Chapter 0
Prologue: The Final Death
On this eerily still day, even the horses hitched to the carriage made not a sound.
The sky itself was dyed a gloomy gray, and the branches carrying leaves hung their heads in guilt.
Everyone’s gaze was upon one woman lying deep within Crowell Castle. It seemed the entire world had fallen into sorrow, all because of her.
On the bed surrounded by people was a sickly pale woman with an unmistakable deathly pallor. Her bright pink hair had thinned and became brittle from her long illness. The golden eyes below her trembling lashes were losing their spark bit by bit. Yet nothing could obscure this woman’s beauty.
「O curse of life, release the hero now.
In death, you shall be free.
You, who were stronger than anyone, shall be remembered by the world.」
Those sent by the Empire, the Tower of Magic, and the Temple gathered around her, bowed their heads in unison, and stepped back. It was a eulogy and farewell for the great hero who saved the world.
Yes.
Today was the day Edith Crowell’s breath would cease.
The great hero of the empire, Edith Crowell.
The hero and archmage who had prevented countless calamities from annihilating the world.
All things in this world must lower themselves to revere her passing.
This final moment had at last arrived.
Edith felt no fear or sorrow towards death.
Only relief and joy.
‘Finally.’
For she had lived this life ‘again’ hundreds of times to reach this point. In other words, Edith was a reincarnator who repeated time hundreds of times over.
A faint smile crept across Edith’s stiffening face.
‘…The world will remember me.’
Such a thing was unimportant.
What mattered to her… was simply the fact that she could finally die.
‘It’s over.’
Edith turned her rigid neck to inhale the scent of the white lilies placed right beside her pillow.
They had been left by her beloved younger sibling. How thoughtful.
“Haa…”
Even a single breath caused her withered chest to tremble violently. Her body was so ravaged, it was hard to believe she had commanded the world at her feet just years ago.
Yet Edith willingly endured the excruciating pain that felt like her entire being was being torn apart. The thin clothes sticking to her sweat-damp skin did not bother her.
The saying ‘to have no regrets in death’ suited her present self better than anyone.
The reason Edith Crowell underwent such arduous reincarnation was an unnamed curse.
A horrific curse that caused agonizing pain as her body gradually broke down, until finally scattering like ashes.
Yet simultaneously, the very reason Edith Crowell could accomplish everything… was also thanks to that unnamed curse.
Originally, the curse was meant to simply bring a fated death. But Edith Crowell discovered one new fact related to the curse.
That a person afflicted by this curse ‘must witness the curse’s end to be able to die.’
So, if one died before reaching the curse’s end…
They would reincarnate again the very next day under the curse’s influence.
This was how Edith Crowell lived hundreds of lives over and over again.
Those hundreds of lives contained hundreds of incidents, and each incident had thousands of potential variations.
Through her ability, Edith Crowell was able to foresee major turning points in her life and calculate the best moves like a chess player, repeating her life over and over again.
If things went even slightly wrong, she would cleanly give up and start over from the beginning.
In a life that she couldn’t truly end on her own terms.
If she reached a perfect conclusion, death would be waiting at the end.
Repeatedly picking up the pieces of her crumbling psyche.
Again. Again. Again…
Until she reached the best possible future.
Edith Crowell managed to undergo hundreds of regressions.
Since she didn’t have a choice to stop regressing, it would be more apt to say she had no choice but to succeed.
And yet, what allowed Edith Crowell to remain human instead of becoming a monster was her firm goal.
‘My beloved family…’
She wanted to leave a future for her loved ones.
While the world descended into chaos, she saved the world to protect her beloved family. All other meaning had faded long ago.
Edith Crowell had forsaken even the luxury of despair in order to protect the Crowell family.
A single, brightly burning goal guided the immortal regressor.
And finally, the time had come.
‘This is it.’
At last. After hundreds of deaths and lives, she could see the end.
The world did not sink into chaos, and the Crowell family was more honorable than any other house.
Countless songs and poems would remember and praise her.
She no longer had to return to the past. She could finally die.
And even after her death.
Even after this life ended.
The world would go on.
Edith Crowell mindlessly muttered the final threads remaining in her ears.
‘The curse of life. Let me go… release me now.’
It was at that moment.
