Witchbound Villain: Infinite Loop
213 – The Original Sin

Finally, tomorrow was the weekend.

Well, technically, looking at the clock, it was already tomorrow. Past midnight.

Burn sat alone in the solarium, his painting propped against the far end of the room, staring him down like a silent judge. Then, the door creaked open.

“Caliburn?”

He knew that voice too well. Even if he were drowning in an ocean of sirens, each with the same melodic tone, he could pick hers out without a second thought.

Morgan plopped down beside him, leaning against him like she belonged there, fingers lazily tracing circles on his chest. “Everything’s ready.”

“That so?” Burn murmured.

Morgan nodded. “I’m ready for surprises—whatever nonsense flies out of Princess Blair tomorrow.”

“And what exactly is it this time?” he asked.

“A rather nasty curse,” Morgan said casually, as if discussing the weather. “It doesn’t just corrupt the soul—it twists the body and mind too. Even worse than the one that hit me in the regalia treasury.”

Burn exhaled sharply.

Morgan shrugged. “He’s probably planning to sacrifice part of his own soul this time. And more than an entire continent’s worth of corrupted mana.”

Burn hummed, tilting his head. “You know, I’ve always wondered—how does corruption even work? What is it, exactly?”

Morgan considered this for a moment before answering. “Like the stories of the abyss, it came out of nowhere. Countless years ago, the first Demon Lord discovered a new energy source—something other than mana.”

Originally, mana had been constant—an unchanging force, neither increasing nor diminishing. A perfect, renewable cycle. Use it, and in time, it returned to its original form.

“Like water,” Burn mused. It was a familiar concept. Rain fell, flowed into rivers, drained into the sea, evaporated, became clouds, and then—rain again. A closed, reliable system.

“But then,” Morgan continued, “deep underwater, he found something else. A different kind of mana—black, tangible, completely beyond the control of Vision or Force.”

Naturally, the first Demon Lord kept this little discovery to himself. He quickly realized that this new substance didn’t just sit there—it actively made people sick.

Worse, it came with an entirely different set of properties compared to normal mana. The more he investigated, the clearer it became—this wasn’t just some strange mutation of magic. It was something else entirely.

He traced the source, deeper and deeper, until he found it—a sealed chamber, hidden in the depths.

“A sealed chamber?” Burn raised an eyebrow.

Morgan nodded. “The origin of corruption.” She hesitated, then added, “Caliburn, what I’m about to tell you is something only two people in the world know—me and Romeuf.”

Burn blinked. “And you’re just… telling me?”

Morgan’s lips curled into a teasing smile, though her eyes held something more serious. “You’re qualified to know.”

Burn gave her a dry look. “How exactly? You’re the Original Saint, Romeuf is the Apostle, and I’m…” He gestured vaguely at himself. “What, your emotional support knight?”

“You’re my paladin.” Morgan leaned back, stretching. “Technically, Vlad and Isaiah would be qualified too, since they’re my cardinals, but I’d rather not dump this on them.”

Vlad was already neck-deep in running the vampire church, and Isaiah had enough on his plate with the moon.

“Ah, so I’m the lucky one,” Burn said, amused. “More qualified than them, apparently. And I suppose that means you think I can handle the burden?”

More than anything, the fact that she—the only person who truly understood what he already carried—was willing to give him even more weight to bear was… strangely flattering. There were things deeper than love, and trust like this was one of them.

Morgan exhaled, looking at him thoughtfully. Then she dropped the real bombshell.

“Romeuf wasn’t the first apostle.”

Burn blinked. It didn’t register at first. But then, the realization hit—Romeuf had never been called the first Apostle, because of the unspoken assumption that there wouldn’t be another. And he was never called the last either, because no one had ever held the title before him.

He was simply the Apostle.

“…He wasn’t the only one,” Burn muttered, frowning.

Morgan nodded.

“Do you know why I’m a Saint and not an Apostle?” she asked.

Burn didn’t hesitate. “Because God speaks to an Apostle. God never spoke to you.”

Morgan sighed, nodding again. “Not once. Never. God never talked to me. But just because you’re an Apostle doesn’t mean you’re incapable of sin. You can. I can. Every single creation can sin.”

“But if an Apostle did sin… it’d be different, wouldn’t it?” Burn’s gaze sharpened.

Morgan confirmed it with a solemn nod. “If an Apostle deliberately sinned—a sin so profound, so unforgivable…”

Corruption would spread.

“But the Apostle before Romeuf…” Morgan exhaled slowly. “He didn’t sin, Caliburn.”

Burn frowned. “Then why—?”

“I know he didn’t,” Morgan cut in firmly. “And yet, one day… he was accused of it. And corruption spread from his heart.”

It didn’t make sense. Burn stared at her, trying to wrap his mind around it. If the Apostle never sinned, then why did corruption appear at all? No—more than that—why did Corruption itself exist?

Morgan’s next words sent a chill down his spine.

“I know for certain because God told Romeuf the truth. God’s previous Apostle did not sin.” She paused, then said, with quiet finality—

“The Corruption came from another world.”

For the first time, Burn saw something flicker across Morgan’s face—grief, guilt, something heavy that had been buried deep for far too long.

She had never believed the previous Apostle was guilty. No, she knew he wasn’t. And yet, the evidence was damning. The corruption had spread nonetheless. In the chaos of betrayal, rage, and despair, she had done the unthinkable—she accepted it. She believed what the world told her.

By the time she learned the truth, it was too late.

He had already been sealed away.

Deep underground, beneath the ocean floor, under a small, unassuming stretch of sea—the border where the Luminus Kingdom met the Wintersin Empire, where the northern and southern oceans converged.

The same day she had first manifested her Vision.

Morgan swallowed, her voice quieter now, almost bitter. “I knew he never sinned. I knew he was falsely accused. And yet, because there was proof of corruption… I sealed him away anyway.”

And she hadn’t stopped there.

She drowned the land. The people who accused him. Herself.

“And when I was reborn,” she murmured, a faint, wry smile curling her lips, “I was no longer Saint Lucia Elle, Princess of Elysian.”

Her eyes darkened.

“I became Merlin’s daughter. His first disciple.

Morgan Le Fay.”