Blood and silver

Aegis Diabolo, the young man, woke up on a tree branch, his eyes slowly adjusting to the morning light. He seemed accustomed to this peculiar waking spot, his movements economical as he swung down from the branch. Can he still be considered human after having to die over 409,067,663 times? Can he still be considered human? It's as if he's "no longer human".

The young man entered the tavern, the warm glow of the fire pit and the murmur of conversations a stark contrast to the icy cold outside. Laughter and joy filled the air, a sense of camaraderie that seemed foreign to the young man. He sat at the bar, his eyes scanning the room with a mixture of curiosity and detachment.

The bartender, a stout man with a bushy beard, noticed the young man and approached him. "What would you like, young man?" he asked, his tone friendly.

"The Raven blooms tonight," the young man replied, his voice low and even.

The bartender's smile faltered, and he leaned in closer. "That would be three silver coins."

The young man paid the bartender, who handed him a scroll in return. "What's your rank, boy?" the bartender asked, his tone skeptical.

"3rd star," the young man replied, his gaze unwavering.

The bartender's eyes widened in surprise. "Impressive for your age."

The young man left the tavern without a word, disappearing into the cold night air. His next stop was a nearby potion store, the sign above the door reading "Moonlight Potions."

The owner, an elderly woman with a kind face, greeted the young man warmly. "Welcome, young man! What can I help you with?"

"I'd like a potion that increases defense," the young man requested, his tone straightforward.

The owner nodded, retrieving a small vial from the shelf. "That would be five gold coins."

The young man paid, and the owner handed him two vials instead of one. "Here, since it's your first time here, have two."

The young man accepted the offer, thanking the owner before leaving the store.

As the night wore on, the young man found himself standing atop a cliff, the wind whipping his hair into a frenzy. Without hesitation, he leaped off the edge, his body arcing through the air before landing with a soft thud on the ground below.

The young man approached the barracks, his eyes fixed on the structure with an unnerving intensity. He knocked out a nearby guard, taking the man's clothes after slitting his throat. The young man's actions were devoid of emotion, his movements mechanical and detached.

As he entered the barracks, the young man released a cloud of poisonous gas, thanks to his magic aptitude. His main element was nature, but he specialized in the sub-element of poison. The gas spread quickly, taking out the remaining guards.

The young man's rage was palpable, his anger and fury boiling over as he slaughtered the guards. One guard's face was crushed with a spear pole, his eyes impaled on the tip. Another guard was boiled alive, his screams echoing through the barracks.

The young man's smile was a cold, calculating thing, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. He burned the barracks to the ground, watching as the flames consumed the structure.

As the fire raged on, the young man stood waiting, his eyes fixed on the figure emerging from the shadows. It was Zenith Arxen, the commander of the royal guard.

The young man's anger and hatred boiled over, his eyes blazing with an intense fury. This was his 700th attempt at killing the commander.

"Oh, hello there, young Necros," Zenith said, his tone dripping with amusement. "Why are you trying to fight me?"

The young man equipped his karambit, punching the commander's face and shoulder before kicking him in the abdomen. However, Zenith's ability, Illusion King (rank B), allowed him to counterattack, stabbing the young man's head and killing him once more.

"I'm dead again," the young man heard, the voice belonging to Death herself.

The young man stood before Death, his gaze unwavering. "This is your 701st death, if I'm correct," Death said, her tone tinged with amusement.

The young man should have felt fear or respect, but instead, he seemed indifferent. "Open the portal, Death."

Death's expression remained neutral, but a hint of curiosity flickered in her eyes. "Very well, Aegis Diabolo."

The young man stepped through the portal, his mind fixed on a single word: "again."

He believed that this time, he could finally defeat the commander.

The young man's determination burned brighter with each failure, his resolve