After so many lives, here I am again—climbing the black stairs of Vynuc’s castle, the Demon of Darkness.

But I don’t feel fear. Or hope. Or even anxiety.

This is a battle I’ve already lost. Many times. Thousands, maybe.

I don’t know if gods exist in this world—if they do, they seem more interested in watching me suffer than helping. Living here is punishment enough. Dying? Even worse.

It always happens the same way: I get here, I see an opening, I strike... and right at that moment, my heart fails. Sudden death. No glory.

Then I wake up as a baby.

Again.

Same soul. New body. Same stupid world waiting for me to do it all over again.

People like to say a second chance would be wonderful. Starting fresh, reliving everything... What a horrible idea.

But worse than the cycle itself was the damn party. The legendary—and infamous—Bug Big Bees.

Yes, that was our name. No, I didn’t choose it.

Let’s start with Jardini, the most tone-deaf, delusional bard I’ve ever met. He’d write awful songs about our deaths—and sing them even worse. The only reason we didn’t kick him out was Thruo, our dwarf with a heart of gold. Too bad the rest of his body tripped over everything.

Thruo was at least useful. Strong, honorable... boring, but useful.

Just thinking about it makes me want one of Karu’s potions—which would probably come with flirtation included. “Faith is fluid,” he’d say, reapplying his lipstick while listing gods like ex-lovers.

And of course, there was Lye. The unofficial leader with zero patience. She hated making decisions, loved bossing people around, and pretended to despise me. But in the end, she was the only one who’d die for me.

Though not before slapping me.

And her owl, Anud? Arrogant, loud, and smug. Almost worse than Lye herself.

The only one I actually liked was Sid. Quiet, elegant, always leaning on a tree, arms crossed, staring into the horizon. Only the gods know what was going on in his head.

And now... I’m alone.

The castle is quiet. Dark. The gates are still wide open, like always, like the demon knows I’m coming. But he doesn’t.

He never does.

For him, this is the first time.

For me... just another round.

As I walk through the gates, the darkness swallows everything. But my feet move on their own. They already know the way.

I reach the main hall. There he is: Vynuc. A lump of black flesh slumped beside a throne that looks far too small for him. The smell of moldy cheese hits before my eyes adjust to the gloom.

He’s licking his fingers. Slowly.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” he asks, his smile dripping across his face. “A brave warrior at last?”

“Hey there, Belly Belly,” I say, dropping my rusted sword and sitting on the floor.

“...Belly what?” He frowns. “Are you mistaking me for someone?”

“No. I always call you that. I’ve explained it before.”

He blinks. No idea what I’m talking about. Perfect. As usual.

“Huh… Weird. Don’t remember you,” he chuckles. “But then again, I kill so many people!”

“Yeah. Too bad I’m the only one who has to remember you forever.”

He stands up slowly. His tattered robes sway like dusty curtains. His red eyes glow behind the rolls of fat.

“So... did you come to fight? To make a deal? Beg for power?”

“No. I just came to do nothing.”

He pauses. Looks at me.

“Was expecting something more... heroic.”

“Tried that. Got old.”

“Ha!” He bursts out laughing. “You’re insane!”

“Probably.”

“Where’s your party?”

“They’re... unavailable. Mass diarrhea. Must’ve been the medicine I lovingly cooked for them...”

Another laugh. This one shakes the stones.

“I like you!” he points a chunk of cheese at me. “How about a contract?”

“No thanks. Too much paperwork.”

“Pity. So—you came here to die?”

“That’s impossible, Belly Belly.”

“We’ll see. Win, and maybe you’re right. Lose, and I’ll eat cheese in your honor.”

I sigh. Pick up the sword. Run.

Jump.

Strike.

Then comes the pain. Something tears through me before my blade even lands. My screams fade into the echo, along with his grotesque laughter.

And then, I die.

Or rather... I should.

But with me, that’s never how things end.