The air in the Grand Cathedral's infirmary was thick with the scent of moonpetal incense and sanctified linen. Moonlight, filtered through the towering stained-glass depiction of the Goddess of Light, painted the marble floors in hues of sapphire and silver. It was a place of peace, of healing, a sanctuary meant to mend the broken bodies of the kingdom's finest warriors. For Kain, however, it was just another gilded cage where he waited for the inevitable pain to subside before the next, more agonizing battle began.

He sat on the edge of the cot, his bare torso a roadmap of violence. Old scars, white and faded, crisscrossed newer wounds, still raw and angry. Each mark told a story he could never share, a death he had already experienced. This was the curse and the burden of his unique, terrible gift. He was Kain, the kingdom's secret weapon, its greatest and most tragic hero: the Sss Class Revival Hunter. A man who could not truly die, only return to a saved point in time, his mind screaming with the memories of his own demise.

A soft footfall broke his grim reverie. He didn't need to look up to know who it was. The gentle shift in the room's aura, the faint scent of wild roses and divine magic that always clung to her, was as familiar to him as the phantom ache of a thousand fatal wounds. Elara, the Saintess of the Silver Flame, entered the chamber, a porcelain basin of steaming water in her delicate hands.

Her silver hair seemed to capture and hold the moonlight, cascading over her shoulders like a liquid waterfall. Her eyes, the color of a summer sky, were filled with a compassion that both soothed and tormented him. In a dozen timelines, those eyes had watched him die. In three, they had been the last thing he saw before the world ended. This time, he swore, this time would be different.

"You should be lying down, Kain," she chided softly, her voice a melody that vibrated deep in his chest. "The basilisk's venom is subtle. Rest is the only way to ensure it is fully purged."

He grunted, a noncommittal sound. He knew the venom's properties better than the royal alchemists. He had died from it seven times already in previous loops, each time learning a little more about its agonizing progression. "I'm fine," he rasped, his throat still raw.

Elara set the basin down on a small wooden stool and knelt before him. She dipped a clean linen cloth into the warm, herb-infused water. He watched her hands, so slender and graceful, as she wrung out the excess liquid. They were hands made for healing, for creation, for love. His were made for killing, for dying, for clawing his way back from the abyss. He was the Sss Class Revival Hunter, a being defined by death, and she was the avatar of life itself. They were a paradox.

She reached out, her touch hesitant at first, as if asking for permission. He didn't flinch. He never did, not with her. Her cool, damp cloth began to dab at the gash on his ribs, cleaning away the dried blood and grime. A shudder wracked his frame, but it was not from pain. It was from the sheer, overwhelming sensation of her gentle touch. In a life filled with brutal, searing agony, her tenderness was an exquisite torture all its own.

"You are always so reckless," she whispered, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her face was so close he could see the faint dusting of freckles across her nose, count the individual silver lashes that framed her cerulean eyes. "You throw yourself into danger as if your life means nothing."

Oh, if only she knew. His life meant nothing because it was infinite and empty. Only her life, this specific, precious, singular life, meant everything. "It's my job," he said, the words tasting like ash. "To hunt the things that hide in the dark."

"But who hunts the darkness within you?" she countered, her gaze lifting to meet his. It was a direct hit, a strike more precise than any sword thrust. He felt his carefully constructed walls of indifference tremble.

He looked away, his jaw tightening. "There's nothing to hunt. Just a job to be done." The lie felt heavy on his tongue. He was more than a hunter; his very existence as the Sss Class Revival Hunter was a constant battle against the encroaching despair of countless failed futures.

Her hand stilled on his side. She moved the cloth aside, and her bare fingertips traced the edge of a particularly nasty scar on his abdomen, a long, jagged line from a demon lord's claw in a timeline that no longer existed. Her touch was feather-light, yet it sent a jolt of pure fire straight to his core. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"This one," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "It feels old. So much older than any of the others. It holds... such sorrow."

He couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped him. "You can feel the sorrow in my scars now, Saintess?"

"I can feel the sorrow in you," she corrected, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It's a cavern, Kain. An endless, lonely cavern. I wish you would let me bring a little light into it."

That was it. That was the moment his control, honed over centuries of looped time, finally shattered. He had seen empires fall, gods die, and stars go dark, all without breaking. But the genuine, heartfelt plea of this one woman, a woman he had resolved to keep at arm's length to spare himself the agony of her inevitable loss, was his undoing. Before he could think, before he could stop himself, his hand shot out and covered hers, pressing her palm flat against his scarred stomach. Her skin was so soft, so warm. So alive.

"Don't," he choked out, his voice thick with a desperation he despised. "Don't say things like that. You don't know what you're asking for."

"Then tell me," she insisted, her other hand coming up to cup his cheek. Her thumb stroked his jaw, and he found himself leaning into her touch like a starving man offered a feast. "Let me understand. Let me help."

