to get Zuri to ferry his notes through the loops so he wouldn’t lose his progress with each reset. Grey was pretty sure he already knew a way Zuri could carry his notes from one loop to the next. Getting Zuri to agree to help him with research the other boy considered unseemly would be the hard part. He needed Zuri to trust him.

Besides, Grey was certain Zuri was still holding out on him. There was more the other boy knew about the circumstances around the invasion (and maybe the time-loop) that he wasn’t sharing. Grey wasn't stupid. There were signs the human was withholding information, and Grey needed every scrap to make his plans succeed. To make real progress in this situation, Grey would need Zuri to share his secrets and plans with him. Ideally, he would build trust with his roommate until Zuri would follow his instructions and suggestions without question or hesitation. A blindly loyal Dog would've been nice, but a blindly loyal human would do.

To acquire that, he would need to help Zuri stop the invasion.

Grey didn't care about Cyluria or its people. He didn't care about the impending war or its outcome or about justice, or peace, or freedom. He only cared about himself and his goals. That was the problem. Because Zuri did care and was smart enough to know Grey didn’t.

Zuri was the quintessential “good” person, which was really just saying he was the quintessential foolish person. Morality was a tool. If you couldn't put it down it was a burden and thus less than useless.

Zuri wanted to save Cyluria from Sulamarr and prevent the bloodshed and the suffering that would surely ensue from the attack. Which was ironic considering the level of bloodshed that goal would require. Most mortal militaries tended to experience total morale collapse around 15-25% losses. For armies consisting mostly of humans, Grey had read that this morale collapse happened when around ten percent of their men-at-arms lay dead. Even so, to achieve his goal Zuri would need to kill or otherwise eliminate at least ten percent of the Sularmarr army: Hundreds if not thousands of people.

Causing mass bloodshed to prevent mass blood shed sounded like a losing game to Grey.

Yet, all the way back to their dorm Grey had been mulling the matter over. As naïvely self-defeating as Zuri’s goals were, Grey had to agree that the time-loop did put them in the realm of achievability. Sure, Zuri didn’t currently have the demigod-like skills needed to single handedly fell thousands by his lonesome, but he might in another twenty loops or so. Assuming the loops lasted that long. For all either Zuri or Grey knew the mysterious phenomenon could stop at any time. Every death could be their last.

Even so, Grey decided to play along with Zuri's wishes, at least for now. There was just too much to be gained from this situation. The loop presented a perfect testing ground for risky tactics that Grey would otherwise never consider; tactics like honing his skills at combat by flinging himself repeatedly into the waiting spears and swords of a Sularmese army. Actually, come to think of it, that sounded like a lot of fun.

So, Grey would definitely manipulate Zuri for his own benefit. The question was: How to do it?.

He knew it wouldn't be easy. Zuri was not stupid or gullible; he was cautious and wary of Grey's motives and methods. Grey had once tried to persuade him to join him in testing his necromantic theories. This had been back when Zuri first identified Grey’s “psychotic tendencies,” as Zuri called them. Naturally, Zuri had refused Grey’s offer of scholastic brotherhood. Hmm… Perhaps in a couple of loops Zuri could be convinced to help him kill and butcher some Sulamarese soldiers for research purposes? Knowing Zuri, though, the idiot would hold fast to his useless morals: likely reject that idea, citing some stupidity like ethics, or fear of retaliation, or escalation. As if conflict were not inevitable.

Grey knew he had to be more subtle in his approach. He had to appeal to Zuri's emotions and interests, rather than his logic and reason. What he needed to do was make Zuri feel indebted and grateful, rather than suspicious.

Which was an unfortunate chain of logic because it was circular. It led straight back to the one thing Grey couldn’t figure out: How could he help Zuri stop the invasion?

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

How? How could they stop an army of thousands with just two Squishies? How could they alert the authorities without exposing themselves or endangering their lives? Obviously the Sulamarrese had some kind of way of intercepting those who stumbled upon their legions before those people could reach the authorities, at least if Zuri’s death in the previous loop wasn’t a fluke.

