Cycle of Destiny

Chapter 42 The Successor of Alexander

"So... no matter what I do, I'll eventually end up in that forest and get killed?" His voice was a little dry.

Xiao Bei looked at him, neither directly confirming nor denying. "The existence of some coincidences implies that certain things have a strong inevitability. But between these coincidences, there are vast variables. Everything you are experiencing, including our appearance, is to ensure that inevitable end is reached in a certain... specific way."

She tilted her head slightly, as if trying to express a concept that she herself might not fully understand, "My sister... she's extremely obsessed with ensuring the accuracy of the trajectory, even... somewhat angry. She believes that any deviation is unacceptable chaos."

Harry fell silent. He recalled the woman in the red robe's cold red eyes and her merciless torture, and that "anger" now seemed to have a chilling interpretation.

If his purpose in existence was simply to die, then perhaps the red-robed woman's harshness was merely because she was a strict "overseer"?

And what role does this gentle Bella play?

"Will I survive this time?" Harry's face was full of anticipation; he wanted to hear a reassuring answer.

But Beckham didn't give him a satisfactory answer: "Well, I don't really know either. All I know is that you have to go back to the capital."

Silence fell over the room, broken only by the steady glow of the oil lamp. Harry felt an unprecedented sense of bewilderment, but at the same time, a suppressed, defiant stubbornness slowly rose within him.

Even if everything was arranged, he still needs to know who swung the knife and why.

At least, before reaching that "inevitable" destination, he needs to see clearly the traps and the faces of the manipulators along the way.

Harry was processing the shock of the name "Alexander," but another related question immediately arose. He looked at the gentle, calm Bella in her white robes before him and cautiously began to speak:

"By the way. You and your sister... don't seem to have much... reverence for the Holy Mage Odel? In fact, your sister seems to look down on him?"

A genuine look of confusion appeared in Bella's pure white eyes as she tilted her head slightly.

"Respect? I don't quite understand why. But I know that my sister seems to... really dislike him." She said the word "dislike" with certainty, but then added, "But my sister didn't tell me the specific reason; I can only sense this emotion in her."

Hearing this explanation, Harry didn't press further. The woman in the red robe seemed to dislike everyone.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said softly, "I don't think I've been of much help to you."

Seeing her sincere apology, Harry felt a little disappointed but also somewhat comforted. At least, her attitude was completely different from that of Bellatrix the Red, who caused him unbearable pain at the slightest provocation.

"No...it's okay," Harry let out a long breath, wiped his face, and forced himself to cheer up, "at least you genuinely wanted to help me."

Hearing Harry say this, Bella in the white robe felt less guilty and a gentle warmth returned to her face.

“Then,” she suggested, her voice regaining its previous gentleness, “perhaps we can try a different approach? Although I can’t give you the answer directly, you can recall everything you remember—from being chosen by the Holy Mage to the last… final moment—and tell me everything. I can help you sort it out, and perhaps in the process of retelling, we can discover some details that we’ve overlooked. It’s always better for two people to think together than for one person to be trapped in fear.”

This suggestion brought a glimmer of light back to Harry's dim eyes.

Yes, he needs someone to help him untangle this mess! He's been thinking about it over and over again until his head is spinning, but he keeps getting sidetracked by fear and getting stuck in a dead end.

Having an audience, even if they are just listening quietly, can bring a different perspective.

"Okay!" Harry nodded immediately. He moved to the inside of the bed, sat up straighter against the wall, took a deep breath, and tried to bring his thoughts back to that seemingly glorious starting point.

"It all started that afternoon when the Holy Magician Lord Odel came to the academy..." He began his narration, his voice flowing slowly through the silent magic house, while the white-robed woman floating in the air listened quietly, her pure white eyes fixed intently on him.

Harry has a good memory, and since he had already told Bellatrix the story once, he spoke very smoothly this time.

When he spoke of the second time he received Nasus's congratulations, he described in detail how this time he didn't slap Nasus, but instead gave him a tight hug and said those words that were meant to express gratitude and emphasize friendship.

After finishing this part, Harry paused, looked at Bella in her white robes floating in the air, took a deep breath, and decided to voice the doubt that had troubled him for so long.

"I suspect that the person who killed me in the forest last time might have been instructed by Nasus." Harry's voice was low but clear.

“Nasus has every reason to hold a grudge against me,” Harry said. “Last time, I slapped him in public, which was a huge humiliation for someone of noble birth who values ​​his reputation. And from what I know of him, he is very jealous and not very magnanimous.”

