A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 264: Phantom Ball (3)

Sunlight spilled through the window, warmth curling in like fine grains of light, awakening the world as dawn’s glow burned slowly beyond the horizon.

— Deculein.

In the pale dawn glow, Iggyris’s voice faded into silence, and Deculein responded with a subtle bow, as if marking that everything from here on was his to shoulder. Without a word, Deculein stepped into the corridor, Yulie in his arms, and stood by the window, watching the rising dawn—the pale light of morning spreading across the Empire.

“… Professor,” Yulie said, her fingers fidgeting behind her back. “Professor…”

No further words came. Yulie’s chest constricted, her heart straining as if it might fracture, and her legs threatened to give way. But, she held her ground, because a knight never crumbles.

“… I.”

Yulie looked up at Deculein—the man who held her in his arms, lost in thought. Now that she understood him at last, too late, her heart ached, suffocating as if she were drowning. Her thoughts knotted together so tightly that it felt like they might snap, her breath catching short, her chest tight and heavy under the crushing confusion.

“I…”

Words, questions—too many to name—swirled in Yulie’s mind, but each long, trembling sentence broke down, fragmenting before it could rise. All that remained was a single word—simple to the point of childishness, heartbreakingly insufficient, nowhere near enough to express what she felt.

“… I am sorry.”

Deculein gave no response, not a single muscle betraying even the slightest twitch on his face.

In contrast, Yulie’s shoulders dropped as she looked down, weighed down by the weight of her own disappointment.

Is it because the apology came too late? Yulie thought.

“Yulie, I am not a man who deserves your apology,” Deculein said, without looking her way but seeing the light of morning spill across the sky outside the window.

Deculein talked about himself, a dry sneer—so perfectly his that it almost felt like a facade slipping into place.

“I’ve killed far too many, yet never once have I felt the weight of guilt.”

Yulie let her head fall and rested her forehead against his chest.

“When the cause is just, I will trample whatever stands in the way.”

Deculein reached for Yulie’s shoulder but caught himself, clenching his teeth as he forced himself to hold back. Instead, with Telekinesis, he pulled a small object from her inner pocket.

“And if challenged, I favor the blade over argument.”

The item dropped into Deculein’s hand, and Yulie’s eyes widened as she stared at what he held.

“As you say, I am a villain—damned beyond redemption, destined to face every soul I’ve slain when my time in hell comes. A vile villain,” Deculein concluded.

“Professor, that’s—”

The mana stone her guardian angel had given her, containing a video from that day—the only piece of evidence that remained.

“It’s not your fault, Yulie. If there’s any fault in this world, it belongs to the God who created us.”

Yulie stretched out her hand for the mana stone.

Crunch—!

However, before Yulie could reach for it, the mana stone cracked and crumbled in Deculein’s hand.

Whoooooosh…

The fragments of the mana stone hit the corridor, its glittering debris scattered, and from them, the video bled out, projecting scenes from that day in broken flashes, like shards of a mirror.

Yulie’s eyes trembled as she stared at the flashing videos.

“Yulie, death is closing in on you.”

Plop— Plop—

Tears dropped onto the fractured mana stone, and as water, dust, and mana mingled together, pale blue smoke curled into the air.

“I admit it. Wanting to keep you alive, to protect you up close, was nothing but my own selfishness,” Deculein continued, letting Yulie slip from his arms and gripping her shoulders to help her stand on her feet.

“Therefore, now…” Deculein added, his fingers wiping away the tears from Yulie’s eyes. “I will let you go and teach myself not to love you any longer.”

The morning sun rose completely, and daylight poured through the window, falling over Deculein.

“The engagement is over, Yulie,” Deculein said, his eyes locked on hers.

Just looking at her was enough to make his chest tighten—Yulie, so heartbreakingly lovely that he wanted to hold her close right then. Deculein cupped her cheek, and though Yulie’s breath hitched beneath his touch, she didn’t resist.

“Now live your life,” Deculein concluded, his hand brushing Yulie’s neck and pressing on her pulse point.

At that moment, Yulie’s eyes opened wide in a flash of clarity—but her spirit was already worn thin and couldn’t take anymore.

“No…”

Right after Yulie let out her last broken breath, she slumped onto Deculein’s shoulder, and he gently ran his fingers through her hair, holding her close. Then, without a word, Deculein looked up past Yulie, his eyes locking on a man standing there. But it wasn’t just one—Gawain, Isaac, Ihelm, and Adrienne were all there too, staring, frozen in place with their eyes wide.

“Take her—and leave.”

At Deculein’s words, Ihelm hurried to Yulie’s side, gathered her onto his back, and pushed himself up, glancing back and asking, “Deculein, you’re not coming?”

“My work here remains unfinished,” Deculein said.

“… Alright, then.”

Ihelm didn’t let curiosity get the best of him. On the other hand, Adrienne’s eyes sparkled, a tangle of curiosity and excitement written all over her face as she moved to get closer.

“What?! What just happened?! Professor Deculein?! Oh, what the?!”

