A VILLAIN'S WILL TO SURVIVE -
Chapter 340: Empress and Sophien (1)
The Floating Island’s time froze, so not even the smallest mana current, the tiniest dust particle in the air, or the stunned expressions of the astonished mages held any time, as all were stuck in a single moment because Epherene brought it about.
Click, clack— Click, clack—
Walking directly into the heart of the frozen scene, Epherene gathered into her hand all the research materials on Deculein and the lighthouse that the Floating Island’s mages had compiled.
“… It is not far off,” Epherene muttered, reading through the documents before setting them ablaze. “But I do not believe that is the end.”
That grand cause was what the Professor desired most—presumably Deculein’s death, the final end of a villain who embraced everything before vanishing. But Epherene could not, would not, accept that conclusion.
“… I will make certain it is not merely the end.”
Epherene was aware of that specific day—the day her future, more mature self, would meet her past self and Deculein.
Although that particular memory for Epherene remained indistinct, as if submerged, the melancholic expression of her face from that moment persisted like an afterimage.
“Without the Professor, I, too, would know no happiness.”
To become her complete self, Epherene had to be honest about her desires, and therefore, she wanted a life alongside Deculein—or, more precisely, that very time with him…
***
Bzzzt— Bzzzzzzzzt— Bzzzzzzzzt—
A sheet of paper was printed from the magical machine resembling a fax machine. Ria, who had been sleeping on the office sofa, was the first to open her eyes, followed by Ganesha’s yawn, and then Gawain picked up the telegram.
“… I require your attention,” Gawain said, his face hardening with intensity. “We have received urgent news.”
“Urgent news?” Ria replied, sitting up.
“News has arrived that the entire Floating Island has frozen,” Gawain said, letting out a sigh as he looked upon the paper.
“… The entire Floating Island? Show me, show me,” Ria replied, quickly looking at the urgent news.
Urgent Report: Floating Island Halted for Unknown Reasons.
Floating Island Operation Ceased: Suspected Magical Assault from Both External and Internal Sources. Communications Severed, External Access Impossible.
(First breaking news update)
“It seems something has occurred with the Floating Island… Could this, too, be Deculein’s doing?”
“… Hmm,” Ria murmured, rubbing her chin.
This was an event entirely absent from the quest line, a staggering grand incident—the immediate cessation of the Floating Island, which had never once stopped in centuries. If it were the act of a mage, it was a matter of such magnitude that they would instantly be celebrated as an archmage, and nevertheless it wouldn’t be enough.
“No.”
Therefore, it could not have been Deculein, for he was, at the very least, not an archmage of this degree.
“It’s probably someone else.”
“Were it to be someone else…”
“Do you mean Epherene~?” Ganesha said, her twin tails fluttering at Gawain’s words.
Knock, knock—
At that moment, the sound of a knock was heard.
“Who is…?”
Creeeak—
Before Ria could question their identity, the door opened, and upon seeing the faces of two cloaked strangers—no, mages—who abruptly appeared, Ria’s eyes went wide.
“… Head Professor Louina, and Ihelm?”
“Why am I merely Ihelm?” Ihelm said, grumbling as he looked around the interior. “Is this the Demonicide, then, to kill Deculein?”
Then, with a chuckle, Ihelm added, “It’s rather dilapidated. Of course, all the flashy ones want to be on Deculein’s side.”
“What happened?” Ria asked, ignoring Ihelm and turning to Louina.
“We barely escaped with our lives. We were imprisoned in Deculein’s underground prison… but Knight Delic saved us,” Louina replied with a bitter smile.
“Knight Delic did?”
“Yes,” Louina said, shrugging her shoulders as she hung her robe on the hook. “It’s a long story. We almost became Deculein’s Magicore, but anyway… what’s that?”
“Oh, it’s urgent news.”
“Urgent news?”
“Yes,” Ria replied, handing the urgent news to Louina. “They say the Floating Island has stopped.”
“… Stopped? The Floating Island is?”
“Yes.”
As Louina read the urgent news, her expression grew serious.
Bzzzt— Bzzzzzzzzt— Bzzzzzzzzt—
At that moment, the magical machine resembling a fax machine once more printed a sheet, and Ria, without much thought, approached and looked at it.
Draft Document
Should the existing Deculein and Lighthouse document on the Floating Island be lost, a special protocol has been enacted to ensure a copy is transmitted to the Demonicide Department. Kindly continue your research.
“… What is this?” Ria muttered, her eyes widening.
Louina and Ihelm turned to look at Ria.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“A document came from the Floating Island. It says it’s a draft document. I think the Floating Island even prepared for something like this ahead of time.”
“… A Draft Document? Is it alright if I have a look?” Louina asked hesitantly.
