A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 195: Tough Battle (2)

“A knight is like a horse, driven forward only when properly fed. A mage, however, is more like a finely tuned machine, intricate and interdependent. The younger and less experienced the mage, the more precise their care must be,” I said.

The differences between knights and mages are significant. It was not a matter of favoritism, but rather an understanding of how each utilized and applied mana. Knights, for the most part, handled mana in a simple, straightforward way. Techniques like Sword Aura, Defensive Mana Barriers, and Sword Qi were all examples of manifesting mana as pure energy.

On the other hand, mages shaped mana into phenomena, constructing it into a much greater system—one we called magic. Because of this complexity, the risks they faced on the battlefield were far greater than those of knights, with overexertion potentially leading to Magic Deviation, disrupting both their mental and magical equilibrium.

“To defend against the looming southern advance with the time we have left, the continuous use of magic will be indispensable.”

Destructive magic, such as bombardments and explosive mortar strikes, and support magic, which protected knights and enhanced their strength—both were essential in siege warfare.

“Moreover, satisfying the appetites of the knights' stomachs is, above all, an impossible task.”

It was like trying to fill an elephant’s stomach with expensive flowers—completely impractical and inefficient.

“Yes, Professor, I understand. I will convey your message and make sure it is handled appropriately,” Yulie said with a nod before continuing, “However, I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t dine with the mages on the first floor for your meals. Do you plan to eat separately later?”

I had already gone a week without eating. Of course, part of the reason was my increasingly selective taste, but it was ultimately a matter of practicality. Through constant development and adaptation, the Iron Man attribute had not only enhanced my overall health but also allowed me to regulate my metabolism entirely according to my own preferences.

As a result, I drastically minimized the energy my body consumed in daily life, while efficiently absorbing every bit of mana through each breath. In moments like these, there was no need to hold on to the routine of eating three meals a day.

Summarizing all of those facts in a single response, I replied, “It’s none of your concern.”

Yulie puffed her cheeks slightly and gave me a brief, sidelong glance before changing the topic and said, “Professor, are you aware? At the wall of the Northeastern—”

“I am aware,” I interrupted as Yulie fumbled for the right words. “What you know, I already know. What you don’t know, I’ve long since understood. And what you may never come to realize, I’ve known far ahead of you.”

“... How wonderful,” Yulie said, narrowing her eyes.

Though I found her reaction charming, without showing emotion, I responded, “I’m already considering a solution. Leave those concerns to me and focus on the upcoming battle.”

Preventive maintenance on the wall was no longer an option, but leaving it untouched would only accelerate its collapse—it was merely a matter of time. The only reason it had held out this long was due to the continuous application of the Midas Touch across its entire structure.

“Yes, Professor. I’ll take my leave now,” Yulie said as she rose from her seat.

Perhaps she had nothing more to say, or perhaps she wished to avoid speaking to me. With a slight bow of her head, Yulie turned without another word and exited the room.

Creeeeak—

“How interesting. Is this what behavior programming does?” I murmured, letting my shoulders loosen as I watched the closed door.

Just seeing her once was enough to leave me feeling a bit lighter, as if the rest of the day would end on a brighter note.

***

Tip, tap, tip, tap—

As soon as Yulie closed the office door, Epherene slipped out from behind the wall, approaching like a rabbit.

“... Yes. It seems to be true,” Yulie said, scratching the back of her neck as she looked toward her, feeling strangely awkward about the situation.

“Oh,” Epherene murmured, her lips curling into a slight pout. “... Has he really gone an entire week without eating?”

"I will let the other knights know as needed. After all, young mages require proper care," Yulie replied.

“Okay, thank you.”

“If anything, I should be the one thanking you. Thanks to you, Miss Epherene...” Yulie paused, letting her words fade away.

To Yulie, Deculein was such a mysterious man. If he had remained in Rekordak solely for his own ambition, there would be no need for him to go out of his way to manage the mages. Nor would there be any reason for him to let himself go hungry while making sure they were properly fed.

“... Thank you for your hard work. Assisting Professor Deculein could not have been an easy task,” Yulie added, her hand resting on Epherene’s shoulder.

