A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 194: Tough Battle (1)

“Your Majesty confessed your love to Deculein,” Rohakan said.

The blunt and unrestrained voice of Rohakan shattered the fragile stillness that cloaked the darkened chamber.

“... What,” Sophien murmured.

It wasn’t confusion, but sheer disbelief—a statement so outlandish it left her momentarily stunned. The crimson glow of the moon poured through the window, washing over Sophien’s face like a soft blush.

“You, lower than filth—I’ll rip apart that mouth spewing such lunacy,” Sophien growled, advancing toward Rohakan with wide, unblinking eyes, her body swaying like a specter, a ghostly aura coiling ominously around her.

At that moment...

“Your Majesty! It’s Gawain!”

Outside, the shouts of the approaching knights rang out loudly, and just beyond the chamber door, they paced restlessly, their footsteps scraping the floor in a rhythm of anxious impatience.

“Your Majesty! If you remain silent, we will be forced to—”

“Stand down,” Sophien commanded. “If you dare set foot in my chamber, all of you will face execution. Leave at once.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. My deepest apologies. The sudden surge of mana compelled us to act...”

“There is nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I shall obey.”

The fading footsteps on the stairs echoed from the distance, leaving the space steeped in silence. Sophien turned her eyes back to Rohakan, who was once again shrouded in the embrace of shadows.

Click—

Rohakan switched on the light, illuminating the chamber into brightness and exposing his face. However, he looked far younger than before; the deep wrinkles that once marked his features had disappeared, leaving his skin smooth and devoid of any hint of his former age.

"Did you sell your soul to a demon? That ridiculous claim about seeing the future, and now your unnaturally youthful face—if that’s the price, it would explain everything," Sophien said.

"How could I dare to do such a thing, Your Majesty... Tch."

At that moment, Rohakan clicked his tongue, and in an instant, the Runic Binding that Sophien had used to restrain him dissolved into nothingness.

“This much formality is unbearable. Far too uncomfortable, I’d say,” Rohakan said, sitting down, his posture as relaxed and irreverent as it had been in the past. “Let’s put an end to this. In the laws of the desert, there’s no place for such formalities—no matter if you’ve become an Empress. It’s been a long time, Sophien.”

Bloodshot veins surfaced in the eyes of Sophien. While she often dismissed formalities and decorum as tedious, the audacity of someone displaying such flagrant disrespect before the Empress of all beings drove her anger to boil over.

“The only reason I’m not killing you this very moment is that, to some degree, you’ve managed to pique my interest,” Sophien said.

Rohakan observed the subtle yet unmistakable aura of murderous intent that seemed to ripple around Sophien.

“However, unfortunately, I am not in a pleasant mood. Be mindful that my curiosity does not give way to the urge to end your life. From this moment forward, speak only to answer my questions.”

The child who was once so small has become such a stern and commanding ruler, Rohakan thought, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

“Rohakan, did you truly glimpse the future?” Sophien asked.

"That is correct. It means that my time in this world is nearing its end. It seems I have the peculiar attribute of my talents blossoming all the more as my remaining days dwindle," Rohakan replied.

The Final Radiance—an attribute that brought brilliance to the twilight of Rohakan’s life.

"The sun shines brightest just before it sets. My death is just around the corner, and right now, I might even surpass Demakan in greatness," Rohakan said with audacity as he dared to speak Demakan's name.

Although it was such an audacious remark, Sophien could sense it instinctively and see the vibrant essence coursing through Rohakan’s entire being, along with the glimmer of transcendental enlightenment in his eyes.

“To satisfy your curiosity, I will say this—Sophien, you will come to love Deculein,” Rohakan said, his smile curling at the corners of his lips.

Sophien closed her eyes for a moment, but even those few words ignited a searing heat within her. An unstoppable rush of blood pounded at the crown of her head, an unfamiliar sensation she couldn’t quite place. Out of the countless cycles of death and rebirth, she could not recall ever feeling so enraged.

Rohakan continued, “Sophien, I cannot imagine how someone like you could ever come to love another. Perhaps even you don’t know it yourself. However...”

Then, a faint smile touched Rohakan’s lips.

“I saw the look on your face as you confessed your love to Deculein. Sophien, you were fumbling with emotions you had never experienced before in your life, and—”

"Shut the fuck up with that nonsense! Do you believe such childish fantasies of romance could still remain within me?" Sophien snapped.

