Witchbound Villain: Infinite Loop

Burn was evil, and he would never deny it. In the previous loops, and even now, instead of opting for diplomatic solutions, he would choose to kill people instead.

It was more effective, even though sometimes it was harder. Well, harder for anyone else except him.

He could, for example, try and probe around for a solution without war or fight. He could use his wealth, connections, and strategies to forge a bloodless path. But simply, the disadvantages of using that path outweighed the benefits.

In any loop, Finn didn’t need to die. It was actually the exact same case as Yvain. And saving Finn in the next loop wouldn’t change Burn as a person.

He had killed Finn every time. It was an unalterable fact, no one could say otherwise.

Even with the loops reset and his crime nullified, it didn’t erase the sin he committed. It didn’t change Burn, or lay a finger on the core of who Burn was as a person.

A tyrant. A murderer. A villain.

So, he killed Finn again today, as usual. Simply because he wanted to humor his last wishes in this loop, and well, let's face it, it was too late in this loop anyway.

This marks the final loop where he killed him.

Burn had one urgent matter at hand: to uncover what had killed him and triggered the next loop. At least for the time being, by eliminating Finn, there would be fewer disruptions in the timeline, and it might shed some light on the issue.

"ATTACK!"

Even before the rest of Finn’s body hit the ground from his steed—before the man’s horse even registered its master's death—Galahad had thrust his sword toward the sky to the east, bellowing his war cry.

Burn stared at his sword, the same sword he used to fight against the White Dwarf. In his previous loops, it crumbled a war after the fight.

He wondered if it would crumble after this war too.

His army surged forward behind him, advancing toward Finn's bewildered and stunned troops.

Burn, for his part, had no intention of letting them escape. Today, he planned to lay them to rest alongside their commander right here on the battlefield. Such an honor should be appreciated by them. Today, not one of them would come home.

Not when their leader couldn't.

Burn urged his horse forward, creating a platform with his Force for the horse to climb into the air. He flicked his sword as he gained altitude, sending attacks towards the enemy's backline.

SLASH—BZZZZZT—HUMMMM—BOOOM!!!

Creating a vacuum through the air, his slashes prevented anyone from escaping. The ground trembled beneath the weight of his power, each strike a symphony of destruction orchestrated with finesse.

BZZZZZZZZT—BOOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Mass destruction chain occurred on the ground, while Galahad led his army to sandwich the enemy between battle and certain death.

After a few minutes, Burn couldn't help but notice his once-mighty sword crumbling in the wind. Perched imperiously on his steed in the sky above the battlefield, he casually glanced towards the east, pondering what new form of peril awaited his illustrious presence.

Would it be a tea party of ruthless enemies or perhaps a delightful stroll through fields of chaos and mayhem? Something certainly killed him.

Amidst the cacophony of heavy machinery bought from those oh-so-trustworthy outsiders, with their shiny new technologies aiming to outsmart both Force and Vision between both parties, Burn simply stood there, the picture of patience as he waited for the chaos to simmer down. 

And lo and behold, as he predicted with the precision of a seer, not a single reinforcement sauntered in even after the dust settled from a battle that saw the Inkia army wiped out a clean 100% and his own Soulnaught boasting a flawless record of zero casualties.

Finn’s troops were truly meant for sacrifice.

After this, Burn needed to head north to deal with Inkia’s retaliation through Wintersin’s army. The upcoming battle posed a significant challenge, as they possessed resources comparable to Soulnaught's and a military might unmatched by any adversary Burn’s army had faced thus far.

As the battle drew to its conclusion, the dusk descended upon the battlefield like a tired actor after a long day's work. The sky painted its usual crimson hue over the charred, blood-soaked earth, as if nature itself was in on the macabre spectacle.

On his loyal stallion, Burn leisurely made his way back to the encampment. The hills welcomed him with a nonchalant grace, as if they had seen one too many war-weary warriors traipsing their worn paths.

The wind, descending from the lofty mountains down to the plain, whispered secrets of battles long fought and fallen heroes forgotten. As he rode, the weight of war slowly lifted from Burn's shoulders, carried away on the gentle breeze like whispers of the fallen.

The sounds of cleanup echoed in the distance, a morbid symphony of burning bodies and grim tasks undertaken in the aftermath of violence. His army, diligent as ever, toiled away to ensure that nothing but bodies remained, a twisted humor in the meticulousness of their post-war rituals.

Overall was a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration that only those familiar with the horrors of war could understand.

As he strolled into the encampment, a figure loomed, poised for his arrival.

"Your Majesty," a female knight stood in his path, bowing with due deference. "Miss Morgan has requested your presence at her tent."

Burn dismounted his horse, arching an eyebrow. "What does she want now?"

"I cannot say, Sir," Landevale replied hesitantly. She neither knew nor cared to delve into Burn's affairs like her counterparts at the Round Table. Or perhaps it was her unconscious avoidance.

Burn was still wearing his armor. Although it was spotless with no drop of blood on it, he still felt rude wearing the garments he wore to massacre into the space of the woman he courted. So he went to his tent and changed clothes before heading to Morgan's.

But when he swaggered into her tent, he was gobsmacked to lay his eyes on not one, but two additional figures lounging about, besides the tent's rightful owner and Yvain, loitering behind her.

Elves.

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If you were to Groundhog Daying, would you kill someone because you know tomorrow will repeat the same day anyway? Me, personally? Maybe. I will spend some repeated days to research where they were exactly at that point in time, and then decide whether to kill them or not.

But the fact that if I did kill them would never change. I will be a murderer even if the day repeated the next day. Well, I don't know how it would feel like after you cross that line yet, but I'm curious.