A satisfied smile spreads on my face as I cycle the bolt of the glove on my left hand, letting out a small steel casing filled with sand. I look at the construct; it's a metal glove, like the ones worn by armored knights in the Middle Ages, but it's not just an ordinary replica of antique armor.

One would first notice the bolt action shoddily welded on the part that covers the forearm, as well as the wires that are coiled around sets of welded plates haphazardly placed on the surface of the armor. But this was only the most obvious features: If the observer would look more closely then he would notice that there wasn’t an inch of the glove that wasn’t engraved.

But I didn’t become a master enchanter overnight, far from it.

To better understand the situation we have to go back to my condemnation, back when I was sentenced to a trial by combat.

A guard had explained the rules of the trial before I was dragged out of the Council room; my trial will happen in a week from now, and I wasn't allowed to contact any of the Families. I was told that doing so or attempting to run away would result in death.

So I walked back to my apartment with heavy steps, certain of my death. I fainted every time I faced the mage and doing so in my trial wasn’t an option if I wanted to live.

The first thing I did when I went back was to look up information on my opponent. This was surprisingly easy because the person in question was hailed as one of the most promising young talents of this generation.

The recording of her fights in various tournaments crushed all the hopes I had left. This woman was able to kill creatures as big as skyscrapers without breaking a sweat, and she easily endured spells that would vaporize me in an instant.

And as if that wasn't enough, I also learned that the Dragonewts could regenerate at an incredible rate. I even found a video of one trying to cut his finger off, only for it to grow back behind the blade. Their incredible healing abilities are complemented by their scales. They were so durable that they allowed a Dragonewt to endure an attack that could flatten an entire city block.

And I still didn’t mention the massive amount of mana that was coursing through their bodies, making them excellent mages and very dangerous opponents at long range.

Learning all of this didn’t help my motivation, and to make matters worse I only had one week to prepare. Everything seemed lost, but…

I cheated.

The Council couldn’t possibly know about the Rewinder, so I may have extended my waiting period by a few days.

…Or maybe a few years, I stopped counting after repeating the first day for an entire year.

And that explains why I am shooting myself with my pistol... Well, not quite.

The glove in question is a shield of my own creation; it’s supposed to be able to endure the attacks of the Dragonewt.

At least in theory.

I learned something during my years of practicing enchanting: I have no talent at all. Some of the runes I wanted to engrave were so complex and small that I couldn’t reproduce them no matter how hard I tried.

So I used regular letters instead. It worked surprisingly well, even if I used half of the surface of the glove for what could have been done in a single, tiny rune… But moping around wouldn't change anything, it worked and that's all that matters. I was lucky that most of the complex runes were already present in my old shield bracelet, so I welded it to my glove and cannibalized it by rewiring the runes.

I rewound time a few minutes to not get in trouble with my neighbors; I doubt they would hesitate to call the police if they heard a gunshot coming from my room.

Another glance at my glove made memories flash before my eyes, the countless hours used on testing and refining what is ultimately a desperate attempt at making something that function. All of that effort is crystallized in the bolt action I ripped out of a cheap rifle I bought in a nearby store.

My lack of talent meant that I couldn’t engrave the runes needed to make my shield as strong as I wanted, so I had to improvise. At first, I tried to infuse more Magicite into the engravings, but that just resulted in an explosion when the enchantment was activated. I needed better materials than the cheap steel glove and the low-quality crate of Magicite, but I had no other option since ordering anything else would take more than a week to arrive.

However reading about Enchanting Overcharge rekindled my hopes: Apparently, you could force lower tier runes to be as strong as better ones by forcing a large amount of mana into it in a very short time. But this could only work for a few seconds, and this technique would damage the engravings.

Adapting this technique to use Magicite instead of normal mana wasn't easy and took a long time. But I finally succeeded after months of trial and errors and countless explosions. The mechanism is simple: The bolt action would feed .223 casings filled with Magicite and the activation of the shield would empty the mana contained in the crystal. Cycling the bolt would eject the casing and offer a fresh crystal to the enchantment. The capacity wasn't great since the mechanism could only hold eight cartridges. But it looked like the glove couldn't handle more than that before breaking down.

My gaze turns towards the firearm resting on a stack of books with a string attached to the trigger. My pistol also received upgrades, although nothing as extreme as the glove: I just copied the enchantment from the flintlock to make the bullets it fires go faster, making it an ideal weapon to test my shield.

Of course, there was… a few times when the shield didn't hold against the pistol. Getting shot is not fun at all; I don’t recommend it to anyone.

But those unfortunate accidents were a perfect opportunity to test another piece of equipment: A small button hidden in the palm of my left hand that's hooked to a phone strapped on my arm. A single press of the button would Rewind time for one second and two consecutive presses would allow for a two seconds Rewind… the same pattern followed for up to five seconds.

