The Hero's Puppet Master

Ronan's eyes haunted him, her warmth and vibrancy a cruel reminder of the memory burned into his mind—a spear piercing Aurelia's lifeless body. He had seen her die fourteen times now, each death more brutal than the last.

"Oh, so the great king finally shows up!" Aurelia teased from the doorway, her green eyes full of mischief. "Late again, Ronan. At this rate, even the crumbs will be—"

"Shut up, pig," Ronan interrupted harshly, his voice as cold as ice.

Her smile evaporated, replaced by shock. "W-what did you just call me?"

"Stupid pig," he said, the words cutting and sharp.

The room went silent. Then, with a huff, Aurelia ran off. "Mama! Something's wrong with Ronan! He called me a pig!

Ronan exhaled and walked down the creaky stairs. He approached the table, took a bun from the platter, and took a small bite. 

The familiar warmth only brought him more bitterness. Fifteen times now. Same place. Same day.

"I was so close," he thought, anger simmering. I almost killed that bastard. Now my powers are gone, reset to zero. Again.

Images flooded his head—a village on fire, chaos all around. He saw a woman's desperate face, her voice calling to him, though the words were drowned out by the roar of flames.

His breaths grew shallow, panic closing in. He crushed the bun in his hand, crumbs spilling onto the table. Sweat trickled down his temple, and his chest heaved as if he had just run a marathon.

"Ron!" a concerned voice broke through the fog.

Eliana, their foster mom, rushed in the door with Aurelia and the rest of the kids, all with their own versions of fright.

"What is wrong?" she asked in a gentle, urgent tone as she spotted his shaky hands and ashen complexion.

Ronan blinked, the world slowly coming back into focus. He straightened, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

He glanced at the crushed bun in his palm. "I'm fine," he said, his voice hoarse. "Sorry about the mess."

Eliana didn't seem persuaded. She approached closer, lowered herself beside him, peering into his face through warm brown eyes filled with worry. "Aurelia mentioned something," she started softly, "that she thought you might have hit your head."

Aurelia crossed her arms, seemingly still annoyed. "He is acting strange, Mama. He's never like this... rude."

Ronan shrugged, his voice low and sleep-deprived. "It's only her mumbo jumbo," he said dryly. "I'm just fine."

The room was silent again. Eliana and the children looked at each other in confusion. Ronan himself seemed taken aback by what he had said. 

He was always shy and soft-spoken, but this was completely out of character.

Eliana tilted her head, a frown creasing her brow. "Ronan, are you sure you're okay? You seem. different.

Ronan pushed his chair back. He hesitated for one moment before stepping forward and taking her in a tight hold. "I am alright, Mama, if you are all right. Nothing will go wrong with us."

Eliana stiffened at the sudden hug, surprised by his changed behavior, but she hugged him just as fast. "If you say so, Ronan," she said softly.

Ronan closed his eyes, hiding his expression in her embrace. "As long as you're here, nothing else matters," he thought.

But the memories of her dying, again and again, swirled in his mind. "Fourteen times. Fourteen times I've held your lifeless body. I swore every time it would be the last."

He clenched his fingers tighter on Eliana as the guilt and frustration flooded him. He had witnessed her death too many times. 

The same thing kept repeating itself: bandits attacking their little peaceful village when he was just 12 years old.

The chaos would always start the same way: fire spreading through homes, villagers screaming, and cruel laughter of bandits as they destroyed everything. Eliana would always protect the children, using her body to cover theirs, protecting them from whatever might be coming.

But it was never enough.

He could still listen to her cries, watch her get thrown to the ground by the strikes of their weapons. The image of her corpse was seared into his mind.

It was during one such moment of despair that Aurelia's magic first flared up. Not knowing what she did, she fell into a trance-like state. The energy released through her killed the bandits instantly.

But even then, it was too late. Eliana was dead.

When the first regression occurred, Ronan thought that was his chance to change everything. He believed he could save her. He trained harder, planned endlessly, and vowed to outsmart fate.

But no matter what he did, the outcome was always the same.

Desperation made him try everything. He warned the village, begging the elders to prepare. Sometimes he could delay the attack, cornering the bandits later.

Other times, he fought them head-on with everything he had and failed. Each time, he was forced to watch as Eliana died.

He had failed fourteen times.

In the arms of the woman now holding him, the weight of that failure crashed down on his shoulders. He felt drowned in them.

"What am I returning to for now, and do I have no chance at saving her?"

Eliana stroked his back gently while still confused. "It is alright, Ronan; we are in this together, whatever that is troubling you.

"This time will be different," he promised silently. "This time, I'll save you, no matter the cost."

Days passed, the quiet routine almost mocking in its normalcy.

Ronan working in the fields under the hot sun, the orphanage behind him like a fragile haven. 

Faint laughter carried on the breeze, a rare comfort to his restless thoughts. Leo's voice rang out above the others, filling the air with the boy's exuberance.

For just a moment, Ronan allowed himself to enjoy the sound—a fleeting moment of peace.

And then the screams.

Ronan's head jerked up, his heart racing as the piercing cries cut through the air. Dropping the hoe, he sprinted toward the sound, dust kicking up behind him.

What he saw stopped him cold.

An Ursa Malice—a towering, bear-like C-ranked monster—stood just a few feet from Leo. Its glowing red eyes were fixed on the trembling boy, who was frozen in fear.