Josh, Lauri, William, Vlad, and Lojan gathered in the dusty corner of an abandoned diner. The flickering neon lights outside cast erratic shadows on their faces, each of them marked with exhaustion and determination. The world outside was quiet, but it was the silence that followed the storm, a brief moment of reprieve before the next inevitable clash.

  "We need a plan," Josh said, voice tinged with urgency. "Benito is... he's something else. I've never seen anyone move like that."

  William leaned back, crossing his arms. "We can't just sit here and wait for him to make the next move. He'll tear us apart one by one if we do."

  Lauri nodded in agreement, but her eyes were on Vlad, who stood by the broken window, a cigarette between his lips, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "We need to find a way to use his ability against him," she said. "He can manipulate the space between objects, but if we can control the battlefield—"

  Vlad interrupted her, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Control the battlefield?" he scoffed. "He controls everything around him. Even the space between us. I've fought people with impossible powers before, but Benito... He doesn't just manipulate the field. He owns it."

  Lojan, leaning casually against the counter, grinned. "Well, at least he doesn't own me. I'm pretty unkillable." He chuckled, twirling a fork in his hand like a toy. "But even I can't just jump in and beat this guy without a plan."

  Josh looked around, trying to keep the group focused. "Vlad, you're right. Benito has a huge advantage. But we've got you, and you're the best swordsman alive. We've got Lauri, with her electrical manipulation. William's metal abilities, and... well, Lojan is basically a one-man army."

  Lauri couldn't help but smile at Josh's earnestness. "And we've got you, Josh. Your ability to travel back in time. Maybe there's something you saw that could give us a hint on how to defeat him?"

  Josh hesitated, shaking his head slowly. "I've seen a lot, but none of it makes sense yet. I can't change what happened, only understand it. And Benito... he doesn't seem like someone you just outsmart. We need something more."

  William slammed his fist on the table, making the old wood creak. "We don't have time to sit around philosophizing! We need action!"

  A chilling voice sliced through the air, calm and laced with menace. "Indeed, you do."

  The group turned as one, tension electrifying the air. Benito Garcia stood in the doorway, his figure framed by the dim, dying light of the street outside. His face was calm, eyes dark and unreadable. The space around him seemed to warp slightly, as if reality itself was bending to his will.

  "I could've settled for the ticket," Benito continued, his voice low but carrying an unspoken threat. "But you took something more precious from me. My brothers. My family. And for that, there can be no peace."

  Josh swallowed hard, gripping the hilt of his mystical sword tighter. "We didn't want this, Benito. We didn't want any of this."

  Benito's lips curled into a slight smile, but his eyes remained cold, calculating. "It doesn't matter what you wanted. What matters is what you've done."

  Vlad stepped forward, his karabela gleaming in the low light. "And what do you plan to do about it?"

  Benito's smile widened, almost serene. "I plan to kill you all, of course."

  The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Lauri felt a shiver run down her spine as Benito took a step closer. She exchanged a glance with Josh, who nodded ever so slightly. William readied his stance, his hands beginning to glow with the metallic sheen of his power. Lojan's grin only widened, eager for whatever came next.

  "Prepare yourselves," Benito whispered, his voice barely a breath.

  The tension snapped like a taut wire, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world held its breath. The calm before the storm, the moment before the flood.

  And then, everything moved at once.

  The air around them was thick with tension, every breath seeming to weigh heavily as they stared at Benito. His eyes glinted with a cold intensity, and his presence felt like a vortex, drawing all attention and energy toward him. Benito's face was expressionless, his posture relaxed, but there was an unmistakable aura of menace.

  Josh gripped his mystical sword tightly, his knuckles turning white. Lauri, standing beside him, crackled with small bursts of electricity dancing between her fingertips, ready to spring into action. William Dangerfield, with a sarcastic smirk plastered across his face, leaned casually against a metallic pole he'd pulled from the ground earlier, metal bending and swirling gently around his fingers like liquid mercury. Lojen stood further back, rolling his shoulders, a grin spreading across his face as if he had been waiting for this.

  But it was Vlad who moved first. The Eastern European swordsman darted forward, his karabela gleaming in the dim light, cutting through the air with a speed that made it hard to follow. His footsteps were silent, precise, his eyes locked onto Benito's with a grim determination. He knew this would be a battle of moments, where a single second of hesitation could mean death.

