“Sculptor” let out a Beast-like howl, trying to deny the reality so cruel that it completely collapsed his worldview.
The faith he was proud of, the artistic pursuit he had devoted his life to, had actually been built on a complete and utterly malicious lie.
“This is only the First Loop.”
Livia’s voice echoed faintly in his ear, carrying a hint of playfulness and the satisfaction of a successful prank.
“Don’t worry, there are still 998 more waiting for you. The show has only just begun.”
Entering the doomsday scene of the second life, “Sculptor” saw a completely different method of destruction.
The sky suddenly split open into a huge, bottomless rift, and a terrifying deity named “Observer” cast a seed full of malice into this fragile world.
A giant shadow blotting out the sky instantly covered the entire planet; it was not ordinary clouds, but a vast living canopy composed of billions of strange, cold-emitting creatures.
They emitted piercing screeches and descended like locusts upon every corner of the planet, beginning to remodel it wantonly.
Under their erosion, the earth was quickly covered by a layer of stinking, constantly writhing purple fungal carpet.
Once-solid steel and towering city walls rapidly dissolved under the carpet’s corrosion, becoming nutrients to feed these monsters.
Humanity’s insignificant resistance, before this endless tide of insects surging like waves, seemed as powerless as children playing house, easily submerged and devoured.
“Sculptor” watched helplessly as living humans were dragged into huge hatching pools reeking with intense stench, turning into green biological matter amid shrill, despairing screams, then transported through thick, blood-vessel-like veins on the fungal carpet into giant flesh sacs, cultivating even more new monsters.
Individual life, brilliant civilization, ancient history—everything was completely erased, leaving only the most efficient, coldest nutrient circulation system.
When the memories were rapidly played back to the 33rd cycle of reincarnation, “Sculptor”‘s spirit completely collapsed; he had already gone mad.
He had personally witnessed too many ways civilizations were destroyed: the world dragged into an eternal ice age, all life turned into frozen sculptures; the sun cruelly extinguished by an invisible giant hand, absolute darkness swallowing all vitality; the fundamental rules of the universe arbitrarily altered, stones beginning to scream, water burning fiercely…
Those indescribable horrors from the distant Star Choir ruthlessly polished his sanity like sandpaper, finally wearing it down to nothing.
Tears and snot streaming, he madly smashed his filth-covered head against the void ground, his throat letting out Beast-like cries of pain, hysterically begging Livia to kill him and end this endless torment.
Livia merely stood there quietly, expression indifferent, like a cold broadcaster, continuing to play those endless memory fragments.
Until the 114th cycle of reincarnation, when the familiar Academy and Capital once again turned into a towering sea of fire, “Sculptor”‘s last mental defense was completely broken.
His consciousness was thoroughly assimilated and devoured by Livia’s abyss-wide, suffocatingly heavy flood of memories.
“Damn Empire bastards! I’ll kill you all! I’ll avenge Marianne! Kill you all!”
He roared and wailed, completely forgetting that he himself was an Imperial.
Livia merely watched his madness quietly, then let out a soft, slightly tired sigh.
Finally, at the end of the 326th cycle of reincarnation, that endless, profound Despair finally erased everything that remained of him.
“Sculptor”‘s consciousness completely became a pure blank, and together with his Soul, vanished into the flood of memories.
The flood of memories slowly receded, and Livia’s consciousness returned to reality.
She still maintained the posture of piercing the last Enemy with her sword in one hand, the hot blood of the enemy dripping slowly down the blade’s tip.
Not far away, “Sculptor” stood frozen in place, eyes wide open, his face still frozen with the last trace of disbelief and bone-deep fear.
“Sculptor” had completely become an eternally still “sculpture”; his Soul had long been wiped out in endless Despair.
Livia could even faintly hear, from the high heavens above, a vague, mocking sneer.
It seemed that the “Pleasure Prince” was quite satisfied with this final work that used “Sculptor” himself as raw material.
Looking at that “sculpture” with completely empty, lifeless eyes, Livia slowly withdrew her bloodstained Rapier and let out a soft sigh.
“Just who gave you such laughable confidence to dare pry into my heart?”
She couldn’t help but think of Allen.
She thought of his golden eyes, which remained as calm as an unchanging dead pool even when speaking of the 999 deaths of the cycles of reincarnation.
