A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 184: Southern Advance of the Demonic Beasts (1)

"Snore... snore... snore..."

As Epherene quickly fell into a deep sleep, I planted Dream Link in her mind. Though the spell was complex and did not align with my natural talent, the connection established through the Wood Steel ensured its completion.

Whoooosh...

As the whisper of the wind faded, signaling the completion of the magical connection, my eyes fell on Epherene’s peaceful sleeping face. Though she often stumbled through her actions and was completely unaware of her own abilities, there was quite a charm when she kept her mouth shut—an emotion I must have felt through the lens of Kim Woo-Jin.

“... What a fool,” I muttered, reopening my book.

Recently, I had immersed myself in the study of all things related to knights—swordsmanship, martial techniques, training methods, and breathing techniques, to name but a few. By that time, I dared to believe I knew more, and with greater precision, than most knights ever would.

Rustle... Rustle...

Turning the pages of my book, I waited for Epherene to fall into her dreams. If Decalane had appeared again, the Dream Link would have alerted me.

Rustle... Rustle...

Before I knew it, I had finished an entire book. Without pause, I reached for the next—a book on Masterful Fencing techniques—and opened it.

At that moment...

“Umm... Professor...”

At the sound of a sudden voice, I pulled myself away from the pages of my book.

"You know, I told you that I met Decalane in my dream, right...?"

Epherene, who had been asleep, was now awake, her sparkling eyes locked on me. Closing my book, I waited to hear what she might say next.

“But, you know... it’s just... that jerk—no, I mean, Professor, your father—”

“You may choose to address him in those terms, that jerk," I interrupted.

To both Deculein and Kim Woo-Jin, Decalane had been a man undeserving of the title of father. After all, Deculein himself had once raised his sword to bring about his end.

"... Yes, Professor. Do you know what that jerk said to me?"

Epherene narrowed her eyes, hiding her emotions as a bead of sweat formed on her brow and her chest thudded with each racing beat.

"That jerk said my dad hated me, you know! Just as much as he hated you, Professor, he hated me too," Epherene said. “That doesn’t make sense, right?”

I looked at her in quiet stillness, offering no words in response.

Truth be told, Kagan Luna despised his own child, Epherene, so much so that he gave her a name that meant Falling. I could not say I understood the reason—no, perhaps I did, in some vague way. Through the quiet clarity of my Comprehension, the unknown threads of truth slowly came together, like scattered pieces of a puzzle forming an image I hadn’t expected to see.

"Quiet yourself and rest now," I said.

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Epherene had no mother, nor had she ever seen her. Perhaps her mother had passed away bringing her into this world, or maybe there had been another story buried in the shadows. Whatever the cause, it was clear that Kagan’s despise for Epherene had stemmed from that.

However...

"Dawn has arrived."

I didn’t want to say such words to her. Soon, Epherene’s face fell, her eyes dropping to the floor as she tightly clutched the blanket in her small hands.

“... Yes, Professor,” Epherene said, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Again, she closed her eyes.

Whoooosh—

At that moment, the wind howled, its cry laden with an ominous echo that hung in the air.

“So, you’ve come,” I said.

As if in response, the world flipped upside down, and in an instant, the Voice swallowed me whole.

~

A dark and hollow space stretched, still as if submerged beneath the ocean’s depths. In the center of it all there was a lone child—young Epherene.

“Wahh, wahh, wahh.”

As I looked at Epherene, crying and unable to walk, it struck me—that the Voice was trying to reveal a glimpse of her past.

“... Kagan, Epherene is your daughter.”

A voice came from an unseen place, and I turned toward it.

“Hmph.”

Kagan Luna stood with his mother, Epherene’s grandmother, by his side.

“Also, the daughter of that bitch,” Kagan said, glaring daggers as he watched his child crawl on the floor. “I can’t stand to look at that face or that damn ashen gray hair.”

Misunderstanding his glance, the child laughed brightly, stretching out her small hands toward her father, as if pleading to be held, as though she were born to be loved.

Kagan clenched his fists, his face contorted with anger as he growled, "Do whatever you want with her—kill her or let her live. I won’t raise a child like that."

***

... Did my dad really hate me? Epherene thought blankly, the doubt creeping into her mind like mist and slowly spreading.

I know it’s not true. I keep telling myself it isn’t, but... why did he hate me? What did I do wrong? Were his smiles, his letters, and those words filled with care and love... were they all lies?

If my dad really hated me, why didn’t Deculein ever tell me? Did he think I wouldn’t believe him? Well, maybe he was right. I wouldn’t have believed it. I probably would’ve just exploded at him, blinded by anger. ... But what if that’s not it?

