The sound of bones shattering was crisp.
The back of Cecilia’s hand caved in at a grotesque angle.
Bell’s foot remained planted on it.
He didn’t pull away; instead, he ground down harder, feeling the sensation of bone and flesh being reduced to pulp beneath his boot.
“Agh—!”
Cecilia let out a suppressed groan of agony, her forehead instantly drenched in cold sweat.
But she didn’t beg for mercy.
Her blood-red eyes glared deathly at Bell, filled with a venomous hatred.
Bell withdrew his foot.
He crouched down, looking at the mangled hand with an expressionless face.
“I told you.”
“You would pay the price.”
He turned his head and glanced at Tia.
Tia understood immediately.
Her intact silver arm suddenly began to flow like a melting candle.
Liquid Mithril poured down from her arm, stretching into a bright silver thread in the air that instantly coiled around Cecilia’s limbs and neck.
It wasn't a common restraint.
The liquid Mithril tightened rapidly, seeping into her skin like countless microscopic needles, firmly locking down her skeleton and mana circuits.
Cecilia’s body went rigid.
She could feel her connection to her mana source being forcibly severed.
She had been turned into a cripple.
“What... what do you want to do?”
Extreme terror finally overwhelmed her hatred.
Cecilia’s voice was trembling.
She wasn't afraid of death.
But she was afraid of Bell using a method she couldn't comprehend to turn her into a helpless doll for the slaughter.
Bell didn’t answer.
He stood up and walked a circle around Cecilia, who was bundled up tightly by the liquid Mithril.
It was as if he were inspecting a piece of art about to be worked on.
Kill her?
That was too easy for her.
The torture of two lifetimes, the nightmares of two lifetimes—how could they be repaid with a single, clean death?
What he wanted wasn't her life.
What he wanted was that extremely distorted, mad soul of hers.
He wanted to pull it out.
Wash it clean.
Wash away that filthy, pathological possessiveness.
Wash away that nauseating obsession.
And then...
Stuff it back in.
Let her become a truly well-behaved little sister who would only smile for him.
Once this thought appeared, it could no longer be suppressed.
Bell reached out his hand.
A faint yellow light of the earth element lit up at his fingertips.
He began to trace in the air.
Stroke by stroke.
Ancient and complex runes manifested out of thin air on the floor of the loft.
Cecilia’s pupils contracted violently.
She understood.
He was going to extract her soul!
“No... don’t!”
She began to struggle frantically.
But the liquid Mithril didn't budge; instead, it tightened further, biting into her bones with pain.
She wanted to condense mana, even if it meant self-detonating.
But her head was still spinning, her soul shattered by that blast, making it impossible to concentrate.
This time...
It seemed there was really no escape.
She had actually been played by her brother.
Bell finished the final stroke.
The entire floor of the loft lit up with a massive array emitting an ominous aura.
He walked in front of Cecilia.
He reached out.
His fingers spread open, aimed at the crown of her head.
“It’s over,” he said softly.
Then, he began the extraction.
Cecilia felt her consciousness being yanked out of her body by an irresistible force.
Her vision began to blur.
Just as a sliver of her soul was pulled out and was about to leave her body.
A hand.
Appeared out of thin air.
It grabbed Bell’s wrist.
Steady.
Powerful.
In that instant, the entire world stopped.
The dust dancing outside the window froze in midair.
The Mithril flowing on Tia’s arm went still.
The light of the array on the floor was frozen in time.
Time.
Space.
Everything turned into a static oil painting.
Bell’s pupils shrank sharply.
He turned his head.
He saw the owner of the hand gripping his wrist.
That person...
Looked exactly like him.
The same black hair, the same black eyes.
Except his face wore a gentle smile that Bell had never possessed.
“Let her go, alright?”
The other Bell spoke.
His voice was calm, carrying a hint of a plea.
Bell narrowed his eyes warily.
“Who are you?”
The other Bell smiled.
“In terms our world can understand...”
“I am the you from the first loop, and you are the me from the Nth loop.”
Then, he raised his other hand and pointed at the Cecilia before them, whose expression was frozen in terror.
“She is the Cecilia from the first loop.”
“My Cecilia.”
“Seeing is believing.”
The other Bell didn’t explain further.
He simply raised his other hand and gently pressed it against Bell’s head.
There was no malice.
It was even somewhat warm.
But the moment his fingertips touched the skin of Bell’s forehead.
Boom!
It was as if the stars of the entire universe exploded in his mind.
Countless memories that didn't belong to him flooded in like a bursting dam.
It was a warm afternoon.
In the garden of the Duke Lucas family estate.
A black-haired youth clumsily handed a freshly picked rose to the girl with blushing cheeks before him.
The girl didn't have heaven-defying magical talent; she was just an ordinary noble girl.
She took the flower, bowing her head, her voice as soft as a mosquito.
“Thank you, Brother Bell.”
The youth scratched his head and began to grin foolishly.
That was... love.
Pure, without any impurities—the first love of a young man.
The images shifted rapidly.
They held hands, embraced, and kissed under the starlight.
Everything was as beautiful as an unreal dream.
Until that day.
World-destroying dragon breath descended from the sky.
The Star Dragon King.
The youth shielded the girl firmly beneath him, using his fragile back to withstand the flames that were hot enough to melt steel.
The agonizing pain of his body being torn apart.
In the final moment as his consciousness faded.
What he saw was the girl’s face, covered in tears and filled with despair.
The memories didn't end there.
Bell’s perspective shifted to the girl who survived.
Cecilia.
She held his corpse and cried for three days and three nights.
Then, she wiped away her tears and began to study magic frantically.
Centuries passed.
She was all alone.
She scoured every forbidden text and finally found that slim possibility.
Reincarnation.
If one could cross over from another world.
Then why couldn't time flow backward?
Another few centuries.
She succeeded.
When she opened her eyes again, she had returned to the past.
But time and space do not allow two identical living beings to exist.
Having successfully looped, she was like a shadow that covered and consumed the originally innocent self of that timeline.
The memory shifted again.
The second loop.
In this life, she was no longer shy and actively pursued Bell.
But the Bell of this life, for some reason, rejected her.
Cecilia was unwilling to give up.
She decided to take the Bell of this life with her to another world to start over.
The experiment failed.
Only she was sucked into the turbulence of time and space.
She lived alone in a strange world for hundreds of years.
Until she died of old age.
Then came the third time, the fourth, the fifth...
Hundreds of loops.
Each time, the memories she brought back were incomplete; only that obsessive love was layered and amplified time and again.
Each time, she had to start from scratch, relearn, and become strong again.
Each time, she had to consume the "self" of that world.
Each time, she had to face Bell’s eyes, which were either cold, fearful, or disgusted.
That original love.
Through hundreds of lonely loops and failures, it had been repeatedly ground and fermented.
Ultimately, it turned into this... nauseating, distorted madness.
A massive influx of memories washed over Bell’s nerves.
He stumbled back a step, his head throbbing as if it were about to burst.
He leaned against the wall, gasping for air.
So that was it.
So... that was it.
The girl who smiled at him in the garden.
The girl who wept while holding his corpse.
The madwoman who had consumed herself over and over for centuries just to see him again.
It was all her.
And... it wasn't her.
Rate on N.U.
