"Aaaaaaaa!"

  For what felt like the thousandth time, I hit the ground at a speed that should've splattered me across the stone. But no. Physically fine. Patience: gone. Dignity: we don't talk about that anymore.

  I pushed myself up and rubbed my neck. The phantom ache from the last twenty — thirty? — attempts had started to feel permanent.

  Ashkart stood at the end of the corridor exactly as he always did. Golden hair still somehow glowing. Blank eyes on the ground. Sword pointed down. Ready to prove, the moment I got within range, that being half a corpse didn't slow him down at all.

  "We're doing this again," I told him.

  Deep breath. Every spell I had. Full sprint.

  Swish.

  Head. Ground. Checkpoint. Scream.

  "ONE MORE," I announced, to nobody, "and I'm burning this place down."

  I wasn't burning anything down. I'd tried. The walls didn't care.

  I stacked [Conceal], [Shield], [Shadow Step], and everything in between, blazing so hard with spell energy I was basically a walking hazard. This time I was not holding back.

  Closer. Closer—

  Swish.

  Darkness. Checkpoint. The familiar weight of yet another death settling into my bones.

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  I clutched my hair. Did not yank it out. Barely.

  "I could be the fastest person alive," I said, to the ceiling, "invisible, wrapped in divine armor — and he still cuts my head off like it's nothing."

  I paced.

  There must be a way through. I've tried speed. Stealth. Defense. Every combination of all three.

  I collapsed on the floor and stared up at the arched ceiling.

  Fine. New approach.

  [Holy Ward]. [Indomitable Will]. [Draconic Protection]. [Conceal] three times. [Silent Step]. [Divine Speed]. The doomsday stack. Everything. The corridor blurred as I launched forward at a speed that felt genuinely unnatural—

  Five feet from him.

  Head. Ground.

  "AAAAAAAAAA!"

  I stomped around the checkpoint. Paced. Sat down again. Got up.

  Maybe force isn't the answer. I've tried force. I've tried sneaking. I've tried going faster than fast.

  The thought crept in slowly, ridiculous and small:

  Maybe he wasn't waiting for a fight at all.

  I stood up. Walked forward. Calm this time. No spells, no speed. Just—

  One wrong step.

  Back at the checkpoint, headless.

  "Aaaaaaaa!"

  Okay. Different angle. I knelt at the edge of the corridor and bowed my head. Pride screaming the entire time.

  "Please, oh mighty hero," I said, with every ounce of fake reverence I could produce, "allow me to pass. I don't seek to harm you. I only want to break the seal and end this madness. Can you, great Ashkart, find it in your heart to—"

  My head rolled across the floor before I could finish.

  Respawned. Stood up. Stared at him.

  "Alright," I said, through gritted teeth, "if that's how it is."

  And I went again.

  And again.

  Speed. Stealth. Defense. Flattery. Pleading. Every combination I hadn't tried yet and several I'd already tried twice. Each attempt a new flavor of failure. Each death adding to the phantom ache in my neck that was starting to feel like it lived there permanently now.

  I'd lost count of the deaths somewhere around the time I stopped being angry and started being something closer to numb.

  Finally — at some point that felt like much later — I stood at the starting line again, breathing ragged, and let myself laugh. Just a little. The bitter kind.

  "You can kill me a thousand times, Ashkart," I said quietly. "I'm not stopping."

  One step forward. Then another.

  "One more time."

  And I meant it.

  Even knowing I'd probably say it a thousand more times after this.