Giant Ice monsters at the end of the world!

I snapped awake standing at the place I arrived at the earliest possible time.

I still couldn't go back to before I arrived, so that might be a problem.

There's not enough time to train at all.

At least I was wearing my new armor, with my new sword at my hip.

Seriously though, what the fuck was that?!

The last thing I remembered was the library freezing over, my body shutting down.

I'm pretty sure the whole city turned into an ice-ball by the time I was dead just by the speed the enchantment died and the literal instant flash-freezing that happened to me!

How? 

Why?

What caused the city to turn into the personification of old man winter?!

I seriously need to know or I'm just gonna die at the end of every day again like before!

Then it hit me.

The enchantments on my armor increase learning speed!

A crazy, desperate hope bloomed in my chest. 

If I could turn my learning even faster, even a little, it would be a game-changer. 

But first, I felt like I could gain a bit more strength, my pathways were full and I might be able to get to Houtian level two.

Ignoring the curious glances from the people on the street, I settled into a meditative posture, closing my eyes.

I focused on the familiar pathways of the Time-Space Divine Death Law, I recalled the sensation of chi entering my body, the controlled influx of strength spreading through my body and refining it. This time, I would be more careful, more precise.

I visualized a needle of chi at the tip of the next meridian where my energy flowed full.

Sweat beaded on my forehead as I concentrated, The correct flow snapped into place.

I slammed through it and broke through.

I think I can still breakthrough again, but I also feel like it would be a bad idea.

I arrived at Houtian level two, so at least here's that..

I feel twice as strong now.

I stood up and I looked around. 

I was standing on the street where the guard saved the child.

However, It seems it took longer than I thought.

It was 4 PM and the sun was on its way to start setting.

I frowned and decided to go back to the library and steal all the potion books

Then, on the next loop, it's time for a training montage.

I had my 40 gold back now, so I might as well buy something from a magic shop for better training speed.

I went to a shop that sold enchantments, already enchanted gear, and the upgrading of oId gear.

At this point, after training in my world, yes I was durable and strong, but 2 of 9 Houtian ranks made me barely above twice the strength of peak human- but speed I had learned was a lot slower to enhance than brute force.

It wasn't enough.

I went to a shop that sold enchantments, already enchanted gear, and the upgrading of oId gear.

4:25 PM Noble shopping district. Luginica.

The store was open, so I moved towards the magic item, enchantment, and jewelry shop.

I opened the door, and I heard a male voice, "One moment."

Emerging from a back room, a man appeared, his frown was irritated and as bright as the Irritated look on his face. 

He was dressed in flowing robes of a style I didn't recognize, adorned with a few gems on the shoulders.

"Welcome," he greeted, his eyes twinkling with irritation and seemingly wanting to burn me in a magical fire. "I am Shanu of house Danu, purveyor of fine wares and curiosities from across the world. How may I assist you today?" all of which he said with the most irritated tone he could manage.

I was a bit weirded out but he seemed to be the real deal. "I'm looking for something to enhance my training," I stated, getting straight to the point. "Jewelry, perhaps, enchanted for increased learning speed and skill training as well as strength gain."

Shanu's eyes widened for a moment and then his scowl turned into a pleased smirk. "Ah, a seeker of knowledge and self-improvement. A worthy pursuit and one I approve of. I am very glad I had not received a moron who wants boots that make them kick harder." He scoffed in derision and shook his head. "Come, let me show you what I have."

He led me through the shop, which seemed to expand and twist for a moment. We arrived at a door that glowed with runes. He waved his hand and it creaked open, revealing a workshop behind.

"So, why are we not looking at equipment, but a workshop?"

He grinned at me when I asked. "You see, you already have a hood that increases learning and training speed, I can see the old blacksmith's work, he's good but sometimes you need more. More items, however, are not always the answer, sometimes better enchantments on a single item are better. I believe this is the case right now."

I nodded, seeing the logic.

My current attire, when worn together, tripled my learning speed for combat skills and other physical disciplines as well as learning speed and I only spent 32 gold on them.