It was, quite frankly, downright bizarre that he had been intercepted before being able to reach the authorities. By Zuriah’s account, he had headed almost straight to law enforcement at the start of the loop. So, unless the Sulamarrese had some insanely powerful cogniomancer watching the thoughts of every pedestrian on every street (or at least the street Zuri took) leading to the enforcement station… Grey just couldn’t wrap his head around how anyone would know that Zuri even knew about the invasion.

A powerful cogniomancer, or even a team of them weren’t out of the question, but Grey imagined even the Sulamarrese military didn’t have enough cogniomancers of sufficient skill to cover every possible approach to every law enforcement station in Cyluria. Meaning Zuri either got incredibly unlucky, he unknowingly exposed himself on the way, or something truly spooky was going on.

Grey’s money was on the last. When in doubt, prepare for the worst and the spookiest. You'll be glad you did if you turn out to be right.

Then there was the other insane goal Zuri had articulated to him during their trip to spy on the invaders: Could they find a way to break the loop without triggering its reset when neither of them knew anything about what caused it?

Grey didn’t have the answers, but he had a plan. It wasn’t much of a plan, yet perhaps it would become the first seed of one. His immediate goal was to increase his chances of survival and success in a real combat situation. It was likely he would be in the thick of such a situation before too long.

He’d heard that there were special nighttime combat training sessions for students interested in joining the Cylurian military or some equally pointless martial pursuit. It was a club Grey had avoided until now, because he had considered wearing himself out instead of sleeping to be an exercise in stupid decision making. Attending ran contrary to the goal of a stable sleep schedule and ergo also contrary to succeeding in his classes.

Also, there was the fact these sessions were held by Professor Alain Kaint, the Academy’s head of combat magic instruction who just happened to be a paranoid fruitbat of the frothing-at-the-mouth variety.

Rumors about Professor Kaint thrived among his classmates. They said that Kaint was obsessed with the end of the world, and that he believed that a great cataclysm was coming soon. Apparently he rambled on and on about extra lessons he offered to those who shared his concerns and wanted to prepare for the worst. They even said that he taught them advanced and unconventional spells and tactics not covered in the regular curriculum.

That last part was interesting because it hinted that Professor Kaint might be partaking in a very illegal activity: providing overcircle magic, teaching magic to students which was of a higher legal tier than the student was licensed to know. On the continent, magical knowledge was stratified into five tiers, sometimes called Circles, and to provide someone overcircle magic was a serious offense.

(Which made Grey beyond rutilant with rage. He was cleared for First Circle only. As if mortals had the authority to withhold anything from him.)

Regardless of his rancor, this all made the rumor that Alain Kaint was semi-openly handing out overcircle magic to students very enticing.

Regrettably, Grey was unsure how much faith he should invest in such rumors. After all, it was also said the fabled underground school was Professor Kaint’s sex dungeon.

Truthfully, despite his inaction with regard to them, Grey had been intrigued by these rumors when he first heard them. (Not the last one. That one was disgusting.) Any opportunity to increase his personal power intrigued him. Now that Grey had a reason to attend, and less of a reason to take his sleep schedule seriously (he would just be repeating his classes in the next loop so what did it matter if he failed them now?) he was eager to see what these “special combat” sessions offered.

Perhaps he would even get to test his skills and abilities against other students in real combat. Though he wasn’t so conceited to think that he wouldn’t be getting the ever-loving snot kicked out of him by the more seasoned combatants for the first few months. That was just the way this particular brain-cookie crumbled and he was fine with it. Nothing worthwhile ever came without a price tag. Or bodily injury.

While it was true that Grey probably wouldn’t be retaining any combat skills he acquired in the next loop, he would at least learn the most efficient ways to train himself. Then he would just add this knowledge to the notes he had Zuri ferry to the next loop. It was also possible that Grey might actually find a way to retain his memories between resets.

After careful contemplation, Grey decided to give into the temptation of immediate action and go to the night’s combat training session, despite his exhaustion and fatigue. He had always been, long before his rebirth, the type to take a risk and hope for a reward.

He left a note for Zuri, telling him that he was going out for a while and that he would be back ‘soon-ish.’ He grabbed his backpack, which contained his notes, materials, a spell focus or two, and a few daggers. Given the dreary weather lately, he put on his favorite cobalt blue cloak as headed out of his room.

