Holy Necromancer Rebirth Of The Strongest Mage

Lesley Hummer, my husband's sister, lies to me about being unable to conceive. She wants me to help her produce a child. To my shock and horror, my husband and mother-in-law agree with her! I refuse to give in, so they drug me and force me into bed with my her husband. When the pregnancy comes to term, I give birth to a daughter. My husband and his family go nuts because it's not a boy. They kill the baby before my very eyes! They even take away all my organs that can be exchanged for money. Then, they continue searching for a surrogate for Lesley. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day Lesley kneeled before me to beg me.

I accompany my husband, Michael Yates, to a stationed assignment on a remote island. Out at sea, a sudden storm hits. The ship capsizes and begins to sink. As the commanding officer, my husband gives the last life vest to his so-called godsister, Naomi Hollister. I don't cry or scream. I just watch silently as he carefully fastens the straps around her body. In my past life, I had clutched my pregnant belly and begged him for help. After a brief hesitation, he finally put the vest on me. But Naomi was swept away by the waves, and her body later washed up on shore. Only half of it remained. Michael insisted it wasn't my fault. He also said that saving me was his duty, both morally and professionally. He even took leave to stay by my side before I gave birth. But when my water broke in the dead of night, he pushed me into the sea. His eyes were bloodshot and burning with hatred. "Leah, if it weren't for you, Mimi would still be alive! Did you really have to force me to give you the vest when you were just pregnant? Couldn't you have waited a little longer? Why do you get to live? Go down there and die with her!" I drown, and fish tear my body apart. I die without even a full corpse left behind. And then, I open my eyes. I'm back on the day of the storm.

On the eve of giving birth, my world turned into a nightmare. My husband’s sworn enemy broke into our home, seeking revenge. I was brutally cut open and my baby was ripped from me. Yet, I made the chilling choice not to call my husband for help. In my previous life, desperate and terrified, I begged him to return home. He abandoned a Valentine’s dinner with a scholarship student to rush back. That night, the student was preyed upon in a bar, leading to her tragic suicide. My husband’s wrath was unrelenting. Blaming me for her death, he locked me in a kennel, leaving me to be savaged to death. “This is the pain Wynne endured because of you. Now it’s your turn to suffer!” Given a second chance, I resolved to make a different choice. This time, I let him stay for his romantic Valentine’s evening with her. But when I returned home, he had spiraled into madness.

I burned my painting right in front of the students and university staff. Thunderous applause filled the hall. Everyone thought it was some kind of performance. But my senior in the graduate program panicked. He rushed forward and grabbed my wrist, his voice tight. “Connor, have you gone mad? This is your only shot to prove yourself!” I shook him off, cold. A chance? That was his chance, right? During my past life, he stole the painting I poured my heart and soul into and entered it in the competition ahead of me. The composition, the colors, even my original technique… He copied all of it. He won the Gold Award for the National Youth Art Competition, signed with a top gallery, and basked in glory. Meanwhile, I was branded a shameless plagiarist. The insults and curses overwhelmed me completely. "Get out of the art scene already!" “A plagiarist like you should just die!” His fans stormed my studio, smashed my tools, and broke my right hand. With my world in ruins, I jumped off the studio roof. Opening my eyes again, I realized I had returned to the day my senior accused me of plagiarism.

My aunt has one leg amputated after getting into an accident. It's at this time that her beloved daughter chooses to leave the country. From that day onward, I care for my aunt like she's my own mother. We spend 15 years together. She's grateful for my care and promises she'll leave all her money to me after her death. However, my cousin returns to the country when my aunt is on the brink of death. My aunt goes back on her word and gives my cousin everything. She only gives me 50 thousand dollars as compensation for my "caretaking services". I've spent 15 years on her only to get 50 thousand dollars—it's such an insult. I'm so stunned by this that I trip and fall into a river. I drown. When I open my eyes, I've been taken back 15 years in time…

My boss gives me 200 thousand dollars in cash so I can pay his workers their salaries. I leave the house to buy some envelopes to put the money in, but that's when my father lends the money to our neighbor so they can buy a house. I question him about it, but he says I know nothing about forging relationships. Even my mother and brother blame me for not keeping my things properly—they say I'm dumb for leaving money lying around when I know my father likes to lend money to others. Later, my boss fires me but doesn't call the cops. All he wants is for me to repay him. To do so, my father finds me a high-paying job. It's only when I get there that I realize I'm supposed to be an old man's housekeeper. On my first day there, he violates me. I want to call the cops, but my father tells me to be forgiving of him. After that, the old man's daughter thinks I seduced her father and has me beaten to death. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day my father lent money to our neighbor.