"So you want something to enhance your training, do you?" Shanu echoed, his tone less irritated now, replaced by a thoughtful frown. He stroked his chin, the gems on his robes glinting in the dim light of the workshop. "The hood you wear is of decent make, sturdy. It wouldn't take well to a large addition, but…" his eyes gleamed, "I could enhance the existing enchantments to their pinnacle. Ninefold increase to all mind-related training, a feat I could be proud of." His gaze sharpened. "Of course, such an enchantment would require significant resources, 48 gold at a minimum."

"Thirty six." I countered, meeting his gaze.

Shanu snorted. "Thirty six gold wouldn't even cover half the materials, let alone my time and expertise! Forty two!"

I tilted my head. "I don't actually believe that. 38."

"Preposterous! 41 is as low as I will go!"

I shrugged. "Forty gold for the enchantment as you described, or I will find someone else who understands the value of a good investment."

He scowled, but then a grudging respect flickered in his eyes. "You drive a hard bargain. Forty gold it is, but come back when you have deeper pockets and desire even greater heights of learning, I would be interested in seeing how far we can push the limits of your new acquisition."

I passed him the coins, a small price to pay for the edge it would give me. Once the enchantment was complete, the runes on the hood practically hummed with the feeling of knowledge learned. 

I could practically feel the knowledge practically ramming its way into my skull even though I wasn't currently studying. Nine times was good, but it wasn't enough to save anyone, not yet, but it was a start.

Leaving Shanu's shop, I headed straight for the library. I had less than an hour and a half until that wave of freezing death washed over the city, less than I wanted, but surely enough.

I would need to be in position. 

No time to waste. 

Each death andrewind brought me a little closer to understanding, to surviving past this day. 

The library's doors creaked open, revealing a trove of knowledge that might as well have been guarded by a hundred dragons for all the good it would do these people. I had thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to steal the future, or at least a fighting chance at one.

"Hey, you can't just –" The librarian's protest died as I barreled past him, a one-man stampede toward the professional section. No time for niceties.

Books flew off shelves, their spines cracking under my grip as I filled my storage. It was a blur of titles - "Advanced Principles of Potion Synthesis," "Herbal Compendium of the Northern Territories," "A Treatise on Mana Infused Elixirs" – each one a potential weapon against the inevitable.

I slammed into the first shelf, arms working like pistons, shoving books into the storage space until it felt like my arms would burst. Three hundred. At least three hundred. Then I could be selective.

"Someone stop him!"

Fools. I was already dead and so were they. They were just delaying the inevitable.

I spun, a wall of books held before me as a makeshift shield as a guard's sword glanced off the cover of "One Thousand and One Uses for Glowing Fungus." Useless knowledge now, maybe life-saving later.

The guard stumbled, surprise momentarily eclipsing his training.

My elbow slammed into his jaw. The sickening crunch of bone on bone echoed through the library. He crumpled, a look of blank shock etched on his face.

I shoved the book into my armor and then darted towards another shelf.

Panic. Screams. The scent of fear, thick and cloying. It meant nothing. The ice didn't care. 

A blur of motion, my body already reacting before my conscious mind could catch up. 

Another guard, sword arcing down, met with a wall of bound leather and parchment.

I twisted, ramming my shoulder into his gut, feeling the air leave his lungs in a rush. 

He hit the floor with a thud. I was already moving, snatching a thick volume on rare reagents from the shelf beside his sprawled form. 

My movements flowed, fluid and sharp, each strike honed by a thousand deaths and rebirths. The world seemed to slow, the panicked scramble of the other patrons a distorted waltz, the guards' attacks clumsy and telegraphed. 

A glint of steel. Too slow. I parried, the impact vibrating up my arm, and twisted my stolen sword. Blood, a spray of crimson against yellowed pages. 

The air grew colder. 

Not yet. 

Not enough time.

"For the love of- get him!"

A roar, more felt than heard. 

I ducked beneath a wild swing, my fist connecting with a ribcage.

Another sickening crunch. Another body on the floor.

But the cold was a living thing now, snaking across the floor, creeping up my legs.

My fingers closed around a heavy tome, its cover cold beneath my fingertips. 

Potion making for the genius inventor: A Masterclass. 

This one might hold the answers I needed.