Epherene recalled something Deculein had once said, a memory that stayed with her as she reflected on what had brought her back to magic. It was after her father’s death that she decided to become a mage, her determination fueled by a singular purpose—to take revenge on Deculein.

... Could it be that Dad placed the weight of his revenge against Deculein on me? Did he place on me what he couldn’t finish himself? And Deculein... did he know all of this and still take me in? Why? Why would he?

“Epherene.”

At that moment, Epherene opened her eyes, her body drenched in cold sweat.

“Oh...” Epherene murmured.

Deculein was sitting in his chair, and outside the window, the faint glow of the early morning sun signaled the start of a new day.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Deculein asked.

Epherene stared at him in silence, still lost in her thoughts, before shaking her head and replying, "No... it wasn’t a nightmare... I was just lost in thought for a moment... Have you been here the entire time, Professor...?"

“The link magic can only be maintained when the distance is close.”

“Oh...”

"Your condition appears to be rather serious. From now on, you will sleep where I can keep an eye on you."

“Oh, yes, Prof... Wait, no! What?!” Epherene exclaimed, sitting up suddenly in bed.

At that moment, Epherene flinched, her clothes soaked in sweat and sticking to her, slightly transparent under the light.

“Oh my!” Epherene cried out, quickly crossing her arms over her chest to cover herself.

Deculein looked at Epherene in disbelief.

“W-w-where are you looking at?!”

“... Before I end you.”

“W-what?!”

Thwack—!

Deculein flicked Epherene’s forehead, sending a searing pain through her head that rang in her skull.

“Ahh!”

“Get up.”

“Ahh! Ahhhhh!”

"There is much work for us to do together starting today," Deculein said, then left the room.

“... Ah. Ahhh...” Epherene muttered, rubbing her swollen forehead as she followed behind him. “Oh, by the way, Professor. What happened with the Voice? I slept fine.”

"Are you claiming that you slept well after sweating like that?" Deculein said.

“But it wasn’t a nightmare,” Epherene replied.

“I went to the Voice alone.”

"... Oh? Why? Didn't you say we were going to go together?"

“The Voice showed your past, but you cannot step into a past of your own.”

Epherene tilted her head, confused by his words, but her face quickly flushed red as she grabbed Deculein’s suit and exclaimed, "Ahh! What?! How much did you see? W-why were you snooping around in my past?"

“Silence.”

“How much did you see? Tell me, how much—?!”

Deculein paid the brute no mind, brushing her off without hesitation.

***

Rekordak, now home to the mountain villagers, felt almost like a city. Each morning, the inviting aroma of cooked rice filled the air, blending with cheerful conversation and bursts of laughter that seemed to spill from every corner. The guards, the villagers, and even the prisoners carried smiles, but all of them were destined to die the moment the walls gave way.

“Have all the automatic crossbows been installed?” I asked, patrolling the walls early in the morning.

The path atop the wall was shrouded in biting cold, but the guards, wrapped in freshly issued padded coats, seemed ready to endure it.

“Yes, Professor! A total of five hundred crossbows have been installed along the walls. Furthermore, with the villagers collecting firewood and ore on a daily basis, we should encounter no difficulties in restocking our arrow supply," the guard reported with enthusiasm.

“Oh my, was there a mine here as well?” asked Louina, the new secretary.

"I didn't know that," added Epherene, the second secretary, who seemed to be wondering as she stood beside her.

“Haha, we also didn't know about it, but the villagers knew surprisingly well. Thanks to them, we were able to find out,” the guard replied.

“Oh~”

Epherene and Louina nodded in quiet acknowledgment of the guard’s words.

"Then, would it be alright if I tried firing one of these crossbows...?" Epherene asked.

Epherene seemed fascinated by the new technology, and when I looked down, my eyes caught sight of Yulie in the training ground below.

"Hup! Hup!"

Yulie was blindly pushing herself, her routine consisting of nothing but training and sparring as the wave drew near. But that training was harmful to her. With her weak heart, there were far better ways to prepare.

Furthermore, after observing her sparring sessions up to this point, I noticed that her swordsmanship had issues—specifically, certain habits. Yulie's kind-hearted nature surfaced during sparring and duels, revealing itself as a source of bad habits that worked against her.

I wanted to convey that fact and correct it, but no clear solution came to mind...

Then, I found the perfect method.

"Sirio."

“... Hmm?” Sirio muttered.

Leaning against the wall, letting the breeze wash over him, was Sirio, the Master Swordsman—a handsome man of elegant looks, Deputy Knight of the Iliade Knights' Order, and a former colleague of Deculein.

