His heart thudded, steady, relentless, mocking. His fingers dug deeper into that throat, eager to snuff out the sound once and for all.
Shut up, stupid heart. Shut up.
Something seized his shoulders and ripped him backward. He fought to keep his grip, to finish the kill, but the pull was brutal. Iron hands slammed him onto the gravel, knocking the air from his lungs.
A giant stood over him, muscles coiled, a war hammer strapped to his belt. The man’s eyes burned with a mixture of rage and disbelief.
Derek’s gaze darted across the chaos. No exit. No escape.
Shouts crashed together, rising and falling around him. Voices, gasps, the pointed fingers of a crowd too close, too alive. Heat radiated from their bodies, that unbearable pulse of life. How easy it would be if it all went quiet. If every breath around him just… stopped.
“Derek!”
The voice hit like a whisper against his skull.
“Derek, it’s Vanda. Can you hear me? Hold on, I’m coming.”
He grimaced. Coming? Great. Another living soul. Exactly what he needed.
His hand brushed against his ear, finding a small black earpiece lodged there. The voice hissed out of it, persistent, invasive.
He tore it free and hurled it into the dirt.
The man, probably a soldier, took a step forward and reached for the hammer at his belt.
“Derek!”
This voice was different. Higher, urgent, cutting through the noise. A young girl fought her way toward him, elbows flying, hair tangled, fury blazing in her eyes.
Familiar. Too familiar.
Hands grabbed her arms, but she tore free, clawing and kicking like a cornered wildcat. Then she traced quick circles in the air, and light burst from her palms in a blinding flash. The people restraining her flew backward as if struck by a shockwave.
For a heartbeat, the world stilled. The glare faded, revealing her standing alone amid the fallen crowd.
A girl, kneeling now, trembling, tears streaking her dirt-stained cheeks. “Derek!”
The sound cracked something deep inside him. Memories surged, faces, voices, the echo of another life.
“Alyra…” His breath hitched. “It’s you?”
She nodded, breathless, eyes wide with relief. “Yes, it’s me.”
She scrambled to grab something from the ground and pressed it into his hand. A black earpiece, smudged with dust.
How the hell had he lost it? He had designed those things to stay put even under twenty Gs of acceleration.
He shoved it back into his ear and scanned the area. Uriela was gone, probably escorted back to the Cathedral. The plaza was filled with citizens, their whispers buzzing like static. Four soldiers of the Sacred Guard stood at the front, hammers gripped tight. Two were barely older than Alyra; the other two carried themselves like veterans.
On the ground nearby, a man clutched his neck and groaned.
Every hostile stare locked onto Derek. He raised his hands. “What’s going on?”
One guard, a blond man with a wild mane and a thick golden beard, stepped forward and pointed his hammer at him. “What’s going on is you were about to kill that guy.” He jerked his chin toward the man struggling to stand, one hand pressed to his throat. “Don’t play dumb. If I hadn’t pulled you off him, he’d be dead.”
Derek looked at Alyra.
The girl gave a tiny nod.
His stomach twisted. He’d almost killed someone. No warning, no control, just raw instinct.
Tunga had been right. Death, whatever it truly was, was crawling under his skin. He hadn’t thought it would happen so soon.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“Hey,” the blond guard called out. “The Cashnar’s not looking too good.” He shot a grin at his comrades. “Come on, boys. Let’s get him out of here so the celebration can continue.”
Without much ceremony, he hauled Derek up and slung him over his shoulder like a sack. The world flipped upside down.
“What the hell are you doing? Put me down! I can walk on my own!”
Alyra shrieked and grabbed the soldier’s leg, but he kicked her off. She hit the ground hard and rolled.
“Hey, asshole!” Derek barked. “She’s just a kid. You blind?”
“Shut up,” the man growled under his breath. “We’re just getting started with you.”
The other three soldiers behind him snickered.
Shit. No way they were taking him to a healer.
They turned down a side street, then another, into a dimly lit alley. Passersby caught a glimpse of them and quickly looked away, pretending not to see, moving faster until they were gone.
The so-called Sacred Guard knew exactly what they were doing. The devout citizens knew better than to get involved.
The blond dumped Derek onto the ground and gave him a satisfied grin. “Being called messiah got you thinking you can do whatever you want, huh?”
