A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 232: Island of the Voice (2)

The Empire had recovered from every scar left by that brutal winter, brought down upon them by the southern advance of the Land of Destruction. Sophien, the Empress, turned that historic catastrophe into opportunity—and she alone drew the line between the living and the dead.

The dead were the old. The living were the young and the adults. The old died because they were weak. The young lived for the very same reason. The old died because their time had passed. The young lived because theirs had not yet come. The old chose death, and in that sacrifice, the young found life.

The old—those too severely wounded to move or who could no longer move—were left without treatment. Their lives were surrendered so that the young and the adults might be spared. And the old, understanding what was asked of them, met that fate in silence.

In the end, the deaths of the old served the Empire—both in the short term and the long. There were fewer mouths to feed, and reason, not sentiment, drove the Empress’s hand. To Sophien, it was not a tragedy. It was a demographic rebirth.

After the southern advance, the work of restoring the people's livelihoods began. The slums and impoverished districts—once preserved under the pretense of tradition—had collapsed on their own. And so, all the land was claimed by the imperial family.

The Empress approached development with strategic care. For the new districts, she adopted the system from the Principality of Yuren’s efficient urban model—and unlike the stubborn officials, she never dismissed it as beneath the Empire. Instead, she recognized its merit with open eyes.

As a result, in just three months, Sophien restored order from chaos, regained control within the Empire, strengthened the monarchy's hold, and established the foundation for a reformation of its social structure.

“... It is all thanks to Your Majesty’s grace. Even the press now sing that Your Majesty is a sovereign of light,” Ahan said with a smile, as Sophien sat by the lakeside of the Imperial Palace, puffing her long pipe in the morning air. “The Empire’s future holds nothing but strength...”

Sophien stared into the lake, and the still water, tugging her fishing line, shimmered like glass. The longer she looked, the more it pressed on her—an odd sense of dread washed over her, as if this moment had already happened. Here, on these waters, Sophien was certain she had once heard someone speak to her.

“... Your Majesty?”

"Hand me the paper,” Sophien said.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Sophien reached for the newspaper instead of her thoughts. Lately, freedom of the press was a principle she publicly upheld—but only because it gave weight to her silence. Sophien hoped the eyes and ears of the people would uncover the corruption her officials had buried beneath their polished titles.

However, at that moment...

“... What nonsense is this?” Sophien muttered, her expression tightening as she pointed to the bold headline stretched across the top of the paper.

Empress Sophien, Her Majesty, Blocks Deculein's Call for Scarletborn Annihilation with Act of Mercy.

Beneath the headline, every inch was crowded with text.

... It is speculated that Professor Deculein advocated not merely for the suppression of the Scarletborn, but for the complete annihilation of their people.

Such a stance, however, was met with firm resistance from Empress Sophien, a cornerstone of the Empire's moral values. However grave their past may be, the total annihilation of an entire race is an irreversible act—one that history rarely absolves...

Sophien crushed the newspaper in her hand.

Ahan gave a hesitant smile and said, “Oh... that... It appears the article quotes a conversation between Professor Deculein and the Chairwoman—”

“... Professor said this?” Sophien muttered.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ahan continued as she lowered her head. “If I may... perhaps the Professor meant to shoulder the weight of suppressing the Scarletborn alone, so it does not fall upon Your Majesty's crown...”

"Tch," Sophien murmured, reopening the paper.

Just as Ahan had said—all cruelty bore Deculein’s name, while compassion, as ever, was reserved for Sophien, the Empress alone.

“I have not the slightest idea what that man is after.”

Deculein showed nothing of himself behind his eyes, nor did he ever speak the true weight of his thoughts. Outwardly, he seemed to hold a deeper hatred for the Scarletborn than any other—and despite that, when it mattered most for the policy, he was the one noble who insisted they not be judged as a whole.

“If I may...” Ahan said hesitantly. “It may be that the Professor does not wish the people to turn their hearts against Your Majesty.”

“... Turn their hearts against me?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. They say when hatred festers with sorrow, it becomes a curse—one that rivals even the grand magic spells.”

