A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 218: Interaction of Each Individual (1)

Whether the space itself had been sealed away or ensnared within a barrier, the admissions briefing hall of the Mage Tower was swallowed by an unnatural magical darkness.

“Hmm...” Ria murmured, her eyes narrowing as she stared into the darkness beyond the door, the keen eyes of an adventurer at work.

“Do you get it, Ria?” Leo asked.

“No... I don’t know. I can’t see anything, and it feels like there’s nothing there. I mean, I’m not a mage, after all...” Ria replied, shaking her head.

Even the system couldn’t read it, and there was no way to make sense of the phenomenon.

"What could it be? What could it be?" Maho said as she approached with a beaming smile, her arms overflowing with torn pamphlets from every department. "If this really is a magical terror attack, does that mean we've been kidnapped?"

“I haven’t thought that far yet... Oh, right,” Ria replied, tapping her temple lightly, as if knocking the thought back into place.

I lost focus for a moment. No matter the chaos, escorting the princess must always be my top priority, Ria thought.

"Please have a seat for now, Princess Maho. Leo, your only focus should be on her."

"Okay! Princess, come with me!" Leo said.

"Okay, okay~" Maho replied, having wandered over out of curiosity, but just as quickly, she returned to her seat beside Leo.

"... As expected, she doesn't miss a thing," Ria muttered.

Maho was the picture of innocence, a perfect image of the naive princess from old fairy tales—full of openings, easy to overlook. But beneath that facade lay not just a single blade, but dozens, each sharpened to a deadly edge, coiled like serpents in the dark, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Even now, it probably wasn’t just curiosity that had led her here. Although she had wandered over not out of interest, but to gently remind them that they were neglecting their duty.

"Mister Leo, how did you become an adventurer at such a young age~? I’m so curious, it’s amazing~"

"Sorry? Umm... Ahem... Hahaha! It’s really not that impressive~" Leo giggled, squirming under the princess’s praise, his body wriggling like a delighted puppy.

As Ria watched the two, her thoughts turned to the future that was fated ahead. In the course of Maho’s quest—in that independent quest—her death was not merely a possibility, but perhaps an inevitability.

Of course, possibility and inevitability were a paradox in themselves...

"It has been some time."

At that moment, a voice, cold as ice, sent a chill down Ria’s spine, freezing her in place. Ria flinched and turned, only to find Deculein standing before her, looking down with quiet intensity. In the depths of his eyes, her reflection trembled.

Gulp—

"So, you have returned to the capital." Deculein added.

“... Yes, sir,” Ria replied.

"What became of the task you mentioned in the Land of Destruction?"

It was both a duty and an oath she had sworn to Deculein—to find the herbs for Carlos, to cure him, no matter what, and put him back to the human he once was.

“So, you failed,” Deculein added with a smirk, as if he had expected nothing less.

“It’s not a failure. I found a chance,” Ria replied, clenching her fists.

“Chance.”

“Yes.”

“Explain.”

“... It’s a secret,” Ria mumbled, stealing a hesitant glance at him.

Then a sudden shiver crept over her, raising goosebumps along her neck and arms. Deculein hadn’t moved, and the air remained unchanged—yet the weight of his presence alone made it feel as though the temperature had dropped.

“... I met someone in the Land of Destruction.” Ria said.

“You mean the Altar?”

Ria's eyes widened in shock as she met Deculein’s eyes, since she hadn’t wanted to speak of it—not because she feared the words, but because they were too unbelievable. After all, most named characters would not believe that anyone could live in the Land of Destruction.

However, Deculein showed no sign of surprise, nor did he doubt it. Instead, he pinpointed the Altar.

“So... you know who they are?” Ria muttered.

At that moment, a flicker of suspicion stirred in Ria’s mind.

Could Deculein have allied himself with the Altar? Ria thought.

“Speak.”

... No. Deculein, a named character, is a staunch atheist. If atheism were a religion, he would be its most devoted follower. The idea of him joining the Altar—it would be a contradiction, an impossibility. Deculein had interrogated and slaughtered the Scarletborn without mercy. Of course, he would know of the Altar’s existence.