Epherene slightly smiled and replied, “It’s really not that bad for me. If anything, you, Knight Yulie, have a much more difficult time here. I mean, your former fiancé... Ah, no. Ahem. That’s not what I meant...”

Epherene was caught off guard by the words that slipped from her lips before she could hold them back.

“It’s fine. It’s true, after all,” Yulie said with a slight shake of her head.

“... Are you actually okay with it?”

“Yes. In fact, I find it more comfortable now that we’ve grown apart. Holding hatred for each other works far better for us.”

At that moment, Epherene fell silent, saying nothing, as if she had begun to slightly understand. The reason Deculein and Yulie parted ways—no, the reason he let her go—wasn’t because they hated each other, but rather because...

“Then, I will take my leave,” Yulie said, bowing her head slightly.

“Oh, yes. Take care,” Epherene said, sending Yulie off with a bittersweet smile.

***

Hadecaine, a county governed by the Yukline family, maintained a relatively mild climate even during the winter. In the midst of the southern advance, it was one of the most thoroughly prepared territories, and its rising prominence reflected the strength of the great noble house. In the heart of this prosperous land, Yeriel, the acting lord, was conducting an inspection.

“There aren’t any thieves or bandits, are there?” Yeriel asked.

“No, Lady Yeriel. It appears the measures we implemented prior to the southern advance, including the necessary training, have been effective,” the old butler replied.

The people of Hadecaine maintained order, and even in this bitter winter, no one had lost their reason or fallen prey to animalistic crimes.

As a result, a sense of stability remained in Hadecaine. Children attended school, knights and merchants carried out their duties, and the mage tower continued its uninterrupted stream of research and published papers.

Of course, there was a strict curfew in place before 5 p.m., but compared to other territories where people were confined indoors entirely, Hadecaine’s restrictions were considered far more lenient.

“That’s good to hear. And is there anything else?”

“There was a slight disturbance last night—an underground demonic beast appeared—but aside from that, everything remains in order.”

“Another underground demonic beast? Things have been in absolute chaos these days. I don’t think anything like this has ever happened, at least not since I was born,” Yeriel said, picking up a crumpled newspaper from the ground.

The Most Powerful Demonic Beast Advance in History... Prelude to the Continent’s Downfall?

Every newspaper spoke of the southern advance, and demonic beasts were flooding in from all directions. The frontier counties of the territories had long abandoned their outer regions, focusing all their efforts on defending their city centers. The situation was especially dire in the kingdom, where most counties had reportedly fallen into bankruptcy.

But Yeriel recognized the moment as an opportunity and took action. With her keen instinct for reading the tides of change, she saw the current situation as a rich vein of gold waiting to be tapped. Therefore, she eagerly loosened the purse strings she had kept cinched tight, like a miser until now.

“How are the loan provisions coming along?” Yeriel asked.

“Leoc and the other kingdoms have willingly accepted the terms we proposed, but Yuren has respectfully declined,” the butler replied without hesitation.

“... Is that so? Yuren seems rather firm in their stance.”

The Principality of Yuren, having recently undertaken a wave of reforms, displayed exceptional skill in both economic strategy and political acumen—qualities clearly reflected in their thorough preparations for the southern advance, even though the identity of their leader remained unknown.

“We have provided loans totaling three billion elne to Leoc and one billion elne to each of the other kingdoms,” the butler reported.

“That should do.”

The total amounted to nine billion elne, which accounted for over 70% of the liquid assets Yeriel had amassed during her time as acting lord through investments in banking, trade, merchant guilds, auctions, and the Marik Underground Passage.

“You know what needs to be done next, right?” Yeriel added.

Of course, Yeriel had no intention of handing over her funds as if she were making a foolish investment, and she was far from innocent—if anything, she leaned closer to cruel pragmatism.

“Yes, Lady Yeriel. Our merchant guild will make contact.”

The plan was straightforward. First, loans would be provided, allowing merchant guilds under the Yukline name to approach the kingdoms discreetly through intermediaries.

They would then take advantage of the exceptional circumstances to offer slightly higher prices for weapons and provisions—reasonable increases, of course, within acceptable bounds, avoiding any impression of exploitation.