  Benito's lips curled into a faint smile as Vlad leaped toward him. "Fool," he muttered. With a slight gesture of his hand, the air around Vlad seemed to shimmer and distort. Suddenly, mid-air, Vlad's body stopped, suspended for a heartbeat. Then, in an instant, his body was split cleanly in half, as if an invisible blade had sliced through him.

  Vlad's eyes widened, but he made no sound. His two halves fell to the ground in different directions, blood splattering on the dirt and debris around them. There was a shocked silence from the group, a frozen moment where no one dared to breathe.

  Flashback:

  The sounds of war echoed in the background — gunfire, explosions, and the desperate cries of men caught in the maelstrom. The smoke from burning buildings filled the air, and the sky was a sickly shade of orange. Amidst the ruins, Vlad moved with purpose, his face smeared with dirt and his clothes stained with blood, some his own, most belonging to others.

  He rounded a corner and came upon a woman, huddled against a crumbling wall, clutching a lifeless bundle to her chest. Tears streaked her face, her eyes hollow and red. Her sobs were silent, too exhausted even for sound. Vlad stopped, his breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he didn't move. Then, slowly, he stepped toward her.

  The woman looked up, her eyes meeting his. She flinched, her body tensing, ready for more pain. But Vlad knelt beside her, his rough hand gently touching her shoulder. He didn't say anything — he couldn't find the words. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She clung to him, her body shaking with silent sobs as she buried her face in his chest. Vlad's expression softened, and he closed his eyes, holding her as the world continued to crumble around them.

  Back to Present:

  Vlad's eyes fluttered as he lay on the ground, his vision blurring. His body felt numb, and he knew he was moments from death. The memory of the woman's tears lingered in his mind, and he felt a pang of regret for things he could never change. No last words, no dramatic declarations. Just the dull ache of finality, and the faces of all those he had seen fall over the years — friends, enemies, people he barely knew.

  And then... darkness.

  Josh's scream broke through the stunned silence. "Vlad!" he yelled, his voice cracking. But it was too late. There was nothing they could do. Benito stood there, unmoved, his eyes cold and calculating. "One down," he said softly, almost to himself.

  Lauri's hands crackled with more intensity now, arcs of blue energy running up her arms. Her face was a mix of fear, fury, and something else — the realization that this was only the beginning. "We can't let him win," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

  Benito turned his gaze to the rest of them. "The ticket was never enough," he said quietly, stepping forward. "You killed my family... and now I will kill all of you."

  Josh felt his heart racing, his grip on the sword tightening. He knew this was it. There was no running, no hiding. This was the final stand. Benito's expression hardened, and he raised his hand again, the air around him warping like a heatwave.

  The fight had only just begun.

  The air crackled with tension, a twisted silence filling the space between the fighters like a tangible force. Benito Garcia stood at the center of the ruined street, his calm demeanor betraying the chaos around him. His cold eyes locked on William Dangerfield, who, without hesitation, charged forward, metal shards swirling around him like a deadly cyclone.

  "You're first, then," William muttered under his breath, his metal arm extending into a jagged spear aimed straight at Benito's heart.

  Benito didn't move, not even a twitch. Instead, he smiled.

  As William neared, he felt an invisible force grip him, wrenching him backward with violent force. He hit the ground with a sickening thud, skidding across the rough concrete. The world spun, and he could hear his own breath ragged in his chest.

  "Not you... not yet," Benito murmured, almost lazily. "I want you last."

  William tried to push himself up, his vision blurring. "Bastard...," he spat through gritted teeth, feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder. He realized his metal arm was twisted at a grotesque angle. Benito had manipulated the very space between them, turning William's own velocity against him.

  Benito's eyes flickered to Lojan Mackimee, who was already charging at him, laughter bubbling in his throat. "Got a lot of guts, huh?" Benito muttered, and in a swift, almost casual gesture, he flung his hand forward.

  Lojan's body convulsed mid-stride, and a sickening crunch echoed as his limbs bent at unnatural angles. But as soon as his bones snapped, they began to fuse back together. Benito's face twisted in frustration as Lojan stood up straight again, grinning with an almost irritating confidence.