“... I asked them, and they said there is a flower.”

“Flower.”

"Yes. They said it’s a flower that brings balance between demonic energy and mana."

“... Balance,” Deculein said, a slight furrow forming between his brows.

"Yes. If all of Carlos’s demonic energy is purified, he will die. But... if there’s balance..."

Carlos would be no different from the Scarletborn.

Ria swallowed the rest of her words, as Deculein saw little difference between the Scarletborn and demons.

"Anyway, they call the flower Rezetal. If we find it, Carlos can live just like a normal person."

Then Deculein paused, his expression unreadable, his thoughts veiled in silence.

“... But, umm... if it really is a magical terror attack, shouldn’t you do something about it?” Ria muttered, twisting her fingers, worried about whatever was running through Deculein’s mind.

"It is impossible."

“... Oh?”

The answer came without hesitation, and the response—that it was impossible—left Ria staring blankly, her head tilting in confusion.

“Because it is the Shamanic Barrier of Complete Detachment,” Deculein explained.

“... What is that?”

“With its core existing outside the barrier, it is classified as ‘complete detachment.’ And because it combines the properties of both magic and shamanism, it is known as a ‘shamanic barrier.’”

Shamanic Barrier of Complete Detachment. I have no idea what that means, but okay.

“... Does that mean we can’t get out?” Ria asked.

“Escape from within is impossible.”

“... Forever?”

“Until the core’s mana fades or the core itself is destroyed.”

“Oh~”

As always, there was nothing Deculein didn’t know. Ria was still a little taken aback by the drastic change in his personality, but she couldn’t deny that she was the one who had introduced such a turning point—regarding his former fiancé.

"So, it’s not a big deal then, isn’t it?" Ria added with a bright smile.

“It’s a big deal,” Deculein replied.

“... Sorry?”

"Rather, it is a serious matter."

“... Why? If you already know what’s going on, then it’s not a serious matter, is it?”

“The Shamanic Barrier of Complete Detachment is the final hypothesis. Hundreds of possibilities were considered first—the spell improvised, the state of the hall assessed, its traces, and the density of mana examined one by one until only this remained,” Deculein replied, looking down at Ria and explaining at length.

“... Final hypothesis?”

"Indeed. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the only truth."

Ria flinched—she had heard those words before. As she hesitated, a mage quietly approached. Unlike Deculein, Epherene’s expression was far too serious.

"So... are we now in big trouble?"

“The Shamanic Barrier of Complete Detachment is grand magic.”

That single phrase left Ria speechless. Grand magic was something beyond the bounds of magic itself—In other words, a magical miracle.

“Grand... magic?” Ria muttered, staring up at Deculein in a daze, and he remained as composed as ever. “So... does that mean it’s not a terror attack?”

“By imperial law, manifesting a barrier in a civilian area without authorization is deemed an act of terrorism. However, the caster of this barrier is one who stands beyond the law.”

“... Caster.”

“An archmage, or a mage of equal standing, is here,” Deculein continued, nodding as he let out a deep breath before turning his eyes back to the podium.

At that moment, Ria’s mind went completely blank.

Archmage... Demakan? No, if it’s a mage of equal standing it could be... Murkan? Ria thought.

“Most likely, he has come for me.”

“... For you, Professor? Why?” Ria asked, blinking in confusion.

“Because I killed Rohakan,” Deculein stated plainly.

***

Meanwhile, Yulie stepped into the capital with Reylie at her side.

“Over here! This way, Knight Yulie!” Reylie said.

“Alright!” Yulie replied.

Before heading to the Imperial Palace, the two stopped by a nearby boutique—Antoire, the most prestigious clothing shop in the capital.

“... Knight Yulie, look at this. What do you think?” Reylie said, glancing through the garments before selecting an elegant dress.

“How about this suit instead?” Yulie replied, but as expected, she shook her head.

It was such an outdated suit—so unfashionable that even an old man would turn it away.

"No, there’s no need for a suit. Once we reach the Imperial Palace, you may be granted an Elite Guard uniform anyway. Just choose a dress instead," Reylie said with a sigh.