“Hmph,” Sophien murmured with a scoff as her eyes fell to the snow globe, where Keiron was inside at her feet.

“... And for that reason, I’ve come to believe—there is no one who holds Your Majesty closer to heart than the Professor—”

“That is enough. Hold your tongue,” Sophien interrupted, tightening her grip on the fishing rod. “When the time comes, I’ll hear the truth from the Professor himself.”

No fish came, but she swept the rod through the water all the same.

“Tell the Professor to report to me once this Island of the Voice business is over. There are answers I intend to tear from him myself.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ahan said, bowing low, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Her Majesty says otherwise, but there’s no hiding that blush on her cheeks—

“Why do you laugh?”

“P-Pardon me? Oh, Your Majesty. I—”

“... See to it I have something to eat. Hunger’s starting to catch up.”

“Yes, Your Majesty! Right away!” Ahan replied, slipping away as if grateful for the excuse.

***

The Island of the Voice surfaced in the Empire’s western territorial waters. News of the phenomenon spread like wildfire, drawing hundreds of adventurers to its shores—only to be detained by Deculein and the Elite Guard of the Imperial Palace, who had already secured the region under imperial authority.

“Come on—how does it make any sense for us to be locked up like this?”

“Unbelievable. Is the Empire seriously trying to pick a fight with the Adventurer’s Guild now? What—do they want to be boycotted?!”

“Okay, sure—an island showed up in the Empire’s waters. So does that mean everything out there belongs to the Empire? What about the fishermen? They catch fish and sell them like always—shouldn’t that all go to the Empire too, then?”

The police station couldn’t hold them all, so they took over a theater by the western shore. It was packed wall to wall—like a market at noon.

"Yawwwn~" Ganesha murmured as she reached for the recently purchased radio.

You know, for an adventurer, having two or three backup plans is just common sense—so I split the team in two before we even set out, Ganesha thought.

“Dozmu, can you hear me?”

— Yes, captain.

An immediate reply came back through the radio.

“Mm-hmm. And where might you be now?” Ganesha asked with a smile.

— I’m right here.

“... What?”

Crackle—

The radio fell silent—then came a voice from somewhere nearby.

“Here, Captain. I’m right here,” Dozmu said.

Seated in the very back row of the theater, Dozmu and the rest of the adventure team gave a wave toward her.

“Ugh, that good-for-nothing idiot... Ugly as hell and can’t do a damn thing right. I swear I’ll smash his face one day,” Ganesha muttered, a vein popping in her brow.

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Ria said, turning slowly to take in the theater—at least five hundred people packed inside. “If everyone had gone to the island at once, who knows what could’ve gone wrong?”

At that moment, the theater doors creaked open, and every adventurer’s eyes turned as one as a man stepped inside, adjusting his cuff and glancing at his watch.

“Greetings,” Deculein said, his eyes sweeping across the room full of adventurers.

However, the adventurers only stared at him with nothing but hardened eyes and unwelcoming silence.

“I understand your frustrations. But the Island of the Voice falls under the Empire's jurisdiction, as it is within the Empire’s territorial waters. The law exists to be followed, and I’m sure you would all agree.”

Deculein’s voice left no room for protest, silencing any arguments before they could rise—twisted with contempt, laced with cold scorn, and framed by the faint curl of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“That’s incorrect! The treaty between the Adventurer’s Guild and the Empire clearly states—”

“If it’s a matter of legal interpretation, by all means—any time. We can debate, if that’s your wish. You’re all free to challenge me—individually or all at once,” Deculein interrupted.

A bald man—Durock, a well-known adventurer—stepped forward with his eyes blazing, ready to challenge him. But Deculein silenced him before he could finish his words.

“What—”

“Tell me—do you believe your knowledge of the law stands above mine?”

Durock glared at Deculein one last time before settling back into his seat.

“Well, there’s no winning this one,” Ganesha said with a faint chuckle. “You can’t win if it’s about law. Not against him.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm. Most of the guys you see here probably haven’t even read the Adventurers’ Code properly. The smart ones are probably off somewhere working out a real plan—Miss Sylvia, for example.”