“Of course, aren’t you joining our team?” Ria replied without hesitation.
Even if I just glanced, it’s a document covered in spells and magic circles, so I can’t read it anyway, Ria thought.
It was about their team, Demonicide—a division formed directly under the Empress for the purpose of assassination, specifically of Deculein.
“… Yes,” Louina replied, nodding with a somewhat reluctant expression.
Ria then offered the document with a bright smile, and the moment it was handed over, Louina’s expression turned serious as she began to interpret it, while Ihelm peered over her shoulder.
After a certain amount of time went by…
“… There is only half of it here. This is far too little to discern anything. Neither interpretation nor analysis is possible,” Louina muttered, as if in despair.
“Then…”
“Well, we have no choice. We’ll just have to continue the research, won’t we, Ihelm?”
“Tch,” Ihelm murmured, clicking his tongue.
“But for two people, there’s not enough time or manpower. Are there only two mages in this team?” Louina asked, turning back to Ria with a small smile.
“… Yes, for now, it is.”
“Then… do you mind if I write a letter?”
“A letter?”
“Yes, I have quite a few protégés who follow me. They will be able to assist with this research,” Louina replied to Ria’s question, a rather proud expression on her face.
***
… The very next day, Louina assembled her protégés just as she had stated. Ihelm also sought out dependable imperial mages, and the Scarletborn contributed a select few exceptionally talented mages.
The total force numbered close to two hundred, and the cramped Demonicide headquarters was instantly packed with mages and, to ensure secrecy, a concealing barrier was then installed.
“… Wow, that’s impressive,” Ria muttered, her eyes wide at the sight.
A considerable number of mages had attached themselves to the task of analyzing a spell devised by Deculein, and by no one else.
“This spell… we are hitting a wall with it.”
“I apologize, Professor, but I understand not a single hair’s breadth of it.”
“… Is this really the magic we know?”
However, they had yet to find a single clue—no, they couldn’t even properly begin. Most of the mages were realizing the immense gap even in a small part of Deculein’s theory, sighing deeply in frustration.
“Meow.”
As if from nowhere, a cat landed on Ria’s shoulder—it was Empress Sophien.
“Ria.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I will see to it that the Imperial Palace is placed on lockdown.”
“… Sorry? You are going to place it on lockdown, Your Majesty?”
“Because I must have time for consideration.”
“But…”
Ria thought of the Imperial Palace lockdown as a potential quest line, yet no such event existed, as it was likely the Empress’s unilateral decision.
“The duration will not be more than ten days.”
However, Sophien’s following words were filled with sorrowful declarations.
“But you are to prepare yourselves,” Sophien continued, her voice hushed. “Prepare for the most absolute justification to kill that man…”
The slight clouding of her voice, as though it were dampened by water, directly conveyed the emotion Sophien held within.
“The one I have loved first, and will love last, the one I must indeed kill…”
***
At the Yukline mansion in the Capital, I looked up at the night sky tonight.
Suddenly, a tremendous roar reverberated, as streaks of mana painted themselves across the dark sky, and light was born, then spread, then died in a momentary cycle of existence, while thunder and lightning split the heavens, crisscrossed by streaks of rain, and then rain, contained within darkness, began to fall.
“It would appear my body cannot withstand a full month,” Yulie said.
Though Yulie spoke of her body, I placed my hand on my heart.
“Likewise.”
A smile I didn’t recognize touched my lips as I looked back at Yulie, and her fingertips were already stiff and blue, yet a smile filled her entire face, just like mine now.
“Yulie,” I called.
“Yes,” Yulie replied.
“I was unable to protect you,” I said.
“Do not trouble yourself. The path of protecting the Professor is the path of my being protected,” Yulie replied.
“… Is that so?”
I reached out my hand to Yulie, and Yulie took hold of it.
It felt cold.
A chill from a mere finger touched my heart. It was Yulie, a puppet on the verge of breaking—no—already broken—who endured merely by continually freezing her own body with her pervasive coldness.
“… How sorrowful,” I said, embracing Yulie in my arms.
“Yes, I feel the same way,” Yulie replied, placing her hand on my back and brushing with both arms as a coldness passed from her to me.
Drip, drip…
The sound of rain from outside seeped in.
“The rain is frequent, though it is not the season for monsoons,” Yulie said from within my arms.
With a smile, I released Yulie’s embrace, and once more looked at the rain beyond the window.
“It signifies that God is approaching.”
“… God,” Yulie repeated, then pouted her lips as she looked at me. “The God who brought you such torment?”
“… Indeed.”
“It is my wish to kill that God.”
“Impossible. It seems God has, after all, ordained my end,” I replied, a smile gracing my lips at Yulie’s charming complaint.
