The War God Died for Me, But I Loved My Killer

"Aveline, a world without you means nothing to me."

The dragon's scalding blood splattered across my tombstone, melting the thick blanket of snow.

Five minutes ago, he had severed the crimson fox's head—vengeance for me.

I died at the hands of my most cherished companion, died in a carefully orchestrated betrayal. I'd wielded the full power of the Court to elevate that pitiful low-born wretch to godhood, only for him to join forces with my dear sister and plunge a blade into my heart from behind.

And the dragon war god I had scorned—the one I'd humiliated and treated as nothing more than a beast slave—defied imperial decree, razed an entire city, and severed his own life force. All for me.

I watched his dragonfire extinguish completely in the bitter cold. My soul reached out to embrace him, but passed through nothing but endless snow.

Until a blinding light pierced through my vision.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself staring up at the familiar domed ceiling of the Celestial Hall.

I had returned to three years ago, to the Binding Ceremony that sealed my fate.

Reborn into a second chance, those vermin who climbed to power on dragon bones will finally get the hell they deserve.

"Aveline, please don't blame Fenris. He was just jealous of how well you treat me—he didn't mean to bruise my wrist..."

The saccharine, wounded voice drilled into my ears. Nausea hit me like a wave, and I snapped my eyes open.

Ornate vaulted ceiling. The Elven King seated high upon his throne. Highborn elves murmuring around me. Everything felt too real—my chest constricted.

Below my line of sight, Cyprian knelt beside the hem of my gown.

This crimson Fox-Therian possessed a devastatingly beautiful face, the corners of his eyes tinged with an endearing flush, tears pooling in his lashes.

For authenticity, he'd deliberately torn half his right sleeve, exposing a circle of reddened finger marks on his pale skin.

In my past life, I would already be heartbroken by now.

I would have believed those tears without hesitation, turned and slapped that silent Dragon-Therian Fenris twice across the face. I would have accused the dragon of bullying the weak, punished him by making him kneel on the freezing steps outside the hall for two days and nights. I would have trampled dragon pride into the ground before everyone's eyes, shielding this hypocritical fox behind me.

But now, looking at Cyprian's face, all I felt was the phantom pain of a blade piercing through my chest in my previous life.

In those final moments before death, this supposedly fragile fox had smiled with sick, twisted greed:

"Don't blame me. Blame your privileged birth. Highborn elves like you deserve to be crushed underfoot by vermin like me, drained of every last drop of value."

"Aveline?" Seeing my prolonged silence, panic flickered across Cyprian's face. He tentatively reached out that "injured" hand, trying to grasp the edge of my skirt.

"Back off." I stepped back, my voice cold.

Cyprian's hand froze mid-air, genuine shock breaking through his innocent mask.

I didn't give him time to react. I simply lifted my foot and kicked him square in the shoulder.

"Ah!" Cyprian let out a sharp cry, sprawling gracelessly across the floor. His fluffy fox tail nearly burst free.

The hall fell into deathly silence.

"Aveline! What are you doing!" My half-sister Rosalind, who'd been watching from the sidelines, finally dropped her act.

She rushed over to help Cyprian up, glaring at me with fury. "Cyprian's already hurt, and instead of punishing that savage dragon, you attack him? Have you gone mad!"

I looked down, regarding this wretched pair with cold indifference.

"Spare me the act, Cyprian." I stared at him, catching the twisted malice he hadn't fully hidden.

"There are surveillance wards throughout this hall. Fenris never touched you. You forced those marks onto your own skin with magic, didn't you? Your pathetic tricks do nothing but disgust me."

Cyprian's face went deathly pale, his lips trembling. "Aveline, I didn't... how could you think that of me..."

"Still playing the victim? You actually think you're something precious?" I let out a contemptuous laugh and turned away.

I shifted my gaze toward the shadows on the left side of the hall. Fenris stood there.

The legendary Dragon-Therian war god, terror of the continent, currently wore mana-binding shackles on both wrists and ankles.

His battered armor barely concealed the layers of wounds beneath—in some places, freshly shed black dragon scales revealed dark red blood seeping through.

According to the laws of the Starlight Court, defeated Therians could only serve as "spoils of war" for the elven royalty to claim as bonded companions.

He kept his head lowered, golden hair hanging disheveled across his face, his jawline rigid with tension. Even from five steps away, I could feel the deathly stillness and wariness radiating from him.

He probably assumed I was about to approach him and publicly humiliate him, just as that fucking fox had scripted.

I heard his breathing grow ragged, those calloused hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at his sides.

But I didn't hesitate. I walked straight up to him.

"Eyes up."