  "Yeah, I'm kinda hard to kill, Benito," Lojan quipped, dusting himself off. "But nice try! Honestly, if you'd just focused on George's nose, that would've—"

  Benito's patience snapped. He lunged forward, faster than the eye could track, gripping Lojan by the neck. Lojan laughed again, but his mirth was cut short as Benito's grip tightened.

  "I can't kill you," Benito said, voice low and steady. "But I don't need to kill you, do I?"

  Lojan's smile faltered. "You... sure about that?"

  Benito's cold grin returned. With a swift motion, he began to pull Lojan apart. Literally. Lojan's limbs separated from his body, his torso splitting as Benito's hands worked with a terrifying precision, like a surgeon dissecting a specimen. Blood splattered the ground, but Lojan didn't scream. His face contorted with pain, but he refused to give Benito the satisfaction.

  Josh and Lauri watched in horror, unable to look away. Josh's hand gripped his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but he felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot by the sheer brutality of what was happening.

  "Josh, we have to do something," Lauri whispered, voice trembling. She glanced at her brother, and for the first time, she saw true fear in his eyes.

  Benito continued, piece by piece, ripping Lojan into smaller parts. Once Lojan was little more than scattered pieces of flesh and bone, Benito glanced down at the concrete beneath his feet. He began to manipulate the space around the fragments of Lojan's body, forcing each piece deep into the cracks and crevices of the street. Flesh melded with cement, blood seeped into the ground, becoming one with the asphalt.

  Lojan's head, the last part remaining intact, was still grinning despite the agony. "You think... that's gonna stop me?" he managed to chuckle, his voice a mere rasp.

  Benito crouched down, his face inches from Lojan's. "I don't think it will stop you," he whispered. "But it will slow you down."

  With that, he pressed Lojan's head into the concrete with one final, bone-crushing force, melding it seamlessly with the ground. Benito straightened, brushing the dust off his hands.

  "Let's see how long it takes you to pull yourself together," he said coldly, turning his attention back to the others.

  Josh swallowed hard. "Lauri... we need a plan," he whispered, gripping his sword tighter.

  Lauri nodded, her eyes still wide with shock. "Yeah... and fast."

  The air was thick with tension. Dust and debris floated in the soft glow of the streetlights, casting fractured shadows on the cracked pavement. Josh could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his hand trembling as he gripped the mystical sword his father had left him. Benito stood across from him, calm and calculating, his eyes dark and unreadable. Lauri was beside Josh, her eyes flicking nervously between Benito and her brother.

  "Stay close," Josh whispered, his voice barely a breath. Lauri nodded, her fingers crackling with electric sparks, ready to launch an attack at any moment. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she stood firm, knowing Josh needed her.

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  Benito tilted his head, his lips curling into a cold smile. "You think you can end this, Josh?" he sneered, taking a step forward. "You think you can stop me with that toy?"

  Josh's grip tightened on the sword, sweat beading on his forehead. "I'm going to make sure you never hurt anyone again," he replied, trying to sound confident, but his voice betrayed his fear.

  Benito chuckled softly. "Oh, Josh," he sighed. "You're more naive than I thought." Without warning, Benito lunged forward, closing the gap between them in a blink. Josh swung his sword, but Benito effortlessly sidestepped, his body moving like liquid through the air.

  Josh barely had time to react before Benito's hand shot out, fingers splayed. Josh felt a sudden, powerful force slam into his chest. He flew backward, crashing through a shop window, glass shattering around him. He tried to stand, but pain shot through his body as he realized he had been impaled by a lamp post. The metal had pierced through his side, pinning him in place like a bug on a collector's board.

  He gasped, blood bubbling from his mouth, but he was still alive. His vision blurred, but he could see Benito walking toward Lauri, who was backing away, her hands raised, electricity arcing between her fingers.

  Benito's smile grew wider as he approached her. "Lauri," he said softly, almost gently, "Do you mean anything to him?" His eyes flicked to Josh, who struggled against the lamp post, his hands shaking as he tried to free himself. "Let's find out."

