Ashes and Echoes

The battlefield reeked of blood and burnt flesh. Even with the wind carrying some of the stench away, it clung to us, a reminder of how close death had been.

The others sat in exhaustion, their breathing heavy, bodies slack against the cold stone of the ruined temple. The flickering light from a makeshift fire cast shadows on their faces, illuminating their weariness.

I remained standing.

Not out of pride, but necessity.

The Cursed Blade of the Hollow still pulsed in my grip, the residual energy from the battle whispering along the edges of my consciousness. I could feel it gnawing at me, eager for more. A hunger that wasn't my own. I forced myself to let go, sheathing the weapon, though the unease in my gut didn't fade.

Wei watched me from across the fire. His gaze wasn't hostile—yet—but it was sharp with suspicion. He was an old soldier, one who had seen too much death and knew the difference between an ordinary fighter and something else.

Jian, on the other hand, seemed too relieved to care. He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his sweat-matted hair. "We actually survived that."

"We survived this wave," I corrected. "But they'll send more."

The group fell silent. Even the wind outside seemed to hush, as if in agreement.

The World That Was, The World That Is

A long time ago—before my first death, before the regressions—I had been a different man. The world had been different too.

It had been a world of nations, of kings and warriors, of cities that stood like beacons of civilization. And then the Demon King had come. His armies shattered the strongest kingdoms, his magic twisted the laws of nature itself. The world hadn't ended in fire or in an instant—it had crumbled, piece by piece, wave by wave.

I had watched it burn.

And I had died alongside it.

999 times.

This time, I couldn't afford to let history repeat itself.

"The people who used to live here," I said, glancing around the ruined temple. "What happened to them?"

Wei didn't answer at first. He poked at the fire with a stick, embers rising and disappearing into the night. "Gone. Some fled when the first disasters came. Others weren't so lucky."

Jian swallowed. "You mean…?"

Wei nodded grimly. "Monsters. Bandits. Disease. Doesn't matter which. If they weren't strong enough, they didn't last."

Jian looked around the temple with new eyes. "Then this place…"

"A graveyard," I finished. "Like most places now."

That was the truth of this world. Even before the Demon King's rise, civilization had already been teetering. The strong preyed on the weak. The weak died. And now? The only ones left were survivors—or those clinging desperately to the hope that things would return to how they were.

I had no such illusions.

Memories of the Dead

I wandered through the temple ruins while the others rested, the weight of my past pressing against me. Faint remnants of old murals still clung to the walls, depictions of gods long forgotten.

Once, I might have believed in them. Once, I might have prayed.

Now, the only god I knew was the system. And it was merciless.

I reached a crumbling altar at the back of the temple. The stone was cracked, but I could make out faint inscriptions. Ancient prayers. Desperate hopes. Names of the long-dead.

I ran my fingers over them, tracing the letters.

Would my name ever be carved into something like this?

The thought was absurd. If I died, there would be no memory of me. The world would simply reset. No grave. No mourning. Just another failure added to the count.

I clenched my jaw and turned away.

I had no time for ghosts.

By the time I returned, Jian had started talking again, his voice filling the silence.

"So… what now?" he asked, looking at me.

I sat down, crossing my arms. "We prepare. We can't just wait for the next wave to hit us."

Wei narrowed his eyes. "And how do you know there will be a next wave?"

I met his gaze without flinching. "Because I've seen this pattern before."

Jian frowned. "You keep saying things like that. Like you already know what's coming."

I didn't respond immediately. Telling them the truth wasn't an option. No one would believe me if I said I had lived this war nearly a thousand times.

So instead, I chose a half-truth.

"I've fought in battles like this before," I said. "I know how these things work. They don't just send one wave and stop. They probe, test our defenses, then strike harder."

Wei considered this, then grunted. "So we do prepare."

I nodded. "We fortify this temple properly. Traps, barricades, anything that can buy us time."

Jian brightened slightly. "I could work on reinforcing the walls with stone. Make it harder for them to break through."

I nodded. "Good. Do that."

Wei exhaled through his nose. "And weapons?"

I glanced at my system notifications. The store had updated again.

[System Store: Available Items]

Reinforced Steel Spear (250 RP) Crude Explosive Trap (400 RP) Enhanced Arrow Bundle (150 RP) ??? (500 RP)

I had over 1200 Regression Points from the last battle. I could afford to invest.

"We can use the corpses," I said. "Their bones can be carved into spears. Their hides for armor."

Wei raised an eyebrow. "And where did you learn that trick?"

I shrugged. "Experience."

Another half-truth. In one of my past regressions, I had fought alongside a master survivalist. He had taught me how to make weapons from almost anything. It had saved my life more times than I could count.

Now, it would save theirs.

Hours passed. The others worked, strengthening our defenses, fashioning weapons, setting traps. The temple, once a crumbling ruin, now had the skeleton of a stronghold. It wasn't much. But it was something.

As the fire burned low, Jian sat beside me, his hands covered in dirt and sweat.

"You never rest, do you?" he asked.

I smirked faintly. "Not really."

He exhaled. "I used to think warriors were fearless. That the strong didn't need to worry."

"They do," I said. "They just don't show it."

Jian looked at me, then chuckled. "That's why you fight the way you do, isn't it? Because you know what's coming."

I didn't answer.

Instead, I looked out into the darkness, where the next wave would soon emerge.

[Next Wave Approaching…]

The night was quiet. But it wouldn't be for long.

Let them come.