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“It seems it did remain... like a lone blossom,” Rohakan replied.

With a cold expression, she narrowed her eyes in disdain, tilted her head slightly, and in a voice laced with quiet menace, Sophien asked, “Is that the only reason you risked your life to stand before me? To warn me about some impossible emotion that could never take root within me?”

Rohakan locked his eyes on Sophien for a moment before letting out a bitter smile, shaking his head, and saying, “Sophien, you must already know.”

The tone of Rohakan gradually deepened, settling into quietude.

“Everyone who walks alongside you meets misfortune. Not a single one is spared.”

Sophien's murderous intent faded, and the hard edge in her eyes eased ever so slightly, trembling for the briefest moment.

“That is the curse you were born with. Knowing this, you chose to keep Kreto at a distance. And it is for that very reason that I had to take your mother’s life.”

Rohakan's eyes fell on the table before him, where a snow globe stood.

“I did not come here to warn you about your emotions. I came here to protect that boy, Deculein.”

As Rohakan spoke of Deculein, his thoughts turned to the man himself—a man who had once been without talent, despised by his own father, and left with nothing to his name but the fragile remnants of his pride.

However, through sheer effort alone, he climbed to his position, earning acclaim for saving his mentor’s life and discovering the exceptional talent of Epherene.

Guided only by his unique insight, he uncovered the truth—that the true threat to this world was not the Scarletborn, but the Altar.

“Of course, I’ve done little for him as his mentor, and he, in turn, has done nothing but take from me. But even so, he is one of the few I can call my protégé.”

Sophien remained silent.

“In a life without children, with nothing left but death waiting on the horizon, if there is still a purpose to be found, it must lie in doing something for the sake of my protégé.”

Rohakan quietly looked at Sophien, a daughter of Crebaim, yet burdened with a fate that marked her as something apart from humanity—a child born to carry a curse as heavy as iron, a monster bound by her own tragic destiny.

“The danger in you loving Deculein lies not in the love itself, but in the fact that you are the one who loves, and that is what makes it dangerous.”

The mana within Sophien began to ripple through the air, and the electric lights slowly faded, surrendering to the crimson glow of the moon spilling into the chamber like liquid fire.

“Sophien, you must never let yourself love anyone.”

Rohakan slowly replayed the fragments of the future he had seen in the depths of his mind.

“You gave your heart to Deculein...”

One day, whether in the distant future or one not so far away, Sophien would give her heart to Deculein. However, as time continued its inevitable progression...

“You killed him with your own hands.”

Rohakan had seen Sophien take Deculein’s life with her own hands.

“I cannot stand by and simply watch it come to pass—that is why I speak to you now.”

Sophien stared at him with indifferent eyes, devoid of any trace of emotion.

“Sophien, if you really care for Deculein, or should you come to love him, I have a favor to ask of you.”

The atmosphere thickened, a weighty current wrapping around the two, attaching to their very skin, while a suffocating silence descended, merging with the shadows that swallowed the room.

“Please, keep your distance from him,” Rohakan concluded.

Even then, the Empress's expression remained unchanged, as if she were untouched by the weight of the moment.

“Is that what you call protecting Deculein? By talking out of your hat?” Sophien asked.

“I came here at the risk of my own life, didn’t I?” Rohakan said with a bright smile.

... Though I speak like this, there is one last thing I must give to Deculein, Rohakan thought.

"Well, I shall take my leave."

“Stop right there. Do you think you can escape whenever you please?” Sophien said, muttering the runic language directly at Rohakan.

“There is no need to rush, Sophien,” Rohakan said with a single wave of his hand, dispelling her runic language as if it were a mere thread of smoke.

The neck of the continent's most infamous criminal, the dimming embers of an old man's waning life.

“We will meet again before long.”

Rohakan chose to offer his final breath to Deculein.

***

... In the Northern Region of Rekordak, the southern advance of the demonic beasts ramped up with unstoppable intensity.

“Arrows! Are we out of arrows?”

Two weeks had passed since the intense battle began, and the situation in Rekordak had spiraled into such a dire state that calling it favorable, even as a jest, would be a cruel mockery.

“Arrows! Bring more arrows up here, now!”

The automatic crossbows on top of the walls had run out of arrows, the mages were drained of mana, and the knights and prisoners beyond the wall fared no better.

