Elian pushed open the door to his cramped, noisy home.At once, his parents and siblings swarmed him with fake smiles.
"Elian, I want a new schoolbag.""Elian, did Damian give you any crystal cores?""Elian, did he confess to you yet?"
Voices piled on top of each other.Greedy. Expectant. Suffocating.
Elian frowned.He said nothing, just walked straight to his tiny room.Without Damian, his life would be better.
And across the city, as Elian clung to his ambitions, Damian opened his eyes in the quiet of his room.
Without Elian, for the first time in two lifetimes, he felt… at ease.
Life without Elian was lighter.No demands.No silent reproach.Only himself, his breathing, and the steady pulse of crystal energy.
He sat cross-legged, drawing power from a mid-grade core.This young body—unscarred, unbroken—drank in the energy greedily.All of it went to strengthen him, not patch up old wounds.
Experience from his past life guided him.No wasted effort.No useless detours.His focus cut sharper, his energy flowed faster—fifty percent more efficient than before.
Thirty crystal cores.That was all he needed to break the bottleneck that had trapped him for years.
It was bliss. Pure and simple.The training cleared Damian's head.For the first time since his rebirth, he planned his life.
Last life, his goal had been simple—love Elian.He gave everything.And in the end, Elian called him useless and threw him away.
He remembered the tide.The eastern outer zone had survived.In the Absolute Death Domain, he had felt it—life, fragile but unbroken.Life that endured because it was shielded by overwhelming power.
That was true strength.Not Elian's empty promises.Not love that could be discarded.
Now his goal was even simpler.
Become strong.Stay alive.And if he had the power—save who he could.
The image of those hollow-eyed children at the relief station surfaced in his mind. He didn't know their names or their fates. But he knew what it was to be powerless.
Strength to live.Strength to fight.Strength to endure.Strength to offer others a chance at life.
This time, without Elian, without chains—his life was his own.And he would live it well.
Love was over. Survival remained.But within survival, there was still room for redemption.
Elian, meanwhile, sat on the edge of his narrow bed, fingers twisting in the blanket.The memory came unbidden—the last corpse tide.Damian, drenched in blood, standing in front of him.Holding the line with a body that could barely stand.
The helplessness. The despair.He never wanted to feel that again.
What he needed was someone strong enough to carry him out of danger.Not a "good man" who would only drag him down to die together.
In one month, he would meet Cassian D'Armand.Perfect. Noble blood. Dazzling strength.Everything Damian was not.
This time, he would choose differently.He had already refused the wrong person. Next time, he would not.