Derek spat at his boots. “I was doing whatever I wanted long before that, you piece of crap.”
If they were going to beat him to death, he might as well get a few good lines in first. He stood and raised his hands. “Four of you, armored and armed, against one unarmed guy.” His brow lifted. “Looks to me like you’re scared. Maybe you really think I’m the mighty Cashnar.”
The blond spat at his feet. “These guys are just here to drag you off once I’m done.” His lip curled into a crooked smile. “We’ll find some dung heap to bury you in.”
“All this trouble for little old me? Please, gentlemen, don’t bother. I’m perfectly capable of finding dung heaps on my own.” He gestured at them. “Case in point—you four.”
The man’s face hardened. He stepped forward, rage boiling under the surface.
A low buzz cut through the air above them. The sound grew louder, sharper. The unmistakable drone of giant wasps.
Every head tilted upward. Two metallic cylinders dropped from the sky and hovered half a meter off the ground, plasma cannons already trained on the blond soldier.
One of the younger guards dropped his hammer and ran. The others tightened their stance, weapons raised.
“Shade, Sunny, good to see you, boys,” Derek said. He walked up and rested a hand on each bot, giving them a casual pat. “Everyone, meet Shade and Sunny. Shade and Sunny, these are…” He squinted at the soldiers. “Hell if I remember your names.”
The blond sneered at the bots, chin high. “You think those tin toys scare soldiers of the Sacred Guard?”
Derek scratched his head. “Honestly? Not really. Though your buddy who’s still running and not slowing down says otherwise. So yeah, maybe plain old plasma cannons won’t stop you.”
The blond stepped forward and licked his lips, confidence bleeding into his grin. Sweat beaded at his temple.
Bolts of light lanced from Shade. A translucent barrier snapped into place around the soldier, swallowing the plasma bursts.
Just as expected. Another damn shield.
“Shade!” Derek barked. “I didn’t tell you to shoot.”
Shade answered by firing again. Sparks danced uselessly along the barrier.
Sunny hovered, wobbling with an annoyed buzz.
Derek spread his hands in mock apology. “You’ll have to excuse Shade. He’s got a terrible temper.”
The blond turned to his two remaining comrades. “See that, boys? No danger here. Let’s tear him apart.”
They stepped forward, then froze.
A deep vibration rolled through the alley, heavier than the last.
All of them looked up just as the NOVA’s drone glided down, smooth and silent.
It was the first time Derek had seen it outside the lab since the repairs had begun.
The drone hovered above their heads and flipped on two blinding spotlights, flooding the alley with white light.
The soldiers flinched, raising an arm to shield their eyes.
A sharp, playful voice boomed from the speakers. “Kneel before the sacred Cashnar!”
Derek dragged a hand down his face. “Vanda, what the hell are you doing?”
She ignored him. “Kneel! Or run, I don’t really care which.”
The soldiers stood frozen, mouths half open, caught in the glare.
Derek rolled his eyes. “Vanda, you’re just confusing them. Want to cut it out?”
“Orbisar commands you not to touch the Messiah!” Vanda declared in her most dramatic tone, which wasn’t dramatic at all.
The blond actually took a step back, but somehow kept his footing. One of his companions turned and ran.
The two who remained exchanged a look, nodded, and raised their weapons.
“Oh, you blockheads,” Vanda huffed. “Fine. You asked for it.”
The drone touched down and unfolded like a metallic flower, plates sliding and locking into place with smooth precision.
“Finally.” Derek spread his arms as the modules latched onto him one by one, wrapping him in steel and light.
The helmet sealed last. The world vanished, replaced by the glow of the HUD.
New data flickered across the visor—systems, diagnostics, ammo levels—and one new line that made his stomach tighten: Death energy levels.
Great. Something else he needed a tutorial for.
He locked onto the two soldiers ahead. Health bars and levels shimmered above their heads.
Both Silver 1.
Not a fair fight for his Bronze 5.
He’d seen the specs. NOVA had grown about seven percent during reconstruction. Inside, that difference was impossible to ignore. The suit felt heavier, denser, humming with restrained power.
With the Ascendant upgrades, the new magic systems, and that unsettling Death energy coursing through its core, maybe he could still take them despite the gap.
But another hit to NOVA right now could cripple everything. Not an option. Luck and a clever trick or two would have to do.
