The morning was fresh and clear as Prota and John walked into the clearing. There was a bit of a nip to the autumn air, quickly shaking Prota out of whatever drowsiness resided in her. She still couldn't tell what they were here for.

"Prota," John called out. "Here. Take this."

Prota flinched as she felt bloodlust coming from behind her. Where was it coming from? She turned to John, who gave her a small purple pill. There didn't seem to be anything special about it.

"That's poison," John explained. "I, uh… it's a good way to force a [Reset]. It's painless. Just bite down, and you'll wake up in the [Reset Room]. Pretty straightforward."

Prota was getting worried. Why was he giving her this? She grew even more concerned as she realized the bloodlust was coming from John.

"So, uh, it seems that I can only [Reset] if both of us are dead. Which kinda sucks."

He began to emanate a strong killing intent as he slowly pulled out his weapon, deliberately pulling his thumb down on the hammer until it was primed with a sharp click.

"Alright, Prota. I can't train you in magic. Only Kit can- well, actually, I guess anybody could. But right now, it's just you. What I can teach you is fighting. But you shouldn't consider this training. You should consider this a real fight. This ends when you kill me, got it?"

His left eye began to glow. His head ached a little, but it was pretty bearable. If Prota had to suffer, he'd also put in a little work. Besides, he'd be hurting in a lot of other ways soon enough. [Determination] wasn't here to kill the pain this time.

"Power: x100"

Prota's eyes widened. Her body reacted to the danger before her mind did, and when she looked again, there was a bullet embedded in a wall of ice she'd thrown up. There was also the still-hot muzzle of a gun pointed at her head.

"Too slow," John said quietly. "Try again."

Prota felt the metal of the revolver press against her head, and everything went dark.

~~~

"Hey," John said as Prota sat up.

He popped a chocolate into his mouth and tossed one over to Prota.

"You doing ok?"

Prota didn't know how she was doing. She could still feel the hot barrel touching her skin. It'd all happened so quickly that she'd barely had the time to process it.

She looked at John and saw him stiffen up.

"Hey. I probably should've asked before, but… are you ok with this? I just wanted to show I was serious, but…. yeah, it would've been better to ask about something like this. Sorry about that."

"Mm," Prota nodded.

"We can stop," John offered.

Prota considered the offer for a second. Did she want to stop? Her instincts said yes. Every time [Resets] were involved, it always wound up in a seemingly hopeless situation. But on the other hand, both instances of using this strange ability had pushed her to new limits.

The bandits. The goblins. Both situations had been incredibly difficult, but she couldn't deny that she'd come out stronger than before.

"You sure you wanna keep going?"

She nodded her head. This much was nothing.

~~~

Prota's eyes snapped open as she felt a cool breeze on her skin. Immediately snapping to attention, she saw John's hand squeeze the trigger. Mana surged through her body as she summoned an icicle, but it was too weak, and the bullet smashed through the ice, killing her instantly.

[Reset]

She'd learn from her mistake this time. She made an ice wall, but it was much smaller this time. The first ice wall had used up too much mana, which stopped her from reacting to John's second attack.

The strategy worked.

She was proud of herself for having gotten past the first step, but there was no time to celebrate. A gust of wind let her know something had changed. John had moved.

Did she dodge? Attack? Block, or—

Her vision went dark once more.

[Reset]

On the third attempt, she didn't hesitate and rolled to the side, dodging the first shot. At the same time, she summoned a fireball, but it was far too weak. John simply moved his head to the side, easily dodging the attack.

"Don't hold back!" John yelled, firing his pistol again.

It was the same issue she'd had in the cave. She couldn't attack her brother. She didn't have the will to do it. The idea of "protect" was so firmly integrated into her that she couldn't go against it. There was no way she could just—

[Just do it]

Prota flinched as she saw the message appear in her system again. What? Why was the system talking to her?

No. This wasn't the time to think.

Her reluctance to hit John disappeared as a burst of adrenaline coursed through her body. She didn't know where the energy came from, but it was so useful she didn't bother to question it.

Unfortunately, it was just a bit too late. She could only watch as a sword appeared in John's hands, rapidly filling her vision.

[Reset]

Attempt four. Five. Six, seven, over and over, they fought to the death, and each time, Prota would die, wake up in the [Reset Room], and push forward. Twenty deaths passed. Thirty, then forty, and they just kept coming. Over and over, she'd wake up in the stupid black room.

Granted, progress was being made. Each instance, she'd survive a little longer, get a little further. The problem was that she wasn't improving. She was simply learning John's attack patterns, learning how to deal with him, and that wasn't helpful.

She was learning how to fight John specifically. Not learning how to fight.

What was she missing? What was she supposed to do?

