A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 209: Rohakan’s Words (3)

"Take on the role of my proper mentor once again," I said.

If it were Rohakan, even my exacting nature would be able to accept him as a mentor worthy of the title. With that certainty, I raised my eyes and met his gaze.

"Your talent is, without a doubt, nonexistent. The fact that you've made it this far is nothing short of a miracle," Rohakan said, a smile playing on his lips as he regarded me.

I remained silent.

"Of course, I imagine you must have put in such effort. But without a change in your very soul, such an achievement would have been impossible."

A change of soul—somehow, the words weighed heavily on me.

"However, do not grieve. Even if you kill me today, you will always find the past me here, waiting for you," Rohakan concluded.

“... The past you, Rohakan?” I asked.

"Yes, I wished to stay a little longer, so I created this place. I gathered the last remnants of my life and let them sink into this place. Now, somewhere in this vineyard, there lives a Rohakan far older than myself."

I looked over the vineyard, where mana and time wove together like strands of an unseen tapestry. Their currents swirled and swayed, each thread revealing itself through Sharp Eyesight. As I watched, a passage from Rohakan’s letter rose to the surface of my mind.

Deculein, my protégé, there are still many meetings ahead of us...

"Is that why you said there were still many meetings ahead of us?" I asked.

"Yes, I have met you here more times than I can count—the one who kills me, only to find me again."

Rohakan, with the Origin of Timeline, had shaped a world of his own within this place—one where his past and future selves stretched across time.

“I see,” I said.

"Yes. So today, I need you to kill me first. Only after that will you be ready to learn. The you who returned after taking my life carried mana sharpened to its finest edge. Perhaps then, I might finally find you worth teaching—if only a little."

It was likely due to the mana quality. By killing Rohakan and enhancing it through the unique attribute and store currency, I would be able to elevate my rank to a respectable third rank—even by this world’s standards.

"... Then, I won’t delay any longer,” I replied.

"Good. Oh, and take the knights from the mountainside with you. I did not kill them—only bound them. They are probably wandering, trapped in their own memories. With your mental strength, you should be able to lead them back."

"I will," I said as I rose to my feet, channeling mana into the Snowflower Stone.

Chhht—

Blue and white crystals froze in midair, aligning into a perfect line, their edges gleamed like a finely honed blade.

"Deculein," Rohakan called, his eyes drifting past me, drawn instead to the boundless heavens above.

I tightened my grip around the hilt of my sword.

"When the time is right, see that this reaches Sophien."

Whoooosh—

A breeze of mana swept through, rustling the vine leaves with a gentle whisper, while clusters of white grapes loosened from the long, winding branches and swirled down like snowflakes caught in the wind.

“... That your curse has brought misfortune to all who have walked by your side, and it will continue to do so,” Rohakan murmured, as if speaking to the air, his eyes slipping shut.

The wind carried his voice into the distance as the faint moon waned in the midday sky.

Then, with a smile on his lips, Rohakan continued, "Yet, in the time I spent with you, I found happiness."

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“... Deculein,” Rohakan added.

“Please, go ahead.”

“Even if I were to tell you that Sophien will one day kill you, you would still remain by her side.”

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

I, Deculein would remain by Sophien’s side, bound to her as her loyal servant. Of course, it was not only because she was inextricably tied to the main quest, but also because it was simply who I was. Deculein could never betray her trust.

“... Good,” Rohakan murmured with a nod. “I’m glad to know you’ll be there. Until we meet again, my protégé.”

No more words followed, and as if marking a farewell, the wind fell silent.

"Yes, Rohakan. We will meet again soon," I said, raising my sword and bringing it down upon him.

The Snowflower Stone blade slipped through Rohakan’s throat, severing the thread of life. Even in that fleeting moment, my heart remained still, as cold as ever. At that very instant, a distant scene surfaced in my mind, lingering like an afterimage.

— ... Why?

In the dim corridors of the Imperial Palace, blood pooled from her lifeless mother, spreading across the floor and tinting the tips of young Sophien’s feet as she turned to Rohakan and whispered—”Why”, a single word, small yet heavy.

At that moment, the Rohakan of that time bit his lip and clutched his weathered wooden staff. But the words he would speak—the only words a child could be told—had already been decided.

— Yes. I am the one who killed her.

Rohakan’s confession—that he had killed the Empress—lingered in the air, his voice stained red with blood. ... As I placed his head into a wooden chest, a thought took shape that the one who ended the Empress’s life... perhaps it could have been Sophien herself.

***

... Meanwhile, Yulie and Sylvia lay among the twisting vineyard vines.