Even if the king hesitated or rival merchant guilds attempted to compete in bidding, the kingdom’s advisors, having already been discreetly compensated in advance, would strongly recommend Yukline’s guild. In the end, the funds loaned at the start would flow back in full, returning neatly to Yukline’s coffers.

“Okay~ I can already feel the anticipation building.”

As long as the southern advance ends without the continent falling into ruin, Yukline will be able to extend its influence beyond the Empire and across the entire continent, Yeriel thought.

"I wonder what the people who used to criticize Deculein are doing now," Yeriel hummed as she lightly walked along the path. "Strengthening the defenses will lead the territory to collapse~ Please reconsider~ We’ll go bankrupt~ Haha! Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Without Deculein, those fools would have been nothing more than prey for the demonic beasts."

“Were you not one of his critics, Lady Yeriel?” asked the butler, his words carrying a sting in the tail.

Yeriel flinched and turned back, snapping, “... I may have complained, but I still got the job done. That’s a huge difference. Doing it properly while saying fuck this and fuck that isn’t the same as being dragged into it and doing everything halfway."

“Yes, that is absolutely correct.”

The defenses might have been excessive, but thanks to them, Hadecaine had become the second safest city after the capital.

“Oh, right. I should write a letter to my brother,” Yeriel murmured.

“Pardon me?” the butler said, his eyes widening in apparent shock.

“What? Why?”

“Lady Yeriel, did you just refer to Master Deculein as your brother?”

Yeriel flinched, cold sweat beading on her forehead as she stammered, “... What are you talking about? When did I ever say that? No, I mean—he is my brother. Ugh, forget it. Let’s just move on to the next location already.”

Yeriel dismissed the matter with a vague excuse and hurried into the car. The butler, still visibly shocked, took his seat in the driver's seat.

"... Let’s go," Yeriel said.

“Yes, Lady Yeriel.”

Vrooom—!

Seated in the moving car, Yeriel looked out at the rolling landscape of Hadecaine, her thoughts quietly turning over the contents of the letter she planned to write to Deculein.

... Nothing in this world ever goes the way I want it to, Yeriel thought to herself for a moment.

Yeriel had always dreamed of becoming the true lord of Yukline—a rightful ruler, not just a temporary placeholder. But now, that dream felt like a distant star, no longer within her reach.

Because I am not a Yukline. I wasn’t born of Yukline blood, nor am I even someone this continent welcomes. I am Scarletborn.

“Well.”

It doesn’t matter, and I feel no regret. Deculein is, and will always be, the rightful head of Yukline. All I need is to stay by his side. Even if the entire world were to find out that I am Scarletborn, and even if everyone turned their backs on me because of it, Deculein would still stay by my side. Because he promised me he would.

“That’s all I need,” Yeriel murmured.

Being regarded as family by Deculein was all she could ever ask for. It brought her such deep satisfaction that she neither sought greater ambitions nor wished for anything more.

“Hey, hey. Is the next stop the hardware store?” Yeriel asked.

“Yes, Lady Yeriel.”

“Hmm~ Okay,” Yeriel said, comfortably leaning back against the seat with a satisfied smile on her lips.

***

Somewhere in the Land of Destruction, beneath the uninhabitable wastelands, hidden deep underground at its lowest depths, lay the Sanctuary of the Altar, home to a congregation of fanatics.

"■■■. ■■■■. ■■."

They spoke in an ancient tongue, lost to time, holding their rituals and prayers as if they were living in an age when the gods walked among mortals, unbroken by human hands.

"■■■■■. ■■. ■■■■!"

"■■!"

"■■■■!"

As the priest shouted aloud and swung his staff, dozens of followers bowed their heads as if moved by divine passion. The scene was a strange, dizzying spectacle, drenched in chaotic worship.

“Unbelievable...”

Arlos found their sense of elitism repulsive, and the incomprehensible droning of their language set her teeth on edge. However, she wasn’t about to risk her profits over something so insignificant. After all, she had invested far too much effort into reaching the heart of their sanctuary.

“... ■■.”

At that moment, the lengthy ritual finally came to an end, and the fanatics of the Altar, clad in their robes, began to prepare to make their way out of the sanctuary.

“Hey, where are you headed now?” Arlos asked, stopping one of the fanatics.