She didn't know.

~~~

"What is this feeling?"

Somewhere in the demon kingdom, Diaboli was experiencing a strange feeling. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it almost felt like she'd lived this day before. More specifically, the past hour. It wasn't clear, but she had a sense of déjà vu that wouldn't disappear.

That was ridiculous. How could anyone do something like that? The gods were the only ones who could wield such power, and they were restrained from doing such a thing.

As a result, she couldn't help but feel a little uneasy.

~~~

"John," Zero said quietly.

"I know."

John was looking at Prota, who was lying down in the [Reset Room] with blank eyes. As usual, her expression remained empty, but the light in her eyes was slowly fading. It was still there, but the longer this went on, the dimmer they would get. John didn't know how long it would take until they were blank. He shook his head. This had to stop at some point.

But he wasn't the one who should be making that decision.

"Why?" Zero asked suddenly.

"Why what?"

"Why are you pushing it so hard right now?"

John glared at Zero and scoffed. "I may be stupid, but I'm not that stupid. At some point, [Resets] are going to get removed from the set of abilities I can use. Every major [Plot Point] is a potential disaster."

There was no reply from the soul.

"Zero, it's not called [Plot Armour] for nothing. Given how involved we are with Fate and the [Plot], it's going to disappear at some point."

"...sure."

"Yeah, you're really helpful right now. Come on, the [Author] might be terrible at their role, but they can't possibly be that braindead. There's no penalty for my [Resets]. It has to be removed at some point. There're no stakes. No risk. For a [Character] who has the ability to lose as an [Anomaly], I'm sure as hell not losing with [Reset]. Right?"

There was no response. That was enough of an answer for John. He got up with a grunt and walked over to Prota.

"How're you doing?"

Prota just stared back at him with blank eyes.

"Wanna stop?"

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She didn't say anything.

"I'll take that as a yes," John sighed.

Over the course of seventy or so deaths, Prota had been stabbed, decapitated, sliced, cut and shot. Her pain tolerance was pretty high, so it wasn't the pain that was breaking her.

It was the shock of dying that was taking a toll on her mind. Living beings weren't meant to die more than once. It was what made them living beings. The fact that she'd been through this repeated death process and was relatively fine was a miracle in itself.

She was nearing her limits, though. Was it time to give up?

"This is good enough, Prota. You can stop. You've already improved an incredible amount."

She thought about it. She'd improved. John had said so himself. Maybe it was time to stop now. She could take what she'd learned and train more another day.

[Keep going, idiot.]

The system again. Who was sending these messages? It wasn't something coming through the message system; the words appeared directly in her vision.

"...Prota?" John called out hesitantly, but she wasn't paying attention.

Those words. As soon as they'd appeared, a new burst of energy had shot through her body. She had to keep going. This wasn't enough. If she stopped without gaining anything, then what was the point? Why was she training so much if she was just going to stop now?

She had to keep going. She wouldn't break here.

"Keep going," Prota said.

There was no hesitation in her voice.

John frowned. "Are you-"

"Go," Prota said forcefully.

John hesitated, but something was different. The light in her eyes. It was back and roaring with passion.

"Alright. It's your choice."

The room glowed white.

~~~

"If it isn't the masked marvel," Draco Wynton called out.

It seemed the fool had only one insult in his dictionary.

"Shut it before I bash your nose in," Fate growled.

"Oh, how bold-"

"Hey. By the way. You wouldn't have happened to hire mercenaries to, I don't know, capture us alive, right?"

Draco flinched. It was well hidden, but Fate noticed it. The noble backed off a little. No matter how much power he held, he couldn't get away with absolutely everything, especially if there were paper trails to follow. As long as there was a hint of doubt, the noble could escape taking responsibility for his actions, but with undeniable proof, he'd have to confess.

"I- I have no clue what you're talking about," Draco stammered nervously.

"That's good to know," Fate said quietly. "It would be a shame if you did."

The hero stood up and left, leaving the noble alone. As soon as he was gone, Draco clenched his fists.

"Those mongrels… I swear I'll make you pay."

~~~

The seventy-seventh fight. Seventy-six deaths. Seventy-six resets.

"Good!" John yelled as Prota leapt back to make distance.

She pointed her fingers at John, three fire arrows shooting out in rapid succession.

The fights had allowed Prota's skills to grow immensely. If Kit's lessons could be seen as theory, then John's fights were practice. It was one thing to learn how to do something; it was another to use it in battle.

Everything Kit had taught Prota: how to picture mana, how to gather it and control the flow, how to visualize magic itself, it was all coming together. The spells she'd cast over and over were flowing through her body as naturally as she might breathe. She didn't need to focus on her spells. She didn't need to visualize them. It was a matter of understanding that she needed fireballs, and they were there.