"It’s because you forced your way onto the airship," Sylvia muttered.

Or rather, they were bound. The more they struggled, the tighter the branches wound around them. In the end, they surrendered to the vines’ captivity and, with nothing left to resist, settled into quiet conversation.

"I am finding a way out," Yulie said.

"This is what happens when you force your way on. And when you’re too heavy." Sylvia muttered, her eyes narrowing as she shot her a sharp glare.

"... I would not say I am heavy."

"You weigh over one hundred and fifty pounds."

"Excuse me? Oh, what? No, that’s not true. And even if it were, it would be expected of a knight. After all, my body is built entirely of muscle—"

“Muscle pig.”

"Oh no, why would you say such a thing?!"

Sylvia shook her head, then leaned against the tangled vines and lifted her gaze to the sky.

In this space, where the air was so clear that even the mana within it became visible, simply breathing allowed Sylvia to grow. With every breath, her mana capacity expanded, deepening and strengthening in real time. It was a natural talent she had been born with, one destined to make her an Archmage.

Sylvia silently turned toward Yulie, the knight, who was groaning and struggling, but the vines had already bound her hands and feet, holding her fast and draining the last of her strength.

"How do you plan to take revenge on Deculein?" Sylvia asked, feigning indifference, as if the question were of no real importance.

Then, Yulie paused for a moment, contemplating, then muttered, “... Revenge?”

“Yes.”

Yulie’s mind was heavy with thought—searching for a way to exact her revenge on Deculein and a just path to repay the grudges of those who had suffered.

"My revenge is simple—to make Deculein confront and confess every wrongdoing he has committed with his own lips."

"What wrongdoing has he committed?" Sylvia asked.

"He has left many in ruin."

Even setting aside the knights of Freyhem, many mages saw their careers crumble at Deculein’s hands, and countless merchants were stripped of their livelihoods, their businesses seized by force. Yulie sat among them, listening to the stories of those left in his wake.

"... And many have lost their lives because of him. I am gathering evidence of his wrongdoing," Yulie concluded.

Sylvia's eyes rested on Yulie for a moment before she murmured, "My mom was one of them."

“... Pardon?” Yulie asked, her face filled with surprise.

“Deculein killed my mom,” Sylvia said.

The weight of Sylvia’s words held Yulie still, making no move, no sound—only allowing the silence to settle between them, knowing that any reaction, no matter how small, could become another wound for Sylvia.

"That’s why I am going to kill him too," Sylvia said, her golden eyes burning with a pale, spectral glow as she looked up at the sky. "He must die by my hands."

Yulie watched her in silence, offering neither sympathy nor pity, for even that would have been an insult, and she had learned this long ago. From the moment she was engaged to Deculein, she understood how suffocating it felt to be pitied. The weight of those sympathetic looks had not comforted her—they had only made her feel smaller, only deepened her suffering.

“I am the one who deserves to kill him,” Sylvia murmured, her words burning like embers in the dark.

“... Yes,” Yulie murmured, lowering her head in quiet acknowledgement.

Somehow, the weight of her own pain seemed insubstantial; against the suffering this young mage had endured, it felt nothing more than a passing shadow.

"You deserve to kill him, but... do not let your revenge turn you into his shadow."

A deep cold settled in Yulie’s chest as she spoke—not the fleeting touch of winter, but the unforgiving grip of frost. The weight of Deculein’s sins was one she could neither forget nor forgive...

“Ahh!”

At that moment, the vines loosened without warning, and Yulie plummeted toward the ground, while Sylvia vanished into the sky, carried by an eagle where no one could follow.

Crrrack—!

Yulie plunged through the vines, her body shattering through them. But a knight, by definition, was one who had mastered the limits of the human body. More instinctive than a cat, she twisted her body midair in the final moment, turning a full one hundred and eighty degrees before reaching the ground; she landed upright, her legs absorbing the impact.

“... Oh.”

And there, standing in the distance, was a man. The Professor, dressed in a suit, held a wooden box in his hands. It was Deculein, watching her in silence.

“Knight Deya, what exactly were you doing above?” Deculein inquired.

“... Yulie?”

Just then, a second voice rose from the shadows behind Deculein.

"Oh, Deputy Knight?" Yulie said, eyes widening as she looked at him.

It was Deputy Knight Isaac, and at his side stood Gawain, a knight who had once been her junior at the academy. Gawain greeted Yulie with a brief smile, but as his eyes settled on Deculein, his expression tightened, the warmth fading into something unreadable.

"Deputy Knight, what happened in there? Where is Rohakan, and why are you here with all the knights...?"

