The other, by no surprise, is Devon.

  He stands in the corner of the room, as if he has always belonged there. No armor. No weapons in sight. Just the same slick black body suit as mine, molded perfectly to his frame, clinging to every curve of muscle. Broad shoulders. Thick arms. A body built to break things. A body that was never meant to lose.

  He looks like a god that forgot what mercy is.

  He laughs when he sees me drag my broken self. “Is it only you?” he asks with an arrogant scoff, eyes dragging over me like I am already a corpse.

  “It appears so, big brother.” My voice comes out lighter than I feel. Wrong. Like something cracked inside me and has decided to joke about it. “I’ve died quite a few times to get here. Actually, would you believe me if I told you I lost my head twice, I think. Died of exhaustion. Killed myself. It’s been insane, man.”

  “Huh,” he mutters. “So Adam’s pet is broken.”

  “Adam’s pet is doing just fine, thank you for asking.” I laugh, and it hurts. My chest, my ribs, my soul, everything hurts. “In fact, she’s here to get what was promised to her. As you can see, the fates are cruel as always.” My smile feels thin. Wrong. Like stretched skin. “But I guess if killing you is what is needed, then killing you is what I must do.”

  I steady myself. There is no warning. He moves. Not fast. Not slow. Just inevitable.

  I don’t see a weapon. I don’t see him draw anything. One moment he is there, and the next something cold and final is inside my chest. Buried deep. Punched through muscle, through bone, through whatever was still keeping me alive.

  His blue eyes glow as they lock onto mine. I don’t even feel the pain at first. Just pressure. Just weight. As though the world has finally found my heart and decided to crush it with two fingers.

  Then he twists. Everything in me tears.

  My lungs forget how to breathe. My hands go numb. The room tilts, stretching into something far away and unreal. Blood fills my mouth, thick and metallic, crawling down my throat whether I want it to or not.

  He lets go, and I fall.

  I am dead.

  [You have died]

  The silence that comes with those words should calm me. It should be peaceful, like sinking into deep water and finally letting go.

  But what comes next rips that comfort away.

  [Return has been blocked by A New Rule]

  What?

  What does that even mean?

  [Rule: The Three Laws of the Crow]

  [Established Law: The Crow shall die after dying three times]

  [You have been resurrected by the Laws of the Crow]

  I do not stay dead. Something hooks into my soul. Not gently. Not kindly. It latches on and yanks. I feel myself being dragged backward through darkness, through fire, through whatever waits between moments.

  My body answers before my mind does. Pain slams into me first, sharp and absolute, and I gasp like I’ve been drowning for years.

  Air tears into my lungs. My heart kicks like it’s trying to escape my chest.

  “Interesting,” Devon says. “You’re an undying.”

  He hasn’t moved. He is still standing where he killed me. Still holding the weapon.

  Now I see it clearly. A sword unlike any I have ever seen. Double-edged. Black. Smooth. Its surface reflects like a mirror, swallowing light instead of shining it. A blade made for cutting souls, not just flesh. Perfect for someone walking the path of a demon.

  I see my reflection in it. Bloody. Filthy. Hair clotted with dark streaks that aren’t all mine. My eyes are too wide. Too alive.

  But there are no wounds on me. No hole in my chest. No torn muscle, no shattered bone.

  The resurrection has done its work. My body is whole again, like nothing ever touched it. Even the crushing gravity feels lighter now, like the room is testing me… adjusting.

  “Have you ever heard of the phoenix?” he continues, studying me like a curiosity instead of a threat. “A firebird that resurrects no matter how many times you kill it. Not even time can finish it off.” His eyes narrow slightly. “Are you like that?”

  He sounds fascinated. He doesn’t know I am not supposed to be able to do this. He doesn’t know that something else has just claimed me.

  And it has rules. And now, so do I. “Like this? Nah. Usually I reset the day and try again. But I guess things have changed because I am in this place.”

  The Laws of the Crow. I don’t know what that is. But I do know this:

  When Rules are established, a constellation’s influence gets pushed back. Overwritten. Restricted. The Three Laws of the Crow are preexisting laws in this place.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Which means…If that’s true, then I only have two more deaths before I die for real.

  Devon lets me stand. He doesn’t rush me. Doesn’t press the advantage. His blue eyes stay on me the entire time, watching, measuring, until I raise Horus’s Agony between us.

  There is no fear in his gaze. No concern. Only amusement. Like he’s already decided how this ends.

  I suck in a breath. He lunges.

  Our swords meet in a violent clash that stills the air for a heartbeat. Steel screams when it grinds against steel, sparks bursting between the blades. The force of his strike rattles through my arms, through my shoulders, into my spine. My parry is barely worthy of the word.

  He’s strong. Not just physically. His movements are clean. Efficient. Veteran.

  I track his blade, force myself to read the angle of his shoulders, the shift of his hips. I manage to dodge two direct slashes, barely twisting out of reach, boots skidding against the floor.

  But it isn’t enough. He pounces like a predator that’s done playing.

  A sudden horizontal cut.

  I bend backward on instinct.

  Too slow.

  The blade kisses my stomach, and fire explodes across my nerves. Blood spills instantly, warm and slick, soaking into my suit.

  I stagger. He doesn’t give me time to breathe. He never intended to.

  That doesn’t scare me, though. This is just a scratch compared to what I’ve already crawled through in this hell.

  “Stronger than I remember. Adam was right about this place and about pushing us.” He sounds pleased. Almost proud. “You barely mastered the basics, and yet you can keep up with me.”