Ihelm’s hand reached out and caught her by the hair.

“What are you doing?! Let go of me!” Adrienne barked.

“Just come.”

“It looked so fun—oh no, no! I wanna know what happens later, please!”

Adrienne was pulled away by Ihelm as he led her down the corridor, disappearing from view. Gawain and Isaac gave Deculein a bow, their faces hard, before following.

… The corridor had fallen into deep silence, and Deculein stood at the window, staring into the deep shadows gathering in the corner.

“I have a question I would like to ask.”

— … What is it?

Out of the shadowed corner came a voice from the depths of a well.

“Did you really never love Yulie?” Deculein asked.

— The woman I loved more than my own life gave her life for this child, over her own.

Iggyris paused in silence before releasing a long sigh, his voice steeped in regret, and sorrow coloring every word.

— It would be a lie to say I resent Yulie for it. But even a knight like myself wasn’t immune to weakness when thinking of someone I had loved. Every time I saw that child, I couldn’t help but think of my wife.

Deculein turned his head.

— The cause of my wife’s death was freezing to death.

Sometimes, a child born with powerful magical talent and a legendary bloodline can inflict illness—or even death—on their mother.

— As she gave birth, her body turned to ice from within, freezing her from the inside out. My wife died in excruciating pain.

As Iggyris had said, Yulie was the child of winter—born from Freyden’s purest bloodline, her first breath stealing her mother’s life with frost.

— … I was too weak and limited.

Unlike Zeit or Josephine, Yulie had been born with a different fate—the curse of being named the main character in the world of the game.

— Professor, I was never capable of loving that child the way you could.

At that moment, Deculein’s face contorted, his jaw tightening with anger and contempt that he could no longer contain.

Bang—!

“How pathetic,” Deculein said, bringing his staff down onto the floor, the sound slicing through the hallway.

— Are you going to leave?

“… My work here remains unfinished,” Deculein replied.

Before the sun climbed high, before the afterlife’s gate clanged shut, there was unfinished business left for Deculein to complete.

***

… With the brilliance of the invisible sword forged from the Empress’s mana blazing through the air, Sophien moved like a tempest, unleashing the full extent of her natural talent.

Squeeeeeelch—!

Sophien’s sword sliced clean through as their bodies split apart, her crimson eyes flashing from within the carnage, blood spattering across her pale skin and flaming red hair, stained by the sticky gore of those born beneath her. And yet, the Empress pressed on without hesitation, unshaken by the filth of flesh and blood.

Shhhhhhhrip—!

The Empress’s sword cut through her enemies like butter, her swordsmanship graceful and perfectly elegant with every move. Sophien had mastered the Imperial Palace’s perfected swordsmanship, built from the distilled essence of the art, her movements stronger than any warrior’s and more beautiful than even the most skilled ballerina’s.

“… This is exactly why I live in a constant state of ennui.”

However, the Empress’s display of swordsmanship was over in less than five minutes, as the Altar’s soldiers, who had dared to attack the Imperial Palace, were slaughtered to the last, their bodies strewn across the floor.

Sophien scoffed, waved her mana to push aside the scattered limbs on the floor, and turned her eyes elsewhere.

“Are you still in one piece?” Sophien asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Professor replied, clearing his throat as he nodded, still adjusting from his combat stance.

“Then explain yourself—what do you mean by saying that death is the likely outcome?”

“I am both memory and mana. If I merge with Deculein, he will gain all the memories of that day—but he will not survive the chaos,” Deculein replied, sliding the Wood Steel into place.

The swirling chaos of over a hundred years of memory and mana was something no human—Deculein included—could hope to withstand.

“Of course, he won’t die immediately. But he’ll be living on borrowed time, with death waiting at the door.”

“… And if I choose not to make that decision?” Sophien asked, her brow furrowing as she understood his meaning.

If Sophien wished to keep the present Deculein alive, all she had to do was leave the Deculein from the afterlife behind and prevent the two from ever meeting.

However, even that came with its own complications.

“What will happen to you, Professor?”

The Professor, who shared memories with Sophien, called himself a being of memory and mana, but his soul must have been much the same as the original Deculein’s.

Of course, he’ll think, feel, reason, speak… and come to the end of loving Yulie again. Damn it, Sophien thought.

“As memory, I will remain here for all eternity.”

The key difference between this Professor and the original Deculein was simple—he didn’t eat, didn’t need to relieve himself, and couldn’t die.

“… Decision, indeed,” Sophien muttered with a chuckle.

Sophien had faced dilemmas many times while ruling the Empire, but this time, there was no clear path forward. It was the first time Sophien had been forced to choose between two sides she couldn’t abandon and couldn’t allow one to be killed.

“The sun has risen and the door is now open,” the Professor said as he pushed it wide, and the narrow room’s passage connected directly to the Imperial Palace. “You may walk out.”

“… I have yet to make my decision.”

“With you, Your Majesty, every hesitation is a decision in disguise. I’ve stood by you for over a century—don’t waste time pretending otherwise.”

