The searing pain was a familiar companion now, a twisted echo in his endless loop of failures. It wasn't the demon's jagged blade that caused the sharpest agony, but the stark realization of the same mistake repeated for the seventh time in this cycle. He had pushed forward, just as before, hoping to observe the main escort’s formation from a closer vantage. His ambition, however small, had once again outstripped his meager capabilities as the weakest knight in Ashfall. He opened his eyes to the familiar stench of ozone and ash, the roaring din of the siege immediately assaulting his ears. The same crumbling cobblestone street, the same panicked cries, the same infernal glow from the demon legions beyond the breached walls. Kim Hyu-Gi stood, his breath catching in his throat, a ghost in this purgatorial replay. His armor, perpetually scuffed and inadequate, felt heavier each time, not from its physical weight, but from the cumulative burden of his futile deaths. “Another one bites it,” a gruff voice grumbled nearby. Sir Kael, a hulking knight whose face was a roadmap of scars, barely spared Hyu-Gi a glance as he adjusted his grip on a massive two-handed sword. Kael’s gaze was fixed on the collapsing defensive line, his expression one of weary resignation. For a fleeting moment, Hyu-Gi felt a pang of resentment. They saw him as disposable, a mere casualty count. And perhaps, he was. But the resentment quickly morphed into cold analysis. Kael. Always on the front line, always fighting with brutal efficiency. Yet, Kael, too, had fallen numerous times. Hyu-Gi had witnessed his demise more than once—overwhelmed by flying demons from above, or cornered by an unusually fast demonic beast that breached the main ranks. This time, Hyu-Gi decided, he wouldn't charge. He wouldn't even try to reach the Princess’s immediate vicinity. His new objective was simpler, crueler: survive longer than five minutes. He needed more data. He needed to understand the rhythm of death in Ashfall. He needed to *observe*. He moved, not towards the main breach, but towards a less heavily defended side alley, hugging the crumbling stone walls. The air was thick with dust and the metallic tang of blood. Above, grotesque winged demons, like twisted gargoyles brought to life, soared, occasionally diving to snatch a terrified civilian or a careless knight. Their movements were surprisingly fluid, almost graceful, before they descended into a frenzy of claws and teeth. His F-Class Basic Swordsmanship, which felt so potent in the F-Class gates of Earth, was a joke here. His attacks barely scratched the hide of even the lowest-tier demonic grunts. He had to think beyond direct confrontation. He ducked, a massive, horned brute of a demon swinging a bladed limb where his head had been a second before. The wind of its passage ruffled his hair. Panic flared, a primitive instinct he was learning to suppress. *Observe, Hyu-Gi. Observe.* The brute was slow, its movements telegraphed. Its weak point, he noted, was a vulnerable joint at the back of its knee, momentarily exposed when it overextended. But even if he landed a strike, what then? A thousand more would follow. His eyes darted to the knights nearby. Their formation was fluid, constantly shifting, trying to funnel the demons into killing zones. But the demons ignored such niceties, swarming over and through everything. He watched as a knight, attempting to parry, was caught off guard by a smaller, faster demon darting beneath the brute. The smaller demon, a skittering, six-legged horror, tore into the knight's leg before vanishing into the chaos. *Two types working in concert,* Hyu-Gi mentally logged. *Brutes draw attention, skitterers exploit openings.* A horrifying synergy. He died moments later, impaled by a flying demon he hadn't seen coming from a blind spot in the alley. The pain was immediate, absolute, and he welcomed the darkness for a fleeting second of respite. Respawn. Again. The cycle was etched into his very being. Each death was a fresh hell, but also a forced lesson. The mental scars accumulated, but so did the data points. He began to map out the zones of immediate danger: the main gate, where heavy demons clashed with the strongest knights; the crumbling northern wall, where flying demons dominated; and the eastern residential district, where smaller, swifter demons preyed on stragglers and civilians. His equipment was always the same: a dented, plain steel cuirass, a basic shield emblazoned with the Ashfall crest, and a dull, serviceable longsword. He was the most basic of basic knights, stripped of any distinguishing feature beyond his uncanny ability to reappear after death. No one questioned it, no one even seemed to notice beyond a momentary flicker of recognition. Just another nameless face, another body to throw against the tide. He tried a new approach. Instead of attempting to engage, he became a shadow. He stuck to the periphery, moving like a ghost through the besieged city, sometimes even feigning injury to avoid attracting attention from patrolling demons. He needed to see the Princess’s escort route. He needed to identify the optimal time and place where their defenses were weakest, where a sudden surge of demons caused the most confusion. He watched the Princess’s personal guard, a contingent of elite knights led by the stoic Sir Gareth. They were formidable, well-armored, and moved with practiced precision. They attempted several evacuation routes, each time repelled by overwhelming numbers. One route, through the old market square, seemed almost promising initially, until a massive, multi-limbed demon burst from beneath the cobblestones, shattering their formation and consuming three knights in a single, horrific gulp. Hyu-Gi, observing from a collapsing rooftop, felt a chill that transcended the pain of his inevitable subsequent death. The demons weren't mindless beasts. They were tacticians, albeit brutal ones. They learned. They adapted. And so, Hyu-Gi realized, must he. His

Chapter 33: Lessons in Ashfall's Blood