He paused, then continued, "More importantly, I am now a disciple of a Holy Mage. If he feels that I will use this status to retaliate against him, or even if it's just my continued dislike for him, it could seriously affect his future prospects and development at the academy. This uncertainty and fear are enough to drive him to take extreme measures."

Harry then added his analysis of the feasibility of the assassination: "As for the ability, his family is perfectly capable of it. The last time I was assassinated, my magic robe was made of wood-light silk, and ordinary weapons and assassins couldn't possibly penetrate its defenses. But the attacker pierced it precisely with a single blow, reaching my heart. This efficiency and destructive power are definitely not something an ordinary robber could achieve; it's more like someone who has received rigorous training and specializes in this profession. Nasus's father is a nobleman; hiring or mobilizing such professional assassins would not be difficult for him."

Harry concluded, "So, Nasus has both the motive and the ability. He's the person I can think of who's most likely to want to kill me."

Bella in her white robe listened quietly, her pure white eyes reflecting Harry's serious yet slightly anxious face.

When Harry finished speaking, the gentle expression on her face didn't change much, except that her brow twitched slightly when Harry mentioned the word "kill me".

She tilted her head slightly, her long red hair cascading down her shoulder, and then asked softly, her voice tinged with an almost innocent confusion: "Will it really be him... to kill you?"

Harry paused for a moment at the question. He looked at Bella and saw that she was asking very seriously. There was no doubt in her white eyes; it was more like a simple inquiry about the complexities of human nature.

Harry paused for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts, before replying in a calm but certain tone: "Yes, Bella. Jealousy, especially jealousy mixed with resentment, fear, and conflict of interest, can absolutely drive a person to murder. In the human world, it's not uncommon for people to take another's life for reasons that may seem trivial to others—such as saving face, career prospects, or simply not wanting the other person to be better off than themselves."

Bella, in her white robes, listened quietly, her white eyelashes drooping gently, as if carefully considering Harry's words. Her suspended posture remained as stable as ever, but the soft aura surrounding her seemed to ripple slightly with her thoughts.

After a long while, she slowly nodded, her movements very gentle, carrying a sense of understanding. "I... understand," she said softly, her voice still gentle, but less sweet than before, carrying a hint of heaviness. "Jealousy... can kill."

At this moment, Harry noticed that the soft, milky-white aura around Beckham seemed to have dimmed a bit compared to before. Although her levitation posture was still stable, the sense of solidity seemed to have weakened considerably.

Little Beckham seemed to sense the change within herself as well, and she spoke gently, "Harry, I can't stay any longer. Maintaining a clear projection of consciousness and communicating like this is taking a heavy toll on my mental energy. I need to return to the gem to slumber and recover."

She looked at Harry, her voice still gentle: "If you have something particularly important to do, or encounter urgent danger, you can use your mental power to strongly call for me, and I will try my best to wake up. But normally, I need to remain still to maintain my existence."

Harry nodded solemnly. "I understand. Thank you, Beckham."

Xiao Bei smiled slightly at him, and the aura around her flowed and receded like ripples on water. Her figure quickly became transparent and faded, like a wisp of light dissolving into the air, and finally disappeared completely.

The room was left with only the steady but cold light of the oil lamp and the dark red gemstone pendant around Harry's neck that seemed unchanged but had already borne too many secrets.

Harry sat alone on the bed, his back against the cold wall. The questions and answers that had just ended echoed in his mind, each answer bringing more questions.

Why did he become the "successor"?

What exactly was his relationship with Alexander Langton?

What does "letting what has already happened happen" really mean?

Furthermore, will I be able to escape my fate of being killed this time I am reborn?

He looked down at the pendant on his chest; the dark red gemstone appeared deep and mysterious under the light.

Two souls slumber within: an angry being with Saint-level power, and a gentle but limited-knowledge level nine spirit.

He himself, a low-level mage who had just become a disciple of a holy mage but was then banished back to the capital, inexplicably became the center of it all.

Although these two sisters are powerful, they seem to exist primarily to monitor me. It seems that I will have to rely on myself to find out who wants to kill me.

Harry let out a long breath, feeling more exhausted than ever before.

But at the same time, that stubborn unwillingness to give up became even stronger.

Even if everything was already predetermined, he couldn't just passively accept it all; he had to find out the truth and find the person who killed him in the forest.