Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 155

Chapter 155: Not the End (Special Chapter)
Magnus did not return to the academy immediately.

He spent three days in solitude, hidden within the dense, mist-laden forests near Riverenda, pouring over the ancient texts, tracing every symbol in the grimoire, searching for a loophole.

The ritual was explicit, a willing sacrifice was needed to sever the curse entirely, but Magnus refused to accept that fate.

He would not trade one life for another. He would not become the very thing he fought against. There had to be another way.

On the fourth night, under a sky heavy with storm clouds, he knelt within a circle of sigils carved into the damp earth.

The Eclipse Shard pulsed in his hands, shifting between light and darkness, resisting him. The power within it was not meant to be wielded lightly.

It was a fragment of something beyond mortal comprehension, a force neither wholly divine nor entirely cursed.

If he miscalculated, if he faltered for even a second, the consequences could be catastrophic. His hands shook as he traced the final rune in the air.

The moment the symbol completed, the ground beneath him trembled, the very fabric of the world recognizing the invocation of something ancient.

The air crackled with energy, and a deep hum resonated through his bones. The abyss had followed him, whispering in the wind, urging him to reconsider.

But Magnus had made his choice. As he placed the Shard at the center of the ritual, he spoke the words in a language that had not been uttered for centuries.

The sky above split open, revealing a swirling void of light and shadow, a reflection of the artifact’s power.

The trees around him groaned as if straining against the weight of what he was summoning.

Magic flared from his fingertips, arcs of golden energy surging into the sigils, locking the spell into place.

A presence stirred within the Shard, something vast and watchful. It pushed against his will, resisting his command.

Magnus gritted his teeth, his body wracked with searing pain as the energy lashed back at him.

The spell demanded balance. If he was not offering a life, then he needed to give something else, something of equal worth.

He forced his mind to focus, anchoring himself in sheer determination.

Then, he understood. It was not about destruction. The Shard was not meant to break the cycle through sacrifice.

It was meant to contain. To bind. The very nature of the academy’s curse had been one of endless repetition, death, rebirth, suffering, but Magnus could limit it.

He could impose a ban, a restriction that would sever the academy’s connection to the darkest aspects of the ritual.

He could make it so that the cycle would no longer demand so many lives.

Sweat dripped down his brow as he pressed his palm against the Shard. He spoke the final command, his voice barely above a whisper.

The spell surged outward. A wave of golden light exploded from the artifact, rushing toward the academy with the force of a raging storm.

Magnus felt the energy rush through him, an overwhelming tide of power that threatened to burn him from the inside out.

His veins turned to fire, his vision blurred, his heartbeat pounded in his ears.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the power settled. The Shard grew still, no longer shifting between light and darkness.

It had been altered, rewritten by his will. The spell was complete. The binding had been made.

Magnus collapsed onto the forest floor, gasping for breath. His body ached, and his limbs felt heavy, as if the very act of standing was beyond him.

He turned his gaze to the sky, watching as the rift above sealed itself, returning the world to silence. He had done it.

When he finally returned to the academy, dawn was breaking over the horizon, painting the ancient towers in hues of gold and crimson.

The air felt different, lighter, though still tinged with the weight of old magic.

As he stepped past the academy gates, he felt the shift in the wards, the way the magic recoiled at his presence before bending to accept him.

Inside the halls, whispers had already begun to spread. Something had changed. The air no longer carried the oppressive weight of unseen eyes.

The shadows still lingered, but they no longer reached hungrily for the living. The spirits that had once wandered aimlessly through the corridors were silent.

Magnus moved through the academy with purpose, making his way to the Forbidden Library once more.

The book he had stolen before was still there, untouched, its pages filled with histories soaked in blood.

He flipped through the records, his eyes scanning for any sign of what he had just done.

And then he saw it.

The records of the academy’s founding, once written in absolutes, had shifted. The cycle of death was no longer immutable.

The names of those fated to die had blurred, no longer set in stone. He had lessened the toll. The academy would no longer devour so many souls. The curse was weakened, restrained.

It was not a perfect victory. People would still die. The academy was still built on blood, its foundations still bound to the darkness of its past.

But now, there was choice where before there had been none. Now, the deaths would not be dictated by fate but by circumstance.

Magnus let out a slow breath, closing the book. It was not the end of the war.

There would still be those who sought to unravel his work, to reclaim the old ways of sacrifice and suffering. But for now, he had bought them time. A reprieve.

He stepped away from the desk, his fingers brushing over the Shard that now hung from a thin chain around his neck.

It was no longer the same artifact it had been before. It was bound to him now, its power woven into his very being.

He could feel it, an ever-present hum beneath his skin, a connection to something greater. It would guide him, warn him, and if needed, it would protect him.

He had rewritten the story.

And he was not finished yet.