That Time Subaru Woke Up As A Demon Girl

[McPhoenixDavid]

The moon hung high above, pale and swollen like it had too much sake, spilling its silver light across the trees. The night was thick with silence, only the rustle of leaves breaking through. Subaru blinked once, twice, then again, harder this time, as if maybe the act of forcing his eyes shut and opening them would make sense of what had just happened.

Nope. Still here.

The very last thing he remembered was the universal joy of finishing a long, well-earned piss behind the corner store—pants zipped, whistling, life good. And now… now he was in a forest. Not just any forest either. The trees stood tall and jagged, their bark warped like old scars. Their branches reached for the sky in crooked fingers. The air was cool, damp, heavy with the smell of moss.

"What the hell…?" he muttered. His breath puffed faintly in the moonlight, his voice strange in his own ears.

Then came the weight in his hand. He looked down.

An axe.

Subaru tilted his head, blinked, squinted. An honest-to-god axe. He wasn't the type to handle tools—hell, even a butter knife was dangerous if you left him in the kitchen too long. Yet here it was, resting easy in his grip, as if his body had swung axes since the day it was born.

"Uh… huh? Why an axe? Did I get lumberjack DLC? Where's my tutorial screen?!"

He tried to drop it, but his fingers clung tight. It felt natural. Too natural. That alone gave him a shiver.

Then he noticed something even stranger. The fabric brushing against his arms and legs. It was soft. Flowing. A little tight in certain places.

"What the—"

He pinched at the hem of the fabric and pulled it up slightly. Frills. Ruffles. A skirt. His jaw went slack. He tugged further. Stockings. Tight stockings hugging smooth legs.

His pupils shrank.

"…No. No way. Why the hell am I wearing… this?! Some kinda crossdressing event? Did someone prank me?!"

The skirt swished when he shifted. Definitely real. Definitely on him. He staggered back, heart hammering, and almost tripped over a root.

Was this it? Was this finally it? His isekai protagonist moment?

The thought struck him like lightning.

He snapped his gaze skyward.

The stars. The stars would tell him the truth.

He tilted his head back, eyes widening. The heavens glittered with countless jewels, but none of them were familiar. No Orion's belt, no North Star pointing smugly in the distance. The constellations were alien, dancing in foreign patterns across the velvet sky.

"Yes!" Subaru pumped his fist at the heavens, practically hopping. "Yes, yes, yes! Another world, baby! Finally! Yoooosh!"

The axe gleamed in his hand like the starter weapon from every RPG ever. His gaze drifted down to his frilly attire. Maybe this was his beginner's gear. Once he leveled up, surely he'd unlock something cooler. Some flashy cape. A trench coat. At the very least pants.

For now, he'd take it.

"Step one," he whispered to himself, nodding seriously. "Slimes. Gotta kill slimes."

He clenched his free hand into a fist, feeling a strange excitement buzz in his veins. His tongue felt odd in his mouth, though. Like it was sharper somehow. His canines brushed his lip. And his breath—was it… heavier? Musky? Weird. Probably just the air here.

"Magic…" he muttered. His grin stretched wide. "I wonder if I can use magic. Fireball! Kamehameha! Hadouken!"

Nothing. Not even sparks.

"Alright, alright, calm down. Basics first. Slimes. Then fireballs. Easy."

He adjusted his grip on the axe and took a step forward.

The sound was soft, but there—a faint jiggle.

His brows furrowed. He froze, looked around. Nothing moved.

He took another step.

Jiggle.

Subaru's face twitched. "Wait a second…"

Slowly, carefully, he looked down at himself.

The stockings hugged his legs. The skirt swayed faintly in the wind. But higher up…

His throat went dry.

Two rounded shapes pressed against the front of his dress.

"No way…"

He lifted his trembling hand. His fingers were slender, delicate—nothing like the hands he remembered. He poked gently. The sensation shot straight through him like an electric current. His heart thumped hard.

He froze. Stared. Then poked again.

Foreign. Soft. Real.

"Oh… oh crap. No, no, no."

His hand didn't stop. It cupped. His eyes widened further.

"Don't. Don't do it, Subaru. Don't—"

He squeezed.

The world tilted.

"Mhm—" His breath hitched. "N-nope! Nope! Too real! Way too real!"

He yanked his hands back like he'd touched a hot stove. His entire body shivered.

His mind raced.

"Wait wait wait… Did I just…? Am I in a… femboy's body? That'd make sense, right? Right? Some girly boy with an axe? Yeah, that's not too bad, I can roll with—"

The moonlight stretched long and pale across the ground, catching his shadow.

He saw it.

Short bob-cut hair, tied in neat twin tails. A silhouette smaller, slimmer than his own had ever been. But what made his blood freeze were the two shapes jutting from the head.

Horns.

Long, curved horns. Eight, maybe eleven inches, sharp and gleaming faintly under the moonlight.

"…huh?"

Subaru reached up slowly. His fingers brushed against smooth, hard bone. His stomach dropped.

"They're real…" he whispered. His legs gave way, and he fell onto his butt. The impact didn't hurt, but something else did.

The sensation between his thighs.

A hollow emptiness.

His eyes went wide. His hands shot down. He grabbed. He searched.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The blood drained from his face.

Subaru's scream tore through the forest, high-pitched, shrill, and unmistakably girlish.

The sound startled birds from their branches, echoing across the trees. His own ears rang with the voice. That wasn't his voice. That wasn't him.

"Oh no no no no no—" he gasped, clutching his head. His twin tails bounced with the motion. His horns gleamed in the moonlight.

His entire body shook as he stared down at the dress, the stockings, the axe clutched so easily in his delicate hands.

This wasn't just another world.

This was another body.

And his voice—his scream still lingering—was proof.

A girl's.​

---

A/N: Hope you liked it. Please review! Also, you can read this ahead on my Patreon! Oh, and do join my Discord Server!

The image is drawn by the very talented artist called Eternal Whisper!

 

[To-be-hero-X]

Ohh is reincarnated in re zero or sousou no frieren world does he have RBD

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

Ohh is reincarnated in re zero or sousou no frieren world does he have RBD

Click to shrink...

Absolutely. RBD is a very significant aspect of the fiction.

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

Must Kill... Demons...​

---

The forest was still ringing with the echo of Subaru's—no, her—scream. It bounced between the trees, fading into the distance like the cry of something wounded. Her hands trembled where they clutched her skirt, knuckles white, breath stuttering in shallow, uneven gasps.



"No. No, no, no, no, no."



Her voice came out in that same high, lilting tone, like someone else was speaking through her mouth. She slapped her throat as if she could force the sound back into something familiar. "This—this isn't my voice! Stop it! Stop sounding like that!"



She coughed, desperate, trying to speak deeper. "Ah—hah—uh—" It only came out squeaky.



Panic crawled up her spine, cold and sharp. Her chest rose and fell too fast, lungs unable to keep up. Every breath made her dizzy, every inhale louder in her ears than the last. She stumbled backward until her heel caught on a root and she collapsed to her knees.



"No, no, no! It's just a dream! It's a prank! It's some weird… VR thing! It has to be!"



Her hands shook as she grabbed her horns again, pressing down, hoping they'd come off like props. They didn't. The pressure only made her wince.



She stared at her fingers, delicate and pale. Her nails glinted faintly in the moonlight. Even they looked wrong.



Her chest tightened. Her breath caught halfway out. "This can't—this can't be real. I was just at the store! I was just—!"



Her voice broke. She clawed at the frilly neckline of the dress, pulling until the fabric bit into her fingers. The lace scratched her skin, but she didn't care. She wanted to tear it off, to see if maybe her real body was hidden underneath, like a costume she could peel away.



Nothing. Just more smooth skin and the wrong curves beneath.



Her throat let out a strangled noise—half laugh, half sob. "I'm… I'm not even me anymore…"



The words didn't sound right in her mouth. She squeezed her head between her hands, pressing so hard it hurt, as if she could crush the confusion out of her skull. "Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up!"



No alarm. No sunlight. Just the chirp of night insects and the hum of wind.



"Damn it!" She slammed her fists into the ground. The dirt gave beneath her, soft and cold. Her fingers dug deep until soil packed beneath her nails. She dragged them across the earth in frustration, tearing lines through the moss. "Why… why me?! Who did this?!"



Tears burned her eyes, hot and furious, but she refused to let them fall. She pressed the back of her hand against her face, trying to wipe away the tremor in her lips. Her breathing came faster again, every inhale sharp and ragged.



The forest spun. She felt sick.



She wanted to scream again, but even that took too much effort. Her throat ached from the earlier outburst.



Her body trembled with each uneven breath until finally, she just collapsed backward, the axe slipping from her grasp and landing beside her with a soft thud.



The world swayed above her.



The sky stretched endlessly, filled with alien constellations that twinkled like mocking eyes. None of them were the stars she knew. The Big Dipper, Orion, all gone. Replaced by strange clusters and lines that spelled out a universe that had never once seen her face.



Her chest rose and fell slowly now, exhaustion replacing panic. Her hands lay limp beside her, streaked with dirt. The night breeze brushed her hair, cool against her tear-wet cheeks.



She stared at the stars for what felt like forever, her eyes unfocused.



It wasn't just a change of scenery. It wasn't just another world.



Her voice was gone. Her body was gone. Her gender. Her species. Everything.



A low, breathless laugh escaped her lips. It wasn't joy. It was disbelief, the hollow kind that came when reality had gone too far for the mind to follow.



"…Who… did this to me?" she whispered.



The forest didn't answer.



Only the leaves whispered back, and the stars kept on shining—strange, distant, and utterly indifferent.



The moon looked too calm for the mess of feelings boiling inside her. Subaru let out a sound that was half sob, half laugh, and curled inward until she could feel the cool earth press against her back. Dirt clung to her dress, to the stockings, to the skin of her hands. Her shoulders shook.



"I don't want this," she whispered, though the word felt foreign in her mouth. "I don't want boobs, I don't want a cute face, I don't want—any of this. I want my stupid flat chest back. Give me back my weenie! Give me Subaru Jr. back! I want—" Her voice broke. The rest dissolved into a ragged cry.



Images she loved—her mother's cooking, her dad's annoying jokes, that cramped little room she slept in—flashed behind her eyelids like a movie trailer. The ache for them clawed up her throat and turned into fresh, hot tears. "I want to go home," she said, small and raw. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for horns or a dress or… or whatever this is."



She hugged her knees close, trying to make herself smaller, to hide from the world and the new body that felt like a stranger's. The axe lay a little distance away, half-buried in moss. For a moment she let herself sink into the grief, letting it roll over her like a tide. Her breaths were shallow, her limbs heavy.



Then, quick and sharp as a slap, she smacked the side of her face with the heel of her hand. The sound cracked in the quiet night. "Wake up, you idiot," she hissed. "There's no time for sitting around crying. Crying won't fix this. Crying won't hand you back your—" Her lips twisted. She couldn't get the word out cleanly. "—your man bits."



Her palm lingered against her cheek. Tears dried and came back in new lines. She rubbed at her face until the stinging made her focus. The world narrowed down to the moon, the trees, the little patch of ground beneath her. The panic still threatened, but the slap had done its job: thought by thought, she shoved the worst of it into a corner and put a lid on it for now.



"Okay," she said aloud, the voice small but steadier. "No time to waste. Wallow later." She tried to make herself sound confident and found it sounded more like a half-baked promise. "For now—shelter. Food. Sleep. Questions come after."



She forced herself up. The motion felt odd. Her center of gravity was all wrong—her hips, her chest, the balance of weight that used to be familiar were rearranged like furniture in a house she didn't recognize. She swayed once, then gripped a low branch to steady herself. The dress flared when she moved; the stockings squeaked faintly where fabric rubbed fabric. Her chest had no support—no old comfortable armor of flatness—and the feeling of loose skin and movement made her stomach churn.



"My entire center of gravity is different," she mumbled, more to herself than anyone. She tested a step, then another. "Is there nothing supporting my chest? Ugh." Her fingers fluttered at the neckline for a second, awkward and protective, then she shoved them deep into her pockets—if the dress had pockets, they were just big enough. The action felt childish and brought a ridiculous little heat of embarrassment to her cheeks.



She walked to the axe, every step measured, and picked it up again. The handle fit into her hands like it belonged here—like it had always belonged here—and that tiny, ridiculous consolation made her snort. She dusted moss from the blade with the back of her hand. Dirt flecked her nails. Her movements were clumsy but practiced; she'd done worse with less experience.



"There," she said, standing up straight even though the posture felt strange. "See? Not dead. Can still hold an axe. I can still hit things. That's—useful." She glared at the trees as if the pines had ears and would be ashamed of themselves for conspiring. "I'll deal with the rest later. Pronouns, identity, fashion choices—all of it. Later."



Her voice wobbled once, then gained a rasp of brittle humor. "Even mentally calling myself 'she' makes me sick," she admitted to the silent forest. She picked at a loose thread on the hem as though it might be a leash to pull her back to normal. "But whatever. I'll cope. I'll be a… temporary she. Temporary Subaru. Temporary horned thing. Temporary frilly hat—whatever."



She tested the axe a few times against a low stump. The effort made a pleasant clunking sound and turned her anger into motion. Anger was easier to manage than panic, cleaner somehow. It gave her a target other than the impossible emptiness where her old life used to be.



"I swear," she muttered, breath cold in the night. Her eyes flashed up to the stars—foreign constellations glittering like someone else's roadmap. "Whoever did this—whoever plucked me out of my world and glued all this on me—I will make you pay. If you're some prankster demon, a witch, a pissed-off spirit, some immortal bird—" Her lip curled. "Even if you're a immortal phoenix or whatever, I'll find you."



She had to laugh at how ridiculous she sounded, and the laugh was a tiny, ugly thing, but it helped. She swiped at her cheeks again, gathering herself into a shape she recognized. She pushed the sleeves up a little, revealing forearms that looked more like hers than anything else. Dirt smudged the skin. That, at least, felt honest.



"First things first," she told herself. "Find shelter. Don't freeze. Don't get eaten by a bear or befriend a talking frog or some nonsense." The list in her head was a mess of fears and small plans: start a fire, check for food, find water, keep the axe handy, don't trust anyone who calls her 'cute' without permission. She blinked when the last one floated up, suddenly very wary of kindness.



She took a breath that was more determined than calm. The trees seemed to lean in, listening. A breeze played with her twin tails and teased the horns. For a flash, for a single heartbeat, the absurdity of the image—Subaru with horns, in a frilly dress, clutching an axe like a very confused lumberjack—hit her, and she couldn't help but let out a small, incredulous bark of laughter.