He stared into her eyes, and for the first time, he let her see. He let her see past the stoic warrior, past the kingdom's champion, and into the weary soul of the Sss Class Revival Hunter. He let her see the echoes of a hundred lifetimes of failure, the ghostly faces of friends long dead, the crushing weight of a future only he knew was coming. He said nothing, but his eyes screamed it all.

A single tear traced a path down her cheek. "Oh, Kain," she breathed, her heart breaking for him. And then she leaned in, closing the small distance between them, and pressed her soft, trembling lips to his.

The kiss was not explosive or demanding. It was a prayer. A gentle, hesitant offering that promised solace and acceptance. It was everything he had told himself he could never have. For a moment, he remained frozen, a statue of scarred flesh and broken memories. Then, something deep inside him, a core of humanity he thought long extinguished, roared back to life. He groaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated need, and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her from her kneeling position and onto his lap. The basin of water clattered to the floor, forgotten.

His mouth met hers with a sudden, desperate ferocity. He kissed her not as a hero, but as a condemned man granted a final, perfect reprieve. He poured all the unspoken words, all the secret adoration, all the terror of losing her again into that single, soul-searing kiss. He tasted the salt of her tears and the sweet, honeyed flavor of her lips. Her scent filled his senses, intoxicating him, drowning out the lingering smell of blood and death that usually clung to him.

Her small hands tangled in his dark, shaggy hair, holding him to her as if she feared he might vanish. Her body, clad in the simple white robes of her order, was a warm, soft weight on his lap. He could feel the frantic beating of her heart against his bare chest, a frantic rhythm that matched his own. His hands roamed her back, her waist, her hips, mapping the delicate curves of her form with a reverence usually reserved for holy relics. He needed to touch her, to feel the solid, living proof of her existence in this timeline, in this moment.

He broke the kiss, both of them panting, their foreheads resting against each other. "Elara," he whispered, her name a talisman against the encroaching darkness. It was the first time he had used her name with such raw intimacy, and the sound of it hung in the air between them, shimmering with unspoken promises.

"I'm here," she whispered back, her breath caressing his lips. "I'm not afraid."

Her bravery was a beacon. It gave him the strength to do what he had yearned to do for so many lifetimes. His fingers found the sash of her robes, and with a slight, trembling tug, he loosened the knot. The simple white fabric fell open, revealing the delicate chemise she wore beneath. The moonlight caught the swell of her breasts, barely contained by the thin linen. He lowered his head, his lips tracing a path down the column of her throat, across her collarbone. She gasped, her head falling back, granting him greater access. Her pulse throbbed against his tongue, a vibrant, life-affirming beat.

He worshipped her skin, his mouth and hands memorizing every inch of her. He pushed the fabric of her robes and chemise from her shoulders, baring her to the waist. She was even more beautiful than his dreams had dared to imagine. Her skin was like alabaster in the silver light, her breasts full and round, crowned with pale pink nipples that hardened instantly under his hungry gaze.

"You are... perfect," he breathed, the words torn from the deepest part of his soul. He lowered his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Elara cried out, a sharp, breathless sound of pure pleasure, her fingers tightening in his hair. He suckled gently at first, then more firmly, his tongue laving the sensitive peak as his hand cupped her other breast, his thumb stroking its twin into a state of aching sensitivity.

The pleasure was so intense, so overwhelming, that Elara felt her mind go blank. All her thoughts of duty, of sainthood, of propriety, evaporated like mist in the sun. There was only Kain. There was only this man, whose immense pain she had only just begun to comprehend, and the incredible, soul-shaking pleasure he was giving her. It felt right. It felt... destined. She had spent her life healing others, but in this moment, she felt as though he were the one healing her, awakening a part of her she never knew was dormant.

Kain's hands moved lower, sliding the rest of her robes down her hips until they pooled around them on the cot. She was naked in his lap, vulnerable and completely open to him. He pulled back from her breast, his eyes dark with a passion that made her tremble. He was the Sss Class Revival Hunter, a predator of the highest order, but the way he looked at her was not with a hunter's gaze. It was with the desperate, adoring gaze of a worshipper before his one true goddess.

"Let me love you, Elara," he rasped, his voice raw. "Just for tonight. Let me forget everything but you."

"Not just for tonight, Kain," she replied, her voice shaking with emotion. "Always."

Her answer was the only absolution he needed. He shifted them on the narrow cot, laying her down on the cool sheets and following her, his powerful body covering hers. He braced his weight on his elbows, careful not to crush her. He looked down at her, at the silver hair spread like a halo around her head, at the flush of passion on her cheeks, at the trusting, loving light in her eyes. This was the image he would burn into his memory. This would be the anchor that would pull him through the hell that was to come.

