[You perford a complete simulation.]
[Your life is like a shining master. Although brief, it left an unforgettable mark.]
[You were a Holy Domain Mage, mastering nurous elents with unparalleled comprehensiveness—a true master of the arcane.]
[You were respected by the Dragon Clan, one of the rare mortals to gain their acknowledgnt.]
[You possessed profound knowledge across many fields, becoming the most erudite mortal in the world.]
[You successfully raised the witch, teaching her to be independent. You passed away under her watchful eyes, leaving no regrets.]
[The simulation ends. Generating statistics of key monts…]
[Simulation evaluation in progress…]
[Simulation rewards are being prepared…]
…
“Am I back?”
Xu Xi’s eyes fluttered open, and in an instant, the world around him shifted. The intricate architecture of the magical world gave way to the familiarity of his living room in the real world.
He was slouched on the sofa, his head buzzing faintly as his consciousness adjusted. Within monts, the vitality of his youthful body surged through him once again.
“No wonder so many emperors in history sought immortality,” he muttered, clenching his fist and marveling at the strength in his grip. “The feeling of aging…”
“…is unbearable.”
He exhaled deeply, shaking off the mories of frailty. In the magical world, he had experienced the relentless march of ti firsthand—his body growing weaker, every step a struggle.
“I never want to feel that again,” he murmured.
Lying back on the sofa, Xu Xi let his thoughts wander. “I wonder how Krisha is doing now,” he thought aloud. “After I died, what happened to her?”
He sighed, a pang of worry tightening his chest.
Would the witch, left alone, fall into despair?
Would she be discovered by the gods and forced to flee endlessly once more?
In the stillness of his ho, Xu Xi’s mind remained clouded with concern until the simulator’s evaluation process completed.
…
anwhile, in the simulated world, silence engulfed the room where Krisha sat.
Absolute silence.
Only the soft sound of tears hitting the floor broke the stillness—a quiet symphony of despair and sorrow.
Her heart ached.
The witch sat by the bed, her hands trembling as they clasped Xu Xi’s now-cold hand. She tried desperately to share her warmth, to reignite the life that had slipped away.
But it was futile. Completely and utterly futile.
The sun that had once illuminated her world was extinguished. The warmth that had saved her was gone forever.
“Master,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice trembling. “You lied to …”
“The power of love is not infinite.”
Tears cascaded down her cheeks, glistening as they fell onto the aged, lifeless hand she held.
Her love for Xu Xi was profound, unwavering, eternal. Yet even such love had failed to save him.
The witch sobbed softly, her chest tight with unbearable grief. Her hands shook, regret coursing through her as she clung to the bitter truth of her own helplessness.
“Master…”
“I will wait for you… until we et again.”
The words escaped her lips in a whisper, carrying the weight of her shattered heart. Her voice cracked as she cried, her hoarse wails reverberating in the empty room.
Her sobs, once restrained, broke free.
“Ah… ah… ah…”
Her fingers clawed at her face, desperate to suppress the overwhelming pain. But the sorrow was relentless, seeping into every fiber of her being.
Her tears pooled on the floor, glistening under the dim light, while the black and gold hues of her eyes began to distort.
A vivid red erged.
It was the color of blood.
The color of a heart.
The color of love.
Her eyes transford, glowing with the three ethereal shades of black, red, and gold. An enigmatic power surged within her, breaking the chains that bound her potential.
Without a sound, the witch ascended beyond the Holy Domain Magister, stepping into the realm of demigods.
The elents bowed to her.
The world leaned toward her.
All creation acknowledged her.
Yet before her, Xu Xi’s body began to crumble.
The once-vibrant mortal vessel, weakened by decades of strain, disintegrated into fine, invisible powder. Bit by bit, it faded from existence, leaving only emptiness.
The witch remained still.
“Master…” she murmured softly, her voice devoid of life.
Her heart had nearly stopped, her spirit tethered to a fragile hope. Yet she resolved to wait.
To wait endlessly.
To wait until they t again.
…
“The master’s instructions…” Krisha whispered to herself, breaking the stillness.
She rembered Xu Xi’s many preparations, his plans for her.
Though the world felt hollow, she chanically followed his last wishes, collecting and preserving everything he had left behind.
The magic circle in the ditation room.
The dragon blood grass in the courtyard.
The treasures in the bedroom drawers.
The manuscripts in the study.
Each task was completed with a chanical precision, her mind numb with grief.
When she entered the study, a pile of handwritten manuscripts caught her attention.
Carefully, she gathered them. Among them were Xu Xi’s notes on magic and his research into the path to godhood.
Just as she was about to leave, a faint bulge in the wall’s lining drew her gaze.
“What is this?”
Using her ntal power, she extracted a hidden stack of papers buried deep within the wall.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
It was Xu Xi’s.
…
[Failed again. It seems the gods’ blockade is unbreakable.]
[If only I had Krisha’s ability to bypass such restrictions…]
…
[I tried once more this year and failed again, as expected.]
[My body continues to weaken. Even if I broke through the blockade, I doubt I could ignite the divine fire. I have to give up.]
…
[Godhood feels so distant.]
[It’s impossible for . My body grows more lethargic. My ti is running out. I must pave the way for Krisha’s future.]
[This is the last thing I can do…]
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