After a brisk walk he arrived at the gym, which was one of the smaller ones in the academy. It was dark and quiet, except for a few magefire torches that lit up the walls and corners. He entered through the door, which was open and inviting. He looked around and saw that there were only a few other students in the gym. They were all Arkaniks, from different races and backgrounds. Like him they were wearing cloaks but a few were just beginning to take those off. Good. He wasn’t late then.

Grey also saw four harpies, who were perched on the rafters above the gym floor. They were all female, with feathered wings, taloned feet, and sharp beaks. They were all wearing leather armor, with metal spikes and studs. They were all holding bows, with arrows coated in thick wads of some kind of black sludge, probably a mild poison.

Grey saw the moment they decided to have some fun with him and sighed. He hated clichés. Truly, he did.

Predatory glee ignited in their eyes as they recognized him as a human, one of the Squishies they despised and hated. With good reason, he did look like one, and technically even was one, even if he wasn’t. Besides, harpies, historically, did eat humans. (Grey suspected they still did, just with more discretion.) Bearing this in mind, Grey decided he wouldn’t hold their immediate attack against them.

He would, however, have to add them to his Shite List. Later, he would hunt them down and slaughter them, along with everyone else on said list—if he ever got the chance to do that sort of thing with impunity.

It was simply the principle of the thing.

They rose from their perches in the rafters, screeching and cawing. As they circled above, they taunted him with insults and threats, mocking his race and appearance.

“Look who’s here,” one of them said. “It’s Grey, the Squishy boy.”

Uh. Well, look at that. That one must be in one of his classes. How else could it have known his name?

“What are you doing here, Squishy?” another one asked. “Did you get lost on your way to bed?”

“Or did you come here to learn some magic?” a third one sneered. “You know you’re wasting your time, right? You'll never be able to cast anything more than a spark.”

“Maybe he came here to die,” the fourth one suggested. “Maybe he wants us to put him out of his misery?”

They laughed wickedly, enjoying their petty cruelty. What imbeciles. A good predator should be able to recognize another. Yet these fools were clearly only using their brains for structural support lest their skulls cave in. Couldn't they tell he was a higher being?

Grey felt a surge of hatred swell in him like magma. He hated being outnumbered and outmatched. He hated being mocked and humiliated. Above all, he despised this new feeling of helplessness and hopelessness.

He was also scared, because this would definitely hurt. Grey kept himself calm, though, with the knowledge they were unlikely to kill him despite what they said. The toxin on their arrows was likely only a mild paralytic. They wouldn’t have brought anything else to a training session. Besides, Harpies liked to play with their kills and were well known (at least by the well-read like Grey) to love paralytics. So he’d be fine. Probably.

Despite his fear, Grey felt a flicker of defiance and determination. He refused to let them have their way with him. He was THE Shadow of Change, regardless of physical form. Their hubris in mocking him, of all creatures, would not go unpunished.

He reached for his backpack, where he kept his daggers. He had several of them, each made of steel and sharpened to a fine edge. He had been planning to use them for hunting and skinning animals in the Darkreaches, but he also carried them for his protection. He could throw them with accuracy and force at close range, and using his telekinesis spell, guide them.

Grey looked up. The Harpies were still wasting time circling like the idiot birds they were. He ignored them and focused on considering his options.

His telekinesis spell was weak and unstable; it could only move light objects with limited speed and distance. Suitable for close range, but with the harpies where they were it would not serve. That spell also required concentration and focus; it could easily be disrupted by noise or pain. Deciding that arrows probably equated pain, he decided to open with a different attack but still slipped two daggers into his offhand. They’d be useful later in the fight.

He grabbed his lighter, which he used to light candles in his room. It was a small metal device that produced a tiny flame when activated by a flick of his thumb. By itself harmless and inconspicuous; no one would recognize the lighter as a weapon.

This small steel device was a catalyst for his Candle Lighting spell, one of the few spells he knew how to cast reliably. It was a simple spell that allowed him to ignite any flammable object within eight and a half yards of him with a twitch of his fingers against the trigger.

He activated his lighter, feeling its warmth in his hand.

And aimed for an eye.