  Before Josh could utter a word, Benito's hand shot out and grabbed Lauri by the throat. She gasped, electricity sputtering out as her body went rigid. Benito's grip tightened, and Lauri's face twisted in pain. Josh's heart dropped as he saw her eyes widen in fear.

  "Lauri!" Josh screamed, pulling desperately at the lamp post, feeling his skin tear against the metal. He had to save her. He had to do something.

  Benito turned his head slightly, looking at Josh with a mocking expression. "Tell me, Josh," he said slowly, "what does she mean to you?"

  With a sickening smile, Benito began to pull. Lauri's body trembled as a faint, horrid sound filled the air—the sound of bone and sinew stretching, tearing. Benito's fingers glowed with a dark light as he slowly began to split Lauri in half.

  Josh's vision turned red. His hands slipped on his own blood as he pushed harder, feeling something deep within him crack. His mind raced through every moment he had spent with Lauri. Her laugh, her jokes, her unwavering love for him despite everything.

  "Lauri!" Josh's voice was raw, desperate. "No, no, no—"

  And then, with a horrible, wet sound, Lauri's body split open, blood spraying the ground like a fountain. Her face twisted in agony, her eyes rolling back.

  Josh screamed, the sound torn from the depths of his soul. His mind went blank, filled with nothing but rage, horror, and unbearable pain. "No!" he roared, his body spasming against the post.

  A moment of clarity pierced through the haze of grief. He had only one option left.

  Time.

  Josh's eyes glowed, his power activating almost instinctively. Everything around him slowed to a crawl, then came to a complete stop. His body began to tremble, the wound on his side burning like fire. He felt his consciousness slipping, but he focused with everything he had left.

  He pushed through the barrier of time itself, racing backward through the moments that led up to this horror. He saw the events in reverse: Lauri screaming, Benito laughing, Vlad falling, the fight, everything hurtling past him in a blur.

  He felt his energy fading, but he couldn't stop. Not yet.

  He pushed harder, straining against the pull of reality, the mystical sword vibrating in his hand. His vision dimmed, spots of black dancing across his eyes, but he kept going. Back to the beginning. Back to before it all went wrong.

  Before Vlad, Lojen, or Lauri's deaths.

  And then, with a jolt, he stopped. He was back at the beginning of the fight. The street was whole again, the lights unbroken. Vlad stood beside him, cigarette in hand, looking bored. Lojen was smirking, already preparing some snarky comment. Lauri was there too, unharmed, her eyes filled with determination.

  Josh gasped for breath, his body shaking, drenched in cold sweat. He looked at his sister, his heart aching with the memory of what had just happened—or what would happen if he failed again.

  "We need a new plan," he whispered, his voice barely a croak.

  Benito, still standing across from them, raised an eyebrow, sensing something was different. But Josh didn't care. He had a second chance, and he wouldn't waste it.

  The world resets.

  Josh feels the familiar lurch in his stomach, the vertigo of reality collapsing and reforming in an instant. The blinding pain of the lamppost through his chest disappears. For a fraction of a second, he feels nothing—just a moment of perfect stillness before time catches up with him.

  Then, chaos.

  He's back at the beginning of the fight. Benito's cold, calculating smile is there, looming just ahead. The last thing Josh wants to see. He instinctively glances around, confirming that Vlad is there again, sword drawn, standing ready but unaware of what will happen next. He knows the exact moment when Vlad will be split in half, his lifeless body crumpling to the ground. He can't prevent it. No matter how many times he resets, he can't change what's already happened—only observe, only relive.

  Lojan's shattered body reforms beside him. He is alive—if only in the technical sense. Lojan cracks a joke, something quick-witted, something that would usually make Josh smirk. But there's no time for that. Benito's hands flex, and Lojan's form begins to disintegrate again. This time, it's faster. Benito is aware of their every move, every breath. Josh doesn't have the luxury to pause. He has to run.

  "Lauri!" he yells, grabbing his sister's hand. She looks at him, confused but trusting. Always trusting. She has no idea how many times he's already watched her die. He pulls her with him, sprinting away from Benito's reach.

  "Josh, what are you—?"

  "No time! Just run!" Josh cuts her off, dragging her along, weaving through the alleys. Behind them, the air crackles. Benito's manipulation of space warps the environment, bending light, twisting sounds. Everything is distorted, stretched, and compressed at once.

