It was Valentine’s Day.

I got up, threw on the shirt and pants my sister had picked out for me, and rushed out the door. No time to waste.

I sprinted to school, heart pounding in my chest. This had to happen today.

Rebecca.

I ran through the hallway, dodging students as my eyes locked onto her. There she was. She looked beautiful as ever, sunlight filtering through the windows and catching the soft waves of her hair.

I took a breath, steadied myself, and walked up.

"Hey, Rebecca—"

"Hey, buddy. Who the hell are you calling Rebecca’s name like that?"

A voice cut through the moment like a dagger.

I froze. A cold feeling slithered up my spine as I turned.

A guy stood between us. Tall. Built. Smirking like he already owned the world.

He crossed his arms, looking down at me with amusement.

"Why do you care?" I said, my voice colder than I expected. "Are you her friend or something?"

He chuckled. "Hey, boyfriend."

The words hit me like a brick.

A sharp wave of disappointment, anger, and something worse rippled through my body.

I clenched my fists.

"I think you should back off, kid." His voice dropped lower, just enough for only me to hear. "I know she’s beautiful. I like making out with her and…"

He leaned in.

"Even more than that. I already marked my territory."

My stomach twisted.

This guy was sick. The way he laughed, the way his lips curled, the way he thought this was funny.

"So…" He grinned, voice dripping with arrogance. "How about you back off her, okay?"

No.

I couldn't let this end here.

"What if I don’t want to?" I said, voice firm.

His smirk widened.

"Then I’ll kill you. I don’t care. I will."

The air in my lungs turned cold.

Kill?

This wasn’t fair. Why would I die because of this?! I didn’t want to die. I couldn’t.

NO.

Something inside me snapped.

"NO!"

I roared and swung.

My fist slammed into his face.

He didn’t even flinch.

A short silence. Then, he chuckled. "Your funeral."

He moved faster than I could react.

His hand snatched my throat.

Before I could fight back, he slammed me against the lockers. Metal bent under the impact, and pain exploded across my back.

Before I could recover—

He threw me to the ground.

The world spun. Damn it. I tried to push myself up—

His boot crushed me back down.

A sharp, sickening pain erupted in my ribs.

I couldn’t move.

He got on top of me, straddling my chest, and his fist came down.

Once. My vision blurred.

Twice. Something cracked.

Three times. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

And then he whispered, "You're pathetic."

The same words the Overseer had told me.

The same words Pride had burned into my mind.

Pathetic.

Pathetic.

Pathetic.

He lifted his foot.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I knew what was coming.

He was going to finish me off.

I barely heard Rebecca gasp.

"No, Danel! Don’t do it!"

A bright light. A flash of pain.

Then—

Nothing.

Just like that, I was dead. Again.

I woke up in a panic.

My lungs were on fire. My ears rang like sirens. My eyes shook in their sockets, struggling to focus. My hands—slick with sweat.

What… just happened?

Then, it hit me. The Overseer’s words.

"Relax. You’ll be revived at a checkpoint every time you die."

The words echoed, wrapping around my mind like chains.

Checkpoint.

I looked at my watch.

8:00 AM. February 14th. Valentine’s Day.

Of course it was.

This was a checkpoint.

I shot up from bed, heart hammering in my chest. Déjà vu crashed into me like a tidal wave. The same morning. The same suffocating feeling in my gut.

I ran to school. Again.

I saw her. Rebecca.

And then, just like before—

"Hey, buddy. Who the hell are you calling Rebecca’s name like that?"

Denel.

The same smug voice. The same sick laughter.

I died again.

And again.

And again.

Ten deaths.

Ten times I clawed my way back to life.

Ten times I sprinted through the same goddamn hallway, hoping—**begging—**for a different outcome.

Ten times I felt my ribs shatter, my skull crack, my body fail me.

Ten times I heard Rebecca’s gasp, saw her face twisted in horror—right before it all faded to black.

I woke up again.

Same as the first time.

Everything hurt.

I wanted to die.

Not like this—not by his hands. But maybe, just maybe, it was easier to stay dead.

I staggered toward the school, my legs numb, my mind slipping.

Then—

Darkness swallowed me whole.

A suffocating presence surrounded me. Familiar. Overwhelming.

Then, a voice. Mocking. Arrogant.

"I see you’re having trouble."

Pride.

I clenched my fists, my breath coming out in ragged gasps.

"I don’t need you here, Pride. I never did." My voice cracked with rage. "This is your sick game, isn’t it? Making me repeat these deaths over and over."

I took a shaky step forward.

"It’s because you can’t accept mistakes, huh?!" My voice rose, raw and bitter. "You want your little fucking game to be perfect!"

Pride scoffed. "I want to help you. But if you’re going to be like that, then I won’t."

He gave a dramatic sigh. "You’re lucky I’m even talking to you. I should be off doing far more important things—amazing things, really. Things that someone like you could never comprehend."

His voice dipped, venom laced in every word.

"But instead, I’m wasting my time helping a pathetic little failure like you."

Pathetic.

There it was again.

I felt the word crawl under my skin, burrow into my chest, cut deeper than any knife ever could.