"Fine," she said, mouth full of moss-scented air. "You win, weird universe. But this isn't the end. Not for me." She shouldered the axe like a soldier and started walking, boots barely making noise on the soft soil. With each step she felt a hairline of resolve harden into something like a plan.



"I'll sleep somewhere safe tonight," she murmured into the dark. "And tomorrow? Tomorrow I start hunting answers. If it's a demon, a witch, or an immortal chicken, I'll drag them out by their feathers."



Her breath steamed in the night as she moved. Tears still promised to come at odd moments, and the ache for home sat like a rock in her chest, but she had traded the sharp, cliff-edge panic for a duller, steadier thing: fierce, stubborn purpose.



"Whoever did this," she said one last time to the empty trees, to the indifferent stars, to the moon that looked like it had seen stranger things and didn't care, "you messed with the wrong Subaru."​

---

The forest didn't change much no matter how far Subaru walked. Trees, endless trees, gnarled and ancient, their branches tangled like old spider webs. The air was thick with damp moss and the faint smell of pine, her boots squishing softly over the soil. Every now and then she'd stop to listen—maybe a river, a campfire, a monster grunt—but nothing came. Only her own breathing filled the silence.

She sighed, dragging her axe behind her, the blade cutting shallow trails through the dirt. "Nothing. Not even a stupid slime." Her voice echoed faintly, swallowed by the trees. "What kind of fantasy world doesn't even have tutorial mobs?"

Hunger gnawed faintly at her stomach. Her arms felt heavy. She considered sitting down but quickly shook the thought away. She'd been walking for what felt like hours—still no signs of people, roads, or even smoke. Not even animal prints.

"Great. I'm the main character of 'Lost: Forest Edition.'" She exhaled sharply, tilting her head back to glare at the foreign stars. "I swear, if this is some kind of purgatory, I'm suing someone."

She was about to drop onto a mossy rock and give up for a bit when something red flickered in her peripheral vision.

Her steps slowed.

There—between the roots of an old oak—lay a shape.

Her breath hitched. "...Wait."

A boy.

He was sprawled on the ground, face half-hidden by dirt and blood. His red hair glowed faintly under the moonlight, sticky with dried blood. His jacket—dark crimson with torn sleeves—was soaked through. He looked young, maybe her age, maybe younger. Black pants, heavy boots, and beside him, an axe.

An axe like hers.

"Oh crap…" Subaru's eyes widened. "No way. He must be—he must be the teammate of this body's original owner! Or… or maybe another victim of this cosmic joke."

She didn't waste time thinking. She rushed toward him, kneeling beside his body, the skirt brushing against mud and leaves. "Hey, hey! You're bleeding!" She paused and groaned. "Ugh, of course you're bleeding, what kind of dumb talk is that…"

Her eyes darted over him—no obvious bandages, no signs of life except the faint rise and fall of his chest. "Uh… right, healing! Every fantasy world has healing spells, right?" She lifted her hand above him dramatically. "Heal!"

Nothing happened.

"Okay, okay, maybe it's about conviction or something." She frowned harder. "Heal!"

Still nothing.

"Damn it!" Her voice cracked. "What kind of cheap system is this?! I can't even heal my own—"

She stopped when she heard a faint sound escape his lips.

Her head snapped down. "Huh? What are you saying?" She leaned closer, tilting her ear toward his mouth. "Come again? I can't hear—"

Shink.

Something cold sliced through the air by her neck.

Her breath caught.

For a second, the world seemed to lose gravity. The forest twisted. Her stomach floated. She was—weightless?

Her eyes fluttered open.

She was standing.

Still standing. A few meters away from where she had just knelt. The boy still lay there, bleeding, unmoving.

"What… what the hell?" she whispered. Her fingers brushed her neck instinctively—no blood, no cut. Just smooth skin and a faint chill.

Was that… a vision? A hallucination? Her heart pounded in her chest.

"Okay… okay, not freaking out again." She took a shaky breath. "Maybe I'm just tired. Yeah. That's it. Sleep deprivation and trauma equals—hallucinations. Great. Totally normal."

She gripped the axe tighter and stepped forward again. The boy hadn't moved. The same dirt, the same smell of blood.

She knelt, cautious this time, voice trembling but determined. "Hey, hey! You're bleeding… yeah, I know, déjà vu. Ugh, this feels way too familiar."

Her voice faltered. "Do I have healing powers? Heal! Still nothing? Okay, cool, game hates me."

She frowned and leaned closer once more, trying to catch whatever mumble came from his lips.

But this time, something shifted.

The boy's fingers twitched. His body stirred.

Her eyes widened as he suddenly crouched up, barely standing, blood dripping from his chin. In his trembling hand was his axe—raised, ready to strike.

"What the—hey! What are you doing?!" Subaru yelped, jumping back instinctively. She leaped a full meter—holy crap, she could jump like that?! Her boots skidded against dirt as she stumbled to steady herself.

The boy's eyes locked onto her. They were cloudy, half-mad, but full of hate.

"…demon…" he rasped, voice shredded from blood and rage. "Must… kill you…"

Subaru froze, staring, mouth dry.

What? Demon? Her?

Her grip on the axe tightened.

Was this… her first quest?

The boy lunged.​

---

To Be Continued​

---

A/N: Hope you liked it. Please review! Also, you can read this ahead on my Patreon! Oh, and do join my Discord Server!

 

[Daddycool101]

Did Subaru die and return to the point just before she meets Stark? That's cruel.

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

Did Subaru die and return to the point just before she meets Stark? That's cruel.

Click to shrink...

Yes, that's exactly what's happening.

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

Die, Faker​

---

The forest didn't change much no matter how far Subaru walked. Trees, endless trees, gnarled and ancient, their branches tangled like old spider webs. The air was thick with damp moss and the faint smell of pine, her boots squishing softly over the soil. Every now and then she'd stop to listen—maybe a river, a campfire, a monster grunt—but nothing came. Only her own breathing filled the silence.​

She sighed, dragging her axe behind her, the blade cutting shallow trails through the dirt. "Nothing. Not even a stupid slime." Her voice echoed faintly, swallowed by the trees. "What kind of fantasy world doesn't even have tutorial mobs?"



Hunger gnawed faintly at her stomach. Her arms felt heavy. She considered sitting down but quickly shook the thought away. She'd been walking for what felt like hours—still no signs of people, roads, or even smoke. Not even animal prints.



"Great. I'm the main character of 'Lost: Forest Edition.'" She exhaled sharply, tilting her head back to glare at the foreign stars. "I swear, if this is some kind of purgatory, I'm suing someone."



She was about to drop onto a mossy rock and give up for a bit when something red flickered in her peripheral vision.



Her steps slowed.



There—between the roots of an old oak—lay a shape.



Her breath hitched. "...Wait."



A boy.



He was sprawled on the ground, face half-hidden by dirt and blood. His red hair glowed faintly under the moonlight, sticky with dried blood. His jacket—dark crimson with torn sleeves—was soaked through. He looked young, maybe her age, maybe younger. Black pants, heavy boots, and beside him, an axe.



An axe like hers.



"Oh crap…" Subaru's eyes widened. "No way. He must be—he must be the teammate of this body's original owner! Or… or maybe another victim of this cosmic joke."



She didn't waste time thinking. She rushed toward him, kneeling beside his body, the skirt brushing against mud and leaves. "Hey, hey! You're bleeding!" She paused and groaned. "Ugh, of course you're bleeding, what kind of dumb talk is that…"



Her eyes darted over him—no obvious bandages, no signs of life except the faint rise and fall of his chest. "Uh… right, healing! Every fantasy world has healing spells, right?" She lifted her hand above him dramatically. "Heal!"



Nothing happened.



"Okay, okay, maybe it's about conviction or something." She frowned harder. "Heal!"



Still nothing.



"Damn it!" Her voice cracked. "What kind of cheap system is this?! I can't even heal my own—"



She stopped when she heard a faint sound escape his lips.



Her head snapped down. "Huh? What are you saying?" She leaned closer, tilting her ear toward his mouth. "Come again? I can't hear—"



Shink.



Something cold sliced through the air by her neck.



Her breath caught.



For a second, the world seemed to lose gravity. The forest twisted. Her stomach floated. She was—weightless?



Her eyes fluttered open.



She was standing.



Still standing. A few meters away from where she had just knelt. The boy still lay there, bleeding, unmoving.



"What… what the hell?" she whispered. Her fingers brushed her neck instinctively—no blood, no cut. Just smooth skin and a faint chill.



Was that… a vision? A hallucination? Her heart pounded in her chest.



"Okay… okay, not freaking out again." She took a shaky breath. "Maybe I'm just tired. Yeah. That's it. Sleep deprivation and trauma equals—hallucinations. Great. Totally normal."



She gripped the axe tighter and stepped forward again. The boy hadn't moved. The same dirt, the same smell of blood.



She knelt, cautious this time, voice trembling but determined. "Hey, hey! You're bleeding… yeah, I know, déjà vu. Ugh, this feels way too familiar."



Her voice faltered. "Do I have healing powers? Heal! Still nothing? Okay, cool, game hates me."



She frowned and leaned closer once more, trying to catch whatever mumble came from his lips.



But this time, something shifted.



The boy's fingers twitched. His body stirred.



Her eyes widened as he suddenly crouched up, barely standing, blood dripping from his chin. In his trembling hand was his axe—raised, ready to strike.



"What the—hey! What are you doing?!" Subaru yelped, jumping back instinctively. She leaped a full meter—holy crap, she could jump like that?! Her boots skidded against dirt as she stumbled to steady herself.



The boy's eyes locked onto her. They were cloudy, half-mad, but full of hate.



"…demon…" he rasped, voice shredded from blood and rage. "Must… kill you…"



Subaru froze, staring, mouth dry.



What? Demon? Her?



Her grip on the axe tightened.



Was this… her first quest?



The boy lunged.



The boy's axe came whistling through the air—too fast, too sharp, too real. Subaru jerked her body back, feet tripping over the roots beneath her, the heavy swing missing her by a hair's breadth. Her new limbs felt wrong, heavy, clumsy. She wasn't used to the weight of the axe at her side, or the strength—or lack of it—within this body. Every movement was a second too slow, every breath too quick.



"Wait—wait—hold on—!" she shouted, raising her hands uselessly.



But then came the flash.



The world tilted. Something cold, impossibly thin, kissed the side of her neck—and before she even processed it, her vision lurched. The forest spun, trees bending sideways in a swirl of light and shadow. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. Her vision dipped lower, lower… until she saw her own headless body stumble and collapse a few feet away, blood painting the snow beneath like crimson ink spilled from a broken bottle.



What the—?



Her mind screamed, but her voice had nowhere to go. There was no throat, no lungs—only a disembodied awareness fading, slipping. Her sight blurred into black mist.



That's my… body…? she thought numbly, watching her body's hand twitch once, twice, before it dissolved into a cloud of dark ether, scattering into the air like smoke pulled apart by the wind. The same black dust began creeping over her sight.



Her last thought before it swallowed her completely was—

Huh… I died? That's… bullshit.



And then—nothing.



When Subaru blinked again, she was standing. Her breath hitched. The trees were back. The air was crisp, cold. Her boots were half-sunk in the same patch of dirt she remembered standing on before.



And in front of her—



The boy.



Still lying on the ground. Still bleeding. Still half-conscious, his red jacket soaked through, his axe glinting beside him.



Subaru's breath came out in a shaky gasp. "What the hell…" She stumbled backward, clutching her chest. Her hands were trembling. She could feel her heartbeat again. "Did I… just… die?"



The forest gave no answer. Only the rustling wind, and the faint wet sound of the boy coughing up blood.



No, this wasn't right. This wasn't possible. There wasn't even time to think before she saw him push himself up again, weakly gripping his axe.



"Demons…" he croaked, blood running down his chin. His eyes burned with something raw and unreasoning. "You… must die."



Subaru froze, every part of her screaming to run—but her mouth moved faster than her legs.



"Hold on! Hold on! I wasn't even a demon a few hours ago! And—wait—don't tell me—you remember killing me?!"



He didn't answer. Didn't even hesitate. His stare was glassy, cold, like someone lost too deep in instinct to listen. The axe lifted.



"Oh come on—!"



She spun on her heel and bolted. Branches whipped past, leaves cracked underfoot. Her breaths came fast, sharp, ragged. The unfamiliar weight of her axe banged against her leg as she ran, almost tripping her. She swung it behind her wildly, not to hit him but to keep him away, flailing like someone swatting at a swarm of bees.



"Stay back! Stay the hell back! I swear I'll—uh—I'll do something dangerous!"



Her threats were pathetic, her footing worse. The forest blurred past—green, brown, black—then she heard it. A soft crunch behind her.



Too close.



She turned—and he was there.



Right in front of her.



The same dead eyes, the same expressionless glare. He raised the axe, his voice a low snarl.



"Your acting won't fool me."



She barely had time to scream before he finished,



"Die, faker."



The axe came down.



There was no pain, just a tearing flash. Her world split in two. She could see her own body coming apart, blood blooming like a grotesque flower across the white frost of the forest floor. Her mind went silent, the world went quiet, and her last thought—fleeting, absurd—was not again—



Darkness.



Then, a blink.



And she was back.



Standing.



Breathing.



The trees were still. The air was cold. The boy—still lying there.



Exactly the same.



Subaru's mouth fell open. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me…"



Her hands were shaking so violently she almost dropped the axe. The memory of being split in half—of watching her own blood soak the earth—was burned into her bones. And yet, here she was, whole. Alive. Again.



Her heart raced so loud she could hear it.



"What the fuck is happening to me…" she whispered.



The boy groaned faintly. That same sound. The same motion. The same way his hand reached for the axe.



No. No way.



This wasn't déjà vu anymore. This was a trap. A loop. A nightmare stuck on replay.



She took a step back, trembling, her mind spinning.



So when I die… I go back here?



The thought lodged itself in her brain, cold and terrifying. Her throat tightened.



The boy sat up again, slow, deliberate. Blood smeared his face as his dull eyes lifted toward her.



"Demons…"



Subaru's breath hitched.



"…you must die."



The exact same words. Same tone. Same moment.



She laughed—a short, hysterical sound. "Oh, come on! Again?!" She threw her hands up, shaking. "Look, if this is your thing, fine, but can't you at least explain first before chopping me into mincemeat?!"



No response. Just the dull glint of steel as he gripped the axe.



Her legs twitched with the urge to flee. But something else—something colder—settled inside her.



This wasn't just coincidence. Whatever was happening, she was stuck. Every time she died, she came back here. That meant—if she didn't figure out why, she'd just keep dying. Over and over.



She gritted her teeth. "Okay, Subaru… think. You're the protagonist now, right? Yeah, sure, of course you are. Classic isekai bullshit. So, what's the play? You can't fight him. You can't run far. And you sure as hell can't keep dying."



