[ Attempt #1,033 ]
"Aaaaaaaa!" Swish. Thunk.
[ Attempt #2,305 ]
I land, brace myself — and the blade is already there, waiting. Slices clean across my neck before I can blink.
[ Attempt #4,509 ]
At this point I don't even scream. Body hits the ground. Head rolls. Again.
[ Attempt #10,032 ]
Ceiling. I activate [Flight] and hug the shadowed corners, hovering as low as I can manage. Just as I pass him, my neck tingles — and his blade comes up in a perfect upward arc.
When my head hits the floor it spins like a beyblade.
"Even from above?!"
[ Attempt #15,600 ]
The frustration has moved past rage and started frying my nerves directly. I've tried speed. Stealth. Every layer of protection I know. Every angle. It doesn't matter. He's faster, he's merciless, and he is very, very good at this.
"Maybe just one more time?" I say to myself, voice wavering.
I'm running on spite at this point. Pure, uncut spite.
Even Sans wasn't this difficult.
[ Attempt #24,073 ]
Each attempt, new approach. Each approach, failure. I'm pretty sure I've lost brain cells. The reality of it is setting in like a shadow that not even divine favor can shift.
"WHY WON'T YOU JUST LET ME PASS, you oversized myth with a god complex!"
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He doesn't answer. Doesn't flinch. Just waits, expression frozen in that same cold, patient nothing he's had for a thousand years.
[ Attempt #42,910 ]
A dozen [Barrier] spells. Full [Holy Aura]. Every conceivable protection stacked until I'm basically a glowing, impenetrable fortress.
Swish.
Reset before I even register the head's gone.
[ Attempt #100,000 ]
I'm flat on my back, staring at the ceiling.
No feeling anymore. No jolt. No shock. Just me and this cold hallway and the endless cycle of it. I'd scream but it would just echo back. I don't have the energy.
Then something shifts in my head.
I've been so focused on getting past him that I never stopped to think — is there another way through?
I drag myself up slowly.
Wild thought incoming.
[ Attempt #100,152 ]
I stand directly in front of him this time. No sneaking. No sprinting.
[Fireball]. [Thunderstrike]. [Ice Spear]. A full barrage, rapid-fire, enough magic to level an army.
He walks through it. Doesn't even blink. The spells dissolve on contact like they were aimed at the air.
Swish.
Dead.
I keep going. [Lightning Chains]. [Void Arrows]. [Flames of Purgatory]. Everything I have.
Nothing lands. Not one spell. A few fireballs singe his armor and accomplish nothing. He is completely, utterly unaffected.
But something else is happening. I can feel it — each spell sharper than the last, the precision building, proficiency hitting levels that rival the archmages of Josephine's world. The dying is doing something, at least. It's teaching me.
[ Attempt #150,295 ]
Combinations now. [Wind Storm] into [Meteor Fall] into [Holy Flare]. Things I didn't know I could stack. Basically a nuke.
He cuts through it like butter.
And then it hits me. If magic isn't working — if archmage-level spell proficiency does nothing — then there's only one option left.
I stop. Stand still. Look at him.
"You want me to fight you," I say. Not past him. At him. "That's the only way through, isn't it."
He doesn't respond.
He doesn't have to.
[ Attempt #180,000 ]
I hold the staff differently this time. Not a casting tool — a weapon.
I step into range, and he's already moving, sword forward like lightning. I dodge — barely — and swing, throwing a close-range spell at the same time. Not trying to pass him. Trying to hit him.
We clash.
For the first time, I see a crack in his stance.
[ Attempt #200,312 ]
We're in sync now. His sword against my staff, magic filling the air between us, each exchange faster than the last. I can feel it — the rhythm of him, the pattern under the precision. And for the first time I can see the gap. Tiny. But there.
I swing. Every ounce of everything I have, poured into one shot.
His blade drops. Ever so slightly.
My head comes off anyway.
But it dropped.