“... That’s far too expensive. A single outfit costs fifty thousand elne?" Yulie muttered.

How many shares of stock could I buy for the price of that dress? Yulie thought.

As Yulie grumbled over the price of the dress...

— This would suit Yulie well.

In that moment, a voice rose, striking Yulie and Reylie to their core—clear and unmistakable, the voice of Deculein.

— Haha, Professor Deculein, it seems Knight Yulie is the only one on your mind.

— It is only natural to think of beauty when surrounded by it.

The voice of that harrowing past sent Yulie’s heart pounding, a cold sweat gathering on her brow.

— Then, is the betrothal ceremony set for tomorrow?

— Indeed. Have it wrapped.

— Yes, Professor. Hahaha. Knight Yulie is the most fortunate on this continent—to have such an extraordinary professor like you as her partner...

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Like a veil of mist, laughter spread—not just from the boutique manager, but from Deculein as well.

"... That was Deculein’s voice, wasn’t it?" Reylie asked.

Yulie gave a quiet nod.

“Umm, well... I suppose the phenomenon of the Voice is said to emerge through those most deeply connected to the listener. So... I can’t help but feel worried myself—I might hear my mother or father. Anyway, let’s not dwell on it too much—”

— However, Professor... Forgive me if this question is impertinent, but...

The voice, briefly broken, resumed once more, drawing Yulie and Reylie to listen instinctively.

— It is a topic the social circle has been most curious about as of late...

— Speak.

— Hahaha. Forgive my curiosity, but what is it about Knight Yulie that has so completely captured your heart, Professor?

... A question from the boutique manager.

And...

— ... A poor woman, who has never had anything to call her own. That empty life of hers is nothing but a tragedy, and the strength she pretends to hold only makes it all the more heartrending.

It was Deculein’s reply.

— Sympathy... is that it, Professor?

— Perhaps. But what does it matter? If anything, that is why she will find happiness by my side. And she too desires me—she must. There is no world in which she would not...

With those final words, the assimilation of the Voice faded, leaving behind a silence that smoldered like embers. In that suffocating quiet, Yulie clenched her fists, biting down so hard her teeth threatened to crack.

“Umm... Now that I look at it again, this isn’t bad at all,” Reylie said, picking up the suit Yulie had left behind. “Excuse me, w-we’ll take this one. Please wrap it up.”

***

Knights renowned across the continent gathered at the Imperial Palace one by one—Verock, Jaelon, Yuplait, Bommas, and other masters whose names carried weight. Alongside them stood the rising stars of the new era, Yulie and Delic. Each had been summoned personally by the Empress, their presence demanded by a name only she could call.

"Your Majesty, all thirty have gathered in the dining hall," Ahan reported.

"Good," Sophien replied.

Sophien watched through a crystal orb as the thirty knights she had summoned gathered in the hall.

— Bommas. I should have known you’d be here.

— Haha! Likewise. But what could have prompted Her Majesty to summon all thirty of us...?

The knights spoke among themselves, their faces bright with joy and quiet pride, their laughter flowing through the hall like a familiar melody, all except one—Yulie.

"Looks like Yulie’s been left out."

Yulie sat alone in the corner, blinking and dressed in an outdated suit, her hands awkwardly resting on her knees, looking as though she didn’t belong, and not a single knight approached her.

"It seems to be because of Knight Yulie’s involvement in the Freyhem corruption scandal, Your Majesty."

“I am aware.”

The Freyhem Knights' Order corruption scandal shattered Yulie’s unblemished name in an instant, staining the reputation of a woman known for her honor and integrity. Yet, Deculein had not abandoned her—he had only made it seem that way.

Of course, Sophien had a vague sense of the truth, although she could never be certain unless Deculein admitted it himself. But at the very least, she knew one thing—it had all been done for Yulie.

"Bring Yulie first. I’ll start with that one and call them in one by one."

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Ahan carried out the order without delay, and in less than three minutes, Yulie stepped into the Empress’s study.

"Your Majesty," Yulie said, lowering her head in a deep bow.

