Loop>Live: Death Loop System In Another World

[Path Ending #1: Lune Ending]

[Rewards: Find It Yourself!]

Huh? Path ending? Was this referring to the path he had chosen? Then, the system chimed again.

[Your Principle has gotten stronger.]

[To become a Tier 2, you must find your own Arc Mode. Follow your philosophy of "Endure or Die."]

What? What are you even talking about? Everything the system displayed was vague and confusing. He didn't know what any of it truly meant.

The message said his Principle had strengthened. So, what exactly did that improve in the Death Loop System?

Then, another message appeared.

[Death Detected. Death Limit: 2 / 8]

[Tip: Don't Die, Bozo!]

Did it just insult me!? Damn this system. But something stood out—his Death Limit had changed. It was now eight.

So that was the reward? The more he followed the core of his Principle, the more the system rewarded him with survival chances?

That was helpful. Still cruel, but helpful.

If that much had changed, then there might be other updates he hadn't seen yet.

He sat up and looked around. From the light outside the window, the warmth of the sheets, and how rested his body felt, he realized something immediately.

This is the day before I died.

Lune had killed everyone—his brothers, the maids, the servants, even Father—and then, he had killed Lucjan too.

That meant today's mission was simple and final. He had to stop the masked man.

Or maybe, the masked man was Lune all along.

Either way, he had to act now. He couldn't afford to die again.

The pain from last time still clung to him like shadow. He could still feel it—the bruising in his stomach, the dull impact behind his skull.

"Argh..." The memory stung. Damn this system…

He clenched his teeth and pulled himself together. I have to save everyone. This time, I will.

He ran to the door, threw it open, and sprinted down the hallway. He didn't slow down.

His legs carried him without hesitation, and his footsteps echoed loudly against the polished marble floor as he rushed across the west wing of the mansion.

The maids turned their heads. The servants blinked in confusion. No one knew what was going on.

"Lord Luc!"

"Lord Lucjan, what happened?!"

They all called to him, but he didn't stop. They were still alive. None of them realized they were going to die tomorrow. He was the only one who remembered.

So, he kept running, moving faster and faster through the corridors, turning corner after corner without a second thought.

He knew how this ended. He had already seen it happen. The entire mansion would be soaked in blood. There would be no survivors.

But this time, he would change that.

If I trigger the path system again… maybe I can create a new branch. Maybe I can find a way to save them all.

He didn't need a miracle. He just needed to make the right decision. And this time, he wouldn't hesitate.

[Main Quest Available]

[Save Everyone In The Wurford Mansion]

[Time Limit: 2 Days]

Alright, Death Loop System... Back then, when he had died the first time, he also received a message about finding the arc mode and the blade.

Then, something inside him clicked. What if the quest was still active, even after death? There was no mention of it failing due to death. The only reason a quest should disappear is if he went past the time limit or failed, right? So it must mean that the quest—to find the arc mode and the blade—was still available.

He didn't even know what he would receive upon completing a quest. The system never told him the rewards ahead of time.

So, he had to complete this one. He had to finish it now.

He ran again. He didn't stop to explain. He didn't stop to think. He turned the corner, his shoes skidding against the polished floor, and finally arrived at the room.

It was his little brother's room—Lune's room. He stopped at the door and slowly placed his hand on the knob. He took a deep breath and exhaled it through his nose.

I need to act calm. Lune… you need someone to praise you, right? Then I'll be that person. I'm not doing this just to prevent the deaths of our family. I'm doing this to save you too. You're my little brother, and I'll protect you.

But just as he opened the door slightly, tears gathered in his eyes. His heart ached. His breath slowed.

He remembered Clementine.

He hadn't worked hard because someone gave him responsibility. He hadn't worked hard because it was the right thing to do.

No, he had done it for her.

He worked every day, late into the night, just to gather the money for her surgery. He studied even when he couldn't keep his eyes open. He endured failures, stress, and exhaustion—not for ambition, but for the chance to save his little sister's life.

He didn't want to be great.

He just wanted her to live.

If I had this ability back on Earth… If the world was going to be destroyed by those aliens… I would've tried again and again, even if it meant dying an infinite number of times. I would've done everything I could—just to save her.

So now… I'll do everything I can to save everyone here. Because this time, I have the chance.

So, he opened the door.

"Lune, good morning. How are you today?"

Lune's room looked almost the same as his, though a bit messier. There were stacks of books scattered around, clothes half-folded, and papers all over the desk.

And there he was—his younger brother—sitting on the bed with a notebook in hand, probably writing or drawing something. His eyes widened the moment he saw Lucjan.

"Big brother? Why are you here? You never visit me this early in the morning. You always go straight to the training grounds and spend the whole day there, right?"

"I felt wrong not visiting you. It didn't sit right with me anymore. That was my mistake."

