The fourth one was Aquilo. The ruler of the ocean emotionlessly created a coin-sized hole in the middle of Theo’s forehead. The fifth was Randolph Clovis. Theo vividly felt the two falchions slicing through his neck. The sixth death was at Pride’s claws, and the seventh death was due to the storm arrow of Elvenheim’s guardian, Edwin.

He stopped counting after that.

Now, how many times... have I been killed?

Ten times, twenty times... At the very least, he had lost count. The face of the opponent changed every turn, but he always died a meaningless death. At least, he kept dying in unique ways. Some people were close to him, while others were enemies. But none of them even greeted him, and simply attacked him expressionlessly.

He had died over a hundred times. His opponents were the toughest people he had ever met, and his abilities were sealed away.

Theo stared at the new enemy before him with dark eyes.

“Randolph.”

The sword master was holding his double swords in a familiar stance. This was the third time he had seen Randolph. This space didn’t seem to only embody enemies from Theo’s memories, nor did it invite...