If Krecia were given the chance to start over, he would most likely never glance at that damned Magic Wand again—not even once.
Unfortunately, Krecia wouldn’t have a second chance. That Magic Wand was still sitting safely in the compartment of the bookshelf in his room to this day.
Had he done something wrong?
He’d only bought a toy.
So was he unlucky?
Yes, he was very unlucky.
At this moment, Krecia sat in the corner of this space with his arms wrapped around his knees, his back facing the unfamiliar girl, quietly shutting himself off.
His mind was filled with endless black lines.
He had never experienced such a complicated mix of emotions in his entire life.
Suddenly inundated with such a massive amount of information, he didn’t even know where to begin venting his frustrations.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
The girl walked behind him and poked his head with a finger.
“Don’t bother me. Let me be alone for a while.”
“Are you angry?”
“Of course I’m angry!”
“All because of this… this one…”
“Ah… what did my life ever mean to those bastards? Just because of this thing, a noble said ‘kill’ and I was killed without even a chance to speak!”
“What if he had just asked? I really didn’t know anything. If you’d said you wanted it, I could have sold it to you, or even given it to you for free!”
After venting his emotions, the atmosphere cooled down once again.
“Done venting?”
“I… I’m done.”
“Hm… I’ve heard the cause of death, and you’ve vented enough. It’s time to get to the main point, which is why I pulled your soul into this space.”
The girl waved her hand, and a black wooden chair of a comfortable height materialized out of thin air. She sat down and crossed one leg over the other.
Her small feet, clad in black leather shoes, came into Krecia’s line of sight.
“…”
“Get me one of those too.”
“Hm? What did you say?”
The girl blinked.
“I said chair. Get me one as well. I want to sit.”
A look of surprise appeared on her delicate face for the first time. Apparently, she hadn’t realized this guy’s thoughts could be so erratic.
“No.”
“By the way, when others are speaking, you should listen quietly without interrupting. You’re a noble, right? Don’t you know noble etiquette?”
Krecia curled his lips, clearly not taking it seriously.
They were all dead anyway. Who gives a damn about that?
Who was he putting on airs for?
After scolding Krecia, the girl cleared her throat and continued speaking from where she left off.
“First, I need to clarify my identity.”
“My name is Coutia. I have no surname. I am one of the deities who once existed in your world—the Primordial Witch.”
“Deity? Witch?”
“Yes.”
“You just said you’re a deity who once existed in our world? So you’re not here anymore?”
“You could say that. The place where we’re talking right now is outside the world, a Chaos Space I temporarily constructed. It will collapse in a few minutes, so we need to hurry.”
“What happens if it collapses?”
“What do you think?”
“…”
Krecia chose to remain silent.
Coutia—a name he had never even heard of. As for deities and witches, that was even more absurd. Such things only appeared in the little booklets handed out by the Church.
God of Magic, God of the Sea, God of Grain—those messy names of deities were all lined up in endless lists. Even the relative clauses he studied in his previous life weren’t as hard to remember as these divine names.
He had no idea what mental state the Church folks were in when they came up with those stinky, long names.
As for this girl before him who claimed to be the Primordial Witch Coutia, he was only half-believing her words.
After all, he hadn’t seen a single real deity in his two lifetimes.
“Hm… Do you want revenge?”
“Against that stupid and murderous Third Princess.”
Coutia’s next words immediately grabbed Krecia’s full attention.
Did he want that?
He wanted it more than anything.
He was itching to get up right now, teleport straight to the palace, give that idiot a good elbow, and drag that damn Designer out for execution.
“Oh~ You look very motivated~”
“But I haven’t said anything yet.”
“Some things don’t need to be said. Your expression already tells me your answer.”
After speaking, Coutia produced a piece of ancient, yellowed Sheepskin Parchment in her hand.
“You really can give me a chance for revenge?”
Krecia still found it hard to believe, including the claim that this woman was a deity.
So far, no matter how he looked at her words or actions, she didn’t resemble the divine beings filled with godliness from mythology in the slightest.
“That’s natural. As long as you agree, resurrection is nothing difficult for me.”
Coutia spoke as strange symbols and characters slowly appeared on the parchment.
He couldn’t understand a single one. They bore no resemblance to any script in his memory.
But now was not the time to worry about that.
“I agree, of course. As long as you can resurrect me, with my skills, that petty princess…”
“With your skills, you’ll never get revenge in this life.”
