The dream blurred again, and Tom knew exactly where he had ended up. He recognised the battlefield before he died.

The past him was ecstatic, which was in complete contrast to what the present him felt. This was another memory he definitely did not want to relive. If he could have forced himself to wake up, he would have.

They had done it. Despite the odds, they had defeated the dragon. He would leave this trial far stronger than he had entered, and then he would complete his plan to upgrade humanity’s racial trait, and, in doing so, save Emily.

Tom could taste the success.

They had avoided a defeat that had been planned by a subset of the GODs. Sure, they had their own GODs aiding them, but, despite that, the deck was heavily stacked against them. They had won anyway. It was a heady feeling. Not only had they triumphed; they had also delivered a devastating blow to one of their competitors at the same time.

The dragons losing their ultimate champion would have massive ramifications for the competition. The neutral races achieving one of the top spots was no longer as incredibly unlikely as it had once been.

It was an amazing feeling. In this trial, they had turned everything around.

“And now you die.” The wador declared.

Tom startled in surprise. He had almost forgotten about that annoyance. “You don’t have to do this.” Tom told it, turning to face it. “Even if you’re successful, there’s no guarantee the contract backlash won’t kill you, and, just so you know, my death won’t spare you from consequences, either. The contract limitations continue until its specified dissolve conditions are met.” He stared at those scarred, sightless eyes. “There’s no need for you to die here.”

“Your species’ success against the dragon was impressive, but…” Those disfigured eyes stared him down. It was a deliberate pause, an ominous one. “Before you die, I want you to understand that humans are not the only ones capable of planning, and the wador are infinitely adaptable.”

Tom’s warning systems went off. The other person was attacking, but unlike the usual way, time hadn’t slowed.

Somehow, over the last twenty-four hours, this wador had got something that countered his dodge skill.

Instinctively he activated his purchased trait Crystallised Moment.

It gifted him a second to think. The wador had crossed half the distance to him and his skill Black Dodge clearly wasn’t triggering. There was no time to ponder the why or how; his battle instincts took over.

A massive chunk of his magic was directed into his domain, and then into the dirt and rock under his feet. He was already connected to it, so the starting priming step had already been completed, lowering the delay. This burst just added power to the mix. A host of earth spikes exploded out of the ground.

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The second of frozen time passed.

Almost faster than he could register the cat like person wove through the spikes and then it was on him. His spear bounced off its chest as Rahmat’s Power Strike, which he hadn’t even realised he had been relying on, failed to materialize.

Idiot. he thought. He should have empowered the spear himself instead of relying on someone else.

His threat assessments barraged him with information.

A teleport took him directly and blindly away. Another burst of warnings caused him to turn his stomach to stone.

The wador kept coming. A blow struck the newly converted Living Rock, and he tumbled backward, leaving a puff of dust and flying chips of rock behind him. He thrust the shaft of his spear up, desperately angling it to catch its plunging mouth. That was successful, and all the wador could do was to half-bite the wood and then withdraw to try again.

One threat vector was neutralised, but his overall position was dire. The creature was on top of him, forcing him to deal with it straining downwards, its jaws lunging and snapping as it attempted to get past the wood to bite him. While Tom was focused on that desperate resistance, its four back legs pumped, ripping into his stomach, groin and thighs.

Living Rock reinforced the area, but there was pain as its claws went through the protection and reached unconverted flesh with active nerves.

Tom didn’t let up his offense. A stone spike punched through one of its back legs. It twisted violently, and another spike opened up a slash along its stomach instead of impaling it.

More alarms screamed at him.

He phased out of existence as the claw strike that would have decapitated him by slicing through his neck went through his converted ethereal body instead.

His throat felt like it had been bathed in acid. There were internal injuries, but he didn’t have time to deal with it directly. He blasted undirected healing mana through himself, and some of the damage was reduced. That injury meant its claw strikes had sufficient magic invested into them that they could hurt him even if he used his phase ability, Tom realised.

That was a problem.

Another blow at his head triggered a second lifesaving phase-out reaction.

Light exploded in his brain. Memories were ripped away.

His thoughts became chaotic. What was he doing? Fighting? But why? Where was pink wing? Why did he feel so sick?

On instinct, he reached for his mana pool to heal himself.

His mana… Somehow there wasn’t any available.

What was happening?

A beast was on top of him. A snarling cat. He was losing to an animal, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. The monster was too strong and fast.

He felt half his arm get torn off.

The grip on his spear slipped.

It lunged at his face. He saw teeth, lots of them.

Clarity flooded through him. All of his memories returned, but something was off. He couldn’t feel his body and he was in a white emptiness.

Words appeared in front of him.

You have died.

Tom woke with a stifled gasp. Sweat drenched him, and his heart thudded at a million miles per minute. The horror, the conviction, the successes and the failures

The near pitch blackness of the dorm rooms greeted him.

He collapsed back into his covers. It was still late, based on the lighting, it was the middle of the night and it would be far too suspicious if he got up and explored, even if going to an isolation room was tempting. The memory of the dream was spinning in his head. It was a memory of why he was here, and why he was going to make all the sacrifices he could to be successful.

The fate of humanity has never rested on one person; but, given the conditions of his resurrection, maybe that wasn’t true anymore. Possibly, on a collective basis, humanity had failed, and fixing it was up to him.

Whatever it takes, he promised himself.

With a sigh, he forced himself to go back to sleep, but sleep took a long time coming.