A void. No floor, no ceiling, no walls. Just endless, blinding white stretching into infinity. Souta stood—or perhaps floated—somewhere in the middle of nothingness, an eerie weightlessness pressing on his being. His legs moved, but there was no ground beneath him. His mind reeled, unable to grasp the sheer impossibility of his situation.

  “Where… am I?…” he muttered, his voice small against the endless silence.

  Then, like a dam breaking, memories surged forth.

  △▼△▼△▼△

  The air reeked of hot metal and concrete dust. Sweat clung to Souta’s skin as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, squinting up at the half-finished scaffolding above. The steel frame groaned, a high-pitched, grating whine that sent a shiver down his spine.

  Something wasn’t right.

  A sudden, thunderous crack split the air. His stomach lurched as the world above him gave way. The screech of twisting metal. The split-second shadow of falling debris. The deafening crash.

  A thick metal pipe slammed into his left shoulder, shattering bone with an ear splitting pop. Fire erupted through his nerves. He barely had time to gasp before another struck his ribs, flattening them like brittle twigs. A sickening crunch. The breath driven from his lungs. His knees buckled, body folding under the weight of the assault.

  Then came the killing blow.

  A jagged, rusted pipe, thick as a man’s wrist, plummeted like a headsman’s axe. It struck the top of his skull and kept going. A wet, meaty crack as the bone split apart. His brain, soft and vulnerable, gave way. Something warm splattered against his tongue—blood, thick and metallic, flooding his mouth. His ears rang, distant and hollow, like the world was slipping away. His vision flickered—shapes melting, colors running like wet paint.

  His body convulsed, fingers twitching as dying nerves fired their last, desperate signals. The pain was beyond agony—it was obliteration. His own blood drowned him, pooling in the back of his throat, spilling from his nose in thick, gurgling streams.

  His final thoughts were fragmented, scattered like the shattered pieces of his skull.

  Souta Minami was gone. A ruined sack of flesh and bone, splayed lifeless in a growing pool of red.

  △▼△▼△▼△

  He gasped, body shuddering despite the lack of wounds. His hands flew to his head, patting, searching, dreading the hole that should have been there. But there was nothing. Not even a scar.

  “What the actual hell…?”

  “Young man~” a soft, teasing voice called out, cutting through his panic.

  Souta spun around. A figure stood before him—a silhouette, shrouded in shifting shadows, feminine in form yet void of distinct features.

  “My… what a handsome young man you are,” she mused, her voice lilting with amusement.

  Souta stiffened. “Grim… Reaper—?!” His hands shot up in surrender, eyes wide with fear. “Listen—I don’t know what kind of cosmic mistake led me here, but I have a dad, alright? My parents are divorced, and I’m the only one he has! I can’t just die like this, please—”

  She held up a hand, silencing him. “Calm yourself. I am no ‘Grim Reaper’.”

  “Then what the hell are you?!”

  “Witch,” she said, “The Witch of Time. I see all past, present, and future. And you—Souta Minami—are already dead.”

  His breath hitched. “What…? No, that’s… that’s impossible. I feel alive. I—” His voice cracked, his chest tightening. “Oh right—the memories…”

  He swallowed hard before stammering, “I’ve really died, huh?—It’s not my imagination, huh?… Dad… You—you’re a witch of time, right? You can view the past and future, right? Can you peek into the future and tell me how my dad is doing without me?”

  He looked at her eyes… or where eyes were supposed to be, with a glint of hope.

  She stood silent for a moment before answering, “If I tell you what’s going to happen, it won’t happen. So for his and your’s sake, all I can say is, don’t worry about it.”

  The place fell silent as Souta lowered his head, mumbling, “Oh…”

  His head remained low. The shadowy figure stood still for a bit and then started, “Are you o—”

  “Well, whatever,” he cut her off, wiping the tears that had formed in his eyes. “It’ll be hard not to think about my father, but I guess I can live with the hope of seeing him again… someday… if that’s—that’s even—possible… even if just once…”

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  His voice cracked. Tears spilled over as he dropped to his knees, hands covering his face.

  The shadowy figure softened. She stepped closer, her voice gentler this time. “Don’t worry—it’ll all be okay, Souta Minami. Stand up. Let’s focus on what we have in hand now.”

  Souta took a shaky breath. His body felt heavy, like the weight of everything he had lost was pressing down on him. But after a few moments, he wiped his face and let out a slow exhale.

  “Yeah… You’re right,” he muttered, forcing himself to his feet. His legs were unsteady, but he stood tall regardless. “I can’t just sit here crying forever. I’ll deal with it… somehow. Alright… I’m ready.”

  She tilted her head. “Good.” A small pause, then, “I’ve granted you an ability.”

  His brain screeched to a halt. “...What?”

  “An ability,” she continued, ignoring his slack-jawed stare. “A gift, if you will. You can go back in time whenever you die, and return to se—”

  His face twisted and he interrupted, “WHAT KIND OF SICK JOKE IS THAT?! IT SOUNDS PAINFU—”

  A snap of her fingers. Silence.