This clown-like “Sculptor” before her actually tried to use another’s pain as a weapon, not realizing that before true Despair capable of devouring everything, he himself was the complete joke.
“This isn’t even one-third of it.” She said softly. “Compared to Allen, you’re far too lacking.”
A brutal, extreme battle finally ended with Livia completely unharmed.
She was still as radiant as ever; the pure white dress Allen had sewn for her with his own hands showed not the slightest stain, and not even a drop of rain had touched her.
Perhaps it was precisely her deep cherishing of this garment that granted her the strange power to kill enemies without being wounded.
Livia looked up at the sky; the originally pouring rain had somehow quietly weakened, turning into a drizzling fine rain.
In the distance, the backup forces “Sculptor” had left hidden in the shadows had also been mercilessly slaughtered by the Inquisition lying in wait.
An Inquisitor dragged a broken heretic corpse and nodded to her from afar.
Livia smiled and returned a standard Knight’s salute, silently thanking them for resolving the aftermath for her.
Once upon a time, she had been the target hunted across the world by these Inquisitors, the number one Heresy in their mouths; now, they stood on the same front.
She had to admit that when the gears of Fate turned, they were indeed full of incredible wonder.
The Cult forces of the Capital’s Crystal Devouring had this time been completely uprooted and cleansed.
But Livia knew well that her battle was far from truly over.
The Blood Priest codenamed “Plague” still lurked in the shadows, quietly preparing even more terrifying conspiracies.
And those “Stellar Sigils” that had once accompanied her through long years had not truly left either.
They had merely quieted for the time being, like lofty chess players, silently watching her, an increasingly interesting piece.
However, at this moment, Livia was already without fear.
She was no longer that lone traveler walking alone.
As long as Marianne and Allen were by her side, she would never lose her way.
Livia spoke to that silent, soundless consciousness space in a calm and firm tone:
“Thank you.”
“Without your Sacrifice, I could not have come this far, nor could I have met Allen.”
“Once, I hated you too.”
“You were the cage that accompanied me through long years; I know you were always waiting, waiting for me to rely on you again and ultimately become your puppet.”
“No matter what twisted Fate you carefully prepared for me, I will keep walking firmly, and then… defeat it with my own hands.”
“So, I will continue forward.”
As her words fell, in that once deathly silent consciousness space, a faint yet incredibly familiar warmth actually emerged.
That was the final “Blessing” left by the “Stellar Sigils,” or rather, those Evil Gods.
They seemed to have returned to the friendly companions who had once accompanied Livia through countless long years, and for the last time, in a manner so gentle it was almost pitying, they said farewell to Livia.
There was no sound, only a pure, emotion-filled thought quietly surfacing deep in Livia’s mind.
“Go fly, our proudest child. You will become the freest bird.”
“May your journey finally reach the destination you truly long for in the depths of your heart.”
That warm thought rapidly receded like a tide and disappeared without a trace.
Immediately after, an indescribable, chilling cold as if from a higher-dimensional universe descended without warning, enveloping her entire body.
It was as if the endless darkness and cold void of the entire universe had focused its gaze on her, a life as tiny as a speck of dust.
Livia’s whole body trembled uncontrollably, and she instinctively tightened her grip on the sword hilt.
She “saw” that above those four “Stellar Sigils” she knew so well, in the deeper reaches of that endless sea of chaos, something… slowly opened its eyes.
Each gaze cast down represented a civilization completely devoured, a history mercilessly erased.
An icy, emotionless thought was branded deep into the deepest part of Livia’s Soul.
“…Finally… found you.”
That suffocating coldness instantly vanished without a trace.
That last whisper—whether it came from those familiar “Stellar Sigils,” or from an even more terrifying, more unknown existence—was impossible to tell.
The rain in the sky had, at some point, completely stopped.
The heavy dark clouds dispersed, and under the washed-clean night sky, not a single star could be seen.
Livia silently turned around and slowly walked toward the only warm light that had been lit for her through the long rainy night.
Her black cloak, which she had once casually discarded in the blood and filth, remained quietly behind her, as if it were her heavy past, completely severed.
Livia did not look back at that cloak again.
The vast cosmic pattern slowly rotated across the sky.
She would eventually become that new Stellar Sigil, illuminating the path of the one who was chasing the starry sky forward.