  William Dangerfield rushes forward to confront Benito, metal swirling around him like a living storm. "I'll hold him!" William shouts. Josh looks back only long enough to see William raise his hand, manipulating a sewer grate into a jagged weapon, flinging it toward Benito with a roar.

  Josh doesn't look back again. He just keeps running.

  His mind races through the possibilities, trying to remember any landmark, any clue that might help them escape. They've always been near here. Too close. Closer than he realized before. There's a reason Benito keeps winning. A reason he's always one step ahead.

  His house. They're near their house. The realization sends a chill through him. They've been dancing in circles around their childhood home this entire time.

  "Josh!" Lauri tugs at his arm, her grip slipping. "Where are we going? What's happening?"

  Josh's mind flashes back—years ago, a memory buried in the past. It was a stormy night. He was eight years old. The power had gone out. Lauri, afraid of the dark, had clung to him, tears streaming down her face. "I'm scared," she whispered. He had hugged her close, his small arms barely able to wrap around her shoulders. "I'll protect you, Lauri. Always."

  Back in the present, Josh's heart pounds in his chest. He knows he can't keep that promise. Not today.

  They dart through another alley, skidding around a corner, Josh pulling her along. The sounds of metal clashing with space-warping energy grow distant behind them. But not distant enough. They need more time.

  Josh feels a sudden lightness, almost like the air itself has changed. He glances back—his heart stops. He's dragging Lauri's hand, but she isn't following.

  Her body—the top half of her—is slack, lifeless. Her legs—only half of them remain. She has been severed cleanly from the waist down, and the realization sends a shockwave through him.

  The world around him narrows to a single point, the cacophony of the fight fading away to a dull roar in his ears. He stares, unable to process, unable to breathe.

  He's dragging half of Lauri's corpse.

  The memory of his promise echoes in his mind. "I'll protect you, Lauri. Always."

  But he can't.

  He can never protect her.

  Josh's breath came in ragged gasps as he burst through the front door of the old family home, the hinges screaming in protest. His hand, slick with blood and sweat, gripped Lauri's severed arm tightly, knuckles pale and trembling. His thoughts were a chaotic blur, flashes of Lauri's smile, the sickening weight of her limp body, the darkness of the past.

  He pushed forward, forcing his way through the mess that had accumulated over the past few days. The house felt alien, every corner seemed to press in on him, but he had one goal — the note.

  Where did I leave it?

  His mind raced, heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. He tore through the living room, papers and old magazines scattering like fallen leaves. His footfalls echoed through the quiet house, amplified by the emptiness that seemed to hang in the air. Each step felt like an eternity. Every second, a ticking bomb.

  Finally, he saw it. The note lay on the kitchen table, half-hidden under a stack of unopened bills. He dove for it, snatching it up with a trembling hand. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. The handwriting — his father's handwriting — danced before his eyes, taunting him with its simplicity, its familiar curves and loops.

  He spread the crumpled paper flat against the table, willing himself to focus. The words seemed to blur, his eyes wet with tears he hadn't realized he was crying. His vision swam, his head pounding, but he forced himself to read, to understand. His father's words were a lifeline, a beacon in the darkness.

  "Josh, if you're reading this, it means you've found the sword. I know I didn't explain much... I wasn't allowed to. There are rules, ancient and unyielding. But this sword, Josh, it isn't just a weapon. It's a key. Your power to travel back in time — it has always had limitations. But with this sword, those rules can be bent."

  Josh's eyes widened, his heart racing even faster. He swallowed, hard, feeling the lump in his throat grow.

  "If you concentrate, focus on the point where you want them to go, you can sentence an opponent stabbed with the sword to walk from the beginning of their life, forever unable to change the events that come. They will live through everything again, unable to alter a thing. Every pain, every joy... repeated endlessly."

  Josh's hand trembled, the note shaking in his grip. A wave of nausea rolled through him as he processed the implications. The power of his ability was terrifying enough. But to force someone to relive their life, trapped in a cycle of unchanging fate... it was a punishment beyond anything he had ever imagined.

  Was this what his father had intended for him?

  He stumbled back, the note slipping from his grasp, fluttering to the floor. His mind raced with memories, fragments of his father's voice, his father's smile. The way he would look at Josh, the weight behind his eyes, the unspoken things he never said.