The boy started to rise.



"Shit—okay, no time for the smart plan!"



She turned and sprinted again, every step awkward and desperate, boots slamming against the dirt. Her lungs burned. Her body—this body—was weak, unfamiliar, but her will to survive was the same as ever.



She dodged between trees, ducked under branches, swung her axe behind her in panicked arcs.



"Stop chasing me, you psycho lumberjack!"



But the forest echoed with his footsteps, steady, relentless. He wasn't even running—just walking, yet somehow keeping pace.



Subaru's mind reeled.



How do you kill someone who already killed you twice?



Her legs faltered. Her vision blurred. Her breathing turned ragged.



She looked back—nothing. No sight of him.



Then a shadow moved.



He stepped out from the side of a tree, axe in hand, eyes hollow.



The moment stretched. She barely had time to curse.



"Wait, wait, WAIT—!"



The axe arced again.



And the world went black.



Then she blinked.



She was back.



Again.​

---

The wind whispered through the forest again, soft and cold. The smell of pine. The crunch of frost beneath her boots.



And the boy, lying on the ground. Bleeding. Red hair. Red jacket. The same damned scene.



Subaru didn't move at first. She just stood there, staring. Her heart pounded like a drum, but her mind felt… hollow. The silence pressed against her ears, thick and heavy.



Then it hit her all at once.



Her knees gave out. She dropped to the ground, axe clattering beside her.



"No…" she breathed. "No, no, no—this isn't real. It can't be real."



Her voice cracked, the sound trembling through the empty forest. She pressed her shaking hands to her face, nails digging into her skin. Her whole body trembled, cold sweat sliding down her neck.



"I died… I died… twice—" She looked up, eyes wide, unfocused. "And I'm back again? Why? How?! What did I even do?!"



Her words fell apart into broken sobs.



It wasn't just fear—it was disbelief. The kind of madness that gnawed at your sanity, slow and quiet, until you couldn't tell if you were awake anymore.



A cough. Wet. Familiar.



Subaru's head snapped up.



The boy. The same boy. Lifting his head, blood dripping down his chin. His breath was ragged, his eyes dull with fury and confusion.



"Demons…" he rasped, voice trembling. "You must die…"



Subaru stumbled backward, shaking her head, eyes brimming with tears. "No! No, don't—you don't understand! I'm not a demon! I'm not even— I didn't even want this!" Her voice broke into a desperate yell. "Do you even remember me?! You killed me! Twice! You split me in half, you cut off my head! How the hell do you not remember?!"



He said nothing.



He just reached for his axe again.



Her breath hitched, her heart plummeting into her stomach.



"Please…" she whispered, voice trembling. "Please don't do this again…"



He lunged.



Her legs moved before she could think, instincts screaming for her to run. She turned and fled, tears blurring her vision. The trees warped around her as she sprinted, lungs burning, body shaking.



The sound of footsteps—closer, heavier.



"Stop following me!" she screamed, swinging her axe wildly behind her. "I don't even know what's happening!"



The tears wouldn't stop. They streaked her cheeks, hot and stinging, mixing with the cold air that cut against her skin.



Every step hurt. Every sound made her flinch.



She stumbled over a root, crashing to the ground, dirt smearing across her palms. She gasped for breath, curling in on herself.



"This isn't fair…" she choked out. "Why me? I didn't ask for this… I just wanted to— I just wanted to understand where I was…"



The crunch of boots drew near.



She lifted her head, eyes wide with terror.



He stood there again. His silhouette framed against the dim light cutting through the trees. The axe gleamed dully in his hands.



"Your acting won't fool me," he said, voice low and distant, like he wasn't even there. "Die, faker."



Her lips quivered. "Please don't—"



The axe came down.



Her world split open.



Pain burst like fire through her chest. Her mouth opened in a scream, but no sound came out. The world dimmed. Her fingers twitched. The smell of blood filled her nose. Her sight cracked apart, fading into black.



Not again… please…



Darkness swallowed her.



She blinked.



Cold air. The same trees. The same ground. The same boy.



Everything the same.



Again.



"No…" she whimpered, voice breaking. "No, not again… please not again…"



Her body shook violently as she clutched her head, the tears spilling freely now.



"I can't— I can't keep doing this—"



Her thoughts tangled in panic and despair. Her heart felt too big for her chest, beating against her ribs like it wanted to break free.



The boy coughed again, and the sound tore through her like a knife.



She looked up, wide-eyed. He was moving again, repeating the same motion, the same sick rhythm as before.



"Demons…"



Subaru's mind screamed stop, but her body wouldn't move.



He reached for his axe.



"Demons must die."



"No!" she screamed, backing away on trembling legs. "I can't do this anymore!"



But he rose to his feet anyway, staggering forward.



Her breath came in ragged gasps. The world blurred through tears. She swung her axe again, weakly, wildly.



"Just—just stay away! Please!"



He advanced, slow, inevitable.



Her arms gave out. She fell back against a tree, chest heaving, tears running down her cheeks in hot rivers.



"I don't even know who I am anymore…" she whispered, voice breaking between sobs. "I didn't mean to take this body… I didn't even want to be here… I just—"



He was in front of her.



"Your acting won't fool me."



Her breath hitched. Her fingers tightened weakly around the axe. "Please…"



"Die, faker."



The blade flashed.



Cold. Pain. Blackness.



Then nothing.



When Subaru opened her eyes again, she didn't scream.



She just stood there. Still. Silent.



Her eyes were dull now, the tears dried but her expression hollow. She turned her head slowly toward the boy's prone figure, lying in the dirt again.



Her voice came out hoarse, cracked. "So this is it, huh…? My personal hell."



Her hand trembled as she reached for the axe, not even sure why. Maybe to fight. Maybe to end it faster. Maybe because she didn't know what else to do.



She laughed—a quiet, broken laugh that didn't sound human anymore. "How many times am I gonna die before I lose it completely, huh?"



The forest didn't answer.



But she already knew.



The boy stirred again.



And Subaru began to cry all over, soft and hopeless, because she knew exactly what would come next.
​

---

To Be Continued​

---

A/N: Hope you liked it. Please review! Also, you can read this ahead on my Patreon! Oh, and do join my Discord Server!​

​

 

[Daddycool101]

Poor Subaru

 

[Reines_simp]

I don't know what happened with my brain but when i reading this chapter and see subaru suffer in stark hand i immidiatly thought "Huh, so this fic will have love triangle with stark, subaru and fern" maybe i reading to much gender bender subaru fic

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

Poor Subaru

Click to shrink...

Poor Subaru, indeed.

I don't know what happened with my brain but when i reading this chapter and see subaru suffer in stark hand i immidiatly thought "Huh, so this fic will have love triangle with stark, subaru and fern" maybe i reading to much gender bender subaru fic

Click to shrink...

...huh. Who knows how wrong or right you are.

 

[samChan]

Does the demon body give any advantage?

 

[Daddycool101]

Does the demon body give any advantage?

Click to shrink...

It dies faster. Instant evaporation.

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

Does the demon body give any advantage?

Click to shrink...

It does, absolutely, though she must be able to harness it and Stark is not a normal person. He can one shot a dragon, after all.

It dies faster. Instant evaporation.

Click to shrink...

That's also true. Lol.

Any lethal attack and a demon fades away instantly.

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

Summary:
Stark kills.
Subaru dies.
Stark attacks.
Subaru counters.

Notes:
So this is the final death loop chapter.

Stark is not heartless, you see. Linie had already shown him the dark side of her kind, plus he was exposed to Frieren for some time so...

---

Please...Stop​

---

The night didn't change.

The stars stayed frozen above, watching like indifferent gods.

And every time Subaru opened her eyes, she found herself standing again, same dirt underfoot, same bloody boy lying ahead.



Her fingers tightened around the axe. Her lips quivered. She didn't want to speak—didn't want to move—but the silence pressed so hard against her chest it hurt.



Maybe… maybe words could work this time.



"Hey," she said softly, voice trembling. "You're hurt… I don't wanna fight. I'm not— I'm not a demon, okay? I'm just confused. I don't even know where I am."



He lifted his head, eyes barely open.



"Demons…" he whispered.



Subaru swallowed. "Please… no, listen, I'm not—"



He coughed blood, fingers clutching his weapon. "Must die."



Her heart sank. "No, no, no, wait—just listen!"



The axe swung.



And she died again.



Pain, then dark.



When she opened her eyes again, her throat was already sore from screaming. She didn't scream this time. She just stared. The same moon. The same forest.



She took one step forward, voice shaking. "Please… please just listen this time, okay? I don't want to fight. I don't even know you."



"Demons…"



Subaru's eyes watered. "Stop saying that. I'm not a demon! Look at me!"



He rose, trembling, bleeding, but still lifted that damned axe.



"Die…"



Her legs failed her. "Why? Why won't you—"



Steel met flesh.



Darkness again.



Third time.



She knelt by him instead. Didn't even hold the axe this time. Maybe he just needed kindness.



"Hey, hey," she said, voice hoarse. "I'm not your enemy, okay? I just wanna help."



He stirred, coughed again.



"Demons…"



She gritted her teeth. "No, not demons! Human! Or—whatever this is, I'm still me!"



The sound of metal.



Subaru tried to dodge but wasn't fast enough.



The world spun. Her vision went red, then black.



Fourth time.



She woke up sobbing, clawing the dirt. "I don't wanna do this anymore!"



She sat there until she heard his voice again.



"Demons…"



Subaru forced a smile. "Yeah, yeah, demons. Sure. Whatever. But you don't have to kill me. You could just… y'know, not?"



He stumbled to his feet. "Die…"



She lifted her arms weakly. "I give up, okay? I surrender—"



The axe fell.



Darkness again.



Fifth.



"Please stop," she begged, tears streaming down her face. "Please. I just want to go home. You don't even know me!"



"Demons…"



Her grip tightened. "You're not even listening, are you?"



He swung.



She screamed until she couldn't.



Sixth.



She tried shouting before he could even move.



"HEY, RED-HAIR! DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!"



He twitched, startled. For a moment, she thought—maybe this time—



Then: "Demons must die."



Her laughter cracked as she stumbled back. "Of course. Of course that's what you'd say."



She swung back out of reflex, their axes clashing—his strength overwhelming hers.



The impact threw her down. The second blow silenced her.



Seventh.



Subaru just sat cross-legged, watching him.



He stirred.



She didn't move.



"Demons…"



"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Go ahead. I'll be here."



He rose, limping, bloody, but still raised that stupid weapon.



She didn't flinch when it hit.



Eighth.



She woke with bloodshot eyes, laughter spilling from her lips before she could stop it. "Oh, this is rich! You're my personal tutorial, aren't you? My respawn boss!"



Her laugh turned manic.



He moved again.



"Demons…"



She snorted. "Say something new, damn it!"



He didn't.



He killed her again.



Ninth.



Her hands shook violently now. She crawled away before he could rise. Maybe if she hid—



The forest went quiet.



Her breath hitched.



And then he was behind her.



"You must die."



"No—!"



Pain tore her in two.



Tenth.



Her throat burned from crying. She slapped her cheeks hard, leaving red marks. "Okay, Subaru. Okay. Think. Think, idiot. You can figure this out. You've done worse. You can—"



"Demons…"



Her stomach twisted. "Oh god, not again."



She ran.



Didn't even look back.



He caught up.



He always caught up.



Eleventh.



Subaru screamed before he even spoke. "STOP SAYING THAT!"



Her voice echoed through the forest. "STOP CALLING ME THAT! I'M NOT A DEMON! I'M NOT!"



He didn't stop.



When he lifted the axe, she didn't resist this time.



"Fine," she whispered. "Go ahead. I'll just come back anyway."



She smiled through tears as the blade fell.



Twelfth.



She woke up humming. The tune cracked halfway through. "La-la-la… murder forest, round twelve… can't wait to die again…"



Her laughter was hollow.



The boy stirred.



"Demons…"



Her smile faltered. "Yeah, I know the script."



He swung.



She welcomed it.



Thirteenth.



Her hands were trembling uncontrollably now. Every breath felt sharp.



"Maybe I am a demon," she muttered to herself. "Maybe that's why this keeps happening. Maybe I deserve it."



She looked up. "Hey, Red. You ever think maybe you're the one who's wrong?"



He didn't answer.



He cut her throat open.



Fourteenth.



When Subaru came back, she just lay there. Didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just stared up at the stars.



When he stirred, she whispered, "I hate you."



He said, "Demons must die."



She smiled weakly. "Yeah, I figured."



He didn't hesitate.



Fifteenth.



Subaru laughed so hard she cried. "Okay, okay, fine, you win. Let's make it quick this time."



She waved at him like an old friend. "Come on, don't be shy. Same move, right? Overhead swing, maybe a decapitation?"



He lunged.



She didn't even try to dodge.



Sixteenth.



When she opened her eyes again, her smile was gone.



Her face was blank.



Her eyes dull.



She looked at the boy, still bleeding, still alive in that cursed loop.



Her voice was barely a whisper. "You're not real, are you?"



He lifted his head. "Demons…"



Subaru tilted her head slightly, expression numb. "Right."



When he raised his axe again, she didn't even watch. She just closed her eyes, let the sound of the blade coming closer mix with the sound of her heartbeat.



And when it struck, she didn't scream. She just sighed.



Darkness again.



And again.



And again.​

---

The wind was the same, cold and sharp. The smell of blood, bark, and damp soil clung to everything. Subaru had stopped counting how long she'd been stuck in this endless night. But after the eighteenth time of watching her own death fade into darkness, something in her cracked—then clicked.



She crouched low, clutching her axe tight. Her breath came out white and steady.



Alright… maybe crying and begging wouldn't do jack. Maybe reasoning was useless. Maybe this world only listened to one language: violence.



Her gaze flicked to the boy lying in the dirt again, the faint rasp of his breath, the glint of his bloodied axe. Same spot. Same everything. But this time, Subaru wasn't shaking.



Her hands—small, pale, deceptively delicate—gripped the weapon like it was made for her. She could feel power humming in her muscles, a strange energy rushing through her veins. Her balance was sharper. Her stance more grounded. Maybe this body was different… maybe this body could fight.



"Okay," she whispered to herself. "If dying doesn't help, maybe killing will."



The boy stirred, coughing blood. His eyes flicked up, hollow and cold.



"Demons…" he rasped.



Subaru didn't move.



"Must die."



He pushed himself to his feet, wobbly but still dangerous. His axe lifted.



Subaru raised hers. Their eyes met—hers trembling, his lifeless.



The clash came fast.



Metal against metal. Sparks burst between them. The impact rang through the forest, echoing between the trees. Subaru's hands vibrated, but she held her ground. The force of his swing would've shattered her bones before—but now, her new body absorbed it. Her grip was strong, her arms steady.



