Hate me, Miss Witch!

...

Over there, the little Silver Spirit, scissors in hand, was bustling about fervently with two pieces of fabric.

Being a diligent talent, Crimson, much like Shiayar, had an obsessive need to do anything they set out to do to the best of their ability. To be a qualified tailor, it even called out its best friend, Silver, and had the little white ferret use Moon Reading to help it simulate the fabric-cutting process repeatedly, fearing any mistake.

On the other hand, Shiayar turned his attention to the final matter: "To experience a real death."

The general course of action in the current Echo of History had been determined, but this riddle remained unsolved.

Since experiencing death is the condition for unlocking the 4th Soul Pact, Shiayar mused. Does that mean it might not be so easy for me to die now?

After pondering for a moment, Shiayar suddenly turned to the pair of Pet Beasts, fervently engaged in their tailoring, and said, "Crimson, strike me with your blade."

"CHIRP?"

"SQUEAK?"

Not only Crimson but also Silver stared at Shiayar with its ruby-like eyes, shocked. Could their master have succumbed to the pressure of that terrifying Shura Field and lost his mind?

"I'm not joking. I'm serious. Cut me now, but be gentle."

"CHIRP..."

Ultimately, she couldn't refuse.

Driven by the Soul Pact, Crimson was forced to carefully control its strength and unleashed a faint blade aura.

PFFT.

The blade aura pierced Shiayar's arm, creating a wound that was neither too deep nor too shallow, from which dark red blood gushed.

Although Shiayar's physical constitution had been considerably enhanced by the Soul Pact's feedback, and his self-healing ability had also improved, such a wound would normally take a day or two to heal on its own without a treatment-type alchemy serum.

However, the very next moment, Shiayar clearly saw the wound on his arm stop bleeding the instant it appeared. It then healed, scabbed over, and the scab fell off. In just three or four seconds, the wound had vanished, and even the scar was rapidly fading.

Observing everything happening to his body, Shiayar's pupils contracted slightly.

"Quick, Crimson," he urged. "Cut me again. This time, sever my arm."

"CHIRP? Has this man finally gone mad?" Crimson thought.

「Half an hour later, inside the room.」

Shiayar and his two Pet Beasts, Crimson and Silver, stared at each other, wide-eyed and at a loss for words. For a moment, they were all somewhat bewildered, unsure how to begin.

During that period, Shiayar and Crimson had made numerous attempts.

In the most extreme attempt, Shiayar had Crimson slice him in half at the waist, turning him into "Shi|ayar." This was the limit of what the treatment-type alchemy serums stored in his Spatial Pocket could heal.

Yet, even in such a life-threatening situation, his body, clearly severed in two, miraculously reassembled and healed itself within mere seconds.

In less than ten seconds, Shiayar was perfectly fine again, as if nothing had occurred.

This recovery speed even surpassed High-Speed Regeneration, the unique racial Skill of Element lifeforms.

But High-Speed Regeneration was supposedly a Skill enabled only by the unique traits of Element lifeforms, relying on the massive consumption of Magic Power. Once their Magic Power was exhausted, regeneration would cease.

However, Shiayar was certain his body was unequivocally one of flesh and blood.

Moreover, this self-healing ability, apart from the undiminished pain Shiayar still felt, seemed to require no expenditure. Whether it was life force, spiritual power, or Magic Power, there was no discernible loss. He could even actively control the speed of his body's regeneration...

It was preposterous. This was truly an undying body in every sense of the word.

This cheat-like self-healing ability reminded Shiayar of the immortal vampires, or the Blood Tribe, from various fantasy works in his previous life.

It was also strange. He had transmigrated to a genuine Western fantasy world where Races like Succubi, giant dragons, elves, and dwarves existed...

Yet, in the current timeline, Shiayar had never heard any rumors or news about the Blood Tribe.

However, within this Echo of History, Shiayar had found information about the Blood Tribe and the mysterious, elusive Millennium Castle.

So, it seems the Blood Tribe declined during this millennium, he thought.

These anomalies affecting my body can't possibly mean I'm not actually Human, but rather some last scion of the Blood Tribe, or perhaps a half-blood prince from some bizarre storyline, could they?

During the past half-hour, Shiayar had indeed entertained such speculations. Ultimately, however, after a series of tests, he dismissed that hypothesis.

He was not of the Blood Tribe—at least, not the traditional Blood Tribe as he understood them.

Garlic: ineffective. He ate an entire clove; it was quite fragrant and very appetizing.

Sunlight: ineffective. Shiayar had been exposed to the sun for an unknown amount of time on his way here.

Silver items: ineffective. He had held Crimson for a long time, petting the little Silver Spirit until its astral spirit body began to steam, yet he felt no discomfort.

As for crosses, Holy Water, and the like... well, Shiayar had just experienced all of those during his recent investiture as a Knight of the Sacred Hall, and none had any unusual effect on him.

After much thought, Shiayar could only bury this confusion deep within his heart.

However, given his current self-healing capabilities, he realized that "experiencing a real death" would be extraordinarily difficult to achieve.

...