At the time, I absolutely couldn't accept what the viscount had done. I made a huge scene at the investiture ceremony and ended up being beaten black and blue and thrown out. Looking back now, the viscount's choice was completely correct.

If anyone developed delusions they shouldn't have had, they had only their own foolishness to blame, no one else.

Afterward, the viscount sent someone to find me privately, expressed his apologies, and invited me to dine at the Goldflame estate another day—dress casual.

According to that messenger, although the position of Head Mage had already been decided and couldn't be changed, the viscount was very willing to let me join the Mage Corps and was quite interested in my experience of dying and coming back to life.

According to the Star God's scriptures, a few saints had died and been resurrected... so I thought I'd cause at least a bit of a stir. But this matter actually spread less than my tantrum at the ceremony.

Some townsfolk looked at me even less favorably. In the taverns, a well-meaning bard even worked me into the viscount's story, casting me as the amusing fool who demonstrated his lordship's magnanimity. Also, the potion shop owner died on the night of the beast tide.

It's a bit embarrassing to admit, but after that, I suffered from insomnia for several days straight. Each night, I wandered alone around the abandoned watchtower, the church, the central plaza, and near the Goldflame estate, chewing over and reliving the various experiences of my sixteen years of life.

One night, the moon became thin and bright, making even the stars seem dim.

Looking at it, my mood suddenly improved.

So, instead of going to the dinner, I packed up my meager possessions—the kind that would earn a流浪汉's sympathy—and left the town under the cold moonlight.

I embarked on a long journey.

Calling it a journey might be generous; I hadn't really decided on a destination. I just thought I'd try heading as far south as possible.

My magic had become quite formidable by then. Dealing with ordinary bandits and monsters was effortless, making me an ideal bodyguard candidate in the eyes of merchant caravans. So I moved from caravan to caravan as a guard, gradually making my way south.

Earn a living, rest a little, study magic, repel bandits, move on. Life passed in this cycle.

At that time, the demons were already stirring. Rumors of impending war spread everywhere.

Demon attacks on human towns grew increasingly frequent. Their organization and combat strength were far beyond ordinary bandits. News would often come of some town being massacred, some family wiped out with only one survivor left.

Even several members of the royal family were assassinated. The call for so-called "heroes" was issued all the way to the kingdom's borders.

Once, I was camping in the wilderness with a caravan. A demon squad infiltrated silently under cover of darkness and, with almost no effort, slaughtered all the caravan members and other guards.

They were the most powerful enemies I'd encountered since starting my journey. After a bitter struggle, I barely managed to annihilate the attacking demons.

Aside from me, only the young wife of the team leader still had a flicker of life.

Her condition was utterly miserable, about a third as horrific as my own near-death experience in the forest.

Looking at her, I felt a stir of compassion. So I hastily began learning healing magic, stabilizing her injuries while seeking out doctors and studying everywhere.

After spending all my savings and several months, I finally managed to heal the woman. She thanked me profusely, saying she would remember my kindness until she died, and would write it into the family genealogy to be passed down through generations.

The kingdom's healing magic was quite advanced. She also seemed to be the young lady of some major family, just caught in misfortune. If nothing unexpected happened, even if she didn't live to a ripe old age, she'd probably make it to forty or fifty.

This struck me as utterly absurd. So, I killed her.

Strangely, I've forgotten what she usually looked like, but I still vividly remember the scene of her death.

It was a slightly muggy autumn night in a sparsely furnished inn room. The air held the distinctive scent of medicinal incense.

She lay on the wrinkled sheets as I broke her neck. Her pale face, just recovering from serious illness, twisted in fear and pain.

In that moment, I felt an unprecedented, indescribable sense of release. The tangled knot that had bound me for so long suddenly came undone. The rusted, stubborn stone lock clicked open as well.

Ah, so this was it. This must be why I was born into this world.

I burned the woman's body to ashes and claimed she had died suddenly in the night from a relapse of her old illness.

After all, her body had been weak, and I had exhausted everything to save her. No one suspected a thing.

I continued my journey.

Demon activity grew increasingly rampant. War officially broke out. The entire world plunged into chaos. My magic advanced by leaps and bounds through实战; ordinary demons were no longer a match for me.

So, I could save one desperate person after another at will, and then, when they were weeping with gratitude and pouring out their hearts to me, I would kill them with my own hands.

Gradually, I grew dissatisfied with such mundane methods. I began honing my speech, making the people I saved kill themselves. Or making them kill others, only to be captured and executed.

Save people, kill people, amass wealth, drink and revel, wander the world. Life repeated in this cycle.

One day, while drinking alone at a tavern, Necross came.

Our reunion wasn't as tense as I might have imagined. It was quite calm. I bought him a cheap ale, and he reciprocated by recommending the house specialty—smoked ribs.

After eating and drinking our fill and killing everyone in the tavern, he asked if I knew of "Red Duke" Mordred. I said yes. He briefly explained the Three-Eye Ritual, then got to the point.

"Mordred is my contractor. I thought he could create a perfect body, but after many attempts, he still couldn't."

"So I decided to give up on him, but he refused to give up on me. So, could you go kill him?"

Killing is killing, whoever it is.

Besides, I was curious: what expression would a great demon who had caused mass slaughter make before dying? I agreed on the spot. It was only after he left that I remembered we hadn't discussed the curse.

Mordred was incredibly strong. I joined forces with the Border Watchers and barely managed to defeat him, but he escaped at the last moment. During the battle, all the Border Watchers died. Only I survived.

I had long heard that Mordred delighted in torturing prisoners and kept many captive in the castle dungeons.

I entered the dungeons, pondering what kind of deaths to arrange for those poor prisoners. And then, Sylvia, I met you...

"Mr. Wilson, the Mage Corps has assembled."

The current Head Mage pushed open the door and reported respectfully. I smiled in response:

"Mm, I'll be there shortly."

Ah, my apologies. It seems I'll have to temporarily seal away the remaining part. If there's another chance, I'll continue next time.

The Head Mage acknowledged and withdrew, closing the door behind him.

I walked slowly to the bedside and sat down, gazing at Sylvia's slightly weary sleeping face. The smile on my face gradually faded.

Sylvia, both in the past and now, you always insist on calling yourself my friend.

But when you babbled on with those clichéd hero tales, wearing that nauseating, hollow,虚伪, and affected smile, did you ever have even one percent of understanding about these filthy, dark corners of my heart?

You don't. You scorn Adam's humble feelings, you turn a blind eye to Ilya's profound hatred, and naturally, you've never truly cared about my thoughts or my past.

Even now, as you stage this pretentious revenge drama for me, you're just going through the motions, all surface, without a shred of genuine emotion. You even thought I wouldn't recognize you just because you changed bodies.

You cold,麻木, utterly self-absorbed monster. I won't waste any more effort trying to kill you a second time.

The preparations are almost complete.

Wake up soon. The real show is about to begin.