A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 86: Future of Each Individual (1)

Chapter 86: Future of Each Individual (1)

Not far from the capital’s city center lay a prime piece of land, complete with a lake, streams, and even a mountain in the background. The Yukline mansion sprawled across it, vast—almost excessively so. With the recent surge in land prices, the mansion alone could have easily funded a small territory’s annual budget. This was no mere exaggeration.

Even Yulie, who had taken pride in purchasing a three-story mansion near the capital on her own, thoroughly enjoyed her time at the Yukline mansion. Her morning jogs included a few laps around the mountain at the back, the training grounds were spacious enough for worry-free practice, and the mansion’s meals rivaled those of a three-star restaurant.

While Deculein upheld strict standards for the mansion’s vast grounds, I was indifferent to what the servants did, as long as everything remained orderly. Consequently, I often approved their requests for imported goods.

The servants, ever watchful, discovered exotic pottery, tableware, coffee beans, foods, flower seeds, and carpets from distant lands and had them brought to the mansion under the Yukline name.

Thanks to their efforts, the gardens and orchards bloomed with the world’s most beautiful flowers and trees, the mansion overflowed with charm and fragrance, and the clear lake and streams became the perfect summer retreat. Yulie had a particular fondness for the lake, often lying on the lawn with her new pet, Cacao, when she wasn’t inside the house.

This place, with its luxurious comfort and unassuming abundance, drew people in effortlessly. Anyone who visited, even for a short while, couldn’t help but admire it—a paradise so alluring it was almost like a Venus flytrap. This was the Yukline mansion.

“Basic physical strength was the foundation of martial arts,” Yulie said as we stood in the mansion’s training grounds.

Instead of her usual armor, she wore a gray tracksuit for a change.

"Therefore... Is something the matter, Professor?" Yulie asked, tilting her head slightly.

I shrugged and said, "It’s rare to see you out of armor, and this is what you’ve chosen to wear?"

“Ah, I see,” Yulie replied, tugging at her outfit. “I’ve had this since my days with the knights. It’s well-made, crafted with Fumeren. It will easily last another twenty years.”

“Indeed. One day, I should tear it apart and dispose of it.”

“No! Why would you tear it?” Yulie protested, quickly returning to the main topic as she gripped a wooden sword. “As I was saying, basic physical strength is crucial in martial arts. First, let me demonstrate. This is the simplest spinning move.”

With a swift motion, she slashed twice—first diagonally across the front, then pivoted to strike behind her. The movement was so seamless it appeared as if she were in two places at once.

“A spinning move, also known as a Spin-mooove.”

“Spin-move.”

“Spin-mo~oove.”

“... Spin-move.”

“Hmm. Though it’s a basic move among knights, it places significant strain on the waist and knees,” Yulie explained as she handed me the wooden sword. “Without proper physical conditioning and muscle strength, the risk of injury is high.”

I took the sword and repeated the motion.

Swish—swish!

It felt exactly like how Yulie had done it. She blinked, a brief moment of confusion passing over her face.

After a pause, she spoke again, “Try it once more.”

Swish—swish!

I repeated the move exactly as before. Yulie’s expression flickered with confusion once again.

Yulie glanced at the curriculum script she had left under the tree and said, “You seem to be performing it well... Please, try it one last time.”

I performed the spin-mo~oove once more, exactly as she had asked.

When I noticed the third flicker of confusion in her eyes, I finally said, “You must admit it—I’m capable of this.”

“... You may replicate the move, but you are at significant risk of injury.”

“I will not sustain any injuries.”

“You may believe that, but the risk of injury remains high.”

“Must you echo yourself?”

“That is why developing basic physical strength is essential,” Yulie said, her forehead beaded with sweat. She likely assumed I was as frail as any other mage and intended to start with the fundamentals. “Today, we will begin with running. Are you prepared?”

“Yes.”

“Alright! Let us proceed,” Yulie said, starting to run. I followed closely behind.

One-Two, One-Two—

Yulie set a steady pace, and I kept a few steps behind, matching her stride.

One-Two, One-Two—

One-Two, One-Two—

Yulie glanced back at me and remarked, “You are maintaining the pace well.”

“Indeed.”

“Excellent. Continue at this pace!”

We kept running. I wasn’t certain how my stamina measured up to that of a knight, but the Iron Man attribute was highly advanced, and I had not neglected my training...