The flesh of Edith Crowell, who had endured for so long, began to slowly slip away from this world.
Crumbling like ashes, scattering into dust.
Everyone swallowed a mournful groan at the early death of the hero spanning a century.
Long and heavy gold crack appeared on her pale cheeks devoid of vitality like a white plaster sculpture.
Cracking.
The human form crumbles.
The cursed soul vanishes without a trace…
Complete death feels rather numb, it seems.
Edith Crowell closed her eyes without regret.
Next, her eyelids disappeared.
Her eyeballs scattered like gold dust, the last glimmer fading away.
…That’s how it should have been.
🥀
The hot wind brushed my face. I blinked unconsciously.
Even a single eyelash should have scattered perfectly into ashes. The arms and legs that should have gone limp like a broken puppet bizarrely felt heavy.
It was only after that my vision returned.
Slash—
A brilliant blue blade flashed towards me head-on.
“…?!”
I instinctively jerked my head to the side, and my body moved of its own accord.
This was no dream or illusion.
As I turned my head, a searing pain tore across my cheek.
I hadn’t fully dodged it, as a burning streak cut along my cheek.
“…?”
I brought my hand to my face and it came away slick with a warm, viscous fluid. Red. Blood.
Lifting my bloodied hand, I looked at my opponent in front of me.
An ordinary, youthful face I didn’t recognize stared back, sword still extended from the strike, frozen in unease.
“…Ah.”
“……”
What?
I glanced around hastily. People surrounding me seemed to interpret my reaction as a signal, as they all started chattering at once.
“She didn’t dodge. Is she crazy?”
“What’s going on?”
“Edith Crowell is bleeding.”
“To draw a sword on a lady.”
“Well, it is ‘that’ Edith Crowell, so maybe it’s fine.”
“So what happened? Is it a sparring match?”
“Chester drew his blade.”
“Who knows. Maybe Crowell will use this as an excuse to extort something.”
The din of murmuring voices rushed in oppressively as my senses kicked in.
Where is this?
These people?
…A dusty wind carrying the stench of blood and sweat ruffled my hair.
My back felt the sting of roughly hewn wooden fences.
The tepid breeze, clearly warmed by body heat, blew grains of sand that tickled my eyelashes whenever it gusted.
…The scene that met my newly opened eyes was one I could never have imagined.
Young boys, all dressed in identical uniforms, swarmed… the training ground.
The academy’s sparring ground?
What in the world is happening?
My heart pounded madly. No, it shouldn’t be beating at all. Wasn’t I supposed to rest?
This was all meant to end. There was no other way. So why?
The voices clamoring in my previously untroubled mind threatened to split my head open. Question after unanswerable question piled up. Why in the world…?
This feels. Exactly. Like being brought back to life…
“That can’t be right.”
It can’t be. This is something that must not happen.
“…It can’t…be.”
The grating, youthful voice ground out the words in clipped tones. It took me a few seconds to realize it was my own voice speaking.
“What, what are you saying? It’s your own fault for not dodging, Crowell!”
Then, a disturbance crept into my buzzing ears. What did you say? Did I speak out loud? My head felt muddled.
Right. I just need to confirm it.
The blade that was aimed at my cheek had somehow drifted down, trembling unsteadily near my chest – perfectly positioned to reflect my face.
I grabbed the blade with one hand and tugged it forcefully towards me. The sharp edge sliced easily into my palm, the searing pain far too acute to be an illusion.
“Aaaah!”
“Have you lost your mind?!”
Gasps of shock erupted at my reckless act of grasping the blade barehanded.
“Ugh…!”
Even the sword-wielding boy let out a strained cry and dropped his weapon.
So noisy, these brats.
I lifted the seized blade to my face. My distorted reflection stared back at me along the steel.
“It can’t…be…”
Blood flowed down from a long gash on my left cheek, staining my cheeks red.
My messy pink hair sprawled untidily, and the vivid yellow eyes, burning like embers, meeting my own gaze in the blade.
The red blood dripping from the hand gripping the blade covered the face reflected in the blade’s edge.
“…Haa.”
A soft sigh escaped me.
I had returned to the past again.
🥀
Thank you for reading! ♡
Looks very interesting. Thank you for translating! 😆