"Haah!" Prota yelled as she summoned a volley of icicles.

John raised his blade and charged, metal smashing into ice, fragmenting the spells into hundreds of shards. With a cry, his arms tensed, then thrust forward with incredible force.

Prota didn't block. Instead, she summoned a gust of wind at her feet, then threw down a small fireball, creating a weak explosion, kicking up dust and effectively creating a smoke screen. She couldn't see John's core, but Zero was inside of John, allowing her to see his position.

"Blossom of Ice," Prota whispered, and frost began to gather around her.

The flower was being built slowly, but it was much faster than before. She could hear John's footsteps getting closer.

"More. Just a bit more," Prota thought to herself, gathering the frost.

The dust began to settle.

John didn't say anything, but he was close. Her spell wavered just a bit. Still, she was confident that she'd get it done in time.

In a flash, Prota's eyes opened, two different hues of blue shining as her flower was complete. There was a slight moment of hesitation before she attacked, but it was small enough that it didn't matter.

"Blossom."

She saw John's face of surprise as he came through the dust, and satisfaction rose in her heart. Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy.

She stared at the blade that had gone through her stomach. John had attacked first.

It wasn't enough.

But she was close.

She just needed a bit more.

~~~

A hundred deaths. Despite everything, there was still a flame burning in her heart. Death after death, she had but one thought in mind.

She was getting stronger.

Her movements were quick and decisive; despite various mistakes, they were quickly fixed. Her spells were focused on efficiency and accuracy, wasting as few moves as possible. There was still a fraction of a second of hesitation before her attacks, but that wasn't too large of an issue.

The point was, she was adapting.

She was learning to move and attack without thinking, to see an attack and let her body dodge before she realized it'd happened. She didn't know how long they'd been fighting for. Minutes? Hours? Days? How much time had all these deaths totalled up to?

She didn't know. It was getting harder to think. But she couldn't give up now. Even if her brain stopped thinking, her body could not stop moving. She felt the wind rush by her as John's blade barely missed. The fact that she'd nearly died barely registered in her mind.

There was another gust of wind, followed by the crack of a gunshot. Still, her thoughts were but a haze. Prota's mind slowly swam back into focus as she saw a pillar of ice block another bullet.

She… did that?

She saw John move, and before she knew it, a volley of icicles had formed. They rained down on John, who managed to block most of them, but at this power level, it wasn't enough. He winced as a spell pierced his leg, significantly slowing down his movement.

At that moment, dozens of thoughts flooded into Prota's mind, information swarming all over the place. John's leg was injured. He was going to move slower. A fire arrow appeared in front of Prota, firing right towards John's head.

Unfortunately, a gun was faster than Prota's magic. Her body fell down as John put a bullet through her skull. It was a fast enough death that she didn't see John tilt his head just in time to dodge the arrow, but it'd been close. Too close.

"Fuck," John gasped as he watched Prota's body fall down. "I might really die at this rate."

~~~

They were back in the reset room again. Prota was lying on the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"John," she said in a flat voice. "How is John so strong?"

"I'm not," John said. "Mm… it's just an experience difference."

Experience? What did he mean by that?

"...what?"

John sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He felt a little weird, telling a kid that he was the stronger one between the two, but she was the one who'd asked, right?

"Well, think of it this way. Theoretically, you're stronger. You have mana. I don't. Easy victory for you, right?"

Prota nodded.

"But fights aren't just about theory. Here, put it this way."

John took out two bottles of water, one smaller than the other, as well as two cups. She didn't know where he'd gotten them from, but there was probably no point in asking. She'd seen him do the strangest things in this room, and this wasn't even close.

"This is you right now." He pointed to the larger bottle.

"This is me," he continued, pointing to the smaller bottle.

"This is the amount of power I'm using," he said, pouring out the whole bottle into a cup. "And this is how much you're using."

He poured out less than a quarter of the larger bottle into the other cup. John's cup had been filled to the brim. The example wasn't very good, but it'd made its point.

"I'm fighting the best I can. You… well, you're not. Not that it's your fault. It's just that, well, you haven't fought for nearly as long as I have."

John let the cups speak for themselves. Prota closed her eyes. She was strong? No.

"I'm not trying to suck myself off or anything, but I'm just more experienced than you are, Prota. Honestly, I'd be concerned if you had my level of experience."

She nodded. It made sense.