“Are you maintaining the pace?” Yulie asked, glancing back.

“Yes.”

“Hmm, very well. I shall increase the pace slightly.”

“Go ahead.”

Impressed by how well I was keeping up, Yulie increased her pace, as if determined to outdistance me.

One-Two, One-Two— One-Two, One-Two—

One-Two, One-Two— One-Two, One-Two—

We had completed nearly ten laps before I even realized it.

“... Professor, are you still holding up well?”

“Indeed.”

“Oh...” Yulie murmured, clearly astonished that I was still maintaining the pace.

I noticed that the basic stamina from my Iron Man attribute had significantly improved, likely because my quality of mana had advanced to level four.

“Shall we stop for now?” Yulie inquired.

“No. I am fine,” I replied.

“... Alright.”

We resumed running, now at nearly full sprint. I soon lost count of the laps we had finished. Glancing at Yulie, I saw she was sweating and looked strained. It became clear that, with a heart injury, the greatest challenge lies in basic endurance, particularly cardiovascular stamina. I chose to stop running.

“Let’s stop here. I’m feeling fatigued,” I said.

“... Are you certain?” Yulie asked, forcing a bitter smile as her expression darkened. She appeared dissatisfied with her own condition. “Your basic stamina is impressive, Professor. You must have been diligent in your training.”

I watched her in silence. In that moment, with sweat glistening on her skin, she looked even more beautiful.

“... Yulie, you are a knight, correct?”

“Yes, that is correct,” Yulie replied, tilting her head slightly at my obvious statement.

I offered a slight smile and said, “I aspired to be someone who could stand as your equal. That is why I worked so diligently.”

“... Ah,” Yulie murmured, her mouth snapping shut as she stood there, momentarily speechless.

Though she remained quiet, her hair seemed to lift, and a blush crept across her ears. The sight was very endearing.

“I was merely joking. I did it to survive.”

“... Y-yes. I understand.”

Though it was true—I had trained to survive—Yulie’s cheeks were already flushed, her face touched with a rosy glow.

“Let us go and eat.”

“Okay...”

I entered the dining room first, and Yulie trailed behind me, her steps hesitant.

The chef detailed the morning’s offerings, saying, “Today’s breakfast features shrimp—”

Yulie cast frequent glances my way throughout the meal.

“Dessert is served,” a servant announced after breakfast, bringing out Civet coffee.

Yulie’s eyes brightened as she took in the sight of the high-quality beans.

“Oh, thank you so much, as always~!” Yulie said, sipping slowly and savoring each taste.

A smile tugged at my lips as I watched her.

“Yulie, it is time to prepare. There is a lesson at the Imperial Palace today.”

“Yes, understood.”

It was time for her to resume her escort duties. Yulie’s expression hardened, embodying the fierce focus of a lioness.

***

In the grand hall of the Imperial Palace, the Empress's Council Meeting gathered—a particularly tiresome tradition. Sophien sat on her throne, looking down at the ministers, her hands heavy with the petitions they had submitted.

“Your Majesty, we are concerned about the potential issues that may arise from opening Marik. It would be prudent to reconsider the decision while there is still time.”

“The handling of the Scarletborn is timely, Your Majesty, and for now, our attention should be solely directed toward them.”

“Your Majesty, suppressing the Scarletborn will inevitably provoke resistance, and should chaos erupt in Marik, the Empire will face turmoil both within and beyond its borders—”

Sophien’s head pounded. She was sick to death of listening to those damned fools. The frustration was so overwhelming that she felt she might commit suicide on the spot.

“The decision to open Marik is final. I will hear no further discussion on the matter,” Sophien commanded.

“That is unacceptable, Your Majesty!” the ministers cried out in unison, making a vein throb on Sophien’s forehead.

They went on about how the late Emperor would never have dismissed the petitions of his ministers so easily... that if adventurers recklessly disturbed Marik, demons might arise... and so forth. Their words ran together in a senseless ramble.

At that moment, Keiron stepped forward and whispered, “Your Majesty, Deculein has arrived.”

As soon as she heard this, a sly smile spread across Sophien’s face, and she commanded, “Enough! It is time for my lesson. Be gone at once!”

“That is unacceptable, Your Majesty! No final decision has been made—”

“It is time for my lesson in the Runic language. Are you not all aware of what Deculein is teaching me?”