The world dissolved into a blinding white agony as the cold slammed into me, not a gentle caress this time, but a crushing, obliterating wave. It felt like every cell in my body was exploding as my armor's protections failed much faster than last time, shattering under the impossible pressure. I didn't scream. I didn't have time. Then, nothing.

I guess being near a window was a bad idea if I wanted more time.

—

The moment between moments occurred and I noticed the cord that represented my ability to turn back time had extended.

I pulled it back as far as I could, feeling my chi drain. It hit the body of my reserves and then all of a sudden-

–

 I was standing at the street where I arrived, the pre-dawn light illuminating the street.

5 AM this time. I had thirteen hours and thirty minutes instead of just ten hours now.

This would certainly help.

—

The sun was already beginning to crest over the rooftops as I made my way to the Knight Academy, the echo of my last death still lingering at the edges of my mind. Thirteen hours. It felt like a lifetime, and no time at all.

Eight gold coins bought me another grueling session with the same gruff instructor from before. He didn't bat an eye at my reappearance, his memory, like everyone else's in this time loop, reset.

"Alright, show me what you got," he grunted, his face a mask of professional indifference as he tossed me a practice sword.

It felt different this time. Lighter, somehow. More balanced.

I fell into a basic stance, the movements coming back to me with a speed that surprised even myself. Each parry, each thrust, was precise, controlled, infused with an instinctive understanding of angles and force that I hadn't possessed on the first loop.

It had been over a hundred loops since then.

Training with the knights training technique and trying to integrate HEMA too.

I even extrapolated some moves.

Merging HEMA with the knight training technique seemed pretty like a pretty good idea.

The instructor's eyebrows rose as I seamlessly transitioned from one stance to another, my movements a blur of controlled aggression.

"Where in the hells did you learn to move like that?" he barked, a flicker of genuine surprise breaking through his usual gruff demeanor.

I finished the sequence, lowering the practice sword, a thin sheen of sweat on my brow. "Diligent practice," I said simply.

The instructor snorted. "Diligence? Those are advanced-level movements, boy. I've trained knights for twenty years, and I've never seen anyone pick it up without ever being taught." His eyes narrowed, suspicion replacing surprise. "Who are you? Which country? Your looks mark you as Kararagi."

I kept my expression neutral and shook my head. "I'm a student, as agreed."

"A student?" He spat on the ground. "You're no student! You're a Kararagi spy, sent here to steal our secrets!"

Before I could even respond, the other trainees were circling, their wooden practice swords no longer tools for learning, but weapons replaced with metal aimed at my heart. 

The instructor drew his own blade, the metal gleaming dangerously in the morning light.

"Hold him! A messenger's already been sent for the Knights!"

A cold smile touched my lips. So be it. Their deaths were meaningless, but I wouldn't go down without a fight. Not this time.

I moved like a phantom, my enhanced speed turning the trainees' clumsy attacks into a sluggish dance. One moment I was surrounded, the next I was behind them, a trail of fallen bodies marking my path. They never even saw it coming.

The instructor, however, was a different story. Years of experience had honed his instincts into a razor's edge. He met my attack with a clang of steel, his face a mask of grim determination.

"You fight like a demon," he growled, his voice tight with exertion as we locked blades. "But even demons bleed."

We exchanged blows, the air filled with the ringing of steel. 

Each parry, each thrust, was a test of strength and will.

He was good, I'd give him that, but he was fighting the inevitable. 

Fighting a ghost who had died a thousand deaths and learned from each one.

I felt the shift in his stance, the telltale sign of a tired warrior about to overcommit. He lunged, a roar escaping his lips as he put his full weight behind the blow.

I didn't meet force with force. I slipped to the side, my borrowed blade flashing out, a whisper of steel against flesh.

The instructor stumbled, his eyes widening in disbelief as a crimson stain blossomed on his chest. 

He crumpled to the ground, his sword clattering uselessly onto the stone.

Silence descended upon the training yard. 

I turned, my gaze sweeping over the shocked faces of the remaining trainees. One of them, a young man with wide, terrified eyes, was clutching a crumpled message in his hand.

"Too slow," a voice echoed behind me.

I turned, my hand instinctively reaching for the sword that was no longer there. 