The important part of John's message, though, was that she could still get stronger.

~~~

101. 102. 103. The deaths kept racking up, but each time, she was getting just a bit closer. Every time, she'd survive for one more move—no, it wasn't survival anymore.

She was one step closer to winning.

Dodge. Attack. Block, parry, feint, repeat. She was no longer thinking about individual spells. It was time to think about magic as a whole. Her body was practically moving for her. Her mind could focus on other things, which would, in turn, allow her body to move even better.

It was monstrous growth. It was unrealistic growth.

But since when did fiction concern itself with realism?

105. 106. 107. 108. 109.

She kept getting closer and closer. The past five deaths had actually always resulted in a tie, just with her dying first.

So. Damn. Close.

"You're doing really well, Prota," John said in a concerned voice.

The 109th death. He took a peek at her condition, and he didn't like what he saw.

Prota was in a trance of sorts. A state between consciousness and a coma, her mind focused solely on battle. It was ironic. It was what John had been looking for, but at the same time, such a state wasn't healthy for the mind.

"Wanna know something?" Zero said quietly as Prota was once again lying flat on the ground.

John didn't turn, but he didn't say no, which, for him, was basically the same thing as saying yes.

"You were just like this. Kinda like a zombie," Zero said fondly.

"Really?"

"Back when… well, you know. You didn't have a choice back then. So your mind did what it could to protect itself. And look at where you are now."

John leaned back, closing his eyes. "Yeah. I guess."

"I thought you didn't care for [Characters]."

"Just because they're not real doesn't mean I'm a big fan of trauma. Zero, I care about efficiency, not suffering."

"But still, you don't usually care this much. Or am I wrong?"

John was about to reply when Prota sat up.

"Again," she demanded.

Her hair was all messy, covering her face, but the determination in her voice was unmistakable. She wasn't broken. Not yet.

"...too much isn't healthy, Prota," John said.

"I'm ok."

"Are you? Are you really?"

Prota nodded. "One more."

John sighed in resignation. He slapped his cheeks to wake himself up and walked over to the reset button. It wasn't exactly easy for him either, but if Prota was gonna keep going, then he couldn't get left behind.

~~~

Prota took a deep breath. This was it. The end was in sight. Her skills had been refined, her mind sharpened. All this training was for one thing, and one thing only.

It was a skill meant purely for combat.

John, as always, began the fight with a singular bullet, but instead of blocking it, Prota shot out a fireball that melted the metal to slag. It kept going, forcing John to dodge and fire another bullet.

"What the-" John started, momentarily startled by the molten bullet. "That's- that shouldn't be possible. You can't just melt a travelling bullet. That's- you know what? We'll chalk that up to a deus ex machina or something."

Unfortunately for Prota, she was caught so off guard that she didn't take the opportunity to attack. Still, she was doing well.

After a while, Prota was beginning to see a few patterns in John's combat. No matter how flexible his style was, there were bound to be repetitions in his attacks. He was limited to certain movements. Shoot, slash and hit. All three attacks could be dealt with in one way or another.

John had always been right. Prota was stronger than him. She just needed to take advantage of that.

Her body was moving like a well-oiled machine, sometimes dodging attacks by a thread. A hundred and ten deaths. Dozens of hours of nothing but fighting later, there was no longer a delay between her thoughts and her actions. There was no need to think about every little move. For each action, there was a pre-programmed reaction that her body could do without her needing to command it.

If John raised his arm to fire, she could dodge or block. She would only ever need to move so many steps, block with only so much ice. In her arsenal were counterattacks, feints, combinations, barrages, and there was no longer a need to decide which one to use. All she needed to do was realize that an attack was coming, and her body would naturally do the rest.

She was fighting with instinct. Of course, she was still thinking. She was still analyzing, looking at the battle, deciding what her next course of action was, but she was no longer fretting over what spell to use or whether to dodge or block.

With a final cry, she formed her Blossom of Ice in one hand while holding a fireball in the other. She cast fireball after fireball to stall John's approach while her other spell continued to form in her hand. John kept pushing forward, a cold, dead look in his eyes, but Prota only flinched a little.

It was no longer enough to make her stop.

"Haah!" she cried out, bringing her arm up.

The split second of hesitation in her attacks didn't matter. The flower exploded directly into John's face, blowing his head off. A quiet wind blew through the trees as Prota fell to her knees, panting. John's body fell to the floor with a silent thud.

"I… I did it…"

She fumbled around the pockets of her cloak and found the purple pill John had given her. How long ago had it been? Technically, less than an hour. But at the same time, it'd been a lot more than that.

Her hands shook as she looked at the pill. It was ironic.

She'd won. There was no celebration. No tangible reward. She'd die and come back, and it'd be as if nothing had ever happened.

But she was stronger.

How strange it was for her reward to be death. But somehow, this death felt better than any life she'd lived.

With a sigh of satisfaction, she closed her eyes and swallowed the pill.

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