“... That makes sense,” Ria muttered, giving a small nod.

Ria then raised her hand into the air, and in that instant, both Deculein and the adventurers turned toward her.

“Professor, does that mean adventurers aren’t allowed on the island at all?”

“No. Entry is permitted—provided they pass the proper evaluations, are assigned a specific task, and swear an oath to leave the island once it’s completed.”

“... Then who decides who gets in?”

“I do,” Deculein replied, his brow tightening—as if the answer should’ve been obvious.

***

Gulp—

Ria swallowed as she looked up at Deculein, with Ganesha standing beside her. However, the tension was already present.

In a space that felt somewhere between an evaluation room and an interrogation room, Deculein flipped through their adventurer identification and papers and inquired, “Are there only two of you in the Red Garnet Adventure Team?”

“... Sorry? There are a few more outside. Should I go get them?” Ria said.

“Go ahead and—”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Professor~ We’ve got a bit of history between us—and a few favors, too,” Ganesha said, winking at Deculein.

Deculein remained perfectly still and stared back at her, like something foreign and unworthy of response.

“... Ahem,” Ganesha murmured, her twin tails fluttering. “What do we have to do to get on that island? Or better yet—what are you really after, Professor?”

“My objective, of course, is to eliminate the Island of the Voice entirely. If the assimilation spreads any further, it will swallow the world,” Deculein replied, handing Ganesha and Ria their identification cards.

Then Deculein added, “Once the Voice takes hold, there will be no line between the living and the dead. This land will become no different from the underworld—a continent of the undead, empty of anything worth living for.”

Ria couldn’t help but be impressed. Deculein had seen straight through to the essence of the quest known as the Voice.

Is this what it means to be Yukline? Ria thought.

"And what does it take to destroy the island?”

“Find the Master of the Wavelength—and kill it. The Voice, disguised in the shape of a human. That demon is hiding somewhere on the island.”

“And I imagine there’s some kind of reward at the end of all this?” Ganesha asked, nodding.

“Beyond anything you could imagine,” Deculein answered, the ghost of a smirk in his voice.

For a moment, Ganesha’s face went still.

There were moments when the speaker defined the meaning more than the message itself. Had it come from some common noble who had said it, it might’ve sounded like empty bragging. But Deculein’s name changed everything.

A reward beyond imagination—spoken by the Head of Yukline. Mere words on their own, yet they were enough to make even Ganesha’s heart skip a beat. Even she, who had roamed the continent for over a decade and held every kind of treasure in her hands, felt her heart racing.

“And how does the evaluation and selection process work?” Ganesha asked, her tone now turning serious. “If we’re to be assigned, what kind of task will we be given?”

“If one is selected, they will enter the Voice with me. Aside from our shared objective, their actions will remain their own. I will not interfere, no matter what they choose to do there,” Deculein said with a faint smile.

“Alright, sounds good. Then how does the selection process work? Is there some kind of test?”

“There is a simple test.”

Deculein’s standards for selection were simple, that it resembled a brief pop quiz. The criteria were clear, the evaluation straightforward, and if everything went as he intended, the entire process would pass in the blink of an eye.

“To stand against me with nothing but your mental strength.”

Whether their mental strength—that single stat—was high enough to resist the influence of the Voice. Whether they could stand firm without being swayed.

“... That alone is what it requires,” Deculein concluded.

An unreadable smile curved on Deculein’s lips, for reasons known only to him.

***

... Meanwhile, deep beneath the Empire’s Intelligence Agency, Yulie searched through classified documents. Step by step, she was drawing closer to the truth behind the attempted poisoning—the very trial Her Majesty the Empress had tasked her with uncovering.

“Do you really need to know the answer to that?”

Rustle— Rustle—

Startled by a voice cutting through the silence while Yulie turned the pages, she twisted around.

“... Knight Sirio?” Yulie muttered.

There, in the darkness below, stood Sirio, the Master Swordsman—his face partially hidden in shadow with a bright smile playing on his lips.