For the first time since this nightmare began, she didn't fall.



Her heart pounded.



Holy crap. She blocked it.



A grin crept across her face—half disbelief, half exhilaration. "Oh… oh hell yeah! You feel that?! I blocked your damn—"



She barely finished the sentence before he twisted his stance.



In one impossible motion, the boy spun the axe around, flipping the handle in his hand. His movement was too clean, too fast for his wounds. Subaru's eyes widened—



The next instant, her world exploded in agony.



Shhhk—!



The axe tore through her arm. Not a clean slice, but a brutal tear of flesh and bone. Her right arm fell before she even realised what happened. The axe in her hand dropped, clattering uselessly to the ground.



Her breath hitched—then came the pain.



Raw. Burning. All-consuming.



Her knees buckled, and she stared at the stump. Blood poured like a fountain, hot and thick, staining her dress, soaking into her stockings.



Her voice broke apart into a scream so shrill it didn't even sound human.



"AaaAAAHHH—!!!"



Her body convulsed. She stumbled backward, clutching at the wound, her other hand slipping in her own blood. Her mind couldn't process it. The world tilted. Her breath came in sharp, broken gasps.



"I—my arm—my—AAAHHHH! WHAT THE—STOP—!!!"



Her vision spun. The boy didn't hesitate. His eyes were blank, emotionless, like a puppet moving on instinct.



He raised his weapon again.



Subaru tried to crawl back, her voice cracking into hysterical shrieks. "NO! PLEASE! I CAN'T—STOP, STOP IT, I—!"



The blade flashed again.



Shhkk!



Her left arm hit the ground, rolling away from her body. Blood sprayed across the dirt in a sick arc. The pain was unbearable—blinding. She couldn't even scream anymore; her throat shredded itself raw.



Her mouth opened but no sound came. Only air. Only pain.



Her mind cracked. The agony wasn't quick or merciful this time—it was alive. Her nerves lit up, her brain refusing to shut down. Every pulse of her heartbeat was another explosion of suffering.



She could feel the warmth of her blood leaving her body, the world tilting sideways, fading at the edges. Her vision blurred with red and tears.



"P… please…" she whimpered. "It hurts… it hurts so much…"



The boy didn't answer. He lifted his axe one last time, his shadow falling over her trembling body.



Subaru looked up, shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her lips quivered. She didn't even beg this time—just stared at him in disbelief, as if trying to understand what he was.



Then the axe fell.



She didn't feel the final blow—only the moment her body split, and her mind finally disconnected from it.



There was no time to think, no words left to scream. Just darkness swallowing her whole again.



And when she opened her eyes…



She was standing once more.



Same forest. Same cold air. Same boy bleeding in the dirt.



Subaru stared at her hands—both whole again. She trembled violently, the phantom pain still burning through her. Her breath hitched as she pressed her palms against her arms, as if to confirm they were back.



She could still feel it—the tearing, the pain, the warmth of her blood. It lingered like a cruel echo.



Her voice cracked as she whispered, "No more… please, no more…"



But even as she said it, her gaze drifted toward the boy again. The faint rise and fall of his chest. His limp hand twitching toward the axe.



And somewhere deep in her chest, between the fear and the madness, something else began to burn.



Resolve—or maybe just vengeance.



She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her trembling hand. "Fine…" she muttered, voice shaking. "You want a demon? You'll get one."



Her grip tightened around the axe.



She stepped forward.​

---

By the forty-first time, Subaru didn't even flinch.



The sound of his boots crunching against the soil had once made her heart leap to her throat, had once filled her with a trembling kind of terror that set her body into fight or flight. But now—now her chest only felt hollow. Her fingers didn't even tighten around the axe anymore. They just trembled faintly, gripping air.



He stepped out of the shadows again, the same way he always did: his expression empty, eyes sharp, voice colder than iron. "Demons… must die."



There was no hesitation in his words. Never had been. Not once.



Subaru swallowed hard. Her throat was dry, rough like sandpaper, every breath scratching against her lungs. She wanted to speak, but her voice came out cracked. "I—I'm not even resisting anymore, you bastard… can't you see that?!"



He didn't answer. He never did. His face, his tone, his steps—everything about him followed the same script. He raised the axe.



Subaru's eyes welled up. Her lips trembled. "Please… I don't even know why this is happening. I don't even know where I am… I'm not a demon, I'm not—"



The blade came down, fast and merciless.



For the forty-first time, Subaru felt the world go white and soundless. No pain, not really—just a sudden emptiness, a cold rush of air, the faint feeling of falling apart before everything turned black.



Then she blinked.



The stars above her blinked back.



The boy lay there again, bloodied, gasping.



Her body shook. Her breath caught somewhere deep in her chest, and tears started running down her face before she could even stop them. "Please," she whispered to no one. "Please… just let it end."



When he rose again, she didn't even move. Didn't try to talk. Didn't try to run.



"Demons must die."



The same words. The same swing.



The forty-second reset ended in the same red flash.



By the forty-third, Subaru could barely bring herself to speak anymore. Her throat ached from screaming, from begging, from explaining. She'd tried every version of her story she could think of—told him she was human, that she was lost, that she'd just woken up here, that she'd never hurt anyone. She even tried lying, pretending she was a cursed villager or a summoned spirit, but it didn't matter. His axe didn't care.



She tried to talk calmly. Tried to cry. Tried to fight. Tried to surrender. Nothing changed.



Every time she woke up, her legs would shake when she stood. Sometimes she'd vomit, sometimes she'd laugh until her stomach cramped. Once, she sat for an hour, staring at her trembling hands, before he found her again.



Now… now she just stood there.



She didn't even bother picking up the axe lying beside her.



When she saw him approach again, her lips moved automatically. The same words left her mouth in a dead tone. "Demons must die, right? Go ahead, then. I get it. That's all you can say."



He looked at her, eyes as cold as ever, and swung.



Her head tilted back at the last second, eyes locked on the moon above—the same moon, always the same shape, same clouds drifting past it. A cruel, repetitive sky.



"I don't… I don't want this anymore," she whispered.



The forty-third ended.



And the forty-fourth began.



This time, Subaru didn't even cry. She didn't run. Didn't scream. She just stood there, staring up at the stars, her chest hollowed out, eyes lifeless.



When she blinked, the boy was there again, and her heart didn't even jump.



She couldn't remember how long she'd been doing this. Couldn't tell if she was actually breathing anymore. Couldn't tell if she was still Subaru—Subaru Natsuki, the idiot who once bought convenience store snacks and complained about games being pay-to-win. That felt like a dream now.



Now there was only this: the forest, the boy, the axe, the same words, the same pain.



"Demons must die."



"Yeah," Subaru whispered, almost smiling through the tears that never fully stopped. "Guess so."



And with that, she closed her eyes.



The sound of the axe splitting air came, and she welcomed it.



The forty-fourth, forty-fifth, forty-sixth… they blurred together after that.



Each reset felt shorter, duller, emptier.



Once, she tried running again, half-heartedly, out of instinct—but tripped over her own foot, falling flat into the mud. She stayed there, sobbing quietly, waiting for him to find her. When the blow came, she didn't even raise her head.



Another time, she thought of her family—her mom humming while cooking, her dad joking about stupid things, the smell of the tatami in her room. The memories hit her like blades, cutting through the fog in her brain, and she cried until her chest hurt. When he came that time, she whispered through the tears, "I just want to go home."



He didn't pause.



The axe came down.



By the forty-ninth, her mind had started slipping. Sometimes she'd laugh at nothing, or whisper random words just to hear her own voice. Sometimes she'd talk to the trees. Sometimes she'd apologize to them.



And every single time—reset.



The fiftieth time she stood there, she didn't even notice the tears falling anymore.



The forest around her was quiet. The stars were exactly where they always were. The same hum of the wind. The same heartbeat in her ears.



"Demons must die."



She nodded faintly, voice hoarse, almost broken. "Then do it."



He did.



And as darkness took her again, she finally wondered if maybe—maybe she'd never stop seeing this place.



Maybe she'd already gone insane.



Maybe she already had.​

---

To Be Continued​

---

Next chapter will focus on Subaru being extreme and I want your opinions— logically, what should be her mental state?

Is Stark cooked?

Is Subaru cooked?

Hope you liked it. Please review! Also, you can read this ahead on my Patreon! Oh, and do join my Discord Server!

 

[Gindjurra]

And Subaru began to cry all over, soft and hopeless, because she knew exactly what would come next.

Click to shrink...

Okay," she whispered to herself. "If dying doesn't help, maybe killing will."

Click to shrink...

Resolve—or maybe just vengeance.

Click to shrink...

Fine…" she muttered, voice shaking. "You want a demon? You'll get one."

Click to shrink...

If all demons start out this way, it would explain why they're so universally homicidally hostile - they've been trained to know, not just believe, that any mercy or peaceful approaches just get them murdered or worse.

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

If all demons start out this way, it would explain why they're so universally homicidally hostile - they've been trained to know, not just believe, that any mercy or peaceful approaches just get them murdered or worse.

Click to shrink...

In the world of Frieren, demons are inherently "evil". Even when they are showen compassion, empathy and love, they will still betray. There has never been a demon in canon who was exposed to love and didn't harm humans.

I won't spoil anything,

Spoiler: But in the manga, there was a demon

but there was a demon who lived with humans for decades but still harmed them all, because he wanted to understand humans better and in that path, he harmed them all. And in S1, we were shown a demon girl was pardoned by Himmel and a village chief. The girl lived for a few days with them, "happily", before taking another life.

Demons used to be monsters who could only imitate human voices to lure people. But as people got used to their tricks, demons began to change and took the shape of humans. The whole existence of demons resolve around tricking humans.

In short, canonically, demons ARE inherently born that way.

 

[Vinder]

Next chapter will focus on Subaru being extreme and I want your opinions— logically, what should be her mental state?

Click to shrink...

After so many deaths in a different body, Subaru would be dissociating heavily. He would have no qualms about spending the life of this demon body as many times as necessary, whether to kill Stark or to escape and plot his revenge later, because he feels a visceral hatred toward him.

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

because he feels a visceral hatred toward him.

Click to shrink...

Very true. That's what should logically happen.

 

[samChan]

Next chapter will focus on Subaru being extreme and I want your opinions— logically, what should be her mental state?

Click to shrink...

After over fifty death, she probably doesn't register the same pain anymore and need a new one to simulated her mind. So dull and void like all other demons?

At this point, just have her keep trying to hurt stark with each fight actually hurting him a little more then last time. Cause now subaru have something he never have in cannon.

 

[Anti-No]

This whole thing kind of looks like the plot of some demon lord, honestly. See if a human soul in a demons body can manage to get accepted, somehow. In-world, it makes sense.
The point? Well...

• if the souled demon kills a lot of humans? Win.
  
  
• If the souled demon manages to get accepted? Absolutely massive win for demons everywhere more or less forever, because that makes it much easier for every other demon to trick humans. The damage done by managing to get a demon accepted by humanity is very very hard to overstate on that world. And any help that souled demon manages to do by fighting off other demons, or help humanity in other ways? Utterly irrelevant in comparison, as long as it increases the souled demons renown and spreads the legend of 'the okay demon'.
  
  
• If the souled demon just ends up getting tortured until mindbreak, eh, it's fun torturing humans, so that's okay too.

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

This whole thing kind of looks like the plot of some demon lord, honestly. See if a human soul in a demons body can manage to get accepted, somehow. In-world, it makes sense.
The point? Well...

• if the souled demon kills a lot of humans? Win.
  
  
• If the souled demon manages to get accepted? Absolutely massive win for demons everywhere more or less forever, because that makes it much easier for every other demon to trick humans. The damage done by managing to get a demon accepted by humanity is very very hard to overstate on that world. And any help that souled demon manages to do by fighting off other demons, or help humanity in other ways? Utterly irrelevant in comparison, as long as it increases the souled demons renown and spreads the legend of 'the okay demon'.
  
  
• If the souled demon just ends up getting tortured until mindbreak, eh, it's fun torturing humans, so that's okay too.

Click to shrink...

Those are some really good points. Though, it is highly unlikely in Frieren setting for a demon to be accepted, no matter what.

After over fifty death, she probably doesn't register the same pain anymore and need a new one to simulated her mind. So dull and void like all other demons?

At this point, just have her keep trying to hurt stark with each fight actually hurting him a little more then last time. Cause now subaru have something he never have in cannon.

Click to shrink...

Dying over and over again with none of your efforts being fruitful does make one crazy and lose control. They become reckless, numb to pain and perhaps even daring to use loops.

Subaru in this story won't be afraid of death

Subaru in this story will be afraid of loops.

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

This chapter was supposed to end when we see the "sniper". But then I realised nah, since I will get busy soon, I should write as much as possible.

Thus I wrote the "master sniper" scene.

You guys were looking forward to Subaru standing up, so I wrote more the final scene...

...Erfassen

---

Erafassen​

---

The loops dissolved into something of a drunkard's vision.



No forest.

No cold air.

No boy with the red jacket.



Just the thud of steel entering her, the snap of bone, the burst of agony, over and over: each death blurring into the next until even pain lost shape, became only colorless noise.



Subaru drifted inside it.



A void.

A numb sea.

Her mind floating like something cracked open and leaking out.



She didn't even remember starting to scream. At some point the screams weren't hers anymore… just a reflex squeezed out of a throat she no longer recognized as hers, or his, or anyone's. They belonged to the body dying, not the soul trapped inside it.



The axe cleaved her.

Reset.

Her head flew.

Reset.

Her spine snapped like a twig.

Reset.

Her torso hit the ground first, legs arriving a moment after.

Reset.



The "forest" became a flickering slideshow she barely registered.

Sometimes she saw trees.

Sometimes the boy's silhouette.

Sometimes only the flash of movement, and then darkness again.



Her thoughts were mud. Slow. Sluggish.

She couldn't even muster fear anymore. Just a tired, hollow resignation that sat where emotions used to be.



Her lips trembled each time she returned, but sound rarely came out.

Not pleas.

Not arguments.

Not curses.



Just small, broken exhales.



Like a dying animal.



At some point: maybe death thirty? Forty? A hundred?



…she wasn't sure, her brain began detaching from the events entirely.



Oh. He's swinging again.

Guess that's my stomach this time.

Warm. That's warm.

I wonder how long this one will last.



Steel tore through her ribs.

Reset.



Her body toppled backward.

Reset.



Her head rolled across wet leaves.

Reset.



Subaru wasn't even watching anymore.



She was enduring, the way someone endures a fever dream: by drifting in and out, eyes half-open, mind half-present, consciousness thinning like mist.



The boy kept killing.

And she kept dying.

