The 98th loop unfolded like any other loop. Dragging Chloe to the future, awakening her Solar Flare. And the ten days of hellish training on the island.
Then came the Apocalypse. With its chaotic wave that swept through the world. Splitting continents, shattering cities, awakening humans to unnatural abilities, and birthing countless beasts. Everything was the same except—
DING.
[ New Ability Acquired — ???? ]
Mike's eyes burned with heat so sharp it felt like molten iron was poured into his skull. His knees buckled as he clutched his face in agony. Enhancements had always come as surges of energy, intoxicating floods of strength. But this time, power arrived as punishment.
"What... is this?" His voice broke through clenched teeth.
He had expected an enhancement of his telekinesis, or a clue to his still-unknown ability. Instead, something new clawed its way into him.
His blue eyes quaked with pain, and then the left eye turned bright silver. Metallic, unyielding. It glowed faintly, casting pale light even in the shadows.
"Your... eye, it's turned white," Mio whispered, her storm aura bristling.
"You mean silver, dumbass," Chloe snorted, her tone sharp, though her gaze lingered longer than usual.
Mike staggered upright, blinking. But his vision no longer belonged to him alone. The world split into two layers: one ordinary, one drenched in shadowed distortions. Phantom silhouettes walked in that other layer, moving independent of distance, untethered from light.
At first he thought it hallucination—until the laughter came.
Brad's laughter. That venom-laced echo. And with a twitch of his silver eye, Mike saw him. Not hidden, not untouchable. A silhouette of absence, stalking the ruins.
"There..." Mike gasped. "I can see him."
But sight was not salvation.
The battle tore open as always. Chloe burned with her Solar Flare, Mio's storm shielded their path, and Mike raised his telekinesis like a wall. Yet the Sight betrayed its cruelty. The silver eye revealed every strike, every killing motion seconds before it landed—knowledge without answer.
Mike saw Chloe's death before it happened. The flare cut short, her chest pierced. He saw Mio's fall, her Absolute Protection cracking like thin glass. He saw it all, helpless.
The loop ended as all others—with loss. But this time, the helplessness carved deeper. Sight had not saved them. It had cursed him to watch.
---
Loop 99
Mike awoke to the same sterile ceiling, the silver glow faint in his left eye. The truth settled heavy in his chest: sight wasn't enough.
This time, he chose differently. No speeches. No desperate stand. He simply left.
He wandered for years. Through deserts where skyscrapers jutted like broken teeth. Through forests twisted by beasts. Through silent ruins where echoes lived longer than people. His telekinesis sharpened in isolation, his unknown ability stirred faintly, but the Sight remained hollow.
And then—an asylum. Its rusted gates sagged, its windows gaped like broken eyes. Inside, silence reigned. He welcomed it.
But silence never lasts.
A blur cut through the dark. Too fast to follow. His telekinesis caught it mid-lunge, suspending the intruder in midair like a trapped insect.
"Hehe!" The figure giggled, not screaming, not struggling. "You're so strong, mister."
The voice was feminine. Playful. Wrongly playful.
Mike's tone was cold. "I don't want to hurt you. Leave, while you still can."
She tilted her head, messy pink hair falling over one eye, a psychotic smile stretching her lips. "Hurt me? You wouldn't."
He dropped her. She landed effortlessly, barefoot and unbothered, stepping into a shaft of moonlight. Her short hair was wild, her pink eyes too bright, her asylum uniform torn and bloodstained.
And she smiled. Wide. Radiant. Unbroken.
"You're really strong, mister," she repeated, swaying on her heels. "Can I stay with you?"
Mike's answer was sharp. "No."
But her stomach growled, low and feral.
He blinked. "…That was you?"
She nodded, giggling.
Mike sighed. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a blanket and tossed it to her. "Cover yourself. I'll make us something to eat."
She caught it like treasure. Wrapped in the blanket, she plopped to the floor, legs swinging like a child. "Hehe… I like you, mister."
Her pink eyes glowed in the firelight. For the first time in ninety-nine loops, Mike felt something foreign creep into his chest.
Uncertainty.
---
The fire crackled, casting faint warmth into the ruined asylum. The girl devoured the food he made, grease glistening on her lips.
Finally, she tilted her head. "What's your name, mister?"
"…Mike."
Her grin widened. "Mikey-kun. Hehe… that suits you better." She tapped her chest with mock pride. "Emiko. But you can call me Miko. Only people I like get to."
"Mikey-kun," she echoed again, savoring it. Then her gaze sharpened. "How can someone so strong look so tired? Like you're not fighting something—" her smile cut wider "—but running from it."
The words lanced deeper than he expected.
"You think I'm running?" he said at last. His voice was weary. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm tired."
She leaned close, smile unwavering. "Running's funny. Everyone runs. From screams, from promises, from themselves. But running's lazy. Running's safe until it isn't. Then it's just… delicious."
Mike didn't answer.
She went on, eyes gleaming. "You're strong. But strength alone breaks. Monsters eat the lonely. If you want to win? Don't be the lone hammer. Make a toolbox. Make a team. Let people be what you can't."
The madness of the words didn't blunt their edge. Something in him shifted, small but real.
"You think joining hands solves everything?" he asked.
"Not if you're the same idiot," Emiko snapped. "Teach them to fight. Teach them to laugh while they bleed. Or don't. I don't care. But if you're going to keep running, at least run with someone who enjoys the scenery."
For just a heartbeat, the grin cracked. He thought he saw a tremor in her fingers, as if chains had once bitten them too deep. But the smile returned, bright and unbroken.
"I've run, too," she whispered. "Smiled the whole way. Hated what chased me, loved how it made me fast. But no one survives forever alone."
Her words echoed like seeds falling into stone.
That night, he stayed. They spoke in fragments—her warped anecdotes, her laughter masking scars. He shared nothing of the loops. He couldn't.
When dawn came, he left with her words like splinters in his chest.
---
The apartment door creaked open. Mike's chest tightened. For the first time in many loops, he dared to hope.
But the smell killed hope at once.
Bodies sprawled across the floorboards. Chloe's hair lay in a halo of blood. Mio's storm-colored eyes stared blank and glassy. Their powers left faint echoes even in death—Chloe's burnt flare still glowing faintly, Mio's aura twitching like broken static.
He fell silent. Grief pressed down with suffocating weight.
Emiko's voice rang in his skull: Make a team. Don't run forever.
But his friends were already gone.
He arranged their bodies gently, hands trembling. Sat with them in the silence until the day turned dim.
He thought of all the loops. Of the numbers he had counted like scripture. Of the inevitability that pressed like a tide.
And he made his choice.
If death was a door, he would open it himself.
There was no speech. No drama. Only resolution. He would reach Loop 100.
The world narrowed. His last sight was of his fallen friends.
DING.
[ Regression Initiated. ] [ Entering Loop 100. ]
The number burned across his mind like scripture. The hundredth bell had finally tolled.