Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 151

Chapter 151: Most Enduring (Special Chapter)
Magnus Bloodstone turned eighteen on the day of the eclipse, unaware that the world he knew would shatter before his very eyes.

He had never been meant for the throne, never the one to bear the weight of rulership upon his shoulders. That duty had fallen to his eldest brother, a warrior of unshakable resolve.

His other brothers, too, were formidable, commanders, strategists, and battle-hardened veterans who carried the Bloodstone name with pride.

Magnus, by contrast, had always been the weakest in terms of physical strength.

But his frailty had never been a burden, because his brothers had shielded him from the harshest parts of their reality.

They had carried the expectations of the royal family, while Magnus buried himself in books, magic, and healing. He had thought himself safe. But the academy had other plans.

A mission was issued, a purging. One of the most dangerous tasks assigned to the academy’s finest warriors.

Deep within the cursed forest that bordered Agartha, a portal had opened, one that led to a place shrouded in darkness.

The instructors believed it to be the remnants of an ancient experiment, a gateway to a realm that should have remained sealed.

The mission was to close it before whatever lurked beyond could escape into their world. All five of Magnus’s brothers were sent. And they never returned.

The eclipse hung over the sky like a great, watching eye as the academy received word of the disaster.

It was supposed to be a high-level mission, but the reports that came back were drenched in blood and terror.

The purge had failed. The darkness had consumed them. Of the elite forces sent into the cursed forest, only a third survived. Not a single one of Magnus’s brothers was among them.

He had remained inside the academy when it all happened, unaware of the horrors unfolding beyond its walls.

But when the survivors limped back, their bodies broken and their spirits crushed, he knew. His world collapsed in that moment.

Magnus stood frozen as the names of the dead were read aloud. The weight of reality pressed against his chest like a crushing tide.

He could not breathe. He could not think. The names echoed in his skull like an unending curse.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Gone.

He refused to accept it.

Even as the academy declared their deaths, even as the funeral rites were prepared, he could not believe that his brothers, his protectors, his blood, had perished.

It was unthinkable. They had been strong, stronger than anyone. How could they have fallen? How could they have been taken so easily by something they had never even understood?

No.

He would not believe it.

Magnus demanded to go to the cursed forest himself. His instructors forbade it, telling him that the mission was over, that nothing could be done, that he was too weak.

Weak.

That word had followed him his entire life. But this time, he did not listen. That night, he left the academy in secret.

The cursed forest was a graveyard of lost souls. The trees stood twisted and blackened, their bark scorched by magic.

The air was thick with something unnatural, a presence that slithered through the shadows. The deeper Magnus ventured, the colder it became.

He found them.

Or rather, what was left of them.

Their bodies had been torn apart by something far beyond mortal comprehension. Not beasts.

Not enemy soldiers. Not even dark magic alone. Their remains bore the marks of something far older, something ancient and insidious.

Something that had devoured them. His hands shook as he knelt before them.

His brothers, who had once been invincible, who had once stood tall and proud, were now nothing but lifeless husks beneath his trembling fingers.

And Magnus, the weakest among them, was the one who remained.

It was unfair.

Unjust.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms until blood dripped between his fingers. His grief was silent, but it screamed within him.

He was the healer. He was supposed to mend wounds, to bring life where death threatened to take hold.

But what good was healing when there was no life left to save? What good was all his knowledge when he could not undo what had been done?

Desperation clawed at his chest.

He could not let it end like this.

Magnus had read about resurrection magic before. Forbidden spells that dabbled in forces beyond the living world.

He had studied theories, memorized incantations, but he had never dared attempt them.

But now…

He had nothing left to lose.

Trembling, he began to weave a spell. The air around him crackled with energy as he poured everything he had into the incantation.

His mana burned through his veins, his body screaming in protest. He did not care. He would bring them back. No matter the cost.

The moment the final word left his lips, the ground beneath him trembled. The forest grew silent. The air turned heavy.

And then…

Something answered.

The shadows around him twisted, warping into unnatural shapes. A voice, low and distorted, slithered through the darkness.

“You call upon forces beyond your understanding, child.”

Magnus’s breath hitched.

“Do you wish to see your brothers again?” the voice whispered.

His throat was dry. He could not speak, but he nodded.

“Then offer yourself.”

His heart pounded.

“Give me your soul, and I shall return them to you.”

A cold wind rushed through the forest. Magnus’s hands trembled over his brothers’ lifeless bodies.

His soul.

His life.

If that was the price…

He would pay it.

But before he could utter a word, something shifted in the distance. A flare of golden light, breaking through the suffocating darkness.

A presence unlike any other.

And then…

“Magnus!”

A voice, familiar and filled with urgency, cut through the shadows. A hand grasped his wrist, pulling him back just as the darkness lunged.

Pain.

Magnus gasped, the spell shattering. The voices screamed in fury as the light consumed them, forcing them to retreat into the depths of the forest.

His body collapsed, his strength drained. But before he lost consciousness, he saw a face, one he never expected to see again.

His grandfather, Zecomiel Bloodstone.

Standing before him, radiating with an ancient power that should not have existed.

“Foolish boy,” his grandfather murmured. “You were about to sell your soul to something even death fears.”

And then…

Darkness.