Chapter3

Dawn of the third day.

I stood atop the manor, eyes fixed on the distant horizon. If the past three lifetimes were any indication, the Great Mana Explosion would detonate precisely at noon.

Elia was still furious. She hadn't spoken a single word to me all morning.

"William." Father walked up beside me. "You've been on edge lately. Is something wrong?"

"Something massive is happening today," I said, never breaking my gaze from the distance. "A catastrophe is coming."

"What catastrophe?"

I didn't answer.

At the stroke of noon, the sky abruptly blackened.

A colossal explosion ripped through the distance, followed by a deafening roar. The ground violently convulsed, mimicking a massive earthquake.

"What is that?" Father stared at the sky in sheer terror.

A gigantic rift tore across the horizon. Purple magical energy cascaded down like a waterfall. It was pure necromantic energy—lethal to any living thing it touched.

The Great Mana Explosion had begun.

"Everyone, to the cellar!" I roared. "Move!"

Servants scattered in blind panic. The butler half-dragged my father toward the underground shelter.

Only Elia stood frozen, staring at me in absolute shock.

"William... you knew this was going to happen, didn't you?"

"Now is not the time." I grabbed her hand. "We need to go, now—"

"No!" She violently yanked her hand away. "You owe me the truth! How did you know about this disaster? Why do you know magic? And why is your hand rotting?!"

The purple storm of magic was hurtling directly toward us.

There was no time to explain.

I sprinted into the cellar and slammed both hands onto the ancient runic circle. Golden healing magic and purple necromancy surged simultaneously. The two opposing forces fused, instantly activating the Black family's millennial warding matrix.

A massive dome of light erupted, encapsulating the entire manor.

The magical storm slammed into the shield with a world-shattering boom, but it held.

We were safe.

"Impossible..." Elia's eyes went wide. "How did you activate the ward? That requires immense magical power, and..."

"And it requires mastering both life and death magic." I turned around. The rotting gray blotches on my left hand pulsed vividly from the magical exertion. "Now you know."

Elia's face drained of color. "William, who are you, really?"

"I am your husband." I stepped toward her. "Nothing else matters."

"Doesn't matter?" She backed away. "You hid a secret this massive, and now you tell me it doesn't matter?"

"Elia, I did this to protect you."

"Protect me?" Her voice trembled. "What do you take me for? A child who needs coddling? I am your wife! I have the right to know the truth!"

I desperately wanted to explain, but the curse flared up again. Every time I tried to speak the truth about the prophecy and the scrolls, the suffocating grip of death choked my throat.

"There are some things..." I forced the words out, "you truly don't need to know."

Slap!

Elia struck me hard across the face.

"William Black, you bastard!" she sobbed. "Three years! For three years I thought we were the closest of partners, but you've been lying to me the whole time! You never trusted me!"

"Elia—"

"Don't touch me!" She shoved my hand away. "Just looking at you makes me sick!"

She turned and fled the cellar.

I tried to chase her, but agonizing pain tore through my body. The backlash of dual-casting was worsening. My left arm was almost completely necrotic, while my right arm was entirely numb from overdrawing healing magic.

I collapsed to the floor, watching her silhouette disappear.

Just like the last three times.

Once again, we were spiraling toward separation.

After bolting from the manor, Elia wandered aimlessly through a wilderness cloaked in eerie purple light.

The sky was bleeding. It was the only description she could fathom. The violet energy pouring from the rift washed over the earth like a deluge, withering flora and shattering the ground wherever it touched. Distant screams and the crashing of collapsing houses echoed around her. People wept, people cursed, but most voices were simply swallowed by the howling magic.

Exhausted, she collapsed beneath a dead oak tree, burying her face in her knees.

The way William looked at her this morning—she couldn't mistake it. There was no anger, no impatience, only a profound, helpless exhaustion. But why? Why would he rather bear that look than tell her the truth?

"You must be very confused."

A voice drifted from behind her. Elia whipped her head around.

A man in a black robe stood atop nearby ruins, a sorrowful smile painting his pale face. He didn't look like a survivor of the disaster; he looked like he was born from it.

"Who are you?"

"Victor Klaus." He offered a slight bow. "Someone who, much like your husband, understands magic."

Elia backed away warily. "William said he knows you."

"Of course he does." Victor's voice was soft, yet pierced through the chaos with unnatural clarity. "He used my scroll. He stole power that was never meant for him."

"Scroll?"