"As the supervisor of Rekordak, I have a task to assign to you," I said.

***

“Hah..."

Since Yulie’s greatest weakness was her stamina, she focused entirely on running and building her cardiovascular strength.

"Hah... Hah..."

The training ground at the newly built headquarters of the Rekordak Knights' Order was beyond measure; however, the daily goal remained one hundred laps. When her heart threatened to give out, she pushed forward with pure determination, and when even that wasn’t enough, she forced herself onward, spurred by the memory of Deculein’s look, full of disdain and contempt.

"Hup!"

Yulie fueled her run with that anger, completing all one hundred laps.

"Ugh... Hah."

Whoooosh—

Sweat poured from her like rain as she clutched her chest, which felt ready to shatter. Then, a refreshing gust of wind brushed against her.

"Yulie~" said Sirio, the Master Swordsman.

"Yes, Sirio. What brings you here?" Yulie asked, greeting him as she brushed the sweat from her face.

"Would you like to have a quick spar?"

"... A quick spar?"

"Yeah!" Sirio replied cheerfully.

Isn’t it before the scheduled sparring time? Yulie thought.

Yulie blinked and asked, "Why are you all of a sudden... sniff, sniff."

Yulie instinctively sniffed the air, catching a familiar scent on Sirio—the distinct fragrance of a noble, recognized by everyone in Rekordak.

“... Have you met with the professor?”

“Huh?” Sirio stammered, visibly caught off guard, as lying was not his strong suit, and beads of cold sweat formed on his forehead.

"So, you've met him," Yulie said, narrowing her eyes.

"H-how did you know?"

“... It was only a guess.”

Yulie chose not to reveal how she knew. Mentioning the scent would only cause him to conceal it more carefully next time, and she preferred to keep that knowledge to herself.

“And what business does the professor have with you this time?” Yulie asked.

“Umm, well...” Sirio mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he pulled out a piece of paper.

"What is that?"

"A script."

"A script?"

“Yeah. Everything Deculein analyzed about your swordsmanship is written here,” Sirio said, holding up the paper.

“... What? What do you mean by that? An analysis of my swordsmanship?”

"Yeah. Oh, but it’s not just you—Deculein’s been giving feedback on the swordsmanship of the other knights too. Isn’t that interesting? Deculein is an expert of theory—"

Snatch!

Yulie grabbed the script from Sirio and, with her eyes wide open, quickly read the words across the page.

Yulie’s swordsmanship exhibits an exceptionally crude habit—an inelegant and disappointing flaw. It bears little distinction from the tireless and inept persistence of a brute.

To begin, Yulie has a clear tendency to telegraph her movements, even before swinging her sword, thereby exposing her intended path. With focused observation, one could predict every trajectory with precision, as if her actions were an open book.

Furthermore, she exhibits the absurd tendency of accommodating her opponent’s weaknesses—an illogical and frankly unbecoming habit. Pretending to be in pain in her presence is sure to produce highly entertaining results.

Until now, the focus has been on her bad habits. Let us proceed to analyze the technical shortcomings in her swordsmanship...

“Persistence of a brute... Technical shortcomings...” Yulie muttered, her expression becoming cold as she read on, and the chill in the air seemed to gather around her, freezing the space in its hold.

Sirio shivered, his body trembling as if the cold had seeped into his bones.

"By someone who’s never even held a sword himself..." Yulie murmured through clenched teeth, her fingers pressing to her temples as if to steady the storm of dizziness clouding her mind.

Sirio gave a bitter smile and said, “Ha, haha. Look, I get it. I’d also be upset if someone criticized my swordsmanship. But if you read it carefully, it’s not entirely wrong—”

Yulie’s eyes flashed with intense fury, and Sirio’s words faltered into silence.

Crinkle—!

Clenching her teeth, Yulie crumpled the script in her hands and muttered, “Sirio, are you on Deculein’s side?”

“Come on~ I’m not on anyone’s side. We’re all just former colleagues.”

"Alright, fine," Yulie said, stuffing the script into her pocket and walking forward with loud, pounding steps like King Kong.

“Wait, w-where are you going?!”

“If the professor is skilled enough to analyze my swordsmanship, then perhaps I should spar with him instead of you, Sirio. I must say, I wasn’t aware that swordsmanship fell within his areas of expertise.”

"... Huh?! Whoa! Hey! Are you seriously planning to beat up a mage?" Sirio exclaimed.

“It will be a sparring match,” Yulie said as she ascended the wall to meet Deculein, who stood waiting at the top.