I'm eight months pregnant when I suddenly faint on the train. My husband panics and cries for help as he kneels beside me. An interning doctor hurries to me. She doesn't bother checking my condition before saying, "The patient needs to undergo a C-section! We have to get the baby out now, or it might die of suffocation!" Then, she slices me open with a fruit knife—she doesn't take any precautionary measures before doing so. She takes my child out. I'm in so much pain that I don't even have the strength to scream. My blood flows everywhere. Yet, a photo of her holding my baby while standing in a pool of blood goes viral. People call her the prettiest doctor alive. My husband and his family are eternally grateful to her. They don't go after her for causing my death; they even make her my child's godmother! Meanwhile, I'm given a simple cremation. No one cares about me. After my death, all my assets go to my husband and his family. Only then do I hear my husband and the doctor talking to each other, sounding smug. "This plan killed two birds with one stone. We got rid of that woman and made ourselves out to be heroes!" That's when I learn the interning doctor is my husband's junior from high school. They got together when he accompanied me to my prenatal checkups! She failed her internship, so my husband came up with this idea—he wanted to use my death to boost her reputation and help her! Even my child eventually died under their "care". When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day we get on the train.

After my stepsister, Jennifer Nichols, died in a tragic accident, Julian Asher hated me for ten whole years. He was the youngest star attorney in Vaxton Bay. He was always calm and composed, yet he never once hid his disgust toward me. I gave up everything for him: my education, my family, my friends, even the inheritance I was meant to receive. I stayed by his side through the grueling bar exam and the brutal early days of his career. But all he ever said was, "Miley, if you really want to please me, go ahead and die." The only woman he ever loved in this lifetime was my stepsister. And I realized that far too late. It wasn't until a fire broke out unexpectedly in the courthouse archives and I was trapped upstairs that something changed. Julian ran in to save me. The blaze devoured everything in its path. In the end, he shoved me out of the rubble. The collapsing steel beams crashed down on him. Blood spilled everywhere. Outside the operating room, I fell to my knees, begging the heavens to let him live. Before he died, he left me one final message with the doctor. "Miley, I hope we never meet again in the next life." At his funeral, his mother slapped me hard across the face—again and again. "You're a cursed wretch. Killing Jennifer wasn't enough for you; now you've killed my son too. I never should've agreed to let Julian marry you." His father dragged me to my knees by my hair, forcing me to kneel. "This is all my fault. I was too soft-hearted. Julian saved you three times, and all you ever brought him was misery!" Everyone believed I was the reason Julian died. And deep down, I believed it too. In the end, I slit my wrists and took my own life—only to awaken back in university, at the very moment we was supposed to get engaged. This time, I made a choice. I would not chase after him again. I would step aside and let him be with the one he loved most—my stepsister, Jennifer.

My son accidentally ate peanuts and suffered a severe allergic reaction. I threw away all the anti-allergy medication in the house and even hung up when he called 911 for help. I watched helplessly as his airway swelled shut and he suffocated to death. In my previous life, when my son struggled to breathe, I immediately drove him to the hospital. After an intense rescue effort, he survived, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief. However, my mother-in-law stormed in, furious, accusing me of being a monster and blaming me for nearly killing him. I hurried to explain that he was fine. Yet, when I presented the doctor's report and discharge paperwork, I was horrified to discover that they had turned into a death certificate. My son, who had been resting safely in the ICU, was gone. He had somehow appeared in the morgue. Refusing to accept it, I checked the surveillance footage. However, the footage clearly showed that my son never left the operating room. Instead, it was just me, talking to myself the entire time. I had no idea what was happening. No one believed me. They locked me in a psychiatric hospital. In the end, as my condition worsened, a swarm of frenzied patients attacked me and tore me apart alive.

I lucked out, securing a guaranteed admission spot at Westbridge University—the one the real heiress throws away. Nicole Stewart drops out for love and runs off with the school's bully, shattering what should've been her perfect life. Meanwhile, I'm branded a thief, accused of stealing her place. However, I fight my way up to become a powerhouse in business and even marry her childhood sweetheart, Spencer Lowe. Yet, at the peak of it all, I open my eyes to find myself back to graduation day of senior year, right when I'm filling out my choices of colleges. A live barrage of comments flashes before my eyes. "That fake heiress, Gloria Stewart, is nothing but a thief. She stole Nicole's life!" "In her last life, Nicole actually dropped out of school to start a business with some school bully. She even gave her childhood sweetheart, who was her fiance, to someone else! Ugh, she's so stupid and pathetic." "Good thing Nicole gets a second chance. This time, the real heiress has awakened, so let's just see how miserable that fake heiress who stole her life becomes!" I just smile at the scrolling insults. Sorry, but I carve my own path. Nicole can be reborn a hundred times, and she still can't stop me from rising to the top.