Witchbound Villain: Infinite Loop
214 – Second Chance

"I didn’t lie, Sister Lucia!" Paschasius grinned. "People who receive revelations from God cannot sin. If we did, dark corruption would seep from our hearts and swallow the world whole."

"Just admit you stole the honey date from my plate, Pascha! That was my favorite part of the meal!"

Paschasius pressed his lips together, trying so hard not to laugh—only to fail miserably.

"Father Pascha, you can have my honey date!"

"You can take mine too!"

"Please don’t steal Sister Lucia’s again… she might actually cry…"

Hearing the orphanage children rebuke him while also offering up their own food, Paschasius gasped in mock reverence. "Oh, praise God… where did You send these pure little angels from?"

Then, in a dramatic turn, he clapped his hands together. "Alright! Round up! Form a line! Everyone, return Sister Lucia’s honey date properly!"

The children giggled but obediently lined up. One by one, as they placed a honey date on her plate, they each said a single word.

"Happy!"

"Birthday!"

"Sister!"

"Lucia!"

"Happy!"

"Happy—ow! What do I say?"

"Birthday, dummy!"

"Why can’t we just sing?!"

"Dummy! You ruined it!"

"BWAHAHAHAHA—"

"Father Pascha! This was your idea! Stop laughing!"

"Ugh! Father Pascha is such a dummy! Happy birthday, Sister Lucia!"

"Huh? Don’t laugh too!"

"Pffft—!"

By the time the last child had given her a honey date, Lucia found herself staring at a small mountain of them—thirty-something in total. Then, Paschasius stepped forward and placed two more onto her plate—his own and the one he originally stole.

She sighed. "How am I supposed to finish all this…?"

Paschasius sighed too. "Yeah… I knew it. It’s one too many, isn’t it?"

And without missing a beat, he swiped one back and popped it into his mouth.

"Pascha!"

***

Burn frowned, his gaze darkening at the grief pooling in her eyes. “Why are you blaming yourself?”

Morgan shook her head, silent. But Burn wasn’t having it.

“You had to seal him,” he pressed. “Guilty or not, the corruption would’ve spread if you didn’t.”

“The corruption would have spread anyway,” Morgan murmured. “But I could’ve saved him. Somehow. I should’ve tried. If it didn’t originally come from him, then maybe I—”

“Alright,” Burn cut in, sharp but not unkind. “Let’s say you knew. Which you didn’t. Are you telling me you could have saved him?”

Morgan didn’t answer.

Burn scoffed. “You drowned the land, Momo. You unleashed an ocean in a single breath—the moment your Vision awakened. You think you were in any state to ‘save’ him?” He let that hang in the air for a second. “You couldn’t even save yourself. You died with him.”

“Yes,” Morgan whispered. She looked down, hands tightening. “But if I hadn’t…”

“You still saved the world.” Burn exhaled, then shrugged. “Yeah, alright, eventually the first demon lord dug it up again, but you still did. You are Saint Lucia. That Saint Lucia.”

The woman who had been reborn seventeen times—each time into the same royal family, each time dying before adulthood—only to leave behind a revolution in her wake. A cycle of sacrifice, wisdom, and defiance so relentless that it had scorched history itself. All before awakening her Vision.

And if corruption had come from another world… then maybe this was always inevitable.

Inevitable because of its unpredictability.

Morgan exhaled slowly. “After I found out, he asked me to create that illusion barrier. We both claimed it was God’s command, but that was a lie. It was our own choice—the mere mention of something from another world was enough for us to try and hide.”

She sighed. “But then, Isaiah remembered something. Romeuf once said that Merlin came from another world…”

The Merlin they knew wasn’t a bad man. Even now—after he had betrayed her—it was difficult for Isaiah and Vlad to reconcile that fact. How could Morgan’s father, the greatest mage to have ever lived, the man who had fought alongside them to slay the Demon Lord, have betrayed them?

But for Morgan, it was worse. She knew corruption had come from another world.

Wouldn’t that mean it was Merlin who brought it?

Or… were there others?

When Merlin vanished—disappearing in the blink of an eye through a dimensional gateway powered by Morgan’s accumulated soul energy he had successfully stolen—it was assumed he had returned to wherever he came from.

But what if he hadn’t simply returned?

What if he had finished whatever he came here to do?

What if his true purpose had always been—to spread corruption?

Burn pulled her closer—just a little too hastily. He squeezed her tightly, rubbing slow circles into her back.

“I’ve never met this guy,” he muttered, “but there’s nothing I want more than to poke him in the eye, pry it out, and feed it to him.”

Morgan chuckled.

“Anyway,” she continued, “whatever attacked me in the last loop should’ve given him just as much backlash. It had been marinating inside Blair, and if the vessel had been anyone else… I’m guessing the attack would have manifested completely differently.”

Burn frowned. “You mean, because it was something he used to manipulate Blair’s Vision, it became that strong?”

Morgan nodded.

The Red Thread of Fate—Blair’s Vision Specialty.

“Just like I never imagined someone could use Corruption to create a device like the Vision Resonator,” Morgan said, “I also never imagined someone could use it to cultivate a Vision—at the cost of the victim’s sanity, health, and even their life.”

The second Demon Lord had called Blair his masterpiece.

Then there was that creature that had attacked Tristan and Yvolt. Ahl—whatever.

Could he be another one of the Demon Lord’s experiments? Another attempt at… whatever this was? Maybe even one of the successful ones?

Burn’s grip on her arm tightened.

Morgan raised a hand, leaning into him, brushing her fingers gently against his cheek.

“Yes, Caliburn.” Her voice was soft. Certain.

“If I can save Blair…” she whispered, “we might be able to save Aroche.”

Burn’s eyes widened.

***

The void sighed. There was no up nor down, no horizon, no sky—only darkness, heavy and absolute. At the center of this abyss, a shapeless mass pulsed, its surface rippling like ink disturbed by an unseen force.

Suspended within, a head lay still. Its eyes remained closed, as if lost in eternal slumber, untouched by time or awareness. The black mass shuddered. Slowly, agonizingly, the head began to rise.

The silence deepened.

Then, as if sensing its own awakening, the head’s eyelids twitched. A breathless moment passed before they parted, revealing eyes hollow and depthless. The void did not reflect within them—it was absorbed.

And then, the weeping began.

Thick, viscous tears—black as the void itself—spilled down the pale cheeks, leaving streaks that seemed to burn into the skin. They fell soundlessly, vanishing into the darkness below.

Yet the weeping did not cease. The head, now fully emerged, remained weightless, adrift in its abyss. It did not sob. It did not wail.

It simply opened its eyes… and wept.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.