My status screen only showed me the numbers, but I could feel these changes inside of me, and they were startling.
Anima Depth, the core stat of any Mage, had grown, and that meant I could feel it. Even if this change only grew by a single point, it was like my soul had added a new inch to it.
Every change in the Anima Depth enhanced the body as a feedback for having a stronger soul.
Warriors trained their bodies, but Mages were the greatest power in the world because even without training their bodies, the increasing strength of their Anima Depth ensured their bodies were always growing stronger.
Something about having a shell strong enough to hold a powerful soul, and this was what all Acolytes were trained to understand: that their bodies were not what was truly important, only their soul.
Already, I could see farther than most people ever could. I have not gotten sick in ten years, and even though it took a while for cuts to heal, there was usually no scar left behind as the power of our growing soul forced our body to perfection.
Still, all of these fantastic changes I was feeling in my body were also greatly enhanced by the fact that so many of my Auxiliary Skills had grown as well.
My Cooking had grown by one point, my Concentration and Observation grew by two points, my Meditation grew by four points, and most shocking of all was my Endurance, which grew by a whopping six points.
All of these changes across my body could not be faked, and I was used to slow growth, same as everyone else, but I guessed this was the sort of progress you made at the edge of death, where you did not expect to live.
I sat with the status screen open for a long time.
Not reading it anymore. Just looking at it the way you look at something after the initial shock has passed, and you are trying to decide what relationship you intend to have with it going forward.
What drew my attention a bit was my Spark, which had grown quite a bit, and I remembered that of all my spells, it seemed to have done better than I expected, despite it being so low-cost that I could spam it as much as I wanted.
The numbers were real. The title was real. Death-Touched, I had not chosen it, had not been offered a selection, it had simply appeared the way titles apparently appeared when the world decided something significant had happened to you. The world had decided that dying and returning qualified.
Then the sound like a massive foghorn resounded, and I coulf feel it touch the core of my being, and stirred my soul.
"VHROOOMMMM!!"
The light streaming into my tent turned red, and I knew that I had spent too long just understanding and adjusting to the changes that had happened to me, and the danger was already here.
From the time I spent meditating to going through my status screen, the world had not stood still.
All across my body, goosebumps rose all over my flesh.
I hated to admit it, but I suddenly began to panic as the image of my body flopping around without its head was branded to my consciousness, and the pain of being thrown around and impaled had not fully dissipated from my mind.
The thought of being brutally killed like this again made me freeze in place, and when the sounds of screaming and spells being thrown around reached my ears, only then did I think to move.
My mind went straight to Bari, my best friend, and Dara, even Rex, I should find them so we could run, and...
A massive shape tore through my tent, and I could barely discern the shape of the demon before it tore through my raised arms, plunged its two front limbs into my body, and tore me into four pieces.
I could not even scream, only lie there in pieces until blood covered my eyes and death took me again.
"Up, up, lazy cur. Elric, I say, wake up!"
I shot up from the bed, my hand seizing the floating silver orb, and my heart beating faster than normal.
This is the second time I had died, and I wished it had become easier, but it did not; the trauma only compounded.
There were voices at a conversational volume, the clank of instruments being prepared for the day’s work, the smell of cook fire smoke drifting through the canvas.
Somewhere, Pell was complaining about something. He was always complaining about something, and every morning for as long as I had been on this expedition, I had found it mildly irritating, and this morning I found it the most comforting sound I had ever heard.
Pell was alive.
Dara was alive.
Bari was alive, and his sock still had a hole in it, and he did not know that, less than an hour ago, or perhaps many hours ago, or perhaps no time at all, I did not yet understand the mechanics, something had pulled him apart.
Rex was alive, and wherever he had gone when the demons came, he was here now, probably arranging his hair.
Commander Rel was alive. Scholar Orath was alive and was almost certainly already at the pyramid’s base with his private instrument pressed against the black surface, listening to whatever it was he heard through it.
They were all alive... For now.
I pressed my palms flat on my knees and looked at the wall of my tent and thought with the careful deliberateness of someone who has just had something very large confirmed and needs to organize their response to it before it becomes overwhelming.
Facts, in order.
First: I had died... twice. Not dreamed of dying. Not nearly died. The title Death-Touched and the skill gains that had survived the reset and the condition of my mental state from the previous loop, all of it confirmed what my body had already known when I woke with my hands at my throat.
Second: the world had reset. Not my memory. Not a dream. The world, the camp, the people in it, the pyramid, the hour, had returned to a fixed point, and I had returned with it, carrying everything I had learned and gained.
Third: this would happen again. The ground would split. The demons would come. Everyone would die.
Unless I did something different.