And the world kept snapping back like a snapped rubber band.



Time had stopped existing.

She existed only as a cycle of start → suffer → end → start.



Somewhere inside that haze—

a memory bobbed to the surface.



Her mother's laugh.

Her father's warm, tired smile as he handed her dinner after work.

The weight of a mug of hot chocolate in both hands on a winter night.

Her room. Her posters.

Her dumb old computer that overheated when she opened too many tabs.



Things that used to annoy her.

Things she used to take for granted.

Things she wished for the first time in a long time had never, ever changed.



Her chest tightened: not from any wound, but from something far crueler.



Why did I ever… ever wish for an isekai?



She remembered being sprawled across her bed, whining to herself like an idiot:



"Man, I wish I could go to some cool fantasy world instead of this boring life…"



If she could punch that version of herself, she would.

Again and again.



Another flash.

Another death.

Another reset.



Her throat worked, and finally words stumbled out… quiet, hoarse, drenched in despair:



"…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry… mom… dad…"



The world snapped.



She was back again.



The boy lay bleeding.

The axe lay by his side.

The trees rustled as if nothing had happened at all.



Subaru didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Didn't even flinch as his head began to rise in that same agonizingly familiar motion.



She just stood there, trembling: not with fear, but with the exhaustion of someone who had been broken down so many times she no longer remembered the shape of hope.



"…please…" her voice cracked into a whisper meant for no one. "I want this to end… please… someone… anyone… make this stop…"



But the forest didn't answer.



Only the boy did.



"Demons… must die."



He rose.



And the axe gleamed as it came down again.​

~/~​

The next reset hit her like a slap of cold water, but this time, something in her mind pulled her somewhere else before terror could root itself again.



Memories, real ones: cracked through the fog.



Her dad sitting next to her on the couch, controller in hand, muttering curses under his breath whenever he lost a match.

Her mom leaning into the doorway, arms crossed, pretending she wasn't smiling at the sight of the two of them yelling at pixelated characters on the screen.

Warm lights.

Warm food.

Warm voices.



Then the later nights… when she lay facedown on her pillow after another stupid day of failing at socializing or being a functional human being, flipping open her phone to scroll through clips of cool fantasy scenes—

Heroes soaring through the sky.

Wizards blasting upward with trails of magic.

Characters with wings or flight spells zipping across clouds like it was nothing.



And she'd always thought:



Man, imagine if I could do that…



Her breath caught.



Wait.



Hold up.



Hold up.



Could it be…

Can it be…

Why—why the hell didn't I think of that earlier?!



Her eyes snapped toward the boy as he began to rise again, bloodied and trembling with hatred.



"Demons…" he rasped.



Subaru's heart hammered.

She forced her breath steady, palms sweating around the axe handle.



Come on.

Come on.

Just do something.



Her legs bent, tension rippling through them.

She grit her teeth, eyes locked on the boy.



"…must…" he croaked as he dragged himself upright, fingers curling around the axe.



Subaru snarled at herself, "Work, damn it!"



She pushed off the ground—

legs exploding with power she had never felt before.



"…die—?!"



He never finished the word.



Because in that last heartbeat—

Subaru shot upward.



Like a fired arrow.

Like a rocket.

Like gravity itself had given up on holding her.



The trees blurred.

The ground vanished.

Wind punched her face so hard her eyes watered instantly.



"AAAAAAAAAA—HOLY—SHIT—WHAT—THE—HELL—IS—THIS—"



She screamed, half adrenaline, half pure, unfiltered panic as she blasted into the sky at a speed that made her stomach fling itself into her throat.



She spun, flailed, cursed at everything—

and then realized with a surge of horror:



She couldn't control it.



Shit—



The air screamed against her skin, every inch of her body heating up as she tore through the sky like a meteor. Her eyes stung. Her dress whipped violently around her legs. She swore she could smell the faint, scary scent of something burning: probably her.



She wasn't built for this speed.

Hell, humans weren't built for this speed.

And she had no clue if demons were, either.



Think!

THINK!



Her mind scrambled through every bit of fiction she'd ever consumed: comics, anime, cartoons, memes—



How do they do it?!

How do they not just instantly catch fire and explode?!

What's the trick, damn it?!



She squeezed her eyes shut as the air grew hotter and hotter.

She couldn't keep going, not like this.

She needed something—anything to stabilize herself before she combusted like a cheap knockoff space shuttle.



Omni-Man.

Goku.

Superman.

Shazam.

Any one of those overpowered jerks, what would they do?!



They just… stop.

They stop mid-air like it's normal.



So… could she?



She clenched every muscle she had in pure terror and screamed at her body to stop—



And suddenly—



She wasn't moving anymore.



Just floating.

Suspended in the middle of the night sky like someone had hit her pause button.



"…Huh?"



She opened one eye.



She wasn't falling.

She wasn't spinning.

And most importantly, she wasn't on fire.



"…It works?" she whispered, voice small.



Her heart thudded once—



Then erupted.



"I… I can fly!"



The realization hit her so hard she almost dropped the axe still clenched in her hand. She stared at it, dumbfounded. She'd been holding it the entire time. She didn't even need it. She had no skills, no magic words, no idea what she was doing—



And still flew anyway.



The hysteric laughter tore out of her without warning—half joy, half trauma, half exhaustion, and definitely not only halves. She shook with it, shoulders trembling, breath hitching and breaking into shocked giggles.



She could get away.

She could actually, finally, GET AWAY.



"Nope—NOPE—no way I'm facing that psycho again," she wheezed between manic laughs. "You can keep your murder boy questline, thanks—I'm OUT!"



She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, breath still shaking.



Okay.

Direction.

How did the heroes steer again?



She exhaled.

Fine.

Fine, she'd just imagine something pulling her.

That's how they did it in comics, right?

Probably?



She focused on the opposite direction of the blood-soaked murder boy.

She pictured a hook grabbing her chest, yanking her forward.



Her body tilted—

And then—



She shot forward, slicing through clouds like a dart.



"Yesssss!"​

~/~​

Fern's breath still came quick from the battle, white fog curling in the cold air as Lüngar's body dissolved into nothing. His last words still clung to her mind… accusing,, disbelieving, right before the light left his eyes. Even a high demon capable of manipulating blood like threads snapped beneath true mana concealment.



She wiped her brow with the back of her sleeve.



Hopefully… Stark-sama was safe.

Hopefully he was winning.

He had to be.



She took one step toward the direction he had gone—



—and stopped.



Her fingers twitched around her staff as a pulse hit her senses. A mana light in the air. Soft. Wrong. Demonic.



"…A demon's mana," she murmured, her skin prickling.



She turned her head sharply toward the sky.



A small dot, drifting. No: moving. Cutting through the air in an uneven, wobbling line before adjusting itself. Definitely a person.



As it came closer, the outline became clearer: a small figure, feminine silhouette, strange dress fluttering, something clutched in their hands. Flying. Actively flying.



Her eyes widened a fraction.



That was—



"…Linie?" she whispered.



She blinked once. Twice. Her heartbeat kicked up. Linie wasn't supposed to be anywhere near here… she had been fighting with Stark-sama. So why was she in the sky? Flying?



Her throat went dry..



"Stark-sama…" Fern breathed, gripping her staff with both hands. "Please be alright…"



The demon girl soared closer, closing the distance with imbalanced speed. Fern's stance hardened. It didn't matter. Whatever reason, whatever explanation… she sensed odd mana. Thick. Wrong. Tainted.



Her fingers curled around the polished wood.

Her boots grounded into the soil.

Her breath steadied.



"…I'm sorry," she whispered, voice small but firm. "Stark-sama…"



Her staff rose.



Light gathered.



Her mana pulsed outward, strong, refined, merciless.



Regardless of who it was, she had just killed a high-ranking demon minutes ago.



She would not hesitate again.



"Zoltaraak."



A thin second passed.



Then a blinding blue beam lanced upward, swallowing the approaching demon girl whole.



A scream tore across the sky… raw, cracking, heavy enough to make the air shiver…



And then she evaporated into dust.​

~/~​

She screamed back into existence, lungs full of air she hadn't meant to inhale, stumbling on her feet as the forest stitched itself together around her like a cruel, familiar joke.



Same trees.

Same moon.

Same damp earth.

Same—



"…you've gotta be kidding me," she whispered.



Because right in front of her, dragging himself upright with that same shaky hatred, was the red-haired boy.



Again.



She had escaped.

She was flying away.

She had won this time.

She had—



A pain crawled up her nerves. Burning. Searing. The memory of that light beam shredding her body apart.



She clutched her chest.

No.

No way.



"Did… did he have accomplices?" she whispered, turning toward the sky she had just been in: before reality slammed back to her with a flat, merciless tone:



"Demons…"



The boy stood fully now, axe in hand, eyes hollow.



She didn't wait.

Didn't argue.

Didn't even breathe.



Not dealing with this moron again.



She clenched her axe, bent her legs—

and rocketed upward.



The wind swallowed her.

The trees shrank.

The ground blurred until the redhead was just a speck.



Up here—

Up here he couldn't reach her.

Up here she was—



"Face me here, demon!"



She froze mid-air.



That— that wasn't his usual script.



"W-what—?!" Subaru sputtered. "You can actually say more words?! You're not a broken NPC?!"



He stood below in the clearing, head tilted back, eyes locked on her, voice echoing sharp through the night. But she wasn't about to question dialogue trees.



She needed to escape.

She needed to leave.

She needed to—



A cold sensation traced across her shoulder.



Not pain.

Not heat.



Just cold.



She blinked.



Turned her head slightly.



Her brain lagged three full seconds before it processed what she was seeing—



Her right arm

was gone.



Completely.

From the shoulder.



"Eh…?" Subaru whispered.



Shock wrapped around her like ice.



She looked down.



The redhead stood below—

calm, steady—

holding a dagger dripping with her blood.



A dagger.



Thrown.



Up.



Over a hundred meters.



"How…?" Subaru croaked, voice cracking.



He didn't answer.



He threw the second one.



It cut through the air with a whisper, then buried itself deep into her abdomen, punching through flesh she barely recognized as her own.



Her breath hitched.

The sky tilted.

Her vision flickered.



She wanted to fly—

to run—

to do anything—



But dying had become an old friend.

A patient one.

One that always waited for her at the end.



And in the strange, dizzy softness of pain, she felt something almost warm rise inside her—

a tired, broken amusement.



Superman can fly. So can Homelander.



She knows which one she needs to be.



She gave him a weak, crooked grin.



"…next time…"



The last dagger flew.



Fast.

Precise.

Final.



"I'll fucking kill you all,"



It pierced her eye—

and her skull shattered like cracked glass—

and everything went black.​

~/~​

Subaru snapped into existence with a gasp: no confusion, no hesitation this time. The moment her feet touched the ground, she was already moving.



Her body felt electrified, instincts firing faster than her thoughts could form words.



She didn't waste even a heartbeat.



Her hand whipped forward, launching the axe straight at the boy's head just as he began rising from the dirt. The sound it made as it cut the air was sharp enough to make her flinch, and she didn't even wait to see if it hit.



She was already gone.



A burst of wind exploded beneath her as she shot into the air, blasting away in the opposite direction of where that nightmare beam had hit her last time. The memory of pain... of being erased in an instant: shoved her into a frantic, soaring sprint through the sky.



Branches blurred beneath her like streaks of shadow.

Leaves spun in spirals from the force of her takeoff.

Her heart hammered so hard it felt like it was trying to escape her ribcage.



Good.

Distance.

Distance was everything.



"No more resets, no more resets, no more—"



A sound cut through the night.



Thump.



She froze mid-flight and looked back.



He was following her.



Not on the ground.



Not struggling.



He was running... No, tearing through the forest, leaping from trunk to trunk with bone-snapping force, using branches like springboards. Every time his boots touched bark, it exploded under him.



And he was getting closer.



"What?!" Subaru shrieked, voice cracking. "No—no—NO—stop following me! You're supposed to stay down there! On the ground! Like a normal homicidal maniac!"



She tried to push herself faster, clenching her muscles and reaching for the same burst she used earlier when she rocketed into the sky.



Nothing.



She tried again.



Still nothing.



Her speed stayed the same: a brisk flying sprint, but nowhere near enough to outrun whatever monster of a boy was on her tail.



"Why am I capped now?! What kind of stamina system is this?! I didn't sign up for a flight cooldown!"



The wind screeched around her ears as she forced herself to stay steady, scanning in all directions. The forest stretched into a blur of dark green and silver moonlight.



Then her stomach dropped.



A prickle crawled up her spine.



Something was coming.



She jerked hard to the left and a dagger sliced past her cheek, the wind sting sharp against her skin.



"HEY—DON'T THROW THOSE AT ME—!"



She didn't even finish the sentence before the second one whistled toward her face. She twisted her body midair, her back bending almost in half as the blade missed her by centimeters.



Another dagger.



She saw the gleam too late.



"Sh—!"



It pierced her shoulder clean through.



Her breath caught in her throat as a hot bloom of pain spread down her arm, warm blood misting behind her in tiny droplets that sparkled in the moonlight.



But she didn't stop.



She didn't slow.



She didn't dare.



She forced her wings, uh, her legs— her whatever-this-body-used-to-fly to keep pushing, to keep driving forward, no matter how badly her nerves screamed.



"Not… dying… AGAIN!" she yelled, voice cracking.



She heard him shout something behind her, but she didn't look back. She didn't care. She couldn't afford to care.



Because suddenly—



The forest ended.



A massive lake spread out in front of her, black and glossy under the moon. She wobbled mid-air, nearly losing altitude, but managed to pull herself upward just enough to skim over the water's surface.



Ripples exploded beneath her as she passed, the cold spray hitting her legs.



She glanced back—



And nearly cried from relief.



The boy had stopped at the lake's edge, one foot sinking slightly into the mud as he glared up at her. His eyes were sharp, murderous—but he didn't leap. Didn't chase. Didn't throw another dagger.



He just… stared.



And stayed put.



Subaru almost screamed from joy.



"Yes—YES! Hah! In your FACE, reset-inator! I made it! I'm OUT! YOU CAN'T SWIM?! HA—HA—!"



She laughed in breathless, delirious glee, clutching her bleeding shoulder as she soared farther over the lake.



She had escaped the boy.



And that awful beam of death.



Finally, finally, she had a real chance to—



Subaru cleared the lake, panting in ragged bursts of relief, thrusters, or whatever new instincts kept her in the air, wobbling with exhaustion. Her shoulder throbbed like molten metal was buried under her skin, each beat of her heart pumping another sick pulse of pain down her arm.



But she was alive.



Alive and free—



Until the trees gave way to something impossible.



She drifted lower without meaning to, blinking rapidly.