The Runic language was Sophien’s ultimate weapon. On the days of her lessons, the ministers did not dare to interfere.

“Or are you suggesting that I squander this invaluable lesson time? Can you bear the consequences? We are discussing the Runic language. Do you even grasp its significance?” Sophien said, her voice cold and commanding, cutting through the room and silencing the ministers. Satisfied, she rose from her seat. “I am leaving. This council is adjourned.”

“You have arrived,” the Empress said, her voice laced with authority. In the Imperial Palace’s Hall of Learning, she welcomed Deculein with a rare smile.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied.

“Today, I endured a truly fucked-up meeting. It was one of those damned traditional Empress’s Council Meeting that I couldn’t avoid. Those bastard ministers kept prying into everything, seizing on my every word. It was utterly nauseating.”

“I understand. Now, let us begin the lesson. Today’s Runic word is ??????,” Deculein said as he took his seat, his tone steady. The Empress’s gaze sharpened like an axe. “Repeat after me, ??????.”

“Be.”

“Not Be, but ??????.”

Sophien rested her chin on her hand, sighing through clenched teeth, her gaze fixed on him, unmistakably filled with ennui.

“??????,” Deculein repeated.

“... Yet, Deculein, you never inquire about my policies, do you?” Sophien remarked.

“Your Majesty.”

“All you ever do is prattle on about that damn Runic language.”

Worn out by the ministers’ relentless pestering, Sophien lost interest in the lesson. Noticing this, Deculein focused on her words instead.

“The ministers were eager to know why I decided to open Marik. They would have opposed it regardless, yet they hypocritically welcomed the crackdown on the Scarletborn...” Sophien paused, her gaze dull as she turned to Deculein. “What is your assessment of my policy, Deculein? Why do you think they oppose the opening of Marik?”

The Empire's ministers had their reasons for opposing the opening of Marik. Even after the gates were already open, they made desperate efforts to seal them once more.

Without hesitation, Deculein responded, “The supply of mana stones is already sufficient. They likely question the need to risk opening Marik. Their objections are not without merit.”

Sophien’s face grew taut, a crooked expression curling at the edges of her lips.

“Hmph. Is that so? It seems you’re not so different after all,” Sophien said, leaning back in her chair, disappointment evident, but Deculein pressed on with a measured tone.

“However, something is amiss. How can the supply of mana stones remain sufficient? The mines are finite, and they have been exploited for centuries,” Deculein said.

Sophien’s brow furrowed, her interest piqued once more.

“Logically, these mines should have been depleted long ago, yet mana stones continue to emerge. The merchant guilds attribute this to advancements in mining technology.”

As Deculein continued, Sophien leaned forward slightly, her interest clearly awakened.

“Furthermore, these guilds control not only the prices but also—”

“They control the supply as well. The three major guilds—Rophalasia, Vermonia, and Crumacto—are the ones responsible. This is why the late Emperor maintained amicable relations with them,” Sophien declared.

Deculein nodded, and Sophien, who had been reclining with a hint of arrogance, leaned forward and continued, “An Emperor yielding to mere merchants. It is absurd.”

Sophien had a clear understanding of the Empire’s inner workings. More than 70% of the mana stones distributed by these powerful guilds actually originated from the Altar, an ancient, untouched region akin to the Land of Destruction, where mana stone mines had endured for millennia.

“Indeed, Your Majesty.”

Sophien studied Deculein closely, anticipating his next words.

“But once Marik is opened, countless mana stones will be mined, bypassing the merchants’ networks entirely. Control over them would rest solely with the Imperial family,” Deculein concluded.

“As a result, those fucking bastards are in a full-blown panic. The mana stones from Marik are a deadly threat to them. That’s precisely why the ministers who’ve been bought off by those assholes are raising hell,” Sophien remarked with a smile.

Deculein mirrored her smile and responded, “Indeed. The opening of Marik is a strategic move to consolidate Your Majesty’s power. Moreover, should a member of the Scarletborn be among the guild leaders—”

“Yes, there is undoubtedly a Scarletborn among them. I am aware of that. And I also know that by crushing the Scarletborn, the Altar will eventually be exposed,” Sophien declared.

“The Empire's most formidable enemies are not external but internal,” Deculein remarked.

“That is precisely what defines an Empire.”