Time to put the Bronze-tier Illusion sphere to work.
“Vanda, load a volley of micro-missiles with Illusion magic. Alpha-one tactic.”
“Understood, Derek.”
The shoulder-mounted launcher unfolded with a sharp mechanical hiss. Two violet streaks shot upward, curling through the air. The soldiers’ eyes followed them, drawn in like moths to flame.
Then the missiles banked hard and came down in a tight arc, detonating between them. Thick, rolling clouds of purple smoke billowed through the alley.
The soldiers staggered back, coughing, waving the haze away as shapes began to form inside it.
Within seconds, the mist cleared—revealing five more NOVA suits, perfect mirror images of Derek’s armor.
Six NOVAs now stood shoulder to shoulder, each one hefting a plasma cannon far bulkier than anything the Repair Bots could carry. Every cannon locked squarely on the two soldiers.
“So,” Derek said casually, “here’s the deal. I’ve already gone toe-to-toe with guys way higher level than me… and higher than you. You turn around and walk away, and I won’t tell anyone how badly you embarrassed yourselves tonight.”
One of the soldiers didn’t wait to be told twice; he bolted down the alley.
The blond watched him go, jaw tight.
“Looks like you’re on your own now,” Derek said. “Wonder who’s going to help you dump me in that dung heap.”
The soldier curled his lip. “You think you’re safe? One day I’ll teach you the lesson you deserve.”
Derek sighed. “Take a number. The whole damn universe has been trying to teach me lessons for years. You think I’ve learned a single one?”
The soldier didn’t reply. He hooked his hammer onto his belt, turned, and stalked off down the alley without a glance back.
Derek let the NOVA’s cannons retract.
Footsteps echoed down the alley.
Alyra appeared, breathless. “Derek! I was looking for you. What happened? I saw those soldiers running away.”
He unlocked the NOVA’s helmet and lifted it open. “They wanted to teach me a lesson.” His gaze swept over the five illusory NOVAs still aiming their oversized cannons, then to the two real bots hovering nearby. “Guess something changed their minds.”
He shrugged. “Go figure.”
Alyra frowned. “I understand, but… what happened to you back in the square? Your eyes…”
She’d gone pale, her voice unsteady. Whatever she’d seen, it hadn’t been right. Not with him.
Derek stepped closer and dropped to one knee. The NOVA was bulkier now at Bronze 5; even kneeling, he still towered over her. “What about my eyes?”
“They were… like Faela’s.” She looked away. “When she used the power of Death.”
A shiver crept up the back of his neck. “You’re sure?”
She nodded.
“Derek?” Vanda’s voice crackled through the comm.
“Yeah?”
“Your entropic energy levels are spiking. What they call Death magic here is spreading fast. You don’t have much time.”
He exhaled slowly. “Got it. Then I’d better move faster.”
Alyra’s eyes shimmered with tears. “You… you have to go on that mission under the Citadel?”
There was no point hiding the truth. He nodded.
Her lower lip trembled. “But… you’ll go all alone?”
He gave her a faint smile. “No. Shade and Sunny are coming with me.”
And if he wanted even a small chance of success, he’d need someone else too. He stroked his beard, thoughtful. “I’m going to call someone else as well. Though… I doubt they’ll like the idea.”
The King is dead.
The Seven Great Houses gather to choose a successor, and Kayode Balógun is summoned to vote.
Five hundred years ago, his blood crowned an Empire. Now he owns no land, commands no knights, and bears a Blight no Healer could cure—one that leaves him Classless.
He is a Great Lord only in name.
When the vote is called, the nobles see him as nothing more than a pawn to be used.
Yet Kayode refuses to play their games.
He refuses to vote.
For that defiance, he is murdered.
Kayode wakes at dawn—alive, unscarred—and bound to an ancient Class long believed lost to time: The Kingdom Maker, the world’s only S+ Class.
Each death returns him to the same morning.
A hundred Loops.
And he will live them all as no one’s pawn.
What to expect:
- A world shaped by West African–inspired characters, traditions, and dynasties.
- Variance in Loop lengths and trajectories.
- Character driven storytelling with deep world-building.
- Political maneuvering, leverage, and plotting.
- LitRPG and progression fantasy systems with steady, earned growth.
- Lots, and lots of action!