An open field stretched beneath her. Vast. Wide. And filled. Not with crops. Not with grass.



But with soldiers.



At least… bodies shaped like soldiers.



Rows. Columns. Ranks stretching far into the night.



All wearing armor. All holding weapons.



All without heads.



"Um… what…" Subaru whispered, voice cracking like dry wood. "Why… why is this my life…"



They didn't move, didn't sway, didn't even breathe. Just stood there like abandoned dolls waiting for someone to pull their strings.



And in front of them—



Something moved.



A figure with long, magenta hair. Elegant armor clinging to her form. And… horns. Sharp, curved, a pale shade that caught the moonlight.



"Horns… she's got horns…" Subaru muttered, her voice rising in a shrill note of hope she immediately hated herself for. "A demon… like me? Does that make her… an ally…?"



Then she slapped her forehead, well, the side that still had an arm attached.



"No. Nope. Stop. You thought that with red-axe-murder-boy and he killed you a hundred times like it was his hobby. No trusting anyone. No cute horn solidarity. Just fly, idiot. Fly."



She started to turn—



Then she saw her.



Across the battlefield, standing alone against the army of headless horrors, was another figure.



Tall. Slim. Cloaked in pale cloth.



Silver hair dripping like moonlight down her back.



A real elf.



A real, actual, fantasy elf.



Holding a staff as if it weighed nothing, her mana faint.



Subaru nearly forgot how to breathe.



"Holy crap… she's gorgeous…" she whispered, mesmerized despite every instinct screaming danger. "A real elf… with a staff… and magic… whoa—"



The elf moved her hand.



Just a small shift of her fingers.



But the entire row of headless soldiers reacted, stumbling as though a force slammed into them.



She was fighting an army alone.



With magic.



Subaru hovered, stunned into silence—



Until the elf stopped.



Her body didn't turn.



Her head didn't tilt.



Just her eyes.



Cold, pale green eyes lifted upward…



And locked directly onto Subaru.



Even from this height.

Even through the distance of the field.

Even with a battlefield between them.



Those eyes hit Subaru like an ice bath poured straight through her soul.



Her stomach dropped.



Her throat clicked.



She felt her insides twist—



And—



"Oh no—no no no no—" Subaru squeaked.



She totally, absolutely, 100 percent just shit herself.



She didn't think.

She didn't breathe.

She didn't blink.



She just spun and flew—

faster than she ever had—

bursting away from the battlefield like a terrified comet.



She didn't care where she went.

She didn't care who she met.

She didn't care what direction was safe.



She just wanted away from those eyes.



Away—



A hum rose in the air.



Her skin prickled.



Oh.

Oh no.



Not again.



A familiar pressure locked around her chest.

A glow cut through the darkness.



She barely had time to whisper "please no—"



Before a massive light beam erupted from below, swallowing her whole.



Heat.



Pain.



The world turning white—



Then black—



Then nothing.



Her body disintegrated into dust…



Again.​

~/~​

Subaru's eyes snapped open: no gasp, no scream this time.

Just a steady, trembling breath leaking past her lips as her vision settled on the forest floor around her… and the boy already rising to his feet in front of her.

"Demons…" he muttered, the same way he always did. That same cold tone, that same grim resolve carved into his expression.

The word no longer rattled her.

After over a hundred loops of being torn apart by him: cut down, crushed, stabbed, burned: her heart had long since numbed into a strange, suspended calm.

There was no fear left to spark. Only a distant haze, a shell-shocked stillness.

She didn't even flinch when he lifted the axe.

"…must die."

His voice finally ended the phrase, but Subaru wasn't listening.

Not really.

Her gaze drifted past him, her thoughts sinking deeper into the calm that only endless death could forge. The first few times she had panicked like a rabbit. She couldn't even stand. She couldn't even think. She died with her back turned, with tears in her eyes, with her voice cracking in disbelief—

But somewhere around the 40th death, she stopped crying.

Around the 50th, she stopped screaming.

Around the hundredth… she learned to fly.

His axe swept toward her face with a brutal arc, the same wild yet practiced swing she had memorized through countless loops.

Subaru simply stepped aside, smooth, unhurried, as if moving through water. She didn't even consciously register it: the dodge flowed out of her body automatically, carved into her like a reflex.

He growled and swung again.

Subaru crouched, slid under the blade as if gliding on her knees, then leapt backward with a mild hop, still mostly lost in thought.

Her eyes were a little empty, her breathing strangely soft.

After all, she knew how this went.

She had dodged.

She had flown away.

And then one of his accomplices: whoever they were had vaporized her with a beam of light.

She stared distantly at the boy now circling her, axe at the ready. There was a time when this moment would have knotted dread in her stomach.

Not anymore.

Another slash.

Subaru bent sideways at the waist. The blade whistled past, close enough to stir her hair.

She barely noticed.

Her mind was replaying the deaths after that, the hundreds of attempts it took to get past him.

The dozens of angles she tried to fly.

The number of times she had been skewered mid-air by those silver daggers he could throw like a monster.

And when she finally escaped him…

…she was killed by that damned elf.

A shudder ran through her at the memory of that cold green stare freezing her in place.

That single beam of magic swallowing her whole.

The way her body disintegrated before she could even scream.

Not fear. Not even anger.

Just that cold, familiar sense of inevitability. Of déjà vu.

"Die, Faker!"

The shout snapped her back, just a little.

Subaru blinked, realizing she had already drifted yards away from him during her half-conscious dodging.

She was still alive.

And he hadn't touched her.

"…how?" she whispered under her breath, barely hearing her own voice.

The boy rushed her again. His movements were sharp, practiced, lethal.

She knew them intimately: knew exactly how he stepped, how he twisted his hips, how he turned his wrist in a killing arc.

But this time… something in her shifted.

Her body moved first.

She leaned back from the first swing. Slid left from the second.

Her boots dug into the dirt as she pivoted, letting his axe carve the air a hair's width from her throat.

Huh.

He used curved paths, she remembered that. Arcing chops, crescents through the air, momentum-based swings. But this time, instead of panicking or calculating—

She reacted.

Her muscles answered instinctively, like they had stolen the rhythm.

He came in with another swing. Subaru snapped her own axe up mid-motion, catching the side of his blade with the haft.

The impact vibrated through her arms, raw and solid, but she held her ground.

Then without thinking, without planning, she threw her axe upward.

The boy's eyes widened.

Subaru jumped.

Her feet found the flat of the tumbling axe mid-air; perfect balance, upside down for an instant.

Then she pushed off it like a springboard and swung her legs down.

Her heel crashed into his face.

He flew backward, skidding through leaves and dirt.

Subaru landed lightly, blinking, her heartbeat finally spiking.

This is…

This is…

"This is Sasuke's swordplay?!" she hissed out, disbelieving, breathless, staring at her own hands as if they belonged to someone else.

But how?!

The boy groaned, staggering to his feet again, wiping blood from his lip. "Those moves… what are they—"

She didn't hear the rest.

There was a tug inside her... deep, electric, like something hooking into her spine.

A word bubbled up in a whisper, not from memory but from instinct.

Erfassen.

Her fingers twitched.

Her muscles coiled...

Information flooded her brain.

This feeling....

This sensation when you get everything you had expectedfor an exam...

When you feel the ultimate joy of winning...

She looked at the redheaded boy, she could see silhouettes in motion around him...

Moving in 47 ways, 12 patterns...

How to kill an axe-weilding warrior in 12 styles...

Is this…

…is it…

Subaru's lips curled into a wild, hysterical grin as the realization hit her like lightning.

"Copy moves…" she whispered, almost reverent. "Convert into mana-based motions…"

Her pupils dilated, a feverish tremble running up her arms.

"Erfassen… Is this my power?"

The boy braced himself, gripping his axe with both hands. "I won't let you win."

Subaru vanished.

A blur, no, a ripple of motion and she reappeared right in front of him, her axe raised high, a crazed smile carving across her bloody face.

Her frills beat once behind her, kicking up dirt and wind.

Her purple eyes burned with new, terrifyingly lethal clarity—

And her axe came down.​

---

Author's Note:

Hope you liked it. Please review! Also, you can read this ahead on my Patreon! Oh, and do join my Discord Server!

 

[Ardvark]

Sounds useful.

Based on all the inconsistencies, does she get a random power each time she dies? Gotta save scum.

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

Sounds useful.

Based on all the inconsistencies, does she get a random power each time she dies? Gotta save scum.

Click to shrink...

Spoiler: Powers

It's not based on RBD. Erafassen here is a separate power. RBD doesn't directly effect it. Though, there is a catch...

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

There was a tug inside her… deep, electric, like something hooking into her spine. A word bubbled up in a whisper, not from memory but from instinct.



Erfassen.



Her fingers twitched. Her muscles coiled.



Is this…



…is it…



Subaru's lips curled into a wild, hysterical grin as the realization hit her like lightning.



"Copy moves…" she whispered, almost reverent. "Convert into mana-based motions…"



Her pupils dilated, a feverish tremble running up her arms.



"Erfassen… Is this my power?"



The boy braced himself, gripping his axe with both hands.



Subaru vanished.



A blur, no, a ripple of motion… and she reappeared right in front of him, her axe raised high, a crazed smile carving across her bloody face.



Her frills beat once behind her, kicking up dirt and wind.



Her purple eyes burned with new, terrifying clarity—



And her axe came down.​

---

Time didn't stop.



Or… did it…?



It only stretched, thinning like warm syrup around Subaru as her body hung in the air, legs coiled, axe raised, pigtails behind her.



But inside her head… everything froze. Her thoughts spun so violently fast that they collided, tangled, braided into something raw.



All my life… I thought peace was earned through smiles.



Her teeth tightened.



I thought if I was helpful, agreeable, pleasant… people would like me, and that would be enough.



Her arms trembled around the axe, not from exertion but from the weight of memory.



Classmates laughing at her jokes.



Teachers praising her brightness.Neighbours doting over her politeness.



Mom and Dad boasting to relatives about their perfect, well-behaved child.



Then the emptiness. The exhaustion. The sense that every smile was a mask stretching thinner and thinner over nothing at all.



So she retreated.



Room locked. Curtains drawn. The soft glow of screens becoming her only sun. Days melting together until the calendar lost all meaning.



And the wish she whispered into pillows.



Isekai me. Make me a hero. Give me a purpose. Let me matter.



Her fingers curled tighter around the axe handle.



And now… here she was.



Not as a hero.



Not the chosen one.



But a demon girl with frills… who had been slaughtered like livestock by a redheaded boy over a hundred times.



His form hung in front of her, suspended in the pause her mind had created. Eyes hardened by conviction. Sweat smearing dirt across his cheeks. His chest rising with each determined breath. His stance still prepared to fight her even after everything she had thrown at him.



He had killed her.



Over.

Over.

Over again.



Sometimes quick.



Sometimes slow.



Sometimes when she cried, sometimes when she begged, sometimes when she laughed like a lunatic from the strain of too many resets. He never changed.



Always that grim declaration.

​

Demons must die.​

Click to shrink...

Always that relentless pursuit.



Always that final blow.



She hated him.



She hated him with a depth that frightened her.. because it came from someone she wasn't sure she fully was anymore. The void of emotions of the demon whose body she now lived in sometimes bled into her instincts. Sometimes her hands moved with an intention she knew she hadn't gained. Sometimes her temper sparked like flint against steel, sharp and fast.



Was that her?



Or the girl she replaced?



Isekai'd… but into a demon. Into a girl. Into a target.



Why?



Why this body? Why this world? Why this boy?



Is he my enemy?



The boy's frozen expression firm, resolute… floated before her inner eye. Not cruel. Not vengeful. Just unwavering. He wasn't killing her out of pleasure. He wasn't mocking her. He wasn't even listening to her pleas, as if they were irrelevant to his purpose.



To him… demons were monsters.



To him… she was something that needed to be erased.



Does that make him wrong?



Her heart twisted.



Does that make me… a monster?



If the original owner of this body did awful things… if she had killed, manipulated, destroyed… then what was Subaru? A parasite? A thief? A murderer without memory?



Or… a victim?



She drew in a slow, shaking breath. In the freeze of thought, she examined the boy's stance.



He wasn't afraid.



She had seen him in the loops and he never faltered. He stood again and again, despite the fact that this loop… this moment… could have broken anyone else.



Is he my enemy?



…or is he just fighting for his survival too?



Her eyes softened, then sharpened again. Confusion and clarity mixing like oil and water.



I can kill him.



The realization came with a chilling clarity. With Erfassen pulsing under her skin, with her body responding faster than her thoughts, with the exhaustion of so many deaths weighing on her…



Yes. She could kill him.



And if she didn't?



He would kill her.



The loop would repeat.



Every instinct screamed the same answer: strike. End the predator before he ends you. Survive. This was the simplest logic in the world.



But then—



Wouldn't that make me exactly what he thinks I am?



Her throat tightened. Sweat prickled her neck.



Is surviving worth killing someone who believes he's protecting his people? Someone who sees her as a threat? Someone who, despite how much she hated him, had a strength she couldn't help but acknowledge?



His eyes, even in their frozen place, weren't empty. They carried something like duty. Something like pain.



He resets as well.



It was enough to show her one small truth:



They were both trapped.



Trapped in a cycle neither had chosen.



Subaru's breath trembled. Her grip on the axe tightened. Her eyes flickered with unstable mana.



If she killed him… would the cycle end? Would she be free?



Or would she become the thing she feared most… someone who killed because it was easier than understanding?



The pause in her mind stretched thinner.



Her heart pounded.



Her gaze locked on his.



Should I kill him?



The question wasn't quiet.



It echoed through her skull, resonating through the trembling muscles of her arms and the burning in her chest.



Should I survive?

Should I stop the pain?

Should I become the monster he thinks I am?

Should I prove him wrong?

Should I kill him?



The axe trembled.



Time waited.



Her thoughts sharpened to a single point, razor-fine.



And in that suspended heartbeat, Subaru made her choice.



Thus, time rushed forward again.​

---

Stark had braced himself, feet dug into the dirt, breath locked in his lungs, every muscle tensed… ready to receive something. A swing, a charge, a feint, anything Linie might try next.



But not this.



Not her materializing in front of him in a crack of displaced air, grin stretched too wide across her face, pupils blown open with a predator's thrill. Her axe was already there, already descending, already brushing the air at his throat.



Stark's heart lurched.



Time didn't just slow. It crawled. The world thickened to syrup around him. His own pulse hammered loud and sluggish in his ears as if it too had been caught in the temporal mud.



Oh, crap. Oh crap oh crap—



He tried to move, anywhere, sideways, backward, down, but his body refused. Her speed was impossible. Her expression was unhinged. Her mana… it was felt like standing in front of a… warrior who killed their own family…



Why did that thought appear in my mind? But that attack…



He couldn't block it.