The dialogue between Sophien and Deculein flowed as though they were of one mind. For Sophien, this moment of shared understanding was uncommon, but the core issue still lingered. If Deculein failed to fully comprehend it, he would not meet her expectations.

“Despite knowing all this, Your Majesty, you still declared your intent to launch an expedition into the external Land of Destruction rather than addressing the internal threats.”

Sophien was fully aware of the internal threats, yet she directed her blade outward, toward the Land of Destruction. The reasoning behind her decision was slowly becoming evident to Deculein.

Unusually eager, Sophien couldn’t wait for him to continue and proclaimed, “Yes, the mana stones are only the beginning. Once the flames of anxiety consume those Altar dogs, I will personally declare the expedition to the Land of Destruction.”

“Given that the Altar is the stronghold of the Land of Destruction, they will inevitably feel threatened,” Deculein replied.

“When threatened, those vermin will respond in a predictable manner,” Sophien said.

“They will likely strike at the Empire, perceiving it as vulnerable with its forces engaged in the expedition,” Deculein followed.

“... Then, at that moment—”

Sophien met Deculein’s gaze and saw in his eyes a complete grasp of her plan. His blue eyes were clear and as striking as crystal.

“They will be slaughtered.”

“I shall slaughter them all.”

Their words, nearly spoken in unison, brought a rare smile to the Empress’s lips. For Sophien, the embodiment of ennui and lethargy, such insights were as natural as breathing. Her wisdom was innate... and perhaps, Professor Deculein shared this same quality.

“Indeed. But I informed you of my plan to conquer the Land of Destruction from the very beginning. Why, then, did you not share this audacious scheme with anyone?” Sophien inquired.

“If I had, I would have become Your Majesty’s enemy. Though I suspect that was precisely what you hoped—that I would betray you.”

“... Oh? It seems you know me all too well.”

Deculein nodded, fully aware that this was merely a part of the storyline of the game.

“Heh,” Sophien chuckled.

Sophien frequently tested people around her, and thus far, only two had successfully met all her challenges—Keiron and Deculein.

“So, allow me to inquire, Your Majesty—what is your true objective? Is it simply to fortify the throne and eradicate the Altar?”

Sophien’s smile disappeared almost as soon as it formed. The sense of satisfaction she derived from Deculein’s understanding faded within minutes.

“I cannot say,” Sophien replied, reclining in her chair, her expression steeped in deep melancholy. “I truly do not know.”

Her quiet murmuring was met with a response that felt like an answer to her lament.

“Then let us seek it out together,” Deculein said.

For a moment, Sophien questioned her hearing. The idea of someone suggesting they work together was entirely foreign to her—something even Keiron had never dared. As she looked at Deculein, she perceived an unexpected sense of duty emanating from him.

“Our lessons will guide us toward our objective.”

Sophien’s ennui posed a challenge to Deculein and the entire world, yet even the Empress found herself at a loss. She stayed silent, while Deculein held his ground. Finally, Sophien waved her hand in dismissal.

“Enough. You may go. Even your face has begun to tire me. You've endured longer than most, but next time, consider arriving in disguise.”

“Our lesson is not yet finished. Repeat after me, ??????.”

“... What?”

“??????," Deculein repeated, unyielding.

The Empress, shaking her head, yielded and repeated, “??????.”

Then the Runic word activated—flight. The entire space began to rise and float. Pleased with the result, Deculein stood.

“Excellent work, Your Majesty.”

“Yes. Now, go.”

In the Hall of Learning, where Deculein, the Instructor Mage, had just departed, Sophien lay on the hard floor, gazing up at the ceiling.

Sophien murmured, “Not a single word he spoke was false.”

People often slip into unconscious falsehoods, empty flattery, or automatic denials and affirmations. But Deculein was free of such weaknesses.

“He knows everything. If an encyclopedia took human form, it would be him.”

Sophien was captivated by Deculein’s unshakable confidence. He grasped his thoughts, his plans, his reasoning—everything with absolute clarity. From the moment of their first meeting, when she declared her intent to conquer the Land of Destruction, he had understood her completely.

“And that presumptuous talk about helping me find my purpose... Keiron, you heard him too, didn’t you?” Sophien said, lowering her gaze from the ceiling to look at Keiron, who was grinning. “What’s so funny?”

“It was nothing, Your Majesty,” Keiron replied.

“What is it?”

“When will you get married?”