Lucjan walked over and sat at the edge of the bed. Lune was still staring at him, confused, surprised.

"To be honest, Lune… I treasure you. I haven't told anyone that before, but I treasure you more than anyone else in this family."

Lune flinched as if he had been struck by something unexpected. His cheeks turned red. His fingers tightened around the notebook. He always reacted like this when he was caught off guard. He was shy, quiet, and soft-hearted. That's how Lucjan had always remembered him.

Then, Lune's hands dropped to his lap. His head tilted forward slightly.

"I… I didn't know you felt that way," he whispered. "I thought you were just always busy. Big brother Luventus and Leo are always talking about estate matters. Father's always yelling or gone. And you… you just kept training. I thought maybe I was just being ignored…"

His voice broke.

"I've been so lonely, big brother. The past few weeks… I felt like no one saw me. I stayed in my room because it felt better than pretending to smile out there. I didn't want to be a burden, but it hurt. It really hurt…"

Lucjan didn't wait. He pulled Lune into a tight hug. His arms wrapped firmly around his younger brother's small shoulders, and he held him close.

"You're not a burden, Lune. I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner. I'm sorry I made you feel that way. But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. No matter what happens, I'll be with you."

Lune buried his face into Lucjan's shoulder. His tears soaked through Lucjan's shirt. He didn't say anything else. His body trembled from holding everything in for so long.

Lucjan gently rested his chin on Lune's head and closed his eyes.

This time… I'll save everyone. I'll protect him. I won't let anyone break this family again.

---

By the time the brotherly session ended, both of them were sitting on the floor, eating breakfast in Lune's room while chatting.

Lucjan told old stories—some about silly things from when they were kids, others about strange rumors from books he read—and Lune listened with wide eyes, laughing at the right moments, asking questions with genuine curiosity.

His face lit up, and Lucjan could finally see him smile without hesitation.

For the first time in a while, Lune looked like a kid again.

After they finished eating, Lucjan left his brother's room and returned to his own. He closed the door, sat at his desk, and pulled out a notebook.

His goal had shifted. The mission for today was no longer just to monitor Lune. It was to locate and secure two crucial things: The Arc Mode of Merciless and The Blade of Fiery Rage.

Wait…

He paused, pen hovering over the paper. A thought struck him like lightning.

The Blade of Fiery Rage.

That name—it wasn't just symbolic. Those weren't just random words. They matched exactly with what Lune became in the previous timeline.

Cold, burning with hatred, and utterly without mercy. What if it wasn't just his pain that turned him into that? What if the blade itself corrupted him?

Did Lune kill everyone because of the blade?

That would make sense. If Lune discovered both the blade and the Arc Mode today, then that meant this exact moment—today—was when everything truly began. Today was the turning point. Tomorrow was simply the execution.

So the trigger wasn't just emotional.

Which meant Lucjan had less than a day to stop that from happening.

He gripped his pen tighter and began writing out a plan, this time with clearer purpose.

Find the location of the Arc Mode. Secure the Blade before anyone can.

As soon as he went back to writing, his mind began to race.

Where could the Blade of Fiery Rage be? He had to figure it out fast.

He leaned back in his chair, thinking. The place where he woke up during the last loop—it was dark, covered in cobwebs, abandoned, or at least looked abandoned. The walls were cracked, and the air was dry and heavy.

It has to be there. That's the only lead I've got.

Then, it hit him.

The basement.

That had to be it. The only place that matched the description was the lower part of the mansion—the basement he had never visited before.

There's no time to waste!

He shot up from his chair and dashed out of the room, sprinting through the mansion's corridors.

He knew the basement existed, but it was locked. The only person who had the key was his father, and that meant only one thing—he had to go to his father's office.

But there was no way he could walk in casually. If his father caught him sneaking around, the plan would fall apart. So he had to create a distraction.

Who would help? The answer came instantly.

Lunella. Of course. She'll believe me.

He rushed to find her. She was in the eastern hall, holding a stack of linens, already looking exhausted from her morning duties.

"Aunt Lunella!" he called out. "Can you tell father that the western farms are on fire!? Someone just reached out to me and said the raiders are back!"

She froze. "What!? Wait, where are you going!?"

"To my room!"

He bolted in the opposite direction. Of course, he wasn't heading to his room. That was part of the act.

He ran past a few maids, then slipped into a hallway on the far end of the mansion, doubling back until he reached the shadows near the study.

Now wait...

He stayed hidden, watching carefully. Just a few seconds later, he saw Lunella rush to his father's office. The door creaked open, voices exchanged briefly, and then his father stormed out in a hurry.

Perfect.

Lucjan didn't wait. As soon as the hallway cleared, he darted forward, pushed the door open, and slipped inside.

I did it!