Sophien scratched the back of her neck awkwardly, her eyes darting to the side.

The Professor nodded, a gesture meaning he was fine with her decision.

“It is worth remaining here for eternity. Even as nothing more than a memory, there is meaning in continuing. Even trapped in the seams of a game over, there is enough to keep me going. From here, I can watch over everything.”

“… Professor,” Sophien muttered under her breath.

Bang, bang, bang, bang—!

However, the interference continued, and mana far stronger than before rumbled through the ground. This time, the enemies wouldn’t be as easy to defeat as the weaklings she had just faced.

“… It’s time for you to go. The Altar is coming,” the Professor said as he opened the door.

Sophien took a step toward the door and looked back at the Professor.

“I will hold the memories I shared with Your Majesty close to my heart.”

The Professor from Sophien’s memory appeared as composed as she remembered, speaking once more like an instructor delivering a lesson.

“Remember this, Your Majesty—you are not alone.”

“You know this as well—it is not the end, Professor. After six years and six months from now—”

“Just go already. Must you really drag this out?”

“… You little.”

The Professor gave Sophien a push, and as she stepped through the door and looked up, she found herself standing not in the old mansion, but in the Imperial Palace.

“Hmm,” Sophien murmured, scanning the surroundings before glancing back at the door, a smile tugging at her lips. “Tell me, Professor—whether inside or out, is there any difference?”

As Sophien had said, the Imperial Palace was packed with Altars, and the air was thick with murderous intent in every corner.

Really now—has the Imperial Palace been infested? When did these vermin—cockroaches and ants alike—multiply and grow so numerous? Sophien thought.

— It’s of no concern. Facing them there will prove far easier.

The Professor’s voice came through the door as if carried on a disrupted frequency.

“Facing them there will prove far easier.”

At the Professor’s words, Sophien tightened her grip on the mana sword and scanned both sides of the Imperial Palace hallway.

“How many of you are there?” Sophien inquired.

The robed Altar soldiers surrounded her, their numbers overwhelming and the odds of certain doom pressing in, but Sophien’s lips curved into a smile.

“… Do you know? There was once a plan I discussed with the Professor,” Sophien said, her voice suddenly poised with the imperial calm of an Empress. “We would pretend to wage all-out war on the Altar, then gather all your forces in the Imperial Palace and wipe them out in one clean—”

“We won’t kill you, Empress. We, too, will need you,” interrupted a senior member of the Altar, dressed like nobility and speaking in a buttery tone.

“How dare you interrupt me?” Sophien said, her expression hardening.

“My apologies, but I must ask that you come with us. Your bluff will serve you no longer.”

The Altar was well aware of the Imperial Palace’s situation. Isaac and Gawain remained locked inside the old mansion, and aside from them, the Palace’s main strength was tied up fighting at temples across the continent.

Therefore, right now, the only one left here was the Empress.

“Even as a sovereign of the Empire, you are powerless alone.”

“Hmph,” Sophien murmured, dismissing the mana blade from her hand. “How ridiculous. Do I appear to stand alone in your eyes?”

Sophien’s voice, even now, was filled with certainty, not bluff or insanity.

“Look,” Sophien continued, gesturing to either side of the corridor.

The corridor where the Altar’s soldiers stood was lined from wall to wall with statues of knights in stone.

“Do you not see how many knights stand ready?”

It should have been obvious, but the Altar soldiers didn’t get it at all as Sophien smiled, captivating as a fox, feeling the vibration building up in her inner pocket.

“Take this.”

Clink—

Then, without hesitation, Sophien pulled an object from her pocket and tossed it down the corridor—a round snowglobe.

Rattle, rattle—

It rolled to a stop at the feet of an Altar officer, and, as expected, he reacted instantly—proof enough of why he held that position.

“Retreat!” commanded a senior member of the Altar—the same man who had dared to interrupt the Empress—now shouting urgently.

At the officer’s command to retreat, the other soldiers looked around in confusion, but the guards wasted no time, sprinting down the corridor in the opposite direction.

What a cowardly little thing, Sophien thought.

“… You’ll have neither time nor space left for your retreat,” Sophien said, a cruel smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

His talent was Statue, and though merely a knight, he was a statue himself. He could breathe his consciousness and mana into the legion of statues spread across the Imperial Palace and control them as if they were his own body.

Therefore, there was only one Empress now, and while the Altar appeared to have thousands of men, the Imperial Palace was home to tens of thousands of statues.

“Do you know how many statues stand within this Imperial Palace?”

He was all of the statues, and all of the statues were him.

Therefore, this was the massacre Sophien had predicted all along.

“At last—you are here.”

Crrreeeak—!

The snow globe and shattered glass scattered across the corridor began to resonate, cracks veining their surfaces—and in the next moment, his mana exploded outward…

“You damned fool. You are far too late—but as your arrival was timely enough, I grant you forgiveness,” Sophien said, her lips curling into a smile as she sensed it all.

… Empress’s Knight, Keiron.

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