Infinite Regeneration: Crash-Test Dummy Reincarnated as a Human

"Before I accept your challenges...Tell me," I said, voice carrying clear as my grin widened, "What will be the stakes?"

For a moment, the crowd seemed to hold its breath—just long enough for one of the bronze-ranked youths to shout back.

"You will surrender the position of Chieftain's disciple!"

The words ignited the mob. A roar of approval rose, hundreds of feet stamping against the sandstone floor, their chants pounding in unison:

"Step down! Step down! Step down!"

I let them chant. I wanted their noise to burn itself out before I spoke again.

Then I tilted my head, tone deceptively mild.

"Very well," I said. "And what do all of you put on the table?"

The chants died almost immediately.

A ripple of silence spread through the square.

Contemplation followed—confused glances exchanged between the youths, a few hushed whispers. They hadn't expected me to accept. Certainly not this easily.

The short girl with the dual-daggers who had spoken for them before stepped forward.

Her stance was measured, dagger hilts glinting faintly in the light that spilled from the Hall's entrance. "You tell us, Outsider," she said. "We stated your terms. Now you state ours."

I raised a hand to my chin in thought, studying them.

There really is nothing I need from them, is there?

My eyes drifted to Horus, who was busy adjusting the strap on his scabbard and pretending not to notice me staring.

Hmm...Fourteen more slaves to do my bidding wouldn't be too bad, though…

I turned back to the crowd with a grin. "All of you," I said evenly, "will become my loyal slaves… permanently."

The ripple that ran through the crowd was immediate.

Some of the youths drew back, their bravado wilting under the weight of the words. Others barked laughter, thinking I was jesting. Still others looked furious, hands twitching toward their weapons.

But the short girl didn't flinch.

Her jaw tightened; her eyes narrowed.

"This is not a fair exchange of terms, Outsider. We cannot accept such---"

"---not a fair exchange?" I interrupted, voice slicing cleanly through hers.

"You speak of fairness when fourteen of you gang up on one man, when you use the crowd's animosity to try and force me into a corner---all because you all can't stomach that your Chieftain chose to train an outsider instead of any of you?"

I stepped closer, until I stood directly before her. The murmurs around us died.

"There is nothing fair about any of that," I said softly. "But… I am merciful."

Her pupils tightened.

I turned my gaze back to the crowd, raising my voice.

"How about this...since all of you hold such anger because I interrupted your Trial…"

I turned my head, meeting their eyes one by one, letting the silence stretch between each word.

"…why don't we re-enact it? And I'll be your Tremor-Class Beast."

The words hung in the air like oil above a flame.

Then, as if struck by lightning, the square erupted.

Shouts overlapped in disbelief and exhilaration.

Some laughed. Some screamed. Some cursed me outright.

But the loudest stepped forward, one by one, thumping fists to their chests in declaration. Each cut their palm with a blade, the dark blood gleaming as they queued up to offer up their hands.

One by one, we shook. Pact, after pact.

By the time the last youth had stepped forward, the noise had turned into something like reverence—wild, disbelieving, but reverence all the same.

I nodded once. "Good," I said, voice calm again. "The Challenge will be at sunrise, two days from now."

A chorus of nods answered me. Some smiled fiercely. Others muttered prayers.

Then, like a tide finally turning, the clerks of the Hall began ushering them away---voices tight, movements hurried. The noise ebbed, the crowd receding down the sandstone streets until only the whisper of their footsteps remained.

The square felt enormous in the aftermath, the silence ringing loud.

Only Horus and I remained.

I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders as the tension bled out of them. "Well," I said. "That's done."

Horus just blinked at me. "You...you just challenged all of them."

I shrugged. "Efficient."

He stared for another heartbeat, then let out a laugh that sounded more like a strangled cough. "You really have a death wish."

I smiled faintly. "It is who I am."

He opened his mouth to retort, but another voice cut through the empty square.

"You handled that better than I expected."

I turned. Fast.