Sophien's eyes swept over Yulie as she offered a respectful bow. As expected, there was no excess, no arrogance—only quiet dignity. Through measured movements and impeccable etiquette, she conveyed the depth of her loyalty without a single wasted word, the very image of a devoted servant to the Empress.

"Indeed, it’s been a while. Feels like just yesterday you were serving as my instructor knight," Sophien replied.

"Yes, Your Majesty. It was an honor, although they were brief but radiant light in my life. But because of my own failings, that honor fell in disgrace—"

"That is enough," Sophien interrupted.

If left unchecked, she would only lose herself in an infinite recitation of her own faults.

Sophien added, "Do you understand why you were called here today?"

"I do not, Your Majesty."

"It is for a test."

Though Yulie did not understand, she held her tongue, as a knight’s duty was to obey, not to question.

"I seek a knight to follow in Keiron’s stead—one who will first serve as my escort and, in time, rise as the Empire’s guardian knight," Sophien declared.

At the words of the Empire's guardian knight, Yulie’s eyes widened, her pale irises trembling like a snowstorm caught in the wind.

How transparent a woman she is, Sophien thought.

"I have prepared several trials for you. Do you believe you can overcome them?" Sophien added.

"Your Majesty, merely being granted the chance to prove myself in this trial is an honor beyond words—"

"Take this," Sophien said, extending a photograph.

Yulie looked down at the photograph, and there was a child—no older than eight, with a face far too young, far too innocent.

"A Scarletborn. A child who knew nothing but an ordinary life, no different from any other."

Yulie remained silent.

"Yet I loathe the blood of the Scarletborn... as you already know," Sophien said, a faint smile curling at her lips. "So tell me—will you be able to kill this child with your own hands? Can you cut through this child’s throat with your blade?"

At that, Yulie raised her head, and Sophien, who had been watching in silence, felt her lips tighten.

“Your Majesty...” Yulie said, showing neither hesitation nor uncertainty. “There is no child who should bear the weight of guilt.”

To Yulie, it was unquestionable. A knight who would take a child's life for the sake of prosperity and honor was unworthy of the title of knight—and even the thought of it was unthinkable.

"... Tch," Sophien murmured, clicking her tongue. "Now I understand."

Seeing that face, filled with conviction and belief, I now understand, Sophien thought.

"The reason why that professor hates you."

The reason Deculein hates this woman.

“And the reason why he loves you.”

Yet loves her simultaneously.

But at that moment, for the first time, Yulie questioned her, “... Professor Deculein... is Your Majesty referring to me?”

“Indeed.”

“No, Your Majesty,” Yulie replied. “Not even for a single moment has he ever loved me.”

“... Not even for a single moment?”

"No, Your Majesty. But it was nothing more than pity, as if he were merely sheltering a stray dog."

Yulie muttered those words, laced with intense hostility, carrying the weight of certainty—though she knew nothing, or worse, believed she knew it all. Sophien felt an unexpected twist of irritation at that misplaced certainty, but she did not let it show.

Perhaps letting her remain in such a state would make things all the more interesting, Sophien thought.

"That is enough. Your true trial lies elsewhere."

“... Yes, Your Majesty.”

"I do not command my knights to kill children. Loyalty is not proven through murder—if anything, the one who does it is no more than a lunatic..." Sophien added, tilting her head forward.

Sophien stared directly into Yulie’s face, taking in the quiet shock that flickered through her features.

"But when I was a child—no older than the Scarletborn in that photograph—someone attempted to poison me."

At those words, Yulie’s expression grew sincere, and she held her composure and met Sophien’s eyes without hesitation.

"And so, this is your trial," Sophien continued, a faint smile curling at her lips. "Harness every ability at your command and uncover the one behind the poisoning."

The Empress regarded the knight, who had her lips tightly closed, and asked, "Are you capable of this?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the knight replied without hesitation, nodding as if she had been waiting for this moment and pouring all her conviction into her words. "I, Knight Deya, will dedicate myself entirely—body and soul—to proving my worth in Your Majesty’s trial."

... It was enough of an answer to satisfy the Empress.