Kairos' lungs burned as he sprinted through the twisting slums of Lugnica's underbelly, Mira's hand clamped in his like a vice. The girl's grip was iron despite her size—fingers callused from God-knows-what survival scraps. Behind them, horns blared like angry gods, and the thunder of hooves shook the mud-churned paths. *Royal guards. For bread? This place is insane.*
"Left! Through the tannery!" Mira hissed, yanking him into a fetid maze of hanging hides and bubbling vats. The stench hit like a fist—rotting flesh and lye. Kairos gagged but followed, ducking under low beams as shouts echoed closer.
They burst into a wider square, where beggars scattered like roaches and a one-eyed hawker flipped skewers over a fire pit. Mira shoved him toward a pile of crates. "Climb! Roof hops to the old mill."
Kairos scrambled up, muscles screaming from the unfamiliar strain. *Body's better here. No gamer gut.* From the rooftop, he glimpsed their pursuers: ten armored knights on snorting steeds, led by that silver-haired woman—Lirien. Her face was calm, almost sorrowful, as she raised a hand glowing with soft white light. Mana? Magic? A guard's spear hurtled toward them, glinting.
"Down!" Mira tackled him off the edge into a hay-strewn alley. The spear *thunked* into the roof tiles above. They rolled, breathless, laughing in that delirious way only near-death allows.
"You're nuts," Kairos panted, wiping sweat from his brow. "Who *are* those guys?"
Mira snorted, peeking out. "Dragon riders for the royal candidate. Lirien the half-breed—they think she's cursed. You really summoned, huh? Naked, no brand, fighting like a demon."
"Summoned? Truck hit me—next thing, here." He tested the truth. Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded, like it wasn't the weirdest story she'd heard.
They crept onward, slums unfolding into a labyrinth of thatch hovels, feral dogs, and wide-eyed kids who stared like he was a ghost. Mira bartered his "heroics" for clothes at a rag stall—loose tunic, pants that itched, boots too big. "Owe me," she grinned, tossing him a heel of bread.
Kairos devoured it, stomach twisting. *First meal in... forever?* "What's the deal with Lirien? Why chase us?"
"Thieves' code—you helped, we're square. But she sniffs out magic. Yours?" Mira tapped his chest. "Felt it when you smashed that thug. Echo something?"
He froze. *She noticed?* No time to unpack. Voices neared—different this time. Rougher.
Three shadows blocked the alley mouth: leather-armored guild rats, same as before but fresh faces. "Little rat and her stray. Boss wants words."
Mira cursed, knife out. Kairos grabbed a loose pipe—better than brick. *Loop two worked. Adjust.* They charged.
Kairos swung low, cracking knees. Mira danced high, slicing hamstrings. One thug lunged at her; Kairos clotheslined him into a wall, skull meeting stone with a sick *crack*. But the leader was smarter—dagger feinted left, plunged right into Kairos' thigh.
Agony flared. He staggered, pipe dropping. "Mira—run!"
She didn't. Spun and buried her blade in the man's neck. Gouts of blood painted her face. They stood panting over corpses as silence fell.
"You're bleeding bad," she said, ripping cloth for a tourniquet. Her hands shook. "Why'd you jump in again?"
"Can't let you die alone." *Not after last loop.* The words slipped out. Her eyes searched his, haunted.
Distant horns again. Mira pulled him into a derelict shack, barricading the door with a plank. Rain pattered through holes in the roof. She lit a stub candle, revealing a nest of stolen trinkets and a threadbare mat. "Safe for now. Talk. Who *are* you, Kairos Vale?"
He blinked. "You said my name?"
"Eavesdropped in the alley. Sounded right." She smirked, but it faded. "This world's shit. Demons eat villages, kings fight proxy wars, magic eats the weak. You fight like you *know* what's coming."
Kairos hesitated. *Test the waters.* "Ever feel like you've lived this before? Like a bad dream on repeat?"
Her face paled. "Nightmares. Everyone has 'em here. Prophecies or something." A beat. "Stay. Guild'll hunt till dawn."
He nodded, thigh throbbing. As she curled up opposite, knife close, Kairos stared at the moons through cracks. *Power's real. She's key. But how many deaths till I save her for good?*
Outside, a shadow moved—unnatural, cloaked. Red eyes gleamed in the dark. A whisper slithered through the walls: *"Fresh echo... tasty."*
Kairos bolted upright. Too late. The door splintered. Claws raked his chest, ripping flesh to bone. Pain beyond the truck, beyond the sword. Mira screamed as a demon beast—horned, slime-dripping—pinned him. Fangs sank in.
Darkness. Reset.
Same alley. Naked. Moons mocking. Third time. Demon next. Fix it.
⚔️ To be continued!