He couldn't outrun it.



Is this… actually it?



A demon was going to kill him. Just like the ones who destroyed his village. Just like the thing he couldn't protect anyone from back then.



His arms twitched uselessly at his sides.



Fern is going to be furious. I can already imagine her yelling, 'Stark-sama, how did you die to such a predictable attack?!'



A weak, sinking laugh tried to bubble up inside him.



…will she cry?



He hoped not. She didn't deserve to cry for a coward.



And Frieren… she'll just stare in that weird, blank way she does. Probably say something like, 'Humans die easily,' and walk off. He tried not to be offended by how real that sounded.



Master Eisen…

A pit opened in Stark's stomach.

He'd be ashamed. A student who couldn't even hold his stance to the end…



He squeezed his eyes shut—



—but something rippled. A flicker. A blink of pale light right in front of him.



His eyes snapped open just in time to see her axe warp…the metal warping, thinning, stretching until the weapon wasn't an axe anymore at all. It twisted into some bizarre, smooth blade he'd never seen in his life, a shape that didn't belong in this world.



Linie's grin widened, the glee in her eyes sharpening into something that froze his blood.



She sliced…



…not at his neck.



But around him.



The wind howled as the blade tore through the air. Stark felt the shift a heartbeat too late. A cold prickle crawled up his spine.



Then…



STAB



White-hot agony sank into his shoulder.



"GHH—!!"



His legs buckled. He clutched the wound instinctively, feeling warm blood surge between his fingers.



Pain, pain, pain!



His arm quivered. His breath hitched and stuttered out of him. His vision blurred around the edges.



But she wasn't attacking again.



Why?



Why—



Why didn't she go for the head or the heart?



Why spare him? Why hesitate? Why stop when she clearly had the killing blow lined up, perfectly, effortlessly?



He stared at her through the haze of pain, confusion overriding the panic.



What was she doing? Why change her weapon? Why aim for a wound instead of finishing him?



What is she planning?



The fear didn't fade.



It grew.



STAB!



Stark's scream tore out of him the moment the blade punched into his shoulder… sharp, cold, vicious.



Linie didn't hesitate. She didn't even give him space to breathe.



She pulled the blade out.



And stabbed again.



And again.



And again.



Not meant for killing. Precise. Deep enough to make his vision blur and his legs weaken, but never where it would end him. Every strike landed with a sickening thud of steel meeting flesh, his body jerking each time like a puppet pulled on a string.



"Wh— WHY?!" he gasped, collapsing to one knee. His breath came in hot, broken bursts, sweat pouring down his temple. "W-What are you—?"



Linie's voice dripped venom, shaking but steady enough to make him feel ice crawl up his spine.



"One stab," she hissed, twisting the blade just enough to make him choke on pain, "for every ten times."



Her eyes were burning. No… not just that. Worse. Alive in a way he had never seen in a demon… a wild, haunted fury.



"T-Times…?" he choked, clutching his bleeding arm, trying to pull away, but she grabbed him by the collar and plunged the blade into his side.



He screamed.



"TEN," she snarled, yanking it free. "TWENTY."



Another stab. His breath hitched; his vision spotted black.



"THIRTY."



Another.



His knees slapped into the dirt fully now. Eisen had never trained him for this… cold punishment, relentless, personal hatred poured into a blade over and over and—



"FOURTY."



It didn't end.



"FIFTY."



His throat burned as he screamed again; his voice cracked on raw agony.



"Sixty… seventy… eighty…"



By the time she hit fourteen stabs, her breath was ragged, her chest rising and falling sharply. She was trembling, but not from exhaustion.



From emotion.



Stark spat blood, clutching his side, barely able to lift his head.



"You… monsters…" he managed between shallow, pained breaths. "Demons… you're all… monsters…"



Linie froze.



Just for a heartbeat.



He expected rage. Or a killing blow. Or that eerie smile she had flashed before attacking.



But what he didn't expect was the way her expression twisted: like the word "monster" wasn't an insult but a knife plunged into her chest.



Her brows knit together. Her lips trembled. Her face contorted not in cruelty…



…but in heartbreak.



Stark stared, wide-eyed, as something inside her cracked open.



"You—" Her voice broke. "You call me a monster?"



There was something raw in her tone. Something so human it didn't fit the creature he was supposed to be facing.



"Demons don't…" he whispered, unable to finish.



Her reaction hit him like a hammer.



"YOU MADE ME ONE!" Linie screamed, her voice splitting with fury and grief all tangled into one. "YOU! YOU DID THIS TO ME!"



Stark flinched, not from pain, but sheer confusion.



What… what was she talking about?!



"I don't understand—!" he started, bewildered.



"You're guilty!" she shouted, jabbing a shaking finger at him. "Guilty! GUILTY!"



Her voice cracked again, tears spilling down her cheeks: real tears, hot and rapid, mixing with the blood splattered across her face.



He stared in disbelief.



Demons didn't feel like this. Didn't sound like this. Didn't cry like this. Why does this seem so real? Is this not an act?



Was she insane? Retarded? Cursed?

He didn't know. He didn't understand.



"Every time you killed me and I returned—"



Linie clawed at her own head suddenly, both hands clutching her horns, her knees buckling as if something inside her skull was tearing apart.



"Stop— stop— STOP—!" she shrieked, voice warping into desperation. "I can't— I can't— I CAN'T SAY IT—!"



Stark tried to crawl backward, shaking, wiping blood from his mouth with trembling fingers. "W-what…?"



Her tear-stained face snapped toward him with a look so furious it froze him solid.



"This is your fault!" she screamed again. "YOUR FAULT!"



He opened his mouth to speak — but he had no words.



Not for this. Not for her. Not for the pain boiling off her like steam from a collapsing pot.



After the echo of her scream faded, Linie sniffed sharply, wiped her tears with the back of her wrist, and stood up, shaky, uneven, but upright.



Stark watched her turn away, limping slightly, still clutching her axe.



"W-Wait!" he shouted, forcing himself up onto one elbow. "Aren't you going to kill me?!"



She paused only for a second.



Without looking back, without letting him see her eyes, she spoke in a voice low and tight — not with rage this time, but something like exhaustion.



"I'm not like you."



Then she walked away.



Leaving Stark bleeding in the dirt, unable to move, unable to understand…



…unable to shake the sound of a demon girl crying.​

---

Subaru halted after only a few steps, breath still ragged from the mess she'd left behind. The trees ahead blurred for a beat as a strange, simmering satisfaction curled warm and ugly in her chest. She clenched her fists, steadying herself.



No. No. She wasn't… that. She wasn't supposed to enjoy hurting someone, even if he deserved—



She exhaled, slow. Focus.



East? No, that was where the damned beam had come from, slicing her apart like she was made of paper.



West? Same problem, the red-headed executioner's little elf friend lurking somewhere out there, probably with more staff death cannons ready to fire.



Both directions were suicide. Again.



So… south? North? Her head throbbed. She didn't know this world, didn't know where towns were, where monsters were, where anything was. Every direction felt like a gamble with death.



"Ugh…" She dragged a hand down her face. "I need something: a sign, a hint, whatever."



A coin. Yes. Flip a coin, random fate, better than standing here like an idiot. Her hand automatically went to her pocket—



Except.



She froze.



Right. This stupid frilly demon dress didn't have pockets. And even if it did, it wasn't her body. No wallet, no coins, no phone, no anything.



But then her mind snagged on the memory of the weapon in her hand: no, the weapon she had been holding. The axe she'd thrown, the blade she'd used to carve pain into Stark's shoulder… that hadn't even been the same weapon. It had changed. Morphed. Shifted into a katana mid-strike.



Wait, she thought she was going for Kusanagi… this doesn't look like Kusanagi… it had a faint dark aura around it… it looks familiar. From a manga? Anime?



She shook her head. Unimportant. What is important is…



Her breath caught.



How had she done that?



She closed her eyes, replaying the moment: the shimmer, the twist, the shape bending as naturally as pulling something from the bottom of her memory. She had pictured the blade… clearly, sharply… and it had been there. In her hand. Real.



Could she…?



Her fingers curled slightly, imagining the cold metal of a 100-yen coin pressed between them. A simple circle. The weight, the ridged edges, the worn feel of overuse. She visualised it hard, squeezing the image tighter, firmer—



Something shifted.



A small spark of pressure settled into her palm. Subaru opened her eyes.



There, resting in her hand, was a coin. A Japanese coin. The depth of the engraving, the smoothness, even the tiny scratches— her breath hitched.



"It works…" she whispered, staring at it. "It actually— I can create anything as long as I can imagine it…"



The possibilities slammed into her like a truck. Weapons. Tools. Armor. Maybe even, her throat tightened, a phone? A map? Food?



Her smile wavered.



Then she frowned.



…Why did the coin feel strangely heavy?



Heavier than it should've been. Not heavy enough to bother her current body, this demon form shrugged off weight like nothing, but still wrong.



A coin shouldn't feel like a chunk of metal meant for war. It pulled at her palm with a weight that didn't belong to such a tiny thing.



"…it's fine. Whatever." She shook her head sharply. Overthinking would get her nowhere.



"Alright," she muttered, stepping back for more room. "Let's do this."



She flicked the coin into the air. It spun, glittering unnaturally, almost too bright for a mundane object.



Clink.



Tail.



"Oh. So it's—"



She stopped.



"…ugh, I forgot to pick one…"



She slapped her forehead.



"Okay. Tail is North, Head is South. Got it."



She flipped it again.



The coin arced up, turning over smoothly, glinting like it weighed far more than it should.



Clink.



Tail.



She stared at it for a second.



"…North it is."



She snatched the coin off the ground, her expression firming. Her arm wiped a last streak of leftover tears from her cheek before she spread her arms, no, not dress, just raw propulsion she still didn't understand, and prepared to launch.



North.



Away from beams.



Away from the boy.



Away from the battlefield.



Away from everything that had killed her: again and again and again.



Her foot pressed into the dirt.



And she soared.​

---

Fern's boots tore through the undergrowth as she ran, breath tight in her chest, staff drawn close.



Stark's mana flickered like a candle guttering in wind, thin… erratic… fading. That alone made her quicken her pace. Stark wasn't subtle; his mana always burned loud and bright, like a bonfire trying too hard to impress. For it to shrink like this…



Her fingers tightened around her staff.



She pushed through a curtain of branches and burst into a clearing—



—and froze.



"Fern…"



The word came out slurred, weak, almost swallowed by the forest air.



Stark was slumped against the base of a tree, armor split and soaked in red.



His face was ghost-pale, streaked with dirt and blood. His breathing was shallow, almost trembling.



His axe lay abandoned in the grass. Deep wounds, stab wounds, multiple, bled freely along his torso, shoulders, arms. Whoever did this hadn't meant to kill him quickly. They wanted him to suffer.



Her heart plummeted.



"Stark-sama!" The sound tore out of her, sharper than she meant. She darted to him, dropping to her knees. "How did this happen?"



He lifted his head, barely. His eyes were unfocused but he still tried to look at her, tried to speak.



"I… I lost… to the demon," he rasped. "She's more skilled than I… I thought… didn't kill me… said… my fault…"



"Don't talk!" Fern snapped, voice cracking with fear.



He tried to lift a hand but it fell uselessly to his side, fingers twitching. Fern pressed her staff forward, mana swirling sharply around the top.



Levitation.



Stark's body lifted from the ground in a gentle pull of magic. Fern stood and guided him upward, keeping him stable with both hands. Even suspended, blood dripped freely from him, pattering onto the leaves below in soft, horrible taps.



"We'll get you to a healer," she muttered under her breath, more to herself than him. "Just stay awake. Stark-sama, stay awake."



He groaned. His eyelids drooped.



"Stark-sama!" Her voice broke again. "Don't sleep. Look at me."



His eyes fluttered… opened halfway… then rolled.



No. No, no, no—



Fern gritted her teeth and fed more mana into the spell, boosting their speed, pulling him through the air as she half-ran beneath him. Branches whipped past them. Her legs burned.



"Stark-sama, talk to me!" she shouted up at him. "Say something."



His lips barely moved. "…Fern…"



She almost stumbled.



"Good. Keep talking." Her breath hitched. "You're going to be fine. Don't close your eyes."



But his head sagged to the side, breaths shortening, growing faint.



Fern swallowed hard and pushed harder, mana glowing around her like a thin, desperate halo.



"Just hold on," she whispered. "Please… hold on."​

---

Frieren's bootsteps softened as she followed the nun down the hushed stone corridor, her expression unreadable beneath the dim torchlight.



The scents of incense and dried lavender drifted faintly from the prayer hall behind them, trailing her like a fading veil of peace: one she didn't particularly need. Stark being injured was… inconvenient, maybe. Surprising? Not really.



He tended to overextend himself, get emotional, get reckless. But defeated? By that demon girl whose mana barely registered as noteworthy? No. Stark was stronger than that. He had fought goblin bosses, orcs, dragons, faced menacing serpents before, and even if he'd lost, it should have been nothing beyond bruises or maybe a deep cut.



Not this.



Not something serious.



She kept walking.



The nun stopped before a plain wooden door, hands clasped politely, though her gaze contained a careful warning.

"Miss…?"



"Frieren," the elf answered curtly.



"Yes, Miss Frieren. Your teammate's condition is not well, so… please brace yourself."



Frieren blinked once at that, slow, deliberate. Hm. Odd phrasing. Stark was too sturdy to be not well. He'd probably fainted from embarrassment or something similarly stupid.



Still, she pushed the door open.



A wave of sharp herbal fragrance struck her nose: medicinal powders, crushed leaves, bitter roots steeping in bowls of steaming water. Underneath it lingered something coppery and raw.



Blood.



The slow scrape of a stool. Fern's shoulders tensed beside the bed, her back rigid as if struggling to hold herself together.



A priest hunched over Stark's unmoving form, hands moving quickly: rags red-soaked, fingers pressing new mixtures into open wounds before binding more cloth tightly over them. The man's brow was beaded with sweat despite the cold air.



Frieren stepped in.



Her eyes slid to Stark.



And for the first time in a long time, something in her expression barely shifted.



Wounds.



Stab wounds.



Not one.



Not two.



A constellation of them across his arms, shoulders, chest: places meant to incapacitate but not kill. Deep punctures, angled with precision.



Deliberate cruelty, or worse, intentional restraint.



Frieren's breath stilled in her throat for a small, exact fraction of a second.



How?



The demon girl shouldn't have been capable of this. Not with that mana. Not with that… whatever strange technique she had. Stark should've overwhelmed her. At worst, traded blows and won. At minimum, retreated.