“Are you a Puppeteer? We’re heading to the Northern Region to bring it to ruin,” one of the fanatics said, glancing at her.

“To the Northern Region?”

“Yes. We are going to bring down both Rekordak and Deculein.”

Deculein—a name that, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, haunted her thoughts.

“Do you believe it can be done?”

“Haha. We’ll find out soon enough.”

Hearing the fanatic’s overly confident words, Arlos reached into her coat for a recording device tucked inside, her fingers brushing against one of the intelligence tools that Deculein had provided.

“What kind of spell are you planning to use? Do you mind sharing a little? I must admit, it has piqued my curiosity.”

“Heheh. Well, I suppose it’s only natural for a troglodyte like you to be curious.”

Attached to her robe were both recording devices and cameras. Deculein had advised taking advantage of their weakness—though they were highly sensitive to magical surveillance, their lack of understanding of technology bordered on the ridiculous.

“Hmm, yes. I’m curious~ Just a little, just a little,” Arlos said, twisting her body in a coquettish manner.

As the current puppet is quite beautiful, it should be more than enough to seduce a fool like this one from the bottom rung, Arlos thought.

“Ahem. Well, for a troglodyte, I must admit you don’t look half bad... Follow me!”

In any group, there was always a reason why some stayed at the bottom, and Arlos followed behind the one ahead, watching him pretend to be important.

***

Late at night, a puppet sent by Arlos arrived at my office in the form of a child, and without delay, it dived straight into its report.

「We will be using summoning magic. It is such a sophisticated spell that, obviously, will be beyond your understanding...」

Arlos placed two devices on the desk—a recording device, containing everything she had heard, and a camera, capturing everything she had seen.

“This is valuable intelligence,” I said with a satisfied nod.

“How much?” Arlos asked, getting straight to business.

For a moment, I considered the price, but there was no point in pinching pennies over it.

“Three million elne in cash,” I replied.

“... Hmm. The information doesn’t seem all that significant, yet the price is rather high.”

“The information is more than significant. You’ve happened to deal with a bigmouth.”

“Is that so?”

"One sees only as much as they understand," I said, replaying the footage Arlos had recorded. "Here, on this blackboard, part of the summoning magic spell is exposed."

“... Hmm, I see.”

The Altar’s bigmouth, caught up in their own boasting, ended up revealing a part of the summoning magic spell that the Altar had researched and developed. It was an extraordinary blunder on their part.

Of course, they had likely said it without much thought, never imagining that Arlos would sell the information—or that it would find its way into my hands, of all people.

"But why does this spell even matter? It looked completely different from any modern spells," Arlos asked.

“Indeed, you are right,” I replied, a faint smile curling at the edge of my lips. “It is entirely different from modern magic. To most other mages, this spell would hold no value whatsoever. But, Arlos... I am Deculein.”

“What about it?”

“No mage exceeds me in the theoretical understanding, analysis, and deconstruction of spells in all aspects.”

Summoning magic was particularly vulnerable to the leakage of its spells. Once dispelled, not only could the summoning be reversed, but the ownership of the summoned entity could also be stolen.

“Are you bragging?”

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“A statement of fact,” I replied, standing from my chair and turning to look out the window.

Not far from Rekordak, at the heart of the Land of Destruction, stood the Altar. The fanatics—a congregation of delusion or perhaps a swarm of cockroaches—had finally begun to move. Yet, this was not unexpected; it was a long anticipated declaration of war.

“It appears to be a spell independently developed by the Altar. Even if this is only a fragment...” I said, turning back to Arlos.

Arlos, who had been absent for quite some time, finally returned and provided a crucial piece of information worth its weight in gold.

"I can study the whole through the part; I can reconstruct the whole. Within a week, I will be able to identify, analyze, and dispel the structure and spells of the Altar's magic," I declared with confidence.

However, Arlos seemed visibly confused.

“Is there something else you wish to ask?” I inquired.

“No. Now stop boasting and hand over the payment so I can leave,” Arlos said, shaking her head.

“Ahem,” I murmured, clearing my throat and pulling three stacks of one million elne in cash from the drawer, then handing them over to her.

“Then, I’ll take my leave."

Just as Arlos took the payment and turned to leave...

Knock, knock—

Someone knocked on the door of my office.