Loopbreaker

The sound of the morning bell rang out.

“Argggg,” Francis groaned.

“I know… It’s earlier than usual, right?”

He sat up on his bed, frustrated about the last two deaths. Right now, Francis was pissed. That death had been preventable, but his pride and frustration had gotten the better of him. Like an idiot, Francis had gone after something he shouldn’t have, and now he couldn't shake the desire for revenge.

“Let’s get dressed, we’ve got a long day ahead of us,” Francis growled.

***

“It’s nothing personal,” Cutter said, grinning the entire time. “I just enjoy getting paid to hurt people.”

***

The sound of the morning bell rang out.

“Fuck,” Francis cursed.

“I know, he’s an asshole,” Michael groaned. “Wonder what pain he’s going to put us through today.”

Seven deaths to the same person… what kind of monster is this man?

Francis sat up, grabbing his boots as he ran through the events of the previous fight.

Whenever he thought he knew what Cutter would do, the man would adapt and change his technique. It was becoming obvious that the fighter had to have at least a proficient level of brawling patterns and one activatable skill. The man’s combos never stayed the same, and unlike with L, he couldn’t get a read on the brawler.

Two loops earlier, Francis had tried repeating everything exactly. Even when he stood in the same spot, tried to move the same way, the pattern of attacks had been different by one punch.

Even worse was that one punch had struck his face, starting the chain of pain that didn’t let up until he was beaten to death.

“You’re quiet, what are you thinking?” Michael asked, slipping a boot on.

“Just wondering how the day will end,” Francis replied. “In the end, I guess we’ll find out the hard way.”

“Never a dull moment,” Michael said. “Now let’s go, I don’t want to be late.”

***

Francis spat a glob of blood onto the floor as Lourana offered him a drink.

He had turned it down every other fight, wanting to keep his mind as focused as possible, but he needed a little escape right now.

The concoction tasted awful, yet as the combination slid down his throat, he could sense a warmth in his gut that wasn’t just from being punched nonstop.

“You’re an idiot, but at least this should help,” she said. “Take a dive, fall to the floor. Maybe Cutter won’t sit on top of you and beat you to death.”

“He won't stop,” Francis replied. “I pissed off that fat-ass, Dexter. He isn’t going to let me walk out of here alive.”

“Do you blame him? Saying what you did? He can’t afford to lose!”

Francis knew she was right. He had learned that the fat man who acted as a bookie, the announcer, and apparently the owner of this little joint was called Dexter. The smug grin on the pudgy man’s face was something Francis desperately wanted to pummel until it was gone.

Grunting, Francis ignored the pain that came from simply breathing, hoping the nasty liquid would kick in before it was forced from his gut via massive fists. “No… but don’t worry, I’ll make him pay eventually.”

She looked at him, casting a sideways glance before grabbing the stool and cup, placing them on a wooden crate, and scooting through the small gap for her. “Keep believing that.”

The sound of the bell being rung echoed in the warehouse, and those gathered all started to shout and cheer.

Cutter stopped leaning against the crates on his side and stretched his thick neck. At no point had the man ever stopped smiling.

He is enjoying this way too much. What kind of sick mind does it require to like hurting people?

“You really get off giving people a beating, don’t you?” Francis asked.

Cutter laughed, and that smile grew, showing teeth that could use a good brushing.

“You’re finally starting to figure that out?” Cutter replied. “Maybe I haven’t hit you hard enough. Now stop stalling and show me something for once.”

A quick, shallow breath was all Francis could take. He moved, trying to focus on his footwork and punching.

Francis attacked repeatedly, trying to land a single clean hit, but Cutter never moved from his spot, using his large hands to block Francis’ punches or simply allowing his massive forearm to absorb them.

Francis wanted to use Power Strike, but he knew he would only get one chance before giving that secret away. The first time Francis had used Power Strike had turned into his quickest death. Once Cutter saw he had an ability, the large man had pummeled him nonstop, no longer toying with him.

“You’re better than I thought,” the brawler said, unleashing a combo attack in return.

Assuming his defensive stance, Francis endured the barrage, wondering what kind of pain this death would bring.

Seconds stretched on as the assault continued, his body aching--and then suddenly it almost seemed to vanish.

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[ New Skill - Strong Bones (Rare) - 1 ]

Each punch felt like the power behind it had lessened. Between his confusion and the change in pain, Francis let his guard drop, immediately receiving multiple fists to his face.

Falling, Francis shook his head, blinking through the lights and fog, knowing he needed to stand up quickly before Cutter mounted him and used his face like a blacksmith’s anvil.

“Still got some legs left?” Cutter asked as Francis tried to stand.

Grunting, he ignored the brawler's taunt and spit. “I’m not that easy.”

Cutter roared with laughter, and once Francis had gotten set, the large man came again, howling with excitement as he beat Francis to death.

***

Another death had Francis back in the tavern in town, sipping a drink before he headed to the warehouse. He’d won the race, taking the extra silver even though it didn’t really matter. He knew that he was going to die again, but the truth was right before him. Francis stared at the gains he had made.