God might have made me Deculein for Deculein’s end, and this meeting, this pain, this sadness, this parting, this happiness—all of it might have been preparation arranged solely for this very moment.
“However, do not concern yourself,” I added, placing my hand upon Yulie’s cheek and brushing away its coldness. “I will not be defeated, not even by God.”
“… Yes, I know that.”
“But, to that end, your contribution will be necessary.”
“That, too, I know,” Yulie replied, smiling sweetly as she buried her face in my chest.
Thus, even Yulie’s very small gestures came to me with infinitely great joy and presented me with uncontrollable trembling, and she was like a gift given to Deculein on his life’s path, his last happiness.
“… Indeed, they are needlessly clever and they might realize it all too soon.”
Even now, Louina and Ihelm were analyzing my lighthouse, and before that day came they would realize my will and then might attempt to stop me.
“I require you to stop those who attempt to stop me, Yulie.”
“Yes, of course,” Yulie replied, a determined nod of her head. “I will stop them.”
— We bring you a breaking news report.
With a sizzling static, the radio whirred, and Yulie and I turned to look at it.
— Early this morning, Empress Sophien ordered all gates of the Imperial Palace locked.
It was an unexpected, sudden action from Sophien.
***
Sophien locked the Imperial Palace doors, needing a moment to gather her thoughts alone.
“… It pains me,” Sophien muttered, lying on the empty Imperial Palace bed, merely letting out a dry laugh at her own weakness and pathetic state.
Until this point, Sophien had thought she had the body and mind of an Iron Man, under the impression that, having already gone through so much pain and torment, she would be incapable of further suffering.
“… Indeed, it pains me.”
However, Sophien was not the body and mind of an Iron Man as she believed, and Deculein appeared to be taking things far too easily, which only fueled her anger and made him more despicable.
Nevertheless, just the thought of the near future, or even imagining herself impaling his heart with her sword, brought Sophien profound agony and unbearable sadness.
At times, her breath caught, and at others, her body would become unresponsive. Even for an Empress who carried the weight of everything, there were burdens merely too heavy to bear, tasks she would not tolerate.
“Your Majesty…” Ahan said, her voice filled with concern.
With only her eyes, Sophien, lying on her bed, watched the rain outside her window. It was raining over every garden of the Imperial Palace—the winter garden, the spring garden, the autumn garden, and the summer garden.
This is unprecedented. I cannot tell if these are the tears of my heart, falling upon this place, Sophien thought.
“He seems to take it lightly,” Sophien said. “He must believe I could kill him with ease.”
Sophien ran her hand over the corners of her eyes.
“No.”
Tears stained her hand, yet Sophien’s heart ached even more.
“That is untrue.”
Her voice trembling, Sophien exhaled a breath tinged with tears.
“How could I kill a man I love?”
The emotion of love, a feeling Sophien experienced for the first time in her life, brought her immense pain—a searing pain—yet she refused to give it up. For as much as it hurt, it also felt sweet, and even the pain, in a strange way, seemed like a growing pain, proving she was alive.
“If I were to kill him.”
Sophien’s sole torment had always been this—whether she could kill Deculein, whether she could manage to live without him.
“I wouldn’t be able to live like a human anymore,” Sophien muttered, staring blankly as she shook her head.
It was beyond her capacity, for the emotion she had once recognized—the love she had once given to Deculein—was something she found hard to relinquish—no, utterly impossible to ever let go of.
“I would rather die for him than—”
“Your Majesty,” Ahan interrupted the Empress.
With a sidelong glance, Sophien looked down at Ahan, who was holding a crystal orb to her ear, as if receiving a report.
“… What is it?” Sophien replied.
“Deculein is said to have arrived,” Ahan said, her face clouded with a troubled look.
“… Send him away. I genuinely will not grant an audience this time.”
In the Land of Destruction, that bastard expects me to kill him, demanding his own death from the one who claims to love him—what a rotten son of a bitch, the absolute worst, Sophien thought.
“Yes, Your Majesty. However…” Ahan said, her head tilted slightly as if uncertain about the message she had delivered, but she continued, “… Deculein is said to be at the main gate, and he refuses to leave until Your Majesty gives him word…”
When Sophien furrowed her brow, Ahan projected the crystal orb linked to the front entrance. Inside the orb, Deculein stood at the gate, already caked in mud and soaked by the storm. Without the help of any spell, he seemed aware of Sophien’s distress and hoped to change her mind.
“Unbelievable…” Sophien said, watching Deculein as she bit her lip, the crimson blood from the broken skin stained against her white teeth. “That man has no propriety whatsoever.”
Even while muttering to herself, Sophien found herself loathsome, and her heart, which pounded merely at the sight of Deculein, was something she resented beyond measure.
“Hah.”
Sophien could only manage a dry laugh.
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