"Did your husband not tell you?" Victor drew a parchment from his robes. Black and purple light swirled across its surface. "The Twin Scrolls. He used one of them to gain power, but in doing so, he contracted the curse. You saw the gray rot on his hand, didn't you?"

Elia's heart plummeted. "That's a curse?"

"The backlash of necromancy." Victor took a few steps forward, his voice dripping with pity. "He will slowly rot, from skin to bone, from flesh to soul. And you, as the one closest to him, will inevitably be dragged down by that very curse."

"No... William would never hurt me."

"Of course he wouldn't." Victor smiled bitterly. "He loves you. And because he loves you, he didn't dare tell you the truth. He thought bearing it alone would protect you, but curses... they only dig deeper the more you hide them."

Tears spilled over Elia's cheeks. "Can you save him?"

"I can." A fleeting glint flashed in Victor's eyes. "But I need your help. Your constitution is unique—haven't you noticed? You never get sick. You have a natural immunity to toxins. You can learn healing magic. You can use pure energy to neutralize the necrotic corruption."

Elia stared at the scroll in Victor's hand, then gazed back toward the storm-engulfed manor in the distance.

William was in there, standing all alone, like a guilty child too afraid to look her in the eye.

But why? Why didn't he believe she could handle it? Why would he rather rot in isolation than hold her hand?

"Take me with you," Elia heard her own voice say. "Teach me magic. I have to save him."

Victor's smile widened. "A wise choice. But Elia, steel yourself—studying the arcane arts of death will alter your physical appearance. Are you willing?"

"If it saves William, I will do anything."

Victor extended his hand.

Elia took it.

What she didn't know was that the moment she turned away, Victor glanced back at the Black Manor, a genuine, sinister grin curling on his lips.

---

Three days later, the magical storm temporarily subsided. I dragged my battered, weakened body out of the manor.

The world outside had mutated entirely.

Trees were withered, the earth was cracked, and the stench of death choked the air. Occasionally, magic-warped abominations prowled through the ruins. They used to be humans or animals; now, they were nothing but horrific monsters.

Following the memories of my past three lives, I arrived at the abandoned gas station.

There were signs of a struggle.

Corpses of mutated bandits littered the ground, alongside scorched bloodstains. Searching carefully, I found Elia's hairpin.

She had been here, and she had been in danger.

I tracked her trail until I reached the entrance of a dark cavern.

"William Black."

A familiar voice echoed from the depths of the cave.

Victor emerged from the shadows, with Elia stepping out right behind him.

My wife looked entirely different now. Her skin was deathly pale, a faint, sickly green glow flickered in her eyes, and her fingers gripped a staff carved from bone.

She had learned necromancy.

"Elia." I reached out my hand. "Come home with me."

"Home?" she sneered. "Back to a house built on lies?"

"What did Victor tell you?"

"He told me the truth." Elia raised her staff. "He told me everything you hid. You knew this catastrophe was coming all along, yet you told no one. You watched countless people die just to protect your own damn manor!"

"It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?!" Fury blazed in her eyes. "Why didn't you save the others? Why only us? And..." her voice began to shake, "My brother is dead, William. Little Tom died in the storm. You knew this was coming—why didn't you warn my family?!"

My heart dropped like a stone.

Tom. Elia's beloved younger brother. In my past three lives, I had completely neglected this detail. Her descent into darkness wasn't just because of my lies—it was because she lost her most precious family member.

"I couldn't save everyone..."

"But you could have saved Tom!" she shrieked. "He was only sixteen, William! He was just a boy!"

I couldn't answer.

Because I couldn't tell her that this entire catastrophe was Victor's meticulously orchestrated conspiracy. The curse physically barred me from speaking the truth.

"Look at you, William." Victor smirked in triumph. "You can never give her a satisfying answer. Because, at your core, you simply don't trust her."

"Elia, come back with me." I reached out again. "I will explain everything."

"Explain?" She took a step back. "You had three years to explain, but you chose silence. Tom is dead, William. My favorite person in the world is dead because of your silence."

She turned to Victor. "Master. Let's go."

"Elia!"

But without a single backward glance, she vanished into the depths of the cavern alongside Victor.

I fell to my knees, watching her walk away.

History was repeating itself once more.

Even after regressing four times, even armed with all the truth in the world, I still lost her.

Because I couldn't break the curse. I couldn't speak the truth.

All I could do was watch the woman I loved march willingly toward her own destruction.