Pride smirked. In his hand, a pocket knife. Sleek. Small. Deadly.

He held it out to me. "This can help, right?"

I stared at the blade. My heart slammed against my ribs.

"Y-You want me to kill him?" I breathed.

He laughed. "This game is about who’s better, isn’t it?"

The weight of the knife settled in my hand. Cold. Solid. Real.

Pride's voice purred in my ear. "After all, this is the Game of Pride."

I tightened my grip.

"You’re right."

The words left my mouth before I even processed them.

"It’s all about survival. Who’s better."

I blinked—

And suddenly, I was back.

The hallway. The checkpoint.

Rebecca.

Danel.

His voice slithered into my ears again, dripping with mockery.

"Hey, buddy—"

I didn’t hesitate.

The knife was already in my hand.

I swung.

The blade sliced deep into his flesh.

Blood.

His. My hands. The knife.

Danel stumbled back, clutching his wound. "W-What the fuck?!"

I didn’t stop.

I lunged—this time, the knife plunged straight into his chest.

Right into his heart.

A choked gasp left his lips. His body hit the floor, blood pooling beneath him.

Everything blurred. I killed him.

I killed him.

I KILLED HIM.

My hands—drenched in red. Shaking. Unsteady.

Why?

Why did I do that?

The world was spinning, screams rang out, students fled in terror—

But Rebecca…

Rebecca didn’t scream.

She stood there, looking at me. Not with fear.

But happiness.

She stepped closer. "Thank you, Kael."

My breath hitched. My vision blurred.

"W-What?"

She smiled—genuinely smiled. "He was horrible. He did… awful things. To me. To others."

Her fingers brushed against my cheek, smearing my own blood across my skin. Then, she leaned in and kissed me.

Soft. Warm.

Wrong.

So, so wrong.

She pulled away. "You actually did that for me?" She giggled. "Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought."

Then, she turned and walked away.

Her friends followed. Terrified.

I stood there.

Blood still dripping from my fingers.

I had done it.

I had completed my goal.

…Yay.

Then, the world went black.

It wasn’t the smoky darkness of before.

It was something worse.

A void.

And in it—him.

Pride.

His grin stretched wider than ever. He was smiling.

Like he always did.

"Well done." He clapped slowly, mockingly. "I never thought you had it in you."

Then—

He reached behind him.

A sword materialized in his grip.

Black as the abyss, with golden trims that pulsed like veins.

He leveled it at me.

"But now," he said, voice dripping with amusement—

"I have to kill you."

And just like that, he charged.

Pride’s sword came down in a flash of gold and black steel. Instinct took over.

I caught the blade in my bare hands.

Agony. White-hot pain ripped through my palms as the blade sliced deep, carving through flesh and muscle. Blood gushed from my hands, dripping onto the blackened floor beneath us. My grip trembled, but I held on, my breath ragged, my body screaming at me to let go.

Pride sneered down at me, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“W-Why are you doing this?! Stop! This isn’t what the Overseer said would happen!” My voice cracked with desperation.

The Overseer was a liar.

He never said I’d have to fight Pride to the death. He never said I’d be here, bleeding out in this abyss, struggling for my life. My hands throbbed, the pain unbearable. But Pride only laughed—a cruel, mocking sound that sent rage boiling in my veins.

“Don’t you get it?” he said, voice filled with mania. “You got too strong. I need to prove who’s better!”

Of course. This was Pride.

This wasn’t just a fight. This was a competition.

If I wanted to win—I had to think like him.

I gritted my teeth. “I’ll show you… I’M the better fucking PERSON!”

With a roar, I shoved his sword aside, ripping my hands free from the blade. More blood. More pain. But I didn’t care.

I slammed into him, throwing my full weight forward. We crashed to the ground, grappling, rolling over each other in a brutal struggle for dominance. His fists drove into my ribs, pain exploding with each hit, but I retaliated—slamming my fists into his face, again and again.

His strength was overwhelming. He kicked me off, sending me skidding across the floor. Before I could fully recover, his sword slashed across my chest—a deep, searing wound that stole my breath. I gasped, my vision flickering.

Pride stood over me, blade raised. “You don’t understand. You’re still pathetic.”

That word again.

Pathetic.

I felt something deep inside me snap.

I wasn’t going back.

With every ounce of strength I had left, I lunged forward, tackling him to the ground. His sword slipped from his grasp. I grabbed it, my bloodied hands gripping the hilt.

Pride glared up at me, still grinning, even now. Even beaten.

“You’ll never be better than me,” he hissed, his voice rasping with pain. “Because at least I’m not a pathetic little bitch.”

I didn’t hesitate.

I drove the sword straight through his chest.

Pride’s grin finally faltered. He gasped, his body twitching beneath me. The golden light in his eyes dimmed as the life drained from them.

Silence.

Then—a slow clap.

A presence loomed behind me. Cold. Calculated.

“Well done, Player.”

The voice was smooth, measured—almost amused.

I knew that voice.

I turned my head, breathing heavily. There, standing in the endless void, was the Overseer.

Of course. It was always him.

“Congratulations,” he said, his unreadable eyes locked onto mine. “You’ve completed your first game. The Game of Pride.”