  What did you want me to do with this, Dad? Josh wondered, his chest tightening with emotion. Why didn't you tell me sooner?

  Outside, he heard the faint sounds of battle — the clash of metal, the shouts of combat. William was still fighting Benito, buying Josh the time he needed. But how much time did he really have?

  He needed to make a choice.

  He needed to act.

  Josh glanced down at the sword in his hand, its dark blade gleaming in the dim light of the kitchen. The weight of it felt different now, heavier somehow. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his decision settle on his shoulders.

  Could he do it? Could he really condemn someone to such a fate?

  He clenched his teeth, his heart pounding in his chest. He thought of Lauri, of her smile, of the way she would laugh when they were kids, her hand in his, the darkness surrounding them. He remembered the promise he had made to her — that he would always protect her, no matter what.

  And now she was gone.

  A tear slid down his cheek, mixing with the dirt and grime that stained his face. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, trying to find the strength he needed to make a choice.

  Then, slowly, he turned, his eyes falling on the open door behind him, the sounds of battle growing louder, more urgent.

  He knew what he had to do.

  He grabbed the note from the floor, shoving it into his pocket. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword, feeling the cold metal bite into his skin. With a determined breath, he took one last look at the house, at the memories that seemed to linger in every shadow, and then he stepped back out into the chaos of the fight.

  Whatever happened next, he would be ready.

  He would make his choice.

  And he would do whatever it took to see it through.

  Josh Cruise's heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum. The sword felt heavy in his hand, more like a burden than a weapon. He could see Benito approaching through the dust and debris, his silhouette sharp against the dying light. Benito's expression was calm, almost indifferent, as if they were just two people crossing paths on an ordinary day. But Josh knew better. This was the end.

  "Josh," Benito said with a slow nod. "It seems we've come to our final reckoning."

  Josh tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, sweat trickling down his temple. He knew what the note had said—what his dad had revealed to him. The sword had the power to trap someone in an endless loop of time, a punishment beyond death. He was ready to use it. But was Benito?

  "I offer you a truce," Josh called out, his voice strained but steady. "We don't have to do this, Benito. We can walk away now. I have what I need to win. You know it, too."

  Benito stopped a few feet away from him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "A truce?" he scoffed. "Do you really think I'd trust you, after everything that's happened? After what you did to my family?"

  Josh held his breath. He could see the pain in Benito's eyes, the anger bubbling beneath the surface. But there was something else, too—something that looked like doubt, or maybe even regret.

  Benito sighed, looking up at the sky as if searching for an answer in the stars. "To be honest, I'm not that mad that you killed my dad. I think... I think I know now that he killed my mom. She could see how fate plays out, and she refused to tell him. That was her crime."

  Josh's eyes widened. "You don't hate me for what I did?"

  Benito shook his head. "I'm a Garcia, Josh. I can't let the murder of my family go unanswered. But... I don't hate you for it. I understand it, maybe more than you think." He paused, a shadow crossing his face. "But I'm still sorry for what I have to do."

  For a moment, they just stood there, two enemies bound by fate, neither willing to back down. Josh's hand shook slightly on the sword. He could feel the power within it, the way it pulsed and throbbed, waiting to be unleashed. Benito's fingers twitched, his stance tightening as he prepared for the inevitable.

  Without another word, Josh lunged forward, thrusting the sword toward Benito's chest. Benito's hands shot up, palms flat against the blade as he held it back with all his might, their faces inches apart. Josh could see the fire in Benito's eyes, the fierce determination that had driven him all this way.

  "It's not that easy, Josh," Benito whispered through gritted teeth, straining against the blade. "Nothing ever is."

  Suddenly, a flash of metal whizzed past Josh's shoulder. It was William Dangerfield, eyes cold and focused, manipulating the metal around him with precise control. The sword flew forward with a force greater than Josh could muster alone, stabbing into Benito's abdomen. Josh gasped, his hands still gripping the hilt as the blade drove deeper.

  Benito's eyes widened for a brief moment, shock flickering across his face. Then, he began to fade, his body dissolving into thin air as if being erased from existence.

  "No!" Benito shouted, his voice distorted, the reality around him bending and twisting. "You... you trapped me!"