A heartbeat monitor that would Rewind one minute into the past if I died was also added to this system.

Something tells me that I’ll be relying on this thing a lot.

My eyes wander on the engraved surface of my Field Pistol, memories of all the testing I had to do to make the enchantment work flash in front of my eyes.

This was an ordeal, but the results are worth it… I also can’t really fault the shield for failing, after all the speeds reached by the bullets are insane. The bullets themselves also received a substantial-

A sudden ripple through the air interrupts my thoughts, and a large werewolf emerges in the middle of my apartment. His sudden appearance caused stacks of papers to fly around, causing more mess in the already barely navigable room.

“It’s time," he says with a stern voice, not paying attention to the papers fluttering around the place.

So this is it…

I quickly holster my gun and equip the few magazines lying around before grabbing the hand of the werewolf, who restrains me with those weird magical handcuffs before teleporting away.

We emerge in the same bland waiting room and the guard orders me to sit down before teleporting away. The windowless room is still as oppressing as last time, and the cheap chairs are still uncomfortable.

But I’m not really in the mood to complain about the quality of the furniture. After all, the hardest fight of my life is going to begin in a few minutes.

I’m not sure if all the years I spent will amount to anything, and the strategy I devised to take my opponent down is based on wild conjectures rather than facts. My willingness to fight is also something that concerns me, since I’m completely outclassed in every possible way.

So I’m sure that I’ll need to Rewind a lot to even have a chance of putting a scratch on my seemingly invincible opponent.

And I’m not convinced that I will be able to endure what could be literal years of pain.

My resolve is far from unwavering, and I clearly remember the numerous days I wasted during my week of preparation by doing nothing at all and just lazing around.

I know myself enough, and the years of Rewinding already pushed me to my limits. I’m probably able to only endure a few hundred Rewinds before I give up…

But, all my hard work would have been for nothing if I didn’t try at least a few times.

So I take a deep breath, and the ornate doors separating me from the Council room slowly opened on their own, revealing the figure of the werewolf that dragged me here.

He gestures to come forward before turning around, "And here is the accused: John Thomson!" he shouts with a powerful voice that resonates in my stomach.

I enter the arena and I once again marvel at the ornate architecture while most of the people on the platforms are chatting. Most don't even spare me a glance as I'm freed from my handcuffs by the guard.

“Now, for the one defending the honor of the Council: Please welcome Alza Scalebound!”

The expectation of the Council is clear when loud cheers erupt at the end of the announcement. My opponent emerges from a puff of smoke and embers from the other side of the arena and causes even more ovations from the feverish crowd.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Alza looks a lot like her father, except her facial features are more rounded and her horns are thinner. Her scales are shinier and have a light gray tint to them, so her two yellow eyes are standing out.

She glares at me for long seconds, probably assessing the potential danger I represent. But she sees me as harmless, as she quickly focuses back on the platform where her father is sitting.

I can’t blame her, but I still feel insulted.

“Councilmen!” Erdis shouts, “We gathered here today to decide the fate of John Thomson, convicted criminal!”

I stop paying attention to the blabbering old lizard and focus on my opponent. She’s wearing a set of engraved skin-tight leather armor, and her vitals are covered with an extra plate of engraved metal that is so polished it could be used as a mirror.

My Rewinds allowed me to learn a bit about enchanting, and my brief glance was enough to assess the quality of her equipment. It’s beyond anything I ever saw.

The sword stored in the scabbard hanging to her side is likely to be of the same quality…

I'm 95% sure I can’t win this.

“Contestants, draw your weapons!” a mechanical disembodied voice echoes in the arena, and my suspicions are immediately confirmed.

Her blade is similar to a Jian, a sword used in ancient China, and even I can feel the oppressive power coming from the weapon. The black blade is covered in small, perfectly engraved runes that are glowing with an ominous red hue while the polished golden edge pulses with energy.

This thing can probably cut through a tank!

But now is not the time to be discouraged. I draw my pistol and rack the slide before pointing it towards her, causing a brief flash of surprise on her face before she raises her sword.

My fingers trace the button hidden in my palm and my heartbeat increases while I focus on the person in front of me, ignoring everything else.

“FIGHT!” the voice shouts.

I barely have time to react as an explosion erupts behind Alza, who turns into a blur before her sword appears in front of my eyes. It's stopped by a groaning blue barrier just an inch away from my face.

Fuck! That was so fast!!

She teleports away, creating a puff of smoke that obscures my vision and irritates my eyes. Another explosion makes my ear rings, and I feel something cold going through my stomach before I can even move a single muscle.