He didn't have much time. The office was a mess—piles of documents, old maps, reports about the estate's land, and political negotiations from the capital. His father was the quiet, reserved type who never spent much time with his sons, but he wasn't heartless. Even after their mother's death, he still gave them everything they needed.

Lucjan rifled through the drawers. Most were filled with ink bottles, loose papers, ledgers, and dull quills—but then, in the bottom-most drawer, his hand stopped.

Two keys.

He didn't know if they were the right ones, but it didn't matter. He grabbed both.

Please, let this work.

He ran and ran. Then, he reached the first floor. Then, lastly, he saw the basement door in front of him. He needed to do this fast. This moment right here, tens of lives would perish if does something wrong. He had the responsibility of saving everyone.

He inserted the first key, it didn't worked.

Please...

Then, he inserted the other one. Then–CLICK

It worked!

Now, his only job is to find the blade or even the arc mode. He locked the door and ran down the stairs. Then, he saw it.

He saw the familiar space. It was filled with old books, scrolls, and even past arc modes that were considered outdated. He had found the place.

This was the place he had woken up to. It felt familiar!

He wasted no time as he ran to the bottom and searched for the Blade of Fiery Rage, and the Arc Mode of Merciless. He threw the keys on the floor and then locked in.

He needed to do this fast.

Fast.

Fast.

Fast...

He had been searching for three hours straight by now. There was no hope. There was nothing!

Could had it been hidden inside a wall? It was possible. But, how could Lune found it?

It was possible he was trying to find the blade or the arc mode for two weeks. No, that wasn't possible. If he did, Lune would've already told that to Lucjan.

So, was it luck? Perchance.

The basement was now on chaos. There was nothing he had found that relate to even those two. He had accomplished nothing.

He ran and ran, his footsteps echoing through the mansion halls. Then, as he reached the first floor, he finally saw it.

The basement door.

It stood in front of him like a checkpoint, holding back the truth behind it. This moment—it was everything. Tens of lives would perish if he did something wrong. The weight of it crushed his chest.

I have to do this right. I can't mess this up. I can't let them die again.

He pulled out the first key and shoved it into the lock. He twisted.

Nothing.

Please…

His fingers trembled as he slid in the second key. Then—

CLICK.

It worked.

Without wasting a second, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He locked it from the inside and dashed down the stairs.

He reached the bottom.

And there it was.

The same room he had woken up in. The space filled with dust, cobwebs, and the scent of rotting paper. Bookshelves lined the walls, each one overflowing with scrolls and old tomes—some describing Arc Modes that were centuries out of date. Broken training dummies stood to the side, and an entire shelf had collapsed into the wall.

This is it. This was where I died. I remember this place.

He ran deeper into the chamber. He threw the keys on the floor and started pulling scrolls off the shelves, digging through every dusty crate and opening every sealed box.

Come on… Blade of Fiery Rage… Arc Mode of Merciless… where are you!?

He had no time. He needed both of them. He needed to stop Lune. He needed to win.

He moved faster. He ripped open scroll canisters, tossed aside old books, and searched every crevice he could find.

Faster. Faster. Faster.

He searched for what felt like hours.

It did. Three hours had passed.

His hands were shaking. His eyes burned. His shirt clung to his body from sweat. The dust coated his arms, his face, his lungs.

Still nothing.

Only broken shelves, useless scrolls, and dust-covered volumes with titles he didn't recognize.

Could it be hidden inside the wall?

He looked around. It was possible. But how would Lune have found it so easily? Did he search for weeks?

No… no. He wouldn't have searched for weeks. That makes no sense. If he had, he would've told me something. He would've dropped a hint.

So maybe it wasn't effort.

Maybe it was luck.

Or maybe…

Maybe something—or someone—showed Lune where to look.

The thought made his chest tighten.

The basement was chaos now. Piles of books lay scattered on the floor. Boxes were torn open. Furniture was overturned.

And he had nothing.

He had accomplished nothing.

"I–I can—"

Before Lucjan could say anything else, a voice interrupted him.

"Lucjan."

The voice was low but filled with anger. The footsteps on the stairs came down slowly, deliberately. Lucjan tensed up, knowing who it was. He didn't need to look up to know that his father was descending the stairs.

Lowe Wurford. His father's presence loomed over him, and even before he saw him, Lucjan knew the disappointment was already there.

He stopped a few steps above him, his arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes sharp.

"You brat, what the hell do you think you're doing? Breaking into my office? Sneaking around in my basement like a criminal?" Lowe's voice was a mixture of fury and disbelief. "What did you think was going to happen? You think this is how you fix things?"

Lucjan clenched his jaw but didn't back down.

"I can't tell you, father."

"You can," Lowe insisted, his voice rising. "You will tell me! I raised you! You're supposed to be someone the Wurford name can be proud of. Not someone who sneaks around behind my back!"