"Knight Yulie! Are you alright?!" shouted Reylie, an adventurer and mage.

In the heart of the battlefield, where the forest of the Land of Destruction swarmed with demonic beasts, Yulie struck them down, froze them in their tracks, and shattered them before turning to Reylie and saying, “I’m fine. But...”

The ground nearby was strewn with the bodies of prisoners, their final breaths long since stolen away. Clutching maces in one hand and swords in the other, they had fought desperately to their last moments and died where they fell.

“... There’s no need for you to waste your sympathy, Knight Yulie,” Reylie said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “In the end, they were nothing more than condemned criminals.”

Yulie gave a quiet nod, for it was an undeniable truth that their lives were chained by misdeeds and wrongdoing.

However, Yulie closed her eyes for a moment and whispered, “Though their lives were filled with nothing but sin, their deaths carried a sliver of meaning. May they find a path to redemption in the world that lies beyond.”

As it was not a death so empty as to be unworthy of even the smallest gesture of mourning, Reylie bowed her head alongside Yulie in a brief moment of silent reflection.

“... Do you fancy yourself to be the only righteous person here?”

At the sound of the mocking voice, they turned to see Delic and the imperial knights standing there. Exhaustion carved deep lines into their pale faces, and their hollow eyes reflected the heavy toll of hunger and fatigue.

“Knight Delic, are you alright?” Yulie asked.

“How could I possibly be alright? I’ve barely slept four hours in the past week. Damn it,” Delic muttered.

The knights dragged their weary steps forward, their complaints spilling with each movement. Their stamina had waned under the unceasing southern advance, robbed of even the smallest reprieve. Meanwhile, in Rekordak, nearly a third of the prisoners had already died on the battlefield.

“Do you plan to stand your ground, Knight Yulie?” Delic asked.

“Yes.”

“Hmph. Then you will probably meet your end here—or rather, it will be Deculein who binds you to your fate.”

Yulie furrowed her brow as Delic, who had grown into a cynic over time, was understandably worn down by the extreme circumstances. However, his weary, disrespectful behavior only deepened the weight of the moment, offering no comfort amid the chaos around them.

“Then what about you, Knight Delic? Are you not planning to stand your ground?” Yulie asked.

“If the wall collapses, retreat will be inevitable. From the way it looks now, it’s only a matter of time,” Delic said, gesturing toward a section of the wall.

Delic continued, “Look to the right side—it’s beginning to buckle. The walls of Rekordak are made of reinforced stone, which makes preventive maintenance nearly impossible. It does have self-repairing capabilities, but with the demonic beasts constantly swarming like this, it won’t hold out for long.”

The damage to the wall was undeniable, even to Yulie's eyes.

“Oh my, how did I not notice that?” Reylie exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Three days. That’s all the time we have until it collapses,” Delic said, holding up three fingers. “It’s already a miracle it’s held out this long. So, it would be wise to think carefully about what to do with the time—”

At that moment, a thin wisp of smoke rose from Rekordak, signaling that the meal was ready.

“It seems the meals are ready,” Yulie said, her face brightening with delight.

“... Damn it. They keep dishing out all those pathetic excuses for food, and yet you’re so happy, like it’s a feast?”

For knights, food was indispensable. Just as an elephant requires an enormous amount of sustenance to move its massive body, knights too demanded no less to sustain their strength.

However, a single knight consumed nearly as much as ten ordinary men, and at Rekordak, where quality was a forgotten luxury, they were left to survive on barley gruel and leathery cuts of meat.

“Does he take us for livestock or something?”

“Knight Delic, this is not the Imperial Palace. With supplies running short, there is no other choice.”

“Hmph! And yet, I hear Deculein dines on all kinds of fine delicacies in the comfort of his mansion.”

“... Have you seen it with your own eyes?”

“It’s obvious! That mansion is the only place that reeks of luxury. Clearly, his palate is as refined as his pride,” Delic replied, scoffing in response to Yulie’s question, then turned around and stared at Deculein's mansion in Rekordak.

"I’ll bring this to the professor’s attention. If it proves to be true, it’s a matter that needs to be addressed. Knight Delic, why don’t you and the knights go ahead and have your meal?" Yulie replied, her eyes tracking toward the grand mansion.

“... Hmph.”

