I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

Chapter 482: The end of Julian

“I do not regret anything,” he murmured to himself, his voice low but determined. “Not one fucking thing.”

The Death’s figure didn’t move at first. Then came a low, hollow laugh—cold, mocking, as if echoing from the grave of time itself.

“Regret,” the being said, “is for those who believed they had a choice.”

He stepped forward, his robes flowing like smoke behind him.

“You speak of will as though it is your own. But what is man’s will, Julian Easvil?”

He paused for a moment before continuing.

“A flicker of rebellion sparked by illusion. A puppet pulling its own strings and calling it freedom.”

Julian, trembling to stay upright, locked eyes with the god. “You speak as if there is meaning to none. And yet here you are… arguing to make your point valid.”

Death smiled.

“Because even the void has a voice. Even nothingness demands to be understood. What is your conviction behind your words?”

Julian exhaled slowly.

“You call me a pawn,” he said, stepping forward despite the searing pain in his chest. “But I say I am greater than that.”

Death tilted his head, the air around him warping slightly—as if time itself hesitated.

“Greater?” the entity whispered with a grin carved from disdain. “What rubbish. Just admit it, Easvil. Your life—your rise, your power—was never yours. A leaf in the wind, given motion by gods too bored to let you rest.”

Julian chuckled in amusement. “I never said I had meaning,” he replied, “but what makes you so sure that you do?”

That made Death pause. His brow twitched—not in confusion, but irritation.

“Do you know who you are speaking to?” He growled, his voice laced with fury. “I am Death. I am the end, the finality that dictates everything. My presence itself is the meaning!”

Julian didn’t flinch. He stepped closer, eyes burning.

“To whom?” he asked.

The silence was thunderous.

“To stars that collapse? To corpses who cannot speak? Or perhaps to a universe too vast to notice your shadow?”

He gestured outward—to the world, to the flowers, to the trees, to all that simply lived, untouched by the shadow of death, unburdened by what was to come next.

“You call yourself meaning? You’re just the end to a story. You can never be fulfilling, never be beautiful as life itself.”

Death’s aura darkened.

“Watch your tongue, mortal.”

Julian smirked, shivering by the being’s aura but nonetheless excited.

“Why? Afraid of words? Afraid that your eternity is just a longer version of my mistake?”

Death raised his hand, and for a moment the world trembled.

But Julian kept going.

“I feared you once,” he whispered. “Now I see you. A god, yes—but still a prisoner. Bound by your own existence. Unable to change, to grow. You are infinite, but never new…never beautiful.”

A heavy silence followed, one that made the very air tremble.

Death’s eyes narrowed.

Then, without a word, his hand rose. The air around them fractured like shattering glass, reality itself bending to his will. The moonlight dimmed. Even the stars above paused, as though the universe refused to witness what was to come.

Julian stood tall despite the blood on his lips, despite the pain that wracked his body. His eyes never left Death’s.

Then—

With a flick of Death’s finger, time halted.

A spear of pure void—a black so dense it erased all light—pierced Julian’s chest.

There was no scream. No gasp.

Only a silent exhale.

Julian’s body froze, the rebellion still burning in his fading eyes. His heart stopped. The Supreme Energies scattered like frightened birds, and his body stumbled forward—lifeless.

The moonlight returned.

Death watched him fall, a strange mixture of awe and disdain in his eyes. “So fall the fools who mistake defiance for purpose.”

He turned and began to walk away.

“No matter how powerful, how ambitious, or how defiant one is…

In the end, all must bow before the gods.”

He paused for a breathless moment, his dark robes fluttering eerily in the breeze.

“After all—that is what it means to be absolute.”

Meanwhile,

In an unknown dimension beyond time and space, three colossal orbs hovered in complete stillness. The first glowed a dark crimson, its surface swirling with chaotic energy that exuded a dangerous, ominous aura.

The second shimmered a gentle blue, peaceful and deep like an ocean. Its presence felt nurturing—protective and loving. The third radiated a soft golden hue, calm and unwavering.

Its glow was stable, wise, and serene.

The three orbs remained in equilibrium, each one in its own eternal rhythm.

But then… it happened.

A fourth orb, small and previously dim, began to shimmer unnaturally. Its pulse quickened. A soft light at first… but in seconds, that light intensified, burning brighter than the three giants combined.

It was not warm. It was not cold. It was beyond understanding.

The orb expanded violently, and along with it, a silent scream pierced the fabric of this unknown space.

The crimson orb pulsed in irritation.

The blue one dimmed cautiously, and…

The golden trembled.

The small orb continued to grow, and within moments, its brightness made it impossible to tell whether the others still remained or if the balance itself had tipped.

And who else but Death who could feel the changes firsthand?

He had barely taken two steps when it hit him.

The tremor.

A shift so fundamental it made even the being of death… tremble.

He froze mid-step, his void-black eyes flickering with an emotion that was both rare and alien to him: surprise. The air around him suddenly cracked, and his own energy spiraled out of control as if it was rejecting its master.

“What is this…” he whispered. “I am Death. How can my own energy slip from my grasp?”

For the first time in eons, a bead of sweat ran down his face, trailing cold across skin that had never known warmth.

He turned, slowly, toward Julian’s lifeless corpse. Did he do this? Death narrowed his eyes. Then scoffed, lips curling into a dismissive sneer. “What could a mortal ever do…”

Still, the feeling did not fade. If anything, it intensified.

Just to be sure, Death stepped toward the body. He lifted a foot and kicked it once.

No reaction.

No aura.

“Dead,” Death muttered with relief. “Like I thought. Just a mor—”