Intisak stood only a few paces behind me, as though he had been there the entire time. His arms were folded, cloak trailing faintly in the desert breeze. The light caught his silver eyes, turning them into molten mirrors.

I couldn't tell what startled me more---his sudden appearance, or how unsurprised I felt seeing him there.

He tilted his head, gaze sweeping over the black stone streets where the crowd had stood moments ago. His expression was unreadable.

Then, without preamble, he turned. "Come," he said quietly. "We depart now."

"Now?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

He didn't respond.

I sighed, adjusting my grip on the axe. "Of course we do," I muttered, stepping after him.

The last echoes of the crowd's voices faded behind us as we walked through the upper streets. Horus hurried to catch up, that is, until Intisak's head turned slightly.

That single glance stopped the boy cold.

Even from the side, the Chieftain's eyes gleamed like a drawn blade.

"I-It appears," Horus stammered, backpedaling at once, "I've found something urgent to attend to… over at… elsewhere." He nodded quickly—twice, three times—nearly tripping over his own feet as he fled back toward the square of the Fourth Layer.

Intisak said nothing. But I caught the faintest curl of amusement on his lips as he continued forward.

---------------------

We found ourselves back in the Sand Elevators, joining from a different entrance to the one me and Horus had used to get here.

The upper layers of the Shavrak City still hummed with life---the low murmur of conversation, the soft ring of hammers against metal, the distant rush of wind through carved channels---but as we went deeper, those sounds began to fade. Each layer we passed stripped away another layer of warmth, another trace of the city's pulse.

The sand tunnels wound downward like veins, carrying us through the living body of the city itself.

We passed the seventh layer. The ninth layer. The eleventh. The thirteenth.

Each ring was darker than the last, quieter too. The shafts of gold-reflected light that once painted the walls grew weaker until they were little more than embers flickering across stone.

At the fifteenth layer, the sand elevator came to a stop.

The air that greeted us was cool—no, cold.

The kind of cold that came from disuse, from long stretches of emptiness.

The platform settled with a muted hiss. I stepped off, boots sinking slightly into the sand. The air here didn't move at all. Even the faint wind tunnels that kept the city breathing were silent this far down.

But Intisak didn't stop.

He moved forward, his steps measured, the sound of his boots barely disturbing the hush. I followed, the weight of the axe a steady rhythm against my palm.

I had many questions. But a single look at the man before me told me I wouldn't be getting very many answers.

The tunnel before us stretched long and narrow, half-choked with sand. Its mouth looked as though the desert itself had tried to reclaim it. The light from above barely reached this far, painting everything in faint bronze tones.

It was the Artery of the Fifteenth Layer, except...the sand here no longer flowed—it lay still, heavy, like frozen water. Each step sank half an inch before the grains settled again with a soft hiss. The walls were rougher, uneven, unpolished. Gone were the clean geometric carvings that adorned the city above; here the rock was jagged, raw, and forgotten.

We walked in silence.

My breathing echoed faintly in the still air. Even my second mind had gone quiet.

Then, the tunnel opened.

The chamber that spread before us was vast. The ceiling vanished into darkness. And at the center, consuming nearly the entire space, was a pit.

Perfectly circular.

Perfectly still.

Its edge smooth as if carved by something not human.

I stepped closer and peered in. The black was absolute—no depth, no reflection, no bottom. Just darkness that swallowed the light whole.

Intisak stopped at the rim. His hands clasped behind his back, his posture straight, gaze fixed on that endless void. The silence was suffocating. I waited, but he didn't move, didn't even breathe.

Then, finally, his voice came.

Calm. Even.

"Ready yourself."

He stepped forward....and dropped, vanishing into the black.

No hesitation. No sound. One moment he was there; the next, the darkness had taken him.

I stood there for a long moment, staring after him.

The pit devoured even the faint sound of my breathing.

Not an echo returned. Not a whisper.

I exhaled slowly through my nose.

Then I tightened my grip on the axe, let the breath leave me entirely, and stepped forward.

The sand gave way beneath my boots.

The light disappeared.

And the silence swallowed me whole.