Cyn whispered slowly, "Immortality."

Xyrene was watching every flicker of expression on his face, waiting for something, anticipation trembling in her voice. "Yes, Cyn… immortality."

What she didn't expect was Cyn's flat, bored reply:

"Bullshit."

Xyrene frowned, disappointment showing. "You don't believe in it eit—"

Cyn cut her off. "That's not it."

He spoke calmly, a faint mocking smile tugging at his lips:

"Immortality? Sure, it sounds beautiful. But what's the point of living forever while everything around you dies? Staying behind, alone, watching the world change, faces fade, names disappear… In the end, immortality isn't life at all—it's a very long prison."

He went silent, looking away for a moment, hiding the slight tremor in his voice, something within him contradicting his own words.

Because deep inside… he knew he was lying.

He wanted immortality desperately.

But he hated admitting he was willing to lose everything for it.

Something inside him had always pushed him toward it. Even in his old world, he had craved immunity from death. Maybe that was exactly why he ended up in this world.

To be free—free from everything human.

Death was a stain on humanity, one of its defining traits. If he wanted to shed everything human, he had to defy death.

But his answer… contradicted his desire. Well, he certainly didn't want Xyrene discovering that—not now, at least.

Cyn felt Xyrene's heartbeat rising against his right side, her breasts pressing lightly against him, a hint of anger hiding beneath the surface.

He asked, "So? What's with the sudden talk about immortality?"

He didn't give her the chance to answer, continuing as if he already knew where this was going—thanks to Kassal.

"Is this about the rumor circulating in the black market and the underworld lately? Wasn't the name… Cursed Pacts?"

Xyrene's anger gradually melted, replaced by a smile. "So you were informed after all. What do you think? Is it worth the struggle? Worth fighting for?"

Cyn remembered the last time he had asked Kassal whether he'd found the recipe for the dose of pain Extract yet. Kassal told him it would take months—maybe years—to uncover even a shred of information.

But the other rumor spreading through the underworld… that was different. Something valuable. Valuable enough to make nearly everyone fight for it—Church, Temple, noble houses, clubs, Scar-bearers, anyone with power or knowledge.

Kassal had explained what little he knew about the Cursed Pacts. Even he didn't fully understand them, but he knew one thing—

They belonged to one of the Seven Collections.

The Immortality Collection.

A set of seven weapons capable of granting true immortality to their wielder once a pact was formed. That was all Kassal could say.

It wasn't as if Cyn couldn't believe such things existed—not after everything he'd seen and survived. But there had to be a price. There was always a price. Immortality without sacrifice? Impossible. Otherwise, they wouldn't be called the Cursed Pacts.

Xyrene noticed he was sinking into his thoughts, so she interrupted:

"God's False Replica."

The name echoed in his mind.

"God's… False Replica," he whispered.

Xyrene smiled. "Yes. That's the weapon we're after—one of the seven Cursed Pacts within the Immortality Collection. It grants eternal life once you form a pact with it. And it doesn't stop there—it regenerates your internal organs, your physical frame, reconstructs your entire body. That's its primary function. Complex… but in exchange, it grants true immortality."

"Of course, only the seven weapons in the Immortality Collection have core functions. The rest simply grant immortality and nothing more."

"But even so, the appearance of a single one would change everything. We're talking about eternal life—real immortality."

She sat on top of him, leaning down, her violet hair cascading over him like a silk curtain, eyes locked onto his soul, a wide smile painting her beautiful face.

"Hm? What's wrong? You don't look thrilled. Don't you want eternal life? Immortality?"

Cyn suddenly grabbed her firmly by the hips, fingers sinking into her flesh.

"You know it all too well, Xyrene! There's always a price to pay—damn you! It's called the Cursed Pacts! Are you sure it's worth fighting for?!"

Xyrene lunged right back at him, nails digging into his neck, leaving red marks.

"Cursed? Cursed WHAT? You're the bearer of a Scar—you're more cursed than any damn object that grants immortality!"

Cyn smiled as he watched her furious expression. She was serious about all this, but seeing him dodge and play with words only made her angrier.

She steadied herself again and asked, "So? About your Scar—have you felt anything unusual since you woke up?"

Cyn lied casually. "I don't think so. Why?"

"There's something about your Scar… it feels alive. And I'm certain it's the key to the Cursed Pact. Or rather… the lock."

Cyn didn't understand and mocked her, "What now? Am I some kind of offering to sacrifice to this weapon or something?"

Xyrene licked his lips and cheek, smiling.

"No, silly. Remember when I told you that to form a pact with a Cursed Weapon, you need something specific?"

Cyn nodded slightly, licking the taste of her saliva from his lips. She continued:

"To create a pact, the person must carry a living Scar. A normal scar can't form a pact. Only one type can—a spiritual scar. Because it's alive. It contains your soul's imprint. Which means… the Scar is you."

Cyn felt lost, confused, unsure of most details. "What does that have to do with Scars? Don't pacts link with the wielder, not the scar?"

Xyrene smiled. "Impossible for you. You don't have a sacred Halo. Your body doesn't contain the energy needed to form a pact on its own. That's why you need a living Scar—it has the Scar-energy. It will form the pact for you and pass the immortality to you."

Cyn blinked stupidly. "Okay… that's new information."

Xyrene sighed lightly. "Unfortunately, we can't explain everything right now. We'll leave the rest for another time."

Cyn took her hands, as if refusing to let her leave. "Isn't this the perfect time?"

She looked at him—a single look—and he let go.

If she didn't want to explain more… well, he could always find someone who would.

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