My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!-Episode-845
Chapter : 1689
He didn't want to hurt her. But he couldn't lie. Lying now would be cruel. He had to sever the tie, cleanly and completely.
"I respect you, Rosa," he said gently. "I admire you. You are one of the strongest people I have ever met. But I do not love you. I never have. Not in the way you wanted. Not in the way I loved Jasmin. Not in the way I love Mina."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"And I told you to leave," he added. "I told you it was over. I asked for a divorce months ago. You refused. You thought you could force it to work."
I respect you.
It was the cruelest thing he could have said. Respect was cold. Respect was distant. Respect was what you gave an enemy general before you killed him on the battlefield. It was not what you gave a wife. It was not what you gave the woman who had bled for you.
"It was my choice," Lloyd continued, his voice regaining that infuriating calm. "And hers. We are adults. We made a decision. It has nothing to do with you."
He looked her in the eye, his gaze unwavering. "What does it matter to you, Rosa? You left. You chose the cold a long time ago. You built the walls around yourself. You cannot be angry that I found warmth somewhere else."
He took a breath and delivered the final blow.
"You have no jurisdiction here," he said. "Not over my heart. Not over my bed. And certainly not over my child."
The words echoed in the empty square.
No jurisdiction.
It was a logical statement. It was a legal statement. It was a factual statement. They were estranged. He had asked for a divorce. In the eyes of Lloyd’s logic, he was a free agent. He had followed the rules of his own mind.
But logic had no place here. Not anymore.
Rosa felt something snap inside her chest. It wasn't a metaphor. It felt like a physical ligament, the tether that held her sanity to her soul, had severed. The sound of it snapping was louder in her ears than the wind.
The pain of his rejection was absolute. But the dismissal—the idea that she had no right to be angry, that she was an irrelevant bystander in the destruction of her own life—was unbearable.
She looked at him. He looked so righteous. So sure of himself. He stood there in his worker's clothes, defending his mistress and his unborn child, looking at Rosa like she was the intruder. Like she was the villain in her own story.
The toxicity of her emotions reached a critical mass. The grief, the jealousy, the humiliation, the rage—they swirled together into a black, thick mud in her core. Her Spirit Core, which had been damaged on Mount Monu and hastily repaired, began to vibrate.
The pure, crystalline mana of the Winter Queen began to curdle.
"No jurisdiction..." she whispered.
Her voice sounded strange. Distorted. It sounded like two voices speaking at once—her own voice, and something ancient and cold from the bottom of the world.
The wind around her changed pitch. It stopped howling and began to scream. The snow falling from the sky turned grey, then charcoal black.
Lloyd’s eyes widened. He sensed the shift. The hair on his arms stood up, not from cold, but from the static charge of corrupt mana.
"Rosa?" he said, his voice losing its certainty. "Rosa, calm down. Look at your mana. It’s unstable. You are going into a Deviation. If you push this, you will damage your foundation."
"Unstable?" Rosa chuckled.
She looked down at her hands. Her skin was turning pale, translucent. Veins of black frost were spreading from her fingertips, crawling up her arms like living tattoos.
"No, Lloyd," she said, smiling. It was a terrible smile. "This is clarity."
She looked up. Her eyes, once the color of a winter sky, were darkening. The pupils expanded, swallowing the iris, turning her gaze into voids of abyssal cold. There was no white left in her eyes. Just darkness.
Her silver hair, the mark of her Awakening, began to bleed color. Darkness crept up the strands from the roots, a heavy, light-swallowing black. It wasn't her natural hair color returning; it was the color of a sunless void.
"You say I chose the cold," she said, her voice echoing with a metallic resonance. "You say I am a statue. Very well."
The ground beneath her feet turned black. The ice spreading from her was no longer clear; it was obsidian, jagged and razor-sharp. It looked like volcanic glass.
Chapter : 1690
"If I am the winter," she whispered, "then I will bury you."
Lloyd took a step back. He recognized the energy signature. It wasn't just rage; it was a psychological break. Her spirit was reacting to her emotional collapse, twisting her power into a destructive form. She was becoming a calamity.
"Rosa, listen to me," Lloyd said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "You are hurting yourself. This power... it will burn out your life force. Stop this. We can talk."
"Talk?" Rosa laughed. The sound shattered the windows of the nearby inn. "We are done talking. You used words to lie. You used words to break me. Now, I will use silence."
She raised her arms.
The clouds above swirled into a funnel, a black cyclone descending on the town. It looked like a tornado made of ink.
"You wanted to protect her?" she screamed, the voice now entirely alien, a chorus of frozen ghosts. "You wanted to protect the future? Then protect this!"
She slammed her hands together.
The transformation was complete. The woman he knew was gone. In her place stood an avatar of ruin, leaking dark fog from her pores.
She looked at the town around them. The workshops. The houses. This was his empire. This was what he cared about. He built things. He loved order.
"You like to build," she said, a cruel smile twisting her black lips. "Let's see what you can build from ash and ice."
She clenched her fists. The black cyclone above touched down.
A wall of black ice, ten feet high and moving at the speed of a train, erupted from her position in all directions. It wasn't just cold; it was physical. It tore up the cobblestones. It smashed through the market stalls, turning wood to splinters and canvas to frozen dust.
She rose into the air, hovering above the destruction, thousands of ice daggers forming around her like a halo of death. She pointed a finger at him.
The storm descended.
The transformation was terrifying to behold.
Lloyd Ferrum had seen many things in his two lifetimes. He had seen demons rise from the pits of the underworld. He had seen cities burn. He had seen the sky tear open. But he had never seen anything quite as heartbreaking, or as horrifying, as the woman standing before him now.
The woman he had known—the elegant, composed, albeit cold, Rosa Siddik—was being erased in real-time. In her place stood an avatar of absolute ruin.
The corruption of her mana was no longer subtle. It was visible. A dark, oily miasma leaked from her pores, turning the air around her into a toxic fog of freezing darkness. The pristine blue light of her Sovereign power was being strangled by veins of deep, light-swallowing black.
"You have no jurisdiction."
The words Lloyd had spoken replayed in Rosa’s mind like a broken record, a mantra of her own failure. They were the key that unlocked the cage of her darkest impulses. She had spent her entire life controlled by jurisdiction. She was bound by the laws of her ancient family. She was bound by the contracts she had signed with devils to save her mother. She was bound by the strict, suffocating expectations of high society.
She had followed every rule. She had been the perfect daughter. She had been the perfect spy. She had been the perfect victim.
And what had it gotten her?
Nothing.
It had gotten her a husband who looked at her with pity while he slept with her sister. It had gotten her a life of empty, cold perfection, sitting on a throne of ice with no one to hold her hand.
Screw jurisdiction, a voice in her head whispered.
It wasn't her voice. It was the voice of the black ice. It was the voice of the abyss she had touched when she fought the Demon King Bael on the mountain. It was the voice of pure, unadulterated power.
Power is the only law, the voice hissed. Pain is the only truth.
Her hair, once a shimmering silver that marked her Awakening, was now fully black. It wasn't the natural black of her youth; it was a mane of living shadows that seemed to absorb the sunlight, refusing to reflect anything. Her skin had turned marble-white, cracked with lines of dark energy like a broken porcelain doll that had been glued back together with tar.
She didn't look like a human anymore. She looked like a disaster given form.
"Lloyd," she said. The name was a curse on her lips.
.
!
Episode-845
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