Coutia cut Krecia’s lofty declaration coldly, as if she hadn’t just told him not to interrupt others.
“Weak body, dull mind, and your only notable magical Talent is something that can be easily found in a handful of people around the royal city.”
“Someone like you can forget about revenge against the princess. You wouldn’t even stand a chance against that idiot Designer.”
Krecia’s face darkened immediately.
“So you pulled out this parchment just to insult me?”
“Of course not. I’m not that boring.”
“Since I said I could help, then I definitely can.”
The parchment was now filled with those strange symbols. Coutia handed it to Krecia, who reached out and took it.
He glanced over it again—still couldn’t understand a word.
“This is a Contract. Once signed, you will receive a fraction of my Blessing. Your Talent will be enhanced somewhat, giving you some capital for your revenge.”
Coutia turned her gaze to the side. As she did, a Light Screen unfolded, displaying what appeared to be the scene of Krecia’s death.
In the footage, Krecia lay with his head detached from his body on the bed, blood splattered everywhere—the scene was horrific.
Meanwhile, a masked man carrying a bloodstained Long Knife ransacked his room.
Bookshelves, wardrobes, storage boxes—all were opened and their contents strewn about.
“Oh, look at your pathetic bedroom… Wait, what’s that on the floor by the wardrobe? Ah, you have a cross-dressing fetish?”
Coutia’s words made Krecia’s face flush red.
“Don’t pry into other people’s privacy, you jerk!”
“Okay, okay~”
Krecia calmed down for two seconds before handing the Contract back to Coutia.
“Here, signed.”
“So fast?”
Coutia was surprised, taking the Contract to examine it, noticing a faint handprint at the bottom.
“Fingerprint.”
“You can read the text on the Contract?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know where to sign?”
Coutia asked with curiosity.
“By common sense, the fingerprint spot is usually at the bottom right of a Contract, right?”
After all, in his previous life, contracts were signed on the last page. Even deities probably followed the basics.
“Not dumb after all. But I haven’t finished talking yet.”
Krecia’s heart tightened.
What did she mean she wasn’t finished?
There couldn’t be hidden traps in just this one page, could there?
Maybe because the Contract was signed, the space began to show faint signs of collapsing.
“Don’t worry, it’s just following the principle of equivalent exchange.
I can’t just give you back your life for free and turn trash into treasure, can I?”
True. Resurrection was far too incredible… Wait, turn trash into treasure?
Who the hell are you calling trash?
Huh?
Krecia shouted loudly in his mind, though he kept quiet.
Black cracks started appearing in the pure white space around them.
The situation no longer allowed time for complaints.
“Because your body has already been declared dead in the Main World, your Soul will be reclaimed. So I need to make some modifications to your Soul.”
“Moreover, you can only be resurrected using the body I provide. That’s the only way to fool the Main World’s Contract Mechanism.”
Upon hearing this, a bad feeling stirred in Krecia’s heart.
Although he was happy to hear about resurrection and the chance for revenge, something felt off.
Modifying my Soul? Using a body you provide for resurrection?
Would the resurrected me still be me?
No.
Wouldn’t I become some unspeakable thing after resurrection? Who knows what these mysterious deities will do to the new body?
Don’t mess with me!
“Don’t panic. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied.”
Coutia smiled softly at Krecia, but the deep sparkle in her eyes sent a chill down his spine.
“Crack… Collapse…”
With a series of increasingly rapid, crisp sounds, the surrounding space fragments began to fall apart, and terrifying spatial fluctuations started to affect this space.
Sensing danger, Krecia instinctively moved closer to Coutia.
There were only the two of them here. It seemed she was the only one who could offer even a faint sense of security.
“Ah, time’s a little tight, isn’t it?”
Coutia raised her hand, and a Black Shield of unknown energy covered them, isolating the spatial fluctuations outside.
“Looks like I won’t be able to explain the Contract’s details thoroughly. Blame you, the impatient little guy.”
“Alright, since the Contract is signed, I’ll fulfill its terms. The rest we’ll talk about after you wake up.”
“By the way, since you like cross-dressing, why not take this opportunity to become a pretty girl? I’m sure you’ll be happier that way.”
“Wait, what?”
“Don’t you dare touch my—”
Before Krecia could finish, Coutia grabbed his head. Krecia felt the world spin wildly, twisting and warping until it became distorted and grotesque.
Then, a strong wave of drowsiness overwhelmed him, and the next moment, he lost consciousness.
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