Lucjan stared at the floor. He could feel his father's eyes on him.

"I raised you to be better than this, Lucjan. When your mother passed, I promised her I would make you strong. I promised her you'd be someone who could stand tall. But now? You're just a shadow. What happened to the son I raised?"

The words hit harder than Lucjan expected, but he didn't flinch.

"You've been avoiding everyone. Locking yourself away in that room. Pretending to train, pretending to be useful. And now this." Lowe's voice cracked. "What happened to you? After that princess defeated you in the duel, you've changed. You've been lost ever since."

Lucjan's chest tightened, and he took a deep breath before speaking. His voice came out shaky but steady.

"Father…" Lucjan's voice cracked, "What if I told you... I'm tired? Not the kind of tired where I just need to rest. I mean, I'm tired of everything."

His father looked at him, confused, and something else—maybe fear. But Lucjan didn't stop.

"I'm tired of living this way, tired of pretending like everything's fine when it isn't. Every day feels like I'm dragging myself through the motions, but I'm not really alive. I'm just... going through it."

Lowe's anger faltered for a moment, and Lucjan pushed forward.

"Do you have any idea what that's like, father? To have everything around you moving, but you feel like you're standing still? That's what it feels like. Like I'm invisible. Like I'm suffocating, but no one even notices."

Lowe's face hardened again, but Lucjan didn't stop.

"I'm not changing because of some princess. I'm changing because I realized that if I don't do something, if I don't take control, I won't have anything left. And I won't have anyone."

The silence between them stretched.

Then, Lowe's voice softened, but it was filled with regret.

"I didn't know. I didn't know you were feeling this way." His voice shook, the anger now gone, replaced by something much more vulnerable. "Lucjan, I'm sorry. I've been so caught up with everything—my duties, the estate, the family. I... I thought I was doing what was best for you."

Lucjan shook his head. "I needed you to be there. Not just as the head of the house. I needed you to be there as my father. Not as someone who just expects me to be perfect, but as someone who cares."

Lowe's eyes softened, and he looked away.

"I wasn't there when you needed me most. I see that now."

Lucjan took a step forward. "You didn't fail me, father. But I can't keep pretending. We can't keep pretending everything's fine when it isn't. You've taught me to be strong, but strength isn't just about holding everything in."

Lowe stood still, processing what Lucjan had said. His son was standing before him, not as a noble, not as an heir, but as a man who had finally spoken his truth.

"I didn't know," Lowe repeated.

Lucjan reached out, touching his father's shoulder. "It's okay. But now, we need to figure out what's coming next. I'm not going to do this alone."

Lowe looked up at him, his expression uncertain. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"I'll help. We'll figure this out."

Lucjan felt a weight lift off his chest as his father said those words. It wasn't a perfect reconciliation, but it was a start.

The reason he expressed himself wasn't because that's how he felt, but because that's how the real Lucjan Wurford would've felt anyway.

The loneliness inside wasn't his own. It was Lucjan Wurford's. That cold emptiness didn't belong to Lucian Wrenford, not entirely. It belonged to the boy whose body he now controlled.

The prodigy who never said a word but always did what was expected. Someone who never asked for praise and received a lot. That was Lucjan Wurford's legacy.

Now, both of them—Lucjan and his father, Lowe Wurford—sat on old wooden chairs in the basement, surrounded by dust, shelves, and the quiet weight of silence.

Lucjan explained everything. He said there was a masked man hunting the family's heirlooms—The Blade of Fiery Rage and the Arc Mode of Merciless. He claimed he was blackmailed. That was the lie he came up with.

His father didn't speak at first. He only listened with a sharp stare.

"So, that masked man is hunting Wurford's important artifacts?" Lowe finally said. "Well, let me tell you something. Both of those belonged to my grandfather. He reached the level of a Transcendent with them, but he never managed to go further."

Transcendent? That word wasn't familiar to Lucjan. Not even in the memories of this body. He searched his mind, but found nothing.

"I can't recall the exact spot," Lowe continued. "But I think it's somewhere along that wall." He raised a finger and pointed to a far corner. "It's not that exact spot, but near there."

Lucjan stood and nodded. "Thank you, Father."

He walked across the basement, toward the wall. It was cracked in places and smelled of old stone and mildew. Cobwebs stretched between the shelves, and moss crept along the bricks. It didn't look like much, but something about it felt right.

This is it. If he found the blade and the arc mode, he could stop everything. Lune wouldn't kill anyone. The entire Wurford family would survive.

He raised his hand toward the wall.

Then—

BANG.

A sharp pain exploded at the back of his head. His vision spun. His legs gave out.

He collapsed.

The world dimmed, and through his blurred eyes, he saw a shape above him. A figure standing over his body.

It was Lowe Wurford.

His father.