When the scene shifted once more, Lucy found herself witnessing an entirely different existence—one marked by a cruelty unlike anything she had observed in his previous lives.
In this incarnation, he was a slave, bound in the oppressive darkness of the mines, extracting mana stones beneath the relentless sting of the lash.
It was not only he who suffered; every miner endured daily whippings.
Yet, it seemed he bore the greatest share of the torment, his back flayed until it was nothing but raw, unhealed flesh.
Day after day, he was forced to labor until his body could no longer sustain him. As with many of his lives, this one was tragically short.
He died in that cavern—quietly, without resistance, without anger—meeting his end with nothing but silent acceptance.
Almost instantly, another life began, as if death were merely the act of closing one book and opening the next.
And still, the visions persisted.