His hand slid down her flat stomach, past her navel, and into the soft curls of silver hair at the juncture of her thighs. She gasped and her hips arched instinctively as his fingers found her. She was slick and hot for him, her body's eager response a potent aphrodisiac. He dipped one finger into her warmth, then two, stroking the slick, velvet walls of her passage. Elara moaned, her eyes fluttering shut as she abandoned herself to the sensations he was creating.

He explored her, learning the rhythm of her pleasure, feeling the way her inner muscles clenched around his fingers. He found the small, sensitive nub hidden within her folds and began to circle it with his thumb. A keening sound escaped her lips, and her back bowed off the cot. She was so responsive, so beautifully, exquisitely alive. The skills of an Sss Class Revival Hunter, honed for combat and survival, were proving surprisingly adept at mapping the terrain of her desire.

While his hand worked its magic below, his mouth returned to hers, swallowing her cries of pleasure. He kissed her deeply, his tongue dancing with hers as he felt her body begin to coil tighter and tighter. He wanted her to come apart for him, to feel a pleasure so absolute that it would erase any doubt, any fear. He wanted to give her a fraction of the light she had so willingly offered him.

She was close, so close. Her breath came in ragged sobs, her hips beginning to move in a desperate, frantic rhythm against his hand. "Kain... please..." she begged, though for what, she wasn't sure. More. She just needed more of him.

He granted her wish. He withdrew his fingers, leaving her feeling bereft and aching, and positioned himself between her thighs. He nudged at her entrance with the swollen, heated tip of his erection. She opened for him without hesitation, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. He looked into her eyes one last time, a silent question passing between them.

She answered by tilting her hips up, meeting him, guiding him. "I'm yours," she whispered.

With a low groan that was equal parts pleasure and relief, he pushed forward, sinking into her. The sensation was cataclysmic. She was so tight, so wet, so incredibly warm. It was a feeling of coming home, a feeling he hadn't known he was missing until this very moment. For Elara, the feeling of him filling her was overwhelming, a perfect, stretching fullness that seemed to touch her very soul. She cried out as he fully seated himself within her, a cry of pleasure, of completion.

He stayed still for a long moment, simply savoring the feeling of being inside her, of being connected to her in the most profound way possible. He could feel her pulse surrounding him, her life force enveloping him. Being the Sss Class Revival Hunter was a lonely existence, a solitary journey through time. But here, with Elara, he was not alone. He was part of something else, something wonderful.

Then, he began to move. Slowly at first, a deliberate, worshipful rhythm. Each thrust was a vow, each retreat a promise. He watched her face, her expression a mixture of ecstasy and love. Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted, and soft moans escaped with every movement he made. He quickened the pace, his control beginning to fray. The friction and the heat were building, coiling in the base of his spine.

His thrusts became harder, faster, more desperate. He was no longer a stoic hunter but a man starved for love, for connection, for this single, perfect moment of release. He drove into her again and again, chasing a bliss that had been denied him for countless lifetimes. The sounds of their bodies meeting, of their ragged breaths and soft cries, filled the hallowed silence of the infirmary, a profane and beautiful symphony.

Elara felt her climax cresting, a massive wave of pleasure building within her. She clung to Kain's broad, powerful shoulders, her nails digging slightly into his scarred skin. "Kain!" she cried out his name as the wave broke, sending shattering, white-hot pulses of ecstasy through every nerve in her body. Her inner walls clenched around him in a powerful, milking rhythm, and that was all it took to send him over the edge.

With a guttural roar, he drove into her one last time, his own release flooding her with his warmth. His mind went white, every memory of death, every moment of pain, every phantom echo of a failed timeline was erased, replaced by the singular, blinding reality of Elara. He collapsed on top of her, his forehead resting in the crook of her neck, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his powerful orgasm.

They lay tangled together for a long time, the moonlight bathing their sweat-slicked bodies in its ethereal glow. The only sound was their breathing, slowly returning to normal. Kain shifted his weight off her, but he didn't pull away. He gathered her into his arms, holding her close to his side, his scarred body curled protectively around her perfect one.

She snuggled against him, her head on his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart. She traced a finger over the scar on his abdomen, the one that held so much sorrow. But now, it felt different. It felt like a part of him she had been allowed to touch, to heal in her own way.

"I love you," she whispered into the quiet room, the words as natural and as necessary as breathing.

Kain's arm tightened around her. He had fought so hard against this, against this feeling, because he knew what it meant. It meant he had something to lose again. Something precious. But as he lay there, with Elara's warmth seeping into his very bones, he knew he was done running. The cycle of death and rebirth had been a meaningless, solitary hell. But now, it had a purpose. Reviving was no longer about just surviving to the next attempt. It was about returning to her. He was the Sss Class Revival Hunter, and he would hunt down a future where she could live, where they could have more nights just like this, no matter how many times he had to die to achieve it.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her silvery hair. "I will always come back for you," he vowed, and for the first time, it didn't feel like a curse. It felt like a promise.