Delic and the knights trudged down the mountain path, and not a single one of them remained unscathed. Each bore their own wounds—some limped on battered legs, others had arms wrapped tightly in bloodstained bandages, and their armor was riddled with scratches and dents.

“... There really are rumors about that. They say Deculein is the only one eating gourmet meals in his mansion. Even from a distance, you can catch the mouthwatering aroma coming from where he stays,” Reylie said hesitantly.

"We’ll know once I ask," Yulie said, giving a faint nod.

***

The sunken plains of Rekordak reek of death. Our supplies are running low, and the battles show no signs of ending.

Frost Wolves, Trolls, Ogres, Dementors, Gargoyles, Nightwings, Mammoths, tigers, and Ice Bears—demonic beasts that would be rare even in the capital—have come to batter our walls without a break.

The spirits of those fighting are crumbling, while the mountain villagers, blind to the true weight of this war, have placed their fragile trust entirely in our hands.

Tonight, beneath the grip of a howling snowstorm, we harvested barley from the garrison farmland. It was just enough to sustain us for three days, so we prepared barley porridge to feed the villagers, while the knights were served forest game, rice, and wheat bread from the supply convoy.

However, the mages, whose spells drain both their mana and mental strength, require more substantial sustenance. For this reason, I provided them with the Manafin I had caught.

As for the fish I managed to catch during stolen moments of peace, their numbers have gradually grown into a stockpile of hundreds. If distributed at the rate of one per person every two days, it will last us for at least a week...

I was documenting the southern advance, writing a report meant for Sophien while recording the events here with accuracy and honesty. My goal was not only to record but to use these accounts to gain political advantage.

I had already learned the art of influencing hearts with written words through the formal letter I had previously submitted, and that knowledge would serve me well enough once more.

“... About three weeks left,” I murmured.

However, the real problem was the time we had left. Even with the strictest rations, two weeks was the most we could manage, and there were tens of thousands of people in Rekordak.

Inside these walls, there were many ways to die—starving to death, escaping Rekordak only to die on the run, or being slaughtered by the demonic beasts that would break through the walls. But there was only one way to survive—by guarding Rekordak.

Knock, knock—

At that moment, a knock echoed, followed by a voice from beyond the door.

"Professor, the Manafin is ready," said the villager I had appointed as my secretary.

***

At the same time, Yulie arrived at Deculein’s mansion, where a warm, savory aroma wafted from within, greeting her even before she reached the door.

Sniff, sniff— Sniff, sniff—

It was an irresistibly rich and mouthwatering scent that made Yulie instinctively furrow her brow.

“... Really?” Yulie murmured, disappointment welling up within her once again.

I really thought the last disappointment would be the end of it, but to be let down again by his greed for food. If this scent is spreading beyond this area, it’s no wonder the knights are beginning to voice their complaints, Yulie thought.

Creak—

Yulie pushed open the door to the mansion.

“Professor Deculein!”

... the moment the words escaped her lips, her eyes met Epherene's, who stood just ahead.

“... Knight Yulie?” Epherene said, tilting her head slightly, a stack of plates balanced in her arms as she looked at Yulie.

“... Miss Epherene,” Yulie said, her expression stiffening. “There is a matter I need to discuss with the professor.”

"Something to discuss with the professor?"

“Yes, it’s regarding the scent of food that is spreading through the mansion—”

“Oh, this? It’s a special meal prepared for the mages,” Epherene replied.

“... Pardon?” Yulie said, her eyes widening. “... A special meal?”

“Yes. The professor says that forcing specialized personnel like mages to fight in daily battles is enough to drive them mad. So, every other day, he invites them to the mansion and serves them fish to help regain their stamina. Should I have mentioned it to you earlier?”

This time, realizing she had likely misunderstood the situation, Yulie cleared her throat awkwardly and casually changed the conversation and said, “... I apologize for my misunderstanding. If that’s the case, has the professor been eating well so far?”

“Oh, Professor? Well... the professor is... the professor...” Epherene murmured, her words fading into a hesitant pause. “The professor is... the professor...”

For a moment, Epherene fell into deep thought, but then her eyes widened in surprise, as if a sudden realization had struck her, and she turned toward Yulie.

“Wait. I don’t think the professor has eaten anything at all this past week...”

“... Pardon?” Yulie replied, blinking in stunned confusion.