The Crystalline Manticore''s claws ripped through Kael''s leather armor like wet paper. Pain exploded across his chest as he stumbled backward, blood painting ancient stone in abstract patterns. His E-rank steel sword—purchased with three months of saved copper coins—clattered uselessly to the ground.


    [Critical Wound Detected]


    [HP: 12/642]


    [Status: Near Death]


    [Warning: Death Imminent]


    This isn''t how E-rank dungeon dives are supposed to go, Kael thought dimly as darkness crept into his vision. His team''s footsteps echoed down the corridor, already fleeing. No one wastes time saving the lowest-ranked member.


    The Manticore''s crystalline fangs found his throat.


    [HP: 0/642]


    [Status: Dead]


    Kael jerked awake in his bed, sweat-soaked sheets tangled around him. Sunlight filtered through cracked windows, illuminating the same musty apartment he could barely afford. The same apartment he''d been stuck in since that day five years ago, when he''d first awakened as a [Swordsman].


    "What... the hell was that?" He pressed a hand to his throat, finding only smooth skin. "Felt so real..."


    His status window flickered to life:


    [Kael Tercel]


    [Rank: E]


    [Class: Swordsman]


    [Level: 12]


    [HP: 642/642]


    He remembered that day clearly. The excitement when the blue light had enveloped him, the way his heart had raced when [Swordsman] appeared above his head. He''d thought it was destiny. After all, wasn''t that how all the stories went? A commoner awakens with a rare class, becomes the strongest hunter, saves the world?


    What a joke.


    Five years of constant training had taught him otherwise. His [Sword Energy] was barely enough to light a candle. His [Basic Swordsmanship] skill hadn''t progressed past level 2, despite countless hours of practice. While other awakened climbed the ranks, Kael remained firmly at the bottom, watching S-rank hunters soar through the sky while he struggled to afford decent equipment.


    "Just a nightmare," he muttered, climbing out of bed. "Has to be."You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Three hours later, the Manticore''s tail caught him mid-dodge, crystalline spikes punching through his chest. His last thought before death was, Huh, this feels familiar.


    He woke up again. Same bed. Same window. Same worthless stats.


    "Hey, you look like shit," his guildmate Marcus commented as they gathered for the dungeon dive. Marcus, with his C-rank [Spearman] class and actual talent, always seemed to find Kael''s struggles amusing. "Everything okay?"


    "Just... had a weird dream," Kael muttered. "Two of them, actually. Felt real."


    "Maybe you should see a healer—" Marcus started.


    The Manticore''s claws found him again. This time, Kael had enough time to think, Oh come on, at least let me dodge ONCE—


    Fourth morning. Same bed. Same window. Different Kael.


    "No. Absolutely not." He scrambled out of bed, threw on clothes, and ran for the city gates. The guards actually laughed when they saw him sprinting past.


    "Running from another debt collector, E-rank?" one called out.


    He made it halfway before invisible force yanked him backward.


    "Contract''s binding," the Guild enforcer drawled, telekinesis field shimmering. "The dungeon needs clearing."


    "You don''t understand," Kael babbled. "I''ve died there three times already! The Manticore keeps—"


    "Right. And I''m the Sword Saint''s illegitimate child." The enforcer''s telekinesis dragged him toward the dungeon. "Get moving, E-rank. Maybe if you''re lucky, you''ll get a different class after leveling up."


    I already have the class I wanted, Kael thought bitterly. Fat lot of good it did me.


    He remembered being sixteen, watching the Sword Saint''s exhibition match on a crystal screen in the town square. The way the legendary hunter had moved like wind given form, his blade leaving trails of golden light. That day, Kael had promised himself he''d become just like that.


    Instead, he got... this. An E-rank nobody who couldn''t even properly channel sword energy. A joke among his peers. The guy they sent in first because no one cared if he died.


    Fifth morning. Same bed. Same window. Kael stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks he''d memorized over five years of poverty.


    "I''m losing my mind," he whispered to the empty room.


    [The Nameless One observes.]


    The notification flickered in his vision for just a moment—there and gone like summer lightning. Kael sat up slowly, a hysterical laugh bubbling in his throat.


    "Oh," he said, thinking of all his failed attempts to become someone worthy of the [Swordsman] class. Of all the times he''d watched real talents soar past him. Of the pitying looks from the Guild instructors. "Oh, this is so much worse than going crazy."


    Behind him, somewhere in the shadows, ancient laughter echoed. It reminded him of the day he''d first awakened his class—full of promise and potential, right before reality came crashing down.


    The true nightmare was just beginning.


    And somewhere, in the depths of his mind, a traitorous voice whispered: Maybe this time, I''ll finally get it right.


    [Welcome to the Loop, Failed Swordsman.]


    Kael looked at his status window one more time, at the class he''d dreamed of since childhood, and laughed until tears came.


    Time to die. Again.