***

The Hall of Learning within the Imperial Palace, a place far from the Northern Region, offered a haven of warmth and comfort. There, Sophien sat, still absorbed in Deculein’s formal letter, though she was not alone—around her gathered a dozen or so officials.

"They are, without a doubt, the most eloquently written paragraphs," one of the officials remarked.

Sophien glanced in their direction, and the three officials who had volunteered to transcribe Deculein’s letter were filled with praise and admiration from the very first line as they began reading it.

"The prose is exquisite, and the handwriting is truly a work of art. It is a perfect harmony of elegant script and eloquent composition, presented in a style unlike anything I have ever seen before."

The letter spanned dozens of pages, each line elegantly penned in Deculein’s own handwriting. The officials, peering through magnifying spectacles, studied the prose with the care of unraveling a delicate tapestry, thread by thread.

"Is that so?" Sophien muttered, her tone curt.

"Yes, Your Majesty. There has never been a letter as unprecedented in history. It speaks with unfiltered loyalty to Your Majesty, humbles itself without losing its noble pride, and overflows with innovative and exquisite expressions—"

“Furthermore, Professor Deculein has humbly requested that Your Majesty temper your contempt for your subjects,” said the senior minister, Romelock.

Sophien threw Romelock a piercing glare, but Deculein's words held an unshakable truth.

Placing too much trust in her subjects was unwise, yet completely disregarding them was no better. It was enough to cut down only those pawns of the Altar. Indeed, Sophien had gathered her officials in the grand hall, partly under the influence of Deculein’s words.

"However, I find myself curious. Why would Professor Deculein go to such lengths to protect Rekordak? It cannot be merely for the position of Chairman at the Mage Tower..." an unnamed official murmured, directing the question to Romelock.

Rumors abounded that Deculein’s obsession with the Chairman position and the astronomical sums he had invested were the reasons behind his actions. However, Romelock, unable to voice this directly, only shook his head in silence.

"I have discussed the matter of the expedition to the Land of Destruction with Deculein," Sophien said.

“... Pardon?” Romelock said, his eyes widening. “Your Majesty, how could it be that you would involve yourself in such a crucial matter with that professor alone—”

“Rekordak is indispensable for the expedition to the Land of Desolation.”

The officials looked up at Sophien, and a heavy silence blanketed the room, consuming the faint whispers that had lingered moments earlier.

"Deculein adorned his letter with a flourish of elaborate words, but at its core, his resolve was clear—to be of service to me.”

"... Oh."

"Protecting Rekordak must be his way of proving his sincerity through deeds, not mere words—and certainly not at my command. Foolish as it may seem, that is precisely what he chose to do," Sophien said.

Sophien added, “Deculein is not maniacal for power. The position of Chairman at the Mage Tower? If I allowed it, he could take that title by tomorrow. There is no need for him to sacrifice himself at Rekordak.”

The officials fell silent, a quiet hush settling over the room. Only then did they begin to understand why Deculein had gone to Rekordak and why he was so obsessed with protecting it. It was nothing like the whispered rumors of madness, ambition, or lust for power. Instead, every action he took was driven by loyalty.

"My speculation is that he sought to conceal my intentions regarding the expedition to the Land of Destruction by inventing the excuse of seeking the Chairman position, allowing rumors to flourish—that his defense of Rekordak stemmed from ambition alone. After all, like me, he is no stranger to the intricacies of politics."

In the Imperial Palace, it was widely believed that even Deculein’s smallest gestures or words carried calculated political strategy. Sophien felt a quiet satisfaction, convinced she had unraveled the workings of his mind.

"It reflects the devotion of a true loyalist, Your Majesty," one official said, choking with emotion.

Since it was the duty of the theocracy to rein in Deculein, Romelock glared at the official and said, "However, Your Majesty—"

“You may all leave now,” Sophien commanded, dismissing the assembly with a single wave.

Empress Sophien’s command was final, compelling the officials to bow in submission before quietly leaving.

"Yes, Your Majesty. May you rest well..."

As the officials departed, Sophien remained seated alone, still holding the letter. She had read it countless times—dozens, perhaps hundreds—and with each reading, new layers of meaning were revealed, as if the words themselves were alive, carrying a mysterious depth.

Sophien let out a quiet sigh, her thoughts on Deculein—the one who had been by her side for over a century. Of course, those decades of shared time no longer existed for him, which made her wonder.

“Why do you offer such loyalty to me? What reason lies behind it? That is what I wish to understand,” Sophien murmured, taking her pen and paper in hand.

The Empress began composing a reply to her loyal subject in the distant Northern Region, the pen gliding over the parchment.