[ Status ]

Francis Lancaster

Age 17

Strength: 22

Endurance: 25

Agility: 24

Wisdom: 15

Perception: 19

Magic: 10

Skills

Swordsmanship (Common) - 47 Advanced

Shield Use (Common) - 34 Proficient

Tracking (Uncommon) - 11 Novice

Stealth (Uncommon) - 11 Novice

Traps (Uncommon) - 3 Basic

Rock Throwing (Common) - 7 Basic

Mental Resist (Uncommon) - 24 Novice

Blood of the Undying ( Unknown )- 100+ Sage

Fast Learner (Epic) - 1 Basic (Locked)

Mace (Common) - 6 Basic

Horseback Riding (Common)- 8 Basic

Horseback Handling (Uncommon) - 6 Basic

Pain Resistance (Uncommon) - 18 Novice

Poison Resistance (Rare) - 8 Basic

Power Strike (Rare) - 2 Basic

Brawling (Uncommon) - 13 Novice

Strong Bones (Rare) - 1 Basic

Francis couldn’t believe the skills or stats that he now possessed. His body was no longer the same as it had been the day they’d first set off for battle. He could run farther and faster than ever before. Each swing of his fist or weapon hit with enough force to strike down any normal person.

[ Strong Bones ( Rare ) - Your bones have evolved, becoming thicker and resistant to breaking. It will take more force than usual to break or shatter a bone. Injuries to your bones will also heal faster at a 25% faster rate. Movement is unaffected by this, and its resistance to breaks grows, as well as healing improves as the skill increases. ]

The most surprising thing was that he was nearing a proficient rank in one of his stats. All he knew about those ranks was rumors: how one's body changed and became much harder to kill. That had seemed impossible to believe — until he witnessed Stenson fighting with a single arm and destroying beasts that easily crushed a normal soldier.

Even better was the new skill he had picked up. Somehow, his bones felt thicker, but they didn’t slow his movement at all.

It had taken more punches than he’d expected from Cutter to beat him to death that time, and the pain of the broken bones he had already acquired seemed to lessen as well.

Just how rare are all these skills? I mean… Is there any way for a normal person to acquire them?

Some of the frustration and anger he had been holding in dissipated as he considered how tonight might go.

Even if I get my ass beat again, I’m going to at least make that musclebound fool worker harder to make it happen.

***

“FINISH HIM!” Dexter shouted.

Francis couldn’t help but smile—Cutter was actually sweating. Gone was the smirk that he‘d always worn. Now those lips were pulled tight as the large man punched him over and over.

Round three was underway; Francis didn’t feel as beat up as all the other times.

Sure, everything still hurt, but now only one rib was broken, even though he had sustained far more blows to his torso.

Even better was that his punches seemed to hit harder.

When Cutter had let Francis’ first punch connect, it had staggered the man briefly. Of course, Cutter made sure to return the favor.

Yet the crowd roared--even they could sense that this fight wasn’t what any had expected.

Two more jabs came, and Francis held up his arms, blocking the shots to his face.

Movement came from the outer edge of his arm, now held lower and not so tight that he couldn’t see the punch coming for him.

Ducking from the hook, he charged the large man, taking his one chance he had been waiting to test out.

[ Power Strike ]

His right fist struck with a force that surprised even him. A grunt came from Cutter, and Francis was almost certain he heard a crack from where he had hit.

Dodging to his right, Francis struck again, moving out of the way of the hand reaching for his head before connecting a left to the same spot as before.

This time, Cutter disengaged, putting distance between them as he winced.

Rage filled the man’s eyes as Cutter glared at Francis, jaw tight.

“I’m going to tear you apart,” the large man growled.

Francis didn’t reply to the threat; he simply set himself as the brawler charged. The man’s fists moved without any regard for the injury he had endured.

They traded blows, both men slugging the other with everything they had.

Francis did all he could to block the shots to his face, weaving in between the barrage of punches. He landed a shot in the same spot before moving back to safety.

He couldn’t avoid every strike that came, but for the first time in almost ten deaths, he was giving as good as he had been receiving.

[ Brawling Skill Increased - 18 ]

When he smiled at that notification, Cutter's expression looked shocked. He wasn’t sure if the man was scared or just surprised that he could smile amidst a beating like this.

Francis spat a glob of blood and mucus at the brawler's face.

No rules, no restrictions. Just the knowledge that death would come for one of them and Francis didn’t care if it was him. No matter what, the day was drawing closer when he would be the winner.

***

The sound of the morning bell rang out.

He ignored his brother’s usual comments, staring instead at a message he had never expected to see.

[ Endurance has reached 26 - Proficient Level Acquired ]

[ Body Transformation in Progress ]

[ Transformation Complete ]

The details were sketchy, but he remembered receiving the notification during the fight.

Pain had filled his entire being--all he could recall was that with his body not working how Francis wanted, he had given Cutter a punching bag to play with. The man had beaten him to death again.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. Get up and get dressed!” Michael shouted.

Francis glanced at his brother off to his side and smiled. “Yeah, sorry. Just something on my mind.”

“What? You’re actually starting to have thoughts for once? Someone fetch a healer; you must be sick.”

Laughing, he gave his brother a playful middle finger and realized that for the first time in his life, Francis felt amazing. There was no pain, no soreness, just energy waiting to be tapped. His mind raced as he considered what this would mean in regard to so many things.

Part of him wanted to rush out and challenge Phillip again. Another part wanted to go into town and beat Cutter to death, yet somewhere in the back of his mind was one other thought.

I’m so close to hitting a 26 in Agility. Can Cutter even kill me now with his bare fists?

If he could eke out that last point somehow for agility in a few more deaths, he could probably earn a few extra points in Strong Bones as well. All he knew was that if he could reach that next stage of development, things would be different.

I might be able to take Kels in a fight…

After having that thought, Francis shook his head and laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just thinking about picking a fight with someone and seeing if I can finally win.”

“Phillip?” Michael asked.

“Maybe.”

“Please don’t be that stupid… I’m not ready to listen to you complain all night about how hurt you are. Last time was bad enough.”

Ignoring his brother, Francis got dressed.

If what he was hoping for came true, he knew he had the mental fortitude to die a few more times.