  Josh felt a strange calm wash over him. "I had to," he said softly, his voice carrying over the wind. "You understand, don't you?"

  Benito's form grew more transparent, his edges blurring as he vanished, sentenced to walk from the beginning of time, forever reliving the same moments, unable to change anything. His final words echoed, a mix of anger and resignation, "I understand, Josh. But I'll never forgive you."

  And then he was gone, swallowed by the loop.

  Josh dropped to his knees, the sword still in his hand, its blade stained with the residue of Benito's existence. He felt a hand on his shoulder—William's.

  "You did what you had to do," William said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "It's over now."

  Josh nodded, his eyes staring blankly ahead. "Yeah... it's over. We've won."

  But as he said the words, a chill ran down his spine. He knew there was a cost to victory, a price that was always paid. He just didn't know what it was yet.

  The town lay quiet around them, the wind whispering through the streets, carrying the promise of something new. For now, they had won. But Josh knew, deep down, that the winding river still had more turns to make before it met the ocean.

  Josh stood before the twin gravestones, his gaze locked on the name etched into the cold, gray stone. "Lauri Cruise." Next to hers, another stone read, "Vlad Ivanov." The wind carried a faint whisper through the cemetery, the sound of leaves rustling as if in mourning. Josh's hands trembled as he reached out, brushing his fingers against the rough surface of his sister's grave.

  William stood a few feet behind him, his expression unreadable, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. The sky above was overcast, the sun hidden behind a curtain of gray clouds. He finally broke the silence, his voice gruff. "So, this is where we end up, huh?"

  Josh turned to look at him, his eyes heavy with a mixture of grief and contemplation. "I guess so," he replied softly. "Funny how it all came down to this... a stupid lottery, and a lot of good people gone."

  William snorted. "You think any of us are good? After everything we've done, everything we've seen? We're just... people trying to make sense of the mess we've been thrown into."

  Josh smiled faintly. "Maybe. But Lauri was good... she was always better than me. She didn't deserve this."

  William sighed, moving closer, his boots crunching on the gravel beneath his feet. "Life doesn't care who deserves what. It just happens. That's why we keep fighting, right? To make sure it's worth something in the end."

  Josh looked back at the gravestones. "What is it worth though? Money? Power? Fame?" He shook his head. "None of that brought her back."

  They stood in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Then, from behind, a familiar voice broke the tension. "Took you long enough to dig me up, William. I mean, what was that, like an hour? I was getting a bit cramped down there."

  William and Josh turned to see Lojan Mackimee standing there, a crooked grin on his face. He looked like hell—his clothes were torn, dirt smeared across his face—but he was standing, very much alive. Or as alive as Lojan ever was.

  "You never know when to quit, do you, Lojan?" William muttered, unable to hide a small smile.

  "Quit?" Lojan chuckled. "You think I can afford to quit? I've got eternity ahead of me, and let me tell you, it gets boring real fast." He winked at Josh, who couldn't help but chuckle.

  Josh turned back to Lauri's grave, his smile fading. "I still don't know if I can do this without her... without them." His voice was almost a whisper.

  Lojan moved to stand beside him, a rare moment of sincerity crossing his face. "You think she'd want you to give up? After everything? Nah, man, she'd want you to keep going, to find a new reason, a new fight. That's what life is. Even a beautiful ocean has salt in it, Josh. You have to take the bitter with the sweet."

  Josh nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Yeah... yeah, I think you're right." He took a deep breath and then whispered, "Goodbye, Lauri," placing his hand one last time on her gravestone. "I'll make you proud. I promise."

  William glanced over at Lojan. "So, what's next for the immortal idiot?"

  Lojan grinned. "Oh, you know me. Always looking for the next adventure, the next joke to crack... maybe I'll follow you two around for a while. Keep you on your toes."

  Josh turned away from the grave, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

  William gave a half-smile, the first real one in days. "Let's get out of here. We've got a lot of work to do. This isn't over... not by a long shot."

  As they walked away from the graves, the wind picked up again, carrying away the last of Josh's whispered goodbyes. And as they left the cemetery, the sky began to clear, a single ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds—a small glimmer of hope in a world that had seen too much darkness.

  The end