"... Keiron, are you seeking execution?” Sophien’s glare pierced through her knight. In her current state of lethargy, anger was a rare but palpable emotion. “If your intent was to provoke me, you’ve succeeded. Congratulations. This task is now yours."

“That’s not the case, Your Majesty. The ministers are expressing their concerns.”

“Those fucking idiots.”

Sophien appeared to be in her early twenties, the prime age for marriage. Of course, she had likely lived twice as long, but physically, she remained as youthful as she seemed.

“No man exists who can handle me,” Sophien declared.

Keiron remained silent.

“What?”

Keiron simply glanced at the closed door, and Sophien quickly grasped his meaning.

“Deculein?”

Keiron remained silent once more.

“You are completely out of your damn mind. I have no intention of taking what belongs to others.”

"Did I speak just now, Your Majesty?"

"Your insight is growing, Keiron. Quite surprising for a knight," Sophien said, sarcastically.

Keiron only shrugged in response.

“You're becoming a nuisance. You may leave now.”

"Yes, Your Majesty," Keiron replied, leaving without delay.

After dismissing him, Sophien quietly mused, “Deculein, huh.”

Deculein saw the world in much the same way as Sophien, which explained his demeanor. When surrounded by fools, frustration and cynicism naturally followed.

“Perhaps it’s a relief that I’m not entirely alone,” Sophien remarked with a smirk.

At least she had discovered someone she could truly consider a kindred spirit. Though she had hesitated before, now she was sure. This newfound certainty brought her a sense of contentment, and for Sophien, that was all she needed.

“Haha. That arrogant fool. Helping me find a purpose? Lessons for that?” Sophien chuckled softly, reflecting on their earlier conversation.

An hour later, the thought no longer held her interest. For Sophien, an hour was a notably long time to dwell on anything.

***

Meanwhile, Epherene readied herself for the journey ahead.

"A towel, toothbrush, soap, shampoo, emergency rations, a review book, and..."

Epherene halted, her eyes growing wide as they settled on the most important item.

"Roahawk!"

The four pieces of Roahawk meat, a gift from Julia’s father, were Epherene’s most treasured provisions. She planned to grill and eat them during the most exhausting and discouraging moments of the exam.

"Well... it’s time to go," Epherene murmured, taking a deep breath as she shouldered her backpack and stepped out of the dormitory.

Epherene stopped by the administrative office to send a letter to her sponsor, then wandered around the campus. The weather was predictably gloomy, characteristic of the rainy season.

"I wondered when they would get here..."

Under the clock tower in the courtyard, Epherene waited at the appointed spot. She was planning to visit the Floating Island today with a friend.

"Miss Epherene, over here~" came a soft, timely call. It was Lethe, the head maid, seated in the driver’s seat, gently honking the horn.

"Yes!" Epherene responded with a bright smile as she settled into the back seat. Sylvia, already seated inside, wore a displeased expression but made no move to stop her from boarding.

"Sylvia, let’s give it our all. I want to reach level three, too."

"... Arrogant Epherene."

"Hehe."

The day never felt like it truly began for Epherene until Sylvia spoke those words. Epherene laughed heartily, while Sylvia, giving her a look as if she were some sort of weirdo, shifted closer to the window.

"Alright, here we go~," Lethe said.

"Yep!"

They began their journey to the Floating Island.

Vroom—

As the landscape rushed by, Epherene contemplated her future—her plans under Deculein, her father’s history and death, and the secrets he had taken to the grave. The true journey was just beginning. Epherene tightened her fist with determination.

On the other hand, Sylvia’s mind was entirely consumed by thoughts of Deculein. Though it caused her pain, she couldn’t help but dwell on him. In her heart, a fire had been ignited, as if by Glitheon’s design. This flame was so fierce and unrelenting that it seemed destined to burn long after she achieved the rank of Archmage.

"Oh, isn’t that the guy we encountered before?" Epherene remarked, pointing suddenly at a figure standing outside.

Sylvia glanced over and recognized Karixel, the married man they had met before, standing by the roadside. He noticed them too and walked over with a bright smile.

"Oh! Miss Epherene, Miss Sylvia! What a fortunate coincidence. Would it be possible for me to join you on your ride?" Karixel asked.

Lethe glanced at Sylvia, waiting for her reaction. Sylvia’s sigh was all the approval Lethe needed. Since they would see him at the exam anyway, there was no sense in creating unnecessary tension by being unkind.