The cataclysmic confrontation with the larger demon had not happened in this loop in a way that consumed the essence already stored in the title; the demon had killed me through the eviction rather than through the title-breaking attack, and the essence stockpile had survived the experience.
The fourteen demons were still stored, and I was grateful for that. Now, I had a reserve, no matter how small it was, and with the nature of the loop, this reserve would continue to grow faster than anyone could ever catch up with.
I had a title with a quantifiable fuel supply and the ability to add to that supply by killing more demons. The title would evolve at thresholds I did not yet know but could approach by adding kills to the reserve.
The path forward was visible, and there was no need to deliberate much on what was to come.
I got off the cot, and immediately, I knew that just this act of standing felt different.
I had registered the Endurance crossing and the Mortal Shell acquisition as numbers; however, it wasn’t until the first physical confirmation of what those numbers meant that they really sank into my consciousness.
My legs took my weight without the small fractional effort the body had always required to absorb the change from horizontal to vertical.
I sucked in a breath, and my ribs sat in my chest with a new solidity that made me feel like I was wearing armor.
I was a more durable instrument than I had been a moment before, but this instrument was still small.
I was sixteen years old, and I was nothing compared to the demon that killed me, but death was refining me, and that refinement was permanent, and every future refinement would compound on what had already been done.
I picked up my staff. The three charms settled upon it, Mel, mum, and dad.
Perhaps it was because they were the last things I saw before killing myself that allowed me to enter the dream.
The charms had been three pieces of metal at the start of my journey to the Academy. They were now condensed memories and condensed love that stayed with me through the madness.
I stood beside the cot for a moment and considered what I now held.
I held a Broken-Celestial skill at six ranks, an Epic title with stored essence from fourteen demons, three Acolyte-tier disciplines, and four Acolyte-tier Auxiliary Skills.
I had Mortal Shell begin the work of making my body harder to break and harder to remove me from.
I had the memory of my father and his words to me, but I was still nothing compared to the larger demon.
I knew that, but it did not change what I was going to do.
®
I opened my notebook to a clean page, even though the page would always be clean after every reset, and I wrote the plan.
One. Hunt demons. As many as I can. The title needs essence. The essence is the fuel that lets me face that horned demon.
Two. Grind the disciplines. Push all three toward the Adept threshold of sixty. Push Anima Depth to fifty and beyond.
Sustained practice between fights. No wasted time.
Three. Grind Mortal Shell. The skill grows from sustained binding work between soul and flesh and from the body absorbing damage that does not break it.
Meditation. Conscious presence. Holding myself together through every death.
The next break is going to come whether I plan for it or not, and Mortal Shell needs to be high enough that the next break does not finish me.
Four. Investigate Rex, the Commander and Scholar Orath.
I read the four objectives, and the massive task before me was still massive, but I had a visible plan that I could follow, and then I closed the notebook.
The plan was not a winning plan; it would not save my friends or anyone else in this loop. The plan was for the loops after this one. The plan was for the version of myself that would emerge from many more iterations, with more essence stored, more ranks earned, and more knowledge accumulated.
The question was whether I would stand up.
I was standing up, and I pushed open the tent flap.
Here we go again.
I crossed the camp toward the cookfire without rushing. Dara looked up at me, and there must have been something in my eyes because she froze.
Bari was complaining about the porridge. Rex was watching the pyramid with a bowl in his hands, but I did not join them... Why am I wasting my time eating and cooking?
Bari looked at me strangely as I walked past. He said something, but I did not stop to hear what he was saying.
I knew that being snobbish to my friends was unnecessarily cruel, and they would not understand the reason I was being such a massive asshole, but there would be time later to apologize, even if they would not remember what I did, I would remember, and I would apologize.
Glancing at Rex, who was looking at me strangely, I walked to the south face, figuring out that I may have about forty minutes before the eruption began.
Arc Lightning was at the Acolyte tier, and this would be what I would be working with.
With the dual channel with Surge, and Staff Resonance attuning the staff to my casts, and Mortal Vessel deepening the bond and hardening my flesh with every breath I took, I began to practice.
I cast practice arcs into the empty air using the smallest amount of Anima that I could manage.
Using the barest amount of soul power was almost as effective when practicing as doing it with a whole lot of soul power.
I tested the directional control, the Concentration grip, and the Surge-Arc combined channel and felt it open without strain, smoother than ever.
Before now, such drastic progress would make me grin, but I knew that it was not enough.
I let Mortal Shell settle into me and felt the binding deepen with each cycle of breath.
The air around me pulsed with static charge as the minute passed, and anytime I went below 95% Anima Depth, I slowed down and meditated, bringing me back up to a hundred percent before I continued.
Notifications were ringing in the back of my head, but I pushed them aside, using every single second that I had.
The foghorn sound resounded, and the pyramid began to pulse; the sky darkened as a storm descended, but I did not flinch, even as the ground began to crack.