I press the button hidden in my palm three times as I slump on the floor of the arena, causing the world to shift in front of my eyes.

This time I jump to the side and avoid the charge. I use the opportunity to fire a few rounds at my opponent who avoids most of them thanks to her insane flexibility, and the ones that hit her just bounce off her armor.

This is going to take a long time!

I cycle the bolt and the casing filled with sand doesn’t even have time to hit the ground as I am sent flying by an attack way more powerful than the last one. A groan escapes my mouth as I fly head first into a wall surrounding the arena.

The pain caused by my broken bones doesn't have time to reach my brain since her sword is lodged in my heart a millisecond later.

I grit my teeth once I come back to life, and force more Mana into my pistol before firing at Alza. The bullets leave behind a small trail of fire and force her to stop her charge, giving me precious seconds to cycle the bolt on my glove again.

She roars before jumping towards me and her sword is once again stopped by my shield, but this time I empty my magazine into her stomach before cycling the mechanism.

She stumbles back, her reptilian eyes glare at me with intense hatred.

But I can only answer with a smirk once I notice the dents in her armor.

..Riley's PoV...

“He’s doing better than I expected…”

I barely notice my mother's whispers since my attention is fixated on the fight unfolding in front of me. The fight is unlike anything I ever saw: Alza should be winning since her movements are so fast that I can't even keep up with her, and her power is truly frightening. On the other hand, John's movements are slow and sloppy, they reek of inexperience. His weapon is also useless against the Dragonewt, but…

He’s still standing.

The charges that could destroy a small building in a single sweep are avoided by a slow roll to the side and are followed by a volley of bullets into the undefended flank of the scaled warrior.

“This is insane… how is he doing that?!” Steve mutters under his breath.

I would like to know too, this shouldn’t be possible.

A roar shakes the room before a massive fireball engulfs John, who jumps out of the smoke unscathed and side step out of a slash before firing directly into the forehead of the Scalebound heiress, forcing her to stumble back.

He cycles the weird mechanism strapped to his hand before running to the other side of the arena for seemingly no reason. But everything becomes clear when pillars of flames surround the Dragonewt. In the meantime John shoots the empty air, disrupting Alza's charge just as she emerges from the smoke caused by her teleportation.

This timing is too good to be caused by luck… It’s like he already knows what she’s going to do.

This can’t be caused by Divination, he said that his visions were vague and unreliable and he wouldn’t have lied to us back then.

We cannot be stopped, we cannot be stopped…

The litany John repeated suddenly pops into my mind and sends shivers down my spine. I still don’t know what happened during the fight against Edmund despite sifting through our archives, but the way he fights against Alza is eerily similar. His actions are always resulting in the best outcome, no matter what his opponent tries…

Nobody can escape the ticking clock.

Another mysterious phrase he uttered during the fight against the necromancer replayed in my head. And the analogy is true again, it looks like the only possible outcome is his victory and that Alza’s struggle is futile…

...Erdis' PoV...

“P-Patriarch, please calm down…”

I glare at my niece, who let out a terrified squeak, before focusing back on the fight while tightening my grip on my cane.

Beloved daughter, what are you doing?

The trial by combat was unexpected, but I still accepted since it was supposed to be an easy victory for my daughter, a renowned warrior and a peerless talent seen once every century.

So why is her opponent, a Mana-less human who's weaker than a newborn, still breathing?!

What really boggles my mind is that each of her attacks is more powerful than the other, and even I would struggle against some of them. But he can avoid them like it's nothing, despite being slower than a snail. Maybe he can predict most of her attacks?

It’s not impossible since she still has trouble hiding her mana signature, but one would need to be a talented mage to pick up on the faint hint of fiery mana that flared up before any of her attacks.

However this man isn’t a talented mage, he’s just a wastrel relying on unreliable gadgets like guns and this weird contraption strapped to his hand. Normally these people crumble under the power of true martial might, but he’s still standing despite Alza’s relentless assault.

The information gathered by my spies was clear: John Thomson is a typical Outsider, with no talent or strength. He can't sense Mana, so why is he able to fight back?

Alza just unleashed the Dragonflame, this ability to spit fire hotter than the sun is what makes the Dragonewts the most powerful warriors in existence.

This is over, there's no way this pitiful human can withstand such power-

I crush my cane under my fingers when explosions erupt from the cloud of smoke and projectiles smack my daughter in the head, causing small drops of blue blood to stain her beautiful face.

“This is outrageous!” a man to my side shouts, “He’s obviously cheating!”

“Calm down! We can’t interrupt now, or the family's honor will be forever stained!" a stern, older voice disciplines the hot-blooded youth.

The woman in question, the leader of some inconsequential vassal family, is right. Interrupting the fight now would mean we weren’t confident in Alza’s power, and it would stain her reputation as well as ours. I observe the Wolfheart’s platform, but Alice is expressionless as usual.

