Cameraman Never Dies

It was already evening, and Judge was dodging his master's attacks by a hair's breadth like a cat on a slippery floor, each of her swings could rearrange his bones like a furniture in a house renewal montage.

'Man, I am getting good at this!' He thought as he dodged another attack by stepping to the side, but that one was just a feint. He realized it too late as he went flying back like a helicopter with a bad motor, and he hit a conveniently placed haystack (Luckily).

'Thank the gods for soft landings,' he groaned inwardly. didn't I do this yesterday?

Both the wooden sword and her real sword had no more width than a katana, but the swings came in like a bazooka's recoil. Even her figure was thin, does thin equals more strength in this world. Judge silently cursed at whoever did the worldbuilding.

'Is that a sword or a battering ram?' Judge thought as he again set sail across the air, this time hitting hard on a tree, leaving a perfect 1:1 scale ratio silhouette of him on the tree.

"Get up or I will start charging you for the garden repairs," Seraphis called out, leaning forward on her sword which was stabbed on the ground.

"Where is the garden? I don't see one," Judge stood up and looked around, but his view suddenly shifted. He was, yet again, on another air cruise. He wondered if he was still alive, 'I am getting too old for this,' he thought—despite being a literal baby in his new life—as he flew across the grounds and crashed headfirst into his master's house. 'Yep, still alive.'

He landed near the deck where his mother was teaching Selena, her lessons were more of a realxing afternoon tea session, compared to his absolute bone-breaking gladiator match of a lesson.

"Hey, nice ether trick!" he called to Selena, still upside down. "Wanna switch places? You can take a turn being launched into the stratosphere!"

Selena just smiled sweetly, a sparkle of smug satisfaction in her eyes. "Ethercraft is an art, Judge," she said, her tone leaning in that particular way only a sibling can manage, and he never had siblings... except in this life. "It requires a calm and composed mind—something you clearly don't have." Her grin practically screamed pity, but in the most insulting way possible.

did I do this yesterday too? I don't think so. Judge's sense of déjà vu getting stronger.

"Tch," Judge muttered, rolling his eyes and flipping himself upright. "Why did I ever agree to help transform your body anyway?"

He got up, thankfully, his master did not come swinging at him with her wooden sword the moment he got up— oh wait... hold that thought. He kissed the earth goodbye, literally and metaphorically, yet again. 'Is this a sword or a medieval artillery piece?' he mused mid-air

When he finally picked himself up off the ground, ready for the next round of beatings, he noticed something unusual—Seraphis wasn't charging at him with her sword raised.

Instead, she just stood there, scratching her head in a way that said she was thinking, though Judge wasn't sure if that should be more terrifying than the sword. Note to himself, she can think. He felt like he had found a clue to the world's secrets.

"This isn't working out!" she exclaimed, sounding more irritated than anything.

Judge blinked. Was this a joke? "Then why are you trying to kill me?!" he cried out, genuinely confused. There were moments today where he was fairly sure he had seen his life flash before his eyes – several times over.

"You're a dragon," Seraphis said dismissively, as if that explained everything. "You won't die from this — even remotely." she brushed it off as if they were discussing what kind of toys children like.

She tossed her sword into a pile of wood with the casual attitude of someone throwing away a candy wrapper.

She started walking toward her house. "Come on, Judge. Let me teach you my personal principles. You're clearly not ready for what I had planned."

'Wait, teach? Like, with words? Why didn't we start with that instead of the spontaneous air travel sessions?'

Judge frowned, he could feel a strange sense of 'repeating the same day' wash over him. Didn't she say something like this yesterday? No, that couldn't be right— this was their first day of training, wasn't it?

'Maybe it's fatigue,' he thought, brushing it off. But something about it still gnawed at the back of his mind. Maybe he needed a vacation... or at least a soft chair to sit on after this absurd day of being launched across the yard like a human cannonball.

'Note to self,' he thought dryly, 'Invest in body armor. And a better sense of self-preservation.'

———

It was almost evening. "Clara!" A cloaked man hurried through the woods, his desperate steps almost stumbling over roots as he chased after a little girl who was far too agile for her age.

His hand was stretched out, as if in a desperate attempt to catch her, though she was already a good distance ahead of him. "I told you, it'll be the end of us if we go into the forest!"

"You've been acting weird since morning!" Clara shouted back without even turning her head, her small figure dashing through the underbrush like a mouse trying to escape a predator.

"What are you hiding, Percival? I won't listen unless you tell me!" She was throwing a fit, as young children often do, but Percival's face was engraved with fear. He wasn't just afraid of losing sight of her—he was scared of something else.

"I will tell you if you just come back," His voice cracked, getting more desperate and frantic, "Please, Clara, listen to me... Please."

She ignored his pleading, her speed quickening with a determined mind. Soon, they reached the edge of the outer forest. Percival, panting and clearly out of breath, had resorted to begging her to stop, his voice cracking with desperation.

"Miss Mina went inside!" Clara was still not giving up, as if that was all the justification she needed.

Before Percival could catch up or muster a response, it happened.

A terrifying, sudden sight—Clara's head flew into the air, her body crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut.

No scream, no warning, her innocent smile still fixed on her face, as if she hadn't even registered the horror of what had happened, she was still enjoying her chase with Percival. There was no sign of the killer, no trace of who or what had caused it.

Percival froze in his tracks, his mind had already registered what had happened as he let out a scream. "CLARAAAA!" But even before his voice echoed in the woods, his fate was sealed.

His head, too, followed Clara's suit, severed cleanly from his body in an instant. And just like with Clara, there was no visible attacker—just the silence of the forest and the lifeless bodies that lay on the muddy ground.

———

Judge opened his eyes to a familiar evening, he was lying on a patch of grass, it felt familiar— too familiar. His heartbeat quickened as a chilly sense of déjà vu slowly started to creep inside his mind.

But that could not be right, this was his first time here, right? Or maybe he laid here yesterday.

"No..." he muttered, "I was inside that damn egg yesterday." He tried to remember but nothing was off in his memories, he started training with his master today... and was hit in the head.

"Ahh, that might be the reason!" He stood up, he had been knocked unconscious by his tutor "I wish she would just go easier on me," He looked at his master waiting patiently for him.