A figure stood in the archway, his purple hair gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the open courtyard. 

He held a sword casually in one hand, its tip resting on the ground, his expression unreadable.

"Julius Juukulius," the man said, his voice calm, almost bored. "House head of the Noble house of Juukulius. I just thought you should know the name of the man who killed you."

My vision split down the middle, a searing pain exploding behind my eyes as his blade moved in a way I couldn't see. I didn't even know when he drew his blade!

Then, darkness.

—

5:00 AM. The empty street. The familiar weight of the sword at my hip.

I guess from now on, the mercenary guild it is, then.

—

The mercenary guild could wait. 

Strength was useless if I couldn't survive long enough to use it. 

My gut told me potions were the key.

Finding a decent potion shop, however, proved more challenging than I expected. The few apothecaries I stumbled across in the market district were stocked with what amounted to glorified health tonics and hangover cures – hardly the arsenal I needed to combat a city-sized ice spell.

Finally, after nearly an hour of searching, I found it: a narrow, unassuming shop tucked away on a side street, its sign barely more than a faded inscription on a weathered plank: Elixir Emporium: Remedies for the Discerning Eye.

It reeked of potent herbs, strange animal musk, and the faintest hint of magic.

promising.

The interior was dimly lit, crammed with shelves overflowing with jars, vials, and oddly shaped containers.

Behind a counter piled high with scrolls and ledgers sat an old man, his face a roadmap of wrinkles and wisdom, his eyes half-closed as if in deep meditation.

I cleared my throat. "Greetings," I said, my voice echoing slightly in the stillness of the shop. "I'm seeking-"

The old man didn't move, didn't even acknowledge my presence.

"I'm looking for potent reagents," I continued, raising my voice slightly. "Ingredients for advanced applications."

Still nothing.

I frowned. Was he deaf? Or simply ignoring me?

Deciding to take a more direct approach, I approached the counter and placed a gold coin on the worn wood.

"Tell me," I said, leaning closer, "what would one use to brew a potion of, say, extreme cold resilience? Or perhaps a tonic for enhanced regeneration?"

The old man finally opened his eyes, fixing me with a gaze that was both unsettlingly sharp and strangely vacant. 

For a moment, I had the feeling I was staring not at a man, but at some ancient, uncaring entity.

Then, just as quickly, his eyes drifted shut again, his breathing slow and even. 

He didn't say a word.

I resisted the urge to slam my fist on the counter. This was getting me nowhere. If the old codger wouldn't talk, I'd have to rely on my own intuition and a hefty dose of blind luck.

I spent the next hour scouring the shop, my eyes scanning labels, my fingers tracing the outlines of jars and vials. Dried herbs that smelled of both life and decay. Crystalline shards that pulsed with a faint internal light. Vials filled with viscous liquids that shimmered with otherworldly colors.

My storage filled rapidly, a chaotic collection of anything that looked even remotely promising. By the time I was finished, I had spent twenty-seven gold, a bit more than half my stash.

The shopkeeper hadn't moved a muscle, hadn't uttered a single word.

As I hefted the last pouch onto the counter, I couldn't resist one final, impulsive question.

"Say, old timer," I said, my voice casual. "Ever work with dragon parts?"

The old man froze. 

The air in the shop seemed to crackle, the silence suddenly thick with unspoken weight.

Then, a low chuckle that quickly escalated into a wheezing laugh that seemed to shake the old man to his core. 

He finally straightened, wiping tears from his eyes, his gaze suddenly sharp and piercing, burning with a cold fire.

"Dragon parts?" he rasped, his voice hoarse with a lifetime of whispered incantations. He slammed a gnarled hand on the counter, making me jump. "Dragons are sacred! To think of them as mere ingredients. You defile my shop with such a question!"

He glared at me, his face a mask of disgust and something approaching a holy fury. "Get out," he spat, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't you ever come back. You speak with the tongue of a barbarian, blind to the world. I would sooner see my shop burn and mabeast parts be served as food in every tavern than have your kind darken my door again."

A chill went down my spine, a shiver that had nothing to do with the approaching ice age and everything to do with the sheer venom in his voice. 

Relief warred with a strange sense of shame as I backed out of the shop. 