Her mind ran the numbers automatically. Mana flow. Physical strength. Predicted trajectories. The demon girl's movements…



Frieren's appraisal and years of experience had told her that the demon was weak. Not this strong. Skilled, but not this skilled. Nothing about her should have allowed this outcome.



So…



How?



Frieren lowered her eyes, the quiet of the infirmary settling over her like a shroud as Fern's words hung in the air.



"…how?" she whispered again, but this time it wasn't about the wounds. It was about the outcome, about Stark lying half-dead before her, pale beneath layers of blood-soaked bandages, breaths shallow, muscles twitching every time the priest's fingertips brushed a torn edge of flesh.



She stood beside Fern, the two of them facing the bed like twin pillars carved from unease. Stark's skin trembled under the priest's hands; his shoulders jolted whenever the needle passed through.



Frieren exhaled faintly. "…Fern. Tell me."



Fern's hands were clasped tightly in front of her, knuckles white. "He… he lost consciousness when I was bringing him here, so he couldn't say much." Her voice cracked with frustration she rarely showed. "But he did confirm it was her. That demon girl. She did all of this."



Frieren's brows drew in by a fraction—her version of a gasp.



She was really this strong…?



Her gaze drifted downward, to the pale mess of Stark's torso and arms. The priest was working quickly: his hands steady, but his breaths were uneven, tense.



Frieren stepped closer, leaning over slightly to get a better look.



"…Father," she murmured. "What's wrong with these wounds? They look… odd."



The priest didn't immediately answer. He wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve, then steadied his needles again.



"I have never," he said, voice tight, "never seen wounds that behave like this."



He pointed with a trembling fingertip.



"These are not clean cuts. Not jagged either. They're… layered. Almost like the blade that made them shifted shape as it pierced. See here: this line is a narrow stab, but it blooms wider inside, like a hooked edge tore it open. And this one: this should have been a straight puncture through the deltoid, but the muscle fibers are ruptured diagonally, like something twisted or split apart mid-entry."



Frieren narrowed her eyes.



The priest continued, voice quickening as he tried to keep stitching the moment he parted the torn tissue.



"And every time I suture it, every time the wound pulls itself back open. It's like the tissue remembers the impact and replicates the tear. I've tried cross-stitching, layered stitching, pressure stitching… none of it holds. Even the edges burn slightly, like the blade carried residual energy or mana."



"Does Divine Magic not work?" Frieren asked.



"I tried." He swallowed. "It didn't respond. Not even the lowest healing incantations."



Fern's eyes widened. "Not even the… basics?"



"No." The priest shook his head. "That's why I resorted to traditional methods. And even those—" He lifted the bloody thread. "—aren't working either."



"Do you have any idea why?" Frieren pressed.



"My best guess," the priest muttered, "is that the weapon was coated with a poison that disrupts healing… or worse, it was a cursed blade. One designed to resist divine interference. Some ancient weapons do that, blades made to sever more than flesh. To sever vitality."



"I see…" Frieren murmured, the gears turning behind her calm façade.



A low groan escaped stark's throat. His eyes cracked open, unfocused at first… then sharpening slightly when they landed on her.



"…Frieren…" he breathed.



She stepped closer. "Stark. How did this happen? What weapon did she use?"



The priest paused his stitching long enough for Stark to try answering.



"I… I don't know…" Stark whispered, eyelids fluttering. "It was a sword with…"



His voice thinned out into nothing. His head tilted to the side as consciousness slipped from his grasp again. His body twitched once from a spike of pain, then sagged into stillness.



The father resumed working immediately. "In caseI can't handle anymore," he paused. "I would suggest you take him and head North."

"North?" Fern asked.



"There is a man I know, he might be able to help."



Frieren stepped back, folding her arms, her expression dropping into one of deep calculation. She stared at the floor as if the answer might imprint itself on the stones.



An adolescent demon capable of producing such wounds.

An adolescent demon capable of overwhelming Stark.

An adolescent demon with cursed weapons…?



Her mind pried at the possibilities.



"Frieren-sama…" Fern's voice came gently.



Frieren lifted her gaze.



Fern was staring at the floor, the shadows under her eyes darker than usual.



"You said," Fern whispered, "that we could defeat them. That we were stronger. But we didn't win."



Frieren had many answers: logic, tactics, centuries of experience that could explain a thousand things.



But none of them applied here.



None of them felt true.



So she said nothing.



Silence stretched between them, not cold, not distant… but heavy with the weight of something new.



Doubt.



She didn't know how, but she had a feeling that the demon is… she will meet her again.



And next time they meet…



"That demons must die,"​

---

The village appeared gradually, not as a sudden reveal but as a thinning of the forest, trees giving way to broken fences and crooked silhouettes that once passed for homes. Subaru slowed mid-air, then descended cautiously, boots touching dirt that had not been stepped on in a long, long time.



Nothing moved.



No footsteps.

No breath.

No heartbeat.



She stood still, eyes half-lidded, letting that strange awareness spread through her again—the thing she didn't have words for. It wasn't sight. It wasn't sound. It was more like pressure. Like feeling the shape of the world pressing back against her existence.



Nothing pressed back.



"…Empty," she muttered.



Her shoulders sagged a little. Relief, maybe. Or disappointment. She wasn't sure anymore which one she preferred. Crowds meant danger. People meant questions. Questions meant explanations she couldn't give without sounding insane.



An abandoned village was perfect.



She walked between the houses, each step crunching softly on gravel and old leaves. Roofs had partially collapsed, wooden beams sagging inward like tired spines. Doors hung loose on rusted hinges. Windows stared at her like blind eyes.



Whatever happened here, it hadn't been recent. The air smelled old: dust, mold, dry wood, and something faintly metallic that might've once been blood or might've just been her imagination.



She paused.



Again, that sense.



She closed her eyes and focused.



Nothing.



No mana signatures. No demonic pressure. No human warmth. Just emptiness stretching outward in a quiet radius around her.



"…Guess this is demon senses," she said quietly. "Terrifyingly convenient."



She shook her head and got to work.



If she was going to survive, really survive, not just reset her way through disasters, she needed supplies. Something useful. Anything.



She entered the first house carefully, the axe, held loosely in her hand. The floorboards creaked but didn't give way. Inside, the place had been ransacked long ago. Drawers pulled out. Shelves bare. A table overturned like someone had flipped it in a panic and never come back to set it right.



She checked anyway.



Nothing.



The second house was much the same. Broken pottery. Rotting cloth. A child's wooden toy lying on its side, half-buried in dust.



She didn't touch that one.



By the third house, fatigue was beginning to sink in, not physical, but mental. The kind that crawled up your spine and whispered that even effort was pointless.



Then she saw it.



A strip of fabric draped over the back of a chair, surprisingly intact. Not torn. Not rotted. Just… forgotten.



Subaru approached it slowly, like it might vanish if she moved too fast.



She lifted it.



"…Oh," she murmured.



The fabric was nice. Softer than she expected. Thick enough to be warm, thin enough to breathe. Some kind of woven cloth, maybe meant to be a scarf or shawl. The color was muted—dusty brown with faint patterns stitched into the edge.



She brought it closer, rubbed it between her fingers.



Still good.



A strange, quiet satisfaction filled her chest.



"Okay," she said softly. "That's one thing."



She stepped outside, holding the cloth up and staring at it thoughtfully. Her gaze drifted upward, catching her reflection in a cracked window.



Small frame.

Frilly dress.

Twin tails of short hair.

And those damn horns.



She sighed.



"…Yeah. That's still a problem."



She folded the cloth, then unfolded it again, experimenting. Wrapped it once. Twice. Adjusted the angle. Tugged here, smoothed there. The fabric slid easily over her hair, settling into place.



A turban-like wrap.



She tilted her head left. Right.



The horns disappeared beneath the folds.



"…Huh," she said, blinking. "That actually works."



It wasn't perfect. Anyone looking closely might notice the shape beneath. But from a distance? From a glance?



She looked human enough.



That mattered more than she wanted to admit.



She tied the end securely, testing it with a few sharp head movements. It stayed put. Relief loosened something tight in her chest.



"Good," she whispered. "Good start."



Encouraged, she resumed searching.



House after house. Shed after shed.



Nothing useful.



No food.

No weapons.

No medicine.



Just remnants of lives that had ended or fled, leaving behind hollow spaces where warmth used to be.



By the time the sky deepened into a darker shade of blue-black, her steps had slowed. Her thoughts grew fuzzy at the edges. She checked the sky instinctively, trying to gauge time by the stars: still unfamiliar, still wrong.



"…Midnight," she guessed. "More or less."



Her body didn't protest much, but exhaustion weighed heavy anyway. Emotional exhaustion. The kind sleep couldn't fully fix but was still better than staying awake.



She estimated the distance again in her head. The lake. The battlefield. The forest.



"At least thirty kilometers," she murmured. "Probably more."



Far enough.



She chose a house near the edge of the village, one that still had most of its roof intact. Inside, the air was dry. The floor uneven but stable. One room still had a bed frame, though the mattress was long gone.



She closed the door behind her, sliding a broken chair under the handle: not that it would stop anything serious, but habits were hard to kill.



She cleared debris from one corner, then laid the cloth down carefully. It wasn't much, but it was something.



She sat.



Then lay back.



The ceiling above her was cracked, moonlight slipping through like pale fingers. Dust motes drifted lazily, glowing as they passed through the light.



Her body sank into the floorboards.



"…Today sucked," she said quietly.



No one answered.



She pulled the cloth closer, wrapping it around her shoulders. The fabric was warm. Comfortingly solid.



Her eyes slowly closed.



For now, she was alive.

For now, she was alone.

For now, the world was quiet.

For now, she was going to rest.

Tomorrow? She'll head North.​

---

They were running.

Boots slammed against dirt and roots, breath tearing out of lungs in ragged, animal gasps. Branches whipped past, leaves clawing at skin and clothes as the remaining bandits fled without formation, without pride, without even looking back.

One by one, the screams came.

A shout cut short.

A wet sound.

A body hitting the ground too hard to be alive.

The man at the back heard all of it.

He didn't dare turn around.

His sword felt too heavy in his hand, arm shaking so badly the blade rattled faintly. He could hear his own heartbeat louder than anything else, pounding in his ears like a war drum announcing his death.

"Keep running," he whispered to himself, voice cracking. "Just keep running—"

Another scream. Close this time.

Too close.

The forest thinned ahead, moonlight spilling through the trees. Relief flared for half a second—then died as his foot skidded on loose gravel.

He stumbled out of the tree line and barely stopped himself from plunging forward.

A cliff.

The land simply ended, dropping into darkness. Wind rose from below, cold and mocking, carrying the distant sound of water crashing far beneath.

"No… no no no—!"

He staggered back, nearly falling again, then spun around wildly, sword snapping up toward the bushes at the edge of the clearing.

"Stay b-back!" he screamed, voice shrill, broken. "I'll— I'll kill you!"

The bushes rustled.

A figure stepped out calmly, as if she were strolling into a tavern rather than a killing ground.

She was short, smaller than he expected. Green hair tied back into a high ponytail that swayed with her steps. Her posture was relaxed, loose, predatory in the way a cat looked relaxed just before it pounced.

Her eyes locked onto him.

Green. Sharp. Focused.

Not a hint of fear.

"It's been a while," she said casually, tilting her head, "since I had some fun."

The man swallowed hard, sweat running into his eyes. "S-stay back! I said—!"

She took a single step forward.

"Still," she sighed, almost bored, "this is boring."

"I SAID STOP—!"

He never finished.

There was no flash, no warning, no dramatic swing he could follow. One moment she was standing there, staff loosely held at her side.

The next—

His world tilted.

The sensation didn't register as pain at first. Just… wrongness. Weightlessness. The ground pulling away.

His lower half slid forward, boots scraping helplessly over dirt and stone before tipping over the cliff's edge. His upper body remained standing for half a heartbeat longer, sword still raised, eyes wide with incomprehension.

Then gravity claimed the rest.

Blood sprayed the air in a brief, ugly arc.

One half fell screaming into the abyss.

The other collapsed in place, lifeless before it hit the ground.

Silence returned to the clearing.

Übel lowered her staff slowly, the tip still humming faintly as the residual magic faded. She exhaled through her nose, unimpressed.

She crouched down near the cliff's edge, careful not to get blood on her boots, and looked up at the moon hanging full and pale in the sky.

"Hm," she murmured, squinting slightly. "I wonder…"

She lifted her staff and casually aimed it upward, as if lining up a shot.

"Could I cleave that?" she wondered aloud.

She imagined it: magic slicing through the night, the moon splitting cleanly in two, drifting apart like cut fruit.

After a moment, she lowered the staff again.

"…Probably not."

She rested her chin on her knee, elbow propped casually, gaze drifting back to the forest where the bandits had fled. The night was quiet now. Too quiet.

It had been a long time.

At least a year.

A year since she'd fought someone who made her blood sing. Someone who didn't fold instantly, didn't scream and die before she could even enjoy it. Most people were disappointments. Weak. Predictable. Fragile.

She sighed, the sound carrying faintly in the wind.

"So boring," she muttered.

Reaching into the inside of her dress, she pulled out a folded parchment, edges worn from being handled too many times. She unfolded it, scanning the official seal and neat lettering with mild annoyance.

"Looks like it can't be helped."

The First Class Mage Exam.

Again.

Last time's memories flickered through her mind: standing in the exam hall, listening to an instructor brag about his impenetrable defense spell. Watching every other mage fail to even scratch it.

Then her turn.

He had asked, smugly, who could stop his defense.

She had raised her staff.

And cut him in half.

Clean. Simple. Efficient.

They had disqualified her on the spot.

She snorted softly. "He shouldn't have asked."

Second time, then.

Second time was the charm, they said.

She folded the parchment back up and tucked it away, rising to her feet in one smooth motion. The moonlight caught her eyes as she turned northward, a slow grin creeping across her face.

She raised her staff and pointed it toward the distant horizon.

"Time to head north," Übel said quietly.

The wind shifted, carrying with it faint traces of mana, distant conflicts, unknown mages moving toward the same destination.

Her grin widened.

"I can smell it," she added, excitement finally stirring beneath her usual boredom. "There will be unmatched fun."

With that, she stepped forward and vanished into the trees.​

---

Author's Note:

Hope you liked it. Please review! Also, you can read this ahead on my Patreon! Oh, and do join my Discord Server!

 

[samChan]

Welp, let hope that next time she can learn to avoid magical attacks.

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

Welp, let hope that next time she can learn to avoid magical attacks.

Click to shrink...

Let's hope she can avoid another loop.

 

[Ranni The Witch]

Ohhh this is here
Very nice
Love this story

 

[McPhoenixDavid]

Ohhh this is here
Very nice
Love this story

Click to shrink...

Thanks!