The Death Mage Who Doesn't Want A Fourth Time Novels & Stories

"Congratulations, Lucian. You have completed the mission. I will soon depart. Before I go, I have a few gifts for you." One video after another played before my eyes. After I died in that world, Mavis sold off all her assets in a desperate attempt to bring me back to life. In the end, she was left with nothing. Even after losing everything, she failed to wake me. Because of my departure, everything I had given her was stripped away. Mavis soon got into another car accident. But this time, there was no one to shield her. She could only endure the agony of ruptured organs on her own.

His words carried a weight that seemed to crush any hope of immediate clarity. Forbidden magic. The mention of such a practice was enough to send cold shivers down one’s spine. I knew all too well the kind of magic he was referring to. Only the most powerful—or the most desperate—dared to resort to such practices. The mercenary’s death was no accident; it was carefully orchestrated to prevent any trace leading back to the person responsible. “Then what we’re looking for is an enchantress,” I murmured, my thoughts racing as I tried to connect the dots, forming a picture far darker than I had initially imagined.

It was the first time, in all my years in the werewolf world, that I completely broke. But the Witch's eyes held nothing but helplessness. She gently pried my hands away and led me into a small, dim room. In the center sat a grimoire. Its pages recorded the coming fall of my pack. "I can't help you." The light in my eyes died. "Why?" "Even if I save you now, the next crisis will be worse. More death. More destruction. This isn't fate — it's a curse." I didn't understand. We had won. We had beaten fate. Why was this happening?

"Your bloodline... they are the cowards. And now you will pay the price for their sins." I knew little of what he spoke about. There was a mage in each story of the Great War. Over the years his account had been changed, but in each one he had gone mad with grief after the death of his mate and killed himself, burying the imperial castle along with himself. The mage from the stories, if they were true, was long dead. But the man before me claiming to be him was way too powerful to have been an imposter. "How are you alive?" I demanded, blocking another blow from his scythe.

I hadn't hurt anyone, but why had I to see such inhumane images in the third year after my death? I floated down and looked at the tiny baby. This was the first time I saw that child. I didn't cry when I was killed by Vivian. I didn't cry when I watched Winston dissect me with his own hands. But now, my tears were falling without stopping. This child already had hands and feet. If I hadn't been killed by Vivian, this child would have been over two years old by now.

I say taking a sip of my water His surprise showed on his face, "No?" He asks "Death!" I shouted for my mate In the snap of a finger, he was standing beside me, "Mhm?" He looks at me "Can you like get your friend away from me please, this is harassment," I sigh taking another sip of my water "Ares," Death addresses the guy tiredly "How did she do that?" He asks Death "Well she's a Goddess and she already found her mate, so your magic doesn't work on her," Death tells him

But something about the phrasing felt off. ‘Think, Jade,’ Naila urged. ‘What did the mage say about truth?’ I closed my eyes, replaying the story in my mind. The girl’s sacrifice wasn’t what won the war—it was the power she channeled. Her act wasn’t about giving up but about empowering others. I stepped toward the second path. As I crossed the threshold, the symbols on the walls flared, and a new challenge emerged—a glowing riddle scrawled across the corridor ahead:

I stare at the lovely city of Manchester as I weigh my options. It’s either bankruptcy and death or marriage and coronation. I guess the latter isn’t much of a bad idea, only it is. Whatever the case, my father’s murders must pay. I have a secret after all, I can hardly die.

Brandon's voice broke the silence, "When I came to, the drugs should've knocked me out for hours. The moment I opened my eyes, Noelle was right by my side. Man, it gave me quite the jolt. "And how is she still standing? With her heart condition and all those extra shifts she's pulled this month, she should've been a wreck seeing me 'dead'." Aria chuckled mockingly. "That woman doesn't care about you. If she did, she wouldn't have just stood there without batting an eyelash." I smirked at their words. In my previous life, Oswin had actually gotten sick from their little game and ended up dying of pure rage. However, this time around, I was given a second shot at life. I would never fall for t

A line that destroyed everything and sadly never gave the results people truly wanted or results that they never expected. It was a misnomer honestly. They shouldn’t be called life force mages. No, they should be honest and call themselves necromancers. Because nothing was born from their magics. People and creatures always died for the sake of some temporary gain that was never really what they wanted. It was an endless pursuit of disappointment and unhappiness. He didn’t understand it and he was too disgusted by it all to even want to try.