On the one hand, making an enemy of a potentially powerful potion maker was probably unwise. 

On the other, my little reset of death button meant his outrage was meaningless.

Still, as I hurried away, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had stumbled into something ancient.

The door slammed behind me.

I felt a chill go down my spine as I felt eyes on my back.

They were hot and angry.

The sacredness of dragons in this world was clearly not something to be trifled with and now that I knew that I would never mention that again.

—

With a small fortune in potion ingredients and a head buzzing with possibilities, I made my way to the most extravagant inn I could find. It wouldn't do to be caught out in the open when the clock struck ice.

"The finest suite you have," I told the wide-eyed innkeeper, tossing a gold coin onto the counter. "And hold the courtesans. I have business to attend to."

The luxury of the suite was wasted on me. Plush carpets, a canopied bed draped in silks, a balcony overlooking the bustling city – all meaningless in the face of impending doom. But it was a sanctuary, a quiet space to delve into the mountain of knowledge I had acquired.

Time, for once, was on my side. Well, not exactly on my side, but at least a less immediate threat than that bone-chilling wave. I spread the books out on the table, their pages filled with arcane symbols, intricate diagrams, and cryptic instructions.

The hood hummed with power as I devoured each word, each concept imprinting itself on my mind with an almost painful clarity. Hours melted away as I immersed myself in the world of potion making.

I learned of the delicate balance of elements, the potent properties of herbs and minerals, the intricate dance of mana and intention that could transform raw ingredients into powerful elixirs.

Most importantly, I learned that the line between life and death, between healing and destruction, was often razor-thin, a delicate equilibrium that could be tipped with a single misplaced ingredient, a wavering focus, a breath taken at the wrong moment.

It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

By the time the clock chimed six, my head throbbed with newfound knowledge. Sweat stained the pages of my notes, my fingers were stained with ink and alchemical residue, and a sense of grim satisfaction filled my chest.

I hadn't found the answer to the city-wide freeze, not yet. But I had found something else. Something that might just give me the edge I needed to survive long enough to find it.

With thirty minutes to spare, I gathered the necessary ingredients, my hands moving with a practiced grace that belied the hours I had spent hunched over ancient texts. A mortar and pestle appeared from my storage, along with a collection of vials and beakers. The room filled with the pungent aroma of crushed herbs, the air crackling with a faint, almost imperceptible energy.

Focus. Precision. Every movement, every breath, was vital.

The potion, when it was finally ready, shimmered in the fading light, a deep emerald green that pulsed with an inner light. It smelled of wintergreen, frost, and something else, something ancient and powerful that sent a shiver down my spine.

A potion of cold resistance. It wouldn't stop the wave, not on its own. 

But it might just buy me a few precious seconds. 

A few more heartbeats to understand, to react.

I downed the potion in a single gulp, the liquid cold fire as it slid down my throat. 

A tingling sensation spread through my limbs, and the air around me seemed to crackle with a strange energy.

6:29 PM. Time to see what causes this.

I stepped out onto the balcony, my gaze drawn to the slums, a tangled web of poverty and despair that sprawled beneath the looming shadow of the city.

The air grew colder. 

A stillness fell over the city, a hush that seemed to amplify the frantic beating of my own heart.

Then, from the heart of the slums, it rose.

A massive, leonine creature, its fur as white as snow, its eyes two burning coals of rage. It dwarfed the surrounding buildings, its very presence radiating a power that seemed to suck the air from my lungs.

A mabeast? 

The old man said something like that.

Its eyes are a blank mask of rage.

If I fought that I would die.

If I ran I would die.

If I stayed still I would die.

I was nothing.

I didn't stand a fucking chance in hell.

The world froze, every detail etched in my mind with horrifying clarity: the way the light glinted off its razor-sharp claws, the raw, primal fury in its gaze, the way the air itself seemed to crack and groan around its massive form.

I had two additional minutes from the potion. Two minutes until the cold claimed me, until my bones shattered and my flesh turned to ice.

Two minutes of utter, helpless terror.

It didn't matter. 

There was no fighting that.

I needed to prevent this. 

Not fight it after it happened.

—-

I opened my eyes.