“You nearly startled the breath out of me,” Yulie said.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. So that’s your trial? The attempted poisoning. I could see it all detailed in the documents there.”

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

“Oh—excuse me... Ahem. Are you also in the middle of a trial, Sirio? As for mine, it’s confidential. I’d appreciate it if you would keep it a secret.”

“Of course. I’m not one to speak out of turn,” Sirio replied with a smile, positioning himself beside her. “And what about the Island of the Voice? You’re not going? Most of the knights seem determined to make their way there these days.”

“If the opportunity comes, I will not turn it down. However, I’ve heard no slots have opened on the table of organization for a knight—at least, not without Deculein’s influence.”

The island for the adventurer—a place of danger and opportunity in equal measure—was open only to those with ties to Deculein. While the Imperial Knights’ Order offered minimal assistance, its management had been assigned to Delic. And under his command, any faction that had even slightly fallen out of Deculein’s favor found themselves quietly eliminated.

It was almost ridiculous—the Imperial Knights’ Order, bound to protect the Empire above all else, now moved at the command of a single professor.

“Is that so? Well, that does sound like Deculein.”

“Yes. Right now, Deculein is no better than a cartel,” Yulie said, her voice thick with hostility barely contained.

“Yulie, you still haven’t forgiven Deculein,” Sirio said with a faint smile.

“... No,” Yulie replied, slipping a few documents into her bag.

“Why?”

“... Why? Sirio... you know what he’s done.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw it with my own eyes. He really did go too far back then,” Sirio replied with a smile. “But, you know, in the end, it was all for you. Maybe he just didn’t know when to stop.”

“What are you even... Forget it. I’ll take my leave. I have no intention to argue with you, Sirio,” Yulie said, slipping her bag over her shoulder.

The backpack, stuffed with a mountain of documents, pressed against Yulie’s back—almost comically oversized for her.

“Yulie,” Sirio said, as she gripped the door handle. “Maybe, it’s time for you to stop. You might regret it once you learn the truth behind the attempted poisoning. And if you go any deeper into Deculein’s past...”

“... Pardon?”

“You could be putting yourself at risk.”

The voice that reached her was not the usual bright tone of Sirio, but something heavier—like a dark wind wrapping itself around Yulie’s body.

“Knight Sirio, what are you saying?” Yulie asked, turning back toward him.

Yulie locked her eyes on Sirio—his face unreadable and unusually still—as her hand rested on the grip at her side.

“It’s dangerous. The kind of truth that hurts once it’s known. You’ll be wounded too, Yulie. Are you still willing to risk it?” Sirio said, a faint smile touching his lips.

“...There’s nothing left for me to lose,” Yulie replied, her jaw clenched, a quiet nod following her words. “Professor Deculein destroyed the knights’ order that once meant everything to me and took the lives of the two knights who served me to the very end.”

“So? Are you trying to get revenge?” Sirio asked, the edge of a smile in his voice.

However, Yulie didn’t bother to deny it. Revenge—that was likely all it was. No noble cause, no righteous conviction. What she felt toward Professor Deculein was simple and burning—stronger than rage, deeper than grief, constant like a flame that had never gone out.

“Yes. I want revenge,” Yulie said.

In that moment, the tension in Sirio faded, and he slipped back into the man she knew.

“Alright, then I suppose there’s no need to battle you here after all,” Sirio said, a warm smile brushing his lips like a morning breeze.

“... Battle me? Sirio, why would you say something like that—”

“It’s a secret. You’ll find out the truth soon enough. I’m part of the truth you’re chasing.”

At that moment, Yulie’s eyes widened and drew out her sword and shouted, “Knight Sirio! If what you say is true, then I cannot possibly—mmph!”

Ruuuuuuustle—!

A violent wind ripped through the closed space, sending papers into a furious spiral, rising like a white veil that swallowed everything from view.

As Yulie awakened from the chaos and opened her eyes...

“... Sirio.”

By then, the knight of Iliade—Sirio—was gone, leaving nothing behind but silence.