At Yulie’s question, Isaac, Gawain, and the knights of Imperial Palace stood silent, their faces marked not with mere shame, but with the weight of deep humiliation.

"... We were defeated by Rohakan, and were it not for Professor Deculein, we would not be standing here now," Isaac replied silently.

“Is that so?” Yulie asked quietly, turning to Deculein.

Then, Deculein’s eyes brushed past Yulie, Isaac, and Gawain just long enough to make his disdain clear before moving on, as if they were nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

"So many fools, incapable of following even the simplest orders," Deculein said, his voice edged with quiet contempt as a deep crease formed between his brows. "The Empress’s decree was mine to carry out; yet, blinded by delusions of grandeur, they dared to act alone, staining my duty with such disgraceful insolence..."

At his cutting words, the knights lowered their heads in silence—even Isaac, the Deputy Knight, had no choice but to do the same.

For a moment, Yulie couldn’t make sense of the situation—then, her eyes fell upon the wooden box held against Deculein’s arm.

“Do you mind if I—”

Without replying to her question, Deculein walked past Yulie, and the knights trailed behind him at a respectful distance.

“If you don't mind, may I ask for an explanation of the situation?” Yulie asked as she approached the knights.

"It has been a while, Yulie. I would have preferred our reunion under better circumstances," Isaac replied.

"It is no trouble. You remain an example for us all to follow, Deputy Knight."

"Rohakan is dead. Deculein killed him," Isaac replied, his voice weighted with resignation as he let out a slow breath.

Yulie’s eyes widened, a cold gleam washing over the pale depths like frost creeping over glass.

"Perhaps mages were always meant to face their own," Isaac murmured, his voice laced with quiet regret, as if offering an excuse to no one in particular.

As the knights’ hushed sighs faded into the air, Yulie stood in silence, her eyes trained on Deculein’s back.

***

“Your Majesty—!”

In the grand hall of the Imperial Palace, Sophien paused, her brow furrowing as a deep rumble rolled through the chamber, breaking her concentration on Deculein’s Advanced Tsumego.

“What in the...” Sophien murmured.

I was only a move away from solving it, Sophien thought.

"What is it?" Sophien demanded, glaring with the weight of impending judgment.

"Your Majesty, there is an urgent matter, no, a most joyous matter at hand, Your Majesty!" one of the officials said.

A most joyous matter? What could possibly have happened in this Empire to warrant such a thing? Sophien thought.

Sophien thought for a moment but found nothing that could be called a joyous matter. She had, of course, heard the news—Rohakan had been found. Along with it came word of the Imperial Palace knights' failure, delivered on the desperate squeals of swine unworthy of their station.

"What could possibly be so joyous—"

"Your Majesty, Professor Deculein returns, bearing Rohakan's head!"

Sophien fell silent for a moment, her eyes moving from her official’s face to the tsumego before her and back again, before finally muttering, “...Rohakan’s head."

"Yes, Your Majesty! The professor is expected to arrive at any moment!"

Sophien remained silent.

"A joyous matter, Your Majesty! Such a joyous matter for the Empire! Professor Deculein returns with the head of the Black Beast—"

"Enough," Sophien cut him off.

The official, trembling with emotion, fell silent quickly.

"That’s enough. Get out of my sight."

“... Yes, Your Majesty,” the official replied before turning and leaving.

Sophien turned her eyes back to the tsumego. The final problem—the last of Deculein’s so-called light Go puzzles—was maddening, but she pressed on and solved it. Once she was finished, her thoughts began to wander once more.

“... Rohakan. You damned fool...” Sophien murmured. “Was this all it took to bring you down?”

A strange emptiness settled over Sophien—neither pleasant nor bitter, neither satisfying nor sweet—only a vague sense of hollowness. When she had given Deculein this task, she had never expected him to capture Rohakan, let alone return with his head to place before her.

“... Deculein,” Sophien murmured, his name slipping from her lips.

Did you truly take your mentor’s head, all for my sake?

“I'm curious.”

And what words were exchanged between you and Rohakan? What kind of magical battle did you wage against him?

"... Your Majesty," the maid murmured hesitantly beside her.

Sophien spared a brief glance at the maid bowing at her side.

"Perhaps... might it be time to grant the professor a visit, Your Majesty?"

The maid, who had spoken so boldly, now raised her head with quiet caution. Perhaps a touch arrogant, but not entirely displeasing, she was regarded in silence by Sophien.

Sophien shook her head, settling into her chair with a sigh, then, in a single breath, commanded, "When that Professor returns, tell him to present himself at the Hall of Learning."