  His mouth wouldn’t move. No sound escaped his lips no matter how hard he tried to yell.

  She sighed. “I do not appreciate interruptions. Now, where was I… Ah, yes. This ability will let you go back in time to set checkpoints whenever you die so that you can overcome your fate and do things right. Now, name it.”

  Souta, still muted, pointed frantically at his mouth.

  “Oh, apologies.” She undid the spell.

  “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT, YOU WITCH?!” he exploded.

  “My, my,” she said, feigning innocence. “I may have a short temper regarding interruptions. But speaking freely is a right of every human, is it not? Now, hurry and name your ability.”

  Souta scowled. “Tch. Give me a sec... ‘Mors Revixio’—Latin for ‘Death Revival’ if memory serves.”

  The witch’s shadowed form seemed to brighten in intrigue. “Latin, huh? Never heard of it. Not sure anyone in this world has. The Witch of Knowledge might find you… interesting. But be careful. She’s barmy.”

  Souta blinked. “Who the hell still uses ‘barmy’ in this age?”

  She smirked. “Tch—So annoying. Now, do you have any other questions or I should just teleport you to the new world? I have other matters to attend to.”

  He raised a finger. “Yeah, one logical question. What about the langua—OH WAIT. HOW AM I SPEAKING THE SAME LANGUAGE AS YOU?!”

  She chuckled. “You’re so naive. Leave it to me.”

  Before he could argue, she snapped her fingers again. Another figure materialized beside her, wreathed in fire. It raised a hand, its deep voice resonating through the void.

  "Sleep... in the holy flames."

  In an instant, fire consumed the white void.

  “Wait, wait, WAIT—You said—!” he cried out, his voice desperate, before the flames consumed him, dragging him into unconsciousness.

  △▼△▼△▼△

  He woke with a strangled gasp, his eyes not open, his lungs searing, his body convulsing as if still consumed by fire. Agony ripped through his nerves like white-hot embers burrowing into his flesh.

  A scream tore from his throat.

  “AAAHHH! I'M BURNING! HELP! IT HURTS!”

  He thrashed wildly, rolling across the ground, clawing at his clothes, slapping his arms, legs, chest—anywhere the phantom flames might be. Dirt flew in all directions as his desperate struggle sent him sprawling.

  His panicked cries shattered the stillness of the garden, drawing gasps and murmurs from the growing crowd gathering around him.

  But as quickly as the pain came, it faded. His frantic movements slowed.

  Breathless, he opened his eyes. A ring of strangers stood around him, whispering, pointing.

  He froze——A beat of silence——Then, face burning red, he bolted.

  He ran until the voices faded, his breath ragged. Only when he reached a quieter part of the garden did he slump against a tree. He takes a deep breath and then begins walking slowly, complaining.

  “That damn witch… She said teleportation! Not ‘burn alive’ What kind of hellish torture was that?! But with this I also got a gist how fucking painful this ‘gift’ of her’s is. I better stay alive as much as I can.”

  As Souta dusted himself off, grumbling under his breath, he suddenly collided with someone, sending them sprawling onto the ground.

  A large stack of parcels tumbled down, books and wrapped bundles scattering across the dirt.

  “Ah, crap—” Souta groaned, stepping back. His gaze landed on the boy he had knocked over—bright red hair, warm orange eyes, and dressed in neatly tailored, if slightly rumpled, brown noble attire. He looked about the same age as Souta, but there was something delicate about him. His frame was thin, almost fragile, as if a strong wind might topple him over again.

  Souta blinked, his irritation fading. “Hey, you okay?” He reached out a hand.

  The boy hesitated before grasping it, his fingers trembling slightly as Souta pulled him up. “Y-Yes… but my things—” He glanced at the scattered parcels, distress flickering in his eyes.

  Souta exhaled, crouching down. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. You carrying a damn library or something?”

  A soft chuckle escaped the boy’s lips—weak but genuine. “They're alchemy ingredients. I was on my way home when—”

  “What’s your name?” Souta cut in, stuffing a book into the boy’s arms.

  The red-haired boy clutched it tightly, his grip careful. “Oh, um… Kaelith Valtor. And you?”

  Souta scoffed lightly. “Kaelith, huh? Fancy name. I’m Souta Minami.” He gathered the last of the scattered parcels before eyeing Kaelith’s precarious hold on the stack. “Here, you’re gonna drop these again. Let me take some.”

  Kaelith hesitated, then nodded, shifting part of the load into Souta’s hands. “Alright… Thank you.”

  Souta adjusted his grip before motioning down the road. “No problem. Just tell me where we’re headed.”

  Kaelith’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “Follow me.”

  As they walked, Souta exhaled, glancing up at the sky. The weight of his new reality settled over him—a different world, an uncertain fate, and an ability that might just be the death of him. Again and again.