  I don’t answer. I keep my eyes on him. On the way, his shoulders settle. On the tension in his fingers. On the breath he hasn’t released yet.

  I hold mine too. For a second, the room feels like it’s waiting with us.

  Then his sword starts to glow.

  A cold, bluish light crawls along the black blade, veins of Ether spreading like rot through metal. The air thickens. My skin prickles. Every instinct in me screams that whatever he’s about to do will kill me if it lands clean.

  Devon is a great fighter. But he isn’t untouchable. He comes in hard. I meet him.

  Our blades crash, and a shockwave rips through the floor beneath us, cracks spider-webbing outward like broken bones. The impact numbs my hands. He swings with raw, crushing brutality, like he wants to split me in half and be done with it.

  I answer with soft movements. Short steps. Redirects. Letting his power slide past instead of meeting it head-on.

  Brutality against restraint. Violence against survival.

  We clash again. And again. Metal screams. Sparks burst. The echoes crawl up the walls and come back to us warped and hollow, like the room itself is screaming with us.

  After the third exchange, we separate.

  My arms are shaking. He raises his sword. His Ether surges, and a wave of blue light erupts from him, flooding the room like an ocean breaking loose from the sky.

  The air burns. My vision distorts. The pressure alone feels like it’s trying to peel my skin off my bones.

  This…This is far beyond what I thought was possible for me. It’s terrifying. This is what Bloodhaul wants. This is what they were trying to build inside us.

  I will not let this kind of monster walk out into the world.

  Devon is of the demon pathway. If this world is a product of what demons are capable of, then Devon should die here and now. Die by my hand.

  There is no time to think. No space to hesitate. His attack is too fast, too wide, too lethal. So, I do the only thing left. I drop.

  I slide under the wave of Ether as it tears through the space above me. The energy grazes my back and side and it feels like being skinned alive by fire and glass at the same time. Flesh burns. Nerves scream. The smell of my own blood and scorched skin fills my nose.

  But I live. At the lab, Adam always said the human mind is capable of terrifying things when it has a single, clear goal.

  I believe him now.

  The world slows. Not because it actually does, but because my mind refuses to let anything else exist except the next second.

  I roll. I plant my feet. I throw.

  Horus’s Agony leaves my hand like a cannon shot.

  The blade punches into Devon’s shoulder, ripping through muscle, shattering bone, and bursting out through his back in a spray of blood and shattered fragments. The force jerks him sideways like a puppet with its strings cut.

  He screams.

  Not a shout. Not a curse. Just a raw, animal sound torn straight from his throat.

  His eyes snap to me, wide and bloodshot, veins crawling across the whites like cracked glass. His sword dips. His balance breaks. Horus’s Agony is a demon sword. If anything in this world knows how to make a demon suffer, it is that blade.

  “What… why… why do I feel weak?” he breathes.

  His voice doesn’t sound like him anymore. It sounds small. Thin. It might snap if he talks any louder.

  “Because you are going to die,” I whisper. “Adam once said that all beings are weak in their final moments. Death either makes one strong or weak. I believe it is the latter for you.”

  Blood spills from his mouth when he tries to speak again. It runs down his chin, thick and dark, dripping onto the floor in slow, ugly drops.

  “But, Sister…” he wheezes. “Are you really going to just let me die? I know a secret about you…”

  He coughs, hard, choking on his own blood. “A secret Adam doesn’t want to share with you…”

  There’s a weak smile on his face now. Twisted and Desperate. He thinks words can still save him.

  “I do not care.”

  My breath shakes as I force more Ether into the lightning ring. It wakes like something hungry. Blue arcs crawl over my fingers, snapping and hissing, biting into the air.

  The smell of ozone mixes with blood. That’s when I see it. Panic. Real, ugly panic, flooding his eyes when he notices the light gathering around my hand.

  “Sister!” he shouts, voice cracking. The blue in his eyes flickers, stained red at the edges. “If you kill me here, I swear to you, I will curse you, and I will come back. I don’t care if they want you alive. I will kill you! Do you hear me?!”

  He grabs the sword in his shoulder and yanks. It doesn’t move. The blade is buried too deep, locked in flesh and bone. The motion only tears him open more, and he screams again, this time short and broken, like something inside him finally snapped.

  “You will kill me?” I scoff softly. My voice doesn’t sound like mine anymore. “Oh, I wish you could, brother.”

  Lightning crawls higher up my arm. And this time, he knows. He is not walking away from this. “You have no idea what it’s like to be a clone,” he gasps. “This is my chance to be better. To get his attention. You are irreplaceable. I am just a clone with demon blood. You are—”

  His voice breaks. Then his eyes turn fully red. Not glowing.

  But Bleeding.

  He throws his head back and roars, a sound so raw and wrong it doesn’t sound human anymore. It tears out of him as though something is trapped in his throat, something that has been screaming for years and finally gets to breathe.

  This is Chaos.

  The ring finishes charging. I don’t hesitate.

  I aim for the hilt of the sword buried in his shoulder and release everything.

  Lightning detonates. Thousands of volts tear through his body, riding straight down the metal and into his bones. His back arches violently, muscles locking, veins bulging like they’re about to split his skin open.

  He screams.

  A broken, animal sound that shreds out of his chest, soaked in terror and pain. Tears pour from his eyes, streaking through blood and soot and sweat.

  I’ve never seen him cry. Not in the lab. Not in training. Not when Adam punished him.

  But he’s crying now.

  Crying and screaming and shaking like his body is trying to tear itself apart from the inside. The smell of burned flesh hits my nose.

  And he finally drops to his knees.