I don’t know how that bitch did it, but she managed to fool the Council… There’s no way this John Thomson is just a simple Outsider! But I’ll crush all your underhanded schemes!

"Alza, use the Red Inferno," I order my daughter with a telepathic message.

“But father, wouldn’t this be…”

“This is an order! You dare disobey your father?!” I silence her protestations.

"…Sorry. This one will obey."

...John's PoV...

This fight is horrible.

I keep getting killed again and again.

I am forced to Rewind at least a dozen of times for each attack, and each time my margin of error is getting slimmer.

I only have two cartridges left in my glove and the sand got into the action, so it’s almost impossible to cycle it properly now-

I’m taken out of my thoughts by being cut in half, so my reflexes kick in and I press the button hidden in my palm, allowing me to avoid the otherwise deadly blow.

This can’t go on for much longer, I’m almost out of ammunition and I don’t think I can take it any more…

Alza suddenly teleports away from me and plants her sword into the ground before raising her arms. Her action causes some whispers to spread in the crowd, and I soon understand their agitation once massive intertwined ritual circles made of blinding red energy appears above her.

This can’t be good! I need to stop it now!

I empty my magazine into the Dragonewt, who grimaces when the bullets pierce her damaged armor and her scales, but she still continues to cast her spell.

Shit!!

I need to stop this spell no matter what!

But firing my remaining bullets into the Dragonewt has no effect, and her wounds quickly heal back. The circles in the air start to rotate at this moment, causing shouts to erupt in the crowd. I, on the other hand, can only stand here and prepare for the worst.

A bright flash of light blinds me, and I hear a brief groan before feeling incommensurable agony.

An immense amount of pain courses through my body, I can feel my skin melting while I am engulfed by hellfire. My regeneration kicks in almost instantly, but it only manages to prolong my agony even further. I somehow open my eyes and see that I am wrapped in red flames, but only my body is burning, my equipment is completely unaffected so I desperately reach for the bolt on my glove.

My melting skin fuse with the piece of metal and I push with all of my remaining strength, I finally cycle the mechanism and earn a few seconds of respite before the barrier crumbles. I couldn't care less about the already cracked piece of steel shattering and fall to my knees. The unbearable pain increases even further while my desperate screams escape my burning lungs.

We CaNnot bE sTopPed…

A thousand distorted voices echo in my head, and I hear rattling chains. I can feel my consciousness fading-

But the voices disappear with the sudden end of the spell, I take deep breaths of air while tremors spread through my body.

It’s finally over. I can’t take it anymore…

The crowd that was shouting just a moment ago is now completely silent so I raise my head, only to see the dumbfounded expression of the panting Dragonewt. But her surprise only last for a second and her expression returns to normal as she uses her sword as a support before pulling it out of the ground.

Now I can only wait and hope I'm right.

She stumbles forward for a few steps before an explosion echoes in the area, I don't have any strength left so I simply fall to the ground. I hear a pained wail and the warrior crash into the wall, missing me by a wide margin. Alza tries again, but another, higher pitched wail resounds as she stops mid-charge and roll on the ground, leaving a trail of blue blood behind her.

I stand up and smile when I see the reason for her pain: A bulge is growing in her stomach.

She groans and stands up before preparing a spell, but a spike made of metal erupts from beneath her skin where the bulge was. A wild grin spread across my face as I step towards her, her desperate wails are like music to my ears as new spikes continue to tear through her.

Of course, I know what's causing this, because it’s my fault.

I found a particular rune while researching enchanting, a simple growth rune that can’t do much.

People of the Hidden World use spells by channeling the mana constantly coursing through their bodies, and the regeneration of most species, Dragonewts included, all function on this same basis; by injecting more mana into the wounded parts.

So what would happen when a growth rune coupled with a contact-based absorption rune is engraved on a piece of metal, like a bullet, and shoved inside the body of an unsuspecting Dragonewt?

The result is the quivering mess on the other side of the arena: The metal would grow each time the body tried to heal, causing even more damage, so even more mana would be injected.

She is barely recognizable now as more and more metallic tumors erupt from her bloated body, causing more gurgled screams to resounds through the arena.

“T-The trial is over! John Thomson wins!” Erdis says before teleporting next to his daughter, he tries to use a spell to heal her but it only makes the situation worse. He falls to his knees and sob before grabbing her in his arms, completely ignoring the blue stains on his expensive long-sleeved robes.

The glare he shot at me before teleporting in a puff of smoke was worth a thousand words; this man swore to avenge his daughter.

But I’m too tired to worry about that, and I fall on my back while relief washes over me.

I don’t know how I did it, but I won!